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Miranda’s Worst Mission (Mass Effect) In her nearly twenty year career as a Cerberus agent, Miranda Lawson had done and seen a lot of things. Some of them she was proud of, like preventing a couple wars or helping Commander Shepard save the galaxy. Others had been dirtier but no less necessary. However, there was only one mission that she completely, utterly refused to talk about. It had started rather innocently enough about two years before the first death of Commander Shepard on the colony world of Breacher’s Hope, one of the most gorgeous garden planets in the System’s Alliance. A serene, tropical jewel, it was known for its stunning beaches, calm seas, temperate jungles and an extremely large orbital shipyard that kept most of the planet employed. However, all was not well in the seeming paradise. A newcomer Tycoon named Hensen Bados had recently appeared on the scene with seemingly no back ground and gobs of cash. He bought up resorts, casinos beaches and random tracks of wilderness. Most of this would have been humdrum if Cerberus hadn’t detected that Bados had had an archeological dig on one of the properties, something that had uncovered a cache of prothean artifacts. At this point, the clandestine organization would usually buy out the artifacts or simply steal them outright through either guile or force. However, Bados’ security was impenetrable and he employed a small army of highly trained mercs. Thus, the Illusive Man sent in his best agent. Miranda Lawson: cold, ruthless, brilliant, gorgeous. Product of illegal genetic engineering, she could crush a tank with biotic power, run a research institution or make back to back covers on Galaxy Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit edition. Tall and athletic, Miranda was both droolingly curvy and impossibly lithe, a provision of her engineered metabolism. Bouncy D-cup breasts and a tight, perky badonkadonk went along pleasingly with six pack abs, endless legs and the face of an angel, even though the soul behind its pretty blue eyes might have been accused of coming from somewhere else. All of this came in extra handy, as Bados was known as a womanizer. Miranda found no shortage of him having short lived affairs with movie starlets, swimsuit models and local ass he found on the beach. Lawson’s plan was simple: using her statuesque body she easily got hired by one of the model agencies based on Breacher’s Hope, one owned by Bados himself. She had had a slight, easily reversible facial alteration before hand, enough to throw off any Alliance security personnel who might see the center fold she quickly wound up in. It was less than a month, and only after a few photoshoots, that the newly single Bados’ assistant came calling. ‘Of course I’d love to have dinner with Mr. Bados,’ said Miranda to the red headed girl who came down to the beach photoshoot where Miranda was wearing a tiny blue two piece, ‘and anything else he requires,’ she added with a naughty grin. The secretary was surprisingly plump for the personal assistant of someone like Mr. Bados. Her green body suit was extremely snug in the thighs and stomach, so tight that a line of doughy flesh muffin topped over her waist band. Miranda was actually a little surprised, nanites and low fat food making fat girls a rare sight, but feeling a little vain she stretched a little more, somehow showing off even more of her own flawless stomach. ‘Oh yes,’ the secretary said, placing a plump hand on her own stomach, ‘I’m sure he’s going to put a lot on you.’ It wasn’t until later that Miranda caught the ‘put’ in the sentence. The date happened to be at the planet’s most expensive and best rated restaurant. A hover-limo fetched Miranda there and she leaned back in its roomy interior, surprised at the amount of snacks and candies on display. The leggy Cerberus agent actually had quite an appetite due to her biotic powers and due to her genetics actually had it easy when it came to keeping off weight. Reasoning that it was a one time deal, she idly popped a chocolate into her mouth. ‘Mmmmm,’ she moaned, surprised by the buttery richness of the chocolate and the sweet tartness of the cherry filling. It had been a while since anything had tasted so good. She helped herself to a few more, uncaring that she was on her way to dinner and the cleavage baring, backless, incredibly short dress she was wearing was already skin tight. Soon the Cerberus spy was whisked to the restaurant, easily stepping out of the limo and showing off an immense length of firm leg to anyone who might be watching. An Asari waitress wearing almost as little as Miranda led the ‘model’ to her seat, the table already occupied by her date. ‘A little tight for this place, don’t you think?’ the blue alien asked Miranda. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’ ‘I’m not going to eat here,’ the asari said mysteriously before leaving. Mr. Bados proved to be a huge, incredibly good looking man. There were muscles on his muscles and his rugged face and crewcut seemed more at home on a marine than a land tycoon. Gentlemanly like he pulled back Miranda’s chair for her and gently pushed it forwards until her flat belly was near the table. A steaming basket of buttery bread sticks was already there, next to dipping cups of melted butter and rich oil. ‘So you’re this up and comer looking for rookie of the year my assistant tells me about?’ the tycoon asked, his eyes already looking Miranda’s curvy figure up and down. She caught him staring at her breasts and gave him her best airheaded bimbo smile, inhaling to push her plump breasts out even more. ‘Of course, I just love prancing around in negligee,’ Miranda said rather untruthfully, ‘I tried college for a year, but all the studying was just so boring.’ ‘Yes, your dossier said you had just finished your freshman year,’ Bados told her, also informing her that her cover was still good. Miranda might have been able to pass for a particularly clear skinned and busty high school senior, but she was over thirty. Very slow aging was another one of her many genetic benefits. ‘I’m surprised really,’ the tycoon said, ‘you don’t look like most girls who just finished freshman year.’ ‘Oh, really?’ said Miranda, inwardly tensing incase she had been made, ‘why is that?’ ‘Why, you’re so fit,’ Bados told her, ‘most girls come out of college carrying more than a few extra pounds. While you’re flat as a board, in your stomach at least.’ ‘Well, thank God for a good metabolism and a healthy diet,’ Miranda said, glad that had passed by. ‘As a reward, why don’t I treat you?’ Bados said pushing over the bread, ‘I’ve already got your order put in. The Chef works for me and knows my…ah preferences for my dates.’ The bread did smell heavenly, but Miranda also remembered she had eaten a quarter pound of chocolate on the ride over, ‘I’d love to but I do have to watch my figure if I want to get that cover…’ ‘Oh don’t worry about the cover,’ Bados said, ‘I’m offering you a much better deal than just being a model.’ ‘Really,’ Miranda asked, ‘what’s that?’ ‘You could say I’m in the market for a new companion. I just recently had a break up and am looking for someone to stay around the house, keep me company. It might not be as glamorous as modeling, but the pay is much, much better and there are much… looser restrictions.’ Inwardly Miranda was dancing for joy, thinking, ‘this mission will be easier than I thought.’ ‘Well, once I look at the contract and talk to my agent…’ ‘He’s already been informed,’ the tycoon said, ‘now why don’t we toast to the start of a beautiful relationship?’ Miranda joined him in holding the glass in the air and drank it in one gulp. Her nanite enhanced blood would keep her from getting drunk, but she had to at least pretend to get tipsy. Taking her que from many of the other tipsy women who were obviously here on dates, she dug into the bread sticks with gusto, pretending that her aversion to fatty food had been overcome by alcohol. They were incredibly good, already dripping with butter she dunked them further into ranch and blue cheese, biting and tearing at the gooey bread as if she was starving. Strangely enough she did feel incredibly hungry, almost as if the food was enticing her. She barely noticed when she spilled a fat dollop of ranch on her breasts and didn’t even think of decency when she touched it with her finger and licked it off. An appetizer plate of fried food came and quickly went as the insatiable spy demolished it, ignorant of the ring of grease and sauce around her mouth. Her dress was feeling impossibly tight, so she began fiddling with its small belt. Her greasy fingers made a mess of the job and she soon stained her expensive dress before finally undoing the clasp. Miranda’s belly, which had been flowing around the belt, now surged outwards with ease. The rest of the night was a blur. Lobster bisque soup and no salad course vanished before her eyes and she could have sworn she saw the Asari waitress eye her stuffed belly mockingly. A thick plate of fried potatoes and steak tips swimming in cheese disappeared as her stomach started aching and then finally, Miranda was back in the limosine with Bados, this time gorging herself on a massive bowl of ice cream drowning in hot fudge, sprinkles and whipped cream. With a sigh, the spy finished it and idly started sucking on the spoon. At some point her fake drunkenness had turned into real drunkenness, but from the fatty, chemically altered food instead of the beer. If she could have seen her self she would have been shocked, for her face was covered in layers of grease, chocolate, sauce and melting ice cream. Her dress was utterly ruined, dozens of splotches from her careless gorging covering its front, which was badly stretched by her stuffed belly. Not really thinking she leaned against Bados who put his strong hand on her swollen stomach. ‘So Miss Miranda, how do you like the way I treat my girlfriends?’ ‘You must spend a lot of money on first dates, if that’s how they all are,’ Miranda said, slowly realizing how much she had eaten. Her stomach hurt, but she calmed herself thinking that she could soon burn it off through exercise and even if she didn’t her supercharged metabolism could handle one heavy meal. ‘Oh, didn’t you realize, that’s how my girlfriends eat every night,’ said Mr. Bados, ‘a woman who appreciates her food is far more appreciative of the one who pays for it, I find. And Miss Miranda, I have to say you must appreciate food more than any girl I’ve ever seen. You have, I should say, extreme potential.’ Miranda was becoming increasingly uneasy at all of this. The man was practically calling her fat, yet treating it as a complement. She thought to say something, but a massive gurgle from her usually flat stomach stopped her. ‘Oh, is your tummy unhappy? Don’t worry you’ll get used to it.’ ‘Get used…what do you mean?’ ‘Oh I may own half the modeling companies in the system, but I do like my women with a little meat on their bones,’ said Bados. ‘…meat?’ ‘Fat to be more precise, the fatter the better. But only if they start out thin, fit and with an angelic face. There’s no use taking on a fat girl who doesn’t know how to take care of herself. Bringing in a model and making her fat, now there’s the way to get a perfect woman.’ Miranda’s heart felt like it was going to explode, and not just from the unaccustomed grease. ‘So you’re saying… you want me to gain weight?’ ‘Oh no, not at all,’ said Bados to Miranda’s relief. ‘I want you to gain a lot of weight.’