Filling Out the Frontline Chapter 8: Rest and Renovations (Patreon)

“Come on!” Grizzly clapped A4 on the back. “Is that all you’ve got?!”

“Mpgmh mpghmhmga ma!” the brunette tried to force words through a mouthful of jelly doughnut.

“Even a little skinny bird like you can stomach another two!”

A4 shoved both of her hands to her face, pushing the remaining fried dough past her lips. Her throat swelled as the pastry was forced down to rest on the pile that was forming inside of her belly. She was panting, a trickle of sweat dribbled down to her chin. “Is this some kind of… of hazing, thing?”

Grizzly jeered, tearing into her own doughnut like a wild beast. It was like watching a hail of gunfire tearing apart a practice board, and twice as messy. The woman’s swollen chest pulled her tight white shirt up and up, revealing the smooth fat of her tummy. She wore all the crumbs and mess like badges of pride. 

“You’re such a showoff…” RFB grunted, sitting back in her seat on the other side of the newest recruit. She’d already vanished her doughnuts, all ten for the box, from the face of the Earth like a diabetic magician. She reached into A4’s box and secured a pastry, holding it up. “Would you like one, Commander?”

Grizzly looked up towards Commander Winters, seeing him adjusting their sectional. She was not prepared for a calm and reserved voice to whisper from behind, “No, but thank you, RFB.”

The boob-heavy bear nearly cracked her wide seat from how high she leapt. When she twisted, she heard the familiar sound of popping seams along the sides of her denim shorts. She wasn’t the only one, as A4 had turned as pale as her skeletal ribs, staring at the person who loomed directly over her.

A man with medium-length dirty blonde hair and snow-white skin peered down at her from behind a reflective pair of aviator glasses. In the mirrors, Grizzly could see the bright scarlet shine of A4’s wide eyes. He looked away from her, addressing the large table. “Good morning, girls.”

“Good morning, Commander Miller,” RFB and Mosin both chimed.

Spas luckily had a mouth filled with dough, and so only looked moderately ridiculous as she bent into Mosin and whispered, “Who?”

Grizzly pushed out from her chair. She hopped up, ruining her pants even further as her calorie-filled thighs pushed out the seams. “You ass! You scared the shit out of me!”

A4 coughed. “G-Grizz… Umm, Miss Grizzly, you shouldn’t speak to a Griffin Com-”

“Sorry, Grizz,” Miller smiled from behind his sunglasses. He spoke with a light accent, a remnant from his foreign homeland. “Didn’t intend. I just came through.”

Grizzly returned a sharp grin and thumped him on the shoulder with a hammy fist. “You walk too soft, Master Miller!”

She could feel the disapproving look from behind those damn glasses, but they hid his eyes and his reaction. All he returned was a simple, “Sorry.”

The woman squinted, getting close enough that her chest nearly bumped against his wiry frame. “Are those bags under your eyes?” she asked. “What did I tell you about staying up late! It’s not healthy for you!”

Mosin cleared her throat, summoning their attention. “Grizzly, would you please make the Commander of Office 512,” she paused, looking at Spas to ensure sure she understood before going on, “a cup of tea?” Then she addressed him specifically. “We’ve brought up some supplies already,” she gestured to their second breakfast and the cups of milk on the table, “but the oven has yet to be installed, as has the fridge.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Miller nodded appreciatively. “If you can’t boil water, I’ll wait on the tea. Microwaved…” he shook his head. 

Winters came over, stretching out his back, “Ahh, morning Ed. You want to get working on that first then?”

“John,” Miller nodded. “If that’s what you’d like.”

“Sure. The order doesn’t matter much to me. We’ve got it tucked to the wall, but hooking it up,” Winters laughed. “You might as well ask me to be doing a doll maintenance check. I move the heavy stuff, leave it to you techs to know which way the wrench turns. You’ve got your tools?”

Miller lifted a box that hung by his waist. Grizzly hadn’t even noticed it, and knowing that it was filled with tools that somehow made zero sound when he shook it bothered her infinitely more.

“Alright, let’s get her going.”

Commander Miller placed his tools on the bar, along with his Griffin beret and his long dress jacket. Grizzly couldn’t help but look at the fit of his dress shirt, or at the sleekness of his tie as he folded the jacket over a chair and went to join Commander Winters behind the service table.

He wore nearly the exact same thing as Winters did, and yet… somehow, he looked infinitely better. While Winters looked like he was about to rip the sleeves on his white shirt with thick arms and strong shoulders, Miller wore his suit much more cleanly and crisp. The shirt was relaxed, the black pants were slimming, even his jacket looked appealingly long when he wore it. The loose clothing only made Grizzly’s imagination work that much harder, picturing what might be beneath.

Maybe it was those glasses, those damn stupid horrible amazing looking glasses that made Grizzly feel like she just needed to get up in his face and… and…

RFB poked Grizzly’s exposed tum. “You’re thinking again,” she sang before dipping to a whisper. “Doesn’t he have such a nice ass?”

“Ahhhh, shut up!” Grizzly whined, tapping RFB on her little brown buns. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

Both Spas and A4 blinked at the others with ignorant eyes, though Spas was much quicker to decide that the silence was best filled by another doughnut, and so stole one from A4’s pile before the newbie could see her do it.

“Umm, Miss Grizzly. Who is in Office 512?” A4 asked.

Grizzly turned to her, tilting her head curiously before realizing. “Oh, you me-”

Mosin coughed loudly. “Teaching,” she prompted.

“Oh!” the bear’s belly hopped. “Oh, right! Well, rookie, who do you think is in Office 707?”

“Ehhh?” A4 blinked several times, hands resting on her middle. “Um… Well, it’s you, Miss Mosin, Miss Spas, Miss RFB, and Miss… umm, me.”

Grizzly shook her head. “You indoctrinates never get it at first.” She leaned down to A4’s side, taking a knee. She began picking through her doughnuts and arranging them into piles. “The Offices are kind of like this, see?” she pointed at the piles.

“L-like… doughnuts?”

RFB sniggered quite loudly.

“No, like groups. See, there’s us here in 707 Alpha, the jelly-filled ones. Then there’s 707 Bravo, who are these frosted creams, and Charlie, like these two double chocolates, and Delta as well who are… uhhh, you’re out of doughnuts, but you get the point, right? Each Office is broken into one Command team and three Combat teams.”

“Okay…” A4 sat back, absorbing the information. Her eyes shifted, momentarily dipping into tiny pinpoints before dilating to normal.

It seemed to rebound off of her skinny middle as Grizzly withdrew a jelly doughnut and placed it into her lap. “Here, this one’s Spas. You should eat her before she steals more of your food.”

“W-wha?” Spas asked. “No! Don’t eat me, I taste squishy!”

Any remaining questions suddenly died as A4 was taken by a powerful blush.

“You should let me eat me instead,” the albino grinned, poking a finger into a pudgy cheek. “I know how to do it the best.”

Mosin snickered, her deep husky voice throbbing as her tummy spilled onto the table when she made to stand. “Grizzly’s serious. Spas may be the smallest of us, but she’s got quite the appetite. Shall we move to the couches, girls?”

“A4 still hasn’t finished her doughnuts.”

The lithe brunette swallowed nervously. “I-I had a big… first breakfast. I don’t think-”

“Nonsense,” Mosin waved. “You may bring them along to the couch and finish them at your leisure. Or, I can help feed them to you…” and then she grinned like a fat, powerful Russian bear.

A4 swallowed, taking and chomping on Spas the doughnut to the disappointed eyes of Spas the fatass. It took A4 a moment to find her feet, and then another to steady her breath. She hadn’t been kidding, she already looked pretty well stuffed. Grizzly even felt a little bad for the skinny little thing.

“Here, let’s get you out of that,” Grizzly offered, moving behind A4 and taking her large coat by the collar.

An abrupt shuffle and A4 had twisted around defensively, holding the coat tight over her. Her doughnut was caught in her mouth beneath her shielded eyes, but she seemed to forget it was still there when she tried to speak. It tumbled free, leaving ruby stained lips. “N-no, umm, I’m not… I can’t take it off. Sorry. It’s part of my… uniform.”

The way that she clung to it spoke to it being more than that. Grizzly perked an eyebrow, looking down at A4’s body. “It’s a free day, ain’t it? Who cares about uniform regulations? You can always…” then she noticed the nervousness that shook A4 when her violet eyes trailed over the quivering girl’s exposed thighs.

She was hardly wearing anything underneath the jacket except for a skin-tight gray dress and a pair of white pantyhose over some gray slip-on shoes. Grizzly blinked down at her feet.

“Wait, you went out on exploration duty? Wearing those?”

A4 teetered. If she could have hidden her feet inside of her coat, she probably would have. Grizzly then saw the top of he dress didn’t even have straps, rather it left the entirety of her arms exposed and was held up by a gray choker around her neck that suddenly looked excessively tight. Bits of her breasts were visible beneath. 

Grizzly grasped all of these things in the blink of an eye, but the lack of bra stood out the sharpest. Grizzly didn’t wear one, but that was in spite of her uniform claiming she needed to. All of the sudden, it seemed like the garrison jacket was the only thing that A4 really wanted to wear.

She didn’t say anything, her bright brown hair falling over and obscuring her right eye. “I-I just… I’m sorry, but… what I mean-”

“A4?”

Spas had come to her shoulder and wrapped a fluffy arm around her back. She began walking towards their bedroom, and the shelter of the thin wall. 

“I was thinking, do you have any jammies? I only just got some after I joined, but they’re so comfy and big! It’s like wearing a coat! I can let you try them on.”

“Oh… um… that’s okay, I’ve got my…”

“Aww, but it’d be so fun!” Spas cheered, her tummy waggling openly. “It’s like a sleep over! Doughnuts and some video games, right? We can get you a pair too! Come check these out!”

Spas led her around the wall, only their shadows visible as they moved behind the decorative flowers displayed on the paper. Grizzly turned to RFB and grimaced. 

“Yeah?” RFB asked.

“Pff,” Grizzly blew, “Yeah. She seems like she has some… issues.”

“Well, did you see what I meant? Her waist is so tiny, it looks like she’s about to fall apart. Even Spas is already dwarfing her.”

“We’ll fix her up.” This was Mosin, now, looking after the two girls retreat. “All she needs is some time to adjust. After the Commander and I return from the party this weekend, we can talk more about her break. Did you notice her tic?”

“Yeah,” RFB said. “Her eyes.”

Grizzly shook her head. “Tic?”

Mosin hummed, concerned. “Her pupils. They get really small, I think that’s when she’s remembering something her mind won’t let her.”

Grizzly frowned. She’d noticed her clothing but not A4’s eyes. At least Spas had been mostly belly noises. She wasn’t sure how to handle a wilted girl like this.

“Maybe you’d notice if you weren’t looking at Master Miller’s ass,” RFB teased.

“I-I wasn’t…” the tubby bear trailed off, blushing. She glanced over to the bar, listening to the work tools crank. Miller was laying on top of the counter, both his arms behind the stove while Winters held it upright. He winked, then nodded toward Miller.

Grizzly’s blush intensified.

Mosin clicked her tongue. “If you see that, back off of her. We’ll take it easy on her for a week, so don’t push her too far, alright? She needs to know that she’s safe here.”

“Alright,” the others agreed.

“Good,” Mosin scooped up one of the remaining doughnuts. “Grizzly, go and grab the last of the sectional and bring it out. We should pull a little bit of our weight, at least.”

“What?!” Grizzly moaned. “Awe, come on! What are you two gonna do?!”

Mosin waddled past her. “Go sit on the couch and wait for you to set up the TV.”

“Seniority rules~” RFB chimed, poking Grizzly in the belly as she walked by.

Grizzly growled even louder than her belly. “Whatever! I’m not the fresh meat anymore!”

“No, but the fresh meat is tending to the fresher one, and you didn’t catch it, so mmynaaah,” RFB stuck her tongue out, flopping down on the partially completed couch while Mosin laid the doughnut box on the table and sat back with her hands on her belly.

“This place is so unfair!”

“Tell me about it,” Winters grunted from behind the bar, followed by an exceptionally loud screech. The oven clicked into place.

******************************************************************************

In the time it took Grizzly to drag out and connect the remaining piece of the U-shaped couch, Winters and Miller had finished connecting the stove and the refrigerator. Miller had also removed a piece of the ceiling, connecting into the central ventilation system along with a dedicated fan so any smoke generated by cooking could be vented to the outside. 

“It’s lucky that you’re over the café,” he told Winters. “If not, you’d have a much bigger problem with smoke dissipating. This vent will suck anything out and dispose of it for you, so your office won’t look like it’s on fire when you cook.”

“I honestly can’t believe I hadn’t considered that,” Winters replied. “That’s why we keep you around, eh? Make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall apart.”

Miller just looked at him before saying, “I have to admit, it’d be funny if the conspiracy were blown because you wanted to make a burger.”

“You call it that too much,” Winters replied. “It’s not really a conspiracy.”

“A hidden operation within the command structure of a military with the intent to overthrow the leadership. Where I’m from, that’s a conspiracy.”

“We’ve been over this,” Winters sighed. “We’re not the military, we’re a PMC that’s in over its head and throwing lives away. And this isn’t MI5, Edward.”

Miller shrugged, his intent hidden behind his glasses. “All I’m saying, right? Is that if Kryuger got wind of what we’d been doing with his property, he’d have a pretty big fit.”

“They’re not property.”

“No, I know they ain’t, but nobody else in this bloody country seems to get that.” Miller’s accent grew tighter as he got more worked up. “Whoever’s contracting this fight against Sangvis is paying out their nose to keep it silent. Even the locals don’t really get it. John, we got a Christmas bonus last week. It’s October. They’ve only got the statistics that Griffin’s released, and I don’t think anyone outside thinks we’re going to a funeral in that cursed city. Volgograd’s great big party. If Konrad had been keeping any sort of information on us…” Miller squeezed his hand into a fist, the fingers popping. Even now, when Winters could tell he was worrying, the man’s face was stone. “We could be heading straight for a trap.”

“And we’ve been preparing precisely for that,” Winters nodded toward Spas’ dummy, which stood at the corner staring into the room. “And I’m going to assume that your team has been doing the same, aren’t they? Or else, Welrod would be…” Winters paused.

He turned around and looked up at the vent that Miller had left open.

His eyes blue eyes returned to Miller.

“You never know. Sometimes she needs an invitation to come in.”

Winters shook his head. “I’m getting a lock for that, you know.”

Miller sighed. “Trust me, it won’t help.”

“Oh, goodness…” 

Winters turned, caught off guard by his Marshmallow’s tone. He saw A4 and Spas come around the paper curtain, both girls wearing their voluminous hair all the way down. Spas was squeezed into a pair of black and red pajamas that hardly buttoned over her middle, and shorts that resembled little more than underwear. A4 came with her, dressed in a loose red tee with red and black stripped pants, taking hesitant steps on her bare feet. The shirt hung loosely around one shoulder, showing off her collarbone in an extremely attractive, sleepy sort of way. She was looking down and over towards Spas, who gave her an encouraging grin.

“Wow, A4! That suits you so well!” RFB complimented. “You look so comfy!”

Grizzly was panting, large belly throbbing as she gasped for air while standing on top of a table near the freshly erected wall mounted television. She looked like she was trying to say something, but was far, far, far too out of shape to do more than breathe out a gasping, “Good…”

“We might all need to wear our pajamas today,” Marshmallow praised. “In fact… Commander? Would you mind that at all?”

Winters thought of Marshmallow’s sheer white nightgown that stretched tight over her pudgy navel. “Absolutely not. Make it the uniform of the day,” he said before turning to A4. “That looks very good on you. We can get you some clothing of your own soon, if you’d like.”

A4 let out a held breath, and soon she was giggling, and swaying in her stance, looking down at her body. “I think that I would.”

Spas looked exceptionally pleased.

“Ahh,” Miller sighed, looking through his toolbox. He clicked open a hidden compartment, lifting the multiple shelves inside of the box up to reveal a combat knife, a silenced pistol, and a communicator. “I’ll let the others know as well, then. I imagine Welrod and they would like to know to dress a little more… informal.”

Winters snorted. “Sure.”

“Right…” the pause lasted for a couple of moments before Miller looked up, and Winters saw his own blue eyes reflected in the glasses. “There… may be a problem.”

“Yes…?

“I have no idea if Welrod owns any other clothing.”

Winters frowned. “Isn’t she your direct adjutant?”

“Well, yes.”

“Have you not asked?”

“Why would I ask what clothes she owns?”

“Hey, Mosin?” Winters asked. “What clothes do you own?”

“Commander? Umm, well, I have-”

He wasn’t really listening. Simply smiled calmly and nodded, turning back to Miller and sharpening a smirk.

Miller continued to stare until he looked toward the stove and mumbled, “It’s gonna have the Union Jack all over it, isn’t it…?”

“Activity in the hallway,” RFB called from the couch, interrupting the scene. She was looking down at one of the tech pads, tapping a yellow alert on the screen. “Someone just exited the eastern stairwell.”

“Doll or human?”

The pad opened, projecting a golden map of the building. “There’s no IFF signature. It has to be a human.”

“Or it’s 45,” Winters shrugged. “More than likely, it’s Bellows come with the bar stools and groceries.”

“What, all at once?” Miller asked.

“He doesn’t like making multiple trips. I’ll go greet him.”

Winters stepped out from around the bar. As he passed Mosin, he rubbed his hand through her hair affectionately. “You girls better go get changed. You’re out of uniform,” he winked.

Mosin giggled as brightly as her husky breath could manage. “Yes, Commander!”

He got to the door and stepped outside, watching Marshmallow’s heavy bottom as she went into the inner office. She was nearly as wide as the doorframe now. How much longer would it take until she got stuck in there, fed more and more as he indulged her… other desires.

He turned, looking down the hall, and saw Bellows come around the corner carrying a massive crate in his wide arms as if it were as light as 45 used to be. He signaled him with a wave. “Got it all?”

“I could use a little help,” Bellows laughed. “You think you ordered enough groceries?”

Winters went to his side, taking the container. It was much, much heavier than Bellows made it seem, but Winters was used to heavier weights. “Christ, the hell did they package this with?”

“You’ve seen how much they eat. And I tagged some M&Ms in there too. 45’s gonna be pissed off enough that she has to come up here to use the kitchen.”

“Still haven’t told her?” 

“Hell no,” Bellows opened the door, letting Winters pass inside. “Or else that stove wouldn’t have made it here in the first place.”

Winters entered the room, setting the crate down near the bar. He and Bellows pried open the top, revealing numerous smaller crates inside. He looked around and saw A4’s curious eyes.

“Want to help?” he asked. 

The timid doll moved closer, looking into the large box, and then nodded.

******************************************************************************

The sizzling smack of meat on the grill was met by a flurry of girlish cheers. Most of 707 had swapped into what could only loosely be considered pajamas, and could more accurately be identified as unintentional lingerie, except in the case of Marshmallow, whose lingerie was so intentional that she needed to wear her fluffy white coat on top so she wouldn’t be completely exposed.

The only one who wasn’t fitted into something was the soft little bear. Grizzly had taken one look at her fluffy cub onesie and decided that that wouldn’t fly. Even if she could mash her hips and her belly in there, there was no way in hell the zipper would close over her breasts. So she wore her tight white top pulled up over her belly, the girth of her unrestricted boobs pushing large gaps between the buttons, and kept her ripped shorts mostly because getting out presented as much a problem as fitting in would. 

She vowed to change into something more suitable after a much-desired lunch, now feeling the bubble of drool forming at the corner of her lips as the gray steam drifted up from the mound of ground beef.

With a glance, she saw the large women of 707 filling out the extra-large stools of the bar, each with their eyes locked onto the pan while Winters divided the beef into patties, with one already browning extremely appetizingly, slathered in cooking oil and grease.

She knew it was the spiked pleasure receptors, but she couldn’t help lifting herself just a few inches further, drinking in the lovely scent and exciting her swollen hunger. 

Mosin was unconsciously rubbing her belly, reaching so far forward that her hand could have disappeared over the horizon of her gut. 

Spas, meanwhile, was in even worse sorts. She looked like she was about to launch herself over the bar and start snacking on the pile of condiments that were being prepared by Miller. Fresh lettuce, sliced tomato, and a bit of onion for the bottom on a fat pair of sesame seed buns. 

Grizzly chuckled inwardly, realizing the air of reverence, and knowing it would be shattered the moment Bellows returned with 505 in tow. She turned to Winters and, loudly, decided to break the calm.

“Dibs!!” she called.

Instantly, the others were shouting her down.

“What?!”

“No way! Me first!!”

“Awee, Grizz come on! The first one?”

“I called dibs!” Grizzly put her hands on her hips. “It’s the first thing the Commander has made for us on the new grill, so it’s special! You slow pokes can wait!”

“Commander!”

Winters shrugged. “She does have a point. She did call it.”

“John,” Mosin said simply, patting her tummy and giving him bedroom eyes.

“No! No no, none of that! Manipulation!! Rigged!” Grizzly decreed. “You can’t cheat dibs!”

Winters was chuckling, his teeth over his lip before he shrugged and flipped the patty. “Let her have this one,” he said to Mosin.

The woman’s face dipped into a deep pout, but the crashing of the office door drew her away.

UMP45 stomped through the door on quivering thighs, each step loud enough that the whole building seemed to be shaking beneath her loose gray shirt and tight black shorts. Even though she was smaller than most in 707, the girl seemed larger than life as she rounded the bar and pointed at the grill.

“What the HELL is that?!” she demanded sourly.

“A burger,” Grizzly broke in.

45 did an awkward angry dance, pounding her feet. “Why the hell do you guys get a kitchen?! It should be downstairs, in our room!!”

“Jealous, are we?” Mosin replied.

UMP45 rounded, glaring at Mosin from her bright amber eyes. “Oh, I see, you wouldn’t have been able to fit out the office door to come down, huh?!”

A deep chuckle came from the entrance as Bellows entered with USP and FNC trailing nervously behind. FNC wore a similarly casual outfit, a short white and brown dress and her hair worn down, but USP was strangely in her full dress uniform. “Calm down, 45,” Bellows chided. “You can come up and use it any time that you like.”

“It’s not me using it!” 45 stomped again, her long sidetail cracking like a bratty whip. “It’s… you’re supposed to do it! And then you bring the food for…” 45 paused, looking around the office at large. “Wait… this is what you meant by remodeling?!” She looked over the wide couch, the set table, and the small bedroom. “Commander! Look at the size of their beds! What the hell am I sleeping on the couch for?!”

“You said you like sleeping on the couch!” Bellows replied. 

“Not when they’re sleeping in beds! Look, you could fit all of us on one of these!”

“Not with your fat ass,” Grizzly countered. “They’re just reinforced twins from the spare dorm reserves. Mosin’s queen sized bed is in the office.”

“HER WHAT?!”

USP tugged on Bellows’ coat. He nodded down at her. “Go ahead, team leader.”

USP cleared her throat. “45, I’ll put in a request with the Commander for some beds, and to do a little reworking of our own. Is that fair?”

45 squinted. “Why are you acting like he’s not right next to you?”

A droplet of sweat immediately began to form beneath USP’s long brown hair. “B-because we have to be formal. 707’s newest member is here, and someone needs to represent the best of our Office.”

A4 looked like she might try ducking behind Mosin as USP turned to acknowledge her.

The team leader bowed respectfully, her formal dressed swaying over her long pudgy legs. “Hello, Miss M1919A4. I am USP, and these are my sisters FNC and UMP45. Our fourth member, Suomi, is currently…” she glanced at the Commander from the corner of her eye, “out shopping. We’d like your permission to join you of 707 Alpha for lunch.”

A4 looked over to Mosin, who gave no response. The marshmallow Russian waited.

Scarlet eyes returned to USP’s large green gaze. “S-sure,” A4 nodded.

USP bowed once more. “Thank you. Shall we take the table seats?”

“Umm… sure,” A4 agreed.

“Before I forget,” 45 spoke up. She went to Bellows’ side and reached her piggy fingers into his jacket, withdrawing a large manila folder. The Commander didn’t make any noise of complaint to the violation of space, though Grizzly could only assume he was used to it.

45 came around the bar, passing the folder to Winters and looking over at the beef. “Make sure to make me a double, okay? And no tomatoes, I hate tomatoes. Unless they’re grilled!”

Winters looked over the folder, then glanced at A4. She was too busy looking at USP and FNC to notice, but Grizzly had just enough time to make out her full name on the cover before Winters put the file face down on the counter and turned back to 45. “… Does that mean you want them grilled?”

“No, I said I don’t want tomatoes!” 

Bellows came through the side. Between the three commanders and the tubby doll, there wasn’t much room left. “You better let me make theirs. USP likes extra salt, and FNC wants sugar sprinkled on her veggies.”

“She wants what?” Miller asked.

“They’re all very particular,” he put a hand on 45’s head. It seemed that, despite everything, she couldn’t resist at least the soft grin creeping over her lips, and when he made to pull his hand away, she grabbed it by the wrist and put her fingers through. “I’m sure you know your teams’ preferences, yeah? Where is 512 Alpha?”

Miller shrugged. “Welrod likes her tea with extra sugar cubes.”

Winters turned and looked up and down the bar. “Honestly, they sort of eat everything I put in front of them.”

“We’re not picky,” RFB shrugged.

“Yeah, it shows…” 45 stuck out her tongue, winking with her scarred eye before trundling around the side. 

“What’s the matter?” Grizzly fired. “You skip breakfast or something chubby?”

45 hissed, “I had plenty of M&M’s thank you.”

“We had pancakes,” Spas grinned. “Oh, and Miss Kalina sent us doughnuts too!”

“Oooo… I want doughnuts…” FNC’s bright voice pierced the abyss of envious rage that radiated from 45. “Do you have any left?”

“We might!” Spas hopped up out of her seat, the quick action snapping the lowest button around her tummy. With so many quickly growing dolls around, nobody even seemed to notice her belly popping free. “The boxes are over by the TV. Come on!”

“Okay!”

FNC followed Spas to the couch, giving Grizzly a good view of both their fat bottoms. It was impressive to consider how much Spas had grown… she was quickly approaching FNC’s tubby width, and likely already weighed more than the shorter girl.

Grizzly turned to A4 and began to wonder, before a plate was set in front of her and all of her attention was transfixed to her burger.

It looked beyond tasty. RFB was cooing, looking over with hungry and envious eyes. The meat was cooked medium well, tight in a lovely patty that glistened with hot juicy goodness. Dribbles of grease already stained the perfect golden bun, the melting cheese turning to mush. Commander Winters winked at her again before turning back to the stove.

Grizzly sighed in bliss before picking up the plate and making one of the hardest decisions of her life.

“Here you are, A4.”

The doll’s scarlet eyes widened as the plate was set in front of her. She blinked down at it, then looked back up into Grizzly’s smiling face. “B-but,” she began.

“Just take it,” Grizzly sat back, laying both hands on her smooth gut and drumming it tightly, “before I regret it.” She tried to ignore Mosin and RFB’s grins.

A4 blinked, turning back to her burger. Very hesitantly, she picked it up and, with all eyes watching, took her first bite. The crunch of the lettuce and rip of the meat was enough to make Grizzly wince in horrendous pain before a second plate was quickly set in front of her and her grubby hands snatched it, slamming the first bite into her hungry mouth.

Both girls leaned back, swallowing freshly cooked meat into dough stuffed middles, groaning deliciously before coming in for more.

What remained of Grizzly’s shorts did not last for long.