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Maple's Story Part 3
🕑 Added 2016-01-12 21:24:47 +0000 UTCWhen Maple stirred, shrugging off the warm, synthetic wool blanket, she groaned. Sleeping on the hard durasteel floor had done nothing for her back and the pain of cramped muscles only reaffirmed that she hadn’t dreamed up the events of the night before, the helpless gorging on anything within arm’s reach. The weight on her stomach reminded her that the consequences of a night’s binging would stretch into the following weeks, maybe even months of painful weight loss and exercise routines.
“Syn… I know you’re there…” She slurred groggily, the A.I had helpfully dimmed the lights in the galley as she slept.
“Yes, my little piglet?” The A.I’s voice echoed within her mind and Maple couldn’t help but get the feeling that the usually calm voice had carried an unexpectedly delighted tone. Personal A.I were known to grow and develop along with their host so Maple wasn’t entirely surprised by the recent display artificial emotion, but regardless of whether the friendly nickname had been given to her by a friend or a block of evolving programming it still brought a blush to her now conspicuously chubby cheeks.
“F-first off,” Maple stuttered as she managed to look down at herself for the first time since she’d woken up. Lying on her back her view was dominated by her breasts, typically small and pert, they’d become tiny little mountains, each the size of grapefruit. Beyond them her stomach rose like a small hill, making it a few inches past the highest point of her boobs. She groaned, her second chin bunching against the first as she looked to her sides to see the fat of her tummy spilling across into big love handles that would make it clear beyond a doubt that bulge of her gut wasn’t a pregnant one. She felt as though she’d stuffed a pillow with thick cream and jello before slipping it down her flightsuit. It was as embarrassing as it was uncomfortable. “Don’t call me that.” She gulped, the words had gotten caught in her throat but no more as she pushed herself up from the metal floor, stretching the aches from her back and trying to ignore the way her whole body seemed to jiggle as she did. “Warm up the VR suite, I’m going to need to do a few laps this morning…”
“Of course,” Syn replied, her usual subservient tone returning. For a moment. “But before you begin, wouldn’t you like to have breakfast? It is the most important meal of the day after all.”
Before Maple could respond she heard the rumbling of the fab unit and the smell of freshly cooked pancakes doused in maple syrup hit her nose. At first she thought she wanted to vomit, as though her stomach highly protested any further intrusions to its privacy but then the vixen realised that the retching pain in her gut wasn’t nausea at all, it was hunger. Burning inside her, albeit without the intensity it had the night before. “N-no!” She mumbled, now wobbling unsteadily on her feet, adjusting to her new weight and trying to build the willpower to stumble away from the meal. She couldn’t move her feet though. Her mind was a jumbled haze of, ‘just one couldn’t hurt, could it?’ And she was so, so hungry. She saw her hand rising towards the platter of pancakes as it jutted out of the fab unit, steam rising up into the air. Her mouth was filling with saliva, she was already practically drooling by the time she’d stumbled to the dish. Maple didn’t bother with a knife and fork, she didn’t care about the sticky, delicious syrup. She grabbed the biggest pancake and rolled it up into a delicious, steamy tube before munching down on it, syrup splattering across her chins and dripping from the end of the tube onto her stomach with wet, loud SPLOTs.
The treat disappeared in a matter of moments, Maple squeaked as she realised she was sucking the syrup off the fingers of one hand whilst the other had already grabbed the next pancake. “No!” She yelped, the pancake dropping to the floor as she backed away from it like it was a snake. “What are you doing Syn?!”
The A.I’s response was instant, “I simply fabricated you some breakfast. It is an important meal. If you did not wish to eat it you could have walked away.” Maple bit down a snarled response before Syn continued: “I’m warming up the p-emitters in the VR suite now.”
Was that it? Maple tried not to look at the fallen pancake, clutching her stomach with syrup soaked hands and cringing at the way it squished into her paws. She was sure Syn was playing on her moment of weakness, the hunger she felt but why? What did the A.I have to gain from seeing her humiliated so? Personal A.I were bound by very strict rules only ever to help their hosts, where was it written that turning them into hippos was helpful?! The vixen shook her head, asking Syn would almost certainly yield no results, Maple had never understood what made the A.I tick and with a head clouded in hunger she didn’t think she would any time soon.
She bit her lip and stumbled away, trying to ignore the way her body swayed and wobbled so much more with every step. The VR suite was down the corridor. It was a short walk by any means but it felt longer than ever to Maple as she licked the syrup clean from her paws and dusted the rest onto her flightsuit.
Her flightsuit. It was perhaps one of the best and most expensive pieces of technology on the ship. A full body suit with retractable sleeves, legs and hood it regulated her body temperature, monitored her vital signs, removed and recycled dead skin tissue, shed fur, and sweat. Technically whilst wearing it she didn’t even have to wash, but after more than a few days in the suit she started to feel grimy in ways only a shower or a long bath could fix. The flightsuit would give her a few minutes in the vacuum of space (although she hoped she would never have to test that particular feature) and thoroughly integrated with her own body’s cybernetic systems, giving her A.I an in depth feel for what its host was feeling at any one time.
The flightsuit had already cleaned itself of what was left of the syrup by the time she reached the doors to the VR suite. Ordinarily Maple wouldn't have bothered to make her way to the suite, content to use Virtual Reality Dreams that run within the hardware in her brain, saving her the effort of expending energy. But considering the heft around her torso exercise was the only thing that would stop her from blowing up like a balloon and the VR suite was the only place on the ship that could transform a room the size of a cupboard into a stadium.
- - -
As her selected program came online, a gorgeous seascape unfolded before Maple in block-like chunks at a time. She stood on the beach, her fuzzy toes slipping into the sand, nose basking in the scent of the ocean.
VR sure is a hell of a thing. The way the sunlight bounced off the waves, glittering like the jewels as they crashed against the sandy beach. She could stand there forever, just taking in the view. But… it wouldn't help her figure. With a little huff, the girl started off her jog at a slow pace.
- - -
It felt like she'd been running for an eternity, her pawprints stretching out behind her into the horizon as she jogged across the beach. Panting, wheezing and thankful that her suit was soaking up the copious amount that she was sweating, Maple checked her internal chronometer and groaned. She'd been going at it barely five minutes and already she was exhausted. Could anyone blame her? She felt like she was carrying around another fifty pounds more than she was used to and heaven knows she wasn't going to look down to check. Every sight of her wobbling, jiggling stomach made her feel ill, the emotion mixing poorly with the growing hunger that had been gnawing at her since she awoke.
Overheated and out of breath, Maple allowed herself to fall back onto her newly padded bum in the sand. A breather at the very least couldn't hurt. She didn't mind the way the sand clung to her suit and stuck in her fur, it would dissipate into the nothingness that it was the moment the program shut off. For now she would simply sit and enjoy the scenery, listen to the waves lapping gently against the shore. Feel the cool ocean breeze through her hair. It felt like it was morning some time, the sun wasn't too high in the sky and the winds had just enough chill to wake her up. She sat there for some time, long after she stopped panting and sweating.
"Enjoying your morning jog?" Syn asked, the A.I both everywhere and nowhere. Maple's cheeks flushed, she knew deep down that Syn had been watching her. She's the A.I's host after all and as much as the A.I was a core part of her daily life she was still in some way an outside presence. Maple couldn't help but feel as though she were being judged for her laziness, her gluttony.
"What do you think?" The vixen bit back, she knew she shouldn't be petulant towards her A.I but honestly? Syn should understand what Maple was going through. Her heart rate, her stress and temperature. The A.I was designed to be able to read Maple's every need, it should be able to feel the pain in her joints and the hunger burning in her stomach, is it too much to ask for a little empathy?
"I think you could do with a break. My nav markers need looking over, perhaps over brunch?" The idea of going for another meal stirred equal parts nausea and lust in Maple. She didn't exactly need to be eating more, but there was no harm in taking a break, taking things slow.
The vixen nodded. "Alright, cut the sim, I'm coming out."
Like someone had flipped the light switch on the sun, the simulated world dimed and fizzled out to be replaced by the cool, crisp edges of the VR suite. Smaller than the size of a bathroom, the suite was filled with more equipment than Maple cared to think about. She carefully backed her widened posterior out lest she somehow bump one of the delicate instruments. Syn would never let her forget it if the A.I had to recalibrate the room.
“Good. I’ll have the scuttlers bring your brunch to the cockpit,” Maple opened her mouth to protest the idea of more food but the A.I cut her off, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, but it’ll be there for as you check over the nav markers. We’re flying pretty cold out here with the route you selected, these markers have a higher risk percentage than I’m comfortable with.”
Maple simply grumbled and nodded. It wasn’t Syn’s fault, she was doing everything an A.I should be doing. The vixen had told it to plot a quick route to their destination, a dinky little research outpost orbiting some dead moon on the rim. Problem was the nearest form of police protection was weeks away out there, if pirates wanted to score some quick cash they could do worse than poaching traders supplying a research outpost. With The Kit as fast and small as she is Maple didn’t really think a pirate would risk the bounty - a ship like hers couldn't carry more than a few tons of cargo at a time. Like a good A.I Syn was getting her to go over the markers, make sure the risk of flying through each system was within acceptable margins. Whilst she'd have liked to play things safer, a hand on her wobbling, jiggling basketball sized belly reminded her that she was racing against the clock.
- - -
