Filling Out the Sideline: Memories of Nobody (Patreon)

The weight of his world sat in his lap.

It wasn’t heavy. Not even a little, despite what remarks she might make of herself. For Bellows, 45 was as light as the fluff she was filled with.

She wiggled slightly upon her generous bottom. It’d been some time since she passed two hundred pounds. He knew she was holding her appetite back, trying to keep herself in check after seeing just how quickly Mosin became a foodie blimp. Given how much she enjoyed taunting Mosin’s butterball curves, it seemed she was making a special effort to not end up on the same side of a cattle scale.

UMP45 was fat. Till he’d signed on with Winters, Samuel Bellows might have thought a girl her size was morbidly obese. But the most morbid thing about 45 was her brattitude, and her appetite for indulgences.

She had amber colored eyes, with a long scar over her left eye, and the face of a playful feline. Pure white skin highlighted her long, mousy brown hair, usually kept in a side ponytail. A cute little muffin that he had been hard pressed to think was anything less than royalty, much less not even human.

Unlike his friend, Bellows accepted their lack of humanity. It wasn’t a detriment, as far as he was concerned his species was the failures that got the world into the state that it was. It simply was a fact of life, and 45 was filled with as much life as she was chocolate.

He tightened his hands around her waist, turning her slightly in his lap before leaning back in his chair. He was glad that he’d invested in a heavy duty roller, considering Bellows was not exactly a small man himself. He wondered if 45 intended to catch up to his weight, or if she would temper her appetite by working out.

The heinous thought of her exercising seemed to infect her by proximity, with the snoozing doll’s mouth opening to shudder out a tiny, tired moan. She tightened her pudgy fists around his collar, tucking her head into chest and nuzzling it.

Bellows leaned down and kissed her scalp. He brushed his fingers through her hair, eliciting a gracious smile on her soft lips. His other hand traveled down and the smile grew wider when he lifted her white shirt and allowed her tummy to plop over her skirt.

With strong fingers, Bellows laid his touch over her full middle. She was so very soft. A bit squishy, with her underlying feasting packed into a tight spot beneath. He targeted that spot, circling it before tucking his two middle fingers in to rub it out.

Her belly whined pleasantly, digestion gracious for his help, and another quiet moan passed her breath.

He wondered what he should make for her when she finally woke up. Each of the girls had indulged themselves proper during last night’s party, with Suomi needing her sisters' to help her just get downstairs. Much to 45’s devilish delight...

Pancakes might be nice, something a bit fluffier, but he had a taste for waffles. Then again, there was a recipe that he’d been meaning to feed to her. He’d even already gathered the M&Ms he would need, melting the candies and drizzling them onto her plate. Her face would light up, and then he’d serve her a helping of whipped cream and strawberries, and then just watch her eat it all up.

45 was a loud eater. She’d make her appreciations known through hungry grumbles and joyful noms before pressing up for a pout that he wasn’t already working on her seconds.

A heat was bubbling inside of Bellows as he pictured 45’s hunger. The girl knew about his developed tastes, and took great joy in awakening more. A round soft belly, a warm cuddly body, 45 was the perfect pillow to lay down with, and then not go to sleep.

The girl was bottom heavy in the way that a bumblebee was. More weight than she knew what to do with had settled in her butt cheeks and thighs, and when she walked it was more like a graceful waddle.

An elite T-doll. Leader of her own squad, of her own company really, and someone who’d had countless successful missions under her belt. That was who she’d been. And now, 45 had outgrown that belt by half-a-dozen sizes, becoming his tubby, spoiled princess.

If he had his way, she’d never have to touch another gun. For the rest of their lives, she’d live being fed and cuddled each and every day, perched right here in her space on his lap.

After what they had done to her, she deserved this rest. This spoiling, this softness. 45 deserved to be happy, and the matching rings they wore on their fingers demonstrated to the world Bellows’ commitment.

There was a noise from the nearby couch. A head of messy, long, bleach blonde hair wobbled up, followed by the tubby body of the small FNC. She wore only a large shirt, one of Bellows‘ own, that came down to her fluffy hips. With a tired stretch and a tiny yawn, the short doll plodded onto her piggy feet and muttered a soft “Baf room...” before meandering through the office door.

45 wasn’t heavy, but she was beginning to cut off the circulation in his legs. Bellows attempted to readjust, looking down into her sleeping face.

She was getting so big that, even huddled up to him like this, she looked like a round butterball. It was the smile, he decided. It had transformed her. She had become the girl that she was always meant to be.

He squeezed her, placing his lips to her forehead and just feeling her breath. Memories came back. Tired, exhausting memories.

He was sitting at home in a chair in his study. In his lap was his 45, clutching herself to hm, whispering her truth in the grieving voice of the one who survived.

She’d killed her sister. UMP40. Her mentor, her teacher, and someone who, according to every record Bellows could find, never existed at all.

“I never even knew her real name,” 45 had told him. The memory that filled his lap felt so much lighter now, but infinitely heavier with tear droplets staining her cheeks. When she talked, her voice quavered. “W-when we met...” she broke of, laughing slightly. “She actually teased me. I was just getting off the range. Couldn’t shoot for shit.”

“You can hardly shoot now.”

45’s chuckle was bitter, her nails poking into his exposed arms. “You shut up.” She paused, looking up at him. “You’d have liked her,” she whispered.

“Probably.”

She nodded, almost more to herself than to him. “Definitely.” Her eyes returned to that far away place. He let them, trusting in her strength. “She was always so... teasing. Like a big sister would be, I guess. We were both constructed with electronic warfare modules in place of fire control modules. She taught me almost everything.”

Bellows remembered the discomfort in his next question. “What happened?”

It was a long time before 45 found her words. “We were used. Sent into a Sangvis factory with an entire squadron of humans and T-dolls, and told we were supposed to be securing some VIP. 10 humans, 18 other dolls, and us. We were just there for electronic support.”

“And this was before Sangvis Ferrei turned?”

“Yeah...” she shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t even know that. Someone did. Or does. Whoever is covering the whole thing up.” She sniffed, wiping at her nose. The tears were gone now, as memory led her along. “I keep going over it. For years now. No insignia, no call names, no identities. They were even wearing street clothes.”

45 sighed, leaning deeper into his chest. He stroked her hair, just listening as her frustrations bubbled

“All I have is they were mostly men, and they were all Russian. Years of investigating, and all I have is what I remember noticing. Urban camouflage, Kalashnikovs... I was such an idiot,” she grumbled. “They weren’t even wearing uniforms. It was like... a terrorist cell. But how could we be sold to...” she took a deep breath, the heat flowing out from her anger.

“You’re not an idiot,” Bellows said. “At least, I don’t think you are.”

She looked up at him with a pout, tightening her first around his shirt. “I said was! Not is!”

“Oh,” he winced. “Well, uhh. I don’t think you were, either. Just... green.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “And now I’m black.”

“You’re pretty white. Unless you’re referring to what you did to my box of chocolates, that was pretty dark.”

“That was a one time thing! You can’t just buy my affections with sweets!!”

“It’s been working so far,” he chuckled.

45 pinched him before reaching up and nibbling at his neck. “You don’t get it. Chocolate’s yummy, okay?”

“I have had chocolate. It was my box,” he reminded her.

“Would you shut up?!” 45 wiggled, a a pink blush coloring her cheeks. “I’m trying to tell you something really emotional that’s haunted me for years, okay?”

“Would you like another chocolate bar?” he asked.

She paused before grumbling a tiny, “Yes,” but seemed to brighten when he opened his desk to reveal three. She took all of them, naturally. Even back then, showing signs of her eventual softness.

She chewed partway through the first bar before the heavy mood resettled over her, and she placed the unfinished half into his hands. He took a bite before leaning forward and resting his mouth against her forehead.

“We can stop.”

“No,” she denied. “I... need to. To tell you. Everything.”

“Okay.”

Another minute passed with the couple just sitting with one another before she returned. “We followed the humans into the factory. There were dead workers on the floor, and destroyed machinery. The other dolls seemed horrified. It was against our programming, but the squad we were with, they weren’t taking any prisoners. It was like they didn’t even need us there. They announced over the radio that they were moving into the command center to secure the package...”

She trailed off, sailing away on the coast of time. Bellows waited.

“40 hit me. Saved my life. Dropped me beneath one of the production belts just as the shooting began. From all around us, partially constructed dolls suddenly activated. Rippers, brutes, everything Sangvis had. Mechanical, spurring oil from unfinished systems. They didn’t make dolls like me.”

“There aren’t any dolls like you,” Bellows said, petting her hair. He’d meant for it to be praise.

“There was,” 45 whispered, and he felt his heart crack. “40 protected me. When I recovered, I hit the cover right next to her. Started returning fire. Didn’t even realize who else was shooting until a blonde T-doll collapsed right in front of me.”

“The other T-dolls?”

45 shifted. “Something happened. When the factory woke up, something inside of the others snapped. Suddenly, all of them had the same color of glowing red eyes, and they were shooting wildly. Without talking or anything. The humans were calling out over the radio, panicking as the others tore them apart. Only 40 and I seemed unaffected.”

She went quiet for a time. Bellows has to stop himself from asking if she wanted to stop again.

“It was like... I don’t know. One of those apocalypse movies. A girl with a Bolt Action rifle charged us rather than reloading. Like she couldn’t even think of the ammo she had on her belt. Probably the only reason we survived. The humans must have been caught off guard, but it was over in just two or three minutes. And we were soaked in Sangvis oil and A-doll blood. And that’s when I saw 40’s glowing red eyes.”

Bellows felt his own deep breath passing over her head. He placed his lips in a light kiss to her hair, just to remind her she was okay.

If it helped, he couldn’t be sure, because he could hear the tears bubbling again. “She... told me, that if one of us didn’t... then we’d both die. Tricked me into thinking she was going to try and kill me, so that I would have the...”

“45,” Bellows began.

She shook, taking a quivering breath. “No. No, Sam. I can do this. The strength. That’s what she wanted for me. When we were fighting, she wasn’t even paying attention. Used that time to record for me...” she shuffled, reaching into her jacket and withdrawing a small memory stick. “These. Audio files.”

“That... doesn’t sound right,” Bellows admitted. “She tricked you?”

“She used me. Like everyone uses dolls.” Her eyes glanced up to him before turning away. “Like I used dolls. So that she could die, rather than become corrupted by the virus.”

“By... Parapluie?”

“The Sangvis Virus,” 45 intoned. “Yes. Parapluie. It corrupts a doll’s systems, drawing on her will and transforming her into something else.”

“That seems really early. We didn’t see it in the field until... June. About a year back. That’s when the meetings started and the reports warning about it.”

45 shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else it could have been. Maybe a prototype...” she shook her head again. The quiver was gone, now leaving her sounding tired and worn out.

“Why weren’t you affected?”

A sigh followed, deep enough that it nearly swallowed Bellows whole. “I don’t have a fucking clue,” 45 admitted.

They sat with one another for a time in silence before Bellows reached for the half eaten chocolate bar.

“Hey,” 45 said, slowly raising her hand and placing it over his. “Mine.”

“I was getting it for you,” he breathed a laugh.

“Oh...” she withdrew her hand and accepted the bite that when he raised to her mouth, loudly chewing the mouthful before opening up for another.

He hadn’t fed her much before that. Only a bite or two of something off of his plate. But for the first time, he hand fed 45 bite after chewy bite, before she took his chocolate stained hand in both of hers and licked off his fingers.

He carried her to his bed that night. Like a princess that was as light as a feather, but as cuddly as a warm little kitten. He intended to sleep in the couch, but she’d insisted he spend the night with her, and then surprised him by turning up on her tiptoes and kissing his nose.

“Thank you,” she whispered, watching him with grateful amber eyes.

“For what?” he asked before shrugging. “I didn’t do anything special.”

That made her giggle. “No. You didn’t. You were just... you.”

“I usually am,” he chuckled.

She swayed, tilting back and forth on her feet. “And I think that you’re perfect.”

He snorted. “I am definitely not.”

“Perfect for me.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, but he couldn’t help smiling as she took his hands and pulled him down to his bed.

“Those memories…” she grinned, looking bittersweet. “They’re nobody’s memories. How could someone who doesn’t exist feel sad about someone else who never did?”

“45,” Bellows began.

She dipped up to him, poking him on the cheek with her nose. When she pulled back, her eyes had focused, and glinted like jewels in the intimate dark. “But I’m not nobody anymore, am I?” she grinned, guiding her hands to his chest. “I’m yours.”

Her fingers didn’t fumble, didn’t shake, when she unbuttoned his shirt. It was comfortable and sure, resolute. 45 always knew what she wanted.

The next morning flickered through his mind and Samuel Bellows knew exactly what he wanted to do.

He shifted his hands around 45’s wide bottom, leaning forward in the desk chair before lifting her up. He moves around his desk to the couch, where two other stuffed dolls dreamily slept.

Suomi, the largest girl in 505 Alpha, was like magnet for cuddles. She slept sitting up, hands resting on her round belly and ass sagging deep into the cushions, while USP was draped over her left thigh like she were a three hundred pound pillow. Bellows lowered 45 onto Suomi’s right leg, which 45 buried her cheek into instinctively before letting out a belly pooching puff.

He brushed her hair out of her face before kissing her cheek and rising away. He made for the door just as it opened and was filled by tubby FNC.

“Oh. G’morning Commander,” she smiled with a hushed voice.

“Good morning. How are the halls?”

“All clear. It’s the free day, remember?”

“I do. I’ve to run into town to pick up supplies for 707. You girls may have eaten them dry last night,” he winked as FNC blushed a bright pink.

“I-it’s not our fault!!” her small pitch heightened before she glanced back at the others and clamped a hand over her mouth. Then she turned to whisper “We eat out so much, when it’s home cooked it taste so much better!”

Bellows smirked, knowing the secret purchase and instillation of the day would already prove to be a good idea. Instead of telling her, he waved towards the door. “Alright, then. You can come and help me cook breakfast for the girls.”

FNC blinked, looking from him to the couch with undeniably lazy eyes. Then she puckered her lips, glancing down at her tummy and poking it. “Okay...” she whispered. “But I get to sample, right?”

“Of course,” he grinned. “We’ll be having waffles today. How’s that sound?”

There was a pause before FNC asked, “Is this the recipe you showed me, with the chocolate syrup?”

His grin was met by a very faint tummy growl from beneath her sleepy shirt.

“O-okay!” She was sounding more excited by the moment. “Let’s go! Are we heading for the kitchens?”

There was a light shuffle from the couch behind them. He turned to see Sumoi blinking before her smooth chin tucked in from a deep yawn, her hands drumming on her tummy. “Breakfast?” she asked.

“Baaacoon,” 45 grumbled, turning over and exposing her rear while her hair tumbled into a heap in the floor. “Bring me extra,” she demanded before nuzzling Suomi’s thigh and tucking into a ball.

Bellows chuckled. “We’ll be back in a bit. You girls get some more sleep.”

Suomi grinned softly. “Yes, Commander.” She yawned. “Happy birthday.”

45 reached up and thumped her companion on the boob. “Not yet! It’s not morning yet... Breakfast...”

“Oh. Sorry,” Suomi winced.

“Quiet, please,” mumbled USP from the other side.

“Don’t you order me...” 45 grumbled before immediately proceeding to be quiet and, likely, fall back asleep.

Bellows shook his head, chuckling deeply and merrily to himself before extending an arm to FNC, who giddily took it and was practically skipping as they made their way into the outer office, gathered up a small eight pound crate of M&M’s, and made their way to the kitchen.