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xXWWhiteXx

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    xXWWhiteXx reacted to polarisdreamer in Grandma's Cooking   
    Another Update!










  2. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to panzagorda in Weight Gain Story Lines (TV & Movies)   
    Mexican dramatic portrayal of feederism, obviously not in a positive light LMAO (basically a PG-13 version of FEED) of  but i´m sure you perverts will enjoy it, specially because the fat actress is beautiful. 
  3. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Batman76 in Request Thread   
    nice opportunity, cool little gallery.
     
    I'll start with asking for Miranda from mass effect, with a huge butt that's just ripped her suit, please...
  4. Hot
    xXWWhiteXx got a reaction from Batman76 in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    Ok, somehow I managed to muster enough energy to sit down and finish this part. It was meant to be longer, but I saw no sense in continuing for now, and, dare I write it, the end result seems... adequate. But please write what do you think.
    Second, speaking of chapters' length, I've been meaning to ask this earlier, but forgot, should I try to post shorter chapters, but more frequently? I know there's a lot of space between lines but, still.
    Third, I did a bit of research. Did you know that all seats in Miranda's office have no armrests, and it's the case in many seats in the game? No stuckage for now, sorry. 😅
    Hope It'll amuse you, at least
     
    ***
    Chapter 24: Hello Jack
     
     
    Next “Morning”
    Normandy SR-2, Capitan’s quarters
     
     
    Tali groaned when she felt herself slipping out of food-coma. The quarian glanced down and her brow furrowed, her belly was much larger than she remembered. Sure some od this was from the food, but the rest….
    The hours since Shepard’s returns were intense, to say the least. The commander fed her, using both paste and solid foods, to the absolute limits. Then the engineer was left to sleep it off and procedure repeated.
    Of course there were breaks for sex, besides by now intimacy and eating were almost always connected. So in the end no matter how unreal it felt, Tali was starting having hard time imaging one without another and meals that didn’t left her stuffed.
    It seemed that Shepard was dead set on outdoing the former eclipse asari in fattening as soon as possible
    Despite her outward actions and reassurances to herself, the quarian was getting more and more eager about the prospect. The small part of her mind that whispered how wonderful it would be to completely under the commander control as she grow was getting almost impossible to control. How it would feel to be bigger than Zoma, immobilized by her own flam and pampered by the beautiful vommander.
    She signed and rubbed her expanded middle, knowing that it wasn’t the most affected part of her. The engineer activated her omnitool, but there was nothing that required her attention.
    Then the woman heard the doors opened and Shepard came inside. The commander was wearing a wide, satisfied, albeit normal smile. The quarian expected impromptu feeding and lovemaking session.
    This wasn’t the case.
    The spectre starred at her lover with dreamy look before starting.
    “Hmmm….as much as I hate interrupt such fruitful work I think we both should go to Mordin. He said he has some new conclusions about this asari side project of his and your friend’s medical data. Liara’s going to be there to, apparently she’s curious about it.” The human woman informed and winked.
    “But later we’ll continue”
    “You’re relentless” moaned Tali, but fought grin that was forcing itself on her face. Shepard flashed her abnormally, pearly white teeth and went to take the suit from the container.
    The engineer stood up, becoming increasingly aware of the load in her stomach and her increased weight. Absentmindedly she reached sown and reached her butt, far earlier than it had used to happened.
    The most affected by Shepard’s efforts was her lover body. The quarian’s ass reached reaching the sized of the air-inflated ball used in many human sport, a bit bigger than, overall much heavier, Miranda’s. She already felt her thighs brushing even when walking.
    Then Tali felt, five fingered hand squeeze her other butt-cheek.
    “You can be quite tease, you know” purred the commander next to the quarian’s ear. The engineer flushed, but Shepard disdn’t start anything, much to her lover disappointment.
    With her human’s help, Tali squeezed herself into the suit and both went to the elevator.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Few Minutes later
    Tech Labs
    The “conference” was about to start. Shepard was standing near Mordin with crossed arms and neutral expression. The scientist was looking through the data with usual for hum fervour and humming something. Tali was sitting quite far away from them, trying her best to hide her swollen bottom.
    To the disappointment of both ladies, Liara’s presence was limited to audio.
    Surprisingly, after greetings and summary of events, back on Illium, the quarian was the first to speak.
    “Mordin, Shepard said you got Zoma’s results, is she fine?”
    The salarian’s head snapped immediately to look at her, with a small smile on his face.
    “Yes. No imminent treat present. Fascinating really. Quarian physiology not accustomed to such strains. Yet, its adaptive abilities manages to compensate. Patient healthy, with little negative effect, save reduced mobility. Unprecedented, far exceeding documented limits of… No, no limits, applications! Need to compare to krogan healing. Possible similarities, they could allow to…”
    “Slow down Doctor” the commanded, calmly, albeit firmly, interrupted the scientist monologue.
    “Are you saying that Naenn instead of atmosphere, adapted to being fat, enough to be fine. Didn’t she nearly had a heart attack?”
    The overactive scientist nodded.
    “Quarains’ ability’s limited by time and variety. Too large amount off pathogens at once causes serve consequences. One type of strain, over slowly grooving over time allows body to adapt. In this case, patients body wasn’t ready for it yet. Also, changes allow only for survival, not proper functioning.” Mordin explained quickly.
    “If I understand you correctly doctor, quarians are able to gain large amount of weight with little adverse side effect. However, they can’t function properly in those condition. So it’s different for us” summarised the familiar voice of ex-archaeologist, albeit a little bit deeper than they remembered.
    “Yes. Quarian’s ability allow to survive and results can largely differ between individuals. In asari, large amounts of fat tissue, cause changes that are results of millennia of evolution, are near identical, analogical, that allow for grater functioning with it as well as focusing body on reproduction. Still, all organisms have limits, wouldn’t advise testing those outside laboratory. For Miss Zorah’s friend I recommend several weeks of close medical observation, if nothing changes, no reason to maintain it. She should be fine and is in good hands”
    Tali was an energetic engineer, who when pressed could operate on speeds that almost reached that od hyperactive salarian. Thanks to it she managed to understand what he had said.
    “Thanks Mordin. Could you call me if something changes?” the quarian requested politely and the professor nodded.
    “Of course, admire the quarians cooperation. Have several advices helpful for mixed special couples as well data from Miss T’Soni team. With you increasing volume I advise extra caution” added Dr Solus innocently, but the quarian felt ready to melt.
    “Professor, we appreciate your concern, but please stay on topic. You wrote that there were new discoveries based of examinations of Cerithia T'mivus. Could you share them with us?” the asari saved the engineer from the embarrassing silence. Shepard enjoyed her squirming far too much to save the quarian.
    Mordin already widely gesticulating with his hands started to move through the room.
    “Yes. Excited. Asari the longest spacefaring species, seemingly well documented biology and lifecycle. Still managed undocumented processes in them. The original theory confirmed with little modifications thanks to Miss T’Soni data. However it’s incomplete, the patient T'mivus condition provided invaluable information. Asari mongo-gendered, but live in family units almost identical to other, poly-gendered species, save for inclination to polygamy. Miss T’Soni state seems to be best suited for reproduction and taking care of new-borns. However it would leave her sustainable to predators, low chances of survival alone. Logical necessity for asari that would fill more masculine role, protecting her mate and providing her with sufficient nutrition”
    “Mordin” interrupted Shepard, it was getting hard to understand the quick stream of worlds pouring from his lips.
    “Are you saying that T'mivus basically become a male asari?”
    “No, although not wholly incorrect. It’s rare, but not unobserved for asari to assume more masculine, protective role in relationship, even after carrying an offspring. In this case patient’s illness, upon entering next biological stage, caused instincts to develop to abnormal levels. The asari was fortunate, hormone levels almost caused organ failure, will need more medical attention. Extra evidence provided by Miss T’Soni commando. Herself and her asari subordinates experienced themselves to be physically fascinated by Miss Naenn’s body” the salarian explained, surprising all of his guests.
    “So asari are naturally chubby chasers? Then why it’s such news, we should have heard about something about it” noticed Shepard.
    “Not necessary. Most asari are extremely sensible to their image, the beauty standards in our societies may cause that the concept of overweight asari is never confided in any meaningful manner. The imperative to feed partner is always ignored or wrongly interpreted, likely too week to affect behaviour outside very specific condition, asari in this position are minority. Form of matriarch maturity observed in Miss T’Soni aren’t documented for the same reason. If process is viewed as shameful, censorship may be the reason for lack of data”
    For the several seconds two women and an asari were absorbing his words.
    “Hmm… professor Solus have a point, if there is something that may discredit us or make us appear unappealing our government sweeps it under the rook faster than overly squeamish maidens” admitted Liara reluctantly.
    “Yes. Admittedly this part largely unproved, albeit fitting. Still have some data and simulations to go through, but need more data from wider pool to confirm” finished the hyperactive salarian.
    “I admit that the topic interesting to me, for obvious reasons. I may have an idea how to gather necessary information, but it’s just an concept for now. I’ll send you information if I have something concrete. Will it be all?” said the ex-archaeologist.
    “Yes, thank you for the data. Refreshing to be working on fascinating topic, without danger. Nice change. Will inform if something new comes up. Now need to return to work. have few ideas to improve shields from collector swarm” replied Mordin and returner to his console, effectively ending conversation.
    Liara offered only casual, almost cold farewell to Shepard and much more positive to Tali. They did pretend to had broken up on bad terms.
    The spectre and quarian exited lab.
    “You go up without me. I need to check something… Ssshhh”
    Elizabeth put finger on the helmet’s speaker.
    “You can’t go to the engineering, we still have much to make up for. And don’t speak when eating. It’s impolite” the pale woman instructed with the small smirk.
    It’s worth noting that Tali’s silence, after healing about Zoma, was largely caused by the nutrient paste pouring to her mouth. The large container attached to suit had been freshly refilled by the commander.
    The engineer did an annoyed pose, but did as asked(ordered). To be honest, she didn’t mind that much, being pampered by Shepard was pleasant and the smaller woman knew there would be a reward for good behaviour.
    Still, Tali decided everything had to have limits. So with firm resolution to offer more steadfast opposition if situation continues for much longer, she went to elevator. Just like many times before.
    Meanwhile, Shepard made her way to XO’s quarters. Since their return, she didn’t have the time to talk with Miranda. What’s more she had received several notification about her stomach reaching its limits. The operative was an smart woman, she could have found a way to cheat the sensors, or hopefully learned to properly deal with it by herself.
    While the commander was sceptic, she wouldn’t mind. Contrary to what Miranda may think she didn’t feed her to spite her.
    The doors were firmly locked, but Shepard came in with little problem.
    The sight in side was a surprise, a pleasant one.
    Miranda was soundly asleep on her bead only in trousers and lingerie. Around her empty wrappers after various MRE’s, with bits of them visible on the sheets. The effects of the weeks of feeding were clearly visible, every part of her could be described as bigger.
    Not unrecognizably so, but if somebody hadn’t seen the brunette in those last months, he/she would likely assume that woman before her was Miranda’s close relative. Physically similar, but with none of the operative’s trademark strife to perfection or self-control.
    After all there’s was no way, that Miranda Lawson would let herself go like that. Those meaty, wide limbs, soft, ridiculously large breasts and beginning of double chin, under the cherubic face couldn’t possibly belong to the genetically engineered woman.
    Currently,  the commander attention was focused on the brunette stomach. The formerly washboard-flat organ had fallen behind the operative’s curves in expansion,, but right now it was her most prominent feature. Gone was the flabby bag, already splitting into two folds, in its place was a large orb almost as big as a medical ball. The strained gut was covered in red marks, gurgling angrily and seemingly moving with every ominous gurgle.
    The situation was clear to Elizabeth, although she was curious how it came to be and even more the regretted not being there to witness this obvious, rampant example of gluttony.
    To watch this soft belly being stuffed and rise, becoming strained as a drum. Even now it held undeniable appeal, the spectre was curious about how it would feel under her fingers…
    Shepard squashed her rising arousal, forcing her thoughts to remain cold. Miranda was an extremely attractive woman, to the commander even more than ever, but if there was few thing the tall female would never do, adultery was one of them.
     
     
    w̢̭̪̜̻͕͛̎̓ͤ̆̽͑̂̕ę̷̥͚͓͉̝͂̊ͭ̄̒̊ͅa͇͖̖̯̘̔̊̊̓̅̾ͯ͐ͅͅk̘ͣͤ̓͛͐̄ͬ͐͠ ̴̴̧͙͍̜̥̜ͮͤ̄̍̃̍h͕͔̱̐̿͜͡u͈̩͇̭ͮ̏͂́̕m̻̥̍͛̏̾ͫ̀̚a̡̨̪̪̤̟ͯͥ͝n̝̺̜̞̝̗͈͖͐̃͠ ̺͚̤̣̻̣̰̇̆̐̔̋ͬ͌ͅn̨̝̰͖ͬ͆̃ͬ̓̑ͅő̼̤̺̤ͯͣ̃ͤ̈́ͪ̄t̵̙͎͍̖̞͗̄ͨ̍i̡͎͇̘ͦͧ̍ͨ̐͆̀͜o̖ͤ̄̋̒͌̓̓ͭ͞͡n̦̰̎ͨ̎̍̃ͦ;̤̺̖͚ͣ̅ ̬̪̥̪̦ͬ̉ͫ͟n̢̹̟ͮ̉ͯ͌̔e̷͚͎͔͎͍͇͎̾e̸̬͍̒͆ͨͦͣͦ͛̀̚͠d̴̛̘̣̥̟̙͔̱̱̘͂̓̏̈́͋̑̕ ̼̦͚̑̂̇ͯ̋̎́̚͠m̑̐̆̔͆҉̤̮õ̡͉͖̝̃̅ͨ̓̾͢r̭̠̈͗ͫ̀͞e̠̥̘͖̗͖͗͊͊̚ ̠͎̈́̆̓͝͝m̸̵̗͔̗̝͉̖̥̊̆ḁ̗̭̗̍͒́ţ͓̹̫͔͇͈̖̝̄ͭͨ̓̚ě̎͗ͥ̈ͭ̔̾҉̮̪̲̻͚̹̬̖s̞̤ͪ̔̀ͮͬͨ̀ ̴̡̨͇̩̣̺̪͕̊͊̈́̏̍ͨ̎t̸͈͙͓̠͓̲̍͛̊͐ͩ̏̀͡ôͭ̏̇ͪ͑ͨ̀͠͏̰͔̲̝̗ ̷̭̪̘̥͓̗̜̼̓͑̈́̓̓ͦ̕͟f̵̼̃͊̈́͋͐͋̿ͤ͒̀ͅã̰̗͚̜̬̺̖̋̕͢͞t̹̻̓͒̐̏ͧ̐͟͞͠ț̸̨̼̼̦̯̞̟͇͒̃ͫ̏̏͑̈̚ȅ̴̗̘͍̰̻͚̮͍ͭͬͅņ̫͔̱̗̦̮͛͒̇͊ͥ̕ ̧̠͍͉͉ͬͥ́ͯ̊̒̅̂a̵̻͓̗͉̜͖ͩ͊͂̾̔͟n̸͖̗̘̦ͤ̇̂̚͘ͅd̘̹̲̫̰͋͐̊̃ͬ̑̐͠ ̙̙̠̻͋̀ͅb̶̧̤̹͍̤͚̝ͪͫ͂͡r̶̮̐͗̿̅̌̌̈̌̑̕e̸͕̩̟̞̺̤̯̙̜͂̋ͯ͆̐͌͌ͮ̚e̡̛̜̜̒ͧ̓̋̒͑͊ͩͥ͡d̂͗͗́̆̈́͞҉̻̜̻͎̬
     
     
     
    The commander shook her head, as if she just woke up. Seeing as Miranda was deep in slumber she decided for a bit of investigation.
    It didn’t take long to find an ingesting object.
    The spectre recognized container with stimulants, some of section were far for full.
    The wide, toothy grin-like expression split the pale face in two and red hum strengthened under the skin.
    The substances missing were far from the most potent, but considering variety and amount used in those few days, Miranda was going a hard time getting full in following weeks.
    Ģ̡̫͓͉̦̳̮̩̺̻̤̎̎͒͐̈̾̌ͥ̏̋̂̑̎ͣ́̉͟ͅͅõ̵ͪ͌̐̓͂̓͂͗̓ͣ͆̂̉̄͆ͦ҉͓̪̺̠͚̳̮o̧̞̱̜̼̮̦̰̱̥̰̹̹̤̹͓̘ͤ͗ͭͣ͊͗̿͆́͌̄̒̾̎͛̒͜͡d͛ͬ̐̀̽̾͋̆ͬͧ̊̚҉͇̼̩̺͜͢͝
     
    The spectre’s teeth somehow become sharper, elongated and the parody of smile on her face even wider.
    T̶̫̝͔̯̳͈̦̺̜͔̖͖̠̰͖̪̑̉ͫ̽ͫ͒͌̎ͭ͐̈͑̒ͧ̃̌̆̓̕ͅh̡̰̱̰͍͉͈͕̟̬͖̹̳̖̯̩ͥͫ͂̋̈͑ẽͯͩͤ̉ͧ͑ͯͯ̚҉̸̷̞͚̘̗͕̤̙͉̤͚̙̜͈͓͍͜ͅy̴͌͆ͥ̌̐̆ͭ҉̸̧͎͎̩̯̠͍͎̜͓̘͖̖̤̮̺̫͠  She left the room in the same state she had found it in. The spectre decide to left that situation to develop on its own, seeing as it was going so good.
    Besides Shepard had her own girl to take care of.
     
     
    ***  
     
     
    Several hours later
     Illium, Nos Astra, Research facility oversaw by Dr. Ahum
     
     
    “A fucking porn mag?! You *chew* psychos want us to pose for *chew* a porn mag!?” shouted a fat asari, easily in over 300 pounds range.
    The conversation was held in one of the experimental apartments. Currently, it was used to gauge how long lasted effect of substances that had been used.
    A long time, at least without outside countermeasures.
    Inside were five asari. Four of them were from the original, drug-testing group, formerly associated with Heless Vate. All of them were in various states of undress and, above all obesity.
    Fat bulged in form of bellies, enlarged curves, and widened limbs. Also despite the bravado, the inhabitants barely managed to tear themselves off their main occupation: eating. And even during speaking they frequently took bites of food.
    The fifth asari was different. She was slim and wearing a full, proper business-asari dress, and her expression maintained professional neutrality.
    “A pin-up magazine, yes. Nudity isn’t required nor even planned and your identities will be hidden with some tampering by our experts. Considering your situation and a hefty sum you’ll receive extra after the contract expires, I think my employer is giving you the most gracious offer” explained the bureaucrat, forcing herself for pleasantries. That fat idiot was getting on her nerves.
    Jonuci Masus, because she had seemed to appoint herself a spokesperson for the newly assembled group, put the last piece of candy bar in her chocolate-stained mouth.
     
     
    “*munch*…You bastards drug us and make us eat like fucking bovines for slaughter. Now you want to put in some messed-up pin-up mag, Think again bitch. What stops us from smearing you on the wall? Ugggh” asked former commando and with effort, leaned out to reach another treat. Liara’s employee was quiet for a second before replying in a much less cordial tone.
    “You don’t seem to realize your position, so let me spell it out for you. You are severely overweight, with little practice. Even if you managed to hurt me, this room would be filled with gas and terminated. My employer gives you an opportunity to have provided some financial stability four yourself, instead of sitting on your fat asses. Feeding you all isn’t exactly cheap, how exactly do you intend to keep yourself afloat after we let you go? Also, keep in mind, we could persuade you to attend without any monetary bonus, whatever you want it or not” the asari explained and took a breath.
    “I don’t know what is the point of this and I don’t care. My employer gives you chance to refuse, but I am here to get results and I’m willing to…”
    “I’m in” said the third voice and bleach followed.
    Linulha Novo, the formerly mindlessly voracious asari regained her grim on her actions, although food remained her main focus. Currently, the easily over400 pounds asari was sitting in one of the couches, happily stuffing herself with dried strips of meat. She was wearing only lingerie, with her adipose-ridden body on with full display. Her most eye-catching feature, the large, round, and constantly full stomach rested between her thighs.
    “*buurrrp* it’s not like I got anything better to do and I *munch* always wanted to be a model. Besides It’s not like *much*anybody is going to actually buy it *munch*. Just add extra servings*munch* and we have a deal. Lenithnea, Josanly?”
    It’s worth mentioning that at the sides of the fattest resident were sitting Sasir twins. They were both bigger than Masus, but considerably lighter than their couch-mate. Over the last months, the identical asari and Linulha had grown…close.
    “*munch*…Sure”
    “Whatever…*munch*”
    Despite the pang of disgust, she felt from the sight of three fat, shameless asari, the bureaucrat couldn’t help the smug look appearing on her face. 
    She turned back to her conversationalist, who looked ready to grind her teeth to dust.
    “Perhaps you would like to revaluate your stance?”
     
     
    *** 
     
     
    The meeting with the hypnotized group was… peculiar. They seemed to behave normally, eerily so, but completely obvious to their obsessive gluttony and fact that their bodies had grotesquely swelled with fat.
    There were some threats, but they lacked heat, but most of the former maidens mocked the idea and showed little interest.
    Then the operative acted along with the egghead's suggestions. She slipped a few hints about the onset buffet and extra food privileges. That seemed to work like the best bait, even if her prey was unaware.
     
     
    ***  
    The other groups were similar, although a few actual volunteers had refused. IN this case, she had strict order to not press(threaten) too much.
    Still, it was a success overall. In total, the operative had several dozen asari and human females willing to pose for the magazine. Almost entirety of the selected ones. All of them ranged from slightly overweight(and growing) to ridiculously obese(at least to the recruiting asari’s eyes).
    For what reason her boss would organize something so ridiculous as pin-up magazine with fat humanoids, she had no idea.
    But there were two things she was certain of. One: questioning her boss without anything meaningful to say was idiotic. Two: T’Soni’s even most outrageous projects seemed to bring some sort of gain.
    But what could the information broker gain from this?
     
     
    ***
     
     
    A Few days later
     Normandy SR-2, XO’s office
     
     
    After the mess with project “Overlord”, the Normandy had set course to the Citadel. They had several matters to attend mostly handling their “guests” to “proper” authorizes as well as fell upgrades and repairs to the ship. Nothing drastic, not like on Illium, but they were going to be grounded for few two-three days.
    Now they were a few hours away from their destination and the crew was preparing. Emptying the necessary areas, preparing documentation, hiding AI core.
    Miranda…well…Miranda was trying to button her pants. Not exactly her pants, everything in her wardrobe was far too small for her for some time now, but the pants from the biggest set of female, Cerberus uniform she could find.
    For the last few days the operative rarely left her room, she simply had too much work to be dallying on the ship and didn’t bother with it, often even walking without trousers.
    So imagine her shock when that day Miranda, after quite a bit of effort put her pants up, only to realize the piece of cloth didn’t want to close.
    Oh…she tried, several times and with dedication worth of more noble cause, but it had become painfully apparent that it was pointless. She needed clothes for the trip to the Citadel if only to find some more fitting for herself, not to mentions her various official duties.
    That left one option. The brunette couldn’t borrow wardrobe from, Shepard, save lingerie, the commander curves were ridiculous…how this wall of muscles was so big?... so they should be wide enough, but she knew that they were far too long to look even somewhat presentable on her.
    That left the male wardrobe and only pieces of it on the larger end.
    Miranda knew that was foolish to care about it, but the fact she had to give up on female clutches due to her figure, stung.
    She would have to ask Shepard to bring it for her. The operative had to admit, non-sarcastically, that commander was helpful. The brunette wrote a quick request and glanced at her reflection.
    This time any disgust she felt was drowned under the wave of spiteful satisfaction.
    I hope you get proper reports, father. Look at the effect of the fortune spent on genetic research, look at your legacy
    Her every limb was covered in an undeniable layer of soft adipose. Unlike T’Soni’s, Miranda’s face did little to combat the onslaught of fat, her cheekbones were all, but invisible, cheeks inflated and under it was a clear beginning of second chin. Of course, the bulk of blubber concentrated in her curves. The operative never had thought she would be so happy for Shepard’s own enormous bottom and chest, tanks to it the brunette had something to borrow. The erogenous zones had, barely noticeable under inspection, signs after healed stretchmarks. 
    Her gut was in worse condition, due to the terrible abuse it had been enduring lately, it picked on more mass, but also was covered in reddish, still healing marks. Miranda usually fell into a food coma before smearing the lotion on herself and she had only her extraordinary biology to thanks for the situation not being worse.
    Speaking of her gut…
    The operative massaged the soft surface and instinctively looked down.
    She was hungry. Good
    Of course, the brunette wasn’t able to see her tum, it was obscured by her enormous, softening boobs. She could see veins pulsing under the skin, and small patches of boob-flesh overflowing the bra.
    However, her cravings quickly snapped her out of the trance. Miranda was still getting used to it. Thanks to T’Soni’s drugs, she was constantly hungry. That feeling simply ranged from an almost obsessive desire to devour everything in sight, to a slight compulsion to stuff yourself further despite being on the verge of explosion.
    Her omitool beeped, Shepard wrote that she’s going to bring clothes an hour later, she was busy sparing.
    Miranda felt herself smiling, it was enough time for a snack.
    With relief, she fell on the couch in the bedroom area. The brunette had never before thought that standing for such a short time could be tiring, but now she was learning otherwise.
    With a grunt, she picked a container and a bottle of shake from under the couch. Inside, there were enough MRE’s, to be more than a full meal volume-wise and more than several meals worth calorie-wise.
    With no remorse Miranda began systematically destroy the box’s contents, occasionally sipping on the dense liquid. And in a matter of minutes, she devoured a load of food that several weeks ago would leave her stuffed to the brim.
    Now…well, the brunette could still go for more, despite feeling a considerable load in her stomach.
    She rubbed her engorged middle and reminded herself that under her desk was another box, that one containing some sweets beside usual rations. The obese asari had pocked those as well to vary her meals. Miranda ignore those so far, but now…
    There was one problem, food and her own bulk was weighting the operative down, and during last months she experienced very little physical exercise. To put it simply, even if she would deny it, Miranda had gotten lazy and didn’t want to leave the couch.
    Then the stuffed female heard doors opening, her brow furrowed. She had ordered EDI to not let anyone, not “in-the-know”, in without asking her first. So who…
    “Where are you bitch? Don’t hide, the computer said you’re here” shouted a familiar voice.
    …well she does fit the criteria sighed the brunette mentally, she felt good and didn’t want to deal with the criminal. Then a daring idea came to her, if Jack was here she may as well be useful.
    “I’m sitting here. You would notice if you cared to look before shouting. If you want anything, please hand me the container from under the desk” informed the operative casually. Miranda was simply sitting on the couch in a location obscured by the shower.
    “I’m not your fucking maid, cheerleader!” hissed the convict and began going towards the brunette.
    “I wouldn’t think of this, but I can keep quiet about anything you ask me later the taller woman explained. What followed was series of curses and grumbling, but it would seem that the former prisoner picked up the item.
    “The fuck is…” 
    Jack arrived with the container, frown visible on her face, but the moment she saw the glutted Miranda, she exploded with laughter. 
    “…hahahaaa...so…your…a pig not…haha… a bitch…”
    The operative patiently endured the laughter and various insults.
    “Are you done? The box” interrupted annoyed Miranda.
    The snickering convict handed it to her and the brunette reached for the fattening content.
    “ppffff...you really think you need more food?” asked Jack as she watched the overweight woman bit into a nutrient bar.
    “I believe *munch* that I informed you of my reasons for *munch* my overindulgence. If *munch* you don’t want to watch turn around or * munch* get out” informed the operative between bites.
    The mocking smirk disappeared, Jack seemingly couldn’t decide on the proper expression, finally settling on the furrow.
    “Shut it bitch, I have questions”
    And surprising Miranda the tattooed woman pulled from behind a holopad that had been stepped to the harness, to one of the straps that made up her “outfit”. 
    For the next several minutes the criminal had asked questions, mentioned few things that needed to be clarified as well as other issues. Miranda kept on eating and answering, discussing.
    The entire situation genuinely surprised Miranda. Despite crude language and insults, it was clear that Jack had thoroughly read the data provided by her and T’Soni, what’s more, she sorted them and managed to correctly interpret them.
    It was a far cry from the mindless, albeit dangerous, hooligan the brunette had categorized Jack as.
    There was a brief break in the conversation when Miranda felt a donut next to her lips. Without a thought, she bit into it, although something was wrong.
    When the brunette swallowed the last bite, she realized she hadn’t been the one holding the threat.
    “Pfff…don’t try bullshitting me that it's just part of some cover piggy” said Jack with a smirk.
    Miranda felt blood rushing to her cheeks and a growing spark of fury. But she forced herself to remain calm, to think.
    The taller woman shifted to a more comfortable position, widened space between her legs for now tightly protruding gut, leaned more on the back to relieve her spine of some load. Normally she wouldn’t assume such an undignified position, even before such degenerate as Jack, but…
    “Since you’re so eager to help *munch*, please do continue” Miranda informed, swallowed the bit of MRE, and simply opened her mouth, waiting.
    Jack recoiled, smirk disappearing, turning into confusion and…something(?), but surprisingly not in the disgust. Soon a look of angry determination and bared, clenched teeth overshadowed everything.
    “You’re on, hog” replied the convict and grabbed another treat.
    The following minutes were probably the most bizarre in Miranda’s life, which was saying something.
    Accompanied by various, imaginative profanities Jack was cramming both sweets and MRE’s bars into Miranda’s mouth. It took some time before the convict adjusted pace so the brunette wouldn’t choke, but soon enough the operative was receiving food at a speed that allowed her to bite, chew and swallow. 
    Nothing else was possible. Miranda was barely able to eat and not easy, but the bald woman didn’t care. Save the nature of food it was quite similar to Shepard’s treatment with funnel.
    Not entirely though, Shepard had been indifferent and completely professional during those, while Jack was full of passion, even if fuelled by anger.
    For some reason, this made the operative feel…strange, even if not unpleasant.
    The unreal process was at its end. Miranda’s belly became taunt and round, only a small rift remaining after folds. Oh, it wasn’t her limit, with months of practice and newfound elasticity the brunette could easily pack in more, but the container was empty.
    The only thing remaining was that European(?) donut with filling in Jack’s fingers. The convict crammed it between the brunette’s lips and she dutifully bitted into it.
    However as the treat was being consumed, the chocolate filling was escaping in the opposite direction, on the tattooed fingers.
    It was unclear what was the cause, was Jack too slow or Miranda too fast and too entranced to stop, or perhaps all of this was in work.
    Sufficient to say, that the over operative didn’t stop at the last part of a cake, instantly started to lick the much thinner than her own fingers, sucking a thick layer of chocolate filling and frosting.
    The operative realized what she was doing only once the tattooed hand was all but clean. She recoiled as if the convict’s hand was made from red-hot steel and absent-mindedly swallowed the sweet mass that had been stuffing her cheeks.
    The sight before her was, once again, most surprising. Instead of disgust, typical for her wrath or even surprise, Jack’s face betrayed confusion, and… was that blush on her face?!
    The seconds of following silence seemed like an eternity to both women.
    Suddenly, like a startled animal, Jack stood up.
    “Fuck you, fuck this shit!” yelled the convict, but her voice was strangely breaking, lacking conviction.
    With that, the tattooed woman fled the room. Yes, it couldn’t be a mistake for anything else than escape.
    Miranda was left on the couch with remains of food on the fabric around her, on her face, with distended, fat gut between her legs and wide open, gaping mouth.
    She had been wrong – this was the most bizarre in her life.
     
     
    ***
    Several hours later 
    Captain’s quarters 
    Tali was contemplating her reflection in the bathroom’s big mirror. Anyone, even passingly familiar with a quarian body language would notice her distress.
    To be more exact, the engineer's attention was focused on her lower body. Her hips, bottom, and legs – the places where her new adipose was mostly focused and, noticeable, even when in the suit. While outside of the isolation it was possible to notice an increase in other areas, her lower body was as big, if not bigger, than Miranda’s. Of course, she was lighter, for now, than the operative, but her gain was more focused. And she was gaining on the brunette.
    In short, only the blind wouldn’t notice the fact that Tali was probably the most bootylicious quarian alive. And her species was more gifted in that area than humans or asari.
    Now, instead of helping to prepare for nearing arrival and repairs, the engineer was fussing about how people on the Citadel will react to her figure. Tali herself wasn’t bothered by it any longer, the crew was either accepting or smart enough not to make an issue of it.
    But they were approaching the Citadel, heart of the galactic government, full of scruffy diplomats, businessmen, and other individuals with superiority complex bigger than the station itself. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be a quarian normally, but how all those egocentrics would react? What’s worse how would react a fellow quarian, they were some on the Citadel.
    Tali had long since developed a thick skin to various profanities and accusations, she would deal with them. But it doesn’t mean she wasn’t a bit concerned, especially about the prospect of meeting a pilgrim from the Flotilla.
    “You’re overthinking” informed a voice.
    Tali pose straightened and she looked calmly at the source. Leaning on the doorframe was Elizabeth, wearing her casual outfit and with a small smile. The quarian had, somehow, gotten used to the spectre appearing out of thin air.
    “I know, I know… it’s just…I really don’t want this visit to be ruined by some comments. It's rare meet quarian as big as me” explained the engineer with embarrassment.
    Shepard approached and took her hands.
    “Yes, I have never met a quarian as beautiful as you, prettier than any woman at Citadel. That and I know that you’re smarter than to get angry because of some idiot with a quarter of your brain. You’re skilled, intelligent, if someone will insult based on how you look or your species it’s miracle they lived past infancy. Also, please remember that I’ll be there if you need me” the commander said warmly.
    Her words made Tali blush under the helmed and feel insects in her belly.
    “Worst case, you can sic the butcher of Torfan on anyone who sours your mood or blackmail them through our lovely asari archaeologist” Shepard added with a wicked grin. 
    The quarian freed one hand and playfully smacked the spectre.
    “No murder and no blackmail. You two are bad enough as it is”
    Elizabeth laughed and pulled her lover close, almost enough to bury the purple vision in her ample bosom, stopping barely an inch away from it. Not that Tali would have minded, especially as she felt the long fingers on her hips.
    “Mmmm… since we’re on topic. I cannot help but wonder how much you've grown, wouldn’t you mind checking?” purred Shepard with a sweet smile. 
    Again the quarian felt heat on her face and didn’t realize that she had never informed Elizabeth of this feature in her suit.
    “Hymp… fine, give me a moment” replied the shorter woman and with some regret wrangled herself from the human’s embrace. She started typing on her omnitool, it was a simple and quick affair but took enough time for the spectre to tightly hug her lover from behind.
    “210 pounds” Tali whispered, she knew she had put on weight, it was painfully clear, but to be aware of the exact number…
    “Hmmm… that’s a nice start.” 
    The quarian heard it spoken in a low, rumbling voice right beside her head and could feel vibrations from the large, muscular body pressing to her chubby one. She felt the heat spreading through her body, also in the lower sections, and suddenly remembered the conversation she had few hours prior.
    Thanks to Eristena, Tali had been able to converse with Zoma. While they knew each other only briefly it was still nice and further reassured Shepard’s lover of her kinsman's safety. The duo also spoke about less crucial things, the obese quarian’s perceptivity surprised the engineer. The immobilized woman managed to notice Tali’s own increased figure and interrogate her about her current relationship status. In return, she shared her own experiences and mentioned many experiences she had thanks to her blubbery body.
    Zoma was very descriptive, very graphically so. Now, scenarios she had been talking about flashed through Tali’s mind. She could help but wonder, how it would feel to be with Shepard while being as large as Zoma…
    Then, she looked up and glanced at the mirror. That turned her attention away from vivid scenarios.
    Shepard was sporting that strange, unsettling grin of hers, but the spectre’s reflection seemed blurry(?) and… was that eyes?
    “Eh… as much as I would love to stay we have job to do. But later… I know this restaurant on Citadel, nothing fancy, but I think you’ll like it” Shepard said, in a voice ridiculously unfitting the phantasm Tali had seen in the mirror and reluctantly released her girlfriend.
    “Ah…I would love to” answered the engineer when she snapped out of the daze and a warm feeling returned.
    Still, as Tali watched the tall woman leave, she couldn’t help but wonder about the terrible image in the mirror.
     
     
    ***
    Several hours later
    Citadel
    “Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?” asked the maiden pleasantly enough, but scanned a potential customer with wary eyes. Not surprisingly, she was an employee in one of the high-end stores on Citadel and Miranda had to make do with Cerberus uniform. However, the brunette had no answer for the faint blush that appeared on the asari's face.
    “I have a bit of situation. I need to replenish my wardrobe and resize a few clothes” informed the operative and gestured to a rather large container hovering next to her.
    “Of course, I’ll happily show you what we have to offer, but I’m afraid we adjust only our products and for premium members” answered the saleswoman with a beaming smile.
    Miranda felt anger and embarrassment in her chest. She was somewhat familiar with the asari, the maiden was the one usually attending to her when thebrunttewas in this store. The operative was indeed a premium member and she knew for the fact that the employee had memorized her.
    But that had been over a hundred pounds ago.
    Wordlessly, she flashed omnitool, sending data to the asari’s console. The maiden blinked in surprise and this time fully blushed.
    “M… Miss Lawson, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Is this something normal for humans? I thought that…” rambled the normally very professional asari.
    “No, as it turned out I possess a very rare genetic disorder. Now, Miss Javo, can we please return to the matter at hand?” interrupted the operative sternly.
    The asari managed to compose herself, her expression returned to the pleasant, professional one, but a faint tint of purple remained on her cheeks for some reason.
    “Of course ma’am”
    First, they had taken Miranda’s measurements. There was no trouble with that, although a human woman responsible for this raised eyebrows at them. Then came an attempt at finding new clothes.
    It was when…complications started.
    Miranda was aware of how much she gained as well as the only pieces of lingerie that fit her was Shepard’s, which had been custom made. So she started with the biggest sets available, intending to scale down accordingly.
    That didn’t work as planned.
    Most of the shop’s merchandise simply didn’t fit the brunette. Mostly she wasn’t even able to close the bras or put on panties. Even if Miranda managed this feat, it couldn’t be even called a close fit, as lingerie dug painfully in her adipose-filled flesh. Her breast overflowed bras in a truly ridiculous manner, pants gave her painful wedges, and even then were mostly covered by her meaty butt cheeks.
    Miranda’s temper was rising and the maiden attending her was getting more embarrassed and distressed by a minute.
    Finally, gritting her teeth, the brunette gave up on lingerie and skipped to clothes.
    Results were similar, or even worse, as an attempt to fit in the clothes resulted in a very graphic testament to how much the operative's figure had changed.
    Miranda was seething, furious with the situation, although there were a few contradictory feelings mixed in. The artificial-made woman was furious about the inability to restock her wardrobe, not her overweight body. At the same time, the brunette felt a vengeful satisfaction, she hoped that somebody was updating her father of her current state, she hoped he saw her fat, swollen body.
    “Miss Lawson?” asked the asari carefully.
    “Yes?”
    The maiden winced at the falsely pleasant tone of the human female but continued.
    “I’m afraid that we don’t have anything else and resizing will be finished tomorrow, not today. We…we simply don’t have enough fabric” explained the maiden, almost visibly shrinking under Miranda’s gaze.
    The operative felt herself shaking, but forced herself to close her eyes and inhale a square meter of air.
    “I see”
    “But…well, a several meters from here is another store of our brand, however, it specializes in maternal outfits…” advised the saleswoman, very quietly.
    Miranda simply stared for several seconds, before exhaling, her expression relaxed.
    “Thank you for the information, I’ll check it. My ship sets out in three days, I expect my clothes to be done by then, please send me the notification” the brunette answered and began walking out the store.
    She didn’t see that the maiden was very closely observing her wobbling butt with bitten lip and blush.
    ***
    Three hours later
    The Normandy SR-2, The third deck,
    The elevator opened, revealing an unusual image.
    The snickering Jack was leaning on equally cheerful Miranda, the convict’s nose nearly in the large cleavage. The operative wasn't faring much, better on her face was a visible smile unfitting her typical stern image and she supported herself a bit on Shepard. On the other, the blood-haired woman seemed perfectly sober only a bit annoyed, only tendency to slip into her native language being a sign of consumed alcohol. Finally, there was Kasumi, who was dangling like a sack of potatoes over, the spectre's shoulder. The thief murmured something, every then and now exploding into a fit of giggles.
    But what resulted in this?
    It’s simple, really.
    Miranda had visited the shop advertised by the asari maiden and had been returning to the ship with the supply of material, albeit high-quality and fashionable, clothes.
    Still, she was in a rather foul mood, the operative was hungry, ravenous really, her joints ached with weak, but constant dull pain caused by extra pounds. Then, she had been ambushed by Kasumi. The thief invited her for a “girl-time”. Obviously, the brunette was firmly against it, but a mix of nagging and blackmail convinced her to go if only to have the thief stop talking.
    The operative was led to the establishment of a much lower category than she would have ventured out of her own volition, but it was surprisingly tidy.
    Inside, the operative easily noticed Shepard(it was hard not to) and when she took a closer look, she noticed yeoman Chambers and unfortunately Jack.
    Obviously, the convict had started with insults and Miranda had been already in a poor mood so a scuffle almost broke out. The spectre had diffused situation with few “calming” words and stern gaze, accompanied by the fellow ginger's much more positive commentary.
    The beginning of the “party” was tense. Shepard wanted to unwind when none of her lovers was available. Jack wanted to get smashed and have some fun(of whatever variety she could find). Kasumi wanted to fish for some juicy tidbits and have some laughs. Miranda wanted to be back on the Normandy take shower and most importantly eat something, Kelly…well she wanted many things.
    However, most ladies had made a critical error. They had let Elizabeth chose liquor and set the pace. When it comes to stronger alcohols, the human spectre accepted only vodka or even stronger, homemade beverages.
    Miranda and Jack are biotics and no strangers to various alcohols, but while it’s a miraculous hangover cure, the ability didn’t prevent them from getting **.
    Kelly was surprisingly resilient for her petite frame, Kasumi a bit less so.
    Shepard…well, later when the second, 2-liter bottle of vodka had shown bottom, the tall woman was still infuriatingly sober and had tenderly reminiscence her family moonshine recipe.
    Meanwhile, the thief had been fighting bravely but seemed to be loseing connection with reality momentarily. Surprisingly, both Jack and Miranda had been happy drunks. Still, mostly coherent, but their insults turned playful, joking, even if normally they would be at each other’s throats at this point. Kelly had sneaked out with some female turian, a bottle earlier.
    With resignation, Shepard had stood up and a minute later returned with two bottles and normal glass. One had been identical to previous ones, second was smaller and had ryncol inside. The commander wasn’t a fan of this drink, it had disgusting texture and taste, but had been determined to get at least tipsy.
    She poured vodka into her companions’ shot glasses and mix of it and ryncol to hers.
    When both bottles were empty, Shepard had been experiencing a faint hum that soothed the pain of lonesome existence and decided that it had been a job well done.
    At the same time, the convict and operative had been engaged in a game of ”who-had-shittier-childhood” and some weird, passive-aggressive flirting. Kasumi was lying on the table, ready to transcendent to another state of enlightenment.
    Of course, they had to make their way back to the ship, which culminated in the elevator scene. The good( debatable in the spectre case) thing was that the walk allowed them to sober up a bit, save Kasumi.
    “I’m going to put our master thief in her bed. You two, wait or can you make it on your own?” Elizabeth asked the duo.
    “I’m… perfectly capable…”
    “We ain’t some like-weights like the hoody…*hic*”
    “…yes”
    The spectre nodded and made her way to the thief’s abode. The bizarre pair started to carefully stumble to Miranda’s office. Once inside they both fell on the bed with relief and a giggle that was very contradictory to their normal personas.
    It was that moment, that hunger pierced through to Miranda’s alcohol-clouded mind, snacks back at the bar had been a drop in the bucked of what her stomach needed.
    Then she realized that somebody grabbed her butt cheeks.
    “Fuck, you got one fat ass” murmured Jack and squeezed. The operative responded with neither moan nor giggle.
    “Mmm… better than yours. If you’re bored grab me something to eat, first” said the brunette and lazily gestured to the container with the afternoon meal.
    The tattooed woman grimace, but swaying she brought food. Meanwhile, with effort Miranda managed to, roll over on her back.
    “Shiiitt, you’re sure you aren’t a cow, those tits look ready to be milked”
    The operative snapped the tattooed hand that reached for her boob, which almost resulted in Jack falling on her.
    “Food, now. Cultivating a perfect body requires a proper nu...nut...nutr… food. And do this properly this time” informed Miranda.
    “Pft, like you need more lard” snorted the convict and loudly clapped the brunette’s fat gut.
    The operative merely opened her mouth, she was hungry.
    It was a repeat of the situation from the days ago, only with more drunken clumsiness and cheer.
    Much more cheer.
    For some reason botch females were getting hotter and it wasn’t just alcohol at work.
    “Fuck, you’re getting off of this” Jack vocalized her observation, when Miranda had let out less than… appropriate sound after eating a pastry.
    It was a good thing she had already swallowed.
    “Wh…What? Have you finally lost your mind?!” sputtered the operative and tried to get up, but a donut, forcefully shoved between her lips, brought her down.
    “You hate daddy so much? Or do you just like being fattened like a pig, cheerleader? Who’s degenerate now, bitch?” sneered the criminal with glee.
    The brunette managed to chow down the treat in record time, anger piercing through the alcohol-fuelled cheer.
    “It takes one to know another or you groping and ogling my tits is just an accident?” hissed Miranda in low voice and looked into Jack’s face.
    The tattooed woman’s expression went through several different emotions in the spawn of few seconds, finally second on determination, accompanied by a smirk.
    “You know what cheerleader? Fuck this”
    Two things happened almost at once, another treat was forced into the brunette’s mouth. Meanwhile, Jack’s hand moved from the lower portion of Miranda’s upper thigh, place it had been happily occupying for several last minutes, to under the brunette’s trouser and between two enlarged legs.
    “MMMmmmm!” moaned Miranda through a stuffed mouth.
    “You like that, don’t you?! You like being fed and fucked like a pig! Why don’t you squeal for…!”
    The grinning woman’s rant was interrupted when the brunette pulled on one of the straps that make up the convict's outfit. Two women were facing each other.
    The operative, swallowed food, nearly ** in the process.
    “You can either shut the fuck up and get going for real or get out of my room” gaped Miranda breathlessly
    Jack grinned again, one hand was reaching for another dounut, the second was clumsily ripping the newly bought clutches.
    It was going to be a fun night.
     
     
     ***
    Around the same time
    Hagalaz’s atmosphere, The Shadow Broker’s ship
    Liara with tired satisfaction sat on her bed. The work as the Shadow Broker and preparing for Reapers was mentally demanding as well as draining. But the effects, even if some were appearing minuscule, were reassuring. The obese asari was pleased about it.
    “Will that be all, Miss T’Soni?” politely asked an artificially generated voice.
    It was yet another success in the doctor’s book. After months of painstaking, careful reprogramming she had managed to turn the previous Broker’s obnoxious VI into something truly great, she was sure even Tali would be impressed. The broker had given it designation: Glymph.
    “Yes, please have the package from Illium brought her I want to test it” replied asari.
    “Of course. Ma’am” and with that blue sphere flew off.
    Liara smiled, it was good to have a…
    *GGGGGRRRRROOOOOWWWWWLLLLL*
    A deep, guttural growl rippled through the air like the hungry roar of an ancient beast.
    Well, it wasn’t exactly incorrect, save for the “ancient” part.
    The doctor with a blush on her face rubbed her gargantuan gut, normally she would have bent to its every demand, but the asari wanted to try something. It was hard to hold herself down, Liara was a growing matron after all.
    Indeed, the information broker was happily gorging herself and growing, every part of her body swelling like dough. Her belly kept widening, creeping on her knees, every day farther. And the gluttonous sphere was hardly an exception, by the void even the asari’s blue toes were bigger.
    A few days ago, the doctor realized with arousal, just in how different directions her arms had been pointing when she had pressed them to her meaty body. That wasn’t the only sign of her gluttony, Liara could still put on the shoes, but the task was so troublesome, that she left completely to one of many bots, the ex-archaeologist was using. Same with the rest of the clothes and certain, manual activities. Although all things considered, the automated assistance had been, so far, caused by laziness and convenience, but it appeared that in not so distant future they would be necessary as the asari grew.
    It’s quite astounding what a few pounds on an already large body can body noted Liara, surprisingly ignorant of the truth. 
    Surprising, even for herself, was how at peace with her slowly decreasing mobility, or perhaps the doctor was too pleased with her adipose-filed body to truly care.
    With some effort, she managed to snuggle down in the middle of the bed, where the asari had prepared herself a spot with many pillows that nicely compensated her changing proportions. Then, the young matron grabbed a nearly holopad and began reviewing less crucial projects.
    Mmm… Dr. Ahum and his team are doing a good job. Also, they have everything prepared and are going to start shooting soon. There’s no telling about the results, but that’s barely a drop in the budget, and if our observations are any indication… mused Liara.
    “Ma’am” a synthetic voice interrupted her line of thoughts. Glymph returned and controlled by him robot brought in the package from Illium.
    The item was a slightly modified machine that had been used to “help” patients bulk up mass, in Dr. Ahum’s facility. Most recently it had been used on Elona Loni and Heless Vate.
    Why Liara would want such a device delivered? Simple, beyond purely physical, and increasingly demanding(the routine itself remained the same), exercises to avoid muscle entropy, Liara was taking up more biotic training. Most of this would be too hard for asari of her age, but the young matron had supplies of eezo and fuel far surpassing any other member of her age group and most matriarchs.
    At the same time, even if the information broker’s species was the most “energy-efficient” when it came to biotics, it didn’t change the fact that new activity burned through many calories.
    Keeping that in mind as well as her goal of gaining 50 pounds, Liara had ordered the machine. It was all purely for practical reasons and she didn’t intend to use it often if at all. It wasn’t as if the doctor was curious, not at all.
    Soon, the robot set everything up.
    “Thank you, Glymph. Please leave the remote near me, just in case. That will be all for today, you can return to your duties after finishing” informed Liara.
    “Of course, Miss T’Soni”
    The mech, thankfully it was a delicate, medical model, began inserting a funnel into Liara’s throat. The experience was a bit unpleasant, but not terribly so.
    Almost immediately, the cream began flowing, the VI flew off and the doctor returned to the lecture.
    While this mode of consumption was without the typical pleasure, a taste of food and physical act, however, the young matron knew that the paste, while more calorie-rich than any edible substance, had a taste that left much to be desired.
    Minutes passed. At first, nothing happened, the substance was flowing calmly and the ex-researcher’s stomach needed quite a lot to even feel sated.
    Of course, a considerable time later, this moment arrived, but the machine didn’t stop there. The paste kept being forced down Liara’s throat and her stomach grew.
    The heavy asari ceased reading and focused on expanding mass, she tenderly rubbed its tender, pulsating with heat surface. Before this “meal”, she had consumed a lot of strong digestives, stretchers, and special, local anesthetic, so the doctor could pack away even more food.
    Her spherical gut stretched, but the layer of blubber was too thick so it remained soft. Two chubby hands were rubbing the distending belly, the fullness inside growing to the aching, almost painful levels.
    But Liara didn’t mind, instead, her soft face began getting purple with blush.
    By the Goddess, she couldn’t help but imagine Elizabeth being there with her, Tali too would be welcome. To have them witness the testament to her gluttony, her dedication, and her fertile body. To have them plant a litter of beautiful daughters into her bountiful, fat flesh as they worshipped it.
    The ex-archaeologist had heard tales of her species's lust, but she had chalked them up as rumors, caused by incomplete information.
    But now? The doctor wasn’t so sure.
    Now, with her lard-laden belly ridiculously swollen and painful, one hand remained on it while the second went to her equally enormous breast and nipple. Liara didn’t even try to reach between her tree-trunk-like legs, besides the sensitivity of that area for asari was minuscule compared to other species.
    The pain grew and so the obese matron’s arousal, her imagination was running wild. She founded the monstrous, agony-filled, mass that pined her to the cracking bed and her chest. Liara’s heart was pounding furiously, managing to easily supply an enormous body only thanks to eons of evolution. The furious moans were barely muffed by the hose in the mouth and any movement was prevented by the very flesh that put in her state, but that only added to the doctor's excitement.
    Ultimately, when her throbbing, beaded with sweat stomach felt ready to crack, when wrangling in ecstasy the young asari managed to make her obese body sway by millimeters… Liara reached her end.
    SSSSsssssheeeparrrd!!!!.....
    The mountain of asari went limp, her hands falling to the sides and eyes rolling back. The ex-archaeologist almost immediately drifted asleep, tired by the day’s events, and only her soft, distended middle was facing highly upwards in the mockery of common sense.
    Soon, soundless the medbot arrived and gently removed the funnel from Liara’s lips.
    Then, it left the counted asari alone to digest and grow…GROW.
     
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    xXWWhiteXx reacted to thadrou90 in Tess Holliday (Tess Munster)   
    Some more of the same


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    xXWWhiteXx got a reaction from xandercroft in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    Ok, somehow I managed to muster enough energy to sit down and finish this part. It was meant to be longer, but I saw no sense in continuing for now, and, dare I write it, the end result seems... adequate. But please write what do you think.
    Second, speaking of chapters' length, I've been meaning to ask this earlier, but forgot, should I try to post shorter chapters, but more frequently? I know there's a lot of space between lines but, still.
    Third, I did a bit of research. Did you know that all seats in Miranda's office have no armrests, and it's the case in many seats in the game? No stuckage for now, sorry. 😅
    Hope It'll amuse you, at least
     
    ***
    Chapter 24: Hello Jack
     
     
    Next “Morning”
    Normandy SR-2, Capitan’s quarters
     
     
    Tali groaned when she felt herself slipping out of food-coma. The quarian glanced down and her brow furrowed, her belly was much larger than she remembered. Sure some od this was from the food, but the rest….
    The hours since Shepard’s returns were intense, to say the least. The commander fed her, using both paste and solid foods, to the absolute limits. Then the engineer was left to sleep it off and procedure repeated.
    Of course there were breaks for sex, besides by now intimacy and eating were almost always connected. So in the end no matter how unreal it felt, Tali was starting having hard time imaging one without another and meals that didn’t left her stuffed.
    It seemed that Shepard was dead set on outdoing the former eclipse asari in fattening as soon as possible
    Despite her outward actions and reassurances to herself, the quarian was getting more and more eager about the prospect. The small part of her mind that whispered how wonderful it would be to completely under the commander control as she grow was getting almost impossible to control. How it would feel to be bigger than Zoma, immobilized by her own flam and pampered by the beautiful vommander.
    She signed and rubbed her expanded middle, knowing that it wasn’t the most affected part of her. The engineer activated her omnitool, but there was nothing that required her attention.
    Then the woman heard the doors opened and Shepard came inside. The commander was wearing a wide, satisfied, albeit normal smile. The quarian expected impromptu feeding and lovemaking session.
    This wasn’t the case.
    The spectre starred at her lover with dreamy look before starting.
    “Hmmm….as much as I hate interrupt such fruitful work I think we both should go to Mordin. He said he has some new conclusions about this asari side project of his and your friend’s medical data. Liara’s going to be there to, apparently she’s curious about it.” The human woman informed and winked.
    “But later we’ll continue”
    “You’re relentless” moaned Tali, but fought grin that was forcing itself on her face. Shepard flashed her abnormally, pearly white teeth and went to take the suit from the container.
    The engineer stood up, becoming increasingly aware of the load in her stomach and her increased weight. Absentmindedly she reached sown and reached her butt, far earlier than it had used to happened.
    The most affected by Shepard’s efforts was her lover body. The quarian’s ass reached reaching the sized of the air-inflated ball used in many human sport, a bit bigger than, overall much heavier, Miranda’s. She already felt her thighs brushing even when walking.
    Then Tali felt, five fingered hand squeeze her other butt-cheek.
    “You can be quite tease, you know” purred the commander next to the quarian’s ear. The engineer flushed, but Shepard disdn’t start anything, much to her lover disappointment.
    With her human’s help, Tali squeezed herself into the suit and both went to the elevator.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Few Minutes later
    Tech Labs
    The “conference” was about to start. Shepard was standing near Mordin with crossed arms and neutral expression. The scientist was looking through the data with usual for hum fervour and humming something. Tali was sitting quite far away from them, trying her best to hide her swollen bottom.
    To the disappointment of both ladies, Liara’s presence was limited to audio.
    Surprisingly, after greetings and summary of events, back on Illium, the quarian was the first to speak.
    “Mordin, Shepard said you got Zoma’s results, is she fine?”
    The salarian’s head snapped immediately to look at her, with a small smile on his face.
    “Yes. No imminent treat present. Fascinating really. Quarian physiology not accustomed to such strains. Yet, its adaptive abilities manages to compensate. Patient healthy, with little negative effect, save reduced mobility. Unprecedented, far exceeding documented limits of… No, no limits, applications! Need to compare to krogan healing. Possible similarities, they could allow to…”
    “Slow down Doctor” the commanded, calmly, albeit firmly, interrupted the scientist monologue.
    “Are you saying that Naenn instead of atmosphere, adapted to being fat, enough to be fine. Didn’t she nearly had a heart attack?”
    The overactive scientist nodded.
    “Quarains’ ability’s limited by time and variety. Too large amount off pathogens at once causes serve consequences. One type of strain, over slowly grooving over time allows body to adapt. In this case, patients body wasn’t ready for it yet. Also, changes allow only for survival, not proper functioning.” Mordin explained quickly.
    “If I understand you correctly doctor, quarians are able to gain large amount of weight with little adverse side effect. However, they can’t function properly in those condition. So it’s different for us” summarised the familiar voice of ex-archaeologist, albeit a little bit deeper than they remembered.
    “Yes. Quarian’s ability allow to survive and results can largely differ between individuals. In asari, large amounts of fat tissue, cause changes that are results of millennia of evolution, are near identical, analogical, that allow for grater functioning with it as well as focusing body on reproduction. Still, all organisms have limits, wouldn’t advise testing those outside laboratory. For Miss Zorah’s friend I recommend several weeks of close medical observation, if nothing changes, no reason to maintain it. She should be fine and is in good hands”
    Tali was an energetic engineer, who when pressed could operate on speeds that almost reached that od hyperactive salarian. Thanks to it she managed to understand what he had said.
    “Thanks Mordin. Could you call me if something changes?” the quarian requested politely and the professor nodded.
    “Of course, admire the quarians cooperation. Have several advices helpful for mixed special couples as well data from Miss T’Soni team. With you increasing volume I advise extra caution” added Dr Solus innocently, but the quarian felt ready to melt.
    “Professor, we appreciate your concern, but please stay on topic. You wrote that there were new discoveries based of examinations of Cerithia T'mivus. Could you share them with us?” the asari saved the engineer from the embarrassing silence. Shepard enjoyed her squirming far too much to save the quarian.
    Mordin already widely gesticulating with his hands started to move through the room.
    “Yes. Excited. Asari the longest spacefaring species, seemingly well documented biology and lifecycle. Still managed undocumented processes in them. The original theory confirmed with little modifications thanks to Miss T’Soni data. However it’s incomplete, the patient T'mivus condition provided invaluable information. Asari mongo-gendered, but live in family units almost identical to other, poly-gendered species, save for inclination to polygamy. Miss T’Soni state seems to be best suited for reproduction and taking care of new-borns. However it would leave her sustainable to predators, low chances of survival alone. Logical necessity for asari that would fill more masculine role, protecting her mate and providing her with sufficient nutrition”
    “Mordin” interrupted Shepard, it was getting hard to understand the quick stream of worlds pouring from his lips.
    “Are you saying that T'mivus basically become a male asari?”
    “No, although not wholly incorrect. It’s rare, but not unobserved for asari to assume more masculine, protective role in relationship, even after carrying an offspring. In this case patient’s illness, upon entering next biological stage, caused instincts to develop to abnormal levels. The asari was fortunate, hormone levels almost caused organ failure, will need more medical attention. Extra evidence provided by Miss T’Soni commando. Herself and her asari subordinates experienced themselves to be physically fascinated by Miss Naenn’s body” the salarian explained, surprising all of his guests.
    “So asari are naturally chubby chasers? Then why it’s such news, we should have heard about something about it” noticed Shepard.
    “Not necessary. Most asari are extremely sensible to their image, the beauty standards in our societies may cause that the concept of overweight asari is never confided in any meaningful manner. The imperative to feed partner is always ignored or wrongly interpreted, likely too week to affect behaviour outside very specific condition, asari in this position are minority. Form of matriarch maturity observed in Miss T’Soni aren’t documented for the same reason. If process is viewed as shameful, censorship may be the reason for lack of data”
    For the several seconds two women and an asari were absorbing his words.
    “Hmm… professor Solus have a point, if there is something that may discredit us or make us appear unappealing our government sweeps it under the rook faster than overly squeamish maidens” admitted Liara reluctantly.
    “Yes. Admittedly this part largely unproved, albeit fitting. Still have some data and simulations to go through, but need more data from wider pool to confirm” finished the hyperactive salarian.
    “I admit that the topic interesting to me, for obvious reasons. I may have an idea how to gather necessary information, but it’s just an concept for now. I’ll send you information if I have something concrete. Will it be all?” said the ex-archaeologist.
    “Yes, thank you for the data. Refreshing to be working on fascinating topic, without danger. Nice change. Will inform if something new comes up. Now need to return to work. have few ideas to improve shields from collector swarm” replied Mordin and returner to his console, effectively ending conversation.
    Liara offered only casual, almost cold farewell to Shepard and much more positive to Tali. They did pretend to had broken up on bad terms.
    The spectre and quarian exited lab.
    “You go up without me. I need to check something… Ssshhh”
    Elizabeth put finger on the helmet’s speaker.
    “You can’t go to the engineering, we still have much to make up for. And don’t speak when eating. It’s impolite” the pale woman instructed with the small smirk.
    It’s worth noting that Tali’s silence, after healing about Zoma, was largely caused by the nutrient paste pouring to her mouth. The large container attached to suit had been freshly refilled by the commander.
    The engineer did an annoyed pose, but did as asked(ordered). To be honest, she didn’t mind that much, being pampered by Shepard was pleasant and the smaller woman knew there would be a reward for good behaviour.
    Still, Tali decided everything had to have limits. So with firm resolution to offer more steadfast opposition if situation continues for much longer, she went to elevator. Just like many times before.
    Meanwhile, Shepard made her way to XO’s quarters. Since their return, she didn’t have the time to talk with Miranda. What’s more she had received several notification about her stomach reaching its limits. The operative was an smart woman, she could have found a way to cheat the sensors, or hopefully learned to properly deal with it by herself.
    While the commander was sceptic, she wouldn’t mind. Contrary to what Miranda may think she didn’t feed her to spite her.
    The doors were firmly locked, but Shepard came in with little problem.
    The sight in side was a surprise, a pleasant one.
    Miranda was soundly asleep on her bead only in trousers and lingerie. Around her empty wrappers after various MRE’s, with bits of them visible on the sheets. The effects of the weeks of feeding were clearly visible, every part of her could be described as bigger.
    Not unrecognizably so, but if somebody hadn’t seen the brunette in those last months, he/she would likely assume that woman before her was Miranda’s close relative. Physically similar, but with none of the operative’s trademark strife to perfection or self-control.
    After all there’s was no way, that Miranda Lawson would let herself go like that. Those meaty, wide limbs, soft, ridiculously large breasts and beginning of double chin, under the cherubic face couldn’t possibly belong to the genetically engineered woman.
    Currently,  the commander attention was focused on the brunette stomach. The formerly washboard-flat organ had fallen behind the operative’s curves in expansion,, but right now it was her most prominent feature. Gone was the flabby bag, already splitting into two folds, in its place was a large orb almost as big as a medical ball. The strained gut was covered in red marks, gurgling angrily and seemingly moving with every ominous gurgle.
    The situation was clear to Elizabeth, although she was curious how it came to be and even more the regretted not being there to witness this obvious, rampant example of gluttony.
    To watch this soft belly being stuffed and rise, becoming strained as a drum. Even now it held undeniable appeal, the spectre was curious about how it would feel under her fingers…
    Shepard squashed her rising arousal, forcing her thoughts to remain cold. Miranda was an extremely attractive woman, to the commander even more than ever, but if there was few thing the tall female would never do, adultery was one of them.
     
     
    w̢̭̪̜̻͕͛̎̓ͤ̆̽͑̂̕ę̷̥͚͓͉̝͂̊ͭ̄̒̊ͅa͇͖̖̯̘̔̊̊̓̅̾ͯ͐ͅͅk̘ͣͤ̓͛͐̄ͬ͐͠ ̴̴̧͙͍̜̥̜ͮͤ̄̍̃̍h͕͔̱̐̿͜͡u͈̩͇̭ͮ̏͂́̕m̻̥̍͛̏̾ͫ̀̚a̡̨̪̪̤̟ͯͥ͝n̝̺̜̞̝̗͈͖͐̃͠ ̺͚̤̣̻̣̰̇̆̐̔̋ͬ͌ͅn̨̝̰͖ͬ͆̃ͬ̓̑ͅő̼̤̺̤ͯͣ̃ͤ̈́ͪ̄t̵̙͎͍̖̞͗̄ͨ̍i̡͎͇̘ͦͧ̍ͨ̐͆̀͜o̖ͤ̄̋̒͌̓̓ͭ͞͡n̦̰̎ͨ̎̍̃ͦ;̤̺̖͚ͣ̅ ̬̪̥̪̦ͬ̉ͫ͟n̢̹̟ͮ̉ͯ͌̔e̷͚͎͔͎͍͇͎̾e̸̬͍̒͆ͨͦͣͦ͛̀̚͠d̴̛̘̣̥̟̙͔̱̱̘͂̓̏̈́͋̑̕ ̼̦͚̑̂̇ͯ̋̎́̚͠m̑̐̆̔͆҉̤̮õ̡͉͖̝̃̅ͨ̓̾͢r̭̠̈͗ͫ̀͞e̠̥̘͖̗͖͗͊͊̚ ̠͎̈́̆̓͝͝m̸̵̗͔̗̝͉̖̥̊̆ḁ̗̭̗̍͒́ţ͓̹̫͔͇͈̖̝̄ͭͨ̓̚ě̎͗ͥ̈ͭ̔̾҉̮̪̲̻͚̹̬̖s̞̤ͪ̔̀ͮͬͨ̀ ̴̡̨͇̩̣̺̪͕̊͊̈́̏̍ͨ̎t̸͈͙͓̠͓̲̍͛̊͐ͩ̏̀͡ôͭ̏̇ͪ͑ͨ̀͠͏̰͔̲̝̗ ̷̭̪̘̥͓̗̜̼̓͑̈́̓̓ͦ̕͟f̵̼̃͊̈́͋͐͋̿ͤ͒̀ͅã̰̗͚̜̬̺̖̋̕͢͞t̹̻̓͒̐̏ͧ̐͟͞͠ț̸̨̼̼̦̯̞̟͇͒̃ͫ̏̏͑̈̚ȅ̴̗̘͍̰̻͚̮͍ͭͬͅņ̫͔̱̗̦̮͛͒̇͊ͥ̕ ̧̠͍͉͉ͬͥ́ͯ̊̒̅̂a̵̻͓̗͉̜͖ͩ͊͂̾̔͟n̸͖̗̘̦ͤ̇̂̚͘ͅd̘̹̲̫̰͋͐̊̃ͬ̑̐͠ ̙̙̠̻͋̀ͅb̶̧̤̹͍̤͚̝ͪͫ͂͡r̶̮̐͗̿̅̌̌̈̌̑̕e̸͕̩̟̞̺̤̯̙̜͂̋ͯ͆̐͌͌ͮ̚e̡̛̜̜̒ͧ̓̋̒͑͊ͩͥ͡d̂͗͗́̆̈́͞҉̻̜̻͎̬
     
     
     
    The commander shook her head, as if she just woke up. Seeing as Miranda was deep in slumber she decided for a bit of investigation.
    It didn’t take long to find an ingesting object.
    The spectre recognized container with stimulants, some of section were far for full.
    The wide, toothy grin-like expression split the pale face in two and red hum strengthened under the skin.
    The substances missing were far from the most potent, but considering variety and amount used in those few days, Miranda was going a hard time getting full in following weeks.
    Ģ̡̫͓͉̦̳̮̩̺̻̤̎̎͒͐̈̾̌ͥ̏̋̂̑̎ͣ́̉͟ͅͅõ̵ͪ͌̐̓͂̓͂͗̓ͣ͆̂̉̄͆ͦ҉͓̪̺̠͚̳̮o̧̞̱̜̼̮̦̰̱̥̰̹̹̤̹͓̘ͤ͗ͭͣ͊͗̿͆́͌̄̒̾̎͛̒͜͡d͛ͬ̐̀̽̾͋̆ͬͧ̊̚҉͇̼̩̺͜͢͝
     
    The spectre’s teeth somehow become sharper, elongated and the parody of smile on her face even wider.
    T̶̫̝͔̯̳͈̦̺̜͔̖͖̠̰͖̪̑̉ͫ̽ͫ͒͌̎ͭ͐̈͑̒ͧ̃̌̆̓̕ͅh̡̰̱̰͍͉͈͕̟̬͖̹̳̖̯̩ͥͫ͂̋̈͑ẽͯͩͤ̉ͧ͑ͯͯ̚҉̸̷̞͚̘̗͕̤̙͉̤͚̙̜͈͓͍͜ͅy̴͌͆ͥ̌̐̆ͭ҉̸̧͎͎̩̯̠͍͎̜͓̘͖̖̤̮̺̫͠  She left the room in the same state she had found it in. The spectre decide to left that situation to develop on its own, seeing as it was going so good.
    Besides Shepard had her own girl to take care of.
     
     
    ***  
     
     
    Several hours later
     Illium, Nos Astra, Research facility oversaw by Dr. Ahum
     
     
    “A fucking porn mag?! You *chew* psychos want us to pose for *chew* a porn mag!?” shouted a fat asari, easily in over 300 pounds range.
    The conversation was held in one of the experimental apartments. Currently, it was used to gauge how long lasted effect of substances that had been used.
    A long time, at least without outside countermeasures.
    Inside were five asari. Four of them were from the original, drug-testing group, formerly associated with Heless Vate. All of them were in various states of undress and, above all obesity.
    Fat bulged in form of bellies, enlarged curves, and widened limbs. Also despite the bravado, the inhabitants barely managed to tear themselves off their main occupation: eating. And even during speaking they frequently took bites of food.
    The fifth asari was different. She was slim and wearing a full, proper business-asari dress, and her expression maintained professional neutrality.
    “A pin-up magazine, yes. Nudity isn’t required nor even planned and your identities will be hidden with some tampering by our experts. Considering your situation and a hefty sum you’ll receive extra after the contract expires, I think my employer is giving you the most gracious offer” explained the bureaucrat, forcing herself for pleasantries. That fat idiot was getting on her nerves.
    Jonuci Masus, because she had seemed to appoint herself a spokesperson for the newly assembled group, put the last piece of candy bar in her chocolate-stained mouth.
     
     
    “*munch*…You bastards drug us and make us eat like fucking bovines for slaughter. Now you want to put in some messed-up pin-up mag, Think again bitch. What stops us from smearing you on the wall? Ugggh” asked former commando and with effort, leaned out to reach another treat. Liara’s employee was quiet for a second before replying in a much less cordial tone.
    “You don’t seem to realize your position, so let me spell it out for you. You are severely overweight, with little practice. Even if you managed to hurt me, this room would be filled with gas and terminated. My employer gives you an opportunity to have provided some financial stability four yourself, instead of sitting on your fat asses. Feeding you all isn’t exactly cheap, how exactly do you intend to keep yourself afloat after we let you go? Also, keep in mind, we could persuade you to attend without any monetary bonus, whatever you want it or not” the asari explained and took a breath.
    “I don’t know what is the point of this and I don’t care. My employer gives you chance to refuse, but I am here to get results and I’m willing to…”
    “I’m in” said the third voice and bleach followed.
    Linulha Novo, the formerly mindlessly voracious asari regained her grim on her actions, although food remained her main focus. Currently, the easily over400 pounds asari was sitting in one of the couches, happily stuffing herself with dried strips of meat. She was wearing only lingerie, with her adipose-ridden body on with full display. Her most eye-catching feature, the large, round, and constantly full stomach rested between her thighs.
    “*buurrrp* it’s not like I got anything better to do and I *munch* always wanted to be a model. Besides It’s not like *much*anybody is going to actually buy it *munch*. Just add extra servings*munch* and we have a deal. Lenithnea, Josanly?”
    It’s worth mentioning that at the sides of the fattest resident were sitting Sasir twins. They were both bigger than Masus, but considerably lighter than their couch-mate. Over the last months, the identical asari and Linulha had grown…close.
    “*munch*…Sure”
    “Whatever…*munch*”
    Despite the pang of disgust, she felt from the sight of three fat, shameless asari, the bureaucrat couldn’t help the smug look appearing on her face. 
    She turned back to her conversationalist, who looked ready to grind her teeth to dust.
    “Perhaps you would like to revaluate your stance?”
     
     
    *** 
     
     
    The meeting with the hypnotized group was… peculiar. They seemed to behave normally, eerily so, but completely obvious to their obsessive gluttony and fact that their bodies had grotesquely swelled with fat.
    There were some threats, but they lacked heat, but most of the former maidens mocked the idea and showed little interest.
    Then the operative acted along with the egghead's suggestions. She slipped a few hints about the onset buffet and extra food privileges. That seemed to work like the best bait, even if her prey was unaware.
     
     
    ***  
    The other groups were similar, although a few actual volunteers had refused. IN this case, she had strict order to not press(threaten) too much.
    Still, it was a success overall. In total, the operative had several dozen asari and human females willing to pose for the magazine. Almost entirety of the selected ones. All of them ranged from slightly overweight(and growing) to ridiculously obese(at least to the recruiting asari’s eyes).
    For what reason her boss would organize something so ridiculous as pin-up magazine with fat humanoids, she had no idea.
    But there were two things she was certain of. One: questioning her boss without anything meaningful to say was idiotic. Two: T’Soni’s even most outrageous projects seemed to bring some sort of gain.
    But what could the information broker gain from this?
     
     
    ***
     
     
    A Few days later
     Normandy SR-2, XO’s office
     
     
    After the mess with project “Overlord”, the Normandy had set course to the Citadel. They had several matters to attend mostly handling their “guests” to “proper” authorizes as well as fell upgrades and repairs to the ship. Nothing drastic, not like on Illium, but they were going to be grounded for few two-three days.
    Now they were a few hours away from their destination and the crew was preparing. Emptying the necessary areas, preparing documentation, hiding AI core.
    Miranda…well…Miranda was trying to button her pants. Not exactly her pants, everything in her wardrobe was far too small for her for some time now, but the pants from the biggest set of female, Cerberus uniform she could find.
    For the last few days the operative rarely left her room, she simply had too much work to be dallying on the ship and didn’t bother with it, often even walking without trousers.
    So imagine her shock when that day Miranda, after quite a bit of effort put her pants up, only to realize the piece of cloth didn’t want to close.
    Oh…she tried, several times and with dedication worth of more noble cause, but it had become painfully apparent that it was pointless. She needed clothes for the trip to the Citadel if only to find some more fitting for herself, not to mentions her various official duties.
    That left one option. The brunette couldn’t borrow wardrobe from, Shepard, save lingerie, the commander curves were ridiculous…how this wall of muscles was so big?... so they should be wide enough, but she knew that they were far too long to look even somewhat presentable on her.
    That left the male wardrobe and only pieces of it on the larger end.
    Miranda knew that was foolish to care about it, but the fact she had to give up on female clutches due to her figure, stung.
    She would have to ask Shepard to bring it for her. The operative had to admit, non-sarcastically, that commander was helpful. The brunette wrote a quick request and glanced at her reflection.
    This time any disgust she felt was drowned under the wave of spiteful satisfaction.
    I hope you get proper reports, father. Look at the effect of the fortune spent on genetic research, look at your legacy
    Her every limb was covered in an undeniable layer of soft adipose. Unlike T’Soni’s, Miranda’s face did little to combat the onslaught of fat, her cheekbones were all, but invisible, cheeks inflated and under it was a clear beginning of second chin. Of course, the bulk of blubber concentrated in her curves. The operative never had thought she would be so happy for Shepard’s own enormous bottom and chest, tanks to it the brunette had something to borrow. The erogenous zones had, barely noticeable under inspection, signs after healed stretchmarks. 
    Her gut was in worse condition, due to the terrible abuse it had been enduring lately, it picked on more mass, but also was covered in reddish, still healing marks. Miranda usually fell into a food coma before smearing the lotion on herself and she had only her extraordinary biology to thanks for the situation not being worse.
    Speaking of her gut…
    The operative massaged the soft surface and instinctively looked down.
    She was hungry. Good
    Of course, the brunette wasn’t able to see her tum, it was obscured by her enormous, softening boobs. She could see veins pulsing under the skin, and small patches of boob-flesh overflowing the bra.
    However, her cravings quickly snapped her out of the trance. Miranda was still getting used to it. Thanks to T’Soni’s drugs, she was constantly hungry. That feeling simply ranged from an almost obsessive desire to devour everything in sight, to a slight compulsion to stuff yourself further despite being on the verge of explosion.
    Her omitool beeped, Shepard wrote that she’s going to bring clothes an hour later, she was busy sparing.
    Miranda felt herself smiling, it was enough time for a snack.
    With relief, she fell on the couch in the bedroom area. The brunette had never before thought that standing for such a short time could be tiring, but now she was learning otherwise.
    With a grunt, she picked a container and a bottle of shake from under the couch. Inside, there were enough MRE’s, to be more than a full meal volume-wise and more than several meals worth calorie-wise.
    With no remorse Miranda began systematically destroy the box’s contents, occasionally sipping on the dense liquid. And in a matter of minutes, she devoured a load of food that several weeks ago would leave her stuffed to the brim.
    Now…well, the brunette could still go for more, despite feeling a considerable load in her stomach.
    She rubbed her engorged middle and reminded herself that under her desk was another box, that one containing some sweets beside usual rations. The obese asari had pocked those as well to vary her meals. Miranda ignore those so far, but now…
    There was one problem, food and her own bulk was weighting the operative down, and during last months she experienced very little physical exercise. To put it simply, even if she would deny it, Miranda had gotten lazy and didn’t want to leave the couch.
    Then the stuffed female heard doors opening, her brow furrowed. She had ordered EDI to not let anyone, not “in-the-know”, in without asking her first. So who…
    “Where are you bitch? Don’t hide, the computer said you’re here” shouted a familiar voice.
    …well she does fit the criteria sighed the brunette mentally, she felt good and didn’t want to deal with the criminal. Then a daring idea came to her, if Jack was here she may as well be useful.
    “I’m sitting here. You would notice if you cared to look before shouting. If you want anything, please hand me the container from under the desk” informed the operative casually. Miranda was simply sitting on the couch in a location obscured by the shower.
    “I’m not your fucking maid, cheerleader!” hissed the convict and began going towards the brunette.
    “I wouldn’t think of this, but I can keep quiet about anything you ask me later the taller woman explained. What followed was series of curses and grumbling, but it would seem that the former prisoner picked up the item.
    “The fuck is…” 
    Jack arrived with the container, frown visible on her face, but the moment she saw the glutted Miranda, she exploded with laughter. 
    “…hahahaaa...so…your…a pig not…haha… a bitch…”
    The operative patiently endured the laughter and various insults.
    “Are you done? The box” interrupted annoyed Miranda.
    The snickering convict handed it to her and the brunette reached for the fattening content.
    “ppffff...you really think you need more food?” asked Jack as she watched the overweight woman bit into a nutrient bar.
    “I believe *munch* that I informed you of my reasons for *munch* my overindulgence. If *munch* you don’t want to watch turn around or * munch* get out” informed the operative between bites.
    The mocking smirk disappeared, Jack seemingly couldn’t decide on the proper expression, finally settling on the furrow.
    “Shut it bitch, I have questions”
    And surprising Miranda the tattooed woman pulled from behind a holopad that had been stepped to the harness, to one of the straps that made up her “outfit”. 
    For the next several minutes the criminal had asked questions, mentioned few things that needed to be clarified as well as other issues. Miranda kept on eating and answering, discussing.
    The entire situation genuinely surprised Miranda. Despite crude language and insults, it was clear that Jack had thoroughly read the data provided by her and T’Soni, what’s more, she sorted them and managed to correctly interpret them.
    It was a far cry from the mindless, albeit dangerous, hooligan the brunette had categorized Jack as.
    There was a brief break in the conversation when Miranda felt a donut next to her lips. Without a thought, she bit into it, although something was wrong.
    When the brunette swallowed the last bite, she realized she hadn’t been the one holding the threat.
    “Pfff…don’t try bullshitting me that it's just part of some cover piggy” said Jack with a smirk.
    Miranda felt blood rushing to her cheeks and a growing spark of fury. But she forced herself to remain calm, to think.
    The taller woman shifted to a more comfortable position, widened space between her legs for now tightly protruding gut, leaned more on the back to relieve her spine of some load. Normally she wouldn’t assume such an undignified position, even before such degenerate as Jack, but…
    “Since you’re so eager to help *munch*, please do continue” Miranda informed, swallowed the bit of MRE, and simply opened her mouth, waiting.
    Jack recoiled, smirk disappearing, turning into confusion and…something(?), but surprisingly not in the disgust. Soon a look of angry determination and bared, clenched teeth overshadowed everything.
    “You’re on, hog” replied the convict and grabbed another treat.
    The following minutes were probably the most bizarre in Miranda’s life, which was saying something.
    Accompanied by various, imaginative profanities Jack was cramming both sweets and MRE’s bars into Miranda’s mouth. It took some time before the convict adjusted pace so the brunette wouldn’t choke, but soon enough the operative was receiving food at a speed that allowed her to bite, chew and swallow. 
    Nothing else was possible. Miranda was barely able to eat and not easy, but the bald woman didn’t care. Save the nature of food it was quite similar to Shepard’s treatment with funnel.
    Not entirely though, Shepard had been indifferent and completely professional during those, while Jack was full of passion, even if fuelled by anger.
    For some reason, this made the operative feel…strange, even if not unpleasant.
    The unreal process was at its end. Miranda’s belly became taunt and round, only a small rift remaining after folds. Oh, it wasn’t her limit, with months of practice and newfound elasticity the brunette could easily pack in more, but the container was empty.
    The only thing remaining was that European(?) donut with filling in Jack’s fingers. The convict crammed it between the brunette’s lips and she dutifully bitted into it.
    However as the treat was being consumed, the chocolate filling was escaping in the opposite direction, on the tattooed fingers.
    It was unclear what was the cause, was Jack too slow or Miranda too fast and too entranced to stop, or perhaps all of this was in work.
    Sufficient to say, that the over operative didn’t stop at the last part of a cake, instantly started to lick the much thinner than her own fingers, sucking a thick layer of chocolate filling and frosting.
    The operative realized what she was doing only once the tattooed hand was all but clean. She recoiled as if the convict’s hand was made from red-hot steel and absent-mindedly swallowed the sweet mass that had been stuffing her cheeks.
    The sight before her was, once again, most surprising. Instead of disgust, typical for her wrath or even surprise, Jack’s face betrayed confusion, and… was that blush on her face?!
    The seconds of following silence seemed like an eternity to both women.
    Suddenly, like a startled animal, Jack stood up.
    “Fuck you, fuck this shit!” yelled the convict, but her voice was strangely breaking, lacking conviction.
    With that, the tattooed woman fled the room. Yes, it couldn’t be a mistake for anything else than escape.
    Miranda was left on the couch with remains of food on the fabric around her, on her face, with distended, fat gut between her legs and wide open, gaping mouth.
    She had been wrong – this was the most bizarre in her life.
     
     
    ***
    Several hours later 
    Captain’s quarters 
    Tali was contemplating her reflection in the bathroom’s big mirror. Anyone, even passingly familiar with a quarian body language would notice her distress.
    To be more exact, the engineer's attention was focused on her lower body. Her hips, bottom, and legs – the places where her new adipose was mostly focused and, noticeable, even when in the suit. While outside of the isolation it was possible to notice an increase in other areas, her lower body was as big, if not bigger, than Miranda’s. Of course, she was lighter, for now, than the operative, but her gain was more focused. And she was gaining on the brunette.
    In short, only the blind wouldn’t notice the fact that Tali was probably the most bootylicious quarian alive. And her species was more gifted in that area than humans or asari.
    Now, instead of helping to prepare for nearing arrival and repairs, the engineer was fussing about how people on the Citadel will react to her figure. Tali herself wasn’t bothered by it any longer, the crew was either accepting or smart enough not to make an issue of it.
    But they were approaching the Citadel, heart of the galactic government, full of scruffy diplomats, businessmen, and other individuals with superiority complex bigger than the station itself. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be a quarian normally, but how all those egocentrics would react? What’s worse how would react a fellow quarian, they were some on the Citadel.
    Tali had long since developed a thick skin to various profanities and accusations, she would deal with them. But it doesn’t mean she wasn’t a bit concerned, especially about the prospect of meeting a pilgrim from the Flotilla.
    “You’re overthinking” informed a voice.
    Tali pose straightened and she looked calmly at the source. Leaning on the doorframe was Elizabeth, wearing her casual outfit and with a small smile. The quarian had, somehow, gotten used to the spectre appearing out of thin air.
    “I know, I know… it’s just…I really don’t want this visit to be ruined by some comments. It's rare meet quarian as big as me” explained the engineer with embarrassment.
    Shepard approached and took her hands.
    “Yes, I have never met a quarian as beautiful as you, prettier than any woman at Citadel. That and I know that you’re smarter than to get angry because of some idiot with a quarter of your brain. You’re skilled, intelligent, if someone will insult based on how you look or your species it’s miracle they lived past infancy. Also, please remember that I’ll be there if you need me” the commander said warmly.
    Her words made Tali blush under the helmed and feel insects in her belly.
    “Worst case, you can sic the butcher of Torfan on anyone who sours your mood or blackmail them through our lovely asari archaeologist” Shepard added with a wicked grin. 
    The quarian freed one hand and playfully smacked the spectre.
    “No murder and no blackmail. You two are bad enough as it is”
    Elizabeth laughed and pulled her lover close, almost enough to bury the purple vision in her ample bosom, stopping barely an inch away from it. Not that Tali would have minded, especially as she felt the long fingers on her hips.
    “Mmmm… since we’re on topic. I cannot help but wonder how much you've grown, wouldn’t you mind checking?” purred Shepard with a sweet smile. 
    Again the quarian felt heat on her face and didn’t realize that she had never informed Elizabeth of this feature in her suit.
    “Hymp… fine, give me a moment” replied the shorter woman and with some regret wrangled herself from the human’s embrace. She started typing on her omnitool, it was a simple and quick affair but took enough time for the spectre to tightly hug her lover from behind.
    “210 pounds” Tali whispered, she knew she had put on weight, it was painfully clear, but to be aware of the exact number…
    “Hmmm… that’s a nice start.” 
    The quarian heard it spoken in a low, rumbling voice right beside her head and could feel vibrations from the large, muscular body pressing to her chubby one. She felt the heat spreading through her body, also in the lower sections, and suddenly remembered the conversation she had few hours prior.
    Thanks to Eristena, Tali had been able to converse with Zoma. While they knew each other only briefly it was still nice and further reassured Shepard’s lover of her kinsman's safety. The duo also spoke about less crucial things, the obese quarian’s perceptivity surprised the engineer. The immobilized woman managed to notice Tali’s own increased figure and interrogate her about her current relationship status. In return, she shared her own experiences and mentioned many experiences she had thanks to her blubbery body.
    Zoma was very descriptive, very graphically so. Now, scenarios she had been talking about flashed through Tali’s mind. She could help but wonder, how it would feel to be with Shepard while being as large as Zoma…
    Then, she looked up and glanced at the mirror. That turned her attention away from vivid scenarios.
    Shepard was sporting that strange, unsettling grin of hers, but the spectre’s reflection seemed blurry(?) and… was that eyes?
    “Eh… as much as I would love to stay we have job to do. But later… I know this restaurant on Citadel, nothing fancy, but I think you’ll like it” Shepard said, in a voice ridiculously unfitting the phantasm Tali had seen in the mirror and reluctantly released her girlfriend.
    “Ah…I would love to” answered the engineer when she snapped out of the daze and a warm feeling returned.
    Still, as Tali watched the tall woman leave, she couldn’t help but wonder about the terrible image in the mirror.
     
     
    ***
    Several hours later
    Citadel
    “Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?” asked the maiden pleasantly enough, but scanned a potential customer with wary eyes. Not surprisingly, she was an employee in one of the high-end stores on Citadel and Miranda had to make do with Cerberus uniform. However, the brunette had no answer for the faint blush that appeared on the asari's face.
    “I have a bit of situation. I need to replenish my wardrobe and resize a few clothes” informed the operative and gestured to a rather large container hovering next to her.
    “Of course, I’ll happily show you what we have to offer, but I’m afraid we adjust only our products and for premium members” answered the saleswoman with a beaming smile.
    Miranda felt anger and embarrassment in her chest. She was somewhat familiar with the asari, the maiden was the one usually attending to her when thebrunttewas in this store. The operative was indeed a premium member and she knew for the fact that the employee had memorized her.
    But that had been over a hundred pounds ago.
    Wordlessly, she flashed omnitool, sending data to the asari’s console. The maiden blinked in surprise and this time fully blushed.
    “M… Miss Lawson, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Is this something normal for humans? I thought that…” rambled the normally very professional asari.
    “No, as it turned out I possess a very rare genetic disorder. Now, Miss Javo, can we please return to the matter at hand?” interrupted the operative sternly.
    The asari managed to compose herself, her expression returned to the pleasant, professional one, but a faint tint of purple remained on her cheeks for some reason.
    “Of course ma’am”
    First, they had taken Miranda’s measurements. There was no trouble with that, although a human woman responsible for this raised eyebrows at them. Then came an attempt at finding new clothes.
    It was when…complications started.
    Miranda was aware of how much she gained as well as the only pieces of lingerie that fit her was Shepard’s, which had been custom made. So she started with the biggest sets available, intending to scale down accordingly.
    That didn’t work as planned.
    Most of the shop’s merchandise simply didn’t fit the brunette. Mostly she wasn’t even able to close the bras or put on panties. Even if Miranda managed this feat, it couldn’t be even called a close fit, as lingerie dug painfully in her adipose-filled flesh. Her breast overflowed bras in a truly ridiculous manner, pants gave her painful wedges, and even then were mostly covered by her meaty butt cheeks.
    Miranda’s temper was rising and the maiden attending her was getting more embarrassed and distressed by a minute.
    Finally, gritting her teeth, the brunette gave up on lingerie and skipped to clothes.
    Results were similar, or even worse, as an attempt to fit in the clothes resulted in a very graphic testament to how much the operative's figure had changed.
    Miranda was seething, furious with the situation, although there were a few contradictory feelings mixed in. The artificial-made woman was furious about the inability to restock her wardrobe, not her overweight body. At the same time, the brunette felt a vengeful satisfaction, she hoped that somebody was updating her father of her current state, she hoped he saw her fat, swollen body.
    “Miss Lawson?” asked the asari carefully.
    “Yes?”
    The maiden winced at the falsely pleasant tone of the human female but continued.
    “I’m afraid that we don’t have anything else and resizing will be finished tomorrow, not today. We…we simply don’t have enough fabric” explained the maiden, almost visibly shrinking under Miranda’s gaze.
    The operative felt herself shaking, but forced herself to close her eyes and inhale a square meter of air.
    “I see”
    “But…well, a several meters from here is another store of our brand, however, it specializes in maternal outfits…” advised the saleswoman, very quietly.
    Miranda simply stared for several seconds, before exhaling, her expression relaxed.
    “Thank you for the information, I’ll check it. My ship sets out in three days, I expect my clothes to be done by then, please send me the notification” the brunette answered and began walking out the store.
    She didn’t see that the maiden was very closely observing her wobbling butt with bitten lip and blush.
    ***
    Three hours later
    The Normandy SR-2, The third deck,
    The elevator opened, revealing an unusual image.
    The snickering Jack was leaning on equally cheerful Miranda, the convict’s nose nearly in the large cleavage. The operative wasn't faring much, better on her face was a visible smile unfitting her typical stern image and she supported herself a bit on Shepard. On the other, the blood-haired woman seemed perfectly sober only a bit annoyed, only tendency to slip into her native language being a sign of consumed alcohol. Finally, there was Kasumi, who was dangling like a sack of potatoes over, the spectre's shoulder. The thief murmured something, every then and now exploding into a fit of giggles.
    But what resulted in this?
    It’s simple, really.
    Miranda had visited the shop advertised by the asari maiden and had been returning to the ship with the supply of material, albeit high-quality and fashionable, clothes.
    Still, she was in a rather foul mood, the operative was hungry, ravenous really, her joints ached with weak, but constant dull pain caused by extra pounds. Then, she had been ambushed by Kasumi. The thief invited her for a “girl-time”. Obviously, the brunette was firmly against it, but a mix of nagging and blackmail convinced her to go if only to have the thief stop talking.
    The operative was led to the establishment of a much lower category than she would have ventured out of her own volition, but it was surprisingly tidy.
    Inside, the operative easily noticed Shepard(it was hard not to) and when she took a closer look, she noticed yeoman Chambers and unfortunately Jack.
    Obviously, the convict had started with insults and Miranda had been already in a poor mood so a scuffle almost broke out. The spectre had diffused situation with few “calming” words and stern gaze, accompanied by the fellow ginger's much more positive commentary.
    The beginning of the “party” was tense. Shepard wanted to unwind when none of her lovers was available. Jack wanted to get smashed and have some fun(of whatever variety she could find). Kasumi wanted to fish for some juicy tidbits and have some laughs. Miranda wanted to be back on the Normandy take shower and most importantly eat something, Kelly…well she wanted many things.
    However, most ladies had made a critical error. They had let Elizabeth chose liquor and set the pace. When it comes to stronger alcohols, the human spectre accepted only vodka or even stronger, homemade beverages.
    Miranda and Jack are biotics and no strangers to various alcohols, but while it’s a miraculous hangover cure, the ability didn’t prevent them from getting **.
    Kelly was surprisingly resilient for her petite frame, Kasumi a bit less so.
    Shepard…well, later when the second, 2-liter bottle of vodka had shown bottom, the tall woman was still infuriatingly sober and had tenderly reminiscence her family moonshine recipe.
    Meanwhile, the thief had been fighting bravely but seemed to be loseing connection with reality momentarily. Surprisingly, both Jack and Miranda had been happy drunks. Still, mostly coherent, but their insults turned playful, joking, even if normally they would be at each other’s throats at this point. Kelly had sneaked out with some female turian, a bottle earlier.
    With resignation, Shepard had stood up and a minute later returned with two bottles and normal glass. One had been identical to previous ones, second was smaller and had ryncol inside. The commander wasn’t a fan of this drink, it had disgusting texture and taste, but had been determined to get at least tipsy.
    She poured vodka into her companions’ shot glasses and mix of it and ryncol to hers.
    When both bottles were empty, Shepard had been experiencing a faint hum that soothed the pain of lonesome existence and decided that it had been a job well done.
    At the same time, the convict and operative had been engaged in a game of ”who-had-shittier-childhood” and some weird, passive-aggressive flirting. Kasumi was lying on the table, ready to transcendent to another state of enlightenment.
    Of course, they had to make their way back to the ship, which culminated in the elevator scene. The good( debatable in the spectre case) thing was that the walk allowed them to sober up a bit, save Kasumi.
    “I’m going to put our master thief in her bed. You two, wait or can you make it on your own?” Elizabeth asked the duo.
    “I’m… perfectly capable…”
    “We ain’t some like-weights like the hoody…*hic*”
    “…yes”
    The spectre nodded and made her way to the thief’s abode. The bizarre pair started to carefully stumble to Miranda’s office. Once inside they both fell on the bed with relief and a giggle that was very contradictory to their normal personas.
    It was that moment, that hunger pierced through to Miranda’s alcohol-clouded mind, snacks back at the bar had been a drop in the bucked of what her stomach needed.
    Then she realized that somebody grabbed her butt cheeks.
    “Fuck, you got one fat ass” murmured Jack and squeezed. The operative responded with neither moan nor giggle.
    “Mmm… better than yours. If you’re bored grab me something to eat, first” said the brunette and lazily gestured to the container with the afternoon meal.
    The tattooed woman grimace, but swaying she brought food. Meanwhile, with effort Miranda managed to, roll over on her back.
    “Shiiitt, you’re sure you aren’t a cow, those tits look ready to be milked”
    The operative snapped the tattooed hand that reached for her boob, which almost resulted in Jack falling on her.
    “Food, now. Cultivating a perfect body requires a proper nu...nut...nutr… food. And do this properly this time” informed Miranda.
    “Pft, like you need more lard” snorted the convict and loudly clapped the brunette’s fat gut.
    The operative merely opened her mouth, she was hungry.
    It was a repeat of the situation from the days ago, only with more drunken clumsiness and cheer.
    Much more cheer.
    For some reason botch females were getting hotter and it wasn’t just alcohol at work.
    “Fuck, you’re getting off of this” Jack vocalized her observation, when Miranda had let out less than… appropriate sound after eating a pastry.
    It was a good thing she had already swallowed.
    “Wh…What? Have you finally lost your mind?!” sputtered the operative and tried to get up, but a donut, forcefully shoved between her lips, brought her down.
    “You hate daddy so much? Or do you just like being fattened like a pig, cheerleader? Who’s degenerate now, bitch?” sneered the criminal with glee.
    The brunette managed to chow down the treat in record time, anger piercing through the alcohol-fuelled cheer.
    “It takes one to know another or you groping and ogling my tits is just an accident?” hissed Miranda in low voice and looked into Jack’s face.
    The tattooed woman’s expression went through several different emotions in the spawn of few seconds, finally second on determination, accompanied by a smirk.
    “You know what cheerleader? Fuck this”
    Two things happened almost at once, another treat was forced into the brunette’s mouth. Meanwhile, Jack’s hand moved from the lower portion of Miranda’s upper thigh, place it had been happily occupying for several last minutes, to under the brunette’s trouser and between two enlarged legs.
    “MMMmmmm!” moaned Miranda through a stuffed mouth.
    “You like that, don’t you?! You like being fed and fucked like a pig! Why don’t you squeal for…!”
    The grinning woman’s rant was interrupted when the brunette pulled on one of the straps that make up the convict's outfit. Two women were facing each other.
    The operative, swallowed food, nearly ** in the process.
    “You can either shut the fuck up and get going for real or get out of my room” gaped Miranda breathlessly
    Jack grinned again, one hand was reaching for another dounut, the second was clumsily ripping the newly bought clutches.
    It was going to be a fun night.
     
     
     ***
    Around the same time
    Hagalaz’s atmosphere, The Shadow Broker’s ship
    Liara with tired satisfaction sat on her bed. The work as the Shadow Broker and preparing for Reapers was mentally demanding as well as draining. But the effects, even if some were appearing minuscule, were reassuring. The obese asari was pleased about it.
    “Will that be all, Miss T’Soni?” politely asked an artificially generated voice.
    It was yet another success in the doctor’s book. After months of painstaking, careful reprogramming she had managed to turn the previous Broker’s obnoxious VI into something truly great, she was sure even Tali would be impressed. The broker had given it designation: Glymph.
    “Yes, please have the package from Illium brought her I want to test it” replied asari.
    “Of course. Ma’am” and with that blue sphere flew off.
    Liara smiled, it was good to have a…
    *GGGGGRRRRROOOOOWWWWWLLLLL*
    A deep, guttural growl rippled through the air like the hungry roar of an ancient beast.
    Well, it wasn’t exactly incorrect, save for the “ancient” part.
    The doctor with a blush on her face rubbed her gargantuan gut, normally she would have bent to its every demand, but the asari wanted to try something. It was hard to hold herself down, Liara was a growing matron after all.
    Indeed, the information broker was happily gorging herself and growing, every part of her body swelling like dough. Her belly kept widening, creeping on her knees, every day farther. And the gluttonous sphere was hardly an exception, by the void even the asari’s blue toes were bigger.
    A few days ago, the doctor realized with arousal, just in how different directions her arms had been pointing when she had pressed them to her meaty body. That wasn’t the only sign of her gluttony, Liara could still put on the shoes, but the task was so troublesome, that she left completely to one of many bots, the ex-archaeologist was using. Same with the rest of the clothes and certain, manual activities. Although all things considered, the automated assistance had been, so far, caused by laziness and convenience, but it appeared that in not so distant future they would be necessary as the asari grew.
    It’s quite astounding what a few pounds on an already large body can body noted Liara, surprisingly ignorant of the truth. 
    Surprising, even for herself, was how at peace with her slowly decreasing mobility, or perhaps the doctor was too pleased with her adipose-filed body to truly care.
    With some effort, she managed to snuggle down in the middle of the bed, where the asari had prepared herself a spot with many pillows that nicely compensated her changing proportions. Then, the young matron grabbed a nearly holopad and began reviewing less crucial projects.
    Mmm… Dr. Ahum and his team are doing a good job. Also, they have everything prepared and are going to start shooting soon. There’s no telling about the results, but that’s barely a drop in the budget, and if our observations are any indication… mused Liara.
    “Ma’am” a synthetic voice interrupted her line of thoughts. Glymph returned and controlled by him robot brought in the package from Illium.
    The item was a slightly modified machine that had been used to “help” patients bulk up mass, in Dr. Ahum’s facility. Most recently it had been used on Elona Loni and Heless Vate.
    Why Liara would want such a device delivered? Simple, beyond purely physical, and increasingly demanding(the routine itself remained the same), exercises to avoid muscle entropy, Liara was taking up more biotic training. Most of this would be too hard for asari of her age, but the young matron had supplies of eezo and fuel far surpassing any other member of her age group and most matriarchs.
    At the same time, even if the information broker’s species was the most “energy-efficient” when it came to biotics, it didn’t change the fact that new activity burned through many calories.
    Keeping that in mind as well as her goal of gaining 50 pounds, Liara had ordered the machine. It was all purely for practical reasons and she didn’t intend to use it often if at all. It wasn’t as if the doctor was curious, not at all.
    Soon, the robot set everything up.
    “Thank you, Glymph. Please leave the remote near me, just in case. That will be all for today, you can return to your duties after finishing” informed Liara.
    “Of course, Miss T’Soni”
    The mech, thankfully it was a delicate, medical model, began inserting a funnel into Liara’s throat. The experience was a bit unpleasant, but not terribly so.
    Almost immediately, the cream began flowing, the VI flew off and the doctor returned to the lecture.
    While this mode of consumption was without the typical pleasure, a taste of food and physical act, however, the young matron knew that the paste, while more calorie-rich than any edible substance, had a taste that left much to be desired.
    Minutes passed. At first, nothing happened, the substance was flowing calmly and the ex-researcher’s stomach needed quite a lot to even feel sated.
    Of course, a considerable time later, this moment arrived, but the machine didn’t stop there. The paste kept being forced down Liara’s throat and her stomach grew.
    The heavy asari ceased reading and focused on expanding mass, she tenderly rubbed its tender, pulsating with heat surface. Before this “meal”, she had consumed a lot of strong digestives, stretchers, and special, local anesthetic, so the doctor could pack away even more food.
    Her spherical gut stretched, but the layer of blubber was too thick so it remained soft. Two chubby hands were rubbing the distending belly, the fullness inside growing to the aching, almost painful levels.
    But Liara didn’t mind, instead, her soft face began getting purple with blush.
    By the Goddess, she couldn’t help but imagine Elizabeth being there with her, Tali too would be welcome. To have them witness the testament to her gluttony, her dedication, and her fertile body. To have them plant a litter of beautiful daughters into her bountiful, fat flesh as they worshipped it.
    The ex-archaeologist had heard tales of her species's lust, but she had chalked them up as rumors, caused by incomplete information.
    But now? The doctor wasn’t so sure.
    Now, with her lard-laden belly ridiculously swollen and painful, one hand remained on it while the second went to her equally enormous breast and nipple. Liara didn’t even try to reach between her tree-trunk-like legs, besides the sensitivity of that area for asari was minuscule compared to other species.
    The pain grew and so the obese matron’s arousal, her imagination was running wild. She founded the monstrous, agony-filled, mass that pined her to the cracking bed and her chest. Liara’s heart was pounding furiously, managing to easily supply an enormous body only thanks to eons of evolution. The furious moans were barely muffed by the hose in the mouth and any movement was prevented by the very flesh that put in her state, but that only added to the doctor's excitement.
    Ultimately, when her throbbing, beaded with sweat stomach felt ready to crack, when wrangling in ecstasy the young asari managed to make her obese body sway by millimeters… Liara reached her end.
    SSSSsssssheeeparrrd!!!!.....
    The mountain of asari went limp, her hands falling to the sides and eyes rolling back. The ex-archaeologist almost immediately drifted asleep, tired by the day’s events, and only her soft, distended middle was facing highly upwards in the mockery of common sense.
    Soon, soundless the medbot arrived and gently removed the funnel from Liara’s lips.
    Then, it left the counted asari alone to digest and grow…GROW.
     
  7. Hot
    xXWWhiteXx got a reaction from ulvrik in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    Ok, somehow I managed to muster enough energy to sit down and finish this part. It was meant to be longer, but I saw no sense in continuing for now, and, dare I write it, the end result seems... adequate. But please write what do you think.
    Second, speaking of chapters' length, I've been meaning to ask this earlier, but forgot, should I try to post shorter chapters, but more frequently? I know there's a lot of space between lines but, still.
    Third, I did a bit of research. Did you know that all seats in Miranda's office have no armrests, and it's the case in many seats in the game? No stuckage for now, sorry. 😅
    Hope It'll amuse you, at least
     
    ***
    Chapter 24: Hello Jack
     
     
    Next “Morning”
    Normandy SR-2, Capitan’s quarters
     
     
    Tali groaned when she felt herself slipping out of food-coma. The quarian glanced down and her brow furrowed, her belly was much larger than she remembered. Sure some od this was from the food, but the rest….
    The hours since Shepard’s returns were intense, to say the least. The commander fed her, using both paste and solid foods, to the absolute limits. Then the engineer was left to sleep it off and procedure repeated.
    Of course there were breaks for sex, besides by now intimacy and eating were almost always connected. So in the end no matter how unreal it felt, Tali was starting having hard time imaging one without another and meals that didn’t left her stuffed.
    It seemed that Shepard was dead set on outdoing the former eclipse asari in fattening as soon as possible
    Despite her outward actions and reassurances to herself, the quarian was getting more and more eager about the prospect. The small part of her mind that whispered how wonderful it would be to completely under the commander control as she grow was getting almost impossible to control. How it would feel to be bigger than Zoma, immobilized by her own flam and pampered by the beautiful vommander.
    She signed and rubbed her expanded middle, knowing that it wasn’t the most affected part of her. The engineer activated her omnitool, but there was nothing that required her attention.
    Then the woman heard the doors opened and Shepard came inside. The commander was wearing a wide, satisfied, albeit normal smile. The quarian expected impromptu feeding and lovemaking session.
    This wasn’t the case.
    The spectre starred at her lover with dreamy look before starting.
    “Hmmm….as much as I hate interrupt such fruitful work I think we both should go to Mordin. He said he has some new conclusions about this asari side project of his and your friend’s medical data. Liara’s going to be there to, apparently she’s curious about it.” The human woman informed and winked.
    “But later we’ll continue”
    “You’re relentless” moaned Tali, but fought grin that was forcing itself on her face. Shepard flashed her abnormally, pearly white teeth and went to take the suit from the container.
    The engineer stood up, becoming increasingly aware of the load in her stomach and her increased weight. Absentmindedly she reached sown and reached her butt, far earlier than it had used to happened.
    The most affected by Shepard’s efforts was her lover body. The quarian’s ass reached reaching the sized of the air-inflated ball used in many human sport, a bit bigger than, overall much heavier, Miranda’s. She already felt her thighs brushing even when walking.
    Then Tali felt, five fingered hand squeeze her other butt-cheek.
    “You can be quite tease, you know” purred the commander next to the quarian’s ear. The engineer flushed, but Shepard disdn’t start anything, much to her lover disappointment.
    With her human’s help, Tali squeezed herself into the suit and both went to the elevator.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Few Minutes later
    Tech Labs
    The “conference” was about to start. Shepard was standing near Mordin with crossed arms and neutral expression. The scientist was looking through the data with usual for hum fervour and humming something. Tali was sitting quite far away from them, trying her best to hide her swollen bottom.
    To the disappointment of both ladies, Liara’s presence was limited to audio.
    Surprisingly, after greetings and summary of events, back on Illium, the quarian was the first to speak.
    “Mordin, Shepard said you got Zoma’s results, is she fine?”
    The salarian’s head snapped immediately to look at her, with a small smile on his face.
    “Yes. No imminent treat present. Fascinating really. Quarian physiology not accustomed to such strains. Yet, its adaptive abilities manages to compensate. Patient healthy, with little negative effect, save reduced mobility. Unprecedented, far exceeding documented limits of… No, no limits, applications! Need to compare to krogan healing. Possible similarities, they could allow to…”
    “Slow down Doctor” the commanded, calmly, albeit firmly, interrupted the scientist monologue.
    “Are you saying that Naenn instead of atmosphere, adapted to being fat, enough to be fine. Didn’t she nearly had a heart attack?”
    The overactive scientist nodded.
    “Quarains’ ability’s limited by time and variety. Too large amount off pathogens at once causes serve consequences. One type of strain, over slowly grooving over time allows body to adapt. In this case, patients body wasn’t ready for it yet. Also, changes allow only for survival, not proper functioning.” Mordin explained quickly.
    “If I understand you correctly doctor, quarians are able to gain large amount of weight with little adverse side effect. However, they can’t function properly in those condition. So it’s different for us” summarised the familiar voice of ex-archaeologist, albeit a little bit deeper than they remembered.
    “Yes. Quarian’s ability allow to survive and results can largely differ between individuals. In asari, large amounts of fat tissue, cause changes that are results of millennia of evolution, are near identical, analogical, that allow for grater functioning with it as well as focusing body on reproduction. Still, all organisms have limits, wouldn’t advise testing those outside laboratory. For Miss Zorah’s friend I recommend several weeks of close medical observation, if nothing changes, no reason to maintain it. She should be fine and is in good hands”
    Tali was an energetic engineer, who when pressed could operate on speeds that almost reached that od hyperactive salarian. Thanks to it she managed to understand what he had said.
    “Thanks Mordin. Could you call me if something changes?” the quarian requested politely and the professor nodded.
    “Of course, admire the quarians cooperation. Have several advices helpful for mixed special couples as well data from Miss T’Soni team. With you increasing volume I advise extra caution” added Dr Solus innocently, but the quarian felt ready to melt.
    “Professor, we appreciate your concern, but please stay on topic. You wrote that there were new discoveries based of examinations of Cerithia T'mivus. Could you share them with us?” the asari saved the engineer from the embarrassing silence. Shepard enjoyed her squirming far too much to save the quarian.
    Mordin already widely gesticulating with his hands started to move through the room.
    “Yes. Excited. Asari the longest spacefaring species, seemingly well documented biology and lifecycle. Still managed undocumented processes in them. The original theory confirmed with little modifications thanks to Miss T’Soni data. However it’s incomplete, the patient T'mivus condition provided invaluable information. Asari mongo-gendered, but live in family units almost identical to other, poly-gendered species, save for inclination to polygamy. Miss T’Soni state seems to be best suited for reproduction and taking care of new-borns. However it would leave her sustainable to predators, low chances of survival alone. Logical necessity for asari that would fill more masculine role, protecting her mate and providing her with sufficient nutrition”
    “Mordin” interrupted Shepard, it was getting hard to understand the quick stream of worlds pouring from his lips.
    “Are you saying that T'mivus basically become a male asari?”
    “No, although not wholly incorrect. It’s rare, but not unobserved for asari to assume more masculine, protective role in relationship, even after carrying an offspring. In this case patient’s illness, upon entering next biological stage, caused instincts to develop to abnormal levels. The asari was fortunate, hormone levels almost caused organ failure, will need more medical attention. Extra evidence provided by Miss T’Soni commando. Herself and her asari subordinates experienced themselves to be physically fascinated by Miss Naenn’s body” the salarian explained, surprising all of his guests.
    “So asari are naturally chubby chasers? Then why it’s such news, we should have heard about something about it” noticed Shepard.
    “Not necessary. Most asari are extremely sensible to their image, the beauty standards in our societies may cause that the concept of overweight asari is never confided in any meaningful manner. The imperative to feed partner is always ignored or wrongly interpreted, likely too week to affect behaviour outside very specific condition, asari in this position are minority. Form of matriarch maturity observed in Miss T’Soni aren’t documented for the same reason. If process is viewed as shameful, censorship may be the reason for lack of data”
    For the several seconds two women and an asari were absorbing his words.
    “Hmm… professor Solus have a point, if there is something that may discredit us or make us appear unappealing our government sweeps it under the rook faster than overly squeamish maidens” admitted Liara reluctantly.
    “Yes. Admittedly this part largely unproved, albeit fitting. Still have some data and simulations to go through, but need more data from wider pool to confirm” finished the hyperactive salarian.
    “I admit that the topic interesting to me, for obvious reasons. I may have an idea how to gather necessary information, but it’s just an concept for now. I’ll send you information if I have something concrete. Will it be all?” said the ex-archaeologist.
    “Yes, thank you for the data. Refreshing to be working on fascinating topic, without danger. Nice change. Will inform if something new comes up. Now need to return to work. have few ideas to improve shields from collector swarm” replied Mordin and returner to his console, effectively ending conversation.
    Liara offered only casual, almost cold farewell to Shepard and much more positive to Tali. They did pretend to had broken up on bad terms.
    The spectre and quarian exited lab.
    “You go up without me. I need to check something… Ssshhh”
    Elizabeth put finger on the helmet’s speaker.
    “You can’t go to the engineering, we still have much to make up for. And don’t speak when eating. It’s impolite” the pale woman instructed with the small smirk.
    It’s worth noting that Tali’s silence, after healing about Zoma, was largely caused by the nutrient paste pouring to her mouth. The large container attached to suit had been freshly refilled by the commander.
    The engineer did an annoyed pose, but did as asked(ordered). To be honest, she didn’t mind that much, being pampered by Shepard was pleasant and the smaller woman knew there would be a reward for good behaviour.
    Still, Tali decided everything had to have limits. So with firm resolution to offer more steadfast opposition if situation continues for much longer, she went to elevator. Just like many times before.
    Meanwhile, Shepard made her way to XO’s quarters. Since their return, she didn’t have the time to talk with Miranda. What’s more she had received several notification about her stomach reaching its limits. The operative was an smart woman, she could have found a way to cheat the sensors, or hopefully learned to properly deal with it by herself.
    While the commander was sceptic, she wouldn’t mind. Contrary to what Miranda may think she didn’t feed her to spite her.
    The doors were firmly locked, but Shepard came in with little problem.
    The sight in side was a surprise, a pleasant one.
    Miranda was soundly asleep on her bead only in trousers and lingerie. Around her empty wrappers after various MRE’s, with bits of them visible on the sheets. The effects of the weeks of feeding were clearly visible, every part of her could be described as bigger.
    Not unrecognizably so, but if somebody hadn’t seen the brunette in those last months, he/she would likely assume that woman before her was Miranda’s close relative. Physically similar, but with none of the operative’s trademark strife to perfection or self-control.
    After all there’s was no way, that Miranda Lawson would let herself go like that. Those meaty, wide limbs, soft, ridiculously large breasts and beginning of double chin, under the cherubic face couldn’t possibly belong to the genetically engineered woman.
    Currently,  the commander attention was focused on the brunette stomach. The formerly washboard-flat organ had fallen behind the operative’s curves in expansion,, but right now it was her most prominent feature. Gone was the flabby bag, already splitting into two folds, in its place was a large orb almost as big as a medical ball. The strained gut was covered in red marks, gurgling angrily and seemingly moving with every ominous gurgle.
    The situation was clear to Elizabeth, although she was curious how it came to be and even more the regretted not being there to witness this obvious, rampant example of gluttony.
    To watch this soft belly being stuffed and rise, becoming strained as a drum. Even now it held undeniable appeal, the spectre was curious about how it would feel under her fingers…
    Shepard squashed her rising arousal, forcing her thoughts to remain cold. Miranda was an extremely attractive woman, to the commander even more than ever, but if there was few thing the tall female would never do, adultery was one of them.
     
     
    w̢̭̪̜̻͕͛̎̓ͤ̆̽͑̂̕ę̷̥͚͓͉̝͂̊ͭ̄̒̊ͅa͇͖̖̯̘̔̊̊̓̅̾ͯ͐ͅͅk̘ͣͤ̓͛͐̄ͬ͐͠ ̴̴̧͙͍̜̥̜ͮͤ̄̍̃̍h͕͔̱̐̿͜͡u͈̩͇̭ͮ̏͂́̕m̻̥̍͛̏̾ͫ̀̚a̡̨̪̪̤̟ͯͥ͝n̝̺̜̞̝̗͈͖͐̃͠ ̺͚̤̣̻̣̰̇̆̐̔̋ͬ͌ͅn̨̝̰͖ͬ͆̃ͬ̓̑ͅő̼̤̺̤ͯͣ̃ͤ̈́ͪ̄t̵̙͎͍̖̞͗̄ͨ̍i̡͎͇̘ͦͧ̍ͨ̐͆̀͜o̖ͤ̄̋̒͌̓̓ͭ͞͡n̦̰̎ͨ̎̍̃ͦ;̤̺̖͚ͣ̅ ̬̪̥̪̦ͬ̉ͫ͟n̢̹̟ͮ̉ͯ͌̔e̷͚͎͔͎͍͇͎̾e̸̬͍̒͆ͨͦͣͦ͛̀̚͠d̴̛̘̣̥̟̙͔̱̱̘͂̓̏̈́͋̑̕ ̼̦͚̑̂̇ͯ̋̎́̚͠m̑̐̆̔͆҉̤̮õ̡͉͖̝̃̅ͨ̓̾͢r̭̠̈͗ͫ̀͞e̠̥̘͖̗͖͗͊͊̚ ̠͎̈́̆̓͝͝m̸̵̗͔̗̝͉̖̥̊̆ḁ̗̭̗̍͒́ţ͓̹̫͔͇͈̖̝̄ͭͨ̓̚ě̎͗ͥ̈ͭ̔̾҉̮̪̲̻͚̹̬̖s̞̤ͪ̔̀ͮͬͨ̀ ̴̡̨͇̩̣̺̪͕̊͊̈́̏̍ͨ̎t̸͈͙͓̠͓̲̍͛̊͐ͩ̏̀͡ôͭ̏̇ͪ͑ͨ̀͠͏̰͔̲̝̗ ̷̭̪̘̥͓̗̜̼̓͑̈́̓̓ͦ̕͟f̵̼̃͊̈́͋͐͋̿ͤ͒̀ͅã̰̗͚̜̬̺̖̋̕͢͞t̹̻̓͒̐̏ͧ̐͟͞͠ț̸̨̼̼̦̯̞̟͇͒̃ͫ̏̏͑̈̚ȅ̴̗̘͍̰̻͚̮͍ͭͬͅņ̫͔̱̗̦̮͛͒̇͊ͥ̕ ̧̠͍͉͉ͬͥ́ͯ̊̒̅̂a̵̻͓̗͉̜͖ͩ͊͂̾̔͟n̸͖̗̘̦ͤ̇̂̚͘ͅd̘̹̲̫̰͋͐̊̃ͬ̑̐͠ ̙̙̠̻͋̀ͅb̶̧̤̹͍̤͚̝ͪͫ͂͡r̶̮̐͗̿̅̌̌̈̌̑̕e̸͕̩̟̞̺̤̯̙̜͂̋ͯ͆̐͌͌ͮ̚e̡̛̜̜̒ͧ̓̋̒͑͊ͩͥ͡d̂͗͗́̆̈́͞҉̻̜̻͎̬
     
     
     
    The commander shook her head, as if she just woke up. Seeing as Miranda was deep in slumber she decided for a bit of investigation.
    It didn’t take long to find an ingesting object.
    The spectre recognized container with stimulants, some of section were far for full.
    The wide, toothy grin-like expression split the pale face in two and red hum strengthened under the skin.
    The substances missing were far from the most potent, but considering variety and amount used in those few days, Miranda was going a hard time getting full in following weeks.
    Ģ̡̫͓͉̦̳̮̩̺̻̤̎̎͒͐̈̾̌ͥ̏̋̂̑̎ͣ́̉͟ͅͅõ̵ͪ͌̐̓͂̓͂͗̓ͣ͆̂̉̄͆ͦ҉͓̪̺̠͚̳̮o̧̞̱̜̼̮̦̰̱̥̰̹̹̤̹͓̘ͤ͗ͭͣ͊͗̿͆́͌̄̒̾̎͛̒͜͡d͛ͬ̐̀̽̾͋̆ͬͧ̊̚҉͇̼̩̺͜͢͝
     
    The spectre’s teeth somehow become sharper, elongated and the parody of smile on her face even wider.
    T̶̫̝͔̯̳͈̦̺̜͔̖͖̠̰͖̪̑̉ͫ̽ͫ͒͌̎ͭ͐̈͑̒ͧ̃̌̆̓̕ͅh̡̰̱̰͍͉͈͕̟̬͖̹̳̖̯̩ͥͫ͂̋̈͑ẽͯͩͤ̉ͧ͑ͯͯ̚҉̸̷̞͚̘̗͕̤̙͉̤͚̙̜͈͓͍͜ͅy̴͌͆ͥ̌̐̆ͭ҉̸̧͎͎̩̯̠͍͎̜͓̘͖̖̤̮̺̫͠  She left the room in the same state she had found it in. The spectre decide to left that situation to develop on its own, seeing as it was going so good.
    Besides Shepard had her own girl to take care of.
     
     
    ***  
     
     
    Several hours later
     Illium, Nos Astra, Research facility oversaw by Dr. Ahum
     
     
    “A fucking porn mag?! You *chew* psychos want us to pose for *chew* a porn mag!?” shouted a fat asari, easily in over 300 pounds range.
    The conversation was held in one of the experimental apartments. Currently, it was used to gauge how long lasted effect of substances that had been used.
    A long time, at least without outside countermeasures.
    Inside were five asari. Four of them were from the original, drug-testing group, formerly associated with Heless Vate. All of them were in various states of undress and, above all obesity.
    Fat bulged in form of bellies, enlarged curves, and widened limbs. Also despite the bravado, the inhabitants barely managed to tear themselves off their main occupation: eating. And even during speaking they frequently took bites of food.
    The fifth asari was different. She was slim and wearing a full, proper business-asari dress, and her expression maintained professional neutrality.
    “A pin-up magazine, yes. Nudity isn’t required nor even planned and your identities will be hidden with some tampering by our experts. Considering your situation and a hefty sum you’ll receive extra after the contract expires, I think my employer is giving you the most gracious offer” explained the bureaucrat, forcing herself for pleasantries. That fat idiot was getting on her nerves.
    Jonuci Masus, because she had seemed to appoint herself a spokesperson for the newly assembled group, put the last piece of candy bar in her chocolate-stained mouth.
     
     
    “*munch*…You bastards drug us and make us eat like fucking bovines for slaughter. Now you want to put in some messed-up pin-up mag, Think again bitch. What stops us from smearing you on the wall? Ugggh” asked former commando and with effort, leaned out to reach another treat. Liara’s employee was quiet for a second before replying in a much less cordial tone.
    “You don’t seem to realize your position, so let me spell it out for you. You are severely overweight, with little practice. Even if you managed to hurt me, this room would be filled with gas and terminated. My employer gives you an opportunity to have provided some financial stability four yourself, instead of sitting on your fat asses. Feeding you all isn’t exactly cheap, how exactly do you intend to keep yourself afloat after we let you go? Also, keep in mind, we could persuade you to attend without any monetary bonus, whatever you want it or not” the asari explained and took a breath.
    “I don’t know what is the point of this and I don’t care. My employer gives you chance to refuse, but I am here to get results and I’m willing to…”
    “I’m in” said the third voice and bleach followed.
    Linulha Novo, the formerly mindlessly voracious asari regained her grim on her actions, although food remained her main focus. Currently, the easily over400 pounds asari was sitting in one of the couches, happily stuffing herself with dried strips of meat. She was wearing only lingerie, with her adipose-ridden body on with full display. Her most eye-catching feature, the large, round, and constantly full stomach rested between her thighs.
    “*buurrrp* it’s not like I got anything better to do and I *munch* always wanted to be a model. Besides It’s not like *much*anybody is going to actually buy it *munch*. Just add extra servings*munch* and we have a deal. Lenithnea, Josanly?”
    It’s worth mentioning that at the sides of the fattest resident were sitting Sasir twins. They were both bigger than Masus, but considerably lighter than their couch-mate. Over the last months, the identical asari and Linulha had grown…close.
    “*munch*…Sure”
    “Whatever…*munch*”
    Despite the pang of disgust, she felt from the sight of three fat, shameless asari, the bureaucrat couldn’t help the smug look appearing on her face. 
    She turned back to her conversationalist, who looked ready to grind her teeth to dust.
    “Perhaps you would like to revaluate your stance?”
     
     
    *** 
     
     
    The meeting with the hypnotized group was… peculiar. They seemed to behave normally, eerily so, but completely obvious to their obsessive gluttony and fact that their bodies had grotesquely swelled with fat.
    There were some threats, but they lacked heat, but most of the former maidens mocked the idea and showed little interest.
    Then the operative acted along with the egghead's suggestions. She slipped a few hints about the onset buffet and extra food privileges. That seemed to work like the best bait, even if her prey was unaware.
     
     
    ***  
    The other groups were similar, although a few actual volunteers had refused. IN this case, she had strict order to not press(threaten) too much.
    Still, it was a success overall. In total, the operative had several dozen asari and human females willing to pose for the magazine. Almost entirety of the selected ones. All of them ranged from slightly overweight(and growing) to ridiculously obese(at least to the recruiting asari’s eyes).
    For what reason her boss would organize something so ridiculous as pin-up magazine with fat humanoids, she had no idea.
    But there were two things she was certain of. One: questioning her boss without anything meaningful to say was idiotic. Two: T’Soni’s even most outrageous projects seemed to bring some sort of gain.
    But what could the information broker gain from this?
     
     
    ***
     
     
    A Few days later
     Normandy SR-2, XO’s office
     
     
    After the mess with project “Overlord”, the Normandy had set course to the Citadel. They had several matters to attend mostly handling their “guests” to “proper” authorizes as well as fell upgrades and repairs to the ship. Nothing drastic, not like on Illium, but they were going to be grounded for few two-three days.
    Now they were a few hours away from their destination and the crew was preparing. Emptying the necessary areas, preparing documentation, hiding AI core.
    Miranda…well…Miranda was trying to button her pants. Not exactly her pants, everything in her wardrobe was far too small for her for some time now, but the pants from the biggest set of female, Cerberus uniform she could find.
    For the last few days the operative rarely left her room, she simply had too much work to be dallying on the ship and didn’t bother with it, often even walking without trousers.
    So imagine her shock when that day Miranda, after quite a bit of effort put her pants up, only to realize the piece of cloth didn’t want to close.
    Oh…she tried, several times and with dedication worth of more noble cause, but it had become painfully apparent that it was pointless. She needed clothes for the trip to the Citadel if only to find some more fitting for herself, not to mentions her various official duties.
    That left one option. The brunette couldn’t borrow wardrobe from, Shepard, save lingerie, the commander curves were ridiculous…how this wall of muscles was so big?... so they should be wide enough, but she knew that they were far too long to look even somewhat presentable on her.
    That left the male wardrobe and only pieces of it on the larger end.
    Miranda knew that was foolish to care about it, but the fact she had to give up on female clutches due to her figure, stung.
    She would have to ask Shepard to bring it for her. The operative had to admit, non-sarcastically, that commander was helpful. The brunette wrote a quick request and glanced at her reflection.
    This time any disgust she felt was drowned under the wave of spiteful satisfaction.
    I hope you get proper reports, father. Look at the effect of the fortune spent on genetic research, look at your legacy
    Her every limb was covered in an undeniable layer of soft adipose. Unlike T’Soni’s, Miranda’s face did little to combat the onslaught of fat, her cheekbones were all, but invisible, cheeks inflated and under it was a clear beginning of second chin. Of course, the bulk of blubber concentrated in her curves. The operative never had thought she would be so happy for Shepard’s own enormous bottom and chest, tanks to it the brunette had something to borrow. The erogenous zones had, barely noticeable under inspection, signs after healed stretchmarks. 
    Her gut was in worse condition, due to the terrible abuse it had been enduring lately, it picked on more mass, but also was covered in reddish, still healing marks. Miranda usually fell into a food coma before smearing the lotion on herself and she had only her extraordinary biology to thanks for the situation not being worse.
    Speaking of her gut…
    The operative massaged the soft surface and instinctively looked down.
    She was hungry. Good
    Of course, the brunette wasn’t able to see her tum, it was obscured by her enormous, softening boobs. She could see veins pulsing under the skin, and small patches of boob-flesh overflowing the bra.
    However, her cravings quickly snapped her out of the trance. Miranda was still getting used to it. Thanks to T’Soni’s drugs, she was constantly hungry. That feeling simply ranged from an almost obsessive desire to devour everything in sight, to a slight compulsion to stuff yourself further despite being on the verge of explosion.
    Her omitool beeped, Shepard wrote that she’s going to bring clothes an hour later, she was busy sparing.
    Miranda felt herself smiling, it was enough time for a snack.
    With relief, she fell on the couch in the bedroom area. The brunette had never before thought that standing for such a short time could be tiring, but now she was learning otherwise.
    With a grunt, she picked a container and a bottle of shake from under the couch. Inside, there were enough MRE’s, to be more than a full meal volume-wise and more than several meals worth calorie-wise.
    With no remorse Miranda began systematically destroy the box’s contents, occasionally sipping on the dense liquid. And in a matter of minutes, she devoured a load of food that several weeks ago would leave her stuffed to the brim.
    Now…well, the brunette could still go for more, despite feeling a considerable load in her stomach.
    She rubbed her engorged middle and reminded herself that under her desk was another box, that one containing some sweets beside usual rations. The obese asari had pocked those as well to vary her meals. Miranda ignore those so far, but now…
    There was one problem, food and her own bulk was weighting the operative down, and during last months she experienced very little physical exercise. To put it simply, even if she would deny it, Miranda had gotten lazy and didn’t want to leave the couch.
    Then the stuffed female heard doors opening, her brow furrowed. She had ordered EDI to not let anyone, not “in-the-know”, in without asking her first. So who…
    “Where are you bitch? Don’t hide, the computer said you’re here” shouted a familiar voice.
    …well she does fit the criteria sighed the brunette mentally, she felt good and didn’t want to deal with the criminal. Then a daring idea came to her, if Jack was here she may as well be useful.
    “I’m sitting here. You would notice if you cared to look before shouting. If you want anything, please hand me the container from under the desk” informed the operative casually. Miranda was simply sitting on the couch in a location obscured by the shower.
    “I’m not your fucking maid, cheerleader!” hissed the convict and began going towards the brunette.
    “I wouldn’t think of this, but I can keep quiet about anything you ask me later the taller woman explained. What followed was series of curses and grumbling, but it would seem that the former prisoner picked up the item.
    “The fuck is…” 
    Jack arrived with the container, frown visible on her face, but the moment she saw the glutted Miranda, she exploded with laughter. 
    “…hahahaaa...so…your…a pig not…haha… a bitch…”
    The operative patiently endured the laughter and various insults.
    “Are you done? The box” interrupted annoyed Miranda.
    The snickering convict handed it to her and the brunette reached for the fattening content.
    “ppffff...you really think you need more food?” asked Jack as she watched the overweight woman bit into a nutrient bar.
    “I believe *munch* that I informed you of my reasons for *munch* my overindulgence. If *munch* you don’t want to watch turn around or * munch* get out” informed the operative between bites.
    The mocking smirk disappeared, Jack seemingly couldn’t decide on the proper expression, finally settling on the furrow.
    “Shut it bitch, I have questions”
    And surprising Miranda the tattooed woman pulled from behind a holopad that had been stepped to the harness, to one of the straps that made up her “outfit”. 
    For the next several minutes the criminal had asked questions, mentioned few things that needed to be clarified as well as other issues. Miranda kept on eating and answering, discussing.
    The entire situation genuinely surprised Miranda. Despite crude language and insults, it was clear that Jack had thoroughly read the data provided by her and T’Soni, what’s more, she sorted them and managed to correctly interpret them.
    It was a far cry from the mindless, albeit dangerous, hooligan the brunette had categorized Jack as.
    There was a brief break in the conversation when Miranda felt a donut next to her lips. Without a thought, she bit into it, although something was wrong.
    When the brunette swallowed the last bite, she realized she hadn’t been the one holding the threat.
    “Pfff…don’t try bullshitting me that it's just part of some cover piggy” said Jack with a smirk.
    Miranda felt blood rushing to her cheeks and a growing spark of fury. But she forced herself to remain calm, to think.
    The taller woman shifted to a more comfortable position, widened space between her legs for now tightly protruding gut, leaned more on the back to relieve her spine of some load. Normally she wouldn’t assume such an undignified position, even before such degenerate as Jack, but…
    “Since you’re so eager to help *munch*, please do continue” Miranda informed, swallowed the bit of MRE, and simply opened her mouth, waiting.
    Jack recoiled, smirk disappearing, turning into confusion and…something(?), but surprisingly not in the disgust. Soon a look of angry determination and bared, clenched teeth overshadowed everything.
    “You’re on, hog” replied the convict and grabbed another treat.
    The following minutes were probably the most bizarre in Miranda’s life, which was saying something.
    Accompanied by various, imaginative profanities Jack was cramming both sweets and MRE’s bars into Miranda’s mouth. It took some time before the convict adjusted pace so the brunette wouldn’t choke, but soon enough the operative was receiving food at a speed that allowed her to bite, chew and swallow. 
    Nothing else was possible. Miranda was barely able to eat and not easy, but the bald woman didn’t care. Save the nature of food it was quite similar to Shepard’s treatment with funnel.
    Not entirely though, Shepard had been indifferent and completely professional during those, while Jack was full of passion, even if fuelled by anger.
    For some reason, this made the operative feel…strange, even if not unpleasant.
    The unreal process was at its end. Miranda’s belly became taunt and round, only a small rift remaining after folds. Oh, it wasn’t her limit, with months of practice and newfound elasticity the brunette could easily pack in more, but the container was empty.
    The only thing remaining was that European(?) donut with filling in Jack’s fingers. The convict crammed it between the brunette’s lips and she dutifully bitted into it.
    However as the treat was being consumed, the chocolate filling was escaping in the opposite direction, on the tattooed fingers.
    It was unclear what was the cause, was Jack too slow or Miranda too fast and too entranced to stop, or perhaps all of this was in work.
    Sufficient to say, that the over operative didn’t stop at the last part of a cake, instantly started to lick the much thinner than her own fingers, sucking a thick layer of chocolate filling and frosting.
    The operative realized what she was doing only once the tattooed hand was all but clean. She recoiled as if the convict’s hand was made from red-hot steel and absent-mindedly swallowed the sweet mass that had been stuffing her cheeks.
    The sight before her was, once again, most surprising. Instead of disgust, typical for her wrath or even surprise, Jack’s face betrayed confusion, and… was that blush on her face?!
    The seconds of following silence seemed like an eternity to both women.
    Suddenly, like a startled animal, Jack stood up.
    “Fuck you, fuck this shit!” yelled the convict, but her voice was strangely breaking, lacking conviction.
    With that, the tattooed woman fled the room. Yes, it couldn’t be a mistake for anything else than escape.
    Miranda was left on the couch with remains of food on the fabric around her, on her face, with distended, fat gut between her legs and wide open, gaping mouth.
    She had been wrong – this was the most bizarre in her life.
     
     
    ***
    Several hours later 
    Captain’s quarters 
    Tali was contemplating her reflection in the bathroom’s big mirror. Anyone, even passingly familiar with a quarian body language would notice her distress.
    To be more exact, the engineer's attention was focused on her lower body. Her hips, bottom, and legs – the places where her new adipose was mostly focused and, noticeable, even when in the suit. While outside of the isolation it was possible to notice an increase in other areas, her lower body was as big, if not bigger, than Miranda’s. Of course, she was lighter, for now, than the operative, but her gain was more focused. And she was gaining on the brunette.
    In short, only the blind wouldn’t notice the fact that Tali was probably the most bootylicious quarian alive. And her species was more gifted in that area than humans or asari.
    Now, instead of helping to prepare for nearing arrival and repairs, the engineer was fussing about how people on the Citadel will react to her figure. Tali herself wasn’t bothered by it any longer, the crew was either accepting or smart enough not to make an issue of it.
    But they were approaching the Citadel, heart of the galactic government, full of scruffy diplomats, businessmen, and other individuals with superiority complex bigger than the station itself. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be a quarian normally, but how all those egocentrics would react? What’s worse how would react a fellow quarian, they were some on the Citadel.
    Tali had long since developed a thick skin to various profanities and accusations, she would deal with them. But it doesn’t mean she wasn’t a bit concerned, especially about the prospect of meeting a pilgrim from the Flotilla.
    “You’re overthinking” informed a voice.
    Tali pose straightened and she looked calmly at the source. Leaning on the doorframe was Elizabeth, wearing her casual outfit and with a small smile. The quarian had, somehow, gotten used to the spectre appearing out of thin air.
    “I know, I know… it’s just…I really don’t want this visit to be ruined by some comments. It's rare meet quarian as big as me” explained the engineer with embarrassment.
    Shepard approached and took her hands.
    “Yes, I have never met a quarian as beautiful as you, prettier than any woman at Citadel. That and I know that you’re smarter than to get angry because of some idiot with a quarter of your brain. You’re skilled, intelligent, if someone will insult based on how you look or your species it’s miracle they lived past infancy. Also, please remember that I’ll be there if you need me” the commander said warmly.
    Her words made Tali blush under the helmed and feel insects in her belly.
    “Worst case, you can sic the butcher of Torfan on anyone who sours your mood or blackmail them through our lovely asari archaeologist” Shepard added with a wicked grin. 
    The quarian freed one hand and playfully smacked the spectre.
    “No murder and no blackmail. You two are bad enough as it is”
    Elizabeth laughed and pulled her lover close, almost enough to bury the purple vision in her ample bosom, stopping barely an inch away from it. Not that Tali would have minded, especially as she felt the long fingers on her hips.
    “Mmmm… since we’re on topic. I cannot help but wonder how much you've grown, wouldn’t you mind checking?” purred Shepard with a sweet smile. 
    Again the quarian felt heat on her face and didn’t realize that she had never informed Elizabeth of this feature in her suit.
    “Hymp… fine, give me a moment” replied the shorter woman and with some regret wrangled herself from the human’s embrace. She started typing on her omnitool, it was a simple and quick affair but took enough time for the spectre to tightly hug her lover from behind.
    “210 pounds” Tali whispered, she knew she had put on weight, it was painfully clear, but to be aware of the exact number…
    “Hmmm… that’s a nice start.” 
    The quarian heard it spoken in a low, rumbling voice right beside her head and could feel vibrations from the large, muscular body pressing to her chubby one. She felt the heat spreading through her body, also in the lower sections, and suddenly remembered the conversation she had few hours prior.
    Thanks to Eristena, Tali had been able to converse with Zoma. While they knew each other only briefly it was still nice and further reassured Shepard’s lover of her kinsman's safety. The duo also spoke about less crucial things, the obese quarian’s perceptivity surprised the engineer. The immobilized woman managed to notice Tali’s own increased figure and interrogate her about her current relationship status. In return, she shared her own experiences and mentioned many experiences she had thanks to her blubbery body.
    Zoma was very descriptive, very graphically so. Now, scenarios she had been talking about flashed through Tali’s mind. She could help but wonder, how it would feel to be with Shepard while being as large as Zoma…
    Then, she looked up and glanced at the mirror. That turned her attention away from vivid scenarios.
    Shepard was sporting that strange, unsettling grin of hers, but the spectre’s reflection seemed blurry(?) and… was that eyes?
    “Eh… as much as I would love to stay we have job to do. But later… I know this restaurant on Citadel, nothing fancy, but I think you’ll like it” Shepard said, in a voice ridiculously unfitting the phantasm Tali had seen in the mirror and reluctantly released her girlfriend.
    “Ah…I would love to” answered the engineer when she snapped out of the daze and a warm feeling returned.
    Still, as Tali watched the tall woman leave, she couldn’t help but wonder about the terrible image in the mirror.
     
     
    ***
    Several hours later
    Citadel
    “Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?” asked the maiden pleasantly enough, but scanned a potential customer with wary eyes. Not surprisingly, she was an employee in one of the high-end stores on Citadel and Miranda had to make do with Cerberus uniform. However, the brunette had no answer for the faint blush that appeared on the asari's face.
    “I have a bit of situation. I need to replenish my wardrobe and resize a few clothes” informed the operative and gestured to a rather large container hovering next to her.
    “Of course, I’ll happily show you what we have to offer, but I’m afraid we adjust only our products and for premium members” answered the saleswoman with a beaming smile.
    Miranda felt anger and embarrassment in her chest. She was somewhat familiar with the asari, the maiden was the one usually attending to her when thebrunttewas in this store. The operative was indeed a premium member and she knew for the fact that the employee had memorized her.
    But that had been over a hundred pounds ago.
    Wordlessly, she flashed omnitool, sending data to the asari’s console. The maiden blinked in surprise and this time fully blushed.
    “M… Miss Lawson, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Is this something normal for humans? I thought that…” rambled the normally very professional asari.
    “No, as it turned out I possess a very rare genetic disorder. Now, Miss Javo, can we please return to the matter at hand?” interrupted the operative sternly.
    The asari managed to compose herself, her expression returned to the pleasant, professional one, but a faint tint of purple remained on her cheeks for some reason.
    “Of course ma’am”
    First, they had taken Miranda’s measurements. There was no trouble with that, although a human woman responsible for this raised eyebrows at them. Then came an attempt at finding new clothes.
    It was when…complications started.
    Miranda was aware of how much she gained as well as the only pieces of lingerie that fit her was Shepard’s, which had been custom made. So she started with the biggest sets available, intending to scale down accordingly.
    That didn’t work as planned.
    Most of the shop’s merchandise simply didn’t fit the brunette. Mostly she wasn’t even able to close the bras or put on panties. Even if Miranda managed this feat, it couldn’t be even called a close fit, as lingerie dug painfully in her adipose-filled flesh. Her breast overflowed bras in a truly ridiculous manner, pants gave her painful wedges, and even then were mostly covered by her meaty butt cheeks.
    Miranda’s temper was rising and the maiden attending her was getting more embarrassed and distressed by a minute.
    Finally, gritting her teeth, the brunette gave up on lingerie and skipped to clothes.
    Results were similar, or even worse, as an attempt to fit in the clothes resulted in a very graphic testament to how much the operative's figure had changed.
    Miranda was seething, furious with the situation, although there were a few contradictory feelings mixed in. The artificial-made woman was furious about the inability to restock her wardrobe, not her overweight body. At the same time, the brunette felt a vengeful satisfaction, she hoped that somebody was updating her father of her current state, she hoped he saw her fat, swollen body.
    “Miss Lawson?” asked the asari carefully.
    “Yes?”
    The maiden winced at the falsely pleasant tone of the human female but continued.
    “I’m afraid that we don’t have anything else and resizing will be finished tomorrow, not today. We…we simply don’t have enough fabric” explained the maiden, almost visibly shrinking under Miranda’s gaze.
    The operative felt herself shaking, but forced herself to close her eyes and inhale a square meter of air.
    “I see”
    “But…well, a several meters from here is another store of our brand, however, it specializes in maternal outfits…” advised the saleswoman, very quietly.
    Miranda simply stared for several seconds, before exhaling, her expression relaxed.
    “Thank you for the information, I’ll check it. My ship sets out in three days, I expect my clothes to be done by then, please send me the notification” the brunette answered and began walking out the store.
    She didn’t see that the maiden was very closely observing her wobbling butt with bitten lip and blush.
    ***
    Three hours later
    The Normandy SR-2, The third deck,
    The elevator opened, revealing an unusual image.
    The snickering Jack was leaning on equally cheerful Miranda, the convict’s nose nearly in the large cleavage. The operative wasn't faring much, better on her face was a visible smile unfitting her typical stern image and she supported herself a bit on Shepard. On the other, the blood-haired woman seemed perfectly sober only a bit annoyed, only tendency to slip into her native language being a sign of consumed alcohol. Finally, there was Kasumi, who was dangling like a sack of potatoes over, the spectre's shoulder. The thief murmured something, every then and now exploding into a fit of giggles.
    But what resulted in this?
    It’s simple, really.
    Miranda had visited the shop advertised by the asari maiden and had been returning to the ship with the supply of material, albeit high-quality and fashionable, clothes.
    Still, she was in a rather foul mood, the operative was hungry, ravenous really, her joints ached with weak, but constant dull pain caused by extra pounds. Then, she had been ambushed by Kasumi. The thief invited her for a “girl-time”. Obviously, the brunette was firmly against it, but a mix of nagging and blackmail convinced her to go if only to have the thief stop talking.
    The operative was led to the establishment of a much lower category than she would have ventured out of her own volition, but it was surprisingly tidy.
    Inside, the operative easily noticed Shepard(it was hard not to) and when she took a closer look, she noticed yeoman Chambers and unfortunately Jack.
    Obviously, the convict had started with insults and Miranda had been already in a poor mood so a scuffle almost broke out. The spectre had diffused situation with few “calming” words and stern gaze, accompanied by the fellow ginger's much more positive commentary.
    The beginning of the “party” was tense. Shepard wanted to unwind when none of her lovers was available. Jack wanted to get smashed and have some fun(of whatever variety she could find). Kasumi wanted to fish for some juicy tidbits and have some laughs. Miranda wanted to be back on the Normandy take shower and most importantly eat something, Kelly…well she wanted many things.
    However, most ladies had made a critical error. They had let Elizabeth chose liquor and set the pace. When it comes to stronger alcohols, the human spectre accepted only vodka or even stronger, homemade beverages.
    Miranda and Jack are biotics and no strangers to various alcohols, but while it’s a miraculous hangover cure, the ability didn’t prevent them from getting **.
    Kelly was surprisingly resilient for her petite frame, Kasumi a bit less so.
    Shepard…well, later when the second, 2-liter bottle of vodka had shown bottom, the tall woman was still infuriatingly sober and had tenderly reminiscence her family moonshine recipe.
    Meanwhile, the thief had been fighting bravely but seemed to be loseing connection with reality momentarily. Surprisingly, both Jack and Miranda had been happy drunks. Still, mostly coherent, but their insults turned playful, joking, even if normally they would be at each other’s throats at this point. Kelly had sneaked out with some female turian, a bottle earlier.
    With resignation, Shepard had stood up and a minute later returned with two bottles and normal glass. One had been identical to previous ones, second was smaller and had ryncol inside. The commander wasn’t a fan of this drink, it had disgusting texture and taste, but had been determined to get at least tipsy.
    She poured vodka into her companions’ shot glasses and mix of it and ryncol to hers.
    When both bottles were empty, Shepard had been experiencing a faint hum that soothed the pain of lonesome existence and decided that it had been a job well done.
    At the same time, the convict and operative had been engaged in a game of ”who-had-shittier-childhood” and some weird, passive-aggressive flirting. Kasumi was lying on the table, ready to transcendent to another state of enlightenment.
    Of course, they had to make their way back to the ship, which culminated in the elevator scene. The good( debatable in the spectre case) thing was that the walk allowed them to sober up a bit, save Kasumi.
    “I’m going to put our master thief in her bed. You two, wait or can you make it on your own?” Elizabeth asked the duo.
    “I’m… perfectly capable…”
    “We ain’t some like-weights like the hoody…*hic*”
    “…yes”
    The spectre nodded and made her way to the thief’s abode. The bizarre pair started to carefully stumble to Miranda’s office. Once inside they both fell on the bed with relief and a giggle that was very contradictory to their normal personas.
    It was that moment, that hunger pierced through to Miranda’s alcohol-clouded mind, snacks back at the bar had been a drop in the bucked of what her stomach needed.
    Then she realized that somebody grabbed her butt cheeks.
    “Fuck, you got one fat ass” murmured Jack and squeezed. The operative responded with neither moan nor giggle.
    “Mmm… better than yours. If you’re bored grab me something to eat, first” said the brunette and lazily gestured to the container with the afternoon meal.
    The tattooed woman grimace, but swaying she brought food. Meanwhile, with effort Miranda managed to, roll over on her back.
    “Shiiitt, you’re sure you aren’t a cow, those tits look ready to be milked”
    The operative snapped the tattooed hand that reached for her boob, which almost resulted in Jack falling on her.
    “Food, now. Cultivating a perfect body requires a proper nu...nut...nutr… food. And do this properly this time” informed Miranda.
    “Pft, like you need more lard” snorted the convict and loudly clapped the brunette’s fat gut.
    The operative merely opened her mouth, she was hungry.
    It was a repeat of the situation from the days ago, only with more drunken clumsiness and cheer.
    Much more cheer.
    For some reason botch females were getting hotter and it wasn’t just alcohol at work.
    “Fuck, you’re getting off of this” Jack vocalized her observation, when Miranda had let out less than… appropriate sound after eating a pastry.
    It was a good thing she had already swallowed.
    “Wh…What? Have you finally lost your mind?!” sputtered the operative and tried to get up, but a donut, forcefully shoved between her lips, brought her down.
    “You hate daddy so much? Or do you just like being fattened like a pig, cheerleader? Who’s degenerate now, bitch?” sneered the criminal with glee.
    The brunette managed to chow down the treat in record time, anger piercing through the alcohol-fuelled cheer.
    “It takes one to know another or you groping and ogling my tits is just an accident?” hissed Miranda in low voice and looked into Jack’s face.
    The tattooed woman’s expression went through several different emotions in the spawn of few seconds, finally second on determination, accompanied by a smirk.
    “You know what cheerleader? Fuck this”
    Two things happened almost at once, another treat was forced into the brunette’s mouth. Meanwhile, Jack’s hand moved from the lower portion of Miranda’s upper thigh, place it had been happily occupying for several last minutes, to under the brunette’s trouser and between two enlarged legs.
    “MMMmmmm!” moaned Miranda through a stuffed mouth.
    “You like that, don’t you?! You like being fed and fucked like a pig! Why don’t you squeal for…!”
    The grinning woman’s rant was interrupted when the brunette pulled on one of the straps that make up the convict's outfit. Two women were facing each other.
    The operative, swallowed food, nearly ** in the process.
    “You can either shut the fuck up and get going for real or get out of my room” gaped Miranda breathlessly
    Jack grinned again, one hand was reaching for another dounut, the second was clumsily ripping the newly bought clutches.
    It was going to be a fun night.
     
     
     ***
    Around the same time
    Hagalaz’s atmosphere, The Shadow Broker’s ship
    Liara with tired satisfaction sat on her bed. The work as the Shadow Broker and preparing for Reapers was mentally demanding as well as draining. But the effects, even if some were appearing minuscule, were reassuring. The obese asari was pleased about it.
    “Will that be all, Miss T’Soni?” politely asked an artificially generated voice.
    It was yet another success in the doctor’s book. After months of painstaking, careful reprogramming she had managed to turn the previous Broker’s obnoxious VI into something truly great, she was sure even Tali would be impressed. The broker had given it designation: Glymph.
    “Yes, please have the package from Illium brought her I want to test it” replied asari.
    “Of course. Ma’am” and with that blue sphere flew off.
    Liara smiled, it was good to have a…
    *GGGGGRRRRROOOOOWWWWWLLLLL*
    A deep, guttural growl rippled through the air like the hungry roar of an ancient beast.
    Well, it wasn’t exactly incorrect, save for the “ancient” part.
    The doctor with a blush on her face rubbed her gargantuan gut, normally she would have bent to its every demand, but the asari wanted to try something. It was hard to hold herself down, Liara was a growing matron after all.
    Indeed, the information broker was happily gorging herself and growing, every part of her body swelling like dough. Her belly kept widening, creeping on her knees, every day farther. And the gluttonous sphere was hardly an exception, by the void even the asari’s blue toes were bigger.
    A few days ago, the doctor realized with arousal, just in how different directions her arms had been pointing when she had pressed them to her meaty body. That wasn’t the only sign of her gluttony, Liara could still put on the shoes, but the task was so troublesome, that she left completely to one of many bots, the ex-archaeologist was using. Same with the rest of the clothes and certain, manual activities. Although all things considered, the automated assistance had been, so far, caused by laziness and convenience, but it appeared that in not so distant future they would be necessary as the asari grew.
    It’s quite astounding what a few pounds on an already large body can body noted Liara, surprisingly ignorant of the truth. 
    Surprising, even for herself, was how at peace with her slowly decreasing mobility, or perhaps the doctor was too pleased with her adipose-filed body to truly care.
    With some effort, she managed to snuggle down in the middle of the bed, where the asari had prepared herself a spot with many pillows that nicely compensated her changing proportions. Then, the young matron grabbed a nearly holopad and began reviewing less crucial projects.
    Mmm… Dr. Ahum and his team are doing a good job. Also, they have everything prepared and are going to start shooting soon. There’s no telling about the results, but that’s barely a drop in the budget, and if our observations are any indication… mused Liara.
    “Ma’am” a synthetic voice interrupted her line of thoughts. Glymph returned and controlled by him robot brought in the package from Illium.
    The item was a slightly modified machine that had been used to “help” patients bulk up mass, in Dr. Ahum’s facility. Most recently it had been used on Elona Loni and Heless Vate.
    Why Liara would want such a device delivered? Simple, beyond purely physical, and increasingly demanding(the routine itself remained the same), exercises to avoid muscle entropy, Liara was taking up more biotic training. Most of this would be too hard for asari of her age, but the young matron had supplies of eezo and fuel far surpassing any other member of her age group and most matriarchs.
    At the same time, even if the information broker’s species was the most “energy-efficient” when it came to biotics, it didn’t change the fact that new activity burned through many calories.
    Keeping that in mind as well as her goal of gaining 50 pounds, Liara had ordered the machine. It was all purely for practical reasons and she didn’t intend to use it often if at all. It wasn’t as if the doctor was curious, not at all.
    Soon, the robot set everything up.
    “Thank you, Glymph. Please leave the remote near me, just in case. That will be all for today, you can return to your duties after finishing” informed Liara.
    “Of course, Miss T’Soni”
    The mech, thankfully it was a delicate, medical model, began inserting a funnel into Liara’s throat. The experience was a bit unpleasant, but not terribly so.
    Almost immediately, the cream began flowing, the VI flew off and the doctor returned to the lecture.
    While this mode of consumption was without the typical pleasure, a taste of food and physical act, however, the young matron knew that the paste, while more calorie-rich than any edible substance, had a taste that left much to be desired.
    Minutes passed. At first, nothing happened, the substance was flowing calmly and the ex-researcher’s stomach needed quite a lot to even feel sated.
    Of course, a considerable time later, this moment arrived, but the machine didn’t stop there. The paste kept being forced down Liara’s throat and her stomach grew.
    The heavy asari ceased reading and focused on expanding mass, she tenderly rubbed its tender, pulsating with heat surface. Before this “meal”, she had consumed a lot of strong digestives, stretchers, and special, local anesthetic, so the doctor could pack away even more food.
    Her spherical gut stretched, but the layer of blubber was too thick so it remained soft. Two chubby hands were rubbing the distending belly, the fullness inside growing to the aching, almost painful levels.
    But Liara didn’t mind, instead, her soft face began getting purple with blush.
    By the Goddess, she couldn’t help but imagine Elizabeth being there with her, Tali too would be welcome. To have them witness the testament to her gluttony, her dedication, and her fertile body. To have them plant a litter of beautiful daughters into her bountiful, fat flesh as they worshipped it.
    The ex-archaeologist had heard tales of her species's lust, but she had chalked them up as rumors, caused by incomplete information.
    But now? The doctor wasn’t so sure.
    Now, with her lard-laden belly ridiculously swollen and painful, one hand remained on it while the second went to her equally enormous breast and nipple. Liara didn’t even try to reach between her tree-trunk-like legs, besides the sensitivity of that area for asari was minuscule compared to other species.
    The pain grew and so the obese matron’s arousal, her imagination was running wild. She founded the monstrous, agony-filled, mass that pined her to the cracking bed and her chest. Liara’s heart was pounding furiously, managing to easily supply an enormous body only thanks to eons of evolution. The furious moans were barely muffed by the hose in the mouth and any movement was prevented by the very flesh that put in her state, but that only added to the doctor's excitement.
    Ultimately, when her throbbing, beaded with sweat stomach felt ready to crack, when wrangling in ecstasy the young asari managed to make her obese body sway by millimeters… Liara reached her end.
    SSSSsssssheeeparrrd!!!!.....
    The mountain of asari went limp, her hands falling to the sides and eyes rolling back. The ex-archaeologist almost immediately drifted asleep, tired by the day’s events, and only her soft, distended middle was facing highly upwards in the mockery of common sense.
    Soon, soundless the medbot arrived and gently removed the funnel from Liara’s lips.
    Then, it left the counted asari alone to digest and grow…GROW.
     
  8. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Batman76 in The Sorceress' Stress Snacking   
    Why thank you, that's a compliment. There's an almost weight gain storyline with Yennefer in the books, she even rips a seam in her dress at one point!, so it means a lot.
     
    Accurate world building can be sexy fan service...
     

    Chapter 4: Dark Under-Belly
     
    Upon awakening in the middle of the night, Yennefer was greeted with a pounding headache and the sound of someone running a water-wheel powered saw.
     
    “Urghhhh, what, oh why did I drink that much,” Yennefer gasped, mouth feeling like a trash heap and stomach sore to the touch as she awoke to the mother of all hangovers.
     
    Dainty hands pressed to her temples, her purple eyes blinking in the darkness. She was cold to the touch, realizing she’d slept bare instead of in her normal nightgown and lingerie. She made an attempt to fumble for a blanket, only to find herself stuck fast.
     
    “Ughhhhh,” came the murmur of a familiar voice at the motion, making Yennefer’s eyes widen in the dark.
     
    A snap of a finger and a bedside candle flashed to life, revealing a room in a state of some disarray. Blankets were knocked to the ground, several wine bottles littered the carpet and most importantly, Yennefer was on her side, spooning her best friend Triss, her hips pressed to the redhead’s softened hips.
     
    “No, oh oh no this was a bad idea,” the hungover enchantress muttered quietly, looking down at the somewhat reduced, but still pregnant looking food bloat she’d munched her way into, bigger than she’d ever imagined, “oh what did I do...how did I eat that much...and did I…”
     
    A small healing spell healed her headache, leaving other telltale sensations to her earlier activities. An ass that throbbed from a vigorous lashing. Pink nipples turned cherry red from being sucked too hard. And a vagina pleasantly, happily sore from a very long fucking.  Worse, she was wearing her own strap on, black leather several notches from its usual position, and while one arc of the double phallus was obviously inside her still, the other (hidden beneath the stuffed dome of her belly) could only be in one place, inside her best friend.
     
    She’d had sex with Triss. And had had sex with her for a long, long time given the spanking marks on Yenn’s ass suggested she’d been serviced first. So long that they’d passed out in bed together, magical phallus still in them...
     
    “Oh no, we fucked,” she winced, the drunken revels barely appearing to her memory.
     
    There was no better way to end a friendship that adding in sex. And she truly valued Triss’ friendship, despite all of the Geralt caused issues. The damn sweet, stubborn girl would surely fall head over heels in love with her and then that would complicate this search for Ciri and her own feelings on Geralt and it would be best to just slink away, hide the strap in her luggage and pretend it never happened...and maybe go on a ten mile walk to work off some of this feast she’d shoved into herself…
     
    A loud hummmmmmmmmmmmmmm prevented any such plan from happening, Yennefer’s movements having reactivated the magical strap on. The vibration travelled up from Yennefer’s sore, exhausted puss into her widening thighs and soft lower belly, an unmistakable jiggling son followed by a blush of pleasure and a faint moan. She saw the same jiggling go up Triss’ squishy back, the vibrator making sure Triss stirred awake.
     
    “Mmmmmm, did I leave that in again?” Triss muttered, hand going to between her legs and tugging the strap on, which only pulled Yennefer into her back, ‘Wait, what...Yennefer? Did I...did we…ohhhh….did we have...unnnn...sex?”
     
    “I think unnnn I think we are right ohgods right now,” Yennefer told her, face going red as her partner’s hair.
     
                            ….
     
    Yennefer had had a lot of awkward breakfasts after nights of unplanned sex in her life but this might top it.
     
    “So...how do we want to handle this,” Yennefer began, taking a long sip of expensive zerrikanian cocoa, “because...well we’re going to have to handle this…”
     
    “Handle?’ Triss asked in surprise, looking up from a plate of bacon and eggs and biscuits across the table, “we need to handle this now?”
     
    Yennefer looked up from the table, where she was fairly certain she’d orgasmed on last night at one point, to Triss. After a moment she looked up past the heavy, heaving bosom hanging from Triss’ taut night gown to the redhead’s green eyes.
     
    “Well, I...er,” Yennefer began, shoving a few strips of bacon into her own mouth to cover the awkward pause, “you see…”
     
    The raven haired woman had a reputation for ruthlessness. She’d killed hundreds in her time without regret, had after an argument with Geralt cheated on him without remorse and would have killed thousands to help her daughter...but the truth was, with people she really cared about, she was a softy.
     
    “Yen, are you...ashamed to have had sex?” Triss asked, a slight bit of hurt in her voice.
     
    “Ashamed? No, not at all I, it’s just…,” Yenn stammered, shoving a gravy soaked biscuit into her mouth, “I’m...you were amazing, I can still barely sit down from that *chomp* whipping, it’s just...I ...was this a one off thing? Are we *gulp* together now? Because there could be professional complications if well, our entire careers hadn’t been upended by the war...and *munch* we’ll have to explain it sooner or later...and what, do we want to add Geralt to *urp* this? And do you, well without booze, am I still attractive? I know I’ve put on so much weight *crunch* am I losing my looks? Triss? Oh gods, I am, I’ve turned into a big...ball of ugly goo haven’t I?”
     
    Triss had barely heard the brunette’s words, staring instead at the speed Yennefer had cleaned her plate of breakfast food. Both the motion of the fork and the rapid bouncing all that chewing and swallowing caused on Yennefer’s chest. The now quite busty brunette was about to pop her black teddy, ivory cleavage vibrating with every moment. It took a moment for Triss to look past the bulbous breasts, which she was slightly jealous of given their perk, to Yennefer’s concerned face.
     
    “I’m sorry Yen, but if I thought my cervix could take the beating I’d say we spend the next three days pounding each other into submission,” Triss said honestly, “but I’m going to need at least a day of rest before I do anything beyond some light head this afternoon...if you’re okay with that.”
     
    “I...I’m okay with that, of course…*munch* if you are,” Yennefer admitted, pulling a cookie out from her omnipresent box and eating it, smiling shyly, “I realize that I’m not exactly acting myself right now, but this condition has thrown me for a loop I *munch* can’t focus and with Ciri to worry about too, I’m driving myself half mad….”
     
    “Don’t worry about Ciri,” Triss reassured her, “it may take a few days, but the Big 4 know everything that happens in this city. They’ll have our information in three days and we’ll know exactly where Ciri is.”
     
    Yennefer took a deep breath, her skin tight lingerie groaning audibly even across the table, “You’re right. I’ve got to keep focused. So where are we meeting them at? Here? Some manor house or tavern?”
     
    Triss looked a bit nervous, biting her plump lower lip with her white teeth, “Well, about that…”
     
                    …..
    “I can’t believe we have to be naked for this,” Yennefer muttered, sucking in her stomach to fasten a towel around her thickened waistline.
     
    “I told you we had to be naked for this,” Triss told her, trying to get her floppy chest inside the towel, “and I kept telling you that whenever I saw you eating and when I asked if you wanted to exercise with me...”
     
    “Yes well, I've got an eating issue, okay?” Yennefer suggested harshly, taking a deep breath before opening the changing room door and walking into the bathhouse proper.
     
    Novigrad’s mighty, illustrious bath house was a huge building, mostly underground and magnificent. Marble floors and columns stretched on across the huge main room, statues of various fertility goddesses separating the semi-private bathing chambers. Magical pumps kept the water hot and clean, despite the anti-sorceress pogrom in the city. Here, securely in the grip of the city’s powerful gang lords, the religious mania was forgotten.
     
    Men and women frollicked and mingled without regards to sex or propriety. Most of the women were naked, displaying young and lean bodies at the height of their beauty. Slight embarrassment tinged both sorceress’ cheeks to realize they were among the chunkiest women in the room, Yennefer indeed pausing to glance at the taut abs of a very fit woman just getting into a tub, putting a hand to her own pudgy stomach in comparison. Triss, noticing the discomfort, paused to lean down to the short woman’s slightly pointed ear:
     
    “You used to look like that...and you look so much better fat,” Triss responded, with a loud slap to Yen’s girthy rump.
     
    The brunette sorceress stared out in absolute rage at her friend and lover, who walked right past her into the rest of the bathhouse. Grumbling, Yennefer set off after her...only to find she was having trouble keeping up the pace. Triss was a lot taller than her and had always been more athletic, even after going to seed. The ginger had been exercising every day since they’d reunited, swimming and even lifting weights. Not enough to really lose any weight, not when she was eating so much still, but she clearly felt better...and was far fitter than Yennefer.
     
    “H-hey, hold on!” Yennefer yelped, picking up the pace and holding up her towel.
     
    Safe and secure in the palatial estate, Yennefer had indulged to her fullest. Filled with worry over the fate of her adopted daughter and wrapped up in a heady new affair, her body had been on auto pilot. So she’d done what she’d always done when worried...and eaten. The only time her mouth hadn’t been full of food was when it had been full of Triss and the only exercise she’d gotten was during sex, which usually involved food too. 
     
    As a result, more than a dozen pounds of pure fat had piled themselves onto Yennefer’s already chubby body at an unbelievable rate. Her face jiggled as she walked, rounded cheeks and full second chin destroying any remnants of her regal beauty. Heavy breasts, skin shiny with growth threatened to pop out of her towel with each step and were just starting to lower a hair. Any vestige of her waistline was destroyed, love handles lardy and belly bulging even before the massive bloat of breakfast was taken into account. Enough fat had layered onto her girlish hips that they unwillingly sashayed as she walked, wobbling side to side so her shelf deep ass threatened everything at waist height, knocking into no small amount of people. Svelte legs now touched halfway down the thigh, thick and lardy and chafing as she waddled along…
     
    As she waddled along.
     
    “I’m waddling...my Gods, I’m fucking waddling,” the furious sorceress thought to herself, the indignity of being so fat her walking was impeded making her both furious...and a little turned on.
     
    Her fuck session with Triss had woken something up inside Yennefer’s brain. Something that desired growth and consumption. Something that demanded the living work of art that was her past body be completely destroyed, buried under a tidal wave of fat. For all the gaping at her slender beauty to turn into disgust at her globular bulk, to be so immense that she struggled to walk….
     
    Something, the Sorceress was realizing as she waddled up to Triss, that was a real bitch and a half to control. Especially when it turned out Triss had a fat fetish and really enjoyed feeding Yennefer to the brim every night...and that Yennefer, to her own horror, liked it too. 
     
    Rushing as fast as she could while maintaining some dignity, the near obese sorceress waddled after Triss. The taller woman opened the wicker door to a private bathing chamber, one immensely opulent, with cheeses and wine laid out for snacks. Yenn waddled in, closing the door behind her with a grunt, wicker smacking her immense cheeks. With horror, she realized that her towel had fallen half off during her walk, mooning the entire establishment with her chunky buns.
     
    “Siggy, thank you so much for seeing us so quickly,” Triss was saying at  the private marble tub, putting aside her towel, “I believe you know my associate.”
     
    The other sorceress of course looked plump and chunky. Thick thighs, a soft tummy and breasts so big they’d started to sag. But compared to Yennefer, the marginally fitter Triss was her old self. 
     
    “Gods, don’t *whew* rush off like that,” Yennefer muttered, sweating already from the exertion and the heat of the bath chamber.
     
    “Of course, although I can’t help but she’s changed a bit in the last few years,” a harsh voice said.
     
    Yennefer looked up and glared, noticing an immense shape in the water. A tall and heavily built man, glaciers of fat over a mountain of muscle, bald as an egg and with the metaphorical face of a boar. That of a leg breaker or a barbarian raider...save for unusually intelligent eyes.
     
    “Dijkstra,” Yennefer growled, recognizing the former head of Redania’s spy network, one of her previous employers and someone she didn’t want to see at any point, much less while fifty pounds overweight, turning to Triss, “this is the big four?”
     
    “This is the main gang leader who’s trying to help us, yes,” Triss reminded her, “to help us find Ciri.”
     
    “Perhaps you could call me the biggest of the big four. As for you, Yennefer, you look like you’re doing well,” Dijkstra grinned, “Prospering even in these uncertain times. Come in, the water is great. Perhaps have a snack.”
     
    “I’m full,” Yennefer lied, her always hungry belly grumbling at the sight of cheese and wine.
     
    Glaring, Yennefer dropped her own towel and joined Triss. The taller enchantress stepped nimbly into the tub, her long legs and exercise helping her. Meanwhile, Yennefer  had to stand on tip toe to get into the water, her short legs and low flexibility fouling her entrance. Her gut pressed into the rim of the tub, rolls forming as she essentially slid in and facing her immense ass, with Triss’ red hand print still upon it, towards the ex-spy master. She sat down next to her friend and lover in the bubbling hot water, glaring still. 
     
    “Why are you here Dijkstra? I would have thought King Radovid would have held onto all the secrets you knew,” the brunette sorceress asked haughtily.
     
    “Well, lets just say that I disagreed with the King about a lot of things. Like say, trying to kill all the sorceresses. I’ve been rather fond of sorceresses before, its damned insane to kill off your best doctors and researchers. If we win the war, then the North’s culture is still destroyed. That’s if we win, far from a sure thing if we burn all of our artillery pieces while we’re at war with Nilfgaard,” the immense man shrugged, “which I’ve heard you’re serving.”
     
    The gigantic man had, despite his boorish looks, been briefly involved with Philippa Eilheart, Triss and Yennefer’s former teacher and a noted beauty despite being 300 years old. What the usually girl loving Phillipa had seen in him, neither knew, save for the giant’s unusual wit.
     
    Yennefer kept glaring, “I’m serving Ciri, no matter what Nilfgaard believes. I’m here to find her and help her, I don’t care about much else, but I’ll do almost anything for her. Triss said you have information on her?”
     
    “Perhaps, there was a brief...incident in the city several weeks ago. A robbery of some of my personal goods, followed by a massive street brawl that saw dozens of men killed,” the immense Dijkstra grunted, “one silver haired woman was seen, using both magic and a sword to kill at least a dozen men.”
     
    Both Triss and Yennefer leaned forwards, interest growing as this could only be Ciri. Under the water, the tall red head squeezed the short brunette’s hand.
     
    “And did anyone see where she went? Did she leave any word?” Triss asked.
     
    “Well, that’s the thing. It turned out that one of the Big four was involved, a viscous bastard named whore son. And he had an alliance with the witch hunters, who took a major prisoner at the ruckus. Someone that they carted off to the Cathedral of the Eternal Fire and locked up in a tiny cell, one lined with Dimeretium and guarded by an army,” the massive man explained, “a place not even a sorceress could get in and out of.”
     
    Yennefer rubbed her chin, annoyed at how soft it felt, “Well then...we’re going to have to get her out.”
     
    It was Dijkstra’s turn to glare, “did you listen to me? There’s dozens of templars there, scores of witch hunters! And waves of Whore Sons lunatic hitmen!”
     
    “So I’ll have to kill a bunch of mage burning assholes. The day must end with Y,” Yennefer shrugged, pert bosom popping out of the water briefly, “I may have gotten fat, but that doesn’t mean my magic has stopped working.”
     
    Further discussion was stopped by the distant main doors being smashed open. Scraggly, heavily tattooed men with rusty swords and axes rushed in, whooping and yelling in the midst of a drug trip. They ignored the crowd of bare bathers, who rushed shrieking into the streets, letting them pass and moving with cruel intent towards the private tub, visible through the steamy glass window. Dijkstra snarled, standing up like a mountain rising from the sea and grabbing an immense battle axe from behind the tub.
     
    “Whore Son Jr’s army, speak of the devil. My fucking body guard is getting a new hole in his head for fucking up security. You two, there’s a secret passage under this tub, I’ll hold them until it drains,” Dijkstra told them, “it’ll lead into the sewers, you’ll have to save yourselves from there.
     
    Both sorceresses looked at each other, trying not to see the immense, flopping length of the spy master’s penis as he stood up. When he’d gotten out of the tub, both let out a sigh of relief and gave though to how Phillipa, slender and petite, had taken that. Yennefer grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, popping the cork with telekinesis and making the liquid shoot up, divide into two streams and fill her and Triss’ glasses.
     
    “Into the sewers? I wouldn’t go into sewers with shoes on, not if the whole Nilfgardian Army Group Center was on my heels. Much less barefoot and naked,” Yennefer sniffed, taking a sip of wine, “damn, 1102. A good year.”
     
    The bare spy master looked away from the assassins towards the unperturbed women, “Are you two mad? Run!”
     
    “Run? I’m not in condition to run,” Yennefer said angrily, “besides. Didn’t you listen to me? I said I’d do anything to help Ciri. I meant it, for her I’d kill the Gods themselves, some gang members aren’t even a bump in the road.”
     
    Both brunette and redhead snorted, Yennefer standing up in the tub, a plump sex goddess emerging from the sea, just as the first assassin kicked open the door. He had a moment to marvel at the over fed, plushly round sight: one of the most beautiful women in the world with an extra fifty pounds of succulent pudge, gleaming wet and stark naked. Yen’s belly touched the brim of the tub and a few bubbles still gleamed on her breasts before the sorceress finished her drink and spoke.
     
    “Glavella Glam,’ Yennefer hissed, a cloud of purple energy shooting from her mouth and flooding into the water.
     
    Eighty gallons of hot water surged out of the tub, turned into a living thing bound to Yennefer’s will. Like a massive snake, it slammed into the first ranks of gang members, knocking them to the ground and flooding into their lungs. The now terrified men clawed at their throats until their lungs filled, the rest of the water flooding on and grabbing each of the other men. Yennefer squeezed her hand, the water in their lungs freezing instantly to ice, icicles bulging from their noses.
     
    “You haven’t lost a step, Yenn,” Triss suggested, sipping wine and eating a slice of cheese.
     
    “How could anyone think I have?” the pudgy brunette agreed, sitting back down and turning the hot water faucet back on, now visible belly forming some rolls as it touched her chunky thighs, “So, I’m going to overthrow the Church of the Eternal Fire. Fancy on joining me?”
     
    “Hmmm, let me think on it. My social calendar is a bit busy but I think I can get a hold of the handful of combat capable mages I’ve got stashed around the city,” Triss nodded, double chin showing as she did, “My spanking arm needs a break anyway.”
     
    Dijkstra shook his head, looking away from the piles of dead gang members, “Well, you two may be stark raving mad as well as overfed...but why not, you’ve got my support.”
  9. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Timthemajor in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    Maybe we will see tali force feeding a horny liara? That would be awesome
  10. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Paunchybellyman in Weight Gain Story Lines (TV & Movies)   
    I found those videos by chance on Youtube, of course they're not celebs, but I think it's worth watching.
    Hot and Heavy videos below:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIA3DTZAehk
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-_7lVWJ-zM
     
    This Women Weighs OVER 620 POUNDS! | America's Fattest City | Curious
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toFrlaOWbDM
     
     
  11. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Batman76 in Chronicles of Weight Gain   
    Alright, a new story. Here's the first half of a haughty wood elf becoming addicted to human food...

    The Price of Excess…
     
    Overthrowing the old, corrupt monarchy had not been the end of Weit-Gainberg’s problems.
     
    An end to the cruel King’s food taxes had allowed prosperity to flow, but with that prosperity came a rising demand for food. Not just bread and butter either, but luxurious meals of all kinds: cakes and pies, icing and fruit, sugar and cream, every possible sweet and meat that the newly enriched, once skeletal masses could get their hands upon. While once only the upper classes had had to worry about the post-debutante spread, soon even girl’s of the lower classes were finding their figures going to seed upon reaching adulthood. 
     
    And the Consulship, needing more and more food for its population, had turned an eye towards the seemingly infinite forests bordering the city, to the anger of the woodlands’ true masters...
     
    …..
     
    In one of Weit-Gainberg’s noble spires, a massive party was underway to celebrate the departure of a city regiment into the woodlands, there to secure the city’s culinary future.
     
    Young soldiers danced with debutantes, slender and svelte girls who were eager to throw off any restriction be it dietary or sexual. While many a maiden head was lost and many a dessert guzzled down without a care for impending weight gain, one young woman paid far more attention to the grumblings of the obese senior officers, barely mobile middle age women in the inner circle of the First Consul, who were talking of the war itself.
     
    “Elves are little more than stone age savages, have never even seen metal,” one stout bellied woman claimed, her guffaw setting her chins to wobbling and the seams of her colonel’s uniform groaning.
     
    “An easy fight I say, send in the *munch* light cavalry to charge in and it’ll be over by winter,” an obese blob of a brunette said through a tart, “that’s what we did when I was a girl! This current generation is so soft!”
     
    “Perhaps, but the elves have powerful magic and the sorceress’ guild refuses to muster against them. They’ve got some problem or something that’s making them all refuse to leave their towers. It’s what we get for depending on them instead of raw strength!” another ex-soldier stated, flexing a long vanished bicep and only succeeding in making her bingo-wing flap, “But we’ll crush them all soon, without their little faerie tricks! We’re marching ten thousand men down the north road at dawn, once we resupply at Fort Tico…”
     
    Walking through the party, Faunalyn could barely suppress a giggle. She put a tan hand to her plump lips, making herself cough as she over heard the pompous boasts of the obese military hiearchy of the human kingdom. On the face of it, the claims of these middle age officers, long trapped behind desks by rank and their own wobbling fat, were ridiculous. But this human town was ridiculous in its clinging to cold stone and disgusting luxury foods, none of the human women would see a thing wrong in these claims so she had to stay quiet and keep her cover.
     
    “If there were not so many of them, then we could use them as clowns,” the fae druid reminded herself, following the flow of the party and keeping out an ear.
     
    A powerful magical disguise covered Faunalyn’s long pointed ears and the pale dapples on her skin, making her seem a well dressed and fit noble girl. And what a girl! She’d stolen a green dress, flashing with sequins that clung tight her frame. Two centuries of nomadic life in the woods, surviving off only hunting and gathering, had made the Elf’s muscles hard and burned off any excess fat save her breasts. It wasn’t that Faunalyn was masculine, she was quite busty and had very broad hips like all of her race, but was chiseled from her neck to her calves, every curve sinewy and tough. The perfection of her near eternal elven youth made sure her tan skin was creamy soft and her blonde hair gleaming like sunlight itself. 
     
    Crossing the dance floor, Faunalyn spun and sashayed with several young men and women from the city regiments. She pressed her taut, muscular body to theirs, guiding hands down to her broad, muscular flanks and whispering sweet nothings in their ears. Because of her magical powers, given by nature itself, the sweet nothings were powerful charms, letting her see through their eyes and speak through their mouths at will. Every man and woman she touched became an unknowing spy, turning the city’s strength against itself.
     
    For Faunalyn was not here at this party to enjoy herself, not with the fate of the forests outside Weit-Gainberg at stake. Her long lived people had existed in harmony with nature for eons and could see the danger of the human’s growing exploitation. Faunalyn’s druidic spells would give the small elven warbands a powerful advantage in the war with these humans, who although lumbering, slow and clumsy were numerous.
     
    Smiling to herself, Faunalyn stepped away from the dance floor, casting an exacting eye at the Weit-Gainberg elite. Ever since the overthrow of the old monarchy, the people of Weit-gainberg had been enjoying prosperity a bit too much. Girls who should have been in the prime of their lives were looking plump and portly, bellies pushing through fraying corsets and soft chins hanging from their faces, huffing and puffing when they should have moved easily. Faunalyn giggled at the sight of them, both for the city’s famed beauties were going to seed and because her people might enjoy an easy victory against such a decadent foe. Putting aside her amusement, the elf began walking towards the exit...and walked right into her doom.
     
    “Ah, try a slice or five!” a jovial, obese chef smiled, her sausage fingers handing Faunalyn a plate piled high with chocolate and whipped cream.
     
    “What is this?” the druid asked, amber eyes starring suspiciously at the bizarre concoction.
     
    “Why its a triple chocolate pie! Ha, I forget that some of you rich girls are kept so isolated from good food,” the spherical chief laughed, “Dig in, I’m sure you’ll love it!”
     
    Faunalyn considered merely charming this bafflingly, disgustingly obese human woman to escape, but she’d spent most of her spells already. Besides, it wasn’t like a little bite would hurt her, it looked disgusting but she needed to have just one nibble to fit in.
     
    “Perhaps, it’s probably a bit...rich,” the elf trailed off, eyes widening and jaw hanging open after her first bite.
     
    Such a delicious, fantastical, stupendous sweetness, mixed with creamy goodness and such rich, succulent chocolate sauce. It was perfect, glorious, amazing and wonderful. So purely and spectacularly delicious that tears began to dribble from her eyes as she devoured the rest of the slice. 
     
    “Can...can I have a bit more…,” Faunalyn asked dreamily, the tip of her tongue licking off the pie remnants from her lips.
     
    “Of course! There’s plenty and for all!” the chef cheered, voice trailing off as Faunalyn grabbed the entire pie, “um, you can have that one…”
     
    The disguised elf gorged herself, the chocolate and cream vanishing in just a few minutes. Licking her lips, the elf gave a small burp and a smile. Her stomach, flat a moment ago, now bulged tight against her dress, her belly reacting poorly to the cream after centuries without any dairy product.
     
    “You have more,” the druid gasped, high breasts rising and falling at the lip of her dress.
     
    “Um, well yes but we only assumed there’d be one pie per guest…,” the fat chef said, Faunalyn grabbing the pie from his hands and gorging on it too.
     
    …..
     
    The morning sky was filled with cawing ravens, circling lower and lower over a slaughtered column of Weit-Gainberg soldiers. 
     
    Attacked from the trees and shot from a distance, they’d never had a chance to defend themselves from the elven ambush. A far smaller number of elves circled the bodies, recovering arrows. They were watched by their commander, the War-Queen of the Woodland Kindreds.
     
    “You’ve done well here, Faunalyn. If we hadn’t known the human’s plans, we’d have taken casualties we couldn’t afford,” Queen Alastrie said sagely, her cold blue eyes looking out over the slaughter from the back of her mighty war stag.
     
    Alastrie was a paragon for her people. Tall and tan, muscular and broad of hip, her beauty savage and pure as a flint knife. Despite being nearly a millenium old only the faintest lines of age were about her eyes and mouth and her belly had hard muscles despite having many offspring. She wore the traditional war armor of her people, a close fitting suit of feathers and leaves that blended into the woodland.
     
    “I, urp, am happy to serve, great queen,” Faunalyn groaned, the druid looking positively green and barely understanding of where she was, “the *erggg* forest is my *urp* only concern…”
     
    A day after her impromptu gorge session, the druid was clearly worse for wear. Her face was pale and her skin was clammy, sweat pouring off of her despite the morning cool. Her belly bulged outwards from uncomfortable bloat, pressing into the pomel of her war elk’s saddle and pushing her skirt down. 
     
    “As it should be,” the Queen said, “but are you sure you should be in the field at all in your condition? Had I known you were so heavy with child, I would not have sent  you into that horrible human city…”
     
    To a human, Faunalyn’s condition would clearly be assigned to eating far, far, far too much. But her people were thrifty aesthetics, they only at as much as they needed. The druid on the other hand, had gorged the whole night through, barely escaping back to the woodlands in time to warn the elves of the human attack. Strange gurgles and groans came from her gut, belly revolting at the flood of calories. The miserable elf was promising herself to never eat a single bite ever again at any point, but being mistaken for pregnant snapped the elf from her haze.
     
    “I, um, well I’m merely having a poor reaction to *urp* the infiltration. Perhaps some sickness of the human food,” the green druid groaned.
     
    “A sickness? We can’t have something like that spread, our numbers are few enough. You must isolate yourself as soon as you examine any magical items from this caravan,” the Queen demanded.
     
    Faunalyn could only nod as a handful of elven snipers appeared with bundled human artifacts taken from the wagons. Few were of any use, some minor magical swords or pieces of armor, none in the style that an elf would prefer. But a single artifact gave the druid pause.
     
    It was a small box of marble, with golden runes inscribed into its sides and top. A creature of magic, Faunalyn read them and had to gasp, covering her mouth. For this box could summon any human food from Weit-Gainberg that it’s holder desired…
     
    “I, um, I will need to study this object,” the druid said so suddenly she surprised even herself, “i will send any word from my unknowing spies onto you via raven…”
     
    A moment ago, Faunalyn had been absolutely certain that she would never eat another bite of human food but now...she couldn’t think of anything else.
     
    ….
     
    A plump breasted dove fluttered down through the high boughs of the forest, coming to rest before a great black berry bush. One puff of magic later and the dove was replaced with a tawny skinned elf, one covered in sweat and gasping to breath.
     
    “Gods of the forest, when *puff* did this flight get so *grunt* long?” Faunalyn gasped to herself as she wiped sweat from her brow.
     
    For a month, every elf but Faunalyn had fought viciously against the human invasion. Thanks to reports of the druid’s unknowing human spies carried to the commanders via birds, they’d won many battles and taken few casualties but the effort was great and the elf had seen no one since her exile. Without the warnings of others, the druid was changing faster than she could perceive.
     
    Endlessly munching on sweet, fatty human fare, the lithe druid had rapidly grown fat. Her people might live nearly forever, but in exchange their metabolisms were incredibly slow. Faunalyn was gaining several pounds per day, Weit-Gainberg’s sweets and savories undoing years of discipline and work every day.
     
    “And these berries, they’re *munch* so dull now,” the druid rasped, shoveling berries by the handful into her mouth, “they used to be so sweet…”
     
    Already the blonde druid was growing sugar intolerant, needing sweeter and sweeter food to get the same high. Combined with a rapidly rising stomach capacity and Faunalyn was already doomed. It was a ritual of her people to eat berries every morning during summer and the druid wouldn’t think of breaking it...although it was getting harder and harder to get to fresh berry patches, given she’d stripped the ones near her home clean.
     
    The once nimble, lithe Elf would have been fatter than fashionable in Weit-Gainberg, having doubled in size. 
     
    Sharp, fae facial features had rounded out, cheeks puffy and mouth hanging open to crease her chins. All of the muscle in her arms was gone, limbs getting lazy and flabby after four weeks of not drawing a bow or throwing a javelin, doing nothing but shovel pie into her mouth. Her breasts were head sized and heaving, stretching her top taut and already records sized among her species.
     
    They were matched by an immensely round belly, her wasp waist obliterated and turned into a fat ball of a belly. Stretchmarks marred it and cellulite was already reaching around her love handles, a first for her species. Lazy, matronly hips were so big they’d begun to slump and the ass behind them was as big as a boar’s.  
     
    After a long, long breakfast, the blonde elf plopped to her ass, jiggles shooting up her body. Black berry juice covered her body and her stomach groaned and grumbled, the entire briar patch picked clean. Too exhausted to fly, Faunalyn turned into the first animal she could think of...a bear that appeared rolly polly with pre-hibernation fat.
     
    In her new form, the transformed elf waddled off to find somewhere to lay down and digest...
    …..
     
    In her dreams, Faunalyn lay in ecstasy.
     
    Her slender, muscular body was at the center of uncounted lovers, male and female, elf and human. Tender mouths bit and suckled upon her hard abomdinals and pert breasts, hands squeezed the hard roundness of her buns and caressed the velvety lips of her sex.  She writhed and moaned, groaning in pleasure as the first of several cocks thrust deep inside her, ramming back and forth, powerful and inevitable as the tides themselves…
     
    Until a sharp, stabbing pain lanced into the abundance of the Druid’s love handle.
     
    “Ummm-mmmmshhhh, stoph,” Faunalyn groaned, throat feeling like sand paper to get out the mumbled words, her fantasy dream fading away to the much different reality, one where her head banged throbbed with a hang over and all of her joints were sore, “Ugh, let me sleep, I command you by the powers of Gaia herself!”
     
    Yet despite the druid’s demand, the sharp tapping remained.
     
    With a grunt, Faunalyn tried to sit up. But groggy as she was, failed to account for just how much elf she was pushing against. She felt her gut crease into rolls and her shoulders rise, breasts spilling sideways across her chest and then met, as if her stomach was a spring being tightened, her abdominals gave out. She fell back into the stolen pillows of her bed with a thump and a groan.
     
    “I’m up, I’m up, just stop,” the druid slurred, voice far deeper than it had been.
     
    Wiping sleep from her bleary, piggish eyes with sausage fingers, the hung over druid saw a large raven prancing on the vast dome of her golden gut. She clumsily swung a thick, lardy arm at it, the fat folds shaking and failed to reach it, her sagging belly now out of reach. The raven eyed her, poked her one more time and spoke.
     
    “War Queen sends word-word!” the raven cawed, “Human-men army marches-advances on the world tree! Need your help for sacred ritual-rite! Queen demands-asks, is sacred rite-ritual ready yet?”
     
    “Ugh, I’ll be there, I’ve got it ready I was just...celebrating my research being successful,” Faunalyn grunted, casting an eye around her room.
     
    There wasn’t a single crumb or uneaten piece of food, for the efficient, devouring machine the once slender druid had become wouldn’t allow a single speck to be wasted. But there were plenty of empty wine bottles littering the floor due to Faunalyn’s budding binge drinking issue. Her headache was testament enough to where all the booze had gone, that and the strange sloshing noise her stomach made.
     
    “Hurry-rush fat-lardy!” the Raven demanded.
     
    Faunalyn glared with one blood shot eye, wishing she had the energy for a curse. But the elf needed everything she had to roll her bloated form off of her looted bed and onto the ground. She had to push with her weak, swollen arms and roll her ample hips while kicking her thick legs to rise to a seated position, counting on the sag of her gut over the bed to pull her up. Just that effort made her breath hard, a humiliating exercise. But Faunalyn was four times the elf maid she’d been when this had started and her hardened forester’s muscles had withered away, buried and smothered by the accumulating layers of fat.
     
    “Just *ooff* give me a moment,” Faunalyn groaned, her keg of a gut resting between her tree trunk thighs, its sagging bulk pushing them apart, “my studies have tired me greatly…”
     
    She rocked forwards, letting her falling gut pull her off the bed. A wince crossed the elf’s face as her knees took the full force of her weight. She’d been built with small bones for a lithe frame and wasn’t easily able to bear over four hundred pounds of pure blubber. Her lower back throbbed at the sway of her flopping breasts, her sausage fingers rubbing the thick layer of back fat in a vain attempt to ease the discomfort.
     
    “Okay, huff, I’m up. Just...let me get a snack,” she grumbled, waddling forwards.
     
    Where once she could have ran across autumn leaves without making a sound, now just walking across her bed chamber made a symphony of noise. The cellulite studded surfaces of Faunalyn’s thighs, bigger around than the waists of two elf maidens in fighting form, clapped together louder than a war drum. Her sagging gut bounced off of her thighs with the thud of a battering ram hitting a castle gate, while her drooping breasts smacked and wobbled. The druid began panting after three paces, breathing in and out through her mouth.
     
    “Hurry-rush!” the crow reminded, avian eye blinking at the vast sea of purple stretchmarks and cellulite covering Faunalyn’s once flawless ass, acres of lard big as the rear end of a human destrier.
     
    “Gotta eat first, I can barely ufff, think…, I’m so hungry,” the hung over Faunalyn mumbled, opening her enchanted bread box and pulling out a steaming hot loaf stolen from some kitchen in Weit-Gainberg.
     
    She devoured the baguette with fast, efficient bites. Its two foot length disappeared in moments without leaving a crumb behind, the only evidence it had ever existed was Faunalyn giving a burp of satisfaction.
     
    “Hurry-rush!” the crow reminded, voice frantic.
     
    “That was just a starter, hold on. I need something else...and something to drink…,” Faunalyn grumbled, plump hands fumbling in the magical box to pull out a tray of cinnamon rolls and a fresh bottle of champagne. 
     
    She gorged on the sticky sweets as if she hadn’t just eaten a full meal of bread, their icy dripping down onto her heavy breasts. So use was she to human sugar that the elf barely noticed their sweetness, the food a tiny salve to her now omnipresent hunger. By the time she was done she was breathing heavily, her out of shape leg muscles groaning at having to stand up so long and her beefy arms throbbing from the rapid motion. She used the cool down time to lick icing and crumbs off of her cleavage, then popped the wine cork with a small spell before chugging the entire bottle down. Dropping it with a thud, she wobbled on her knees, the tipsy elf having to lean on the table.
     
    “Give me a bit to rest, half an hour or so…,” she groaned.
     
    With an exasperated sigh, the magical crow swept across the hollow tree trunk to land on the shelf of Faunalyn’s immense ass. It pecked her butt savagely, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the elf yelp!
     
    “OWWW! Stop that, stop this instance!” the druid demanded, waving her arms uselessly at the crow she had no hope of reaching.
     
    “HURRY THEN FAT-LARD!” the crow demanded.
     
    ‘Gods, you act like I’m dragging,” Faunalyn muttered, waddling towards her door.
     
    A snap of her fingers made clothes materialize around the elf. It saved her a lot of labor, but the summoned clothing barely fit. Her green skirt was nearly hidden by the droop of her belly and the sag of her love handles, while her emerald bra was on its last legs. The ripping, straining fabric showed more breast both above and below its frayed band than Faunalyn used to have period, her grain sack cleavage straining against the supporting cloth. Her shoes barely even fit, for her feet had widened and swelled under the pressure of her lardy body.
     
    It wasn’t that Faunalyn was unaware of the drastic changes she’d undergone, but in her drunken, gluttonous haze, the once disciplined druid was in deep denial of just how bad it was. She kept telling herself it was just a little bit of bloat, that would go down in moments, but she was about to discover just how badly she’d let herself go upon taking the simple task of going through her own front door.
     
    The bole of the giant redwood was big enough to fit a horse easily, not that one could ever climb up so high. Faunalyn had never given a thought to outgrowing it, how could she?, but the obese elf hadn’t even tried leaving her abode for months. In that time, her always womanly hips had spread and spread, fat piling up and spreading wider and wider, until her hips were at last wider than she was tall...and wider than her door.
     
    “Ugh, what...what’s happening?” Faunalyn grunted as her progress slowed, the tough bark biting into her sensitive flanks, “Why, no, I can’t be stuck!”
     
    The hung over, tipsy elf twisted side to side, deep rolls forming to see her body was wedged deep inside the hole. Snarling, she grabbed the sides and pulled, doing nothing but wedging herself tighter and tighter.
     
    “I’m...having some problems,’ the elf admitted to the crow still riding her rump, “some help might be in order.”
     
    “Too fat-wide!” the crow agreed, poking her again with his beak.
     
    “That’s not what I need! Go to my enchanted box, get me some butter, alright?” the elf demanded, “I can, urp, I can lube myself up with it…”
     
    “You’d just eat-devour it!” the bird demanded, poking her hard, “change shape! Change shape!”
     
    “Ugh, that’s so...tiring,” Faunalyn moaned, “but...let me give it a shot…”
     
    Changing shape into an animal form should have been easy as eating pie to Faunalyn. But the spell required nimble hand motions and a high paen to the Earth Goddess herself, which were problems. Her fingers were bloated and clumsy sausages, while all the fat on her chest and a diminished lung capacity meant the elf could no longer hit the high notes. It took her several tries, by which point she was gasping and sweating, to finally transform and when she did, it wasn’t to her satisfaction…
     
    Faunalyn fell to her new paws, no longer an elf but a sleek hunting panther...or a formerly sleek panther. Now her warform was as fat as a house cat, flabby gut dragging on the ground beneath her. Groaning in discomfort, she waddled out onto the branch and transformed back into her elven figure, the fae laying prostrate on the broad tree trunk.
     
    “I need, *gasp*, some rest…,” Faunalyn grunted, fat drooping off the limb and unaware her skirt had ripped away in the tumult.
     
    The raven could only sigh in frustration. Hopping up, the little bird flew towards a giant eagle nest, hoping to cash in a favor because there was no way this hog of an elf was ever going to get anywhere on her own...
     
  12. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to SilverPathfinder in The Weasel of Malgoren   
    [TW : dark, contains physical and verbal abuse]
    Chapter 18 : The Trap
    Sarya looked at the box just presented to her by Evelyn, curiosity momentarily moving her away from her spiral of self-loathing. The stuffed and tired ex-thief didn’t noticed the predator’s spark in Evelyn’s eyes, nor the dagger hidden being her back, her usually sharp senses dulled by months of indulgent and leisured life. Slowly, she waddled toward the counter, her overfed belly gently pressing against the wooden edge as she leaned forward, a round chubby arm reaching to open the box. As soon as she removed the lid, the knowledgeable fence noticed something was odd. That fabric was oddly familiar, that lush green silk, so soft and smooth to the touch. Raising an eyebrow, Sarya took the box’s content and pulled it out in one movement, revelling the unforgivable green dress she left with Evelyn when they first met, with her plump flesh poking out of its ripped seems. It was the most luxurious piece of clothing Sarya had ever worn, something that was, all considered, above the station she picked for her false identity.
    Immediately, pieces started to snap together inside of Sarya’s mind, and hairs raised on the back of her neck as the implication of that ‘surprise’ became clear. Evelyn knew she had stolen it, and with this whole set up, she probably also understood Sarya’s masquerade. The obese brunette had no idea for how long Evelyn had been aware of this, but there was no doubt in her that the elegant ex-adventurer wasn’t there to make a friendly intervention. Whatever there was between her and Sarya at this point wasn’t kindness.
    Slowly, trying to hide her expression, Sarya turned to glance at Evelyn, and was met with a set of stone cold grey eyes that made her shiver under the many inches of fat that covered her body. The trader’s lips were pressed thin with contempt and hatred, and Sarya couldn’t help but step back at the sight of such hostility painted in the face of someone she saw as a friend. Too late to act dumb, this woman wanted her skin! Sarya had to get out of there! She could always lay low at the Three Calices and sort this problem out, but she had to leave.
    With pure fear giving her strength and clarity, the usually charming and easy going city girl returned to her long buried street survival instincts, the kind of which she had to rely upon as an orphan living in the slums. She had no weapon, but if she could knock Evelyn down, she could get out in the street and hopefully be safe from her murderous loathing.
    Trying to remember her fights as a teenager, Sarya charged the taller woman, praying that she could use her weight advantage to get the best of her. But Sarya wasn’t a bigger and stronger street urchin bullying the kids around for their loot, she was an out of shape and clumsy ball of lard, and her movements were sluggish, predictable, and pathetic for Evelyn’s trained eyes. The toned swordswoman kept one hand behind her back, smirking at the unpredictable attack from her delusional prey. She didn’t expect a thief to have such strong survival instinct. That was a surprise that almost made her laugh. She glared with disgust at the butterball lounging towards her, Sarya’s chubby arms flailing like fat padded clubs directed toward her face and muscular stomach.
    Stepping aside in one graceful motion, Evelyn dodged the face punch, while the other missed her midriff, finding Evelyn’s lean profile too small of a target to land a hit, as was the purpose of a fencer’s stance. Cow tits bouncing around and throwing her off balance, Sarya crashed against a mannequin behind Evelyn, her barrel sized gut absorbing the impact with a sigh of pain from the out of shape ex-rogue, which was already panting after this burst of effort. Needing the key to unlock the door, Sarya turned back toward Evelyn, doubt adding to the turmoil of expressions that could be seen on her reddening face.
    Failing to consider her current state of obesity, the formerly nimble street girl feigned a punch, but instead went for a powerful kick that could have hit Evelyn right in the solar plexus… if Sarya rolled gut didn’t got in the way of her thick leg, causing the kick to raise about as high as Evelyn’s knee, an attack she dodged easily with a quick leap from her toned shins.
    Thrown off-balance by her failed strike, Sarya stumbled backward, her enormous bum causing her to crash against the changing cabin, the fragile pine door almost breaking under the strain from stopping the obese brawler. Barely standing with her oversized curves wobbling left and right, Sarya was already finding it hard to find her breath, her enormous tits stretching the thin fabric of her blouse as they heaved helplessly.
    Disgusted, Evelyn went on the offensive, sidestepping Sarya with the speed of a viper before shoving her on the side, watching with boredom as the obese brunette toppled over and landed on her belly with a loud fleshy thud, her breath knocked out of her lungs by the ungraceful fall. Rolling on the ground like a fat slug, Sarya tried to push herself back up, grunting under the strain of hauling both her belly and bosom off the floor, only to find the point of Evelyn’s leather boot land on her side with brutally. The boot only failed to break a rib because of the sheer thickness of Sarya’s side fat, but the Weasel still whimpered in pain, rolling on her opposite side in a sad attempt to escape Evelyn’s attacks.
    That clumsy effort didn’t do much to help Sarya’s situation, only causing her enormous belly to escape the waistband of her skirt, and spill on the floor right in front of her like a smooth buttery slab. Evelyn stopped in her track, almost stunned in disgust, before stepping on the lard pile, putting all her weight on her heel and watching with sadistic pleasure as Sarya squirmed in pain, crying, and trying to crawl always, with no avail.
    ‘’What a disgusting little blob you have become, thief! All buried in useless, pathetic, cumbersome flesh. You used to be fit, didn’t you? I remember, you were merely plump when you stormed into my shop, wearing MY creation, a dress you not only stole, but stretched and ripped with your shameful gluttony.’’
    Evelyn let go the hilt of her dagger, realizing she didn’t needed any weapon to completely overpower the shorter girl. The greedy piglet was barely strong enough to fight against her own body! Stepping away from Sarya, she slowly paraded around her, her long toned legs moving with a grace and elegance that was now alien to the hedonistic ex-urchin.
    ‘’I barely had to do anything to ruin you. You did it yourself. I simply stood there, watching you eat yourself away from your strength, your good looks, and then your decency. Did you really believe you could fit among us? Us who deserve our status and wealth? You are nothing but a greedy sow, and now anyone that looks at you will see you for who you truly are.’’
    She swiftly leaned down, grabbing Sarya by her soft plump neck, thin and strong fingers sinking into sensitive skin, and making the already panting girl gasping for air. Slowly, Evelyn stood up, forcing Sarya to do the same or else the stranglehold would grow stronger. The toned ex-adventurer then let go her grasp, watching her now standing obese prey bend in two and rub her neck, fat melon sized breasts swaying in a cascading cleavage that would look indecent even on an half-giant. Snickering, the hateful seamstress grabbed on her these low hanging fruit, painfully squeezing the sensitive flesh, finding herself somewhat amazed by the softness of it all, only to be distracted by Sarya pathetically trying to push her away. Letting go, Evelyn slapped the fat girl with all the strength of a fighting woman, her nails leaving a bleeding gash on her round bring red cheek.
    ‘’Behave yourself, cow! Or else you will regret making me angry. Don’t be mistaken, you have no control over this situation. I will decide of your fate, so you better learn your place.’’
    Sarya was swallowed by pain, and wrapped her arms around her enormous bosom in a protective manner, feeling the bruised flesh throbbing under her hands. Tears dried on her cheeks, and slowly, she recovered her composure. Evelyn wanted something from her, but she didn’t want her dead. She was a twisted, vengeful psychotic cunt, but she was after some kind of win, not a kill. Mustering the strength to speak, Sarya asked her what she wanted, what she would do with her.
    ‘’Oh… Don’t you worry my dear, dear, Sarya. I am a duellist you know, I wouldn’t kill such a helpless foe, that wouldn’t show much sportsmanship.’’
    Evelyn moved back to the green dress, which was laying on the countertop, discarded. She took the dress in her hands, pensively looking at her creation before glancing back at Sarya.
    ‘’I first planned to have you put this on, you know, to show you how ridiculous your pretense at respectability was. I added more than 10 inches of fabric, planning ahead for this moment. But I misjudged the extent of your gluttony. I am afraid this dress is now useless, you are already way too fat to get into it, we will have to make do without it.’’
    Sarya stood immobile, cold sweat dripping down her back, her knees weak from fear as well as the walk that brought her back from the park. She noticed the dagger hidden behind Evelyn’s slender body, the sheath placed right over her toned bum. The dark haired seamstress had something in mind, and Sarya was feeling anxiety build up toward that reveal. All she hoped was that this dagger had to part to play in this. She knew some cities mutilated thieves as punishment. Was Evelyn about to take her fingers? Sarya shivered in horror, but stood without moving, waiting to learn her fate.
    ‘’I am tempted by leniency. No matter what awaits you ahead in life, I am certain you future is grim. You are too far gone, too hopelessly depraved to get any hold of yourself. I promise not to hunt you down or expose you to the city watch, but you will have to leave through the back entrance. You are no friend of mine, and certainly not a customer either, not with this figure. You simply have to leave like the bloated rat you are, and you will be free.’’ Elelyn smirked with a predators eyes, pointing at the back store’s doorway, hidden behind a curtain. Moments ago, she had slipped through it with the dress’ box in her hands. Could that really be so simple?
    Hesitant, Sarya carefully stepped around Evelyn, moving slowly, as if not to upset some malignant beast that had her cornered. The floor boards groaned under her bulk as she moved toward the back of the shop. The overfed brunette was making great care to keep eye contact with Evelyn as she pulled the curtain aside and glanced at the seamstress workshop hidden behind it. The way looked safe, and she could see the wooden doorway that certainly led to the back alley. Sarya felt a touch of relief course through her body as she started to leave, until to freeze dead in her track as she felt her wide, abundant, decadent, and fat laden hips get wedged inside the thin doorway separating the back store from the shop. The narrowness of the doorframe had been obfuscated by the curtain, but this passage was properly narrow, thinner than even the most modest doorways in the slum.
    '’Oh, yes, I forgot that this door might feel a little cramped to you. Not that I eyed your measurements and knew for a fact they would struggle with this 20 inches gap. It was like this when I bought the shop, years ago. I learned the back store was a different rental once, and they got lazy cutting the wall when they fused the two spaces. Not that it was much of an issue for me or my employees… but you. Oh my… are you wedged tight already?’’
    Sarya blood was running cold in her veins as she tried to squeeze her oversized body inside the narrow gap. Face first was clearly not going to work, but even when she shifted herself sideways, she felt her fat belly bite the edges of the passage. It was not only narrow, but the wall was thicker than normal, exactly the kind of structure that would separate two individual buildings. Sarya started to groan in frustration, cursing under her breath as she squirmed inside the tight trap laid by Evelyn. It wasn’t like she could do anything but try to jam herself through. Even then, was this dark haired demon really going to let her go? Sarya preferred not to linger on it too much; her situation was already hopeless enough as it was.
    Evelyn moved closer to Sarya, a grin glued on her face as she saw how enormous the short brunette looked in contrast with the narrow passage. There were fat rolls, tit flesh, and huge mushy butt cheeks overflowing in every direction, the girl almost looking as she was spilling out of the doorway like a ooze monster. Thin fingers moved on the flanks of her struggling prey, prodding her blubber, sinking knuckle deep in pure buttery flab. It was grotesque and oddly fascination for the tall seamstress. Who knew fat was so gross, yet so soft? This texture was unlike anything she touched. Was it Sarya’s absolutely unmatched obesity that made her fat layers so different from any matron’s baby weight? Or maybe it was her youth?
    Sarya tried to ignore Evelyn weird silence and prodding, concentrating on moving forward. She sucked her belly as hard as she could, asking her underworked and atrophied core muscles to forgive her for all the stuffing and abuse she put them under. It didn’t helped much, but it made her belly inches a little deeper inside, her hip beginning to poke on the other side. Now, it was her pumpkin sized tits and her fecund bottom that were getting the most in the way. Toneless and fat, her butt could more or less be squeezed through the gap, but she had to use her hand and slowly, painfully, pathetically push her fat in, one little ounce at a time. She was also using her other hand on the opposite side to pull on the flesh on a similar fashion. Evelyn laughed watching her do so, clearly having expected Sarya to give up.
    ‘’Oh my. I really should have put a time limit to this challenge. Is that really a testament to your skills if it takes you days to get through? Change of plan, you crafty cow, you have five minutes to get out of my shop before I call the guards. Better get those fat tits of yours out of there quick.’’
    That wasn’t fair! Sarya hurried as much as she could, using her thick, chubby legs to push while painfully squeezing her belly and butt cheeks through the gap. She was soon drenched in sweat and tears, huffing and puffing; biting her tongue not to scream as her numerous bruises were getting pressed against the unrelenting walls. Eventually, after minutes of struggle, she somehow managed to push the peak of her belly past the tight squeeze, and quickly slipped her second butt cheek free, leaving only her upper body stuck at a weird angle in the doorway, her famously voluptuous bosom the last obstacle to her freedom.
    Evelyn started to count, ‘’30, 29, 28…’’ slowly moving toward the front door, fidgeting with her keys. Sarya let out a scream of helpless rage, pushing against her oversized breasts with self-loathing and anger. Accidentally, she struck her teardrop shaped bust right where Evelyn cruelly groped her earlier, hitting the sensitive injured flesh with more strength than she should have. Her legs buckled under the pain, causing her to fall over out of control, like in slow motion.
    Sarya eyes widened in fear and she felt her body falling backward while her huge, ballooned, oversized breasts were still stuck inside the doorway. Soon, all of her enormous body weight was pulling on the poor orbs. Her captive shoulder almost dislocated itself with a nasty cracking sound, before it popped through the gap, causing her body to turn and face the doorway once more. For a small, excruciating moment, she hung by the mass of her bosom, oversized tits wedge in their 20 inches prison, supporting all the immensity of her decadence.
    Then, helped by the sweat drenching their curves, they simply squeezed through, her blouse ripping in the process, with the fat melons swaying, red and sore, before landing with an heavy thud on the shelf of her stomach. Her back caught Evelyn’s nearby working bench, and Sarya almost slip to the ground, but she stopped her fall, knowing all too well she didn’t had the time to stand up if she went down.
    Evelyn looked at Sarya in shock as her obese prey defied all odds and, in one last burst of effort, dashed through the workshop and opened the door, stepping into the light, half naked and with her soaked clothes hugging each and every fold of her obese body. All she could hear was staggering away in the alley was Evelyn loath fuelled congratulations.
    ‘’Well done cow, well done. Waddle back to your pathetic life. I am certain the journey back to your den will be very fun. Oh, and try to stay away from narrow doors from now on! You are no burglar, I am afraid to say!’’
  13. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to >_< 0_0 in Kayla the Dark Elf Wizard Who Will Totally Not Get Fat   
    Just beyond the looming shadow of the King’s Palace stood two town guards under the awning of a local brothel. It being morning, the harlots within were busier scrubbing their dwelling clean than serving thirsty patrons, but that didn’t stop both guards stealing glances at their hips as they bent down to wash tables. The wenches paid them no mind, being used to lustful eyes, although they did wonder about the deep tan of the guards’ slender chins — their skin almost seemed red.
    ”Tight shorts,” the shorter of the two guards muttered under her breath. “Why didn’t I think of that? They’re way sexier than kilts.”
    ”Curse this armor,” the taller one fidgeted uncomfortably. “My wings are getting cramped under the cuirass.”
    ”But the shorts, Abarra! Look at them! They hug everything! And that one right there’s got an ass hanging out from the bottom, by the gods...”
    ”I can barely breathe in this thing...”
    ”Look, dammit!”
    ”... yes, Balla, I see her fat ass. She’s your type.”
    ”Oh really? And just what is my type?”
    ”Besides a strong half-demon like me? You definitely have a soft spot for shorties.”
    ”Shorties? Hmm...”
    ”... with chubby hips and thighs.”
    ”Oh that! Yeah, you got me there. How’d you know?”
    ”It was easy enough. Near half the time I saw you on our boat, you were staring at the dark elf’s butt so hard it was like you were trying to see through the kilt.”
    ”I was! It’s not hard either, cause her ass has been getting bigger.”
    ”My, but you’ve noticed it too?”
    ”I have an eye for it; what can I say? I think she’s going through elf-puberty; she’s putting on her woman-weight.”
    ”How do you know for sure? Is that how elves mature? Have you asked her?”
    ”Of course not! Okay Abarra, listen to me... come closer... we gotta keep this to ourselves.”
    ”You mean we shouldn’t talk to Kayla about it?”
    “Exactly. Don’t even mention her weight! This is an elf we’re talking about here. They don’t believe in curves. Any of them so much as pinches some softness and they starve themselves for days. I heard back in the Dominion, their clergy even runs inquisitions to enforce their diet culture.”
    ”Perhaps that is what you and Culla need.”
    ”Abarra... don’t me started... I’m dieting even now. I’ll be back to my normal self in a month.”
    ”I do hope your tits don’t shrink.”
    ”Right? That weightless spell is a gift from the gods! They’d look amazing if we weren’t stuffed in these uniforms...”
    ”You and me, both.”
    ”Abarra... say we make out for a bit. Just a little? We haven’t foreplayed in six hours. I’m aching so bad...”
    ”Hold on, Balla. I see our target: there, turning the corner. Two casino guards.”
    ”Yeah, I see the fuckers. We’ll continue this conversation later. Go ahead and get ready; I’m gonna prime the kindling.”
    ”You got it, sister.”
    With a final fidgeting of her painfully-tight breastplate, Abarra positioned herself before the oncoming cash-cart and held her hand up.
    ”Halt!”
    The driver and her partner reined in the horses and frowned at her. They were just as well armored as the town guard, Abarra noted, and wielded blades and crossbows as well, but they were small, brittle things, more suited for standing post than marching on campaign. This should be easy.
    ”Out of the way, woman!” The driver said with a nasal tone. “We’re on the clock!”
    ”A dangerous threat has come to our attention,” Abarra’s voice was calm and steady, like a mighty river. “A criminal has schemed to hex the wagons of the King’s Palace to explode and burn.”
    (Rolled ATHLETICS: 78/80, a close PASS)
    ”O-oh wait a minute,” the A-driver shivered. “A hex? Boss, it’s that thing they told us about! We have —“
    ”Quiet, let me think!” The driver was no less spooked.
    ”There is no time,” Abarra spoke firmly. “Let us check under your wagon for hex hieroglyphs.”
    Balla came to Abarra’s side and together they approached the wagon’s undercarriage. The drivers said nothing, but watched intently as Balla bent over and crawled underneath.
    (Rolled ATHLETICS and CHARISMA: 28/60 and 43/70, double PASS)
    Balla grunted as she wriggled herself further in, muttering curses as her chainmail pinched the sides of her muffintop. An ominous creaking sounded from the half-demon’s armor straps.
    ”Hang on,” the driver stared at Abarra. “Your skin...”
    ”What’s wrong with it?” Abarra suppressed a shiver of fear.
    ”It’s hue... lemme get a better look... it’s red! How is that possible? And your fingers... are those claws? Wait, I get it now! You’re a demon!”
    ”Half-demon,” Abarra replied flatly. “My mother was a human.”
    ”How did you become a guard, then? All of the others are human.”
    ”Boss, don’t say that!” The A-driver leaned in awkwardly. “It sounds racist.”
    ”It’s not racist, it’s true— wait, what’s that smell?”
    It was then that Balla shimmied back out from under the cart, smoke billowing from beneath.
    ”Everyone get away!” she cried. “Scram! This cart’s about to blow! Get away! Move!”
    As Abarra added her cries to Balla’s the entire street erupted in a mad stampede for cover. The drivers tripped and fumbled their way off the wagon, joining the fray of bystanders and leading the charge straight through the brothel’s window, hiding behind tables with the wenches.
    ”Quick! Defuse it!” Abarra yelled for her captive audience’s benefit.
    ”I’m trying!” Balla swung into the driver’s seat. “It’s heating up down here! I can’t see!”
    ”Oh no!” Abarra stifled a snicker as she jumped by her side. “Fire!”
    ”Get out while you still can!”
    ”I can’t lose you! Grab my hand — ooh!”
    Abarra’s breastplate had finally snapped from the pressure within, it’s straps torn asunder as the plate itself flew ahead and struck the horse with a dull clang. The frightened beast reared with a mighty neighing before galloping down the now-clear street.
    ”Noooo!” Balla crowd with a grin. “She’s gone!”
    They careened down the winding street, turning out of sight from the cowering mob and burst into laughter. Abarra relished the sensation of taking full breaths. Free at last, her mighty breasts wobbled beneath the weight of her chainmail, throbbing with blood.
    ”That was fucking brilliant, Abarra!”
    ”Outstanding! Kill bodies!”
    ”The way you were screaming with me...”
    ”Those dumb drivers...”
    ”And your armor bursting off! Girl, that almost sounded like a real explosion!”
    ”Felt like one too.”
    ”Come on. Let’s get this thing outside the city walls before the guard catches on.”
    ”Do you think Kayla will be alright in the casino?”
    ”She can handle herself. Don’t worry, we haven’t seen the last of her.”
  14. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Batman76 in The Sorceress' Stress Snacking   
    why thank you. Your own posts of subtly softened girls help quite a bit for inspiration...
    and here we go, an incredibly fan servicy chapter where two best friends comiserate about their frequent boyfriend, get very **, eat far too much and fuck each other's brains out...
     
    Chapter 3: Something More...
    Sorceresses tended to all lack self restraint.
     
    Most were born despised, ugly and deformed, the magic that gave them their powers inflicting various genetic issues. Once they came into their powers, their great power and beauty tended to go to their heads. Stopping their aging at twenty also stopped the mental development of risk assessment and emotional restraint, leaving hundred year old women with the intellects of genius’ and the emotional volatility and risk assessment of a girl in her first year of university with something to prove.
     
    All of which went a great deal towards explaining Triss and Yennefer’s current state.
     
    “It’s...it’s like, am I...am I not good enough for him? Right? I mean, look at this face. Look at this...Triss, look at my face,” Yennefer slurred, gesturing at her face with the neck of a trembling wine bottle, “Triss *hic* you’re not looking at my face…”
     
    “What? Hold on, what am I...what am I looking at?” Triss asked blearily, looking up from the empty pie ** her spoon was scraping.
     
    “My ...uhh...hold on, my face, because Geralt left me for you even though my face is all,” Yennefer slurred, wine bottle getting dangerously angled towards a spill “because, it’s…ah shit.”
     
    Red wine poured out of the wicker wrapped bottle, soaking the white fabric of Yennefer’s blouse, transparent fabric sticking to her breasts. Groaning, the sorceress snapped one finger to summon a new bottle of wine and snapped another to make her shirt disappear. The white silk vanished, letting her ivory skin be exposed: pert, round breasts sticky with wine and shiny from rapid growth, pink nipples gleaming. Beneath them, a pampered and toneless tummy stretched wide from a feast fit for six. Love handles were growing up from her hips, moving her waistline higher even as it widened.
     
    “H-hold on, were you talking about your *munch* your face or your tits,” Triss said, losing the point of the conversation and taking a deep swig of her own wine, “I was eating too much to notice…”
     
    “I don’t know but...this food’s fucking good,” Yennefer agreed, shoving a buttery biscuit into her mouth.
     
    Lady Vegelbud was an immensely rich woman, a minor but very beautiful noble girl who’d married an adventurous prospector exploring the then poor land of Kovir. Discovering great mineral wealth had let the Lady indulge herself, buying not just a great estate but the services of excellent chefs and a very deep wine cellar. The former tourney queen had promptly grown quite fat as a result and became very dependent on weight loss potions brewed by one Triss Merigold to keep her figure, the sorceress tipped extra to stay mum about how the Lady’s waistline stayed so thin. When Triss had had to go on the run, the nearby Vegelbud estate was an obvious place.
     
    Immensely grateful for maintaining her looks, the Lady had given Triss not just refuge and a disguise as her own absent daughter, but every luxury imaginable. A feast for a family of six, replete with pies, roasts, puddings, stuffing, vegetables, fried fowl and plenty of wine. And both Yennefer and Triss, despite their ages and recent weight gain, were still total light weights.
     
    “Why was I pointing at my face again?” Yennefer asked blurrily after she swallowed, her genius brain operating through a haze of booze as the now topless sorceress drank more wine
     
    “I don’t know, probably because of *munch* Geralt,” Triss muttered, taking a massive bite of drumstick.
     
    “Yes! Geralt, damn witcher. I was in *hic* paradise with him and when we were separated he just ran off with, err…,” Yennefer, a natural ** talker monologued, “you…”
     
    “Yeah well, he’d saved me from being turned into a statue and then *hic*,” the ** Triss slurred, taking a very long drought of wine straight from the bottle, “a letter from you and he ran off and I just *urp* ate myself into pighood…”
     
    As they were in a private chamber, Triss had bothered changing from her robe, directly summoning it from the kitchens with magic. Said robe was now on the ground, the redhead sitting naked in the comfortable chair. Her already pudgy midsection bulged forwards, stuffed with food to the point of groaning and full of wine to the point of sloshing. The sterile sorceress looked full term pregnant, her head sized breasts starting to rest on the heavy gut, it’s popped belly button brushing the edge of the table.
     
    “Pighood? Pfftt, you’re practically sve-sev-slev-svelte!” Yennefer stuttered **, pausing to drink yet more wine, “Besides, everything you eat goes to your boobs…”
     
    “Yeah I thought that was good the first couple of cup sizes, but now? My jugs are sagging like I skipped a decades worth of anti-aging rituals. They’re so floppy I can almost, look I can almost put my nipple in my mouth,” Triss hiccuped, jostling her hefty tear drops, which were starting to gain small white stretchmarks and just failing to meet her lips with one brown nipple, “see...okay, not quite but like soon.”
     
    Yennefer dropped her fork in amazement at the delicious sight of Triss nearly self-nursing, and then, caught staring, ate more pie to cover it up.
     
    “Yeah, because they’re the size of your fucking head. Gods, every time I see your rack I regret going for the petite, tiny option when it was time to be made pretty,” Yennefer giggled through her full mouth, her refined accent slipping for crass farmgirl under the rain of wine, “besides you look bloody damn gorgeous, so soft and cuddly, like a big, voluptuous pillow.”
     
    Triss was already blushing from the alcohol, but her blush went redder still at Yennefer’s drunken rambling.
     
    “You...you think I look good?” Triss asked, unsure if she was hearing things right.
     
    “Please, you’re like a fertility goddess. I could suck those tits till I went gray,” the ageless brunette hiccuped, “and you look better all soft. If I wanted hard I’d sleep with a man, and you know, fuck them. Geralt stayed with me the longest and he left me for you and then left you for me and fuck him you know, because I thought he really cared about me and *hic* I get all angry but then I see him again and it’s like I’m a damn school girl with a crush and I want him to take me even though I’m fat now…”
     
    “F-fat? You! No,” Triss returned, spilling wine on the table and licking it up, her breasts pressing into a plate of fried potato slices, the unhealthy starches stuck to the tan titties.
     
    “Of course I’m fat,” yennefer said, shoving an entire slice of pumpkin pie into her mouth, “I’m fucking rotund, I think I’ve gained thirty pounds at least this year. Because of this damned curse amulet the fucking southerners put on me to make me find Cir fasteri, as if I wouldn’t kill myself to give her a minute of life...wait, Ciri weren’t you going to help me find Ciri…”
     
    “Yeah, I *hic* already sent off a message. Gonna be a few days until we can meet the crimelords though and we’ll have to be *urp* naked,” Triss explained, sitting up with difficulty due to her bloating, “and you’re lucky, I just *hic* am allergic to potions and I lost my weight loss charms. I could have put them on two *urp* months ago and I’d still be thin but I was too much of a sad sack, depression eating over Geralt…”
     
    “Damn Geralt, the yellow eyed fuck. Why do we even care, just because his cock feels like lightning. He’s why we both got fat,” Yennefer complained, eating another slice with her hands, usually pristine decorum all lost.
     
    “Fat? You’re not fat,” Triss said, circling the conversation around again.
     
    “I’m so fucking fat I had to take my corset off so I could get fatter!” Yennefer protested, lightly slapping her own dome of a belly, “Look at this, I had a twenty inch waist and I’m so fucking bloated, I must have half a foot of bloat just from the wine I drank!”
     
    The short, sloshed woman had only meant to have a few bites. But as she got drunker and the corset tighter, she’d pulled it off, letting her gut out in full. With her blouse gone, the raven haired woman sat shakily in her seat wearing just her skirt, stuffed and bloated stomach filling her lap. She gave it a light slap for emphasis, its thickening coat of blubber jiggling.
     
    “I mean, you put on a few pounds but it looks, soooo goood on you,” Triss slurred, her exposed nipples slowly hardening as she took in how round the normally skinny brunette looked, “you’re all cute and cuddly and bouncy. So much better than the regal queen look you had, you’re like the, like the girl next door now that you just want to get a hand under her skirts…”
     
    “Next door to a pie shop more like. And you haven’t seen my ass. It’s fucking fat, it eats my underwear like I eat cookies,” the grumbling, angry ** muttered, “I ripped my pants in half this morning, can you believe it? I’m far fatter than you are. You’re like the...like the milf noble lady who’s all prim and proper but every time she breath’s almost puts an eye out with her big fucking nipples…”
     
    “Well yeah, but I’m way fatter than you,” Triss stammered, slowly rising to her feet, hand on her back to support her weight, pulling some oily fries off of her breasts, “I’ve got, a, what do you, a scale in the other room. I’m sure I’m fatter…”
     
    “You’re taller, that’s cheating,” Yennefer accused, “of course you’ll weigh more…”
     
    “We’ll just use our our old uh weights,” Triss said, waddling onwards, holding her arms out ot stop the room from spinning around herself and opening the door to reveal a precise bronze medical scale.
     
    Yennefer slowly followed, eating pie directly from the plate, chocolate and cream smearing on her face and holding a bottle of wine, her belly bloating up by the bite and the sip.
     
    “Here I was uhhh, 135 before,” the 5’8 redhead said, stepping on with a thunk of metal and grind of gears, “and now I’m shit, oh fuck. Now I’m 178, forty fucking pounds…how, I knew I’d let myself go but gods, am I that fat?”
     
    “Please you *munch* look gorgeous, you’re finally getting an ass on you,” Yennefer slurred, spanking her friend hard enough to leave a red hand print on her jiggling, freckled butt, “Now move, I wanna see how fucking badly I ruined myself…”
     
    Yennefer stepped shakily up, her natural grace even in four inch stilettos ruined by five bottles of wine and a changed center of gravity. 
     
    “No fair, you’ve got a whole pie in your hand,” Triss pointed out, “and wine.”
     
    “Ugh, fine I’ll finish it first,” the brunette muttered, chugging the entire bottle of wine, red droplets cascading across her chin, throat and bosom, before shoving several handfuls of pie into her mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, “fshee?”
     
    Slowly swallowing but audibly sloshing, Yennefer started to step again, only for Triss to hold up a hand.
     
    “You’ve got a skirt on, and high heels,” the ** redhead pointed out, “if we want to find, uh find who’s the fattest we both have to be naked. Right cause otherwise, it uh...just take your skirt off…”
     
    Yennefer swallowed again, then snapped her fingers. Her skirt teleported off of her, materializing folded and pressed on a nearby chair along with her panties and her polished boots. Trim, girlish legs now sat snugly together, plenty of fat having collected in Yennefer’s hips, buns and lower belly. Her thighs were meaty, her shoulder width hips hefty and her tight, taut butt was now soft, pillowy, wide and in the early stages of drooping. 
     
    Of course, without the four inch heels, Yennefer was now standing in mid air and fell the short distance. Unbalanced, she tumbled right into the taller Triss, knocking the softening redhead into a wall and her own face into the ginger’s breasts. Taut bellies bumped into each other, each engorged woman groaning and needing a moment to catch their breath.
     
    “Ugh, oww I...these are way bigger up close…,” Yennefer said, face pointedly not moving from the milky valley, “and they really suit you…”
     
    “And you’re waaay shorter than I remembered...,” Triss finished, looking down at the much shorter woman, able to see a few flecks of cellulite and some silvery stretchmarks across the hefty surface of Yen’s once flawless buns, “and wider...in a really good way…”
     
    “I’m not short, I’m uh, pete...petite and I’m not wide I’m...chunky,” the ** brunette slurred, stepping gingerly away and onto the scale at last, “Okay, one forty five...shit. That’s fat...and you’re still fatter than me, I only gained thirty five pounds…”
     
    “I thought you only weighed a hundred pounds?” Triss asked, “that’s what you’d said…”
     
    “Yeah well...I lied about it. Cause I wanted to look, uh, skinnier. Fat lot of good that did me. Cause it turns out you are fatter even though I look way worse...” Yennefer muttered, stepping off of the scale and slipping in her drunkenness.
     
    Triss stumbled forth to catch her, concern evident despite forgetting her formidable muscles were now mush and she had no sense of balance due to the booze. Arms linked, the two ** women falling unharmed onto a well placed fainting couch, which groaned under their 300lb plus combined weight. For a moment they held their breaths, then let out a massive, ** giggle.
     
    “Gods, can you imagine if that broke? That’s how you know you’re fat!” Triss laughed.
     
    “I don’t think I’d ever be able to look you in the *hic* face again!” Yennefer agreed, although her eyes were on Triss’ heavy, heaving bosom.
     
    “You’re not looking at my face now. Ha, you’re just like Geralt,” the redhead snorted.
     
    “Yeah well, you know what I think would make Geralt really mad?” Yennefer pressed.
     
    “What?” Triss began, ending as Yennefer lunged forwards and kissed her.
     
    The kiss was loud, wet and sloppy, befitting their stinking ** status. It went on for nearly a minute, the pair’s tongues lurching around their shining white teeth. At last they broke away, breathing heavily.
     
    “I don’t know if, whew, if Geralt would be angry at seeing that,” Triss laughed.
     
    “Well, fuck Geralt. I know what I want now,” Yennefer demanded, lunging into kiss her friend once more.
     
    Again the pair kissed, hands beginning to roam further south. Yennefer found herself cupping Triss’ heavy breasts, her small hands barely enough for the hefty, sloppy mammaries. Triss was kneading Yenn’s widened butt, squeezing and kneading the jiggling ass fat. Both tried to roll over but the swollen, bloated bulk of their bellies prevented such a maneuver.
     
    “You’re the fattest one, right? So you need to burn some lard off,” Yennefer demanded, “there’s a riding crop and a strap on in my bag, I want you to punish me and I want you to fuck me…bring the ball gag too, I’m a screamer…”
     
    “Going hard already, huh Yenn?” the drunken ginger laughed, wobbling to her feet.
     
    The athletic Merigold stood with a fat girl grunt, gravid belly forming a roll as she stood. It took the ** a moment to find Yennefer’s traveling bag, sorting through the magical sack for the items she needed while munching on another turkey drumstick. Yennefer meanwhile, pushed herself shakily to her hands and knees, engorged stomach just barely failing to touch the couch’s plush velvet. 
     
    “Hold, ugh come on, one sec. Gotta get, come on, stupid harness, I know I’ve gotten fat but how skinny were you when you last wore it,” the plump redhead muttered clumsily getting into the black leather harness, its straps still set for a slender Yennefer from many pounds and years ago, “Okay, last hole but it should last…”
     
    “Come on, I’m dripping and...that’s not the ball gag,” Yennefer said, squinting at the untouched, virginally white cream icing of a red velvet cake placed before her.
     
    “I want you fatter. I want this ass, even bigger, plumper and rounder. You’re getting, *urp*, cellulite and I want more of it,” Triss ordered.
     
    “Fuck, cellulite? Shit, let me see, i can’t have *SMACK!* OWW Fuck Triss, what the hell!?” Yenn gasped over the crack of the horse whip on her ass.
     
    “You *hic* said you wanted punished,” Triss demanded, giving a gentler smack on Yennefer’s soft lower thigh, “and I’m gonna do it in ways that stick. Now hold on, I’ve got to get this phallus working…”
     
    “Alright, I’ll eat. Just put it in, it’ll do the reeeesssssttt-ohhhhhhhhhmyyyyyyggooooooodddsss,” Yennefer moaned, eyes going back into her head as the strap on plunged into her.
     
    A marvel of magical engineering, the rubbery phallus began rapidly vibrating as it plunged into Yennefer’s sopping wet slit. Triss gave a small moan of her own as the portion plunged into her own vulva shook and then, after watching the jiggles shoot across Yennefer’s plump buns and soft back, pulled out and gave a not so gentle smack to Yennefer’s ass.
     
    “Only good fatties get the thrust, and good fatties eat. Do you want to be a good fatty?” Triss asked, licking her lips for a reason that had nothing to do with food.
     
    Yennefer took a deep breath. Famously beautiful and famously proud, being suddenly cast as the submissive and force fed while having her recent weight gain thrown in her face was an odd turn...one that left her dripping wet.
     
    “I want to be a good fatty, I’ll eat, just put it in me,” Yennefer gasped, thrusting her face into the rich icing of the cake.
     
    The rich red velvet tasted far too good, its deliciousness compounding when the phallus slid back home. She moaned and groaned into the cake, trying not to choke and to keep her trembling arms supporting her as Triss slowly thrust in and out, building speed and taking more depth every minute. The sorceress began telekinetically squeezing her own nipples and the redhead’s as well, the magical force making both sets of engorged breast jiggle and hardened with just enough force. Just as Triss leaned in and grabbed her long black hair, pulling it like a reign as she slowly smacked the crop against her hips. Yennefer’s eyes widened, her back arching and she realized she could feel Triss’ bloated belly pressing over her ass.
     
    “Come on fatty, don’t go yet. If you can finish the cake before you come, I’ll get you another one,” Triss promised, breath coming faster as her stamina fell, weakened legs complaining of cramps from the motion, “we know that’s what you want, you fatass. God you’ve got so many stretchmarks…”
     
    “Ummmmfffffmunch,” was the only sound Yennefer could make, the woman trying not to swallow cake into her lungs while her head was submerged in cake.
     
    As she started to cum, fast and hard, Yennefer could only hope that this didn’t awaken anything in her...but knew that was a very vain hope...
  15. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Love bellies in Weight Gain Story Lines (TV & Movies)   
    Celebrities eating only fast food for 3 weeks. İ haven't whatched it yet but there is probably weight gain.
  16. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Batman76 in The Sorceress' Stress Snacking   
    Chapter 2: Novigrad
     
    “Hold there girl, what’s a young thing like you doing out so early?,” a city guard sergeant said, his sour breath wafting from between his yellow teeth, his lantern held up to show a pock marked face, “Hold on, you look familiar…”
     
    Yennfer took a deep breath of foggy pre-dawn air before speaking, “Really?”
     
    The sorceress gave a small, annoyed sigh as the guard patrol looked her over. Once, a woman of her wealth and rank would have had the city watch bowing before her. If not for the vast wealth Yennefer possessed, equal to at least a Baroness, than for her ability to kill an entire infantry company with a snap of her fingers. 
     
    But things changed.
     
    “Yeah you look sort of like,” the guard leered, holding up a lantern, “A s-”
     
    Yennefer could have splattered the man’s brains across the damp city street, but that would have left another six spearmen to deal with. She could have killed all of them too, but then there would be hiding the bodies and dealing with anyone who had overheard their deaths. Ugh, anarchy was so annoying.
     
    So Yennefer simply made the man’s brain segue into a state of extreme gullibility.
     
    “A saintly young matron, about her innocent business,” Yennefer finished for the sergeant, who simply nodded and let her pass by.
     
    The short brunette stalked on, her high heels clicking on slick pavers. She’d been in the city of Novigrad for almost a whole week, endless hours of fruitless searching for her daughter Ciri. Occasional rumors of an ashen haired woman had sprung up, but nothing concrete and Yennefer didn’t even haven any leads because she couldn’t find Triss either! The only thing she’d learned was that the Cult of the Eternal Fire, long an annoying and intolerant force in Northern Politics, had launched a soft coup of the city. At the goading of the insane King of Redania, every mage in the city was being hunted down and arrested. Wizards were being given the choice, at knife point, to work for the King, but any sorceress was being put to torture and the stake immediately. 
     
    Trying to find Ciri in this chaos was like trying to find a needle in a burning haystack. As was finding her friend Triss…
     
    “Damn it, Merigold, where the hell are you?” the sorceress asked herself, passing by a wanted poster of the other sorceress’ refined features.
     
    Magic made finding anyone difficult. Yennefer herself was disguised with an illusion that made anyone who saw her see a plain young woman with brown hair and a plump figure, wearing the semi-expensive clothes of a merchant’s wife. Not one of the fairest women in the world with long mane of startling raven curls, purple eyes in a perfect face and a very small and well disguised weight gain. It was a common disguise for magic users on the run, but given that her current target Triss was also a sorceress, a problem too.
     
    “I could be, *munch* half a pace from her and not see her,” Yennefer sighed, idly munching on a cookie from her the endless supply of her belt pouch.
     
    Seven days of false leads and no success had made the Sorceress anxious which made her hungry. Her hand had been constantly moving from her belt to her mouth, an endless pilgrimage delivering faithful sweets to the cathedral of her pearly teeth. Her stomach was on the verge of uncomfortably full, where it had been since she’d entered the city gates, pressing tight against her new corset. Yennefer had upgraded her wardrobe since her little embarrassment in front of Geralt, necessary as she now weighed 127lbs instead of a mere 110…or had weighed that upon leaving Vizima. Thoughts of how her new clothes were just as snug as her old ones had been were immediately dismissed, it wasn’t like she could have gotten...fatter. Being a little plump was bad enough, but the signs of a worse condition were there.
     
    Yennefer had been eating quite heavily at the inns she'd been staying at, the meeting with Geralt had made her both horny and extra antsy and she was covering both with food. While she'd been walking a bit, she'd been eating even more, the bit of exercise only serving to increase her appetite. She'd been avoiding looking at herself naked if she could help it, but the vain sorceress was feeling all the tell tale signs of growing larger.
     
    Her face felt puffy, the cheeks jiggling when she chewed or spoke and when she looked anything but straight ahead, there was a ...fold under her chin. Whenever she put on makeup she saw less cheekbone and jawline than she had before, her face rounding out. The rest of her body was increasing as well: her thighs were rubbing whenever she walked and her belly was bulging out past her breasts when released from her corset. Her rear end had begun to devour all of her underwear to an uncomfortable degree and the swell of her bust and belly were blocking her feet from view. Despite the illusions she wore and the corsetry she now wouldn't be seen without, Yennefer wasn't taking the latest part of the gain well.
     
    The sorceress felt like a pregnant bear wearing a circus tent. Yennefer was well aware that she wasn’t that fat, but she was certainly no longer thin. Gods, she might even be called...plump. Each time she inhaled, she could feel her larger breasts heave against her dress and every time she exhaled she could feel her stomach press against her corset, begging for release. Just as every step brought her thighs rubbing together and her butt shaking, her rear end having developed a seeming mind of its own! She'd yet to measure, but Yennefer was fairly certain her hips were now wider than her shoulders, a very worrying sign indeed.
     
    She felt like a pregnant bear wearing a circus tent. Yennefer was well aware that she wasn’t that fat, but to be so different than her normal perfection made her feel righteous rage with every breath. Each time she inhaled, she could feel her larger breasts heave against her dress and every time she exhaled she could feel her stomach press against her belt.
     
    “I need to get this under control...and to find Triss,” the sorceress sighed, her cloak swishing through a trendy neighborhood.
     
    Her friend and rival had lived here, Triss’ wealth as an advisor to King Foltest of Temeria letting her buy a decent mansion in the rich district. Unfortunately that hadn’t been enough to fend off the witch hunters when the attack had come, most of the house a burned out wreck. Yennefer opened her second sight, seeing where Triss had let loose with fire balls to cover her escape and where she hadn’t been able too. The witch hunters had had a cache of magic blocking, dimeretium bombs at hand, she could feel the nullified areas where they’d gone off, still blocked to magic.
     
    “Most inconsiderate and annoying,” the sorceress sighed, checking no one was watching and approaching the wall around the manor.
     
    The gate was padlocked and the wall was only six feet high, but most of the perimeter was still blocked to magic weeks after the bomb had gone off. Yennefer managed to hop up and catch the edge of the wall with her gloved hands, boots scrambling at the brick work. She pulled up with all her might, but the sorceress was a dainty woman, fine boned and svelte...or had been svelte. Being stuck in the court of the Nilfgardian emperor hadn’t done her muscle tone any favor and her snug corset limited her flexibility. Even without an extra near twenty pounds she’d have found the leap hard, but with it well…
     
    *RIP*
     
    “No,” Yennefer said as she lay across the top of the wall, feeling the cool air of the spring night touch her bum.
     
    Her pants. She’d ripped her pants in half at the ass and now her cheeks were hanging in the breeze!
     
    “You hear that?” a voice thick with a street accent demanded from beneath her.
     
    “Hear what, ya tosser?” another asked.
     
    Yennefer looked down, seeing two mangy looking men with a sack on the inside of the wall. Her eyebrow raised up quizicly, that sack looked heavy and she had a guess it contained some of Triss possessions that the Witch Hunters had missed. Silently, she tucked her legs and cloak under herself and hopped down from the wall.
     
    “Hear a very perturbed woman wondering where you got that,” the slightly out of breath sorceress asked.
     
    One of the men squawked in alarm, swinging the heavy bag of loot at her head. Yennefer might not have been able to do a single pull up but her reflexes were fast, she ducked beneath the swing and felt it woosh by overhead...just as she felt her pants rip further. Knowing that she was still in the residual anti-magic field, the brunette didn’t even bother with a spell. Instead she pulled out the rondel dagger she wore on her belt, a foot of spiked steel made to pierce a knight’s helmet and rammed its testicle shaped pommel into her attacker’s balls.
     
    “I used to do that on annoying farm boys as a girl, I’m surprised it still works,” Yen smiled, rewarding herself with a cookie and not even thinking of the correlation between the treat in her mouth and the split in her pants.
    “What do you want?” the other man squawked in fear, eying the razor sharp knife in Yennefer’s hand, “we’re just honest thieves! We pay our dues to the Big Four bosses like everyone else!”
     
    “What I *munch* want? I’ll tell you what I want, I want you to drop the bag before I start slicing off parts you don’t really need,” Yennefer threatened, stepping from the anti-magic field and casting a small illusion, making her 5’1 height look like seven feet, “spill the bag and back away, after I take what I need you can have the rest.”
     
    The bag was promptly dumped out on the ground, the thieves backing away. Yennefer bent, feeling her belly pinch against her corset, and sorted through the objects. A small bag of coins, some candle sticks, nothing personal that Triss would have frequently touched until...
     
    “Aha,” Yennefer smiled, finding a small ring studded with an emerald, “Triss’ nipple ring. Shame that she left it, but not for me...”
     
    Leaving the thieves to their devices, the sorceress was soon moving. Once alone, she cast a  spell upon the ring, scrying out the location of its owner. Triss had a very full bust, one that needed support and the gravity weakening affect of the ring kept the E cup redhead looking pert. A small arrow appeared in Yennefer’s vision, pointing her on towards Triss’ location.
     
    “Ah, she’s to the east, out of the city walls. Smart girl,” Yennefer smiled, as an errant gust of wind lifted her cloak.
     
    It was spring still and chill, the frigid touch raising goose pimples across the ivory skin of her backside. Yennefer’s triumphant smile faded at the reminder of her humiliating weight gain, fading immediately into a frown. She pulled her glove off of her hand, pulling her cloak down and putting her fingers to her butt.
     
    “Was it always that big...or that soft,” Yennefer thought to herself, barely resisting an urge to pinch it, “ugh, I’m going to lose every ounce damn it, every ounce!”
     
    Another small spell was cast, the split cheeks of her pants knitting back together on their own accord. Yennefer felt the pinch though, the fabric squeezing her soft tummy tight, a tiny roll of soft white fat poofing over her waistband.
     
    ‘This is...intolerable!” she seethed, walking carefully towards where her scrying spell guided.
     
    …..
     
    Two hours later, a foot sore Yennefer squatted in a set of decorative bushes.
     
    She was sweaty and tired, her hair plastered to her forehead. Her thighs hurt and her breath was still coming faster than normal, her time of indolence at the Nilfgardian court having seriously sapped her stamina. She had, out of purely temporary convenience of course, taken off her restraining corset, undone her belt and the top buttons on her pants to stop them from pinching so. A red mark across her soft stomach, which bulged outwards to an alarming degree.
     
    Had a mirror been available, Yennefer would have realized she looked quite pregnant. Her belly was a heavy dome that stuck out past her breasts, something that had never happened before. While turgid with far too many sweets, the tummy was alarmingly soft, testament to the pounds piling up around her mid section. Yennefer had a hand unconsciously massaging it, fingers pinching and fondling the thickening layer of fat while she spied out her target.
     
    Across from her was a large, palatial estate. The mansion of a Viscountess at least, surrounded by manicured lawns, a hedge maze and pools. It worried Yennefer to see it, because the mansion was far from Novigrad’s walls and yet Triss was certainly there. The other sorceress would have teleported away if she’d gotten so far from the city, Yennefer was sure, so for her to be still within the Eternal Fire’s reach, she must have been held against her will. 
     
    “She better be being held captive by a thousand fucking witch hunters,” Yennefer huffed, setting her shoulder bag down on the forest floor beside her.
     
    She rummaged in it, the enchanted bag holding a small house’ worth of possessions and pulled out a well made telescope. She plied it across the estate, falling to see any guards beyond some liveried footmen at the main gates. A puzzled frown crossed Yennefer’s face at the lack of security.
     
    “This doesn’t seem to be any sort of prison, so why is she hiding out here…,” Yennefer muttered to herself, “Triss why aren’t you burning down half the city you...you fucking trollop!”
     
    A hiss escaped her soft pink lips as her scope settled on the other sorceress, Triss Merigold in the self. Wearing a soft, fluffy green robe, Triss was leaving a small side door of the mansion and approaching one of the long fountain pools as if she was on a vacation. Yennefer glared, thinking of some very real curse to use, only to be interrupted by Triss beginning to undo her robe.
     
    “I should...go see her,” Yennefer stammered to herself, watching Triss begin to undress, “I shouldn’t spy…”
     
    The brunette had had a long list of lovers, mostly male but with a fair number of other women as well. And she’d bathed bare with Triss in bath houses as well, so it wasn’t as if she was some blushing virgin. But the tender scene made her mouth dry and her puss damp, her eye locked upon the other sorceress’ sunkissed body.
     
    Triss was Yennefer’s polar opposite. Sunkissed, freckled and tan while Yen was white as snow, tall where Yennefer was short, athletically muscular while Yen was skinny, busty while Yennefer was small chested. But as the green robe hit the ground to reveal Triss’ whole body, Yennefer’s gave a sharp intake of breath.
     
    “Gods and ghosts, she got fat!” Yennefer giggled to herself, unthinkingly eating yet another cookie, “she’s practically rolly polly!”
     
    An exaggeration but not too much of one. Like Yennefer herself, Triss’ perfect, magically made physique was now bearing a bit of excess softness. The ginger’s taut abdominals were bulging outwards, softened by sloth and gluttony into the start of a little ** belly. When Triss stepped into the pool, small rolls formed across her stomach, not a hint of muscle to be seen. Her thigh gap had filled in too, her runner’s legs having lost their tone and turned chubby. 
     
    “Looks like you should have kept a better eye on those nipple rings, Triss,” Yennefer giggled to herself, pulling yet another cookie from her belt pouch, “you’re starting to sag!”
     
    Triss had always been busty, but the fat she’d gained had made her prime assets grow considerably. Enough that her big tear drops were looking a bit floppy, her shoulders curling inwards and the heavy breasts plunging towards her rounded stomach. Despite her centenarian age, Yennefer couldn’t help but feel some girlish glee. Triss was one of her, if not her best friend and the redhead sleeping with her all but husband hurt, a sting she was reminded of every day. To see the fit ginger looking padded and plump sent a thrill through Yennefer’s very soul, spiteful as it was.
     
    “Ha, if Geralt could see her now he’d, well...he wasn’t lying when he said I looked good with,” Yennefer trailed off, not wanting to mention her own weigh gain, even if Geralt liking it had soothed her spirits.
     
    Looking over at Triss, who was starting to swim in the long pool, Yennefer had to guess that her Witcher lover would like Triss at this size too. She did look good, soft and plump and exquisite to the touch, if different, Yennefer had to admit. She had to bet that Triss would jiggle now if she prodded her, why she’d probably vibrate if say, she were orgasming...
     
    A small prod at her belly made the sorceress look down, seeing her own hand sliding into her very snug pants. The sorceress realized she was breathing heavily, face flush and nipples clear to see through her blouse. Swallowing, she stood up and collapsed her scope.
     
    “Ugh, I need to have sex before I go mad,” Yennefer admitted to herself, “although perhaps it’s too late. Seriously, touching myself to the thought of Triss gaining weight, what is wrong with me?My daughter is still missing and the world is at war, I need to focus.”
     
    She went to walk towards the estate, before realizing her pants were still undone. The brunette enchantress went to snap them shut, only to find that the button was not going to close. She tugged once more and gingerly looked down only to find it blocked by an extremely bloated belly, pale skin turgid to the touch. The cookie box on her belt had its lid open, every crumb of its enchanted interior picked clean.
     
    “I could have sworn that box was full when I kneeled down,” the bloated mage muttered to herself, “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to carry it where I can access it so easily…and maybe I should change into something looser and put the corset back on. I don’t want Triss to think I’ve gone soft…”
     
    …..
     
    Triss Merigold burst from the water, droplets cascading off of her, as if she was a mermaid in a sailor’s dream.
     
    The tall, red haired mage took a deep breath, her lungs complaining of the exertion and demanding she rest. Ignoring her bodies demand, Triss kicked off the stone wall of the decorative pool and swam on. Keeping up the exercise wasn’t pleasant, every muscle from her calves to her wrists was aching for more air, but the motion reminded the famously fair sorceress why she should keep going.
     
    Every kick of her long thighs made the thickened stems rub together and made her increased butt jiggle. As she slowly exhaled during her swim, her stomach bulged outwards. When she swung her arms, her now heavy bust wobbled in a way that seemed almost insulting.
     
    “The wobbling is enough to make me want to keep going, but why is it never enough to make me skip dessert?” the sorceress demanded of herself, keeping her pace as well as she could.
     
    For what seemed a long while, Triss swam laps. But even a sorceress’ will power wasn’t enough to forever fight against an out of shape body and Triss had to at last grab onto the pool’s edge. She rested there, letting her body float and head lay upon the marble edge and cursing herself. 
     
    Triss had let herself get full on fat. Her thighs touched, her belly bulged, her breasts had gone floppy, even her face was sprouting a double chin. It was her own fault of course but also not. It had been predictably foolish for her to throw endless pies, cakes and sweets into the bottomless pit of rejection and grief. She’d known damn well that she was putting on weight, feeling folds where before there’d been nothing, the tightening of clothes and the extra jiggles when she moved. But she’d told herself she’d prepare a weight loss amulet soon enough, just after whatever snack she was preparing and then, after losing her enchanting gear in the flight from her own home, why she’d kept eating. Until she’d popped the button of a borrowed garment from a woman she thought of as plump the night before and realized that a serious change needed to be made. She was a sorceress, a full sixty years old despite her maiden’s figure, and should have known better than to not only moon after a man but to do so via overeating!
     
    But how could she not? Triss considered her lover, ex-lover?, Geralt. Not just the lean muscle and sharp features, but the core of kindness under the cynicism, the predator's grace turned to goodness. Gods she was an idiot falling in love with him, especially when there’d always been a chance Yennefer could return. A single letter had been enough to pull him from Triss’ side, leaving the sorceress alone with several excellent bakeries to drown her grief as he ran off to Yennefer.
     
     Yennefer, her best friend, the delicate flower concealing a storm, the woman who drew eyes and hearts like a lodestone drew iron filings. Yennefer with her tiny waist and taut butt and narrow thighs, girlish and perfect with those oh so kissable lips. The lips that Triss, on a tipsy midwinter’s evening, had once planted a kiss on…
     
    “I see you’re pushing yourself hard recently,” Yennefer’s voice asked unexpectedly.
     
    Merigold startled up, standing in chest deep water to see her friend and rival sitting prettily upon a ledge.
     
    “Y-Yennefer!” Triss stammered, water dripping off of her.
     
    “In the flesh,” the other sorceress smiled, “Unless you know someone else who looks like me.”
     
    She looked absolutely perfect. Not a lock of her raven curls was out of place and her ivory skin was powdered and clean. A freshly pressed black skirt gave a glimpse of pale thighs in lacy stockings and a striped, white bodice showed off a trim waistline and the high, pert arc of her bust. Huge violet eyes stared down her long nose, a half smile going up to meet her beauty mark.
     
    Complicated emotions danced in Triss’ soul. This was her friend, a woman who she hadn’t seen for years, who’d been dying at their last encounter. Seeing her brought great happiness...but then it also brought anger and jealousy. Geralt had abandoned her and gone running at a mere letter from Yennefer, as if throwing all of what they’d gone through out with the garbage. And there was shame, for while soft living and grief eating had made Triss fatten up, Yennefer looked perfect…
     
    Although, had her boobs always been so big? And she was sittng awfully straight…
     
    “Unless you’re a doppler with a poor sense of humor, no...but what are you doing here? Novigrad is a death sentence for magicians, especially sorceresses!” Triss said, stepping out of the pool.
     
    Before she’d done so of course, Triss sucked her stomach in as far as she could. Wrapping a towel around her middle and finding it didn’t quite meet despite the temporary reduction of her waistline. Subduing a frown, for admitting that she’d plumped up was as bad as plumping up in the first place, Triss instead dried herself off. She felt herself jiggle and wiggle, small rolls forming as she bent over to dry her thighs and her breasts swung in a way that made her back twinge. The weight she’d packed on over the last month had made the tall ginger extra top heavy, while her weakened muscles made her twinge if she didn’t have enough support.
     
    “I’ve heard, but I manage to keep my head down,” Yennefer said with a small smile, “but I’m here looking for someone…”
     
    Triss used some telekinesis to lift up her robe rather than bend over and get it. But she didn’t miss that when Yennefer smiled, there was a small bulge of...fat. Fat under her chin. In fact...her whole face really was softer! And her eyes were...was Yen staring at her tits?
     
    “If it’s Geralt, well, the last time I saw him was months ago, right after he got your letter saying you were back. We haven’t spoken since,” Triss said, unable to keep some bitterness from her voice as she put the robe back on.
     
    “Well, no. I know where Geralt is, roughly. I’m looking for Ciri,” the older sorceress admitted, standing up herself.
     
    Triss raised an eyebrow of her own.
     
    Ciri might have been Geralt’s and Yennefer’s adopted daughter, but the runaway Princess, blessed or perhaps cursed with the powers of the elder blood, meant the world to Triss. She viewed her as a little sister, someone to look after and guide. Her being in any sort of threat, which she would be if she was back on this sphere, was an immediate call to arms...also, Yennefer had sat up awfully stiffly. As if she was wearing a corset, which the tiny waisted brunette had never done before…
     
    “In that case, if there’s anything I can do to help you, I will,” Triss said without hesitation.
     
    “Have you seen her? Is she in the city?” Yennefer asked again, concern rising, the raven haired seductress fading away to the concerned mother.
     
    That was what gave Yennefer a special place in Triss’ heart. Many a sorceress was catty and cruel, but with Yennefer, well the bitch had a well hidden heart of gold that in some ways showed brighter than Triss’ own.
     
    “I haven’t. I heard rumors but I try to limit entering the city as much as I can, for very obvious reasons. Since the anti-mage edicts were put in place and I barely escaped with my life, I’ve been hiding out here which isn’t exactly in tune with the urban area,” Triss explained buttoning up her robe, noticing Yennefer’s eyes following her hands, “this is the Vegelbud estate. The Lady of the house is sympathetic to our cause and she offered me refuge, I’ve been disguising myself as her daughter who ran off to Kovir just before I arrived begging refuge.”
     
    The robe was borrowed and fitted for someone not nearly as well endowed as Triss. As an experiment she left her breasts hanging out, the now heavy orbs and their plentiful freckles gleaming in the sun. A faint blush spread across Yennefer’s cheeks, which were definitely softer Triss realized. It took the brunette a moment to respond, Yennefer pulling of all things a cookie from a box on her belt to cover her words.
     
    “Damn, I’ve not got a single lead on her. I’d hoped you’d have known something of her presence,” Yennefer sighed, looking Triss in the face, purple eyes occasionally flickering downwards, “in that case, I won’t trouble you any longer…”
     
    The other woman turned to go, in doing so showing Triss her back. Yennefer’s skirt was less loose than it appeared, morning dew having effectively glued the black silk to the enchantress’ cheeks. Her rear end was certainly wider and bigger and rounder and softer and...Gods, was it lower? Yen’s butt had gone from girlish to very womanly and Triss found her own face going red.
     
    From the excitement of seeing her rival looking less than her best...and a strong desire to squeeze that jiggly ass and see how soft it was. It was ridiculous, Triss had had female lovers and each time they’d been either trim noble girls or other sorceresses, all slender and lithe. She’d long thought Yennefer extremely attractive but somehow Yennefer being wider and softer was...even better than her being lean.
     
    “Wait,” Triss spoke, stepping up to grab Yennefer’s shoulder.
     
    Closer up, Triss realized that the shorter woman’s face was about at her cleavage height, Yen’s long nose an inch from her breasts. Both women were beat red at the realization, Triss stepping back and covering up as best she could, noticing herself that Yennefer’s small bust had grown prominent itself, both from size and she guessed corsetry.
     
    “I may not know where Ciri had been, but I have an idea on who would. It won’t be pleasant though, so...how about we eat lunch first,” Triss offered with a smile.
     
    “Lunch...I’m, well I have eaten a bit today,” Yennefer said, more bashfully than Triss had ever heard her.
     
    “Oh, don’t worry. The food here is to die for,” Triss assured her.
  17. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to DanishFan87 in Marvel´s Agent Carter (WG) Story   
    Note before reading the chapter, if you have not watched Avengers Endgame yet, do not read this because it has spoilers in it.
    Also its not the most put together chapter of the story, kinda fell out of rythm I guess.
    Chapter 11
    Agent Thompson managed to follow Dottie Underwood after she made a break for it, Thompson followed Dottie all the way to south east of LA near Palm Springs where Dottie walked into an abandoned warehouse very near the San Andreas fault line.
    Agent Thompson waited for backup to arrive before entering, Chief Carter had also arrived, Agent Thompson, what do you make of this, do you think Dottie is alone in there or how do you asses the situation”.
    “No I don´t think Dottie is alone in there, the security around the place suggests something big or important is going on in there, there are 3 armed security guards at each side of the building, so I suggest we flank them from here and here so they wont see us coming, then we ram down the door with our biggest truck, now I know we are going in blind, so we have to have as many agents as possible on this attack.
    “Good idea and plan Thompson”.
    The mission went ahead and SHIELD got thru and into the warehouse.
    “Hold it right there Dottie, hands up” Peggy Carter yelled at Dottie Underwood who was standing near a lot of monitors and machines.
    “Well nice of you to join Peggy, just in time for the big boom of a finale.
    “Boom?, what are you planning Dottie?” well the simple version is we are going to blow it all up with a nuclear bomb for every 30 miles connected along the San Andreas fault line, and more or less destroy most of California and send it In the ocean”
    “Oh and as I mentioned its time” as Dottie pressed the button that initiates the process. “So no idea in arresting us Peggy, we will all get blown sky high in 5 minutes, or well most anyway, we do have helicopters in the other side of the building”.
    Peggy asked SHIELDS bomb experts if there was a way to stop the process, they suggested there might be a kill switch somewhere on the way down the cliff to the first bomb, a kind of handle, but typically it would either take a really really strong person and a lot of pressure to move it”.
    Peggy looked around and saw nobody with the suggested amount of strength, so she decided, “Alright I´ll do it” “You can´t be serious Peggy” Agents Sousa and Thompson said in unison.
    “Oh I mean it all right, there´s no body strong enough here to move it, but I have it on good authority that I will be able to put the most pressure on by simply being the heaviest here and by hanging on the handle”.
    “Well I can´t disagree with that statement Chief so go ahead” remarked Agent Thompson, while Agent Sousa protested again. “No I´m not buying it Peggy, you can´t go thru with this” There is no other way, I have to try Daniel”. Peggy said softly as she began climbing down a long long latter.
     Peggy put both hands on the handle and let go of the latter and pulled the handle down with all her weight as she was hanging, the handle moved slowly but surely and the bombs where shut down with 36 seconds to spare.
    Dottie and the rest of the Hydra gang were arrested and put in costudy.
    1 week later at the SHIELD facility in LA
    Agent Sousa walks into Chief Carter’s office with a letter in hand.
    “I don´t really know how to say this Peggy, but here is my letter of resignation!.
    Peggy´s eyes widened, “What do you mean by letter of resignation Daniel, why would you do that”.
    “Well the short story is that I´ve gotten an offer I can´t say no to from the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley”.
    “And you didn´t figure to discuss it with me?!
    “Yeah I know it’s not fair and by me taking this job that also means we are thru”.
    “You bet we are thru, I really expected you to be more open about this kinda decision”.
    “I know Peggy and I´m sorry”.
    Peggy took a breath and ended the conversation with “Agent Sousa, I wish you the best in your future endeavors in Langley”. “Thanks Peggy and SHIELD are in great hands with your involvement.
    July 1970 in Upstate New York
    Captain America comes back in time to deliver back one of the infinity stones in the events after Endgame, but decides to stay and get together with Peggy Carter, permanently this time, to his surprise and as a welcome surprise at that, Peggy is a lot heavier than he is now. Peggy at this time is 310 lbs at 5´7.
    Cap will lift Peggy up,
    “Set me down Steve, I don´t want you to throw your back out”.
    Smugly Cap mentions “You forget Peggy, that I´m Captain America, so you can´t become too big for me to handle”.
    The End.
  18. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to gggg in Ginny's Realization - a Harry Potter WG fanfic   
    Chapter 6: Boy Talk
    "Ginny?"
    Hermione waited patiently outside the door to the girls' dormitory. She had a pressing question to ask Ginny, and she seemed to remember seeing Ginny slip.  Yes, she was sure she'd heard Ginny's voice behind the door as well.
    "Ginny?" Hermione repeated.
    The door suddenly opened, surprising Hermione, and Ginny stumbled out Ginny, one hand on her bulging stomach.  And so, Hermione noticed with a funny look, did Harry, right behind her.
    "Oh... sorry Hermione, just helping Ginny with some... stuff," said Harry quickly, and walked quickly away towards the common room.
    "Ginny," whispered Hermione, "what was that?"
    "Don't—burp—worry about it," said Ginny with a belch, one hand still laying atop her globe of a stomach, which looked absolutely stuffed to the brim.
    "Is that... chocolate frosting?" said Hermione quizzically, noticing a smear and some crumbs around Ginny's lips.
    "Oh... all right," sighed Ginny, "but don't tell anyone. Harry likes to watch me... eat."
    Hermione's eyes widened as she put the scene together.  "He likes to... in that way?"
    Ginny's face reddened to match her hair.  "Yes, he likes—burp—to watch when I pig out, and—burrrrp—oh dear," she said, clutching her gut and letting out a long sigh.
    "Are you all right?" said Hermione nervously. "Did he... did he make you eat too much?"
    "No no, he doesn't make me eat anything... he just knows I like to pig out on snacks, and he likes to watch... it's my—burp—fault for overdoing it this time," said Ginny. "I suppose I'd better slow down."
    Hermione looked carefully over Ginny's body, and tried to avoid her goodie-two-shoes instinct to be a little repulsed.  She saw Ginny getting dressed most mornings, so her ample size wasn't much of a surprise, but now, stuffed into her Christmas sweater with a good amount of pale gut poking out the bottom and smears of cake on her mouth, Ginny looked even a tad bigger than she did just recently at Christmas. Her prominent, globe-like gut was finally starting to droop slightly under its own weight, and for the first time Ginny's face appeared to be taking on a few pounds—a hint of a double chin was forming on her previously unchanged face. Hermione supposed this was what happened when someone's body realizes it hasn't just been a temporary period of overindulgence, but a new permanent lifestyle.
    "I suppose it's rather embarrassing," muttered Ginny as she breathed heavily and absentmindedly rubbed her belly, "me being this tub of lard now, and you—"
    "No!" interjected Hermione quickly. "Not at all! There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."
    "Oh?" asked Ginny quizzically, as they walked into the empty Gryffindor common room and sat down.
    "Well, I saw how happy you've been since you've let yourself g— I mean, since you've let yourself eat whatever you—"
    "It's okay, you can say I've let myself go," laughed Ginny, her gut bouncing a little with each laugh, "I'm not exactly Quidditch material anymore."
    "And Ron," continued Hermione, "he's also so happy and content with eating whatever he wants, even with that... butterbeer belly of his," she chuckled a little.
    "You can say that again," said Ginny. "People act like I'm the only Weasley with a big appetite."
    "Well, since I noticed all this at Christmas, I've tried to let myself eat a bit... that is, I've been less stingy about what I'm eating, and..."
    "Your teensy little flab from beginning of term is back?" asked Ginny delightedly.
    "A bit," said Hermione, looking around and sheepishly raising her shirt to show an adorable, soft little bulge in her previously toned stomach.
    "It looks great on you!" said Ginny, "What are you worried about?"
    "Well, this is awkward, but... do you suppose..." Hermione gulped. This time it was Hermione's turn to blush. "Do you suppose Ron will like it?"
    Ginny laughed. "I'd almost forgotten you had feelings for that big oaf," she said, causing Hermione to redden even more, "but yes, I'm sure. He might even like you better this way. The whole obsession over skinny witches is mostly just made up to sell sleazy magazines."
    "You don't think it's too much?" asked Hermione, doing her best to pinch an inch of her newly softened stomach.
    Ginny snorted again.  "Hermione, you could put on another five stone and still look great. Trust me. Oh, speak of the devil! I think that's him!"
    As a few laughing male voices approached outside, The Fat Lady swung open to reveal Ron, who lumbered in and plopped down in a chair, and Dean, who grabbed a few things and dashed off to his next class. 
    "Ugh, Snape's a menace," groaned Ron, a tiny sliver of his impressive gut becoming visible as he sighed. "How're you two?"
    "Good," said Ginny, "just chatting about the Transfiguration final."
    "Merlin's beard, that's coming up soon too," cried Ron and buried his face in his hands.
    Just then, Ginny leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "Show him!"
    "What?" mouthed Hermione, confused.
    "Show him!" Ginny hissed, motioning with her eyes down to Hermione's stomach.
    "No!" hissed Hermione back, going red in the face again.
    "What's that?" asked Ron, looking up quizzically.
    "Nothing," said Hermione, "I was just saying I—I need to go to Astronomy," and with a rather abrupt movement she got up and left through the Fat Lady.
    Ron watched carefully and then muttered to Ginny, "I could swear Astronomy wasn't for another half an hour?"
    --
    The following morning, as everyone left for breakfast, Hermione and Ginny found themselves the last ones in the girls' dormitory as they collected their things.
    "Listen," said Ginny, "I have a plan."
    "What?" asked Hermione.
    "I'm going to prove to you that Ron will like you just fine this way.  I know where Harry keeps his Invisibility Cloak—I'll grab that, you hide under it in the common room at noon today when everyone's left for lunch. I'll tell Ron I want to have a conversation."
    "Ginny, you really don't have to—" began Hermione.
    "I know you were raised in one of those Muggle households that emphasized thinness even more than we do," said Ginny knowingly, "and I know it's not easy to let yourself be okay with some extra weight. So I'm going to show you, using your lovebird, that it's fine." Hermione rolled her eyes awkwardly at this.
    --
    Hermione crouched under the cloak, waiting for Ron and Ginny. As she waited, she absentmindedly fondled the stomach roll that covered the button of her pants as she crouched. She gulped, realizing it didn't usually do that, but then took a deep breath as she remembered what Ginny had said.
    The Fat Lady swung open, and in stepped Ron and Ginny, two matching red-headed siblings with rather unwieldy guts leading the way in front of them. Hermione almost giggled—that was somehow kind of cute.
    "All right, what is it Gin? I'm not staying more than a few minutes, I'm starving," said Ron.
    "Well, I have a friend that's rather... interested in you," began Ginny.
    "Oh yeah?" said Ron, swelling up just a little with pride.
    "Yeah, and here's the thing... she's putting on a bit of weight, and she's worried that you won't like her as much."
    "'Ow much?" said Ron, munching on a bag of pumpkin pasties he'd brought along. "Like..." he motioned back and forth to Ginny's stomach and his own.
    "No, not that much!" giggled Ginny. "She's much thinner and is just getting a little bit of a belly."
    "'Course, why would I care?" said Ron. "Honestly, probably better that way. Means she's not stingy about eating."
    Ginny threw a knowing glance to where she knew Hermione was crouching under the cloak, and Hermione gulped silently and smiled.
    "Dunno what all the fuss about skinny girls is, anyway.  You looked like a gust of wind could snap you in half, back in first year," he said, motioning to Ginny's body. "'Course, you've rather blown up since then," he said, trying to suppress a grin.
    Ginny hit him in the arm. "Look at yourself, arsehole!" she said, also grinning a bit, and pulled up Ron's shirt to expose his large, wide gut, which was even fatter now than Hermione had imagined it under his robes. Strangely, she didn't mind it one bit.
    "At least it matches my body!" said Ron, racing to pull up Ginny's shirt. "Look at this big thing sticking out like a sore thumb!  Looks like someone just slapped it on there from someone else!  Actually," he said, surveying Ginny's newly developing spare tire, double chin, and thickening legs, "I s'pose you've just gotten fat all around."
    Ginny hit him again, and he burst out laughing as he stood up to leave.  "Nah, honest Gin, I wouldn't mind a body like that one bit. Provided it's not on you," he said. "And provided this lucky lady is fine with this ol' thing," he said, giving his own gut a slap and letting out a belch that was rather deeper and more disgusting than Ginny's cuter ones. "Speaking of which, better go fill 'im up, he's starting to rumble." He stepped out of The Fat Lady and headed out, with Ginny close behind.
    Wow, thought Hermione. Ron wouldn't mind me even at Ginny's size? I guess I was wrong about boys. And, she thought with a twinge of a smile, biting her lip, I don't mind "that ol' thing" one bit.
  19. Hot
    xXWWhiteXx got a reaction from Timthemajor in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    I thank you all for such positive comments and I apologize this chapter will likely be a bit of a letdown for you.
    It was supposed to contain much more of Jack and Miranda, but it ended being so long I saw no reason in continuing without posting. I wrote it because, I wanted to try a less detailed, more concentrated form of storytelling - please write what you think about it and if you notice any glaring flaws. Two - I'm a huge fan of Ray-Norr's art and since I started writing I wanted to incorporate some ideas based on it. Hopefully, you won't need to read too deeply into it to notice it.
    I hope that you find this chapter will at least worth glancing at and I promise the next one should have much more of the growing cheerleader and her tattoed nemesis.
     
    ***
     
    Chapter 23: Is…is that Interlude?


     
    Two days later
    XO’s office

    Miranda typed on the console looking for useful data. While Shepard and her team were managing down at Aite, the situation was dangerous, to say the least. There was no telling what else this “Overlord” had in store for them. How this situation had been allowed to happen, was a rabbit hole down which the brunette didn’t want to go into for now.

    The ex-Cerberus heard the door’s opening and grimaced for a second. It was none other than Jack.

    The tattooed woman had an expression clearly stating that she would prefer being anywhere but that office, however the convict kept walking.

    Miranda took a deep breath and assumed as neutral pose as she could force herself.

    “Jack, to what do I owe the pleasure ” asked the operative and her voice almost wasn’t dripping with sarcasm.

    The convict stopped before her desk and crossed her arms with a snort.

    “Bite me, cheerleader. Unless you’re too busy munching on fast food” mocked Jack.

    The brunette felt her temper rising, but refused to take the bait. She stared at the thin woman in silence.

    “…fine bitch. I wanted to talk about what you gave me” begrudgingly explained the bald female.

    “I suspected as much. Sit down and I…”

    “And what the hell, happened last time with Shepard?!” exploded Jack and slammed down her hands on the desk.

    The heavier woman managed to squash her mighty desire to slam the degenerate across the room.

    “Sit down. And then I will answer” said Miranda carefully through her teeth. Jack snorted, but sat down on a nearest chair and crossed her arms.

    “So… what the fuck happened when I was there last time? I thought it was some freaky foreplay, but you clearly got no action. Besides it’s not like you need more food tubby” asked the tattooed woman, still mocking. Miranda closed her eyes for a second, she felt exploding at any second.

    “Do you want an explanation or not? Because I’m perfectly happy sitting here in silence” replayed the brunette. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

    “*tsk*…fine cheerleader, don’t get your panties twisted. I’ll be proper”

    Miranda calmed herself, somewhat, and in short, simple words she explained the operation to further secure Oriana from their father. The operative explained laughs and mockery, but Jack just looked like she just ate a lemon.

    “So you’ve been eating like a pig to help cheerleader junior? But what it got to do with Shepard making you into a balloon?” asked the convict. 

    “To answer the first question – in general, yes. Shepard has been… helping me use the eternity of my stomach capability, which is hard on my own” Miranda explained begrudgingly.

    “You just said, you got a shitload of drugs from Shep’s ex for that” pointed Jack with squinted eyes.

    “Yes, but those can have prolonged and strong effects. There’s no point risking that” replied Miranda with annoyance. She really didn’t want to drag this topic further.

    “So you want to make your daddy angry, but you’re don’t want to fatten this blow-up doll body you got from him. You’re making about as much sense like always, Miranda” commented Jack and snickered.

    The brunette was about to bark something off but stopped herself in track. That degenerate did have a… point(?)

    “*Ahem* For what reason you came in for originally. Because I doubt you wanted about my dietary habits” Miranda changed the subject.

    “I want to know why you, the Illusive Fuck's right hand decided to work for Shepard. I don’t believe that you just suddenly grow conscience” said Jack strongly.

    Miranda didn’t want to explain this, but she did. This time the brunette did receive laughter.

    “…haha…they fucked you. They fucked you good. Haha…”

    Miranda listened to laughter mixed with various profanities for a minute before interrupting.

    “Do you want anything else or can I return to doing something productive?” asked the annoyed operative.

    The bald woman managed to stifle her laugh but still spotted a satisficed, mocking grin.

    “Hell yeah, I do. But I’m gonna get smashed after what I heard. Bye princess” replied Jack and, indeed, in good mood, left the supposed XO.

    Miranda wasn’t in good mood but was relieved that the despicable female was away. The brunette, with the effort(she still wasn’t used to extra plush on her body), bent down to retrieve a bottle of Bourbon. Soon she was sipping from the glass.

    She sat in silence for a minute or so. Despite her dislike for the convict, Miranda was forced to accept that Jack's flaws weren’t entirely her fault.

    After the glass shoved bottom, the operative stood up and activated the mirror. There was one thing, that Jack had said, which kept resurfacing in her mind. 

    She removed the top of the generic Cerberus uniform and looked at her reflection. Despite recent changes, Miranda intellectually knew that she was still about attractive as most women, save for those with the deepest case of fatphobia. 

    The brunette was no one’s slave or puppet her mind was her own. However, she had been painfully reminded that her appearance, which she so diligently maintained was a monument to Henry Lawson's vanity and ego.

    The operative clenched her teeth and frowned. From the hidden compartment, she picked a small container. Inside was a set of various drugs and detailed information’s about them.

    Miranda read it, again, and picked few vials. She checked the hour. Good, the mealtime was approaching.

    The XO glanced down at her swollen breasts. When she had weighted herself the day before Miranda had learned she had passed 250 pound threshold. The operative archived it just within few months, despite her strong reluctance and status as a biotic. Surely, with an improved approach, she could hasten the process.

    You wanted a perfect daughter, father? Oh, I’ll make sure, that by end of this mission you won’t be able to look at me, let alone think reclaiming Oriana


     
    ***


     
    Three days later

    Normandy SR-2, Capitan’s quarters


     
    Tali finished drying herself and carefully put on her suit. She exited the bathroom, disabled the field inside before heavily seating herself on the chair by the desk. The quarian informed Shepard that she was available via omnitool and leaned on the piece of furniture.

    Last days had been horrible, nightmarish even. She, a quarian, had been in a base where a xenophobic, terrorist organization developed a homicidal VI that had been out of control. VI, that had been in control of geths, machines that had almost led her people to extinction.

    Fun times all around.

    After return, the commander had told Tali to go rest while she handled Archer siblings and most sensitive materials. The engineer didn’t know how Shepard managed to continue to function, but at the time she had been too tired to argue.

    Tali sighed and checked the time. A curse followed, she had been asleep for many hours. Not unexpected, but she was angry for her lack of assistance.

    The purple-skinned woman checked the console and realized that “radio” silence had been canceled. She had received several messages, but one caught her attention. A notification from Eristena, apparently Zoma was alive and healthy. But it also mentioned that were certain “developments” concerning her fellow quarian. No details, but the thing was fresh so no surprise there.

    However, Tali felt concerned. She may not know Zoma beyond childhood acquaintance, but the engineer still remembered the software prodigy. Most importantly quarians, especially ones outside Flotilla, ought out to look after each other.

    She checked the time on Nos Astra, luckily it was still the day there.

    At once, Tali prepared an encrypted call to the commando. To be honest, she didn’t expect anything more than a written reply, one wasn’t Liara’s valued employee by having free time.

    But after, just five minutes call connected revealing the stoic asari.

    “I hope I’m not interrupting” said Tali in an apologetic tone. Elristena gave her a weary look.

    “To be honest, I’m thankful for it. While I understand the need for proper documentation, paperwork has never been my forte” relied the muscular asari and rubbed her eyes.

    Tali nodded in understanding, it was a foe even Shepard struggled against.

    “I assume you’re calling to learn about your kinsman. As I wrote she is well, although in a peculiar state. I must admit that case is rather… weird” began Eristena.

    “I thought working for Liara guaranteed the weird part, But what did you mean? Did that asari caused troubled or lied about data?” asked Tali, she was getting worried.

    “No, quite opposite in fact. T'mivus was completely cooperative, if firm in her demands. Admittedly the material provided by her is far better than what we hoped for. Liara and her people are still looking through it, but we can start dismantling Eclipse tomorrow if we want. The weird was the situation with T'mivus and Zoma.” Explained the commando and took a sip from the cup.

    “I think it’s best if I start from the beginning. Just wait for the moment…”

    Tali waited for some time. During that time image on the screen flickered, rotated, and disappeared for a second. Simultaneously, the asari’s face betrayed signs of frustration and concentration.

    At last, the commando successfully started sharing screen.

    “Apologies for the delay. Now, after our previous conversation…”


     
    ***


     
    Five days earlier

    Illium, Nos Astra, Red Spirit company conference room


     
    “… but I must ask why did you go to us? It couldn’t be only about money” Eristena asked the asari sitting opposite to her.

    Her ”guest” was around the commando'ss height, but she had the only fraction of musculature. But Eristena saw signs betraying training and experience, besides a fraction of her musculature, in this case, meant noticeably more than most commando. Cerithia’s skin was dark, almost purple, her face was sparsely adorned with simple white markings that ran on her crest’s segments and chin. She had a pleasant enough face, but with sharp cheekbones giving her a sterner look.

    One more thing, despite being readily a little older than Eristena and just recently archiving stage of a matron, T'mivus looked much older. Some unknown worry was clouding her face.

    “You’re one of many companies I considered. But you keep getting a rep as reliable and less messed up than the rest on this planet. That and I made some inquires that suggest that you possess medical facilities on par with some of the best hospitals. And… we need medical attention.” the matron explained and took a deep breath.

    “I would probably research you longer, but then I saw that quarian, Zorah with you lot. I remembered her from vid’s and Zo said that if she really works with you, Reds cannot be unreasonable”

    Eristena eyes squinted for a second, the matron had already mentioned the need for medical attention, but nothing concrete.

    “I understand. What exactly ails you two, so you need such advanced help?” asked the commando carefully.

    “It’s mostly for Zo, I’m fine really. And... I just want the best for her, cover all my bases” said Cerithia a little too quickly.

    “Yet, you used “we” multiple times now. That, and you promised to disclose everything that may affect operations. If there’s a possibility that you may collapse or are contagious this is such information” the muscular asari said.

    The matron’s face twisted in a grimace.

    “I’m not, my state won't in any way affect you” replied Cerithia with annoyance, but Eristena only stared.

    The matron took a deep breath, closed and exhaled.

    “Ok, listen… I’m ill, but… it’s my head there’s something wrong, not with my body” replied older asari with reluctance, bordering on inability.

    “For the longest time, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t myself, even if it’s obvious now. I… hurt her, not physically… not quite, but that’s why I want to make sure she’s fine, has somebody to take care of her. And sometimes I… still have the same urges to… fuck… you’ll see when we go for her” the matron spit out and looked away.

    Eristena nodded slowly.

    “In what state she is Can we…?”

    “Zo’s fine overall, but she has trouble moving on her own and there may be some leaks in her suit. I had to… adjust it, there were no problems but by then I already moved her to a sterile environment, so it needs to be checked”

    “Of course” replied the commando. Considering the situation she didn’t press further.


     
    ***

    Later


     
    Eristena had to admit with the entrance to the apartment was well hidden. It could easily be an entrance to any garage for the company’s VIP.

    She glanced at her team, it was a human/asari mix of medical workers and technicians with two commandos as protection.

    Well and an entire squad waiting in a dropship as well as few turian snipers. Eristena firmly believed in “better safe than sorry” philology.

    However, the head commando was still wondering about certain demands of the matron. Why she needed so many people, she had requested to double numbers and to take equipment for moving fragile cargo.

    “Can only we three go in, for now. I want to be sure the suit’s fine before we try anything else” said Cerithia pointing at the head technician.

    Eristena agreed, and they followed the matron inside. Indeed first room after the generic hallway was akin to an entrance to a cleanroom. The head commando wasn’t too knowledgeable about the topic, according to human female(?) the equipment was good.

    After passing it, they found themselves in a rather sparsely furnished apartment, where everything was easy to clean.

    “Zo, it’s me. I brought people we talked about” T'mivus said into the depths of the complex. The muscular asari first time heard the matron speak in such a soft tone.

    “Great. Please come in I’m ready” answered a voice, much quieter. Eristena was a bit confused, it was clearly a tone of female quarian, filtered through the helmet, but it was more muffled and deeper than she was accustomed to.

    The matron gestured to follow her began walking and they entered the spacious bedroom.

    There were many observations to be done about the place, starting with an abundance of both full and empty food containers, finishing on a cutting-edge workstation.

    At that moment the attention of two guests was solely focused on the room inhabitant.

    “Holy…”


     
    ***


     
    “Keelah” said Tali looking at the image of the other quarian.

    “Yes, that was our reaction as well” admitted Eristena.


     
    ***


     
    “…shit” whispered the technician. The head commando couldn’t fault her(? Wasn’t voice too deep for a female human).

    The muscular asari had seen many things. When her peers were shaking their asses in various bars, Eristena had been working in various combat groups and roaming the galaxy during many deployments. She still vaguely remembered how quarians looked before they had had to don on their suits.

    However, she had never seen anything like Zoma'Naenn nar Rayya. Eristena saw fat humanoids, mostly some lecherous batarians, but also, although she would never say it out loud, Miss T’Soni who was very much bigger than any four-eyed aliens.

    But this quarian…

    “Hello” the suit-covers mass of flesh said happily and waved them. What followed was a strangelly mesmerizing wobble.

    “Ahem… Miss Naenn, I presume. If you would allow Robert would check the integrity of your suit” replied the commando slowly still not sure what she was seeing.

    “Sure, go ahead, but unplug it first” agreed the quarian(?). The technician approached carefully, again this was the most unusual situation.

    Miss Naenn was enormous, not simply fat, comparable in volume to at least one-third of skycar if not more. She was sitting in some gigantic, custom-made seat, but to Eristena she seemed almost as wide as tall. The biggest was belly, a huge mass of flesh split it into two, tire-like folds, that almost took the entirety of quarian’s lap. Perhaps, the only reason that wasn’t the case was that legs were equally filled with lard.

    What little Eristena could see of Zoma’s thighs were almost as large as her own waistline. That would be alarming if she was an average asari, but the commando was a dedicated bodybuilder, most of her body was often described as twice as wide as that of a majority of asari. And lover parts of quarian’s legs weren’t much smaller, Eistena couldn’t even distinguish the backward curve of the legs, even her feet were swollen with adipose.

    By the Goddess… Zoma’s forearms were larger than their host’s waist, and the matron wasn’t without muscles, either. Her arms, while clearly cut off from bags-like forearms, probably had similar circumference to Eristena’s mighty biceps.

    The smallest, were the quarian's bust that, while clearly swollen, didn’t take a third of the enormous upper fold’s length. Naenn long neck seemed to be completely absorbed by her gargantuan torso and her face was obscured by the helmet. Eristena could only imagine the size of the quarian’s posterior.

    All of this mass was soft. The head commando could see it shaking even from the smallest’s of movements.

    Now the muscular understood the need for increased personnel and the equipment.

    When the first shock passed, she also understood the need for technicians. Eristena knew that quarian’s suits were extremely adjustable, but like everything they had limits. This one betrayed similarities to Miss Zorah’s one, mostly color pallet, however, it shoved sights of many careful adjustments.

    All belts had been removed, same with neck-rings and hard, foot part of the suit that served as boots. There were also, many, many large patches of material in a slightly different shade. It was obvious that originally the suit could hold only a fraction of current Miss Naenn, at best. Even the helmet shoved signs of modification and it seemed bigger than any Eristena had seen, so far.

    “Zo do you need anything? You want me to heat something up before we go? Maybe…?” said the matron in a voice several times softer and kinder than Eristena had heard so far. Her entire demeanor changed accordingly, the commando had a hard time connecting it with hard, if professional, a hardened leader had been dealing so for.

    “Stop fussing Cerithia. Just remember to take the things we packed. You can tell me what you got done” the quarian interrupted casually, the muscular asari was sure that anybody else would receive a cold stare or scolding at least. But T'mivus just pulled the chair and, while the technician did proceed with the examination, explained their deal with a small smile.

    The process was prolonged, but humans looked extremely uncomfortable and oppressive stares from matron weren’t helping. Besides gelatinous consistency of flesh that was being covered by the subject of examination did make the matter tricky.

    Eristena observed everything in silence, if there had been any doubt that that the matron and the large quarian were romantically involved, they disappeared. However, the muscular asari had still no idea whatever is wrong with T'mivus’s mental faculties that could cause Miss Naenn to become as she was now.

    Surprisingly enough, the muscular asari had to admit that the quarian didn’t appear repulsive. Of course, it was still a surprise, but relying on her memory and assuming Zoma didn’t possess any severe disfigurations, the supposed appearance of a female under the suit was strangely alluring.

    As Eristena watched the quarian’s flesh jiggle with every hers and technician movement, the commando realized she wouldn’t mind checking just how soft it was…

    “Boss?”

    The human’s voice interrupted her musings. Eristena nodded to her(him?) in acknowledgment.

    “Everything’s green, it should hold through transportation with no problem. Although it could use a bit of…ehhh… more professional overhaul” said the technician a bit nervously, but their host only nodded.

    “I agree. I know my way with tools, but I’m no engineer” the matron admitted calmly.

    “But you still did a great work with it” Zoma praised and, for a second, Cerithia blushed like a love-struck maiden.

    “So are we ready?” the quarian the head commando.

    “Yes, but we need to establish few things. Miss, can you walk?” inquired Eristena bluntly.

    “Aaahhhh… A little bit I need something or someone to support me” Naenn answered and pointed at the solid-looking railing that went between the quarian’s current location and enormous bed. It also went farther into the apartment.

    “We only have to help her past the pressure door. The hallway connects with the garage through a door wide enough to bring equipment. I would only need your technician’s help to decompress it all” the matron said and motioned her hand around.

    Eristena approved and the matron showed her the passage and controls of the garage. Soon the medics went to the apartment and the commando instructed the technicians to prepare loading equipment.

    It was their sounds of shock that brought the muscular asari attention. She checked the source, Zoma, with medics’ help, managed to squeeze herself to them. Eristena could herd rapid wheezing that came from the helmet. Their patient sounded like she had just run an entire marathon.

    “*huff* I…*huff* need a break*huff*” the enormous quarian managed to say between ragged breaths. Under the matron’s cold gaze all workers complied and helped Miss Naenn to sit down by the wall. Cerithia asked(ordered) them to go back for some packages. The asari/human group returned with almost every member bending under the containers' weight.

    Their host pulled a sealed bottle with sterilized water and put its induction port inside her partner's helmet. The quarian began emptying in fast, slow gulps.

    “*huff*… thanks. Quarians' legs may be great for running, but…uuufffff…not so much for lifting” commented Zoma.

    “I know Zo, you said it a few times already” replied the matriarch with good-natured annoyance.

    “But not to them…” argued the obese woman.

    “Couldn’t you just move biotics to move her” said one of the asari technicians.

    T'mivus gave a pointed look, full of doubt about the maiden’s intelligence.

    “The hallway is far too narrow and do you really believe we could move safely to move somebody in what is essentially a barely holding, pressurized flexible bag with fragile equipment. Why do I ever need to explain it D'biefi?” replied the former Eclipse, shirting her attention to the head commando.

    Eristena shrugged.

    “I’m responsible for my commando, not the curriculum of elementary schools” the muscular asari said. From one side she felt a pang of anger at the mercenary, from another… it was pretty obvious and she did hate when asaris answer to every problem was biotics.

    “Is the equipment ready?” the commando to the head technician. In this case, thanks to facial fur Eristena had no problem determining the human's gender.

    “Yes, we may need to tune it up a bit due to the cargo’s fluidly nature. Also, we’ll need to move Missy to the center for it to work” explained the male human.

    “Miss Naenn?”

    “I’m ready, but getting up will be tricky” informed quarian. Eristena nodded and crouched on the enormous woman's side. Their host mirrored her on the other side.

    The introduction to quarian’s flabby body, even though the suit was an… experience. Muscular asari felt herself sinking into soft and warm mass, trying to get a hold on it. Eristena couldn’t compare it to anything she had experienced before, but it was unexpectedly nice. She almost had to fight the urge to embrace the mountain of the female with her entire body.

    “Ready?” the matron’s voice took back her attention.

    “I think so. On three”

    Soon both asari began to straighten their knees. Eristena had to admit it wasn’t easy, weight wasn’t a problem, but finding a handle, wobbly and shifty nature of her cargo was challenging. Zoma seemed to be trying to help but what was left of her muscles did little difference.

    Finally, the obese woman was upright and medical staff joined in. Together they moved several heavy steps to the designed area. Then technicians started to work and soon Zoma was enveloped in the biotic aura.

    “That feels a bit weird” commented the quarian as her body seemed to move like a calm sea.

    “Sorry Miss, it wasn’t designed for people. If something happens say, we’ll try to adjust” said the human technician.

    “Are we ready?” asked Eristena. The sounds of confirmation filled the air.

    As they walked to their transportation the muscular asari could confirm that, indeed, their patient’s butt cheeks were as humongous as the rest of her. They approached in size that human contraption, that some of her younger colleagues were obsessed over, yoga ball. Although from a quarian of this size Eristena had expected a bigger bottom.

    Still, the muscular asari couldn’t help but gaze at the overabundant flesh, that kept moving even under the eezo-powered device gasp. She wondered how it would feel to have that lovely, meaty rump sit on…

    Eristena blinked and snapped out of the haze. She didn’t know what had come over her and it wasn’t merely a shock from the situation. The asari glanced at her team. Despite claims, that human expressions were almost identical to asaris, she kept struggling with them so she focused on her kind.

    All of them were maidens of various ages, but all of their reactions were intriuding. Some of them were sporting a look of barely hidden disgust, however, in most cases, their moods were ranging from morbid curiosity to whatever caused blushes and lip biting.

    So whatever is happening it’s not just me observed the muscular commando.

    She glanced at the abnormally alluring mass of flesh and made a mental note to call their facility so they could prepare bigger sturdier bedding.


     
    ***


     
    Two hours later

     The medical and research facility under Red Spirt’s company patronage

    After a long period of extensive medical examinations and prodding Zoma'Naenn was placed in a special, sterile room. Here she asked for a meal, unsurprisingly as by then, the personnel had been already hearing frankly terrifying groans coming from the gargantuan middle.

    They were in for another shock, apparently, the multiple large bags that come with quarian contained food, and just enough for that meal. The doctors watched with awe as the woman inhaled the unreal meal and had already asked if they could prepare more for her.

    Zoma was just happily finishing eating the last of her supplies. Despite the fact she understood the gravity of the situation she decided to make the best of it.

    Here, in this fairly miraculously equipped hospital, she was once again free of the suit. The only things covering her body were sheets fashioned as makeshift bra and pants. They didn’t have anything in her size which didn’t surprise the quarian.

    Naenn’s overall body didn’t differ much from Eristena observations, although without the suit it sagged a bit more. Her skin had a dark purple shade, save for bright white lines that ran across it. She didn’t possess any disfiguration or even signs of fighting or abuse, save for clear, healed marks from stretchmarks. Zoma’s face was pleasant and as swollen with fat as the rest of her body.

    The door hissed and, in an outfit usually used when dealing viral dangers, entered an asari. Doctor Penina Lini was a bit of an outsider, she was a matron closer to matriarch than a maiden stage, however in this case it was an advantage. Lini had centuries worth of experience in xeno-psychology and she had been in business when quarians hadn't been confined to their ships and suits.

    “Miss Naenn? I’m doctor Penina Lini, if you wouldn’t mind I would like to ask you a few questions” the asari said the cliché line.

    The quarian looked at her and smiled.

    “Sure, but could you pass me a towel and water first?” `asked the obese woman and the psychiatrist did just that.

    “Thanks’”

    “So we have your medical records from a few years ago and obviously they are quite outdated” began Penina as she sat on a nearby hair and glanced at the datapad in her hand.


     
    Zoma'Naenn nar Rayya

    Age: 24 years

    Height(suit less): 5’5”

    Weight: 114,7 pounds


     
    Those were data from five years ago and understandably there were no longer accurate.

    “Mrs T'mivus weren’t exactly clear on the matter, but she seems to consider herself responsible for your current state, even going as far as saying she hurt you. That and that mental illness may be at play here. Considering her erratic behavior when approached about you in conversation, despite her, otherwise, very firm and composed one. That’s why we want to get your side of the story first.” The asari explained calmly.

    “So… you want to know if Cy is crazy and I how got fat?” summarized the flabby quarian almost happily but with knowing glint in her eyes. Despite her demeanor, Zoma wasn’t stupid or naïve.

    The psychiatrist nodded, there was no reason to dance around the subject or lie.

    The almost naked female stared on the asari for few seconds before heavily leaning back, setting waves through her blubber.

    Then she started her tale.


     
    ***

    About five years earlier


     
    Zoma was one lucky quarian. Just a few months from setting off on her pilgrimage she managed to get a fairly decent job on Illium, even without becoming a legal version of a slave.

    Thought it wasn’t undeserved, while she may sometimes act like a ditz, it was mostly just that an act. The young quarian was very good at what she did. And while her job was good it did have downsides.

    Don’t get her wrong, programming mechs and cyber-security for Eclipse was interesting and quite well paid. It’s just that she would appreciate it if most of her co-workers and superiors didn’t act like psychopaths, one comment away from rupturing her suit for fun.

    Which brought her to the situation at hand. After months of successful employment more than several asari and salarians had become little irked by the fact that some suit rat was more competent than them. Zoma already seeing signs of danger decided to terminate her employment contract and defraud some credits as compensation for the hazardous work environment.

    That may be too much wishful thinking on her part, she had to admit it in retrospect. To be exact it resulted in an Eclipse asari pointing a gun at her while checking files, that Zoma had hacked into. The quarian recognized her only from occasional glances.

    “In such a short time you secured almost full access to the system. But only on Illium you didn’t bother with others or perhaps you didn’t know? Still… It’s your lucky day” said the mercenary and gave her a toothy grin.



    What followed was a bit of surprise for Naenn. Instead of impromptu execution, perhaps even tortures, she received a proposition for an alternative form of employment.

    The asari that held her at gunpoint, Cerithia T'mivus looked for a way out as well. She had access, clearance codes as well as knowledge of where and what had been stored. However, the old maiden didn’t have the skills to pull the juicy bits out.

    That’s why…


     
    ***


     
    “Maiden?” doctor Penina asked Cerithia. Few hours after the conversation with the quarian, she was confronting the ex-Eclipse about. Surprisingly enough, the matron didn’t deny anything, save for putting a little different light at the events.

    “Yep, I waited quite a bit for the matron phase to kick in, not that I particularly cared. I have medical data from that time if you are that interested in it” the mercenary confirmed grumpily.

    The psychiatrist merely nodded and made a note. Then they continued.


     
    ***

    …she needed someone like Naenn.

    “You just saved me a lot of time with this stunt of yours” the asari admitted later when they were going over the course.

    The quarian learned with the surprise that the Cerithia was surprisingly reasonable for Eclipse, even if going overboard around her was a bit ill-advised.

    In short: the asari would provide knowledge, equipment, and protection from various eager idiots and Naenn would rip everything they could from Eclipse, under the guise of still working for them.

    In the end, the quarian would safely walk away with a sizable sum of money or something of equal value. Sure it would be a fraction of what T'mivus would take, but considering the circumstances, the Zoma decided not to push her luck, this time.

    Over the course of the following weeks, they began setting things up, mostly in one of the asari safe houses. There they prepared appropriable equipment where, under T'mivus watchful eye, Naenn would leech off on Eclipse resources digitally and gather blackmail.

    Cerithia provided an appropriate excuse with enough derogatory terms and insinuations toward quarian and few even cared to begin with. Some, spiteful towards the more strict leader, that T'mivus was, had come with the theory of quarian whore.


     
    ***


     
    “Sorry, but I must ask. Nobody noticed your absence? How about original work, you were still supposed to do it” inquired the asari doctor.

    “Between that and gathering dirt on Eclipse I didn’t have time for manual labor, but I wasn’t really needed for it anyway. I wrote the code and sent it, anybody that had a bit of experience with mechs could install it later. Often they don’t need it at all, computers usually update automatically” the quarian said and sipped some dense liquid she had brought with her home.

    “I see”


     
    ***


     
    Still, after a few initial hung-ups, the unlikely duo started getting results as well as warm up to each other.

    As Zoma learned, her collaborator differed significantly from other asari in Eclipse. She was extremely practical and calculated, lacking that eagerness for the bloodshed that other yellow-clad mercenaries possessed. The asari also didn’t lack in intelligence, as one of the first members of the group, she was probably the one who realized where all the data went across centuries. That and she wasn’t lacking when dealing with machinery although programming was out of her depth.

    The fact that Cerithia treated her quarian employer on equal footing, despite the clear advantage was also nice. And those mood shifts from serious to disturbingly, cheerfully aggressive were easy to overlook.


     
    ***


     
    “Zoma mentioned that that you suffered from sudden mood changed” mentioned the shrink. The younger matron sighed heavily.

    “Yes, that... I suffer from some rare condition that causes my hormones to go haywire. Nothing life-threatening, I used to even function well enough without meds, but it was making me a bit unpredictable without them. With the current state of Eclipse it was even proving useful sometimes” informed more muscular asari begrudgingly.

    Doctor Lini took another note.


     
    ***


     
    “That didn’t discourage you from working with Cerithia” Penina interrupted the tale.

    “Well it did scare me a bit at first, but it’s not I had I choice, or rather I didn’t think I had. I mean - I'm a quarian and was alive only thanks to how convenient I was to her. Besides she apologized every time and later I realized she was still in control. Like... Ce acted differently but she didn’t do anything wrong, like she was tipsy, but not **, at least at the beginning. Besides it only happened when she didn’t take her medicine” explained the Zoma. The doctor nodded.

    “Thank you. Please continue.


     
    ***


     
    T'mivus come to appreciate somebody who didn’t talk to her with fear, hatred, or a mixture of those two. The young pilgrim was also much more cheerful and honest than all of her current acquaintances. And despite those qualities and a foolhardy attempt where she caught her, Zoma was surprisingly competent.

    So as the months progressed, they become friendlier, until…well… they made sure the more unsavory stories about the quarian’s disappearance gained a grain of truth to sure.


     
    ***


     
    “Miss Naenn, I’m sorry but given the circumstances, I have to ask: did Cerithia forced herself on you?” asked the doctor calmly.

    The quarian blinked at her and exploded with booming laughter, that caused quivers through the pile of adipose that was her body. Soon she also started clapping on her enormous gut, introducing further motion it is. After almost two minutes laughter died and the quarian was gasping for air.

    “*wheeze*… forced, aha, if somebody was being forceful about*wheeze* doing the deed it was me. It was almost*wheeze* as she was the virgin, not I and I didn’t like that whole dancing around the subject. *wheeze* And I was right, it not only was great, but there was no problem with it later” explained Zoma with a wide grin.


     
    ***

    Indeed after the introduction, the pair engaged in more intimate acts frequently and while originally it was firmly a “friends with benefits” kind of arrangement, it too changed quickly.

    One and a half years since their meeting, both asari and the quarian considering themselves romantic partners. And while Zoma had her own, fair share of, mostly not vocalized doubts, the former Eclipse was surprisingly on board with it.

    She did want to have a fresh start and a steady relationship, something the mercenary had been yearning for some time now, with lovely quarian, seemed like a good start.

    The interior and atmosphere inside the hideout occupied by Naenn were starting to become more homely and domestic. Everything seemed to be going great.

    And then Cerithia started entering the matron stage. Unlike most of asari in her case, it wasn’t fast and without complication. The transition didn’t want to come to the conclusion and the mercenary condition wasn’t helping with that. What’s worse, all this made her meds useless.

    However, at “home” her more erratic behavior took the form of more possessive behavior and more spoiling towards her lover. Zoma didn’t mind it, she did like being pampered.

    That was the begging of T'mivus’s insistence that the programmer should take care of herself more and most importantly eat better. Naenn was pretty sure she had already put on few pounds with the lack of movement, save in bed, and regular meals provided by the asari.

    However the quarian did enjoy the attention, and the lavish meals(meals not expensive nutrient paste!!!) were better than Zoma ever had had in the past, even if serving were enormous(at least she had thought so of those snacks at the time).

    Unfortunately, Cerithia’s was becoming more unstable and too enthralled with what she envisioned, she even let slip through few words about children. All of this terrified the quarian a bit, if she were to be honest.

    The programmer loved her asari, she had already accepted it, and she did know it wasn't just hormones talking, but the entire prospect was overwhelming. This would mean abandoning the Flotilla, she had a bit fewer strings attached to it, as Naenn was one of few quarians that had a clear set of problems about how the board was doing things and her immediate family was deceased. Still, this, this would be change everything.

    That’s why Zoma took a habit of sneaking out. For one, to clear her thoughts. For two, she had set a meeting with few doctors hoping they would help. Of course, the quarian was providing false data, save for Cerithia’s condition. But the good ones ignored her assuming Naenn didn’t have money or hers are stolen, and the cheaper ignored the issue or assumed the same as their more capable colleagues.

    As much as she urged her lover to go, the mercenary was running ragged to manage Eclipse, due to unrest in the organization and the asari wasn’t slacking gathering data on her end. And one couldn’t exactly ask for medical leave in a mercenary company.

    Zoma just returned from one of her strolls, but back home she was welcomed with an eerily familiar if unwelcome scene. Cerithia’s gun pointed at her face.

    However the mercenary didn’t look angry, instead, she held a look of extreme sadness and worry.

    “Y… You want to leave? Was I not a good enough partner? I can do better…I will…” whispered T'mivus, her gaze seemed absent. Naenn had seen few instances where her lover's condition took a better of her but never like that. The quarian was now honestly scared, for both of them.

    The quarian tried to reassure her lover, calmly without sudden moves but it was futile. The mercenary seemed to be in her own world.

    “No. I can’t let you go. You’re already neglecting yourself. I’ll take care of you…”

    Zoma wanted to protest, but what she had of self-preservation instinct warned her that argued with her love, who was currently toothing a gun and in the middle of some sort of attack, was a bad idea.

    Meanwhile, Cerithia’s face drastically changed. Instead of a look of misery, it now housed a wide, toothy grin.

    “Yes. I’ll show you that I can take care of you. It won’t be nice at first, but it’ll make everything better” the mercenary informed and put her hand on her lover’s cheek, or rather in the corresponding place on the helmet.

    The following minutes felt like dream to the quarian. She found herself with her hands cuffed behind her back and on the couch. Meanwhile mercenary activated all serializing procedures installed and brought all the packed food next to her.

    Cerithia sat next to her with an opened container with some sort of cake.

    “Every time I look at you I realize just how much I have been neglecting you. Let me fix it” the asari said with that huge grin, opened her helmet, and brought the piece of cake to her face.

    “Open up”

    Seeing no safer option Zoma did just that. The problem is it didn’t end at one piece. She was being fed and fed. The quarian was full halfway the cake. When she asked for a drink the programmer received one immediately. However, after that, stuffing continued relentlessly. 

    “I... can’t eat anymore” moaned the quarian desperately moving her mouth away from the damned cake.

    “Ce…”

    The moment Naenn opened her mouth, food was crammed into her mouth and the mercenary grabbed it, carefully, but giving no chance for escape.

    “Yes, you can sweetheart. We just have to make sure you get used to proper eating” the asari said with that maniacal grin.

    Ultimately, the programmer was forced to devour the entire cake. She didn’t know what was more likely bursting or thriving up, the quarian had never eaten that much at once. Her, already softer, than average quarian’s belly, was now distended, straining the suit.

    T'mivus cleaned and was rubbing bulging mass with visible delight.

    Soon after then headed to bed.

    Zoma thought it was a single instance, a bout of insanity caused by her lover’s condition and stress. She was wrong.

    In the morning everything seemed normal until breakfast. The quarian finished, but then the mercenary appeared next to her, urging her to eat more with this same disturbing smile.

    No amount of words discouraged the asari and soon the situation was the repeat of the day before, leaving Zoma on the brink of explosion.

    The mercenary left, locking the door in a primitive way that completely deterred the programmer’s attempts. But before that, Cerithia showed her lover the ridiculous mountain of food, she expected the quarian to eat.

    With no other choice, Naenn went to work. But the mercenary returned and realized how ”little” food had been eaten, proceeded to tie the programmer to the bed and began pushing edible substances down Zoma’s throat. This time the quarian didn’t manage to hold it all down and part of the half-digested food ended on the floor.

    That event bought Zoma some slack, but only to the next meal.

    This trend continued. The quarian kept being feed by her lover to absolute limits. It was a bit of trial and error, as not always the rich turian cuisine agreed with the programmer.

    However as weeks passed, Zoma was eating, eating and EATING, whatever she wanted to or not.


     
    ***


     
    Doctor Penina stared at Cerithia patiently. The mercenary was sitting in silence with her hands crossed next to her mouth.

    “It…seems so obvious now, but back then… It was so natural, so… clear, after weeks of confusion and chaos I finally knew what to do. And It felt so right to do. Sure Zo was protesting, but it would be for the better in the end” the former Eclipse finally said with shame.

    “And now…?” the shrink inquired.

    “Now I know I shouldn’t feed her like that. But I still feel like it was something I should be doing and I still want to protect, pamper her”


     
    ***


     
    The first months were the worst, the mercenary was in the amok, relentlessly feeding her lover at every opportunity, while still in this disturbingly cheerful mood. By pleading or more forceful approach, the former Eclipse always had her way in this matter. However, it’s important to note that she never struck or violated her lover.

    It wasn’t to say that consumption was the only thing the quarian was doing, no. In fact, the rest of the day was pretty similar to those from before. Only, once again, she was unable to leave and her lover was even more “helpful” than before, even to the point of being subservient.

    And, although the mercenary was extremely firm in certain matters, like: how much the quarian was eating, not exiting the house, and leaving all manual labor to asari. Cerithia was trying to meet Zoma’s every need and whim with that strange cheerfulness that she had developed.

    Basically, all the programmer had to do was to work on the console, stuff herself with food, or be fed and enjoy herself. And with no other, good, choice she did so.

    Obviously, such a lifestyle had consequences.

    Several weeks after Cerithia’s shift in personality, Zoma was tied to the high railing of their bed sitting with straightened legs. She stared darkly as the mercenary was stroking her bulging gut with visible, undiluted joy. The asari had been positively ecstatic since Naenn had started to visibly pack on pounds. There were sizable remains of levo feast next to them.

    Yes, gut. Since the first feeding, the slight bulge had transformed into a soft, spherical mass just a little bit smaller than the hologram used for combat VIs. That wasn’t all, beyond that the quarian clearly felt her suit being tighter all over, mostly around her thighs, forearms, and breasts.

    This gave her an idea. When Cerithia was finishing cleaning, Zoma informed her that this cannot keep up, because her suit won’t hold her much longer.

    The programmer, with hope, realized that her lover’s face took that focused, serious face that had been absent for so long. Then, it disappeared, once again shifting into a grin.

    The following day, the mercenary returned almost an hour later than usual. However, she dragged there a large roll of suspiciously familiar material and unique tools. Zoma knew those items.

    Then after some consultations and thorough cleaning, the former Eclipse gave her lover immune booster and began painstakingly precisely resizing the suit.

    Zoma had to admit that the asari had skills. Sure… Ce had nothing on some quarians back on the flotilla, but the programmer doubted she or the average engineer from the street could do it so well as did her lover.

    Also during the entire time, Cerithia had the calm, focused look, free of the feverish eagerness from last weeks. It was another instance when her former self shone through, which gave the quarian hope.

    After the deed was done, Zoma noticed that suit was loose, but fit well enough. Then she commented there was much fabric left.

    The grin reappeared, but this time it looked as the mercenary tried to control it.

    “We’ll need it later” informed the asari and the programmer realized that if things continue this road then yes, they’re going to need it later.

    Time passed. Naenn’s belly continued to swell and the rest of her body followed as if trying to catch up. Only her breast’s size seemed to barely differ.

    The quarian was well past 250 pounds and approaching 300, when the geth attack on Citadel happened. The duo of lovers watched with widened eyes the report about it, and Zoma was tightly hugging the mercenary with her chubby body pressing into the muscular frame. She stared with disbelief at the destruction wrought by her species’s ancestral enemy.

    The ceremony following geth’s defect was broadcasted and it was then when the programmer the young, spunky Zorah who was being hailed as the hero.

    It was around that time when Cerithia’s state began to calm down. She was still more eager than before and more than happy to feed the quarian to the limit, but mercenary lacked that feverish madness in her eyes. While she still was unable to realize the abnormalities in her behavior, the mercenary was now much more collected, acting more like an overbearing lover whose partner was neglecting herself.

    They had entered into much more comfortable territory. Cerithia actually listened to quarian’s input, save from the object of her obsession, namely the programmer's eating habits and comfort. Zoma was also slowly, and with relief, because Keelah, she had missed it, again becoming intimate with the asari. After her initial bout of insanity, the quarian made no such proposition and refused them as well, the former eclipse always complied.

    This time they didn't have to bother with the suit, thanks to sterilizing systems Cerithia had had installed some weeks before. That and the pilgrim had quickly adapted to asari's biology.

    It was awkward at first, Zoma wasn’t exactly shy, but her lover’s bouts of insanity made her more careful and her larg…eh… fat body caused her to feel self-conscious. However, this time it was Cerithia, who was eager and, as soon asari got the hands on the programmer’s folds, shocked the quarian with her energy.

    Afterward, Zoma was lying on the bed, panting and covered in sweat. The mercenary had groped and tasted every inch of, swelled with the adipose, body. At that moment the programmer started to think that her figure wasn’t that bad.

    If she was being honest, by then, the quarian needed very little persuasion to gorge herself. She had never been fussy about eating and months of being stuffed to the absolute limit left her with quite the appetite. The programmer kept snacking with little to no input from her conscious mind and sometimes gorged herself into a food coma even without Cerithia around. Even nightly treks to the fridge were becoming more frequent.

    The mercenary was absolutely delighted that her love was embracing this gluttonous lifestyle. However, this brought a few, slight issues. Sometimes, the mercenary couldn’t gauge how much she could push down her lover’s gullet and Zoma could avoid ending as a balloon.

    But Cerithia had spent much of her life as a high-ranking operative in a vicious mercenary company, she quickly learned when the programmer was putting on the show. Besides, the quarian did that rarely, her newly gained greed demanded more and more food.

    Life went on. During all this time they kept gathering data on Eclipse, but for Zoma it was mostly filled with a stream of calories, constantly going down to her stomach, which were filling her, already large, body. She watched as her partner slowly but surely was regaining her former personality, save for the constant, if not so psychotic, insistence on fattening and spoiling the quarian. During all this time they kept gathering data on Eclipse.

    Unfortunately, all this new bulk wasn’t without consequences.

    This happened during one more than usually passionate lovemaking session.

    Last months changed Zoma, her already enlarged body had progressed outward. Round gut became a large, soft bag of fat that took a third of the quarian’s lap. It was still, mostly a single mass but had split into two pairs of love handles at the sides and the division into two folds progressed as the gluttonous organ grew. When the programmer was moving her arms, she felt a jiggle of growing bingowings, that didn’t as much hang as encased her forearms. Zoma’s face was appropriately affected, her checks now round and according to the mercenary “cute”. The only thing shrinking was the quarian’s neck, which was being absorbed by the swelling torso and adipose that was filling her face.

    The least affected was her breasts, which seemed to mostly ignore the onslaught of calories, grooving barely an inch total. Also, It was getting hard to distinguish the curve of her calves, then there were thighs, which were about as wide as her waist had used to, that needed to be split quite far apart to not be touching.

    Like when they needed to accommodate the head of the purple-skinned asari, who was busy bringing ecstasy to their obese owner. Just like the day the incident happened.

    Seemingly everything was more than fine. Cerithia was busy between her lover’s meaty legs, while her delighted victim was clutching bedsheets and moaning between gaps for air. The soft flesh was wobbling with fervor, the asari was in a feisty mood that day.

    Zoma already noticed that she was breathing harder than usual, but by now the quarian was used to all activities getting more and more tiring, so she ignored it. Besides the mercenary was outdoing herself that day.

    At first, moans were completely replaced by panting, soon after quarian’s breaths started to get quicker, more shallow.

    Then Zoma realized she was struggling to get a sufficient amount of oxygen to her lungs.

    The programmer started to panic. She wanted to shout, but her mouth was too preoccupied gasping for the precious air. So the quarian started to wriggle and squeeze her legs, that’s all she could do.

    Nowadays it took Zoma a fair bit of effort to move, not to mention the extra adipose restricted her range of movement. But at that moment, when her body struggled with little oxygen and orgasmic pleasure assaulting her, every limb felt like made from a molten lead and emerged in jelly.

    There was no chance of lifting her incredible bulk from the bed, even rolling from it.

    After few terrible seconds, the purple-skinned asari raised her head with a mixture of ecstasy and annoyance visible on it. But one look on her suffering lover and her state was enough for Cerithia to leapt with help.

    The mercenary cursed and moved next to her girlfriend, not caring for the remains of clothes dangling from her. With her considerable strength, further increased by adrenaline, she managed to get Zoma into a sitting position.

    The Eclipse defector shouted a few instructions and checked quarian’s status with omnitool, it was modified with much more advanced medicals features than normal. Cerithia hissed when she read the diagnosis.

    With speed worthy of an Olympic athlete, the asari ran into another room. She returned carrying a large medical case, towel, distilled water, and a small, medical can with oxygen.

    Meanwhile, Zoma tried to, with clear struggle, to follow her lover’s instructions and regain her breath.

    A plastic mask was pressed to her face and a wave of glorious, pure oxygen entered her lungs.

    After over a minute of such treatment, the programmer felt much better. She managed to raise her hand and took the can from the mercenary. With an affirmative nod and a weak smile from Zoma, the asari left her the device. Then Cerithia once again checked her omnitool and calmed down a bit, her lover’s state was stabilising.

    Once the danger passed, both laid on the bed, exhausted. The quarian was on the verge of falling asleep and her partner felt like she had just relived the most dangerous operation from her past. Despite this, the mercenary carefully, but adamantly led the programmer to the bathroom, gave her immunity boosters, and helped her lover clothe into her suit.

    During the entire procedure, Zoma was barely coherent and fallen into dreamless sleep immediately after.

    When she woke up, the quarian realized that she was alone. It was a bit odd given the hour, but she almost immediately focused on the various, still warm, dishes that were ling on trays next to bed. Another oddity was a note from Cerithia with a firm request to remain in her suit that day.

    That soured the programmer’s mood a bit, by then she was used to being free of the confines of her ever-modified suit. However she complied, her lover rarely told her to do something without reason.

    The rest of the day followed usually, writing new software and hacking into Eclipse databases while happily gorging. That day Zoma was limited to various pastes, but the mercenary had provided only the best and tastiest. Only a few times, the quarian paused and rubbed place, where her heart was buried under inches of soft blubber.

    Hours passed and Cerithia wasn’t returning. It was well past her usual return and the former pilgrim was worrying.

    Out of nowhere, she received a notice about decompression. Zoma checked it, in the garage space was her lover with several containers. They were clearly too big to bring inside without opening both sides of pressure doors.

    Well that explains why Ce wanted me in the suit, but what’s in those boxes?

    Doors opened and only with the faintest of greetings the mercenary began moving cargo.

    Now Zoma was really worried. Her love’s face was absent, eyes were gazing far away like she was in some trance. To be honest the asari did behave like hypnotized, mechanically moving boxes without a word.

    The quarian managed to get herself off her large chair and with effort waddle to the mercenary. When Cerithia didn’t respond to her call, the programmer tried to grab her. She succeeded the third time, the flabby arms weren’t used to movement outside typing.

    The asari stopped, but her gaze was elsewhere. At first, she wasn’t responding to Zoam’s inquires then started to answer monosyllabically, something about medical equipment, when prompted about the containers

    Then out of nowhere, the hardened mercenary started to shake and her face twisted, seemingly on the verge of crying.

    The programmer had never before seen her lover in such state, in some ways, it was more worrying than reverting into this cheerful-psychotic state from months before.

    With some gentle prompting and a bit of towing, or the quarian's attempts on it, Cerithia left the container and both sat on the bed.

    The purple face was twisting, only sheer will stopping tears, but few simple questions from the quarians opened the flood gates of the mercenary mouth.

    The incident from the day before affected the asari much more than Zoma. Cerithia was blaming herself for the lack of oversight, neglecting her girlfriend’s needs. This worry was borderline…no…it was hysterical and the quarian realized that: one - the only thing holding her lover together was her self-control, two –that wasn’t exactly normal.

    The next hour, the programmer spend reassuring the asari that everything was fine and she didn’t blame her.

    After the mercenary regained some of her composure, she informed the programmer that inside the containers were parts for the medical system. The best one Cerithia could buy and reliably operate. It would monitor Zoma’s health much better than some flimsy omnitool and if necessary provide limited medical attention as well as warn about potential dangers.

    The former pilgrim didn’t protest, save from saying that the Cerithia should consult it with her before buying. It was clear to Zoma that any complaints in this regard would fall on deaf ears. Besides, considering recent developments, it wasn’t exactly a bad purchase.

    The mercenary moved the containers inside and the quarian managed to convince her to go to sleep.

    The following weeks were hard for both of them. What little time Cerithia had between her position in Eclipse and her blackmail gathering activities, the mercenary spend installing the medical system. It was a complex beast, that clearly wasn’t intended for civilian installation. It barely left time to prepare meals for her lover.

    On the other side of the spectrum as the large quarian was still worrying as her asari seemed once again to fall into an obsessive state and was working herself to the bone. That and her access to food had been greatly reduced, both due to her personal’s chef’s lack of time and constant barrier caused by the suit, she had to keep on due to mess inside the house.

    The lack of sex also was a painful blow. The programmer didn’t know how she had managed to function before without it.

    All of this put a damper on Zoma’s growth despite that, as ashamed she was to admit, that there were a few instances when she used Cerithia’s slavish devotion to pamper her in order to make her stop working and prepare feasts.

    Still, after weeks of back-breaking labor, the system was set and the apartment decontaminated.

    What followed was the most ridiculous feeding session so far and night of ravishing intimacy during which the quarian’s role was limited to lying down, immobilized by her near-bursting gut.

    Strangely enough this time the programmer felt none of the tightens in the chest from last time.

    Life regained its previous rhythm, Zoma’s was once again swelling with astounding speed. Soon enough another consequence of a gluttonous lifestyle began apparent.

    The quarian’s had long since noticed that movement was getting harder and harder. While she was a little above average female quarian height, but not like almost freakishly tall Tali, her frame was being weighted down roughly by 500 pounds of pure adipose. That and Zoma was never an example of physical proneness, unlike her lover…I’m mean did you see her muscles…, and what little musculature she had, was falling to entropy due to her sedentary lifestyle.

    Those days it was getting next to impossible for her to alone move from her bed or chair. So the programmer had asked Cerithia to install a special set of railings to help her move. The mercenary agreed happily, but only so without this sickly cheerfulness. The muscular asari was improving.

    This was mostly similar to installing the medical systems but much simpler and stress-free. It should be also much faster, but this time the Eclipse defector wasn’t working to the physical limit. And of course, she needed to spend much more time cooking than the previous time. Zoma was a growing girl after all and her needs had increased since then.

    But the quarian realized that it was only a matter of time before she was completely reliant on outside assistance, even if her lover seemed completely ignorant to it. While she didn’t exactly know how Zoma was aware something had to be done.

    Fortunately, she was a lucky quarian. 😉

    It didn’t happen overnight, but Cerithia was back mostly to her old self. Then she started to question the state of things and become aware of her lapses in thought. It was nothing concrete at first, but that feeling of something being wrong keep increasing.

    One afternoon a breakthrough happened.

    Zoma was lying naked on the bed, her thick legs too wide to lay together and making a place for her gargantuan, split into two rolls, stomach. At this point, the quarian was almost as big as when Eristena and her people come to get her.

    Next to her was Cerithia, only in trousers and a sleeveless shirt with a bowl of half-molten ice cream on her knees and spoon in hand.

    Both were in great moods, but between spoonfuls of gooey goodness, Zoma asked one joking question.

    “One day you’ll have to tell me why you want me so big”

    And opened her mouth for another portion, but the spoon froze halfway. A confusion was visible on the mercenary face and then distress. She started mumbling asking herself question’s, the nonsensical, mad decision of actions that Cerithia had done during those last years seemed to suddenly rush to her. The asari started to panic freak out, nearly shouting.

    Fortunately, despite her extremely limited mobility, Zoma by then knew what worked on her lover, even in times of distress. She, admittedly with effort and after some time, managed to calm her asari down. Soon after, the shaking mercenary was lying on the bed, tightly clutching to the massive mass of fat that was her girlfriend. Both fell asleep soon after.

    In the following days, there were more similar occurrences, but Cerithia was getting a better handle on them and becoming moreover of her abnormal behavior. She didn’t know what to do, for the first time in centuries.

    But Zoma had an idea and finally, she convinced her lover to visit a doctor. It took a few days to find somebody appropriate.

    That visit provided some interesting information.

    The doctor chastised the mercenary for not coming sooner. Apparently, Cerithia condition had a particularly nasty form of transition into matron that didn’t fully finish, even at that time. The medic was surprised that the asari managed to even properly function at that time. For now, she received a prescription for medication and see another meeting. The Eclipse commander failed to mention her exact symptoms.

    The pills helped. After a week, Cerithia had better control of herself and was aware of what she had been doing, even if her memory was hazy at some points.

    The downside of this was that this knowledge nearly caused the mercenary to develop into full-blown depression, she was blaming herself.

    But Zoma didn’t, not really and successfully, if barely, convinced her lover of it and that she wanted to stay with her.

    Instead, the quarian presented a task. It was clear that they needed somebody to buy Eclipe’s secrets and provide them with protection. Both needed medical attention, Cerithia still wasn’t fully fine and the programmer needed assistance in everyday tasks.



    So the Eclipse defector started to look for an appropriate buyer.

    During that period few facts became apparent. The asari a few times offered to help Zoma with light exercises in order to start shedding weight. All of them were forced, though the mercenary hid it well.

    Pills or no pills, Cerithia still adored her girlfriend's enormous body, her gargantuan ass, bigger belly, and equally swelled limbs. She still loved feeding and pampering the programmer.

    The quarian long since learned to love overindulgence and her adipose provided unexpected if welcome possibilities in the bedroom. Besides, it was so soft and jiggly.

    Zoma happily kept eating more every day and allowed herself to be fed to the joy of both lovers.

    Then the news of Tali bossing the Red Spirit’s personnel with their boss blessing reached the duo.


     
    ***


     
    “And that’s about it doc” finished the gigantic quarian and with effort shifted on the bed.

    Doctor Penina still absorbed the incredible tale, trying to maintain a neutral expression. It sounded like the plot of some poor novel, but evidence…

    “Ahem… thank you, Miss. I’ll likely have some more questions later. For now, let’s focus on something else” said the psychiatrist.

    Per the contract you had signed we are to provide you necessary medical attention and safety. I know this must be hard, but perhaps you should consider filing a restraining order…”

    “No” interrupted the quarian, her voice, and eyes filed with a hardness that was completely different from her earlier stance. It didn’t fit this bubbly, perhaps even bit air-headed programmer.

    “I know what you are thinking, but I’m not abandoning Cy. Sure, what she did to me wasn’t exactly pleasant at first, but right now Cerithia needs me perhaps more than ever before. I know how this sounds, especially with this body of mine, but that's true. Besides, save this pampering obsession she didn’t do anything bad, and she could easily. I never was much of a fighter” explained Zoma firmly, somehow leaving no room for argument.

    Doctor Lini nodded, making mental note to investigate the matter and if necessary return to the topic.

    “I see. Then I’ll be going, if you need anything please ask. Also, I believe that dietician familiar with quarian physiology was already contacted so soon we’ll be able to help with your… figure” informed the shrink with a small smile and got up.

    “Nah, don’t bother. I don’t really want to lose it”

    That made Penina pause.

    “Excuse me?”

    “I told you doc. Cy may be sorry about what she did, but she still loves that sweet bod of mine. And it’s not like I want to stop stuffing my face before all of this I didn’t know eating could feel so good” replied the programmer, she put her hands on the mound of blubber that was her gut and set her entire body in motion.

    For some reason, the sight of this blob jiggling body made the doctor's throat dry.

    “So unless all those specialists from before say I need to, I don’t want to lose a pound. If you want to do something for me, doctor, could you get for me some real food and not nutrient paste. And tell Cy I want to see her when she has the time”

    The psychiatrist swallowed the saliva, the show still fresh in her mind. She hoped that her patient will need some direct help in the future, curious how all this flesh felt up close…

    “Very well, I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, Miss Naenn, try to get some rest. I believe that tomorrow will be demanding as well” said the doctor.

    Zoma groaned but nodded. At least Penina thought it was a nod, all this flesh was making it hard to tell. Soon after the doctor left.


     
    ***


     
    Tali was gaping at the screen, despite the fact it only once again only showed the muscular commando. Only her helmet hid from the asari that her mouth was open.

    “That’s the thick of it. Since then I have been getting loads of data, that Liara wants me to get familiar with for future operations. From what I managed to get from medical personnel, Naenn’s health is stable despite her weight. Your onboard medic, Mordin, can probably explain it better. He has been cooperating with our specialists and those data had been forwarded to him as well when you lifted data silence. Why exactly you had to employ it?” said Eristena.

    The quarian was still a bit dazed so it took her a few seconds to reply.

    “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I should tell. Liara’s going to be brief, so you should ask her. Sorry” replied the embarrassed engineer, but the commando didn’t seem fazed.

    “That’s fine. If I didn’t have a direct order from Miss T’Soni I wouldn’t have disclosed the previous informations either” informed Eristena plainly.

    “ahem… thanks. How Zoma’s now?” asked Tali.

    “I’m not quite up to date on this, but from I heard surprisingly good. We’re setting her a more comfortable environment, she’s getting regular visits from T'mivus. Your kinsman keeps refusing any suggestions about losing her weight, even surgically, but at the same time is already offering her services in the same fashion she did to Eclipse. Seeing as our techs are already praising her work, that may just happen” reported the commando and after a second added.

    “Would you like me to arrange me a video call?”

    “Mmmm… yes please, but’s that nothing urgent, I don’t want to trouble eighter of us. Last thing…How…how much Zoma weights?” Tali asked the question that had been on her mind since she had seen the obese quarian.

    “If I remember correctly around 600 pounds” replied the head commando.

    “On the unrelated note. It may interest you that our people assigned on Zhu Hope managed to mostly deal with colonist illness. What’s more, Shiala found a bondmate and is expecting” added Eristena with the smallest hint of a smile on the tired face.

    They exchanged pleasantries and the call disconnected.

    Tali remained silent, deep in thought. After such a draining mission, another bombshell had been dropped on her head. What’s more, it ha quite a lot of similarities to her own situation.

    The quarian was sitting there, trying to wrap her head around this all when something that was neither purr nor growl was heard behind her back.

    “600 pounds? That’s quite a number and that Zoma is much shorter than you, right?”

    How in the name of ancestors, somebody that tall is so quiet? thought Tali when a shiver ran through her body. She didn’t turn back, the engineer knew what was there.

    That pale, tall being with a smile that shouldn’t be humanly possible and red lines seemingly trying to burn through the skin.

    “Shepard, are you done with everything?... eeem… how long you were here?” asked the quarian suddenly very nervous.

    “Hmm… the boy is in medical, safe and our want-to-be Frankenstein secured. The moment he tries anything Grunt gets a new toy. I’m afraid we can’t do much more, we leave the rest to the Shadow Broker. And… well I was here long enough” answered the commander and placed her hands on Tali’s shoulders.

    The quarian felt the ling fingers even through the suit, suddenly aware how much they sunk into her flesh.

    “Ah…you sure they don’t need my…”

    “Stop”

    Shepard’s voice was seemingly sweet, pleasant, but for some reason left no room for argument.

    “I hate the fact that for those last days you were wasting away and was being so exploited. Now I heard that some Eclipse merc managed to get such delicious results. That’s why for the next several days I make sure you rest and eat properly. While that T'mivus seems sensible I HATE to be outdone”

    Tali swallowed. She was again trapped in the clutches of this human-shaped predator, her love.

    And she knew she was going to love it.



     
  20. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Batman76 in The Sorceress' Stress Snacking   
    A story I'd been planning, its first chapter was moved up in my schedule due to @ES-Draws great sketches.

    The Sorceress’ Stress Snacking
     
    Chapter 1: White Orchard
     
    Geralt stepped out of the White Orchard Inn and into the night in a foul mood.
     
    Three days full of far more violence than the grey haired witcher preferred had passed since he’d arrived in the Temerian village in search of his lost love Yennefer. He’d chased rumors of the elusive sorceress, who despite her famed and unique looks was impossible to track down, across the war ravaged landscape. Nekkers, drowners, ghouls, wolves, dogs and bandits had died by his sword, before he’d ultimately found a lead from the local Nilfgardian garrison, at the price of slaying a dangerous griffon. His reward had been to find that Yennefer was at the Nilfgardian court in conquered Vizima, less than a day’s ride away.
     
    And then he’d had to kill an inn full of idiotic thugs after collecting his mentor, the elderly Vesimir. 
     
    “Ugh, getting involved never turns out well,” Geralt grunted, wiping off his steel sword and sheathing it.
     
    “No, but you never learn, do you? Might not want to put that away yet,” Vesimir agreed, “hooves and armor are coming, we should go.”
     
    The two witcher’s sharp ears heard the rattle of armor and the clomp of hooves, war horses and cavalry. No matter which side in the great northern war the horsemen belonged too, the pair of witchers were covered in blood and there were half a dozen dead men behind them. In Geralt’s experience, that was difficult to explain. But just as he reached his trusty horse Roach, the wandering monster hunter paused.
     
    Because his enhance scent had just picked up, over the smell of horse sweat and armor polish, the faint perfume of lilac and goose berries.
     
    “Hold on, I think our mission just solved itself,” Geralt rasped, watching the squad of cavalry come out of the night.
     
    There were several Nilfgardian troopers in their traditional black and gold plate, but Geralt barely noticed them. For as they dismounted, a small framed woman in their midst, dwarfed by the size of a borrowed destrier, stepped down onto a high heeled boot. The Witcher had seen many a stunning sight in his day, from the burning palaces of kings to the angry roars of a dragon at close range, but nothing would ever give him as much pause as seeing Yennefer of Vengerburg.
     
    The smell of her perfume was strong, its rich scent striking in the muddy village. In the moon light the ivory skin of her smooth face seemed to glow, her black curls catching the stars. She was dressed in a black gown, cut low to show cleavage and slit to show thigh high boots, high heeled to make up for her short height. 
     
    “Geralt, covered in blood and running out of town. I see not much has changed,” Yennefer said coyly, her incredibly posh and melodious voice dripping with sarcasm.
     
    “And I see not much has changed with you,” Geralt said, suddenly noticing as she stepped up that things very much had.
     
    For one thing, the Nordling sorceress was working with the Nilfgardian Empire despite having been instrumental in defeating it in the first Northern War. For another and well, even Geralt with his superhuman eye for detail didn’t quite believe it at first. But a glance confirmed it, despite his disbelief.
     
    Yennefer had gained a good fifteen pounds.
     
    The chances of this were bafflingly low. Yennefer was brave, resourceful, curious, determined and caring but she was also immensely vain, she began every day with an hour of carefully applied makeup to her already beautiful face. She dressed stylishly and paid very careful attention to her appearance, her perfect looks an advertisement for her powers. But Geralt couldn’t deny the evidence of his eyes, having known every inch of her body he gave her another glance from ankles on up.
     
    Most of Yen’s legs were blocked by her tightly buckled black boots, but her right thigh was easy to see. Geralt remembered a wide gap between the raven beauty’s thighs, but now a thin, but soft layer of fat coated her upper leg, ivory flesh poking through the lace of her tights. They weren’t big, most noble women who’d had a baby would have killed to have thighs so slim, but now there was a pinchable bit of excess across her legs. 
     
    Going up, Geralt was struck by the breadth of the brunette’s hips. Yennefer’s looks had been girlish in the extreme, despite being a hundred years old she didn’t look a day over twenty, but she’d always been just slightly pear shaped, her butt large and round and her hips quite round, if rather firm. Now looking at her, Geralt could see how she’d gotten wider, the curve of her hip stretching the seam of her skirt tight.
     
    Yennefer’s waist wasn’t much changed from its old tiny 20 inch span...but that was because the sorceress was wearing a corset. The underbust girdle was laced very tightly, obviously pushing hard against something quite soft on the inside. Corsets weren’t uncommon for rich women, exercise was seen as manish and undignified, but as a sorceress Yennefer’s body was a plaything of her powers, letting her keep an absolutely tiny waistline that she was quite proud of. That she was now wearing the restrictive shapewear spoke to a rather drastic change.
     
    Continuing up, Geralt was very surprised by the change to Yennefer’s chest. The sorceress had a physique suitable B cup before, quite pert and perky but rather small, as well as a disdain for women with large busts, thinking that any breast bigger than a handful was  a sign of low class crudeness. That too had changed, the sorceress finding at least a cup size of soft tit. They seemed even larger thanks to the under bust corset, the brunette flashing cleavage for the first time.
     
    “Are you done staring yet, Geralt?” flashed into the witcher’s brain.
     
    Slightly startled, he looked up from his telepathic ex-lover’s breast to her face. Yennefer put on enchanted glamour makeup first thing every morning and touched it up several times per day, meaning that she looked impossibly gorgeous without a single mark, scar or bulge. But Geralt could slightly detect a softness to her sharp cheekbones, making her look less imperial and regal and more...approachable.
     
    “Hard not too when you look that good,” the Witcher returned mentally, knowing that the rather boundary challenged brunette frequently read his thoughts.
     
    Her eyes widened in surprise, a slight redness rising to her cheeks. That was odd, Yennefer lived for compliments and it shouldn’t surprise her to be praised.
     
    “I...you are too kind, but we should be going,” Yennefer said, ending the mental link and returning to her horse, “come, the Emperor himself wishes to speak to you.”
     
    Yennefer strode up to her destrier, an immense gray warhorse that towered over the small woman. It snorted softly, whinnying in affection as she got to the stirrup and put her small, booted foot in. Geralt’s sharp eyes saw the faint jiggle in her thigh as she stood up and swung her leg over the saddle. And how she checked the fit of her corset upon sitting, tugging the tight leather and whale bone down.
     
                        ….
    A few hours separated the pair’s next meeting, along with a chase by the ghostly riders of the wild hunt and a meeting with the powerful Emperor of Nilfgaard. 
     
    “You’ve been informed by the Emperor?” Yennefer asked Geralt as he walked into her chambers at the Vizima palace.
     
    He was in a tight set of black hose and dublet, Nilfgardian court fashion. It showed off his muscles well and Yennefer felt herself getting moist at the sight. A hundred years old she might be, but the sorceress had the libido of her maiden’s body and hadn’t had sex in months. His lean muscles, his dangerous scars, his growling voice, the glowing predator’s eyes, all of it was combining to make her wet as a bride on her wedding day. Yennefer needed her brains fucked out desperately by him, all the old emotions of him caring for her swirling back. But she pushed the urge down, still feeling angry and bitter over the knowledge he’d slept with Triss...and terrified to be seen without her corset. A pang of bitter anger hit her stomach and Yennefer soothed it, hand darting to a small box on her desk and drawing out a succulent chocolate cookie.
     
    “Yes, Ciri’s is both  alive back in our world,” the Witcher said with a shake of his head, “I can barely believe it. Why would she return?”
     
    “We don’t know, but if she’s here, well...she’s my daughter Geralt, not in blood but in everything that matters,” Yennefer told him, “and I *munch* am going to do everything I can to help her.”
     
    “Of course, she’s my daughter too in all that counts. But Yenn...are you alright? You’re not acting like yourself,” Geralt asked.
     
    Yennefer felt her cheeks color, to her shame. She had the urge to read his mind, but was certain she already knew what he was thinking. He was surely examining the damage done to her body by months of over eating, comparing the lardy she-walrus with the slender, nymph-like woman he’d once loved. Gods she’d gotten fat, every ounce of this wobbling jiggle disgusted her with every moment. She’d had to change and bathe after the flight from the wild hunt due to how sweaty she’d gotten and every moment had been agony, touching her newly soft and jiggling belly…
     
    “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit *munch* distracted,” Yennefer said, swallowing a cookie, not thinking about what number it was, “Ciri has me worried is all…”
     
    Unfortunately her corset had been damaged in the flight, an errant branch ripping a panel. Yennefer hadn’t had her mending cantrip prepared that day either and had stubbornly refused to buy more, denying that she truly needed it. So she was forced to speak to Geralt without its constraining effect, to her shame.
     
    The sorceress had changed into a long black gown with white pinstripes, her favorite colors. Unfortunately the Yennefer it had been stitched for was quite a bit bigger, making it snug as a glove. Pinstripes were supposed to lead the eye up to pert breasts or down to girlish hips, the snug and low cut gown showing both off quite well. Unfortunately the dress was cut for her old tiny, 20 inch waist and while it could fit her fuller one, she’d had to suck her stomach in to get it laced up. Even fully laced, the new roundness at her belly was quite plain to see through the thin fabric. She had it sucked it and it still wasn’t completely flat! Gods, it was disgusting, soft as her breasts and somehow bouncier. 
     
    Worse, this was one of her looser dresses. Yennefer had to confront the fact that she’d have to secure newer, larger clothes if she wasn’t able to get this problem in hand and soon...yet more reasons to find Ciri!
     
    “She gave me a great gift, love for a daughter, that I’d thought I’d never have,” Yennefer finished, eating another cookie to cover her horrific embarrassment at looking like such a pig, “but we’ve got some evidence for her location, come…”
     
    Together they looked over evidence of Ciri’s reappearances in the neutral city of Novigrad, the war torn land of Velen and the Skellige Isles. Always their adopted daughter, a tall green eyed lass with ashen hair, appeared in a flash of light pursued by ghostly horsemen. Geralt stood quite close to Yennefer, who’s face began to redden. Despite her anger, despite her shame, she was still very, very attracted to him. Her pale face began to flush, while her enlarged nipples hardened, beginning to poke through the thin fabric. While she didn’t mind the extra bust size, the way they showed off her arousal annoyed her deeply, making her feel like her sexuality was out of control.
     
    The Sorceress went to eat another cookie to cover her arousal, focusing on the oncoming sugar and spice instead, only to find she’d run out of them. Nimble fingers flickered inside the tin, only to accidentally knock it to the ground! Her eyes widened in shock and shame, the sorceress forget her telekinesis and lurched for the tin only to be stopped by a loud, undeniable rip from her midsection. Yennefer froze solid, as if she’d been caught by the White Frost itself, barely noticing Geralt swiftly snatching the tin out of mid air.
     
    “Careful there, its a nice tin. Enchanted to make more sweets, right?” the gruff Witcher asked, “I recognized it from when you were tutoring Ciri…”
     
    Yennefer gulped, words failing her for once. He was going to say something terrible to her and the only way to stop it was by admitting it.
     
    “I...let’s deal with the elephant in the room, yes?” Yennefer asked calmly, “You can go on and say it, I already know.”
     
    “...Say what Yen?” he asked her, eyebrow arched.
     
    She glared, a petulant gesture but one she couldn’t stop.
     
    “I’m fat, Geralt,” she seethed, poking her side.
     
    Her dress had ripped vertically, a pinstripe coming apart to reveal a bulge of soft white flesh.
     
    “I’ve put on a full stone and its made of pure lard. I’m hideous, the size of a bridge troll,” the angry mage seethed, breathing in deep for a diatribe, “so don’t go pussy footing around and thinking you can hide your disgust over my slovenly, flabby form behind your stoic facade. I’m certain you are ready to run off to that ginger floozy with her flat stomach and hard thighs and I...mmmmmm.”
     
    Geralt surprised her, leaning in quick as a cat and kissing her. Witcher’s were mutants, suffused with magic and their skin hummed to a mage, to Yennefer the kiss brought a full body tingle that relaxed her tensed muscles and deflated her ire.
     
    “Yen, you look good,” the witcher told her as she broke away.
     
    “I...you’re lying, you must be,” she insisted, words stammering, “I’m a wreck, a freak and I… Oh.”
     
    She’d reached out to touch his mind, to prove she was lying. And all she’d gotten was an image of him taking her from behind, fingers digging deep into her softer hips. Again, her pale cheeks flushed, this time in lust.
     
    “I suppose you aren’t lying,” she admitted, with girlish bashfulness, “still though, an explanation is in order.”
     
    “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not surprised, this is the last thing I’d expect to happen to you. Are you cursed?” he told her, “its hard to tell given the amount of enchanted items you carry…but you working for Nilfgard, is the Emperor cursing you?

     
    “Partly. I...didn’t quite have an option. Unlike you, I teleported into the south without a memory. I was found by the Nilfgardian intelligence service and kept at a chateau until they restored me,” Yennefer said, leaving out the immense and delicious amount of food she’d been plyed with during her stay to keep her docile, “and I...had to swear an oath on my power to work with the Emperor for Ciri’s sake. And for further insurance, I had to submit to a leash…”
     
    “A leash?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.
     
    Yennefer didn’t need telepathy to know what he was thinking, she herself instantly thought of her softened body, totally bare and wearing a dog’s leash…
     
     “Not like that, but yes. A leash, you were probably too busy staring at my breasts but I’ve got a new choker.”
     
    She tapped the silver pentagram she wore, its metal gleaming and new.
     
    “I can’t cast any sort of beauty spell on myself. Nilfgaard kept its sorceress’ plain and ugly to keep them under control. I’m able to manage my nails and my hair and skin but...weight is a different issue,” Yennefer sighed, tapping the soft fat roll spilling through her ruined dress, “especially as I…well because I eat a bit much. It’s extra motivation to find Ciri quickly, as I grow uglier and uglier…”
     
    Born a poor farm girl, despised for many deformities, Yenn had developed a sweet tooth upon her first access to deserts during her training as part of the beautiful elite. And when she got stressed, she dealt with stress by eating. Normally a weight loss spell every few weeks kept her belly suitably flat but now that she couldn’t...and Geralt had put his arms around her shoulders.
     
    “Yennefer, some fat isn’t going to make you ugly,” Geralt told her solemnly, “if anything, it suits you.”
     
    Yennefer froze, face going beat red as a virgin on her wedding night. That someone could like this...this blubber stupefied her. Yet he wasn’t lying, she could tell that...Gods why must this happen to her? Now? She’d been angry with him over sleeping with her friend, angry with her friend, angry increasingly at herself...ugh, if only she were thinner, she’d take him here and now…
     
    Her fingers absentmindly searched the insides of the cookie tin, finding with glee that the tin had had enough time to make another treat.
     
    “But anyway, that’s not important. We’re going to find Ciri and get her safe,” she gulped, stepping away quickly and popping more food into her mouth, “there’s three places she might be, Velen, Skellige and Novigrad. I suggest you start in Velen, I’m going to try *munch* Novigrad and we should meet there…”
     
    Yennefer stepped away quickly, not quite trusting herself. Because what she hadn’t mentioned was that an old friend of hers was in the free city of Novigrad, someone she needed to have very cross words with...but first, Yennefer needed to figure out if she was angrier at Geralt or Triss for the cheating...and which one she wanted to have sex with the most...
     
  21. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Cyril Figgis in Nicole - The Roundest Rugby Player (NEW CHAPTER 9/18/2021)   
    ((Boy, has it really been over a month since the last chapter?  Sorry for the delay everyone--been a little exhausting IRL, but I'm back with a hot new chapter!  We're just about 3/4 through the story, and it's time for some big decisions for our girls.  How will things pan out?  You'll just have to read and see!))
    JUNIOR YEAR - PART 4
    It was the last half of the State Championship Game, the culmination of a year’s worth of hard work and grit, and the Bruins were down by three points.  They were fighting with everything they had, but their opponents—the North State Rockets—were giving as good as they got and refused to back down.  The pitch was a mess by the end of the first half, and that was before the rain started in earnest, creating a mud pit so thick that it became difficult to tell who was who.  As the clock ticked closer to the end, the girls forced themselves to carry on—none more so than Nicole ‘Butterball’ Valdez, captain of the Bruins and biggest girl on the pitch by a country mile.
    There was a small part of her that knew she would have to face the consequences of her rampant gluttony one day, but she had hoped it would come in the off-season and not the biggest game of the year.  Ever since she embraced her role as the team butterball, she had traded agility on the pitch for ruthless aggression and power, which served her well since sophomore year.  Her stamina had taken a serious hit in recent months though, and what had once been a grueling game became a practice in torture as she struggled to make it to the very end, much less to victory.
    Despite how rotund she had become over the last three years, Nicole had never felt as heavy as she did in that moment, and much as she wanted to, she could not blame it on the mud and blood that caked her uniform.  It came from her ham hock arms, which felt like sacks of wet cement every time she reached out to catch the ball.  It came from her bulbous belly, which threatened to pull her down to the ground as punishment for eating so much the night before.  It came from her tremendously thick thighs, which slapped together as she raced down the pitch and burned from chaffing and the strain on her overtaxed muscles.  Hell, even her triple chin hurt, but that had less to do with being fat and more to do with nearly getting her jaw dislocated.
    But much like the pirate captain that wears a red jacket so no one sees them bleed, the bruiser butterball refused to let anyone see her flagging.  To do so would spell doom for her team and victory for their opponents, and she was not going to do that when the Bruins still had a chance at pulling through.  Nicole kept her eyes on the prize, even as her heart pounded like a piston in her chest and her cheeks turned red from exertion.
    The only one to catch on was the girl who understood her best—her feeder, her girlfriend, and her feeder girlfriend, Ashton ‘Larkspur’ Michaels.  She often found herself distracted by her lardy lover, from the way Nicole jiggled down the pitch to the way her uniform clung to her like a second skin, but the distraction this time was far from tantalizing.  No one else seemed to notice, but Nicole was running on nothing but fumes; if she kept going, she was liable to collapse on the spot.  The problem was getting her to stop, because not even Ashton had managed to figure that out yet.
    When they were afforded a brief respite after the Rocket’s Number 8 dislocated her ankle, Ashton jogged over to Nicole and asked, “Nicky, how are you holding up?  You’ve played most of the game so far—you want to sub out and take a breather?”
    “And leave my girls without a leader?  As if,” the rotund girl huffed as she clapped her girlfriend on the back.  “I’m seeing this through to the bitter end, one way or the other.”
    Ashton sighed, knowing that it would be easier to pass a camel through the eye of a needle than for Nicole to quit anything.  The brunette bumped hips with her girlfriend and smirked as she said, “Fine, but if you fall and can’t get up, I’m not rolling you off the field.  Maybe you should have cut back on all the pizzas last night, chubs?”
     Nicole stuck her tongue out and gave her belly a slap.  “You kidding?  This tank runs on pepperoni—if anything, I should have asked for a couple slices during halftime.”
    The couple shared a giggle before Ashton ran back down the pitch to prepare for the game to resume, and only then did Nicole allow herself to wince.  She refused to admit it, but in replicating last year’s pre-game feast for good luck, she had gone overboard.  But how was she to refuse?  The girls—and even she herself—were convinced that Nicole’s blubber bestowed fortune, and everyone was having such a good time with it.  And with so many hands caressing her belly and so much pizza that she was pretty sure she was 60% pepperoni now, it was no wonder Nicole had gorged herself so full that she had to be carried back to her room.
    There would be discussions later, perhaps an intervention like what they did for Sangria back in Nicole’s freshman year, but that was for another time.  As long as she could still stand, the lardy Latina was going to see her team to victory—her weight be damned.  Every muscle in her body was squealing like a car on its last legs, but Nicole pushed the pain to the back of her mind as she stamped her feet in the mucky pitch and waited for the game to resume.
    What happened in the last few minutes of the game would go down in history in the Cape Fear Bruins, only being eclipsed ten years later when the Number 8 won the state championship with a broken neck.  The ball went back and forth, with neither team allowing their opponent to gain any ground, and it seemed that the Rockets were content to allow the clock to run out.  But Nicole Valdez would not settle for such an ignominious defeat, and when the ball landed in her plump hands, she made a mad charge for the end of the pitch.
    At her height and weight, Nicole should have been an easy target for the Rockets; all they had to do was trip her up and she would be down for the count.  Tackling her was like trying to tackle a wrecking ball, and any girl unfortunate enough to get in her way was pounded into the mud—literally, in the case of their **.  Those watching swore that clouds of steam came from Nicole’s nostrils as she dashed as fast as her flabby legs could carry her, but none dared get close enough to check.
    Finally, in a moment of déjà-vu, the determined dough ball met her match when she was a hair’s breadth away from the goal line.  It took three Rockets to hold Nicole back, but they stopped her with mere seconds left on the clock—and it was not long before another pair jumped her from behind.  Nicole pushed as much as she could, but even with the slippery ground, she could not gain an inch from her bruiser opponents.  Any momentum came to a grinding halt, and though her teammates rushed to help her out of this maul, it seemed that the Bruins would be going home empty-handed.
    Failure was not an option though, and even though her body was screaming at her, Nicole gritted her teeth and took one mighty step forward.  Then another, and another, on and on, even with the weight of four girls holding her down and her own bulky body guzzling energy like she guzzled junk food.  Nicole felt like a balloon stretched to max capacity, straining to keep it all together, but with a Herculean effort, she crossed over the goal line just as the clock ran out.
    Though the stadium erupted into cheers and Nicole was swarmed by her teammates, the only sound she could hear was the thundering of her heart in her ears.  She had been through the wringer countless times before, but no game had ever taken it out of her like this one had, and she knew exactly what was to blame.  It was the same butterball belly that her teammates playfully patted as they congratulated her and rubbed when they got back to the locker room.  There was an undeniable fact that she had refused to accept but had become impossible to ignore—she was too fat for rugby.
    The thought weighed heavy on her mind as Nicole rode back to school with the rest of the team, all of whom were far too exhausted to carry on despite their victory.  Rugby was never going to be a permanent part of her life, but she always assumed that if she had no choice but to drop it, it would be by injury—not obesity.  Nicole had been playing far longer than she had been fattening up, and for the longest time, her whole identity had been based on being a no-nonsense bone breaker on the pitch.  Now, she was faced with a reality without that outlet in her life, replaced instead by a hedonistic descent into pure gluttony, and the thought sent a chill down her spine.
    Of course, that fear became muddled when she looked down and saw Ashton resting her head on her belly, having passed out not twenty minutes into their return trip.  It was this coat of blubber that had brought them together in the first place, and Nicole could not deny that the road to rotundity had been exquisite.  She had eaten at just about every restaurant in town and tried everything the grocery store had to offer, and all those dishes tasted so much better when fed to her by Ashton or one of her many adoring teammates.  People loved to see her plump up as much as they loved to watch her play, so how could the poor girl say no?
    “Decisions, decisions,” Nicole murmured while she played with one of Ashton’s locks.
    ***
    For the first time in a long time and despite their second state victory in a row, it took the Bruins another week to muster the energy for a celebration party, so battered and beat were they.  But birds must fly, fish must swim, and Bruins must party, especially with the end of the year fast approaching, and a bonfire on the beach was arranged.  There was a buzz of excitement as the girls imagined what they would get up to over the course of the night—skinny dipping, make-outs under the pier, keeping off the dunes out of respect for the environment, and more—but there was one thing that stuck out above all others.  Just how much would Nicole eat that night?
    The butterball herself was not privy to the plans being bounced around, but she heard little murmurings all about her meal as the date drew closer.  Words like ‘barbeque’, ‘cake’, and ‘a metric fuck-ton of pizza’ were thrown around, though this was not out of the ordinary since Nicole had become the team’s feedee.  What was different about this occasion was, unlike the last three years, the growing girl did not find herself especially hungry for a night of wild consumption.
    With just an hour before the party began, Nicole stood in front of her mirror and gazed at the rotund reflection that greeted her.  It was not so long ago that she had been a tiny thing, so much so that her old friend, Trevor, had been able to lift her up over his head without even trying.  Now, he would not be able to lift her more than a few inches of the ground without giving himself a hernia.  Any trace of the supple shortstack she had been before coming to Cape Fear University was buried under almost two hundred pounds of blubber.  It was a predicament that should have been far more alarming to her, but Nicole was more curious than anything else.
    She had dressed up in something that showed off her intimidating physique: a pair of yellow pants that clung to her colossal legs and split her belly into two distinct rolls, and a see-through top that left her bulbous biceps and cavernous cleavage on full display.  Ashton helped pick it out for her some time ago, and even though it was well into the extra-large sizes, it was still not enough to contain the globular girl Nicole had become.  Some girls would have balked at wearing something like this anywhere, much less to a social event as big as an end-of-year party, but such a thought never crossed her mind.
    “I’m fat,” Nicole murmured to herself as she pinched at her flabby arms, then squeezed until she reached something resembling muscle.
    “I’m fat,” Nicole mumbled as she squished her pillowy breasts together, wondering when they had gotten so heavy, full, and sensitive.
    “I’m fat,” Nicole muttered when she lifted her belly and let it drop, sending ripples through her body as it slapped against her thighs.
    “I’m fat,” Nicole maundered while sinking her fingers into her backside, gripping at inches of butter-soft lard that was played with almost as much as her gut.
    Everywhere she looked on her body, Nicole found nothing but fat—even her fingers and toes looked more and more like plump sausages with each passing day.  When she walked around campus, it was more of a waddle than the limber strides she took when she first started school.  She knew she had been piling on the pounds at a frantic rate, given that she was eating for two between herself and Ashton, but she was seeing her bulk in a whole new light.  Ever since the state game, she realized just how taxing it was being a superheavyweight girl, and she had no idea how her mother managed a wrestling career at this weight, much less twice it.
    Years of eating whatever she wanted were taking their toll on her body, and the formerly petite powerhouse stood at a crossroads with a treadmill on one side and a hot dog cart on the other.  It used to be that the rigors of training kept her fitness level on par with her gluttonous appetite, but she was beginning to lose the battle of the bulge as her insatiable hunger threatened to overtake her physical capabilities.  If she wanted to remain the MVP of the Bruins, she would need to make some serious cutbacks in her daily diet and up her time in the gym; if she wanted to roll on like a butterball, she would need to say goodbye to the pitch forever.
    “Eyeing up our handiwork?” Ashton asked as she appeared in the doorway, a smirk on her lips.
    “Kind of,” Nicole replied, her mind still miles away as she weighed out her options.  She pinched along the thick ring of fat that oozed over her waistband and remarked, “I really have let myself go, haven’t I?  Like, I knew I was getting fat, but I didn’t realize I was this fat.”
    Ashton purred as she sauntered into the room and put her hands over Nicole’s.  “You’ve turned into a blue-ribbon porker, my dear—just like I knew you would.  One look at your mom and I could tell that you were destined to be the fattest girl to ever grace this campus.”
    Normally, this sort of talk would have wound up the gleeful gainer, but that teasing left her more subdued than anything.  Nicole rocked in her girlfriend’s arms and hummed, “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through the last game, you know.  I thought for sure I was going to keel over any second; I only kept going because I didn’t want to let the girls down.”
    The room filled with a pregnant silence and the two rocked side to side for a moment before Ashton replied softly, “I know.  You think I couldn’t tell you were slowing down?  I just didn’t want to take you out of the moment.”
    Nicole lay her head back against Ashton’s shoulder and sighed, “I love playing rugby; I’ve been doing it for years.  But I also love almost everything that comes with being fat: the food, how it feels, and how you and the team make me feel when you play with it.  I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be—the tough as nails Nicole, or the big as a house Nicole.”
    “Why not both?” asked Ashton, her hands running along Nicole’s stomach and rubbing gentle circles along the blubbery surface.  “No one says you can’t be a badass when you’re not playing rugby, Nicky, and you don’t have to be a lazy little lump if you want to be fat.  Ever since I first met you and we went to The Trolley Stop with Bricktop, I knew that you weren’t going to let anyone pigeon-hole you into something you’re not.”
    The brunette turned her chunky lover around to look in her eyes as she continued, “If you want to lose weight so you can keep playing, I’ll back you every step of the way; if you want to live the fat life, then I will do everything in my power to keep you fat and happy.  I know that whatever you choose will be what makes you happy.”
    As Nicole let those words sink in, she looked down at the expanse of her stomach and gave it a squeeze.  It was a lot for her to consider, giving up one of the two things that made her happiest, but something had to give before she lost her love for both.  This was a decision she would have to make eventually, and with the promise of a good time ahead, she knew that it would not be solved that evening.  Tonight was a celebration for herself and the Bruins, and she was not going to allow her conundrum to dampen her spirits.
    “You make a good point, Ash,” the tiny, tubby titan hummed after pecking her girlfriend on the cheek.  “I’ll start thinking about that tomorrow.  Tonight, the one thing that’s going to make me happiest is having a damn good time with my girls.”
    “Then let’s hit the road, Nicky,” Ashton purred as she took her girlfriend’s hand once more.
  22. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to ES-Draws in My Pin-up Style Art   
    Hi everyone.
    Thank you for all the kind words, it really does mean a lot. Regarding commissions, I am honored, truly. Sadly my painting schedule is too infrequent, I wouldn't be able to reach deadlines for any commission work. Who knows? Things may change.
    Stay tuned for more soon - I am currently working on a long-term art and literature project. The upcoming sets will be my first with two (!) subjects - with themes of gluttony, hedonism, and a demoness 😈
    For now, here are two line study pieces I worked on earlier this summer. Full disclosure, much of this work has been aided by NastyaSkaya on DeviantArt. As before, there are NSFW versions on my page here: https://www.deviantart.com/es-draws
    Thanks and hope you all enjoy


  23. Hot
    xXWWhiteXx got a reaction from sploicer in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    I thank you all for such positive comments and I apologize this chapter will likely be a bit of a letdown for you.
    It was supposed to contain much more of Jack and Miranda, but it ended being so long I saw no reason in continuing without posting. I wrote it because, I wanted to try a less detailed, more concentrated form of storytelling - please write what you think about it and if you notice any glaring flaws. Two - I'm a huge fan of Ray-Norr's art and since I started writing I wanted to incorporate some ideas based on it. Hopefully, you won't need to read too deeply into it to notice it.
    I hope that you find this chapter will at least worth glancing at and I promise the next one should have much more of the growing cheerleader and her tattoed nemesis.
     
    ***
     
    Chapter 23: Is…is that Interlude?


     
    Two days later
    XO’s office

    Miranda typed on the console looking for useful data. While Shepard and her team were managing down at Aite, the situation was dangerous, to say the least. There was no telling what else this “Overlord” had in store for them. How this situation had been allowed to happen, was a rabbit hole down which the brunette didn’t want to go into for now.

    The ex-Cerberus heard the door’s opening and grimaced for a second. It was none other than Jack.

    The tattooed woman had an expression clearly stating that she would prefer being anywhere but that office, however the convict kept walking.

    Miranda took a deep breath and assumed as neutral pose as she could force herself.

    “Jack, to what do I owe the pleasure ” asked the operative and her voice almost wasn’t dripping with sarcasm.

    The convict stopped before her desk and crossed her arms with a snort.

    “Bite me, cheerleader. Unless you’re too busy munching on fast food” mocked Jack.

    The brunette felt her temper rising, but refused to take the bait. She stared at the thin woman in silence.

    “…fine bitch. I wanted to talk about what you gave me” begrudgingly explained the bald female.

    “I suspected as much. Sit down and I…”

    “And what the hell, happened last time with Shepard?!” exploded Jack and slammed down her hands on the desk.

    The heavier woman managed to squash her mighty desire to slam the degenerate across the room.

    “Sit down. And then I will answer” said Miranda carefully through her teeth. Jack snorted, but sat down on a nearest chair and crossed her arms.

    “So… what the fuck happened when I was there last time? I thought it was some freaky foreplay, but you clearly got no action. Besides it’s not like you need more food tubby” asked the tattooed woman, still mocking. Miranda closed her eyes for a second, she felt exploding at any second.

    “Do you want an explanation or not? Because I’m perfectly happy sitting here in silence” replayed the brunette. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

    “*tsk*…fine cheerleader, don’t get your panties twisted. I’ll be proper”

    Miranda calmed herself, somewhat, and in short, simple words she explained the operation to further secure Oriana from their father. The operative explained laughs and mockery, but Jack just looked like she just ate a lemon.

    “So you’ve been eating like a pig to help cheerleader junior? But what it got to do with Shepard making you into a balloon?” asked the convict. 

    “To answer the first question – in general, yes. Shepard has been… helping me use the eternity of my stomach capability, which is hard on my own” Miranda explained begrudgingly.

    “You just said, you got a shitload of drugs from Shep’s ex for that” pointed Jack with squinted eyes.

    “Yes, but those can have prolonged and strong effects. There’s no point risking that” replied Miranda with annoyance. She really didn’t want to drag this topic further.

    “So you want to make your daddy angry, but you’re don’t want to fatten this blow-up doll body you got from him. You’re making about as much sense like always, Miranda” commented Jack and snickered.

    The brunette was about to bark something off but stopped herself in track. That degenerate did have a… point(?)

    “*Ahem* For what reason you came in for originally. Because I doubt you wanted about my dietary habits” Miranda changed the subject.

    “I want to know why you, the Illusive Fuck's right hand decided to work for Shepard. I don’t believe that you just suddenly grow conscience” said Jack strongly.

    Miranda didn’t want to explain this, but she did. This time the brunette did receive laughter.

    “…haha…they fucked you. They fucked you good. Haha…”

    Miranda listened to laughter mixed with various profanities for a minute before interrupting.

    “Do you want anything else or can I return to doing something productive?” asked the annoyed operative.

    The bald woman managed to stifle her laugh but still spotted a satisficed, mocking grin.

    “Hell yeah, I do. But I’m gonna get smashed after what I heard. Bye princess” replied Jack and, indeed, in good mood, left the supposed XO.

    Miranda wasn’t in good mood but was relieved that the despicable female was away. The brunette, with the effort(she still wasn’t used to extra plush on her body), bent down to retrieve a bottle of Bourbon. Soon she was sipping from the glass.

    She sat in silence for a minute or so. Despite her dislike for the convict, Miranda was forced to accept that Jack's flaws weren’t entirely her fault.

    After the glass shoved bottom, the operative stood up and activated the mirror. There was one thing, that Jack had said, which kept resurfacing in her mind. 

    She removed the top of the generic Cerberus uniform and looked at her reflection. Despite recent changes, Miranda intellectually knew that she was still about attractive as most women, save for those with the deepest case of fatphobia. 

    The brunette was no one’s slave or puppet her mind was her own. However, she had been painfully reminded that her appearance, which she so diligently maintained was a monument to Henry Lawson's vanity and ego.

    The operative clenched her teeth and frowned. From the hidden compartment, she picked a small container. Inside was a set of various drugs and detailed information’s about them.

    Miranda read it, again, and picked few vials. She checked the hour. Good, the mealtime was approaching.

    The XO glanced down at her swollen breasts. When she had weighted herself the day before Miranda had learned she had passed 250 pound threshold. The operative archived it just within few months, despite her strong reluctance and status as a biotic. Surely, with an improved approach, she could hasten the process.

    You wanted a perfect daughter, father? Oh, I’ll make sure, that by end of this mission you won’t be able to look at me, let alone think reclaiming Oriana


     
    ***


     
    Three days later

    Normandy SR-2, Capitan’s quarters


     
    Tali finished drying herself and carefully put on her suit. She exited the bathroom, disabled the field inside before heavily seating herself on the chair by the desk. The quarian informed Shepard that she was available via omnitool and leaned on the piece of furniture.

    Last days had been horrible, nightmarish even. She, a quarian, had been in a base where a xenophobic, terrorist organization developed a homicidal VI that had been out of control. VI, that had been in control of geths, machines that had almost led her people to extinction.

    Fun times all around.

    After return, the commander had told Tali to go rest while she handled Archer siblings and most sensitive materials. The engineer didn’t know how Shepard managed to continue to function, but at the time she had been too tired to argue.

    Tali sighed and checked the time. A curse followed, she had been asleep for many hours. Not unexpected, but she was angry for her lack of assistance.

    The purple-skinned woman checked the console and realized that “radio” silence had been canceled. She had received several messages, but one caught her attention. A notification from Eristena, apparently Zoma was alive and healthy. But it also mentioned that were certain “developments” concerning her fellow quarian. No details, but the thing was fresh so no surprise there.

    However, Tali felt concerned. She may not know Zoma beyond childhood acquaintance, but the engineer still remembered the software prodigy. Most importantly quarians, especially ones outside Flotilla, ought out to look after each other.

    She checked the time on Nos Astra, luckily it was still the day there.

    At once, Tali prepared an encrypted call to the commando. To be honest, she didn’t expect anything more than a written reply, one wasn’t Liara’s valued employee by having free time.

    But after, just five minutes call connected revealing the stoic asari.

    “I hope I’m not interrupting” said Tali in an apologetic tone. Elristena gave her a weary look.

    “To be honest, I’m thankful for it. While I understand the need for proper documentation, paperwork has never been my forte” relied the muscular asari and rubbed her eyes.

    Tali nodded in understanding, it was a foe even Shepard struggled against.

    “I assume you’re calling to learn about your kinsman. As I wrote she is well, although in a peculiar state. I must admit that case is rather… weird” began Eristena.

    “I thought working for Liara guaranteed the weird part, But what did you mean? Did that asari caused troubled or lied about data?” asked Tali, she was getting worried.

    “No, quite opposite in fact. T'mivus was completely cooperative, if firm in her demands. Admittedly the material provided by her is far better than what we hoped for. Liara and her people are still looking through it, but we can start dismantling Eclipse tomorrow if we want. The weird was the situation with T'mivus and Zoma.” Explained the commando and took a sip from the cup.

    “I think it’s best if I start from the beginning. Just wait for the moment…”

    Tali waited for some time. During that time image on the screen flickered, rotated, and disappeared for a second. Simultaneously, the asari’s face betrayed signs of frustration and concentration.

    At last, the commando successfully started sharing screen.

    “Apologies for the delay. Now, after our previous conversation…”


     
    ***


     
    Five days earlier

    Illium, Nos Astra, Red Spirit company conference room


     
    “… but I must ask why did you go to us? It couldn’t be only about money” Eristena asked the asari sitting opposite to her.

    Her ”guest” was around the commando'ss height, but she had the only fraction of musculature. But Eristena saw signs betraying training and experience, besides a fraction of her musculature, in this case, meant noticeably more than most commando. Cerithia’s skin was dark, almost purple, her face was sparsely adorned with simple white markings that ran on her crest’s segments and chin. She had a pleasant enough face, but with sharp cheekbones giving her a sterner look.

    One more thing, despite being readily a little older than Eristena and just recently archiving stage of a matron, T'mivus looked much older. Some unknown worry was clouding her face.

    “You’re one of many companies I considered. But you keep getting a rep as reliable and less messed up than the rest on this planet. That and I made some inquires that suggest that you possess medical facilities on par with some of the best hospitals. And… we need medical attention.” the matron explained and took a deep breath.

    “I would probably research you longer, but then I saw that quarian, Zorah with you lot. I remembered her from vid’s and Zo said that if she really works with you, Reds cannot be unreasonable”

    Eristena eyes squinted for a second, the matron had already mentioned the need for medical attention, but nothing concrete.

    “I understand. What exactly ails you two, so you need such advanced help?” asked the commando carefully.

    “It’s mostly for Zo, I’m fine really. And... I just want the best for her, cover all my bases” said Cerithia a little too quickly.

    “Yet, you used “we” multiple times now. That, and you promised to disclose everything that may affect operations. If there’s a possibility that you may collapse or are contagious this is such information” the muscular asari said.

    The matron’s face twisted in a grimace.

    “I’m not, my state won't in any way affect you” replied Cerithia with annoyance, but Eristena only stared.

    The matron took a deep breath, closed and exhaled.

    “Ok, listen… I’m ill, but… it’s my head there’s something wrong, not with my body” replied older asari with reluctance, bordering on inability.

    “For the longest time, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t myself, even if it’s obvious now. I… hurt her, not physically… not quite, but that’s why I want to make sure she’s fine, has somebody to take care of her. And sometimes I… still have the same urges to… fuck… you’ll see when we go for her” the matron spit out and looked away.

    Eristena nodded slowly.

    “In what state she is Can we…?”

    “Zo’s fine overall, but she has trouble moving on her own and there may be some leaks in her suit. I had to… adjust it, there were no problems but by then I already moved her to a sterile environment, so it needs to be checked”

    “Of course” replied the commando. Considering the situation she didn’t press further.


     
    ***

    Later


     
    Eristena had to admit with the entrance to the apartment was well hidden. It could easily be an entrance to any garage for the company’s VIP.

    She glanced at her team, it was a human/asari mix of medical workers and technicians with two commandos as protection.

    Well and an entire squad waiting in a dropship as well as few turian snipers. Eristena firmly believed in “better safe than sorry” philology.

    However, the head commando was still wondering about certain demands of the matron. Why she needed so many people, she had requested to double numbers and to take equipment for moving fragile cargo.

    “Can only we three go in, for now. I want to be sure the suit’s fine before we try anything else” said Cerithia pointing at the head technician.

    Eristena agreed, and they followed the matron inside. Indeed first room after the generic hallway was akin to an entrance to a cleanroom. The head commando wasn’t too knowledgeable about the topic, according to human female(?) the equipment was good.

    After passing it, they found themselves in a rather sparsely furnished apartment, where everything was easy to clean.

    “Zo, it’s me. I brought people we talked about” T'mivus said into the depths of the complex. The muscular asari first time heard the matron speak in such a soft tone.

    “Great. Please come in I’m ready” answered a voice, much quieter. Eristena was a bit confused, it was clearly a tone of female quarian, filtered through the helmet, but it was more muffled and deeper than she was accustomed to.

    The matron gestured to follow her began walking and they entered the spacious bedroom.

    There were many observations to be done about the place, starting with an abundance of both full and empty food containers, finishing on a cutting-edge workstation.

    At that moment the attention of two guests was solely focused on the room inhabitant.

    “Holy…”


     
    ***


     
    “Keelah” said Tali looking at the image of the other quarian.

    “Yes, that was our reaction as well” admitted Eristena.


     
    ***


     
    “…shit” whispered the technician. The head commando couldn’t fault her(? Wasn’t voice too deep for a female human).

    The muscular asari had seen many things. When her peers were shaking their asses in various bars, Eristena had been working in various combat groups and roaming the galaxy during many deployments. She still vaguely remembered how quarians looked before they had had to don on their suits.

    However, she had never seen anything like Zoma'Naenn nar Rayya. Eristena saw fat humanoids, mostly some lecherous batarians, but also, although she would never say it out loud, Miss T’Soni who was very much bigger than any four-eyed aliens.

    But this quarian…

    “Hello” the suit-covers mass of flesh said happily and waved them. What followed was a strangelly mesmerizing wobble.

    “Ahem… Miss Naenn, I presume. If you would allow Robert would check the integrity of your suit” replied the commando slowly still not sure what she was seeing.

    “Sure, go ahead, but unplug it first” agreed the quarian(?). The technician approached carefully, again this was the most unusual situation.

    Miss Naenn was enormous, not simply fat, comparable in volume to at least one-third of skycar if not more. She was sitting in some gigantic, custom-made seat, but to Eristena she seemed almost as wide as tall. The biggest was belly, a huge mass of flesh split it into two, tire-like folds, that almost took the entirety of quarian’s lap. Perhaps, the only reason that wasn’t the case was that legs were equally filled with lard.

    What little Eristena could see of Zoma’s thighs were almost as large as her own waistline. That would be alarming if she was an average asari, but the commando was a dedicated bodybuilder, most of her body was often described as twice as wide as that of a majority of asari. And lover parts of quarian’s legs weren’t much smaller, Eistena couldn’t even distinguish the backward curve of the legs, even her feet were swollen with adipose.

    By the Goddess… Zoma’s forearms were larger than their host’s waist, and the matron wasn’t without muscles, either. Her arms, while clearly cut off from bags-like forearms, probably had similar circumference to Eristena’s mighty biceps.

    The smallest, were the quarian's bust that, while clearly swollen, didn’t take a third of the enormous upper fold’s length. Naenn long neck seemed to be completely absorbed by her gargantuan torso and her face was obscured by the helmet. Eristena could only imagine the size of the quarian’s posterior.

    All of this mass was soft. The head commando could see it shaking even from the smallest’s of movements.

    Now the muscular understood the need for increased personnel and the equipment.

    When the first shock passed, she also understood the need for technicians. Eristena knew that quarian’s suits were extremely adjustable, but like everything they had limits. This one betrayed similarities to Miss Zorah’s one, mostly color pallet, however, it shoved sights of many careful adjustments.

    All belts had been removed, same with neck-rings and hard, foot part of the suit that served as boots. There were also, many, many large patches of material in a slightly different shade. It was obvious that originally the suit could hold only a fraction of current Miss Naenn, at best. Even the helmet shoved signs of modification and it seemed bigger than any Eristena had seen, so far.

    “Zo do you need anything? You want me to heat something up before we go? Maybe…?” said the matron in a voice several times softer and kinder than Eristena had heard so far. Her entire demeanor changed accordingly, the commando had a hard time connecting it with hard, if professional, a hardened leader had been dealing so for.

    “Stop fussing Cerithia. Just remember to take the things we packed. You can tell me what you got done” the quarian interrupted casually, the muscular asari was sure that anybody else would receive a cold stare or scolding at least. But T'mivus just pulled the chair and, while the technician did proceed with the examination, explained their deal with a small smile.

    The process was prolonged, but humans looked extremely uncomfortable and oppressive stares from matron weren’t helping. Besides gelatinous consistency of flesh that was being covered by the subject of examination did make the matter tricky.

    Eristena observed everything in silence, if there had been any doubt that that the matron and the large quarian were romantically involved, they disappeared. However, the muscular asari had still no idea whatever is wrong with T'mivus’s mental faculties that could cause Miss Naenn to become as she was now.

    Surprisingly enough, the muscular asari had to admit that the quarian didn’t appear repulsive. Of course, it was still a surprise, but relying on her memory and assuming Zoma didn’t possess any severe disfigurations, the supposed appearance of a female under the suit was strangely alluring.

    As Eristena watched the quarian’s flesh jiggle with every hers and technician movement, the commando realized she wouldn’t mind checking just how soft it was…

    “Boss?”

    The human’s voice interrupted her musings. Eristena nodded to her(him?) in acknowledgment.

    “Everything’s green, it should hold through transportation with no problem. Although it could use a bit of…ehhh… more professional overhaul” said the technician a bit nervously, but their host only nodded.

    “I agree. I know my way with tools, but I’m no engineer” the matron admitted calmly.

    “But you still did a great work with it” Zoma praised and, for a second, Cerithia blushed like a love-struck maiden.

    “So are we ready?” the quarian the head commando.

    “Yes, but we need to establish few things. Miss, can you walk?” inquired Eristena bluntly.

    “Aaahhhh… A little bit I need something or someone to support me” Naenn answered and pointed at the solid-looking railing that went between the quarian’s current location and enormous bed. It also went farther into the apartment.

    “We only have to help her past the pressure door. The hallway connects with the garage through a door wide enough to bring equipment. I would only need your technician’s help to decompress it all” the matron said and motioned her hand around.

    Eristena approved and the matron showed her the passage and controls of the garage. Soon the medics went to the apartment and the commando instructed the technicians to prepare loading equipment.

    It was their sounds of shock that brought the muscular asari attention. She checked the source, Zoma, with medics’ help, managed to squeeze herself to them. Eristena could herd rapid wheezing that came from the helmet. Their patient sounded like she had just run an entire marathon.

    “*huff* I…*huff* need a break*huff*” the enormous quarian managed to say between ragged breaths. Under the matron’s cold gaze all workers complied and helped Miss Naenn to sit down by the wall. Cerithia asked(ordered) them to go back for some packages. The asari/human group returned with almost every member bending under the containers' weight.

    Their host pulled a sealed bottle with sterilized water and put its induction port inside her partner's helmet. The quarian began emptying in fast, slow gulps.

    “*huff*… thanks. Quarians' legs may be great for running, but…uuufffff…not so much for lifting” commented Zoma.

    “I know Zo, you said it a few times already” replied the matriarch with good-natured annoyance.

    “But not to them…” argued the obese woman.

    “Couldn’t you just move biotics to move her” said one of the asari technicians.

    T'mivus gave a pointed look, full of doubt about the maiden’s intelligence.

    “The hallway is far too narrow and do you really believe we could move safely to move somebody in what is essentially a barely holding, pressurized flexible bag with fragile equipment. Why do I ever need to explain it D'biefi?” replied the former Eclipse, shirting her attention to the head commando.

    Eristena shrugged.

    “I’m responsible for my commando, not the curriculum of elementary schools” the muscular asari said. From one side she felt a pang of anger at the mercenary, from another… it was pretty obvious and she did hate when asaris answer to every problem was biotics.

    “Is the equipment ready?” the commando to the head technician. In this case, thanks to facial fur Eristena had no problem determining the human's gender.

    “Yes, we may need to tune it up a bit due to the cargo’s fluidly nature. Also, we’ll need to move Missy to the center for it to work” explained the male human.

    “Miss Naenn?”

    “I’m ready, but getting up will be tricky” informed quarian. Eristena nodded and crouched on the enormous woman's side. Their host mirrored her on the other side.

    The introduction to quarian’s flabby body, even though the suit was an… experience. Muscular asari felt herself sinking into soft and warm mass, trying to get a hold on it. Eristena couldn’t compare it to anything she had experienced before, but it was unexpectedly nice. She almost had to fight the urge to embrace the mountain of the female with her entire body.

    “Ready?” the matron’s voice took back her attention.

    “I think so. On three”

    Soon both asari began to straighten their knees. Eristena had to admit it wasn’t easy, weight wasn’t a problem, but finding a handle, wobbly and shifty nature of her cargo was challenging. Zoma seemed to be trying to help but what was left of her muscles did little difference.

    Finally, the obese woman was upright and medical staff joined in. Together they moved several heavy steps to the designed area. Then technicians started to work and soon Zoma was enveloped in the biotic aura.

    “That feels a bit weird” commented the quarian as her body seemed to move like a calm sea.

    “Sorry Miss, it wasn’t designed for people. If something happens say, we’ll try to adjust” said the human technician.

    “Are we ready?” asked Eristena. The sounds of confirmation filled the air.

    As they walked to their transportation the muscular asari could confirm that, indeed, their patient’s butt cheeks were as humongous as the rest of her. They approached in size that human contraption, that some of her younger colleagues were obsessed over, yoga ball. Although from a quarian of this size Eristena had expected a bigger bottom.

    Still, the muscular asari couldn’t help but gaze at the overabundant flesh, that kept moving even under the eezo-powered device gasp. She wondered how it would feel to have that lovely, meaty rump sit on…

    Eristena blinked and snapped out of the haze. She didn’t know what had come over her and it wasn’t merely a shock from the situation. The asari glanced at her team. Despite claims, that human expressions were almost identical to asaris, she kept struggling with them so she focused on her kind.

    All of them were maidens of various ages, but all of their reactions were intriuding. Some of them were sporting a look of barely hidden disgust, however, in most cases, their moods were ranging from morbid curiosity to whatever caused blushes and lip biting.

    So whatever is happening it’s not just me observed the muscular commando.

    She glanced at the abnormally alluring mass of flesh and made a mental note to call their facility so they could prepare bigger sturdier bedding.


     
    ***


     
    Two hours later

     The medical and research facility under Red Spirt’s company patronage

    After a long period of extensive medical examinations and prodding Zoma'Naenn was placed in a special, sterile room. Here she asked for a meal, unsurprisingly as by then, the personnel had been already hearing frankly terrifying groans coming from the gargantuan middle.

    They were in for another shock, apparently, the multiple large bags that come with quarian contained food, and just enough for that meal. The doctors watched with awe as the woman inhaled the unreal meal and had already asked if they could prepare more for her.

    Zoma was just happily finishing eating the last of her supplies. Despite the fact she understood the gravity of the situation she decided to make the best of it.

    Here, in this fairly miraculously equipped hospital, she was once again free of the suit. The only things covering her body were sheets fashioned as makeshift bra and pants. They didn’t have anything in her size which didn’t surprise the quarian.

    Naenn’s overall body didn’t differ much from Eristena observations, although without the suit it sagged a bit more. Her skin had a dark purple shade, save for bright white lines that ran across it. She didn’t possess any disfiguration or even signs of fighting or abuse, save for clear, healed marks from stretchmarks. Zoma’s face was pleasant and as swollen with fat as the rest of her body.

    The door hissed and, in an outfit usually used when dealing viral dangers, entered an asari. Doctor Penina Lini was a bit of an outsider, she was a matron closer to matriarch than a maiden stage, however in this case it was an advantage. Lini had centuries worth of experience in xeno-psychology and she had been in business when quarians hadn't been confined to their ships and suits.

    “Miss Naenn? I’m doctor Penina Lini, if you wouldn’t mind I would like to ask you a few questions” the asari said the cliché line.

    The quarian looked at her and smiled.

    “Sure, but could you pass me a towel and water first?” `asked the obese woman and the psychiatrist did just that.

    “Thanks’”

    “So we have your medical records from a few years ago and obviously they are quite outdated” began Penina as she sat on a nearby hair and glanced at the datapad in her hand.


     
    Zoma'Naenn nar Rayya

    Age: 24 years

    Height(suit less): 5’5”

    Weight: 114,7 pounds


     
    Those were data from five years ago and understandably there were no longer accurate.

    “Mrs T'mivus weren’t exactly clear on the matter, but she seems to consider herself responsible for your current state, even going as far as saying she hurt you. That and that mental illness may be at play here. Considering her erratic behavior when approached about you in conversation, despite her, otherwise, very firm and composed one. That’s why we want to get your side of the story first.” The asari explained calmly.

    “So… you want to know if Cy is crazy and I how got fat?” summarized the flabby quarian almost happily but with knowing glint in her eyes. Despite her demeanor, Zoma wasn’t stupid or naïve.

    The psychiatrist nodded, there was no reason to dance around the subject or lie.

    The almost naked female stared on the asari for few seconds before heavily leaning back, setting waves through her blubber.

    Then she started her tale.


     
    ***

    About five years earlier


     
    Zoma was one lucky quarian. Just a few months from setting off on her pilgrimage she managed to get a fairly decent job on Illium, even without becoming a legal version of a slave.

    Thought it wasn’t undeserved, while she may sometimes act like a ditz, it was mostly just that an act. The young quarian was very good at what she did. And while her job was good it did have downsides.

    Don’t get her wrong, programming mechs and cyber-security for Eclipse was interesting and quite well paid. It’s just that she would appreciate it if most of her co-workers and superiors didn’t act like psychopaths, one comment away from rupturing her suit for fun.

    Which brought her to the situation at hand. After months of successful employment more than several asari and salarians had become little irked by the fact that some suit rat was more competent than them. Zoma already seeing signs of danger decided to terminate her employment contract and defraud some credits as compensation for the hazardous work environment.

    That may be too much wishful thinking on her part, she had to admit it in retrospect. To be exact it resulted in an Eclipse asari pointing a gun at her while checking files, that Zoma had hacked into. The quarian recognized her only from occasional glances.

    “In such a short time you secured almost full access to the system. But only on Illium you didn’t bother with others or perhaps you didn’t know? Still… It’s your lucky day” said the mercenary and gave her a toothy grin.



    What followed was a bit of surprise for Naenn. Instead of impromptu execution, perhaps even tortures, she received a proposition for an alternative form of employment.

    The asari that held her at gunpoint, Cerithia T'mivus looked for a way out as well. She had access, clearance codes as well as knowledge of where and what had been stored. However, the old maiden didn’t have the skills to pull the juicy bits out.

    That’s why…


     
    ***


     
    “Maiden?” doctor Penina asked Cerithia. Few hours after the conversation with the quarian, she was confronting the ex-Eclipse about. Surprisingly enough, the matron didn’t deny anything, save for putting a little different light at the events.

    “Yep, I waited quite a bit for the matron phase to kick in, not that I particularly cared. I have medical data from that time if you are that interested in it” the mercenary confirmed grumpily.

    The psychiatrist merely nodded and made a note. Then they continued.


     
    ***

    …she needed someone like Naenn.

    “You just saved me a lot of time with this stunt of yours” the asari admitted later when they were going over the course.

    The quarian learned with the surprise that the Cerithia was surprisingly reasonable for Eclipse, even if going overboard around her was a bit ill-advised.

    In short: the asari would provide knowledge, equipment, and protection from various eager idiots and Naenn would rip everything they could from Eclipse, under the guise of still working for them.

    In the end, the quarian would safely walk away with a sizable sum of money or something of equal value. Sure it would be a fraction of what T'mivus would take, but considering the circumstances, the Zoma decided not to push her luck, this time.

    Over the course of the following weeks, they began setting things up, mostly in one of the asari safe houses. There they prepared appropriable equipment where, under T'mivus watchful eye, Naenn would leech off on Eclipse resources digitally and gather blackmail.

    Cerithia provided an appropriate excuse with enough derogatory terms and insinuations toward quarian and few even cared to begin with. Some, spiteful towards the more strict leader, that T'mivus was, had come with the theory of quarian whore.


     
    ***


     
    “Sorry, but I must ask. Nobody noticed your absence? How about original work, you were still supposed to do it” inquired the asari doctor.

    “Between that and gathering dirt on Eclipse I didn’t have time for manual labor, but I wasn’t really needed for it anyway. I wrote the code and sent it, anybody that had a bit of experience with mechs could install it later. Often they don’t need it at all, computers usually update automatically” the quarian said and sipped some dense liquid she had brought with her home.

    “I see”


     
    ***


     
    Still, after a few initial hung-ups, the unlikely duo started getting results as well as warm up to each other.

    As Zoma learned, her collaborator differed significantly from other asari in Eclipse. She was extremely practical and calculated, lacking that eagerness for the bloodshed that other yellow-clad mercenaries possessed. The asari also didn’t lack in intelligence, as one of the first members of the group, she was probably the one who realized where all the data went across centuries. That and she wasn’t lacking when dealing with machinery although programming was out of her depth.

    The fact that Cerithia treated her quarian employer on equal footing, despite the clear advantage was also nice. And those mood shifts from serious to disturbingly, cheerfully aggressive were easy to overlook.


     
    ***


     
    “Zoma mentioned that that you suffered from sudden mood changed” mentioned the shrink. The younger matron sighed heavily.

    “Yes, that... I suffer from some rare condition that causes my hormones to go haywire. Nothing life-threatening, I used to even function well enough without meds, but it was making me a bit unpredictable without them. With the current state of Eclipse it was even proving useful sometimes” informed more muscular asari begrudgingly.

    Doctor Lini took another note.


     
    ***


     
    “That didn’t discourage you from working with Cerithia” Penina interrupted the tale.

    “Well it did scare me a bit at first, but it’s not I had I choice, or rather I didn’t think I had. I mean - I'm a quarian and was alive only thanks to how convenient I was to her. Besides she apologized every time and later I realized she was still in control. Like... Ce acted differently but she didn’t do anything wrong, like she was tipsy, but not **, at least at the beginning. Besides it only happened when she didn’t take her medicine” explained the Zoma. The doctor nodded.

    “Thank you. Please continue.


     
    ***


     
    T'mivus come to appreciate somebody who didn’t talk to her with fear, hatred, or a mixture of those two. The young pilgrim was also much more cheerful and honest than all of her current acquaintances. And despite those qualities and a foolhardy attempt where she caught her, Zoma was surprisingly competent.

    So as the months progressed, they become friendlier, until…well… they made sure the more unsavory stories about the quarian’s disappearance gained a grain of truth to sure.


     
    ***


     
    “Miss Naenn, I’m sorry but given the circumstances, I have to ask: did Cerithia forced herself on you?” asked the doctor calmly.

    The quarian blinked at her and exploded with booming laughter, that caused quivers through the pile of adipose that was her body. Soon she also started clapping on her enormous gut, introducing further motion it is. After almost two minutes laughter died and the quarian was gasping for air.

    “*wheeze*… forced, aha, if somebody was being forceful about*wheeze* doing the deed it was me. It was almost*wheeze* as she was the virgin, not I and I didn’t like that whole dancing around the subject. *wheeze* And I was right, it not only was great, but there was no problem with it later” explained Zoma with a wide grin.


     
    ***

    Indeed after the introduction, the pair engaged in more intimate acts frequently and while originally it was firmly a “friends with benefits” kind of arrangement, it too changed quickly.

    One and a half years since their meeting, both asari and the quarian considering themselves romantic partners. And while Zoma had her own, fair share of, mostly not vocalized doubts, the former Eclipse was surprisingly on board with it.

    She did want to have a fresh start and a steady relationship, something the mercenary had been yearning for some time now, with lovely quarian, seemed like a good start.

    The interior and atmosphere inside the hideout occupied by Naenn were starting to become more homely and domestic. Everything seemed to be going great.

    And then Cerithia started entering the matron stage. Unlike most of asari in her case, it wasn’t fast and without complication. The transition didn’t want to come to the conclusion and the mercenary condition wasn’t helping with that. What’s worse, all this made her meds useless.

    However, at “home” her more erratic behavior took the form of more possessive behavior and more spoiling towards her lover. Zoma didn’t mind it, she did like being pampered.

    That was the begging of T'mivus’s insistence that the programmer should take care of herself more and most importantly eat better. Naenn was pretty sure she had already put on few pounds with the lack of movement, save in bed, and regular meals provided by the asari.

    However the quarian did enjoy the attention, and the lavish meals(meals not expensive nutrient paste!!!) were better than Zoma ever had had in the past, even if serving were enormous(at least she had thought so of those snacks at the time).

    Unfortunately, Cerithia’s was becoming more unstable and too enthralled with what she envisioned, she even let slip through few words about children. All of this terrified the quarian a bit, if she were to be honest.

    The programmer loved her asari, she had already accepted it, and she did know it wasn't just hormones talking, but the entire prospect was overwhelming. This would mean abandoning the Flotilla, she had a bit fewer strings attached to it, as Naenn was one of few quarians that had a clear set of problems about how the board was doing things and her immediate family was deceased. Still, this, this would be change everything.

    That’s why Zoma took a habit of sneaking out. For one, to clear her thoughts. For two, she had set a meeting with few doctors hoping they would help. Of course, the quarian was providing false data, save for Cerithia’s condition. But the good ones ignored her assuming Naenn didn’t have money or hers are stolen, and the cheaper ignored the issue or assumed the same as their more capable colleagues.

    As much as she urged her lover to go, the mercenary was running ragged to manage Eclipse, due to unrest in the organization and the asari wasn’t slacking gathering data on her end. And one couldn’t exactly ask for medical leave in a mercenary company.

    Zoma just returned from one of her strolls, but back home she was welcomed with an eerily familiar if unwelcome scene. Cerithia’s gun pointed at her face.

    However the mercenary didn’t look angry, instead, she held a look of extreme sadness and worry.

    “Y… You want to leave? Was I not a good enough partner? I can do better…I will…” whispered T'mivus, her gaze seemed absent. Naenn had seen few instances where her lover's condition took a better of her but never like that. The quarian was now honestly scared, for both of them.

    The quarian tried to reassure her lover, calmly without sudden moves but it was futile. The mercenary seemed to be in her own world.

    “No. I can’t let you go. You’re already neglecting yourself. I’ll take care of you…”

    Zoma wanted to protest, but what she had of self-preservation instinct warned her that argued with her love, who was currently toothing a gun and in the middle of some sort of attack, was a bad idea.

    Meanwhile, Cerithia’s face drastically changed. Instead of a look of misery, it now housed a wide, toothy grin.

    “Yes. I’ll show you that I can take care of you. It won’t be nice at first, but it’ll make everything better” the mercenary informed and put her hand on her lover’s cheek, or rather in the corresponding place on the helmet.

    The following minutes felt like dream to the quarian. She found herself with her hands cuffed behind her back and on the couch. Meanwhile mercenary activated all serializing procedures installed and brought all the packed food next to her.

    Cerithia sat next to her with an opened container with some sort of cake.

    “Every time I look at you I realize just how much I have been neglecting you. Let me fix it” the asari said with that huge grin, opened her helmet, and brought the piece of cake to her face.

    “Open up”

    Seeing no safer option Zoma did just that. The problem is it didn’t end at one piece. She was being fed and fed. The quarian was full halfway the cake. When she asked for a drink the programmer received one immediately. However, after that, stuffing continued relentlessly. 

    “I... can’t eat anymore” moaned the quarian desperately moving her mouth away from the damned cake.

    “Ce…”

    The moment Naenn opened her mouth, food was crammed into her mouth and the mercenary grabbed it, carefully, but giving no chance for escape.

    “Yes, you can sweetheart. We just have to make sure you get used to proper eating” the asari said with that maniacal grin.

    Ultimately, the programmer was forced to devour the entire cake. She didn’t know what was more likely bursting or thriving up, the quarian had never eaten that much at once. Her, already softer, than average quarian’s belly, was now distended, straining the suit.

    T'mivus cleaned and was rubbing bulging mass with visible delight.

    Soon after then headed to bed.

    Zoma thought it was a single instance, a bout of insanity caused by her lover’s condition and stress. She was wrong.

    In the morning everything seemed normal until breakfast. The quarian finished, but then the mercenary appeared next to her, urging her to eat more with this same disturbing smile.

    No amount of words discouraged the asari and soon the situation was the repeat of the day before, leaving Zoma on the brink of explosion.

    The mercenary left, locking the door in a primitive way that completely deterred the programmer’s attempts. But before that, Cerithia showed her lover the ridiculous mountain of food, she expected the quarian to eat.

    With no other choice, Naenn went to work. But the mercenary returned and realized how ”little” food had been eaten, proceeded to tie the programmer to the bed and began pushing edible substances down Zoma’s throat. This time the quarian didn’t manage to hold it all down and part of the half-digested food ended on the floor.

    That event bought Zoma some slack, but only to the next meal.

    This trend continued. The quarian kept being feed by her lover to absolute limits. It was a bit of trial and error, as not always the rich turian cuisine agreed with the programmer.

    However as weeks passed, Zoma was eating, eating and EATING, whatever she wanted to or not.


     
    ***


     
    Doctor Penina stared at Cerithia patiently. The mercenary was sitting in silence with her hands crossed next to her mouth.

    “It…seems so obvious now, but back then… It was so natural, so… clear, after weeks of confusion and chaos I finally knew what to do. And It felt so right to do. Sure Zo was protesting, but it would be for the better in the end” the former Eclipse finally said with shame.

    “And now…?” the shrink inquired.

    “Now I know I shouldn’t feed her like that. But I still feel like it was something I should be doing and I still want to protect, pamper her”


     
    ***


     
    The first months were the worst, the mercenary was in the amok, relentlessly feeding her lover at every opportunity, while still in this disturbingly cheerful mood. By pleading or more forceful approach, the former Eclipse always had her way in this matter. However, it’s important to note that she never struck or violated her lover.

    It wasn’t to say that consumption was the only thing the quarian was doing, no. In fact, the rest of the day was pretty similar to those from before. Only, once again, she was unable to leave and her lover was even more “helpful” than before, even to the point of being subservient.

    And, although the mercenary was extremely firm in certain matters, like: how much the quarian was eating, not exiting the house, and leaving all manual labor to asari. Cerithia was trying to meet Zoma’s every need and whim with that strange cheerfulness that she had developed.

    Basically, all the programmer had to do was to work on the console, stuff herself with food, or be fed and enjoy herself. And with no other, good, choice she did so.

    Obviously, such a lifestyle had consequences.

    Several weeks after Cerithia’s shift in personality, Zoma was tied to the high railing of their bed sitting with straightened legs. She stared darkly as the mercenary was stroking her bulging gut with visible, undiluted joy. The asari had been positively ecstatic since Naenn had started to visibly pack on pounds. There were sizable remains of levo feast next to them.

    Yes, gut. Since the first feeding, the slight bulge had transformed into a soft, spherical mass just a little bit smaller than the hologram used for combat VIs. That wasn’t all, beyond that the quarian clearly felt her suit being tighter all over, mostly around her thighs, forearms, and breasts.

    This gave her an idea. When Cerithia was finishing cleaning, Zoma informed her that this cannot keep up, because her suit won’t hold her much longer.

    The programmer, with hope, realized that her lover’s face took that focused, serious face that had been absent for so long. Then, it disappeared, once again shifting into a grin.

    The following day, the mercenary returned almost an hour later than usual. However, she dragged there a large roll of suspiciously familiar material and unique tools. Zoma knew those items.

    Then after some consultations and thorough cleaning, the former Eclipse gave her lover immune booster and began painstakingly precisely resizing the suit.

    Zoma had to admit that the asari had skills. Sure… Ce had nothing on some quarians back on the flotilla, but the programmer doubted she or the average engineer from the street could do it so well as did her lover.

    Also during the entire time, Cerithia had the calm, focused look, free of the feverish eagerness from last weeks. It was another instance when her former self shone through, which gave the quarian hope.

    After the deed was done, Zoma noticed that suit was loose, but fit well enough. Then she commented there was much fabric left.

    The grin reappeared, but this time it looked as the mercenary tried to control it.

    “We’ll need it later” informed the asari and the programmer realized that if things continue this road then yes, they’re going to need it later.

    Time passed. Naenn’s belly continued to swell and the rest of her body followed as if trying to catch up. Only her breast’s size seemed to barely differ.

    The quarian was well past 250 pounds and approaching 300, when the geth attack on Citadel happened. The duo of lovers watched with widened eyes the report about it, and Zoma was tightly hugging the mercenary with her chubby body pressing into the muscular frame. She stared with disbelief at the destruction wrought by her species’s ancestral enemy.

    The ceremony following geth’s defect was broadcasted and it was then when the programmer the young, spunky Zorah who was being hailed as the hero.

    It was around that time when Cerithia’s state began to calm down. She was still more eager than before and more than happy to feed the quarian to the limit, but mercenary lacked that feverish madness in her eyes. While she still was unable to realize the abnormalities in her behavior, the mercenary was now much more collected, acting more like an overbearing lover whose partner was neglecting herself.

    They had entered into much more comfortable territory. Cerithia actually listened to quarian’s input, save from the object of her obsession, namely the programmer's eating habits and comfort. Zoma was also slowly, and with relief, because Keelah, she had missed it, again becoming intimate with the asari. After her initial bout of insanity, the quarian made no such proposition and refused them as well, the former eclipse always complied.

    This time they didn't have to bother with the suit, thanks to sterilizing systems Cerithia had had installed some weeks before. That and the pilgrim had quickly adapted to asari's biology.

    It was awkward at first, Zoma wasn’t exactly shy, but her lover’s bouts of insanity made her more careful and her larg…eh… fat body caused her to feel self-conscious. However, this time it was Cerithia, who was eager and, as soon asari got the hands on the programmer’s folds, shocked the quarian with her energy.

    Afterward, Zoma was lying on the bed, panting and covered in sweat. The mercenary had groped and tasted every inch of, swelled with the adipose, body. At that moment the programmer started to think that her figure wasn’t that bad.

    If she was being honest, by then, the quarian needed very little persuasion to gorge herself. She had never been fussy about eating and months of being stuffed to the absolute limit left her with quite the appetite. The programmer kept snacking with little to no input from her conscious mind and sometimes gorged herself into a food coma even without Cerithia around. Even nightly treks to the fridge were becoming more frequent.

    The mercenary was absolutely delighted that her love was embracing this gluttonous lifestyle. However, this brought a few, slight issues. Sometimes, the mercenary couldn’t gauge how much she could push down her lover’s gullet and Zoma could avoid ending as a balloon.

    But Cerithia had spent much of her life as a high-ranking operative in a vicious mercenary company, she quickly learned when the programmer was putting on the show. Besides, the quarian did that rarely, her newly gained greed demanded more and more food.

    Life went on. During all this time they kept gathering data on Eclipse, but for Zoma it was mostly filled with a stream of calories, constantly going down to her stomach, which were filling her, already large, body. She watched as her partner slowly but surely was regaining her former personality, save for the constant, if not so psychotic, insistence on fattening and spoiling the quarian. During all this time they kept gathering data on Eclipse.

    Unfortunately, all this new bulk wasn’t without consequences.

    This happened during one more than usually passionate lovemaking session.

    Last months changed Zoma, her already enlarged body had progressed outward. Round gut became a large, soft bag of fat that took a third of the quarian’s lap. It was still, mostly a single mass but had split into two pairs of love handles at the sides and the division into two folds progressed as the gluttonous organ grew. When the programmer was moving her arms, she felt a jiggle of growing bingowings, that didn’t as much hang as encased her forearms. Zoma’s face was appropriately affected, her checks now round and according to the mercenary “cute”. The only thing shrinking was the quarian’s neck, which was being absorbed by the swelling torso and adipose that was filling her face.

    The least affected was her breasts, which seemed to mostly ignore the onslaught of calories, grooving barely an inch total. Also, It was getting hard to distinguish the curve of her calves, then there were thighs, which were about as wide as her waist had used to, that needed to be split quite far apart to not be touching.

    Like when they needed to accommodate the head of the purple-skinned asari, who was busy bringing ecstasy to their obese owner. Just like the day the incident happened.

    Seemingly everything was more than fine. Cerithia was busy between her lover’s meaty legs, while her delighted victim was clutching bedsheets and moaning between gaps for air. The soft flesh was wobbling with fervor, the asari was in a feisty mood that day.

    Zoma already noticed that she was breathing harder than usual, but by now the quarian was used to all activities getting more and more tiring, so she ignored it. Besides the mercenary was outdoing herself that day.

    At first, moans were completely replaced by panting, soon after quarian’s breaths started to get quicker, more shallow.

    Then Zoma realized she was struggling to get a sufficient amount of oxygen to her lungs.

    The programmer started to panic. She wanted to shout, but her mouth was too preoccupied gasping for the precious air. So the quarian started to wriggle and squeeze her legs, that’s all she could do.

    Nowadays it took Zoma a fair bit of effort to move, not to mention the extra adipose restricted her range of movement. But at that moment, when her body struggled with little oxygen and orgasmic pleasure assaulting her, every limb felt like made from a molten lead and emerged in jelly.

    There was no chance of lifting her incredible bulk from the bed, even rolling from it.

    After few terrible seconds, the purple-skinned asari raised her head with a mixture of ecstasy and annoyance visible on it. But one look on her suffering lover and her state was enough for Cerithia to leapt with help.

    The mercenary cursed and moved next to her girlfriend, not caring for the remains of clothes dangling from her. With her considerable strength, further increased by adrenaline, she managed to get Zoma into a sitting position.

    The Eclipse defector shouted a few instructions and checked quarian’s status with omnitool, it was modified with much more advanced medicals features than normal. Cerithia hissed when she read the diagnosis.

    With speed worthy of an Olympic athlete, the asari ran into another room. She returned carrying a large medical case, towel, distilled water, and a small, medical can with oxygen.

    Meanwhile, Zoma tried to, with clear struggle, to follow her lover’s instructions and regain her breath.

    A plastic mask was pressed to her face and a wave of glorious, pure oxygen entered her lungs.

    After over a minute of such treatment, the programmer felt much better. She managed to raise her hand and took the can from the mercenary. With an affirmative nod and a weak smile from Zoma, the asari left her the device. Then Cerithia once again checked her omnitool and calmed down a bit, her lover’s state was stabilising.

    Once the danger passed, both laid on the bed, exhausted. The quarian was on the verge of falling asleep and her partner felt like she had just relived the most dangerous operation from her past. Despite this, the mercenary carefully, but adamantly led the programmer to the bathroom, gave her immunity boosters, and helped her lover clothe into her suit.

    During the entire procedure, Zoma was barely coherent and fallen into dreamless sleep immediately after.

    When she woke up, the quarian realized that she was alone. It was a bit odd given the hour, but she almost immediately focused on the various, still warm, dishes that were ling on trays next to bed. Another oddity was a note from Cerithia with a firm request to remain in her suit that day.

    That soured the programmer’s mood a bit, by then she was used to being free of the confines of her ever-modified suit. However she complied, her lover rarely told her to do something without reason.

    The rest of the day followed usually, writing new software and hacking into Eclipse databases while happily gorging. That day Zoma was limited to various pastes, but the mercenary had provided only the best and tastiest. Only a few times, the quarian paused and rubbed place, where her heart was buried under inches of soft blubber.

    Hours passed and Cerithia wasn’t returning. It was well past her usual return and the former pilgrim was worrying.

    Out of nowhere, she received a notice about decompression. Zoma checked it, in the garage space was her lover with several containers. They were clearly too big to bring inside without opening both sides of pressure doors.

    Well that explains why Ce wanted me in the suit, but what’s in those boxes?

    Doors opened and only with the faintest of greetings the mercenary began moving cargo.

    Now Zoma was really worried. Her love’s face was absent, eyes were gazing far away like she was in some trance. To be honest the asari did behave like hypnotized, mechanically moving boxes without a word.

    The quarian managed to get herself off her large chair and with effort waddle to the mercenary. When Cerithia didn’t respond to her call, the programmer tried to grab her. She succeeded the third time, the flabby arms weren’t used to movement outside typing.

    The asari stopped, but her gaze was elsewhere. At first, she wasn’t responding to Zoam’s inquires then started to answer monosyllabically, something about medical equipment, when prompted about the containers

    Then out of nowhere, the hardened mercenary started to shake and her face twisted, seemingly on the verge of crying.

    The programmer had never before seen her lover in such state, in some ways, it was more worrying than reverting into this cheerful-psychotic state from months before.

    With some gentle prompting and a bit of towing, or the quarian's attempts on it, Cerithia left the container and both sat on the bed.

    The purple face was twisting, only sheer will stopping tears, but few simple questions from the quarians opened the flood gates of the mercenary mouth.

    The incident from the day before affected the asari much more than Zoma. Cerithia was blaming herself for the lack of oversight, neglecting her girlfriend’s needs. This worry was borderline…no…it was hysterical and the quarian realized that: one - the only thing holding her lover together was her self-control, two –that wasn’t exactly normal.

    The next hour, the programmer spend reassuring the asari that everything was fine and she didn’t blame her.

    After the mercenary regained some of her composure, she informed the programmer that inside the containers were parts for the medical system. The best one Cerithia could buy and reliably operate. It would monitor Zoma’s health much better than some flimsy omnitool and if necessary provide limited medical attention as well as warn about potential dangers.

    The former pilgrim didn’t protest, save from saying that the Cerithia should consult it with her before buying. It was clear to Zoma that any complaints in this regard would fall on deaf ears. Besides, considering recent developments, it wasn’t exactly a bad purchase.

    The mercenary moved the containers inside and the quarian managed to convince her to go to sleep.

    The following weeks were hard for both of them. What little time Cerithia had between her position in Eclipse and her blackmail gathering activities, the mercenary spend installing the medical system. It was a complex beast, that clearly wasn’t intended for civilian installation. It barely left time to prepare meals for her lover.

    On the other side of the spectrum as the large quarian was still worrying as her asari seemed once again to fall into an obsessive state and was working herself to the bone. That and her access to food had been greatly reduced, both due to her personal’s chef’s lack of time and constant barrier caused by the suit, she had to keep on due to mess inside the house.

    The lack of sex also was a painful blow. The programmer didn’t know how she had managed to function before without it.

    All of this put a damper on Zoma’s growth despite that, as ashamed she was to admit, that there were a few instances when she used Cerithia’s slavish devotion to pamper her in order to make her stop working and prepare feasts.

    Still, after weeks of back-breaking labor, the system was set and the apartment decontaminated.

    What followed was the most ridiculous feeding session so far and night of ravishing intimacy during which the quarian’s role was limited to lying down, immobilized by her near-bursting gut.

    Strangely enough this time the programmer felt none of the tightens in the chest from last time.

    Life regained its previous rhythm, Zoma’s was once again swelling with astounding speed. Soon enough another consequence of a gluttonous lifestyle began apparent.

    The quarian’s had long since noticed that movement was getting harder and harder. While she was a little above average female quarian height, but not like almost freakishly tall Tali, her frame was being weighted down roughly by 500 pounds of pure adipose. That and Zoma was never an example of physical proneness, unlike her lover…I’m mean did you see her muscles…, and what little musculature she had, was falling to entropy due to her sedentary lifestyle.

    Those days it was getting next to impossible for her to alone move from her bed or chair. So the programmer had asked Cerithia to install a special set of railings to help her move. The mercenary agreed happily, but only so without this sickly cheerfulness. The muscular asari was improving.

    This was mostly similar to installing the medical systems but much simpler and stress-free. It should be also much faster, but this time the Eclipse defector wasn’t working to the physical limit. And of course, she needed to spend much more time cooking than the previous time. Zoma was a growing girl after all and her needs had increased since then.

    But the quarian realized that it was only a matter of time before she was completely reliant on outside assistance, even if her lover seemed completely ignorant to it. While she didn’t exactly know how Zoma was aware something had to be done.

    Fortunately, she was a lucky quarian. 😉

    It didn’t happen overnight, but Cerithia was back mostly to her old self. Then she started to question the state of things and become aware of her lapses in thought. It was nothing concrete at first, but that feeling of something being wrong keep increasing.

    One afternoon a breakthrough happened.

    Zoma was lying naked on the bed, her thick legs too wide to lay together and making a place for her gargantuan, split into two rolls, stomach. At this point, the quarian was almost as big as when Eristena and her people come to get her.

    Next to her was Cerithia, only in trousers and a sleeveless shirt with a bowl of half-molten ice cream on her knees and spoon in hand.

    Both were in great moods, but between spoonfuls of gooey goodness, Zoma asked one joking question.

    “One day you’ll have to tell me why you want me so big”

    And opened her mouth for another portion, but the spoon froze halfway. A confusion was visible on the mercenary face and then distress. She started mumbling asking herself question’s, the nonsensical, mad decision of actions that Cerithia had done during those last years seemed to suddenly rush to her. The asari started to panic freak out, nearly shouting.

    Fortunately, despite her extremely limited mobility, Zoma by then knew what worked on her lover, even in times of distress. She, admittedly with effort and after some time, managed to calm her asari down. Soon after, the shaking mercenary was lying on the bed, tightly clutching to the massive mass of fat that was her girlfriend. Both fell asleep soon after.

    In the following days, there were more similar occurrences, but Cerithia was getting a better handle on them and becoming moreover of her abnormal behavior. She didn’t know what to do, for the first time in centuries.

    But Zoma had an idea and finally, she convinced her lover to visit a doctor. It took a few days to find somebody appropriate.

    That visit provided some interesting information.

    The doctor chastised the mercenary for not coming sooner. Apparently, Cerithia condition had a particularly nasty form of transition into matron that didn’t fully finish, even at that time. The medic was surprised that the asari managed to even properly function at that time. For now, she received a prescription for medication and see another meeting. The Eclipse commander failed to mention her exact symptoms.

    The pills helped. After a week, Cerithia had better control of herself and was aware of what she had been doing, even if her memory was hazy at some points.

    The downside of this was that this knowledge nearly caused the mercenary to develop into full-blown depression, she was blaming herself.

    But Zoma didn’t, not really and successfully, if barely, convinced her lover of it and that she wanted to stay with her.

    Instead, the quarian presented a task. It was clear that they needed somebody to buy Eclipe’s secrets and provide them with protection. Both needed medical attention, Cerithia still wasn’t fully fine and the programmer needed assistance in everyday tasks.



    So the Eclipse defector started to look for an appropriate buyer.

    During that period few facts became apparent. The asari a few times offered to help Zoma with light exercises in order to start shedding weight. All of them were forced, though the mercenary hid it well.

    Pills or no pills, Cerithia still adored her girlfriend's enormous body, her gargantuan ass, bigger belly, and equally swelled limbs. She still loved feeding and pampering the programmer.

    The quarian long since learned to love overindulgence and her adipose provided unexpected if welcome possibilities in the bedroom. Besides, it was so soft and jiggly.

    Zoma happily kept eating more every day and allowed herself to be fed to the joy of both lovers.

    Then the news of Tali bossing the Red Spirit’s personnel with their boss blessing reached the duo.


     
    ***


     
    “And that’s about it doc” finished the gigantic quarian and with effort shifted on the bed.

    Doctor Penina still absorbed the incredible tale, trying to maintain a neutral expression. It sounded like the plot of some poor novel, but evidence…

    “Ahem… thank you, Miss. I’ll likely have some more questions later. For now, let’s focus on something else” said the psychiatrist.

    Per the contract you had signed we are to provide you necessary medical attention and safety. I know this must be hard, but perhaps you should consider filing a restraining order…”

    “No” interrupted the quarian, her voice, and eyes filed with a hardness that was completely different from her earlier stance. It didn’t fit this bubbly, perhaps even bit air-headed programmer.

    “I know what you are thinking, but I’m not abandoning Cy. Sure, what she did to me wasn’t exactly pleasant at first, but right now Cerithia needs me perhaps more than ever before. I know how this sounds, especially with this body of mine, but that's true. Besides, save this pampering obsession she didn’t do anything bad, and she could easily. I never was much of a fighter” explained Zoma firmly, somehow leaving no room for argument.

    Doctor Lini nodded, making mental note to investigate the matter and if necessary return to the topic.

    “I see. Then I’ll be going, if you need anything please ask. Also, I believe that dietician familiar with quarian physiology was already contacted so soon we’ll be able to help with your… figure” informed the shrink with a small smile and got up.

    “Nah, don’t bother. I don’t really want to lose it”

    That made Penina pause.

    “Excuse me?”

    “I told you doc. Cy may be sorry about what she did, but she still loves that sweet bod of mine. And it’s not like I want to stop stuffing my face before all of this I didn’t know eating could feel so good” replied the programmer, she put her hands on the mound of blubber that was her gut and set her entire body in motion.

    For some reason, the sight of this blob jiggling body made the doctor's throat dry.

    “So unless all those specialists from before say I need to, I don’t want to lose a pound. If you want to do something for me, doctor, could you get for me some real food and not nutrient paste. And tell Cy I want to see her when she has the time”

    The psychiatrist swallowed the saliva, the show still fresh in her mind. She hoped that her patient will need some direct help in the future, curious how all this flesh felt up close…

    “Very well, I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, Miss Naenn, try to get some rest. I believe that tomorrow will be demanding as well” said the doctor.

    Zoma groaned but nodded. At least Penina thought it was a nod, all this flesh was making it hard to tell. Soon after the doctor left.


     
    ***


     
    Tali was gaping at the screen, despite the fact it only once again only showed the muscular commando. Only her helmet hid from the asari that her mouth was open.

    “That’s the thick of it. Since then I have been getting loads of data, that Liara wants me to get familiar with for future operations. From what I managed to get from medical personnel, Naenn’s health is stable despite her weight. Your onboard medic, Mordin, can probably explain it better. He has been cooperating with our specialists and those data had been forwarded to him as well when you lifted data silence. Why exactly you had to employ it?” said Eristena.

    The quarian was still a bit dazed so it took her a few seconds to reply.

    “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I should tell. Liara’s going to be brief, so you should ask her. Sorry” replied the embarrassed engineer, but the commando didn’t seem fazed.

    “That’s fine. If I didn’t have a direct order from Miss T’Soni I wouldn’t have disclosed the previous informations either” informed Eristena plainly.

    “ahem… thanks. How Zoma’s now?” asked Tali.

    “I’m not quite up to date on this, but from I heard surprisingly good. We’re setting her a more comfortable environment, she’s getting regular visits from T'mivus. Your kinsman keeps refusing any suggestions about losing her weight, even surgically, but at the same time is already offering her services in the same fashion she did to Eclipse. Seeing as our techs are already praising her work, that may just happen” reported the commando and after a second added.

    “Would you like me to arrange me a video call?”

    “Mmmm… yes please, but’s that nothing urgent, I don’t want to trouble eighter of us. Last thing…How…how much Zoma weights?” Tali asked the question that had been on her mind since she had seen the obese quarian.

    “If I remember correctly around 600 pounds” replied the head commando.

    “On the unrelated note. It may interest you that our people assigned on Zhu Hope managed to mostly deal with colonist illness. What’s more, Shiala found a bondmate and is expecting” added Eristena with the smallest hint of a smile on the tired face.

    They exchanged pleasantries and the call disconnected.

    Tali remained silent, deep in thought. After such a draining mission, another bombshell had been dropped on her head. What’s more, it ha quite a lot of similarities to her own situation.

    The quarian was sitting there, trying to wrap her head around this all when something that was neither purr nor growl was heard behind her back.

    “600 pounds? That’s quite a number and that Zoma is much shorter than you, right?”

    How in the name of ancestors, somebody that tall is so quiet? thought Tali when a shiver ran through her body. She didn’t turn back, the engineer knew what was there.

    That pale, tall being with a smile that shouldn’t be humanly possible and red lines seemingly trying to burn through the skin.

    “Shepard, are you done with everything?... eeem… how long you were here?” asked the quarian suddenly very nervous.

    “Hmm… the boy is in medical, safe and our want-to-be Frankenstein secured. The moment he tries anything Grunt gets a new toy. I’m afraid we can’t do much more, we leave the rest to the Shadow Broker. And… well I was here long enough” answered the commander and placed her hands on Tali’s shoulders.

    The quarian felt the ling fingers even through the suit, suddenly aware how much they sunk into her flesh.

    “Ah…you sure they don’t need my…”

    “Stop”

    Shepard’s voice was seemingly sweet, pleasant, but for some reason left no room for argument.

    “I hate the fact that for those last days you were wasting away and was being so exploited. Now I heard that some Eclipse merc managed to get such delicious results. That’s why for the next several days I make sure you rest and eat properly. While that T'mivus seems sensible I HATE to be outdone”

    Tali swallowed. She was again trapped in the clutches of this human-shaped predator, her love.

    And she knew she was going to love it.



     
  24. Like
    xXWWhiteXx reacted to Hirsch von Bork in Florent Maudoux   
    Recently I’ve purchased Freeks squeele: Kim Traüma, the latest comic-book by F. Maudoux.
    Besides the marvelous artwork and the bizarre plot, it is worth mentioning here because Monsieur Maudoux has introduced many WG/BBW scenes. It's the best example I've ever seen of subtly introducing fat fetishism  themes in a comic intended for the general public.
    As far as I could understand using my poor French, the eponymous character Kim is a small girl that gets super powers ( namely flying and magical tatooing) by eating a burger (!) with the convenient side-effects of her body swelling as she gained 100 pounds. For reasons only we can understand, each transformation includes good views of her underwear ( wich seems to be made of the same elastic fabric as Bruce Banner pants). After using her powers she gets exhausted and shrinks to a emaciated figure due to the ‘loss of energy’.
    Here goes her first transformation. It doesn't mind if you don't understand French because  it doesn't make much sense  anyway.



  25. Hot
    xXWWhiteXx got a reaction from Batman76 in Mass Effect: Observing Gains   
    I thank you all for such positive comments and I apologize this chapter will likely be a bit of a letdown for you.
    It was supposed to contain much more of Jack and Miranda, but it ended being so long I saw no reason in continuing without posting. I wrote it because, I wanted to try a less detailed, more concentrated form of storytelling - please write what you think about it and if you notice any glaring flaws. Two - I'm a huge fan of Ray-Norr's art and since I started writing I wanted to incorporate some ideas based on it. Hopefully, you won't need to read too deeply into it to notice it.
    I hope that you find this chapter will at least worth glancing at and I promise the next one should have much more of the growing cheerleader and her tattoed nemesis.
     
    ***
     
    Chapter 23: Is…is that Interlude?


     
    Two days later
    XO’s office

    Miranda typed on the console looking for useful data. While Shepard and her team were managing down at Aite, the situation was dangerous, to say the least. There was no telling what else this “Overlord” had in store for them. How this situation had been allowed to happen, was a rabbit hole down which the brunette didn’t want to go into for now.

    The ex-Cerberus heard the door’s opening and grimaced for a second. It was none other than Jack.

    The tattooed woman had an expression clearly stating that she would prefer being anywhere but that office, however the convict kept walking.

    Miranda took a deep breath and assumed as neutral pose as she could force herself.

    “Jack, to what do I owe the pleasure ” asked the operative and her voice almost wasn’t dripping with sarcasm.

    The convict stopped before her desk and crossed her arms with a snort.

    “Bite me, cheerleader. Unless you’re too busy munching on fast food” mocked Jack.

    The brunette felt her temper rising, but refused to take the bait. She stared at the thin woman in silence.

    “…fine bitch. I wanted to talk about what you gave me” begrudgingly explained the bald female.

    “I suspected as much. Sit down and I…”

    “And what the hell, happened last time with Shepard?!” exploded Jack and slammed down her hands on the desk.

    The heavier woman managed to squash her mighty desire to slam the degenerate across the room.

    “Sit down. And then I will answer” said Miranda carefully through her teeth. Jack snorted, but sat down on a nearest chair and crossed her arms.

    “So… what the fuck happened when I was there last time? I thought it was some freaky foreplay, but you clearly got no action. Besides it’s not like you need more food tubby” asked the tattooed woman, still mocking. Miranda closed her eyes for a second, she felt exploding at any second.

    “Do you want an explanation or not? Because I’m perfectly happy sitting here in silence” replayed the brunette. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

    “*tsk*…fine cheerleader, don’t get your panties twisted. I’ll be proper”

    Miranda calmed herself, somewhat, and in short, simple words she explained the operation to further secure Oriana from their father. The operative explained laughs and mockery, but Jack just looked like she just ate a lemon.

    “So you’ve been eating like a pig to help cheerleader junior? But what it got to do with Shepard making you into a balloon?” asked the convict. 

    “To answer the first question – in general, yes. Shepard has been… helping me use the eternity of my stomach capability, which is hard on my own” Miranda explained begrudgingly.

    “You just said, you got a shitload of drugs from Shep’s ex for that” pointed Jack with squinted eyes.

    “Yes, but those can have prolonged and strong effects. There’s no point risking that” replied Miranda with annoyance. She really didn’t want to drag this topic further.

    “So you want to make your daddy angry, but you’re don’t want to fatten this blow-up doll body you got from him. You’re making about as much sense like always, Miranda” commented Jack and snickered.

    The brunette was about to bark something off but stopped herself in track. That degenerate did have a… point(?)

    “*Ahem* For what reason you came in for originally. Because I doubt you wanted about my dietary habits” Miranda changed the subject.

    “I want to know why you, the Illusive Fuck's right hand decided to work for Shepard. I don’t believe that you just suddenly grow conscience” said Jack strongly.

    Miranda didn’t want to explain this, but she did. This time the brunette did receive laughter.

    “…haha…they fucked you. They fucked you good. Haha…”

    Miranda listened to laughter mixed with various profanities for a minute before interrupting.

    “Do you want anything else or can I return to doing something productive?” asked the annoyed operative.

    The bald woman managed to stifle her laugh but still spotted a satisficed, mocking grin.

    “Hell yeah, I do. But I’m gonna get smashed after what I heard. Bye princess” replied Jack and, indeed, in good mood, left the supposed XO.

    Miranda wasn’t in good mood but was relieved that the despicable female was away. The brunette, with the effort(she still wasn’t used to extra plush on her body), bent down to retrieve a bottle of Bourbon. Soon she was sipping from the glass.

    She sat in silence for a minute or so. Despite her dislike for the convict, Miranda was forced to accept that Jack's flaws weren’t entirely her fault.

    After the glass shoved bottom, the operative stood up and activated the mirror. There was one thing, that Jack had said, which kept resurfacing in her mind. 

    She removed the top of the generic Cerberus uniform and looked at her reflection. Despite recent changes, Miranda intellectually knew that she was still about attractive as most women, save for those with the deepest case of fatphobia. 

    The brunette was no one’s slave or puppet her mind was her own. However, she had been painfully reminded that her appearance, which she so diligently maintained was a monument to Henry Lawson's vanity and ego.

    The operative clenched her teeth and frowned. From the hidden compartment, she picked a small container. Inside was a set of various drugs and detailed information’s about them.

    Miranda read it, again, and picked few vials. She checked the hour. Good, the mealtime was approaching.

    The XO glanced down at her swollen breasts. When she had weighted herself the day before Miranda had learned she had passed 250 pound threshold. The operative archived it just within few months, despite her strong reluctance and status as a biotic. Surely, with an improved approach, she could hasten the process.

    You wanted a perfect daughter, father? Oh, I’ll make sure, that by end of this mission you won’t be able to look at me, let alone think reclaiming Oriana


     
    ***


     
    Three days later

    Normandy SR-2, Capitan’s quarters


     
    Tali finished drying herself and carefully put on her suit. She exited the bathroom, disabled the field inside before heavily seating herself on the chair by the desk. The quarian informed Shepard that she was available via omnitool and leaned on the piece of furniture.

    Last days had been horrible, nightmarish even. She, a quarian, had been in a base where a xenophobic, terrorist organization developed a homicidal VI that had been out of control. VI, that had been in control of geths, machines that had almost led her people to extinction.

    Fun times all around.

    After return, the commander had told Tali to go rest while she handled Archer siblings and most sensitive materials. The engineer didn’t know how Shepard managed to continue to function, but at the time she had been too tired to argue.

    Tali sighed and checked the time. A curse followed, she had been asleep for many hours. Not unexpected, but she was angry for her lack of assistance.

    The purple-skinned woman checked the console and realized that “radio” silence had been canceled. She had received several messages, but one caught her attention. A notification from Eristena, apparently Zoma was alive and healthy. But it also mentioned that were certain “developments” concerning her fellow quarian. No details, but the thing was fresh so no surprise there.

    However, Tali felt concerned. She may not know Zoma beyond childhood acquaintance, but the engineer still remembered the software prodigy. Most importantly quarians, especially ones outside Flotilla, ought out to look after each other.

    She checked the time on Nos Astra, luckily it was still the day there.

    At once, Tali prepared an encrypted call to the commando. To be honest, she didn’t expect anything more than a written reply, one wasn’t Liara’s valued employee by having free time.

    But after, just five minutes call connected revealing the stoic asari.

    “I hope I’m not interrupting” said Tali in an apologetic tone. Elristena gave her a weary look.

    “To be honest, I’m thankful for it. While I understand the need for proper documentation, paperwork has never been my forte” relied the muscular asari and rubbed her eyes.

    Tali nodded in understanding, it was a foe even Shepard struggled against.

    “I assume you’re calling to learn about your kinsman. As I wrote she is well, although in a peculiar state. I must admit that case is rather… weird” began Eristena.

    “I thought working for Liara guaranteed the weird part, But what did you mean? Did that asari caused troubled or lied about data?” asked Tali, she was getting worried.

    “No, quite opposite in fact. T'mivus was completely cooperative, if firm in her demands. Admittedly the material provided by her is far better than what we hoped for. Liara and her people are still looking through it, but we can start dismantling Eclipse tomorrow if we want. The weird was the situation with T'mivus and Zoma.” Explained the commando and took a sip from the cup.

    “I think it’s best if I start from the beginning. Just wait for the moment…”

    Tali waited for some time. During that time image on the screen flickered, rotated, and disappeared for a second. Simultaneously, the asari’s face betrayed signs of frustration and concentration.

    At last, the commando successfully started sharing screen.

    “Apologies for the delay. Now, after our previous conversation…”


     
    ***


     
    Five days earlier

    Illium, Nos Astra, Red Spirit company conference room


     
    “… but I must ask why did you go to us? It couldn’t be only about money” Eristena asked the asari sitting opposite to her.

    Her ”guest” was around the commando'ss height, but she had the only fraction of musculature. But Eristena saw signs betraying training and experience, besides a fraction of her musculature, in this case, meant noticeably more than most commando. Cerithia’s skin was dark, almost purple, her face was sparsely adorned with simple white markings that ran on her crest’s segments and chin. She had a pleasant enough face, but with sharp cheekbones giving her a sterner look.

    One more thing, despite being readily a little older than Eristena and just recently archiving stage of a matron, T'mivus looked much older. Some unknown worry was clouding her face.

    “You’re one of many companies I considered. But you keep getting a rep as reliable and less messed up than the rest on this planet. That and I made some inquires that suggest that you possess medical facilities on par with some of the best hospitals. And… we need medical attention.” the matron explained and took a deep breath.

    “I would probably research you longer, but then I saw that quarian, Zorah with you lot. I remembered her from vid’s and Zo said that if she really works with you, Reds cannot be unreasonable”

    Eristena eyes squinted for a second, the matron had already mentioned the need for medical attention, but nothing concrete.

    “I understand. What exactly ails you two, so you need such advanced help?” asked the commando carefully.

    “It’s mostly for Zo, I’m fine really. And... I just want the best for her, cover all my bases” said Cerithia a little too quickly.

    “Yet, you used “we” multiple times now. That, and you promised to disclose everything that may affect operations. If there’s a possibility that you may collapse or are contagious this is such information” the muscular asari said.

    The matron’s face twisted in a grimace.

    “I’m not, my state won't in any way affect you” replied Cerithia with annoyance, but Eristena only stared.

    The matron took a deep breath, closed and exhaled.

    “Ok, listen… I’m ill, but… it’s my head there’s something wrong, not with my body” replied older asari with reluctance, bordering on inability.

    “For the longest time, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t myself, even if it’s obvious now. I… hurt her, not physically… not quite, but that’s why I want to make sure she’s fine, has somebody to take care of her. And sometimes I… still have the same urges to… fuck… you’ll see when we go for her” the matron spit out and looked away.

    Eristena nodded slowly.

    “In what state she is Can we…?”

    “Zo’s fine overall, but she has trouble moving on her own and there may be some leaks in her suit. I had to… adjust it, there were no problems but by then I already moved her to a sterile environment, so it needs to be checked”

    “Of course” replied the commando. Considering the situation she didn’t press further.


     
    ***

    Later


     
    Eristena had to admit with the entrance to the apartment was well hidden. It could easily be an entrance to any garage for the company’s VIP.

    She glanced at her team, it was a human/asari mix of medical workers and technicians with two commandos as protection.

    Well and an entire squad waiting in a dropship as well as few turian snipers. Eristena firmly believed in “better safe than sorry” philology.

    However, the head commando was still wondering about certain demands of the matron. Why she needed so many people, she had requested to double numbers and to take equipment for moving fragile cargo.

    “Can only we three go in, for now. I want to be sure the suit’s fine before we try anything else” said Cerithia pointing at the head technician.

    Eristena agreed, and they followed the matron inside. Indeed first room after the generic hallway was akin to an entrance to a cleanroom. The head commando wasn’t too knowledgeable about the topic, according to human female(?) the equipment was good.

    After passing it, they found themselves in a rather sparsely furnished apartment, where everything was easy to clean.

    “Zo, it’s me. I brought people we talked about” T'mivus said into the depths of the complex. The muscular asari first time heard the matron speak in such a soft tone.

    “Great. Please come in I’m ready” answered a voice, much quieter. Eristena was a bit confused, it was clearly a tone of female quarian, filtered through the helmet, but it was more muffled and deeper than she was accustomed to.

    The matron gestured to follow her began walking and they entered the spacious bedroom.

    There were many observations to be done about the place, starting with an abundance of both full and empty food containers, finishing on a cutting-edge workstation.

    At that moment the attention of two guests was solely focused on the room inhabitant.

    “Holy…”


     
    ***


     
    “Keelah” said Tali looking at the image of the other quarian.

    “Yes, that was our reaction as well” admitted Eristena.


     
    ***


     
    “…shit” whispered the technician. The head commando couldn’t fault her(? Wasn’t voice too deep for a female human).

    The muscular asari had seen many things. When her peers were shaking their asses in various bars, Eristena had been working in various combat groups and roaming the galaxy during many deployments. She still vaguely remembered how quarians looked before they had had to don on their suits.

    However, she had never seen anything like Zoma'Naenn nar Rayya. Eristena saw fat humanoids, mostly some lecherous batarians, but also, although she would never say it out loud, Miss T’Soni who was very much bigger than any four-eyed aliens.

    But this quarian…

    “Hello” the suit-covers mass of flesh said happily and waved them. What followed was a strangelly mesmerizing wobble.

    “Ahem… Miss Naenn, I presume. If you would allow Robert would check the integrity of your suit” replied the commando slowly still not sure what she was seeing.

    “Sure, go ahead, but unplug it first” agreed the quarian(?). The technician approached carefully, again this was the most unusual situation.

    Miss Naenn was enormous, not simply fat, comparable in volume to at least one-third of skycar if not more. She was sitting in some gigantic, custom-made seat, but to Eristena she seemed almost as wide as tall. The biggest was belly, a huge mass of flesh split it into two, tire-like folds, that almost took the entirety of quarian’s lap. Perhaps, the only reason that wasn’t the case was that legs were equally filled with lard.

    What little Eristena could see of Zoma’s thighs were almost as large as her own waistline. That would be alarming if she was an average asari, but the commando was a dedicated bodybuilder, most of her body was often described as twice as wide as that of a majority of asari. And lover parts of quarian’s legs weren’t much smaller, Eistena couldn’t even distinguish the backward curve of the legs, even her feet were swollen with adipose.

    By the Goddess… Zoma’s forearms were larger than their host’s waist, and the matron wasn’t without muscles, either. Her arms, while clearly cut off from bags-like forearms, probably had similar circumference to Eristena’s mighty biceps.

    The smallest, were the quarian's bust that, while clearly swollen, didn’t take a third of the enormous upper fold’s length. Naenn long neck seemed to be completely absorbed by her gargantuan torso and her face was obscured by the helmet. Eristena could only imagine the size of the quarian’s posterior.

    All of this mass was soft. The head commando could see it shaking even from the smallest’s of movements.

    Now the muscular understood the need for increased personnel and the equipment.

    When the first shock passed, she also understood the need for technicians. Eristena knew that quarian’s suits were extremely adjustable, but like everything they had limits. This one betrayed similarities to Miss Zorah’s one, mostly color pallet, however, it shoved sights of many careful adjustments.

    All belts had been removed, same with neck-rings and hard, foot part of the suit that served as boots. There were also, many, many large patches of material in a slightly different shade. It was obvious that originally the suit could hold only a fraction of current Miss Naenn, at best. Even the helmet shoved signs of modification and it seemed bigger than any Eristena had seen, so far.

    “Zo do you need anything? You want me to heat something up before we go? Maybe…?” said the matron in a voice several times softer and kinder than Eristena had heard so far. Her entire demeanor changed accordingly, the commando had a hard time connecting it with hard, if professional, a hardened leader had been dealing so for.

    “Stop fussing Cerithia. Just remember to take the things we packed. You can tell me what you got done” the quarian interrupted casually, the muscular asari was sure that anybody else would receive a cold stare or scolding at least. But T'mivus just pulled the chair and, while the technician did proceed with the examination, explained their deal with a small smile.

    The process was prolonged, but humans looked extremely uncomfortable and oppressive stares from matron weren’t helping. Besides gelatinous consistency of flesh that was being covered by the subject of examination did make the matter tricky.

    Eristena observed everything in silence, if there had been any doubt that that the matron and the large quarian were romantically involved, they disappeared. However, the muscular asari had still no idea whatever is wrong with T'mivus’s mental faculties that could cause Miss Naenn to become as she was now.

    Surprisingly enough, the muscular asari had to admit that the quarian didn’t appear repulsive. Of course, it was still a surprise, but relying on her memory and assuming Zoma didn’t possess any severe disfigurations, the supposed appearance of a female under the suit was strangely alluring.

    As Eristena watched the quarian’s flesh jiggle with every hers and technician movement, the commando realized she wouldn’t mind checking just how soft it was…

    “Boss?”

    The human’s voice interrupted her musings. Eristena nodded to her(him?) in acknowledgment.

    “Everything’s green, it should hold through transportation with no problem. Although it could use a bit of…ehhh… more professional overhaul” said the technician a bit nervously, but their host only nodded.

    “I agree. I know my way with tools, but I’m no engineer” the matron admitted calmly.

    “But you still did a great work with it” Zoma praised and, for a second, Cerithia blushed like a love-struck maiden.

    “So are we ready?” the quarian the head commando.

    “Yes, but we need to establish few things. Miss, can you walk?” inquired Eristena bluntly.

    “Aaahhhh… A little bit I need something or someone to support me” Naenn answered and pointed at the solid-looking railing that went between the quarian’s current location and enormous bed. It also went farther into the apartment.

    “We only have to help her past the pressure door. The hallway connects with the garage through a door wide enough to bring equipment. I would only need your technician’s help to decompress it all” the matron said and motioned her hand around.

    Eristena approved and the matron showed her the passage and controls of the garage. Soon the medics went to the apartment and the commando instructed the technicians to prepare loading equipment.

    It was their sounds of shock that brought the muscular asari attention. She checked the source, Zoma, with medics’ help, managed to squeeze herself to them. Eristena could herd rapid wheezing that came from the helmet. Their patient sounded like she had just run an entire marathon.

    “*huff* I…*huff* need a break*huff*” the enormous quarian managed to say between ragged breaths. Under the matron’s cold gaze all workers complied and helped Miss Naenn to sit down by the wall. Cerithia asked(ordered) them to go back for some packages. The asari/human group returned with almost every member bending under the containers' weight.

    Their host pulled a sealed bottle with sterilized water and put its induction port inside her partner's helmet. The quarian began emptying in fast, slow gulps.

    “*huff*… thanks. Quarians' legs may be great for running, but…uuufffff…not so much for lifting” commented Zoma.

    “I know Zo, you said it a few times already” replied the matriarch with good-natured annoyance.

    “But not to them…” argued the obese woman.

    “Couldn’t you just move biotics to move her” said one of the asari technicians.

    T'mivus gave a pointed look, full of doubt about the maiden’s intelligence.

    “The hallway is far too narrow and do you really believe we could move safely to move somebody in what is essentially a barely holding, pressurized flexible bag with fragile equipment. Why do I ever need to explain it D'biefi?” replied the former Eclipse, shirting her attention to the head commando.

    Eristena shrugged.

    “I’m responsible for my commando, not the curriculum of elementary schools” the muscular asari said. From one side she felt a pang of anger at the mercenary, from another… it was pretty obvious and she did hate when asaris answer to every problem was biotics.

    “Is the equipment ready?” the commando to the head technician. In this case, thanks to facial fur Eristena had no problem determining the human's gender.

    “Yes, we may need to tune it up a bit due to the cargo’s fluidly nature. Also, we’ll need to move Missy to the center for it to work” explained the male human.

    “Miss Naenn?”

    “I’m ready, but getting up will be tricky” informed quarian. Eristena nodded and crouched on the enormous woman's side. Their host mirrored her on the other side.

    The introduction to quarian’s flabby body, even though the suit was an… experience. Muscular asari felt herself sinking into soft and warm mass, trying to get a hold on it. Eristena couldn’t compare it to anything she had experienced before, but it was unexpectedly nice. She almost had to fight the urge to embrace the mountain of the female with her entire body.

    “Ready?” the matron’s voice took back her attention.

    “I think so. On three”

    Soon both asari began to straighten their knees. Eristena had to admit it wasn’t easy, weight wasn’t a problem, but finding a handle, wobbly and shifty nature of her cargo was challenging. Zoma seemed to be trying to help but what was left of her muscles did little difference.

    Finally, the obese woman was upright and medical staff joined in. Together they moved several heavy steps to the designed area. Then technicians started to work and soon Zoma was enveloped in the biotic aura.

    “That feels a bit weird” commented the quarian as her body seemed to move like a calm sea.

    “Sorry Miss, it wasn’t designed for people. If something happens say, we’ll try to adjust” said the human technician.

    “Are we ready?” asked Eristena. The sounds of confirmation filled the air.

    As they walked to their transportation the muscular asari could confirm that, indeed, their patient’s butt cheeks were as humongous as the rest of her. They approached in size that human contraption, that some of her younger colleagues were obsessed over, yoga ball. Although from a quarian of this size Eristena had expected a bigger bottom.

    Still, the muscular asari couldn’t help but gaze at the overabundant flesh, that kept moving even under the eezo-powered device gasp. She wondered how it would feel to have that lovely, meaty rump sit on…

    Eristena blinked and snapped out of the haze. She didn’t know what had come over her and it wasn’t merely a shock from the situation. The asari glanced at her team. Despite claims, that human expressions were almost identical to asaris, she kept struggling with them so she focused on her kind.

    All of them were maidens of various ages, but all of their reactions were intriuding. Some of them were sporting a look of barely hidden disgust, however, in most cases, their moods were ranging from morbid curiosity to whatever caused blushes and lip biting.

    So whatever is happening it’s not just me observed the muscular commando.

    She glanced at the abnormally alluring mass of flesh and made a mental note to call their facility so they could prepare bigger sturdier bedding.


     
    ***


     
    Two hours later

     The medical and research facility under Red Spirt’s company patronage

    After a long period of extensive medical examinations and prodding Zoma'Naenn was placed in a special, sterile room. Here she asked for a meal, unsurprisingly as by then, the personnel had been already hearing frankly terrifying groans coming from the gargantuan middle.

    They were in for another shock, apparently, the multiple large bags that come with quarian contained food, and just enough for that meal. The doctors watched with awe as the woman inhaled the unreal meal and had already asked if they could prepare more for her.

    Zoma was just happily finishing eating the last of her supplies. Despite the fact she understood the gravity of the situation she decided to make the best of it.

    Here, in this fairly miraculously equipped hospital, she was once again free of the suit. The only things covering her body were sheets fashioned as makeshift bra and pants. They didn’t have anything in her size which didn’t surprise the quarian.

    Naenn’s overall body didn’t differ much from Eristena observations, although without the suit it sagged a bit more. Her skin had a dark purple shade, save for bright white lines that ran across it. She didn’t possess any disfiguration or even signs of fighting or abuse, save for clear, healed marks from stretchmarks. Zoma’s face was pleasant and as swollen with fat as the rest of her body.

    The door hissed and, in an outfit usually used when dealing viral dangers, entered an asari. Doctor Penina Lini was a bit of an outsider, she was a matron closer to matriarch than a maiden stage, however in this case it was an advantage. Lini had centuries worth of experience in xeno-psychology and she had been in business when quarians hadn't been confined to their ships and suits.

    “Miss Naenn? I’m doctor Penina Lini, if you wouldn’t mind I would like to ask you a few questions” the asari said the cliché line.

    The quarian looked at her and smiled.

    “Sure, but could you pass me a towel and water first?” `asked the obese woman and the psychiatrist did just that.

    “Thanks’”

    “So we have your medical records from a few years ago and obviously they are quite outdated” began Penina as she sat on a nearby hair and glanced at the datapad in her hand.


     
    Zoma'Naenn nar Rayya

    Age: 24 years

    Height(suit less): 5’5”

    Weight: 114,7 pounds


     
    Those were data from five years ago and understandably there were no longer accurate.

    “Mrs T'mivus weren’t exactly clear on the matter, but she seems to consider herself responsible for your current state, even going as far as saying she hurt you. That and that mental illness may be at play here. Considering her erratic behavior when approached about you in conversation, despite her, otherwise, very firm and composed one. That’s why we want to get your side of the story first.” The asari explained calmly.

    “So… you want to know if Cy is crazy and I how got fat?” summarized the flabby quarian almost happily but with knowing glint in her eyes. Despite her demeanor, Zoma wasn’t stupid or naïve.

    The psychiatrist nodded, there was no reason to dance around the subject or lie.

    The almost naked female stared on the asari for few seconds before heavily leaning back, setting waves through her blubber.

    Then she started her tale.


     
    ***

    About five years earlier


     
    Zoma was one lucky quarian. Just a few months from setting off on her pilgrimage she managed to get a fairly decent job on Illium, even without becoming a legal version of a slave.

    Thought it wasn’t undeserved, while she may sometimes act like a ditz, it was mostly just that an act. The young quarian was very good at what she did. And while her job was good it did have downsides.

    Don’t get her wrong, programming mechs and cyber-security for Eclipse was interesting and quite well paid. It’s just that she would appreciate it if most of her co-workers and superiors didn’t act like psychopaths, one comment away from rupturing her suit for fun.

    Which brought her to the situation at hand. After months of successful employment more than several asari and salarians had become little irked by the fact that some suit rat was more competent than them. Zoma already seeing signs of danger decided to terminate her employment contract and defraud some credits as compensation for the hazardous work environment.

    That may be too much wishful thinking on her part, she had to admit it in retrospect. To be exact it resulted in an Eclipse asari pointing a gun at her while checking files, that Zoma had hacked into. The quarian recognized her only from occasional glances.

    “In such a short time you secured almost full access to the system. But only on Illium you didn’t bother with others or perhaps you didn’t know? Still… It’s your lucky day” said the mercenary and gave her a toothy grin.



    What followed was a bit of surprise for Naenn. Instead of impromptu execution, perhaps even tortures, she received a proposition for an alternative form of employment.

    The asari that held her at gunpoint, Cerithia T'mivus looked for a way out as well. She had access, clearance codes as well as knowledge of where and what had been stored. However, the old maiden didn’t have the skills to pull the juicy bits out.

    That’s why…


     
    ***


     
    “Maiden?” doctor Penina asked Cerithia. Few hours after the conversation with the quarian, she was confronting the ex-Eclipse about. Surprisingly enough, the matron didn’t deny anything, save for putting a little different light at the events.

    “Yep, I waited quite a bit for the matron phase to kick in, not that I particularly cared. I have medical data from that time if you are that interested in it” the mercenary confirmed grumpily.

    The psychiatrist merely nodded and made a note. Then they continued.


     
    ***

    …she needed someone like Naenn.

    “You just saved me a lot of time with this stunt of yours” the asari admitted later when they were going over the course.

    The quarian learned with the surprise that the Cerithia was surprisingly reasonable for Eclipse, even if going overboard around her was a bit ill-advised.

    In short: the asari would provide knowledge, equipment, and protection from various eager idiots and Naenn would rip everything they could from Eclipse, under the guise of still working for them.

    In the end, the quarian would safely walk away with a sizable sum of money or something of equal value. Sure it would be a fraction of what T'mivus would take, but considering the circumstances, the Zoma decided not to push her luck, this time.

    Over the course of the following weeks, they began setting things up, mostly in one of the asari safe houses. There they prepared appropriable equipment where, under T'mivus watchful eye, Naenn would leech off on Eclipse resources digitally and gather blackmail.

    Cerithia provided an appropriate excuse with enough derogatory terms and insinuations toward quarian and few even cared to begin with. Some, spiteful towards the more strict leader, that T'mivus was, had come with the theory of quarian whore.


     
    ***


     
    “Sorry, but I must ask. Nobody noticed your absence? How about original work, you were still supposed to do it” inquired the asari doctor.

    “Between that and gathering dirt on Eclipse I didn’t have time for manual labor, but I wasn’t really needed for it anyway. I wrote the code and sent it, anybody that had a bit of experience with mechs could install it later. Often they don’t need it at all, computers usually update automatically” the quarian said and sipped some dense liquid she had brought with her home.

    “I see”


     
    ***


     
    Still, after a few initial hung-ups, the unlikely duo started getting results as well as warm up to each other.

    As Zoma learned, her collaborator differed significantly from other asari in Eclipse. She was extremely practical and calculated, lacking that eagerness for the bloodshed that other yellow-clad mercenaries possessed. The asari also didn’t lack in intelligence, as one of the first members of the group, she was probably the one who realized where all the data went across centuries. That and she wasn’t lacking when dealing with machinery although programming was out of her depth.

    The fact that Cerithia treated her quarian employer on equal footing, despite the clear advantage was also nice. And those mood shifts from serious to disturbingly, cheerfully aggressive were easy to overlook.


     
    ***


     
    “Zoma mentioned that that you suffered from sudden mood changed” mentioned the shrink. The younger matron sighed heavily.

    “Yes, that... I suffer from some rare condition that causes my hormones to go haywire. Nothing life-threatening, I used to even function well enough without meds, but it was making me a bit unpredictable without them. With the current state of Eclipse it was even proving useful sometimes” informed more muscular asari begrudgingly.

    Doctor Lini took another note.


     
    ***


     
    “That didn’t discourage you from working with Cerithia” Penina interrupted the tale.

    “Well it did scare me a bit at first, but it’s not I had I choice, or rather I didn’t think I had. I mean - I'm a quarian and was alive only thanks to how convenient I was to her. Besides she apologized every time and later I realized she was still in control. Like... Ce acted differently but she didn’t do anything wrong, like she was tipsy, but not **, at least at the beginning. Besides it only happened when she didn’t take her medicine” explained the Zoma. The doctor nodded.

    “Thank you. Please continue.


     
    ***


     
    T'mivus come to appreciate somebody who didn’t talk to her with fear, hatred, or a mixture of those two. The young pilgrim was also much more cheerful and honest than all of her current acquaintances. And despite those qualities and a foolhardy attempt where she caught her, Zoma was surprisingly competent.

    So as the months progressed, they become friendlier, until…well… they made sure the more unsavory stories about the quarian’s disappearance gained a grain of truth to sure.


     
    ***


     
    “Miss Naenn, I’m sorry but given the circumstances, I have to ask: did Cerithia forced herself on you?” asked the doctor calmly.

    The quarian blinked at her and exploded with booming laughter, that caused quivers through the pile of adipose that was her body. Soon she also started clapping on her enormous gut, introducing further motion it is. After almost two minutes laughter died and the quarian was gasping for air.

    “*wheeze*… forced, aha, if somebody was being forceful about*wheeze* doing the deed it was me. It was almost*wheeze* as she was the virgin, not I and I didn’t like that whole dancing around the subject. *wheeze* And I was right, it not only was great, but there was no problem with it later” explained Zoma with a wide grin.


     
    ***

    Indeed after the introduction, the pair engaged in more intimate acts frequently and while originally it was firmly a “friends with benefits” kind of arrangement, it too changed quickly.

    One and a half years since their meeting, both asari and the quarian considering themselves romantic partners. And while Zoma had her own, fair share of, mostly not vocalized doubts, the former Eclipse was surprisingly on board with it.

    She did want to have a fresh start and a steady relationship, something the mercenary had been yearning for some time now, with lovely quarian, seemed like a good start.

    The interior and atmosphere inside the hideout occupied by Naenn were starting to become more homely and domestic. Everything seemed to be going great.

    And then Cerithia started entering the matron stage. Unlike most of asari in her case, it wasn’t fast and without complication. The transition didn’t want to come to the conclusion and the mercenary condition wasn’t helping with that. What’s worse, all this made her meds useless.

    However, at “home” her more erratic behavior took the form of more possessive behavior and more spoiling towards her lover. Zoma didn’t mind it, she did like being pampered.

    That was the begging of T'mivus’s insistence that the programmer should take care of herself more and most importantly eat better. Naenn was pretty sure she had already put on few pounds with the lack of movement, save in bed, and regular meals provided by the asari.

    However the quarian did enjoy the attention, and the lavish meals(meals not expensive nutrient paste!!!) were better than Zoma ever had had in the past, even if serving were enormous(at least she had thought so of those snacks at the time).

    Unfortunately, Cerithia’s was becoming more unstable and too enthralled with what she envisioned, she even let slip through few words about children. All of this terrified the quarian a bit, if she were to be honest.

    The programmer loved her asari, she had already accepted it, and she did know it wasn't just hormones talking, but the entire prospect was overwhelming. This would mean abandoning the Flotilla, she had a bit fewer strings attached to it, as Naenn was one of few quarians that had a clear set of problems about how the board was doing things and her immediate family was deceased. Still, this, this would be change everything.

    That’s why Zoma took a habit of sneaking out. For one, to clear her thoughts. For two, she had set a meeting with few doctors hoping they would help. Of course, the quarian was providing false data, save for Cerithia’s condition. But the good ones ignored her assuming Naenn didn’t have money or hers are stolen, and the cheaper ignored the issue or assumed the same as their more capable colleagues.

    As much as she urged her lover to go, the mercenary was running ragged to manage Eclipse, due to unrest in the organization and the asari wasn’t slacking gathering data on her end. And one couldn’t exactly ask for medical leave in a mercenary company.

    Zoma just returned from one of her strolls, but back home she was welcomed with an eerily familiar if unwelcome scene. Cerithia’s gun pointed at her face.

    However the mercenary didn’t look angry, instead, she held a look of extreme sadness and worry.

    “Y… You want to leave? Was I not a good enough partner? I can do better…I will…” whispered T'mivus, her gaze seemed absent. Naenn had seen few instances where her lover's condition took a better of her but never like that. The quarian was now honestly scared, for both of them.

    The quarian tried to reassure her lover, calmly without sudden moves but it was futile. The mercenary seemed to be in her own world.

    “No. I can’t let you go. You’re already neglecting yourself. I’ll take care of you…”

    Zoma wanted to protest, but what she had of self-preservation instinct warned her that argued with her love, who was currently toothing a gun and in the middle of some sort of attack, was a bad idea.

    Meanwhile, Cerithia’s face drastically changed. Instead of a look of misery, it now housed a wide, toothy grin.

    “Yes. I’ll show you that I can take care of you. It won’t be nice at first, but it’ll make everything better” the mercenary informed and put her hand on her lover’s cheek, or rather in the corresponding place on the helmet.

    The following minutes felt like dream to the quarian. She found herself with her hands cuffed behind her back and on the couch. Meanwhile mercenary activated all serializing procedures installed and brought all the packed food next to her.

    Cerithia sat next to her with an opened container with some sort of cake.

    “Every time I look at you I realize just how much I have been neglecting you. Let me fix it” the asari said with that huge grin, opened her helmet, and brought the piece of cake to her face.

    “Open up”

    Seeing no safer option Zoma did just that. The problem is it didn’t end at one piece. She was being fed and fed. The quarian was full halfway the cake. When she asked for a drink the programmer received one immediately. However, after that, stuffing continued relentlessly. 

    “I... can’t eat anymore” moaned the quarian desperately moving her mouth away from the damned cake.

    “Ce…”

    The moment Naenn opened her mouth, food was crammed into her mouth and the mercenary grabbed it, carefully, but giving no chance for escape.

    “Yes, you can sweetheart. We just have to make sure you get used to proper eating” the asari said with that maniacal grin.

    Ultimately, the programmer was forced to devour the entire cake. She didn’t know what was more likely bursting or thriving up, the quarian had never eaten that much at once. Her, already softer, than average quarian’s belly, was now distended, straining the suit.

    T'mivus cleaned and was rubbing bulging mass with visible delight.

    Soon after then headed to bed.

    Zoma thought it was a single instance, a bout of insanity caused by her lover’s condition and stress. She was wrong.

    In the morning everything seemed normal until breakfast. The quarian finished, but then the mercenary appeared next to her, urging her to eat more with this same disturbing smile.

    No amount of words discouraged the asari and soon the situation was the repeat of the day before, leaving Zoma on the brink of explosion.

    The mercenary left, locking the door in a primitive way that completely deterred the programmer’s attempts. But before that, Cerithia showed her lover the ridiculous mountain of food, she expected the quarian to eat.

    With no other choice, Naenn went to work. But the mercenary returned and realized how ”little” food had been eaten, proceeded to tie the programmer to the bed and began pushing edible substances down Zoma’s throat. This time the quarian didn’t manage to hold it all down and part of the half-digested food ended on the floor.

    That event bought Zoma some slack, but only to the next meal.

    This trend continued. The quarian kept being feed by her lover to absolute limits. It was a bit of trial and error, as not always the rich turian cuisine agreed with the programmer.

    However as weeks passed, Zoma was eating, eating and EATING, whatever she wanted to or not.


     
    ***


     
    Doctor Penina stared at Cerithia patiently. The mercenary was sitting in silence with her hands crossed next to her mouth.

    “It…seems so obvious now, but back then… It was so natural, so… clear, after weeks of confusion and chaos I finally knew what to do. And It felt so right to do. Sure Zo was protesting, but it would be for the better in the end” the former Eclipse finally said with shame.

    “And now…?” the shrink inquired.

    “Now I know I shouldn’t feed her like that. But I still feel like it was something I should be doing and I still want to protect, pamper her”


     
    ***


     
    The first months were the worst, the mercenary was in the amok, relentlessly feeding her lover at every opportunity, while still in this disturbingly cheerful mood. By pleading or more forceful approach, the former Eclipse always had her way in this matter. However, it’s important to note that she never struck or violated her lover.

    It wasn’t to say that consumption was the only thing the quarian was doing, no. In fact, the rest of the day was pretty similar to those from before. Only, once again, she was unable to leave and her lover was even more “helpful” than before, even to the point of being subservient.

    And, although the mercenary was extremely firm in certain matters, like: how much the quarian was eating, not exiting the house, and leaving all manual labor to asari. Cerithia was trying to meet Zoma’s every need and whim with that strange cheerfulness that she had developed.

    Basically, all the programmer had to do was to work on the console, stuff herself with food, or be fed and enjoy herself. And with no other, good, choice she did so.

    Obviously, such a lifestyle had consequences.

    Several weeks after Cerithia’s shift in personality, Zoma was tied to the high railing of their bed sitting with straightened legs. She stared darkly as the mercenary was stroking her bulging gut with visible, undiluted joy. The asari had been positively ecstatic since Naenn had started to visibly pack on pounds. There were sizable remains of levo feast next to them.

    Yes, gut. Since the first feeding, the slight bulge had transformed into a soft, spherical mass just a little bit smaller than the hologram used for combat VIs. That wasn’t all, beyond that the quarian clearly felt her suit being tighter all over, mostly around her thighs, forearms, and breasts.

    This gave her an idea. When Cerithia was finishing cleaning, Zoma informed her that this cannot keep up, because her suit won’t hold her much longer.

    The programmer, with hope, realized that her lover’s face took that focused, serious face that had been absent for so long. Then, it disappeared, once again shifting into a grin.

    The following day, the mercenary returned almost an hour later than usual. However, she dragged there a large roll of suspiciously familiar material and unique tools. Zoma knew those items.

    Then after some consultations and thorough cleaning, the former Eclipse gave her lover immune booster and began painstakingly precisely resizing the suit.

    Zoma had to admit that the asari had skills. Sure… Ce had nothing on some quarians back on the flotilla, but the programmer doubted she or the average engineer from the street could do it so well as did her lover.

    Also during the entire time, Cerithia had the calm, focused look, free of the feverish eagerness from last weeks. It was another instance when her former self shone through, which gave the quarian hope.

    After the deed was done, Zoma noticed that suit was loose, but fit well enough. Then she commented there was much fabric left.

    The grin reappeared, but this time it looked as the mercenary tried to control it.

    “We’ll need it later” informed the asari and the programmer realized that if things continue this road then yes, they’re going to need it later.

    Time passed. Naenn’s belly continued to swell and the rest of her body followed as if trying to catch up. Only her breast’s size seemed to barely differ.

    The quarian was well past 250 pounds and approaching 300, when the geth attack on Citadel happened. The duo of lovers watched with widened eyes the report about it, and Zoma was tightly hugging the mercenary with her chubby body pressing into the muscular frame. She stared with disbelief at the destruction wrought by her species’s ancestral enemy.

    The ceremony following geth’s defect was broadcasted and it was then when the programmer the young, spunky Zorah who was being hailed as the hero.

    It was around that time when Cerithia’s state began to calm down. She was still more eager than before and more than happy to feed the quarian to the limit, but mercenary lacked that feverish madness in her eyes. While she still was unable to realize the abnormalities in her behavior, the mercenary was now much more collected, acting more like an overbearing lover whose partner was neglecting herself.

    They had entered into much more comfortable territory. Cerithia actually listened to quarian’s input, save from the object of her obsession, namely the programmer's eating habits and comfort. Zoma was also slowly, and with relief, because Keelah, she had missed it, again becoming intimate with the asari. After her initial bout of insanity, the quarian made no such proposition and refused them as well, the former eclipse always complied.

    This time they didn't have to bother with the suit, thanks to sterilizing systems Cerithia had had installed some weeks before. That and the pilgrim had quickly adapted to asari's biology.

    It was awkward at first, Zoma wasn’t exactly shy, but her lover’s bouts of insanity made her more careful and her larg…eh… fat body caused her to feel self-conscious. However, this time it was Cerithia, who was eager and, as soon asari got the hands on the programmer’s folds, shocked the quarian with her energy.

    Afterward, Zoma was lying on the bed, panting and covered in sweat. The mercenary had groped and tasted every inch of, swelled with the adipose, body. At that moment the programmer started to think that her figure wasn’t that bad.

    If she was being honest, by then, the quarian needed very little persuasion to gorge herself. She had never been fussy about eating and months of being stuffed to the absolute limit left her with quite the appetite. The programmer kept snacking with little to no input from her conscious mind and sometimes gorged herself into a food coma even without Cerithia around. Even nightly treks to the fridge were becoming more frequent.

    The mercenary was absolutely delighted that her love was embracing this gluttonous lifestyle. However, this brought a few, slight issues. Sometimes, the mercenary couldn’t gauge how much she could push down her lover’s gullet and Zoma could avoid ending as a balloon.

    But Cerithia had spent much of her life as a high-ranking operative in a vicious mercenary company, she quickly learned when the programmer was putting on the show. Besides, the quarian did that rarely, her newly gained greed demanded more and more food.

    Life went on. During all this time they kept gathering data on Eclipse, but for Zoma it was mostly filled with a stream of calories, constantly going down to her stomach, which were filling her, already large, body. She watched as her partner slowly but surely was regaining her former personality, save for the constant, if not so psychotic, insistence on fattening and spoiling the quarian. During all this time they kept gathering data on Eclipse.

    Unfortunately, all this new bulk wasn’t without consequences.

    This happened during one more than usually passionate lovemaking session.

    Last months changed Zoma, her already enlarged body had progressed outward. Round gut became a large, soft bag of fat that took a third of the quarian’s lap. It was still, mostly a single mass but had split into two pairs of love handles at the sides and the division into two folds progressed as the gluttonous organ grew. When the programmer was moving her arms, she felt a jiggle of growing bingowings, that didn’t as much hang as encased her forearms. Zoma’s face was appropriately affected, her checks now round and according to the mercenary “cute”. The only thing shrinking was the quarian’s neck, which was being absorbed by the swelling torso and adipose that was filling her face.

    The least affected was her breasts, which seemed to mostly ignore the onslaught of calories, grooving barely an inch total. Also, It was getting hard to distinguish the curve of her calves, then there were thighs, which were about as wide as her waist had used to, that needed to be split quite far apart to not be touching.

    Like when they needed to accommodate the head of the purple-skinned asari, who was busy bringing ecstasy to their obese owner. Just like the day the incident happened.

    Seemingly everything was more than fine. Cerithia was busy between her lover’s meaty legs, while her delighted victim was clutching bedsheets and moaning between gaps for air. The soft flesh was wobbling with fervor, the asari was in a feisty mood that day.

    Zoma already noticed that she was breathing harder than usual, but by now the quarian was used to all activities getting more and more tiring, so she ignored it. Besides the mercenary was outdoing herself that day.

    At first, moans were completely replaced by panting, soon after quarian’s breaths started to get quicker, more shallow.

    Then Zoma realized she was struggling to get a sufficient amount of oxygen to her lungs.

    The programmer started to panic. She wanted to shout, but her mouth was too preoccupied gasping for the precious air. So the quarian started to wriggle and squeeze her legs, that’s all she could do.

    Nowadays it took Zoma a fair bit of effort to move, not to mention the extra adipose restricted her range of movement. But at that moment, when her body struggled with little oxygen and orgasmic pleasure assaulting her, every limb felt like made from a molten lead and emerged in jelly.

    There was no chance of lifting her incredible bulk from the bed, even rolling from it.

    After few terrible seconds, the purple-skinned asari raised her head with a mixture of ecstasy and annoyance visible on it. But one look on her suffering lover and her state was enough for Cerithia to leapt with help.

    The mercenary cursed and moved next to her girlfriend, not caring for the remains of clothes dangling from her. With her considerable strength, further increased by adrenaline, she managed to get Zoma into a sitting position.

    The Eclipse defector shouted a few instructions and checked quarian’s status with omnitool, it was modified with much more advanced medicals features than normal. Cerithia hissed when she read the diagnosis.

    With speed worthy of an Olympic athlete, the asari ran into another room. She returned carrying a large medical case, towel, distilled water, and a small, medical can with oxygen.

    Meanwhile, Zoma tried to, with clear struggle, to follow her lover’s instructions and regain her breath.

    A plastic mask was pressed to her face and a wave of glorious, pure oxygen entered her lungs.

    After over a minute of such treatment, the programmer felt much better. She managed to raise her hand and took the can from the mercenary. With an affirmative nod and a weak smile from Zoma, the asari left her the device. Then Cerithia once again checked her omnitool and calmed down a bit, her lover’s state was stabilising.

    Once the danger passed, both laid on the bed, exhausted. The quarian was on the verge of falling asleep and her partner felt like she had just relived the most dangerous operation from her past. Despite this, the mercenary carefully, but adamantly led the programmer to the bathroom, gave her immunity boosters, and helped her lover clothe into her suit.

    During the entire procedure, Zoma was barely coherent and fallen into dreamless sleep immediately after.

    When she woke up, the quarian realized that she was alone. It was a bit odd given the hour, but she almost immediately focused on the various, still warm, dishes that were ling on trays next to bed. Another oddity was a note from Cerithia with a firm request to remain in her suit that day.

    That soured the programmer’s mood a bit, by then she was used to being free of the confines of her ever-modified suit. However she complied, her lover rarely told her to do something without reason.

    The rest of the day followed usually, writing new software and hacking into Eclipse databases while happily gorging. That day Zoma was limited to various pastes, but the mercenary had provided only the best and tastiest. Only a few times, the quarian paused and rubbed place, where her heart was buried under inches of soft blubber.

    Hours passed and Cerithia wasn’t returning. It was well past her usual return and the former pilgrim was worrying.

    Out of nowhere, she received a notice about decompression. Zoma checked it, in the garage space was her lover with several containers. They were clearly too big to bring inside without opening both sides of pressure doors.

    Well that explains why Ce wanted me in the suit, but what’s in those boxes?

    Doors opened and only with the faintest of greetings the mercenary began moving cargo.

    Now Zoma was really worried. Her love’s face was absent, eyes were gazing far away like she was in some trance. To be honest the asari did behave like hypnotized, mechanically moving boxes without a word.

    The quarian managed to get herself off her large chair and with effort waddle to the mercenary. When Cerithia didn’t respond to her call, the programmer tried to grab her. She succeeded the third time, the flabby arms weren’t used to movement outside typing.

    The asari stopped, but her gaze was elsewhere. At first, she wasn’t responding to Zoam’s inquires then started to answer monosyllabically, something about medical equipment, when prompted about the containers

    Then out of nowhere, the hardened mercenary started to shake and her face twisted, seemingly on the verge of crying.

    The programmer had never before seen her lover in such state, in some ways, it was more worrying than reverting into this cheerful-psychotic state from months before.

    With some gentle prompting and a bit of towing, or the quarian's attempts on it, Cerithia left the container and both sat on the bed.

    The purple face was twisting, only sheer will stopping tears, but few simple questions from the quarians opened the flood gates of the mercenary mouth.

    The incident from the day before affected the asari much more than Zoma. Cerithia was blaming herself for the lack of oversight, neglecting her girlfriend’s needs. This worry was borderline…no…it was hysterical and the quarian realized that: one - the only thing holding her lover together was her self-control, two –that wasn’t exactly normal.

    The next hour, the programmer spend reassuring the asari that everything was fine and she didn’t blame her.

    After the mercenary regained some of her composure, she informed the programmer that inside the containers were parts for the medical system. The best one Cerithia could buy and reliably operate. It would monitor Zoma’s health much better than some flimsy omnitool and if necessary provide limited medical attention as well as warn about potential dangers.

    The former pilgrim didn’t protest, save from saying that the Cerithia should consult it with her before buying. It was clear to Zoma that any complaints in this regard would fall on deaf ears. Besides, considering recent developments, it wasn’t exactly a bad purchase.

    The mercenary moved the containers inside and the quarian managed to convince her to go to sleep.

    The following weeks were hard for both of them. What little time Cerithia had between her position in Eclipse and her blackmail gathering activities, the mercenary spend installing the medical system. It was a complex beast, that clearly wasn’t intended for civilian installation. It barely left time to prepare meals for her lover.

    On the other side of the spectrum as the large quarian was still worrying as her asari seemed once again to fall into an obsessive state and was working herself to the bone. That and her access to food had been greatly reduced, both due to her personal’s chef’s lack of time and constant barrier caused by the suit, she had to keep on due to mess inside the house.

    The lack of sex also was a painful blow. The programmer didn’t know how she had managed to function before without it.

    All of this put a damper on Zoma’s growth despite that, as ashamed she was to admit, that there were a few instances when she used Cerithia’s slavish devotion to pamper her in order to make her stop working and prepare feasts.

    Still, after weeks of back-breaking labor, the system was set and the apartment decontaminated.

    What followed was the most ridiculous feeding session so far and night of ravishing intimacy during which the quarian’s role was limited to lying down, immobilized by her near-bursting gut.

    Strangely enough this time the programmer felt none of the tightens in the chest from last time.

    Life regained its previous rhythm, Zoma’s was once again swelling with astounding speed. Soon enough another consequence of a gluttonous lifestyle began apparent.

    The quarian’s had long since noticed that movement was getting harder and harder. While she was a little above average female quarian height, but not like almost freakishly tall Tali, her frame was being weighted down roughly by 500 pounds of pure adipose. That and Zoma was never an example of physical proneness, unlike her lover…I’m mean did you see her muscles…, and what little musculature she had, was falling to entropy due to her sedentary lifestyle.

    Those days it was getting next to impossible for her to alone move from her bed or chair. So the programmer had asked Cerithia to install a special set of railings to help her move. The mercenary agreed happily, but only so without this sickly cheerfulness. The muscular asari was improving.

    This was mostly similar to installing the medical systems but much simpler and stress-free. It should be also much faster, but this time the Eclipse defector wasn’t working to the physical limit. And of course, she needed to spend much more time cooking than the previous time. Zoma was a growing girl after all and her needs had increased since then.

    But the quarian realized that it was only a matter of time before she was completely reliant on outside assistance, even if her lover seemed completely ignorant to it. While she didn’t exactly know how Zoma was aware something had to be done.

    Fortunately, she was a lucky quarian. 😉

    It didn’t happen overnight, but Cerithia was back mostly to her old self. Then she started to question the state of things and become aware of her lapses in thought. It was nothing concrete at first, but that feeling of something being wrong keep increasing.

    One afternoon a breakthrough happened.

    Zoma was lying naked on the bed, her thick legs too wide to lay together and making a place for her gargantuan, split into two rolls, stomach. At this point, the quarian was almost as big as when Eristena and her people come to get her.

    Next to her was Cerithia, only in trousers and a sleeveless shirt with a bowl of half-molten ice cream on her knees and spoon in hand.

    Both were in great moods, but between spoonfuls of gooey goodness, Zoma asked one joking question.

    “One day you’ll have to tell me why you want me so big”

    And opened her mouth for another portion, but the spoon froze halfway. A confusion was visible on the mercenary face and then distress. She started mumbling asking herself question’s, the nonsensical, mad decision of actions that Cerithia had done during those last years seemed to suddenly rush to her. The asari started to panic freak out, nearly shouting.

    Fortunately, despite her extremely limited mobility, Zoma by then knew what worked on her lover, even in times of distress. She, admittedly with effort and after some time, managed to calm her asari down. Soon after, the shaking mercenary was lying on the bed, tightly clutching to the massive mass of fat that was her girlfriend. Both fell asleep soon after.

    In the following days, there were more similar occurrences, but Cerithia was getting a better handle on them and becoming moreover of her abnormal behavior. She didn’t know what to do, for the first time in centuries.

    But Zoma had an idea and finally, she convinced her lover to visit a doctor. It took a few days to find somebody appropriate.

    That visit provided some interesting information.

    The doctor chastised the mercenary for not coming sooner. Apparently, Cerithia condition had a particularly nasty form of transition into matron that didn’t fully finish, even at that time. The medic was surprised that the asari managed to even properly function at that time. For now, she received a prescription for medication and see another meeting. The Eclipse commander failed to mention her exact symptoms.

    The pills helped. After a week, Cerithia had better control of herself and was aware of what she had been doing, even if her memory was hazy at some points.

    The downside of this was that this knowledge nearly caused the mercenary to develop into full-blown depression, she was blaming herself.

    But Zoma didn’t, not really and successfully, if barely, convinced her lover of it and that she wanted to stay with her.

    Instead, the quarian presented a task. It was clear that they needed somebody to buy Eclipe’s secrets and provide them with protection. Both needed medical attention, Cerithia still wasn’t fully fine and the programmer needed assistance in everyday tasks.



    So the Eclipse defector started to look for an appropriate buyer.

    During that period few facts became apparent. The asari a few times offered to help Zoma with light exercises in order to start shedding weight. All of them were forced, though the mercenary hid it well.

    Pills or no pills, Cerithia still adored her girlfriend's enormous body, her gargantuan ass, bigger belly, and equally swelled limbs. She still loved feeding and pampering the programmer.

    The quarian long since learned to love overindulgence and her adipose provided unexpected if welcome possibilities in the bedroom. Besides, it was so soft and jiggly.

    Zoma happily kept eating more every day and allowed herself to be fed to the joy of both lovers.

    Then the news of Tali bossing the Red Spirit’s personnel with their boss blessing reached the duo.


     
    ***


     
    “And that’s about it doc” finished the gigantic quarian and with effort shifted on the bed.

    Doctor Penina still absorbed the incredible tale, trying to maintain a neutral expression. It sounded like the plot of some poor novel, but evidence…

    “Ahem… thank you, Miss. I’ll likely have some more questions later. For now, let’s focus on something else” said the psychiatrist.

    Per the contract you had signed we are to provide you necessary medical attention and safety. I know this must be hard, but perhaps you should consider filing a restraining order…”

    “No” interrupted the quarian, her voice, and eyes filed with a hardness that was completely different from her earlier stance. It didn’t fit this bubbly, perhaps even bit air-headed programmer.

    “I know what you are thinking, but I’m not abandoning Cy. Sure, what she did to me wasn’t exactly pleasant at first, but right now Cerithia needs me perhaps more than ever before. I know how this sounds, especially with this body of mine, but that's true. Besides, save this pampering obsession she didn’t do anything bad, and she could easily. I never was much of a fighter” explained Zoma firmly, somehow leaving no room for argument.

    Doctor Lini nodded, making mental note to investigate the matter and if necessary return to the topic.

    “I see. Then I’ll be going, if you need anything please ask. Also, I believe that dietician familiar with quarian physiology was already contacted so soon we’ll be able to help with your… figure” informed the shrink with a small smile and got up.

    “Nah, don’t bother. I don’t really want to lose it”

    That made Penina pause.

    “Excuse me?”

    “I told you doc. Cy may be sorry about what she did, but she still loves that sweet bod of mine. And it’s not like I want to stop stuffing my face before all of this I didn’t know eating could feel so good” replied the programmer, she put her hands on the mound of blubber that was her gut and set her entire body in motion.

    For some reason, the sight of this blob jiggling body made the doctor's throat dry.

    “So unless all those specialists from before say I need to, I don’t want to lose a pound. If you want to do something for me, doctor, could you get for me some real food and not nutrient paste. And tell Cy I want to see her when she has the time”

    The psychiatrist swallowed the saliva, the show still fresh in her mind. She hoped that her patient will need some direct help in the future, curious how all this flesh felt up close…

    “Very well, I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, Miss Naenn, try to get some rest. I believe that tomorrow will be demanding as well” said the doctor.

    Zoma groaned but nodded. At least Penina thought it was a nod, all this flesh was making it hard to tell. Soon after the doctor left.


     
    ***


     
    Tali was gaping at the screen, despite the fact it only once again only showed the muscular commando. Only her helmet hid from the asari that her mouth was open.

    “That’s the thick of it. Since then I have been getting loads of data, that Liara wants me to get familiar with for future operations. From what I managed to get from medical personnel, Naenn’s health is stable despite her weight. Your onboard medic, Mordin, can probably explain it better. He has been cooperating with our specialists and those data had been forwarded to him as well when you lifted data silence. Why exactly you had to employ it?” said Eristena.

    The quarian was still a bit dazed so it took her a few seconds to reply.

    “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I should tell. Liara’s going to be brief, so you should ask her. Sorry” replied the embarrassed engineer, but the commando didn’t seem fazed.

    “That’s fine. If I didn’t have a direct order from Miss T’Soni I wouldn’t have disclosed the previous informations either” informed Eristena plainly.

    “ahem… thanks. How Zoma’s now?” asked Tali.

    “I’m not quite up to date on this, but from I heard surprisingly good. We’re setting her a more comfortable environment, she’s getting regular visits from T'mivus. Your kinsman keeps refusing any suggestions about losing her weight, even surgically, but at the same time is already offering her services in the same fashion she did to Eclipse. Seeing as our techs are already praising her work, that may just happen” reported the commando and after a second added.

    “Would you like me to arrange me a video call?”

    “Mmmm… yes please, but’s that nothing urgent, I don’t want to trouble eighter of us. Last thing…How…how much Zoma weights?” Tali asked the question that had been on her mind since she had seen the obese quarian.

    “If I remember correctly around 600 pounds” replied the head commando.

    “On the unrelated note. It may interest you that our people assigned on Zhu Hope managed to mostly deal with colonist illness. What’s more, Shiala found a bondmate and is expecting” added Eristena with the smallest hint of a smile on the tired face.

    They exchanged pleasantries and the call disconnected.

    Tali remained silent, deep in thought. After such a draining mission, another bombshell had been dropped on her head. What’s more, it ha quite a lot of similarities to her own situation.

    The quarian was sitting there, trying to wrap her head around this all when something that was neither purr nor growl was heard behind her back.

    “600 pounds? That’s quite a number and that Zoma is much shorter than you, right?”

    How in the name of ancestors, somebody that tall is so quiet? thought Tali when a shiver ran through her body. She didn’t turn back, the engineer knew what was there.

    That pale, tall being with a smile that shouldn’t be humanly possible and red lines seemingly trying to burn through the skin.

    “Shepard, are you done with everything?... eeem… how long you were here?” asked the quarian suddenly very nervous.

    “Hmm… the boy is in medical, safe and our want-to-be Frankenstein secured. The moment he tries anything Grunt gets a new toy. I’m afraid we can’t do much more, we leave the rest to the Shadow Broker. And… well I was here long enough” answered the commander and placed her hands on Tali’s shoulders.

    The quarian felt the ling fingers even through the suit, suddenly aware how much they sunk into her flesh.

    “Ah…you sure they don’t need my…”

    “Stop”

    Shepard’s voice was seemingly sweet, pleasant, but for some reason left no room for argument.

    “I hate the fact that for those last days you were wasting away and was being so exploited. Now I heard that some Eclipse merc managed to get such delicious results. That’s why for the next several days I make sure you rest and eat properly. While that T'mivus seems sensible I HATE to be outdone”

    Tali swallowed. She was again trapped in the clutches of this human-shaped predator, her love.

    And she knew she was going to love it.



     
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