Filling Out the Frontline Chapter 9: Toasted Buns (Beta Copy) (Patreon)

“I do not care if she comes,” Welrod blushed. “It is her choice! Now will you please help me?! We’re going to be late!”

AS Val came up behind the smooth operator, tugging the shirt down over her smoother tummy. “B-but Ithaca,” she began to complain.

“Ithaca is a big girl that can make her own decisions!” 

Welrod tried desperately to close the clasps on her shirt. Her breasts weren’t that large. They couldn’t be that large! Welrod was developing… no, had developed! Had! 

She was going to lose weight, to change her soft lifestyle and that of her…

Val waddled into view, all but massacring that thought before it could take root. AS Val had shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She also had a permanent double chin along with an absolute excess of fat. If Welrod weren’t intimately familiar with the exact size of the girls in 707, she’d have thought Val was the fattest girl she’d ever met. She still looked like she could rival the others, even now munching on some treat pulled from a satchel that she wore on her hip. 

Welrod was surprised to see that the belt could even close around Val’s jello belly, but she quickly realized that the pouch was clinging around Val’s thigh. The girl had gotten so fat that she was wearing a full satchel strapped around one single leg, which was now as fat as her whole waist had been.

Beneath a pair of sleek red-rimmed glasses, Val was giving Welrod a look as flat as she was fat. “Welrod, that doesn’t fit you.”

“Of course it fits!” Welrod angrily blushed. She fumbled for the buttons again, trying this time to go from the bottom up. “I’ve had these Union Jack pajamas since I was a girl!”

“… How old are you?”

“That doesn’t matter!” Welrod pushed one of the buttons through, squeezing as much of the puff out of her chest as she could. “They’re important!” She was getting excited as her fingers slipped another button in, then another. “Look! It fits perfectly!”

She finished buttoning up the shirt, tugging it down to cover her waist. The glory of her nation, of her homeland, of the queen and country that she served, shined throughout the entirety of Office 512 like a glowing beacon of national pride.

And then every single clasp flubbed, snapping outward to the tune of ‘Hail Britannia’ as Welrod exploded out of her outfit like a washing wave of flooded tea. She was left entirely exposed, her breasts sitting on top of her thickened waist and pudgy potbelly. 

Welrod’s head lulled back, tears bubbling inside of her eyes. “S-stiff upper lip, old girl… Don’t let them see you cry,” she sniffed to herself.

Her Union Jack shorts, having seen the size of Welrod’s thighs and desperate to avoid the same fate as their counterpart, took the moment of distraction to vanish into the aether, never to be seen again.

“Okay, Missy!” Val came in, her hands pushing into her huge hips. “You’re gonna have to wear a skirt. Have you been upsizing your costumes from Kalina?”

“… I have not,” Welrod admitted.

Val sighed. “Me neither… all I have is my dress, but I’m afraid of even trying to switch. Okay, that leaves traditional clothes! It’s pretty obvious nothing’s going to fit over your ass.”

Welrod coughed. When Val glared at her from behind her glasses she mumbled, “Shouldn’t swear to your commanding officer,” touching her toes to the ground, her blush as pink as her belly was pale.

Val stomped a meaty leg, startling Welrod. “And you should be more worried about Ithaca! She’s been acting weird ever since you two were wrestling this morning!”

Welrod’s blush deepened, remembering the confrontation, and sparking all the pleasure receptors that had come with the soft woman’s touch.

“She went straight to Kalina’s office when we got back. And now you pop up out of nowhere, which gave me half a heart attack!! Again!!! And started shouting about pajamas and lunch! Welrod, I don’t even own pajamas! I barely fit into this!”

To prove her point, AS Val leapt up and down, her belly slapping irately against her fat thighs. All she wore was a stripped blue and white bikini top. Her black and white skirt clung around her fat belly roll, a pool of pale pudge clearly showing beneath the trim and covering her decency. Most of her body was thankfully covered by her tan coat. She was the largest lardball in 512, and while she normally seemed quite happy with that, she was obviously quite anxious right now.

“You could take off your jacket…” Welrod suggested.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Val stripped it off. She glared at Welrod. “Does this look like pajamas to you? I look naked!”

“Some people sleep naked.”

Val pouted.

“Alright! We’ll figure something out! But we have to hurry, Commander Miller summoned us for lunch, and if we’re not there soon we’ll miss it!”

“Well, then?” Val asked. “What are you suggesting, team leader?”

Welrod blinked, and then very slowly swiveled toward the Commander’s inner office.

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

Welrod’s blonde head peeped out from around the corner of the seventh-floor hallway. There wasn’t anyone in sight. No door guard, no dogs, no turrets, and no Jupiter cannons.

This mission would be a piece of cake. Go in, get lunch, and then form a formal withdraw. 

Welrod checked her mission clock. It read 1800.

The perfect time for lunch.

Behind her, the noise of Val’s tremendous gasping crept up. Welrod turned around to shush her and saw that her blonde hair and pale face were now covered in a thick layer of exhausted sweat. “W-why,” she breathed, “did we… take the… stairs??”

Welrod frowned. “It’s only two flights!”

“Do you… have any idea… how many… stairs… that is?”

“Like, 20!”

“So you do… get it…” Val sagged against the wall. The bright red bedsheet she’d covered herself with began to be pulled out of her fingers, caught between the concrete and her soft body. It slipped around her shoulders, exposing her buttery biceps and the chubby rolls formed on them.

Welrod tried to catch her. She managed, just barely, like a kickstand supporting a motorcycle. The blue tee she wore was pulled tight across her chest, causing her to worry enough about popping a stitch that she nearly let Val fall. Luckily, the other doll found her footing.

Welrod tugged the shirt down past her hips, trying her best to cover her black laced panties. She was grateful then that Commander Miller usually purchased clothing a few sizes too large…

“Alright, you good?” she asked. 

Val panted, resting her palms on her knees before tightening the bedsheet again.

Welrod nodded. “512 Alpha, on mission. Our first obstruction, Office 707’s door!”

She wrapped herself again around the wall, peering. Who knew what sort of devilish scheming that Grizzly was up to this time? If only she could perform proper recon… but, last night had been proof that proper recon might need to be temporarily on hold.

Again, she adjusted Miller’s shirt to fit over her rear.

Again, the effect was largely useless.

“The hallway might be trapped…” she whispered. “I don’t see any pressure plates, nor beams of light. But a good agent can never be too careful.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Val grunted. She walked around Welrod, who began to fervently protest in fear of an unsuspected boulder, or worse, a camera. Val trundled to the office door. She knocked on it three times before loudly proclaiming, “AS Val and team leader Welrod reporting to… eat lunch…” she finished lamely.

“Come on in~” someone sang from the other side.

Val reached for the door handle but Welrod beat her to it, pressed against the doorframe in a breaching position. “They could be waiting for us!” she whispered tersely.

The blubbery blonde’s face couldn’t fall any further, but it was definitely trying as Welrod ordered her to the other side and began fumbling at her own soft hip. 

Only after a few squishy snatches at her fatty hips did Welrod realize she wasn’t wearing her pistol. Her green eyes became the size of .32 ACP rounds. “Bastard!” she whispered the curse, then looked to Val. “I don’t have my weapon. Where’s yours?”

“I must have left it in my other bedsheet…”

“Blast.” Welrod bit on her lip, “It could be a trap. What do we know about the enemy?”

“Welrod…”

The serious-faced blonde released the door handle. She began flicking fingers up as she listed off her perceived facts. “We know that Kryuger has killed Commander Konrad and is holding the wake in Stalingrad-”

“Volgograd,” Val corrected softly.

As if she’d said nothing, Welrod continued. “- to commemorate his passing. We know that Konrad was likely tortured with jumper cables and gave us all up. What if it’s Kryuger himself on the other side of the door?”

“Then Commander Miller is probably dead.”

Welrod’s face opened in horrified alarm. She twisted, throwing all of her weight at the door and slamming it open. “Commander!!” she screamed.

“Christ, Welrod. You’re gonna damage the wall…”

The office was largely dark, except for a few faint glows emanating from three well positioned lamps. The harsh overhead lighting had been turned off, giving the newly redecorated office an extremely homey atmosphere. Numerous eyes, more than she was prepared for, now held her in their sight.

Welrod’s chest bounced, her body fighting with her feet between retreating into cover and advancing on the enemy. Her heart thumped so loudly that she couldn’t hear Val’s, “Good evening, girls. Good evening, Commanders. Sorry we’re late.” Welrod’s eyes were transfixed to the man wearing sunglasses with one raised blonde eyebrow staring at her.

The instinct to flee into darkness won out, but Val now filled the entirety of the door and pushed Welrod forward with a soft belly roll. The fear of a boulder briefly reappeared before she realized it was Val, but a new fear replaced it when the exasperated frown that Val wore registered.

“S-sorry,” Welrod muttered, touching her fingers together. She turned to the rest of the assembled party, hardly seeing them when she made to bow. “G-good evening, ladies. Good evening Commanders.”

“Good evening, Welrod.” Mosin greeted. “I’m surprised you remember the greeting of the day.” 

“It was only drilled into us for years…” Welrod replied.

Mosin chuffed, leaning back on her heavy padding. “I suppose that’s true,” she smiled. “You’re setting quite a good example.” She sat alongside Commander Winters on one of the edges of the U-shaped couch. The albino girl, Spas, sat next to her, digging hungry fingers into a blue bag of chips labeled ‘party-sized.’ Invariably, the bag had been mislabeled, judging by the multiple empty wrappers decorating the table. 

On the main section of the couch, a new girl sat nearest to Spas. She was thin. Welrod had known that, she’d seen A4 from the vent in Kalina’s office before, but she’d never really realized just how skinny she was. In a set of large jammies and with her thin legs tucked up to her chest, A4 looked like the stem of a flower in a forest of trees, surrounded on all sides.

Next to her was Grizzly, who looked to be doing her best to fit inside of a giant brown onesie. A thread of stitches attempted to close the pajamas over breasts and a belly like a homemade corset, a mountain of chub that no zipper could contain. Rather than detract, the homemade design actually made the cute pajamas into something much more attractive. The look was completed with a furry brown hood with fuzzy brown ears set on top. Violet eyes blinked at Welrod above a sweet, judging grin, a hand placed to her soft lips.

Images of Ithaca bounced around Welrod’s neural cloud like buckshot. The soft mounds resting openly on a partially exposed tum, it was almost too much to handle. She’d probably kill for an outfit like Grizzly’s.

There were others there too, another man that she hardly recognized as Commander Bellows sitting on the opposite side with UMP45 and Suomi, but she couldn’t bring herself to separate from the brown bear’s smug, colorful eyes. She stared back into them even when RFB’s looming shadow eclipsed the light of the television and she shouted, “Got it!!” before a burst of color and volume flooded the room.

Someone was talking to her as a fresh game began to play, but Welrod couldn’t hear. She felt herself coloring even more harshly, tugging down on the ill-fitting men’s shirt and remembering Grizzly’s perchance for fashion. Leave it to her rival to make a onesie that didn’t fit somehow look good.

Spas leaned over and whispered a question to Grizzly. “That’s the butt girl?”

Grizzly’s smile grew fatter.

Welrod’s blush was the brightest light in the room. She quickly moved past the group, keeping that stiff upper lip of her ancestors past, and headed to her Commander’s side.

Miller tightened up, his back sitting straighter and his legs uncrossing. Welrod felt a stab of rewarded British pride and more than a touch of envy when she saw he had a cup of tea at his side, still steaming hot. However everything faded when she looked at herself in his glasses, saw her fatter than fat hips filling out the glass like a funhouse mirror. 

Was she really that big? She couldn’t be that big. RFB was that big, and Welrod wasn’t ye- no not yet she wasn’t ever, she couldn’t b-

“Welrod?” Commander Miller asked.

The tubby blonde realized she was almost at the point of hyperventilation. Very loudly she declared, “512 Alpha, reporting for lunch!” and stooped into a low, butt-exposing bow. “W-we’re dressed in the uniform of the day, as per your orders!”

A lengthy pause followed, where Welrod tried her best to not cry as she felt his eyes looking over his stretching out shirt. She was about to break when he shifted. “Yes, good show, Miss Welrod.”

Shock flooded her neural cloud as she was swept off her feet by a powerful wind. She swallowed, nearly taking her tongue and coming up with a cough. When she looked, she could hardly believe her eyes.

Her Commander was sitting on a stool in front of her.

It was one of the nicest moments of Welrod’s life.

“T-t-thank you, Commander.”

“Come,” he nodded at her and Val, rising from his stool. “Have a seat. I’ll cook you two up a bite, eh? Fancy some tea?”

The previous moment was shoved off of a cliff, now replaced by this one. 

“Y-yes, Commander!” she teetered, glancing at Val to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

Val only had eyes for the stove. Her hands held the bedsheet tight over her like a cloak, moving up to and thumping onto a stool with a great sigh. “What do you have, Commander?”

“Everyone else had burgers earlier, so I was thinking that. We’ve still got some ground beef and plenty of vegetables. FNC and USP went back down a bit earlier. Did you see them when you came up?”

“No, Commander… sorry we’re so late.”

Welrod looked at the Commander’s empty stool, considering it for a moment before taking the one next to it. She hopped up, afforded plenty of cushion by her plump posterior. 

“That isn’t a problem,” he waved off the apology, filling up a pot with water dispensed from a freshly installed sink. “Just means you’ve been working hard all day, eh?”

Val looked nervously over at Welrod, who had abruptly become exceptionally enthralled with her own lap. “Y-yes,” Val softly replied. “We’ve been… busy…”

“I expected Ithaca to be with you. Where’s she at?”

“She’s with Miss Kalina,” Val said. “She went straight to her office when we got back. It’s been a while.”

“I ‘spose that explains where she’s been,” came another man’s voice. Commander Bellows was dressed in a simple olive-green tee and dark black slacks, his large arms lifting the shirt as he stretched tiredly. “Kalina was supposed to be here about an hour ago.”

“Yes… Ithaca was rather insistent when we returned.” Val said softly, her cheeks coloring when she looked at Bellows. “How are you tonight, Commander?”

“Sore,” he laughed without clarifying, his eyes flickering back towards the couch. Welrod turned to see a pair of amber feline eyes watching them over the back. “Figured I’d offer some help,” Bellows continued, opening the freezer. “Burgers, yeah?”

“Yes. Thanks, chap,” Miller bade.

Bellows looked him up and down before nodding. “Uhh, hey, can you take a look in here? I think my eyes must be sore too.”

Welrod felt the edge returning. Why would Commander Bellows’ eyes be sore? Was there something wrong with the fridge? Was Commander Miller in danger? Did she need to act? If only she had her weapon, she’d be able t-

“You’re trying too hard,” she heard Bellows whisper as Miller bent into the fridge. “Be yourself.”

Miller sank just a bit, like the wind was fading from his red white and blue colors. He lifted his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, exposing dark circles below a tired watch. “Yeah. Alright,” he replied. 

He snagged a packet of beef from the freezer and went to the stove as the pot began to whine. From another cabinet, he measured a small dose of leaves and mixed it into a pair of teacups while Bellows started on the meat.

Miller talked less now, his blank features remaining his own. He passed each girl a cup before going to the center and retrieving his own. 

The agent felt a bubble of nervousness forming inside of her chest. She tried to drown it, or at least burst the bubble with some finely made tea. She sipped, tasting the steaming hot drink as it flowed down her throat and feeling a heightened panic as she realized she couldn’t identify the leaves.

Was it Green Tea? Earl Gray? Or maybe it was Chamomile? 

There were too many flavors! What kind of British woman didn’t know her teas?!

On the edge of her seat and cycling through every plant that she could imagine, Welrod gulped down her cup in a few heavy pulls. When Commander Miller asked, “Would you like some more?” his British accent sounded much, much more reserved.

“Yes… please,” Welrod fretted, wondering what had happened to his upstanding mood. Had it been something she’d done? Something she’d said?

No, he’d said she put on a good show! And his voice had hung onto those vowels in the finest manner of speech!

When he turned around, she buried her face in her hands and tossed her fluffy blonde hair back. 

‘Relax!!’ she silently ordered herself. ‘Calm down! Stop freaking out, please!!’

“Would you girls like anything special for your food?”

Val spoke up first. “Do you have onions? Can I have those grilled?”

“You’ve got it,” Bellows winked. “Welrod?”

“Um…” she looked to Commander Miller for guidance and her heart skipped a girlish beat. “N-nothing,” she settled.

“She likes her buns toasted,” Miller supplied. 

“Hot buns, got it.” Bellows tossed a pair of buns onto the stove near the sizzling meat, browning them just the way that Welrod liked.

The young woman blushed and nodded appreciatively to her Commander. He didn’t respond, just turned back to the chopping with a large combat knife.

A noise picked up louder than her beating heart, startling her as Val came up from behind. “Are you doing okay?” she whispered.

Welrod gripped her chest. “F-fine,” she hissed back. “What do you want?”

Val frowned, blue eyes filled with concern. She glanced up at the Commanders before lifting a hand to Welrod’s ear. “You look like you’re having another panic attack,” she whispered.

Welrod’s heartrate increased. “I-I don’t get panicked,” she denied.

Val leaned forward, resting her forehead against her team leader’s side. “Welrod…” she whispered. “You’ve been off balance all day…”

“The chamomile will help with that,” Miller calmly stated over his shoulder, causing Val to ‘eep’ and bounce on the flats of her feet. Miller came back with the pot, filling her cup with lightly browned tea. “This is a new combination that Samuel picked up when at the marketplace. Combines chamomile, spearmint, and blackberry leaves with lemongrass and rosebuds. It’s supposed to help with sleep.”

Welrod drank. As he listed the ingredients, she could taste each mixing over her taste buds. Taking the time to focus lowered the claustrophobic pressure she’d felt in her head, as well as the thumping of her heart. Looking into the glasses, wishing she could see his eyes, Welrod nodded. “I thought I could taste that. But I wasn’t too sure.”

A nod was his simple reply.

Welrod sat back on her seat and drank slowly, forcing herself to hold the tea in her mouth and taste each individual flavor. Relax. Calm.

“That shirt looks good on you,” Miller approved before turning away. “You can keep it, if you’d like.”

Welrod really wished that she wasn’t made of ice cream, because she felt sure that she was melting.

“And Val, we’ll get Grizzly and Kalina to help you with some new clothes. I imagine she’ll have quite a few new requests considering the state of everyone’s pajamas.”

Soft spoken but reassured, Val replied, “Thank you, Commander. I’d like to get my clothing resized before this weekend.”

Another voice approached from behind. It sounded extremely pleased with itself as it knowledgeably asked, “Do you know your measurements?”

Welrod shuffled from side to side, trying to focus on her relaxing tea and not turning to look at the fattened-up bear in her too tight onesie. Val timidly responded, “Oh, hello Miss Grizzly. Umm, n-not currently, no.”

“Are you… wearing only a bedsheet?”

“U-ummm… w-well, I, uhh… I don’t…”

“What is with you girls?” Grizzly sighed. “Alright, come on. We’re gonna go take your measurements. I don’t think we have anything here that’ll fit you, but I can at least sew that shut so you don’t have to hold it closed.”

“Oh… t-thank you. But, umm, can we eat first?”

Grizzly shrugged, tapping Val’s smoothed shoulders. “You can’t use your hands if you’re keeping yourself wrapped. Let me at least make some arm holes and a clasp. It won’t take more than a minute, come on sister.”

“O-okay…”

Val lifted herself over and began wobbling along behind Grizzly. They stopped at a small desk near the paper curtain. “I’ve got it in here,” Welrod heard her say, picking through and pulling out a smiling white teddy bear purse. “This is Lincoln.”

“H-hello, Mister Lincoln,” Val bowed. The bedsheet stretched over her back, cutting in at her doughy belly rolls. When she straightened, it remained caught beneath her flabby sides.

“Lincoln protects my most treasured stuff,” Grizzly passed the bear to Val before returning through the desk. “Like… my sewing kit!” She withdrew a pink bag that looked entirely out of place with her normal attire, but she was grinning wide as she led Val and the cradled teddy around the curtain. “Alright, let’s have a look at you.”

A moment passed where the others just stared at the paper curtain before the voices continued from the other side.

“Wow, and I thought Welrod was fat.”

“H-heeey~ W-watch your hands, they’re… cold…”

Welrod blushed, turning back to her tea. She nearly hopped, entirely off guard when a plate with a fat juicy burger was placed in front of her.

“Looks like you’re first,” Commander Miller said.

Welrod gulped. She looked down at her burger, the browned buns toasted lightly and firm in her hands as she picked it up. She wouldn’t get lost this time, not again. No matter how good it tasted, no matter how delicious it smelled, Welrod would keep entire control of herself and her appetite. 

She ignored the rumble of her tummy as the scent trailed up into her nose, tried to keep her eyes from locking on the juicy meat and the well-cooked veggies. But no icy wall of reservation could withstand the warm and comforting touch, the gracing presence of a good burger. As the first bite vanished past her lips, the crunch of the veggies enhanced by the tenderness of the meat, Welrod felt what remained of her ice flowing into a piggish relaxation.

“Ooooh,” her eyes crossed, peering down at the bite she’d taken. A deep breath escaped and she sagged onto her fat backside.

“Wow,” Bellows chucked from the oven, flipping another patty. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had anything home cooked. We mostly get takeout,” Miller informed.

Welrod chomped down on another bite, eating slow and enjoying every moment. She looked from Miller to Bellows and swallowed, feeling a bit guilty. “I…” she frowned. “I’ve gotten used to eating meals cold. Something so fresh…” Another bite overflowed her sense of taste and began taking over the others. Touch, sight, even hearing were beginning to dull as golden grease decorated Welrod’s tongue and her tummy purred with deep satisfaction.

“Cold?” Bellows prompted.

Welrod was too busy losing herself to answer.

“She…” Miller paused, glancing at her, deciding something. “Welrod likes to keep busy. She’s outside the office often, while Ithaca and AS Val take things a bit more leisurely.”

Bellows hummed, scratching his whiskers. He moved to the fridge and withdrew another packet of ground beef, but Welrod was too busy entertaining royalty on her taste buds to notice. “The team leader should be with her team, Ed. Are you sending her out?”

Again, Miller glanced at Welrod, then up at the open ventilation grate. “No. She just likes to keep tabs on things.”

“Hmm.” Bellows watched with amusement as Welrod stretched her mouth over her burger, lazily snapping off a cheek-puffing mouthful like a prize cow. “Well, she’s not lacking for appetite, is she? Look at her go.”

For a moment there was only the sound of Welrod’s ponderous chewing. An emotion beyond simple good eats was written all over her face and pillow-like body. It was like each bite was impacting her, making her more mellowed and bringing her down to Earth where the most important thing was the next bite of burger, the taste of grilled onions and toasted buns covered in greasy meats.

“USP was like that,” Bellows piped up again. “Busybody. I forbade her from leaving for a while, but that made it worse. Cabin fever, you know?”

Miller continued to watch her. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“There’s a balance to it. I keep her entertained as best I can. She needs to feel useful, like she’s on top of things. I bet that sounds familiar.”

“Yeah.”

Bellows held the spatula to him, waving him to the stove. He handed him the pan with several patties already partially cooked. “Take some time with her, one-on-one. Let her know you need her in the office, with her sisters. She’ll come around. You haven’t even got a forty-five constantly trying to undermine her. And for fuck’s sake…” Bellows held up his hand, letting a simple white ring glint in the greasy light. “Oath her already.”

Even the reflection could not hide Miller’s uncomfortable glow.

Disappointingly, the presence to the monarchy ended and Welrod found her hands to be empty. They grasped unconsciously at her empty plate, deeply desiring another while her mind attempted to bring her vision and hearing back into focus. Her spring green eyes sharpened, looking down at her lap.

A moment ago, she’d felt like she was made of an electronic cloud, all of her systems sparking with enjoyment and pure raw pleasure. Now, she was solid. And boy was she solid. Even Miller’s shirt couldn’t contain her tummy for long, the pale dough flopped out like a pillow. She was more than a pear, with a dramatic curve to her hips and thighs that seemed impossibly fat on the extra wide stool.

Welrod sighed, unable to feel frustrated after so delicious a meal. She poked a finger into herself, feeling how soft she’d become. 

The ultimate weapon of the British empire. That’s what she believed her fate was to become. It was her destiny, her duty, her privilege to serve!

As it was Miller’s to serve her a second burger. The voice of resistance died, smothered beneath the excess of appetite and thick lardy thighs before it could even scream out in terror. Welrod tore her attention away from the fresh burger up to the fatty reflected in the glasses, but now she didn’t even see her. A memory danced in her head of that first night, sobbing as memories of suppression smothered her like a blanket while she held herself tight to a comforting chest.

They were blue eyes, she remembered. The color of the royals, as soft as the ocean. She could see glints of them now behind the layers of glass.

“What do you think about that?” he asked. “Spending a little more time in the office? I usually skip breakfast, but if it’s with you girls… Well, we could probably set up a table in the office, or just come up here more often.”

Welrod’s mouth had gone entirely dry, which was quite a feat considering she was about to start drooling. She looked from the burger back up to Miller, back to the burger, back to the man who was hers. “To-together?” she asked.

He nodded, a hand running through and smoothing his blonde hair back. “Yeah. It sounds kind of… nice, doesn’t it? Rather than just having tea and a couple of biscuits throughout while the others run up the credit card.”

Welrod’s fingers clamped down on her burger, but all of her attention was on Miller. “Y-yes. It does sound… quite good,” she managed before taking the bite. 

She almost didn’t taste it, because Miller’s pink lips opened in a rare smile that flooded her heart. “Good,” he agreed. “Alright. Breakfast tomorrow. I’ll bring…” he glanced up from Welrod’s chubby chewing cheeks. “Doughnuts.”

The girl swallowed and released another sharp breath. “Okay,” she responded with a nod of her own.

Miller leaned back, placing a hand on his hip. He seemed to stand a little bit taller as Welrod’s senses realized that she had food in her hand, and not just any food but food that was made for her by the king of her life.

She devoured the burger, instantly noticing when a third filled her plate, feeling herself watching, looking over the filling sandwich on her growing stack of plates. Salted beef, crunchy veggies, a dribble of condiments squirted over her lips. She hardly even felt it. Her belly rumbled impatiently, like she was famished despite stuffing her face. The focus drifted away from her body, away from her soft life, locking onto the pure heavenly taste and wanting to fill herself with more.

She didn’t know when Val had returned, her fatty arms now free to embellish her well rounded belly, didn’t notice how much faster the other girl ate or how in turn it was making her eat quicker, hungrier.

Another girl joined them, Grizzly, and then another. Miller was moving quickly behind the bar and Welrod was dimly aware that the shouting and laughing was all now around her. The whole group had moved to the bar, with Bellows and Miller tending to food while Winters served a variety of drinks. 

Someone bumped into her when she munched on her fifth burger and Welrod glanced to see the big grin and bigger belly of Miss Kalina as she reached for a black cherry bottle handed over the bar top. “Hey you!” Kalina clapped her on the back, noticing her look. “Finally joined us all for the party?”

Welrod nodded, unable to keep the cheerful smile off of her face. Someone nearby cried out for wings, while another girl called for cheese covered nachos. A cheer went up, a few girls singing a bright song. Something about a birthday?

On her left was the new girl, her brown hair dipping as she spun to look at each new plate that was passed under her nose. Welrod noticed then that there were other foods being served. 

Chicken covered in deep colored sauce, a plate of nothing but heavily salted fries. A burger passed by that had an egg cooked on top and Welrod’s eyes grew to twice the size of her appetite. She began reaching for it, but it was snatched away by another fatty’s hand. She wasn’t too disappointed, her attention snapped to the fresh plate piled onto her empties.

It had been too long since she’d been properly indulged. By the time she was finished, she hardly noticed Miller scooping her off of the chair, too busy gasping for air through the bloated tension of her stuffed belly. She sagged onto the couch with a strained grunt and a bubbling “Oohhh,” blinking tiredly, comforted by the warmth of her meal.

Someone passed her a bowl of popcorn and, in a drunken haze of unyielding gluttony, she sank a hand in and brought it up to her hungry lips.