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Maple's Story Part 5
🕑 Added 2016-01-20 03:10:55 +0000 UTCPing. Ping.
Maple looked up from the long feast laid out before her. The smell of it alone was driving her crazy, but not as crazy as the feeling of weight that hung from her middle. She almost purred as she rubbed the massive lump of her gut, so big that were she even able to stand she was sure that it would drag along the ground in front of her.
Ping. Ping.
“Maple?! Is that you? Did you bring your father’s meds?” Her mother’s voice called from upstairs and the vixen shrunk ever so slightly into her flab. Had she spent all her money on food? Dad wasn’t going to die or anything if he didn’t get his meds, but him and mom would sure be upset.
Ping. Ping.
“Maple, Miss Alma Anzar is requesting a secure broadcast line. I’ve opened a two-way video.”
Syn’s voice woke the vixen up with a gentle jolt, the girl choking briefly on her own drool as she blinks away her sleep.
“Maple? Is that you? Hah, you look like you swallowed a horse!” Came the familiar voice of Maple’s contact in the world of bounties, piracy and smuggling, Alma. As the blurriness faded from her vision the vixen could see Alma’s face outlined on a large holographic projection in front of her, from the looks of things Alma could probably see Maple just as well. She felt her cheeks blushing red. Apparently without a satisfactory reply, the brown haired gator girl continued, “You were thin as a broom last I saw you - hey I know they like to talk about the spacer 200 but don’t you think you went a bit past that?”
The vixen blushed again, feeling her paws sinking into her stomach as she tried to hide it behind her arms, tough luck with that. What had been enough food to inflate her stomach to the size of an exercise ball had digested into enough fat that her stomach had barely deflated at all, instead forming two massive rolls. One rested heavily upon her legs, swallowing them down to her thighs and the other provided a shelf for her breasts. Maple’s cheeks burned, every bulge, every roll was more than visible thanks to the skin tight duratex suit she was wearing, what had once been a way of showing off her fashionably thin and agile body was now putting her morbidly obese gut on full display.
“I uh...” Maple started, her groggy mind racing to come up with a plausible excuse for being so big. Certainly she didn’t want to admit to the pirate that she’d been tricked by some egghead on a rim station and was being coerced into delivering a batch of chems at break-neck speed. She might not say it out loud but she had too much respect, even admiration for the adventurous croc.
“First place at an eating contest?” Alma supplied with a smirk, her eyes going across the massive vixen’s stomach. It pushed against the consoles in The Kit’s now almost cramped cockpit. “I should hope you won first place with a stomach like that!”
“N-not exactly!” Maple replied, sitting up in her chair so that her chins didn’t bunch into rolls. Every little bit helped at this point. “C-caught a local bug, actually!”
Stammering, she managed to form the idea and grab onto it, the story becoming more solid in her mind. “Yeah I was spending some time at Leah’s Point and you know those backwater stations, barely any quarantine laws. They say I’ll be back to normal in no time though, just uh, few pounds in water weight or... something.”
The gator girl looked sceptical but after a moment of thought shrugged. “Whatever you say Maple and hey, there’s no shame in having to see a doc to get some of that weight removed.” She added with a slightly larger smile.
“Or perhaps just lay off the pies, Maple?” Her A.I added, causing the vixen to scowl a little. What was this, pick on Maple day?
“Anyway,” Alma leaned back in her chair causing it to give a little groan of its own. It was no secret that the gator was heavy, heavier still than Maple was but most of that seemed like armour, muscle and the build of her species. Her small pot belly was nothing compared to the beanbag that Maple was trying to suck in. “I’ve got a job for you if you’re interested.”
“I-I can’t...” Maple murmured quickly, trying to cut the gator off. “In the middle of one already.”
“Can’t put it down?” The pirate asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Not this one.” If only she knew... every hour, every minute of this job was hell. And what would happen to her afterwards? Would she spend every credit she had just to get back to normal?
“No prob, hey before I go though, what’s with the collar?”
Maple’s cheeks darkened to a deep red before she could stop them, before she could think of a suitable response. She squeaked and killed the call, sitting there looking out into the dark of space and listening to her heart beat rapidly. She knew she shouldn’t, but she cared too much about what Alma thought, it was killing her already just to turn down a job, she didn’t have it in her to lie about the collar.
“Syn, dim the lights and set us to ghost. I don’t want to be disturbed. I’m going to my room.”
“Yes, Maple.”
Trying not to pant, Maple pried herself out of her wheezing pilot’s chair, holding her gut up with both arms so as not to knock anything over with it. The lights of the cockpit and the rest of the ship dimmed and the steady thumping of her engines slowed down to a barely perceptible whine. At this point in the flight, she didn’t lose any time with the ship ghosting and it lessened the odds of her being followed. But most importantly it rendered her unable to be contacted by the rest of the universe. For a while, it would be just her and Syn.
- - -
Maple slumped on her bed, Syn had helpfully arranged some pillows towards the back of the bunk and the vixen was grateful for the support. She cringed as her stomach pushed her legs apart and rested heavily on the mattress between them. The vid-call had been harrowing enough without having to face the prospect that at this rate her stomach would soon be so large that it would rest over even her knees. Would it get any bigger before The Kit made it to her destination? She shuddered, her chubby fingers gently caressing its massive bulk, squeaking along the edges of her duratex suit.
“Are you tired already?” Syn asked, concern touching her voice.
The vixen groaned softly, “Hungry, more like. Are we sure there’s no way I can get this collar off? I’ll be a blimp before we reach the station if this keeps up.”
“Not if you don’t want to risk its needles jabbing you with who knows what. Considering what has already been done, if you’re concerned for your waistline I suggest you keep the collar on and exercise a little more self control.” Came Syn’s reply, cool and without sympathy. Maple groaned again to hear it.
“But it’s haaaaard! To be so hungry all the time...” She hefted the mass of her gut, pulling it up against her breasts and watching the way it deformed before letting it land once more on her thighs with a loud slap. Her latest bout of self-pity was interrupted when the door to her cabin slid open and some more of Syn’s scuttlers rolled in, each bearing a tray large enough to feed a family piled with recently synth’d roasted meats, gravy, piles of mashed potato and sweet rolls. The scent started Maple drooling long, silky threads of saliva onto her expensive suit, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself at the trays of food and eat until there was nothing left but one part of her mind was still able to advise caution, restraint.
“S-syn... what are you doing? W-why so much?” She asked as she leaned forward and grabbed the nearest tray, resting it on her spaciously large stomach.
“My sensors inform me that you now weigh over 400lb, Maple. Since I was not programmed to serve the morbidly obese I am unaware of your new dietary requirements. I suggest that you eat only what you have to and leave the rest.” The A.I replied casually, another three trays of food being wheeled in by the little robots
.
Maple gulped. Of course, that was the answer, she could just eat what she wanted and leave the rest, right? On the tray before her a veritable mountain of butter laced, gravy soaked mashed potato balanced precariously, easily large enough to be a three course meal in its own right. Some rolls were steaming to the side of it, all buttered up and ready to be eaten. She’d just eat a little and then put the tray down before getting something more healthy. The vixen dragged a finger across the top of the little hill of mashed potato, collecting a decent chunk of it before plopping it in her mouth and sucking. Maple groaned. If she didn’t know this was synth’d food she’d have guessed it was all organic, expertly cooked, real potato! Thoughts of knives and forks vanished at that first taste and without hesitation or a hint of embarrassment, Maple shoved her face completely into the pile of mashed potato, gorging like a pig from a trough. Every mouthful was heaven, every second a race to get more and more of the delicious stuff down her throat. In great, heavy, creamy mouthfuls the potato and gravy collected in her stomach like wet cement, first filling the tortured and stretched organ and then expanding it. The nano’s raced to keep up with her ravenous eating, the tiny little machines repairing stretched tissue, reinforcing and redesigning her belly’s elasticity as it grew larger and larger. She bloated up and her stomach rose as she devoured more of the potato and gravy. Uncaring for the mess that mattered her hair and splattered across her fine suit before dribbling down onto her sheets, by the time the vixen was done with just that tray alone her gut had swollen a whole foot upwards and outwards, the now barren platter sliding from her grease stained stomach to clatter onto the floor.
She heaved and panted but even this did not wake Maple from her hunger. Even with her back propped up against the pillows her stomach now all but dominated her vision, the duratex suit slick with grease and gravy shone in the dull lights of the cabin. It squeaked and sloshed as she leaned over to one side to grab the next tray, grunting like a pig as she pulled up what appeared to be a very large, whole turkey, and rested it on her gut. Of course everything was synth’d, she knew that deep down but as she pulled the tender meat from its bones nothing seemed more real just then. She grabbed great handfuls, stripped meat from legs and wings, gorged on deliciously thick breadcrumb stuffing. With the platter sitting atop her stomach her face was so close to everything, every scent and flavour enough to fill her mind so that she could think of nothing else. With a wall rattling belch she pushed the now empty tray away, scuttlers scrambling to pick up bones and crumbs as they splattered on the floor, another tray taking its place in moments. This one was piled higher still with sweet cakes, donuts, pastries stuffed with so much cream they looked as though they would burst with the slightest touch and although Maple had intended to rest the overburdened platter on her gut it was now both too high and too round, the tray tilted towards her until the stack of treats rained down onto her breasts, chins and face. This only made it easier, saliva flying as she snapped up every pastry she could, pushing huge stacks of them towards her mouth with her chubby hands. Eclairs wobbling like waterballoons were swallowed whole, only to burst inside her stomach and release their pressurised, creamy goop, causing her swollen gut to lurch even more upwards.
If she had a care for more than satisfying this burning need to be filled Maple would have seen her gut rising like a small, latex covered boulder behind her gravy soaked breasts. Her duratex suit groans and creaks, clinging to every roll of fat, every curve on her massive body, squeaking when her grease damp fingers slide across its surface to ease the rumbling pain of her bloating tummy. With the flavour of the thick, cream laden pastries exploding in her mouth, Maple didn’t care to see the rising mound of her stomach, feel the weight of her body as she sunk into the mattress of her bed. She could feel the delightful pleasure of her gut stretching, the pressure and warmth of a need sated at last and it was all she could do to keep this feeling going. One paw pushed pastry after pastry towards her waiting mouth whilst the other roamed across the vast expanse of her stomach, too big by far to ever reach around, she moaned with almost orgasmic delight as her fingers played upon its surface, sparking such delightful sensations as it bloated against her.
Finally the tray was over, Maple was panting like she’d run a marathon, she felt like she had. The crushing weight of everything she’d just eaten weighed her down as cooing she ran her grease and crumb covered hands across the expanse of her stomach. What had she done to herself? Could she ever possibly hope to walk all this off in the VR suite? Could she even fit through it’s door? These thoughts were pushed slowly from her mind by the encroaching bliss of the coming food coma. She smiled softly as the scutlers started to clean up the trays and mess that she’d made, her lids feeling heavy until finally she was whisked away into a dreamless sleep.
- - -
