Filling out the Frontline Chapter 1: 707 Alpha Echalon (Revamped!) (Patreon)

Spas-12 was considered by most of Griffin personnel to be quite a hefty girl. Her navy-blue shirt strained at the buttons over her perky chest, while her pleated miniskirt exposed her smooth thighs, looking juicy where her matching blue stockings squished into them.

Spas’ ‘unique figure’ was caused by the curvaceous girl’s heavy appetite. Her doughy body bobbed from side to side while she tottered down the bright, lengthy halls in the Griffin Command post of Kemerovo, now known officially as Sector 11. She carried a small stack of boxes that was sending her always-hungry belly into an impotent frenzy.

In a similar way, her snow-colored hair bounced voluminously, braided into a pair of pigtails that bobbed past her shoulders. Shotgun shells adorned her uniform in a variety of unsuspecting places while she deftly carried the weapon that was her namesake laid across her arms, beneath the stack of boxes.

Her stomach whined and she felt a higher pitch emanate from her mouth. “Oooh, it’s no fair…” her ruby eyes fell to the boxes she carried. “Why does the Commander have me bringing him doughnuts?” she mumbled to herself. She’d rather be at ballistics training than be taunted like this…

Spas did not enjoy being shot, but she enjoyed playing errand girl far less. She was so focused on her task, and even more intently upon the smell of the doughnuts, that she hadn’t noticed that floor seven seemed completely deserted. Indeed, when she finally arrived at Office #707 and pushed open the door, it didn’t register that there was no Griffin staff manning the six empty desks. She whimpered like a puppy over the delicious treats she’d never have while approaching the interior office door, sworn to uphold her delivery duty and yet plagued with temptation her to just reach in and take a few doughnuts for herself.

She collected herself and knocked thrice on the door with a heavy heart. “Spas-12! Here for…” she swallowed, trying to get the misery out of her voice, “d-delivery…”

Spas’ tummy grumbled in tune with her sadness, only then turning away from her packages. The empty air of the room rushed into her senses, making her scarlet eyes widen. Was this place empty?

Spas was starting to think she might have entered the wrong office before her thoughts were pierced by a very loud, very shrill, “KYYYAAAAHHH!!!”

Spas nearly dropped her doughnuts, which she had instinctively relabeled as hersby this point. The loud scream had been unmistakably female, piercing through the thick interior door and, Spas realized, all of the closed blinds. ‘Commander Winters’, was inscribed boldly across the shaded window.

Her red eyes shifted nervously. No T-doll was permitted to enter a Staff Office without being cleared, but there had to be exceptions… right? Ohhh, she really should have committed that manual to memory like she was supposed to…

She fretted back and forth, about to put the doughnuts down and run for Miss Kalina when the albino girl was further surprised by a woman’s voice bidding, “Come in!”

Spas swallowed. She steadied her doughnuts before briefly struggling with the doorknob, twisting the silver handle and thrusting it open with a soft hip check. Darkness spilled forth from the office like a suffocating miasma, a stark comparison to the brightly lit exterior, and made the worried girl feel almost as if she’d gone blind.

Spas wasn’t built for night missions. She could hardly navigate a dimly lit dormitory… though, as her eyes tried to adjust, Spas thought she could feel the atmosphere of the room. Tendrils that slowly circled around her exposed thighs, tying itself around her stomach, and tugging her by the waist as if to pull her inside. She could only see a faint glow coming from inside the room, then another, and she finally discerned the red uniform and matching beret of a Griffin Commander.

Instantly, Spas felt herself begin to relax. Commander Winters was sitting at his desk, illuminated from darkness by his soft lamplight.

“Oh good, Spas,” said the same female voice. It took Spas a moment to place the accent, and her memory jumped into place. Commander Winters’ adjunct was…

“Mosin-Nagant?” Spas asked, squinting into the dim room. “Is that you?”

“Of course it is me,” came Mosin’s voice. “Now come in and close the door before you blind RFB.”

“I-is RFB hurt?” she asked. Her programming bade her forward, the protector’s nature taking over, and Spas did as she was ordered. She entered into darkness before catching the door with her heel and swinging it shut behind her.

As true darkness smothered her sight, Spas’ eyes fluttered. Her low-light compensators were slow to kick in, brightening her scarlet irises to emit a soft red glow that reached all of three inches. From somewhere to her left she thought she heard someone else whisper, “Stupid Oxide…”

“Only her pride,” chuckled Mosin from so close that Spas nearly hopped out of her runners. “Here, allow me to help you with those.”

Something moved in the darkness. Something huge, as round as a boulder and three times the size, Spas felt almost as if she were about to be crushed as the shadow formed into an orange sweater, and a pure white jacket.

Spas would have dropped her doughy delivery had a pair of doughy arms not reached and caught them from the bottom. “Whoop! I got them,” giggled the pale doughball that the arms were attached to.

Spas’ eyes fluttered. An electronic brightness turned the red even bright, coloring her cheeks and overlaying her sight. A fat blonde woman with an immense double chin laughed cheerfully, the boxes of doughnuts tilted down between the gap where her belly became her fat chest. Huge arms, arms packed with pound after pound of jiggling meat, bounced with her tummy as she took the doughnuts from Spas and then stepped back.

“M-Mosin??”

She looked almost round, with smooth pale shoulders and a non-existent neck, but Mosin’s body swelled out into a dramatic curve at her chest, breasts as large as her jovial face, then at her belly that seemed as smooth as a globe. Her fluff-packed coat was hanging open, allowing the vast stripes of her sweater to show stretched lines, and making the woman look even larger with her moonlit pale skin peeking out from beneath the hem.

The glow was fading from Spas as her eyes adjusted to what her mind could not. While the illusion of the rolling boulder was fading, Mosin still appeared larger than life. Something her easy but assured voice only enhanced. “You sound surprised,” Mosin tittered. “I can’t say I blame you. I saw my reflection in a mirror the other day, and I quite surprised myself.”

She brushed a hand through her long blonde hair, and Spas realized she wasn’t wearing her usual white ushanka. She was far beyond plump, even far beyond fat. Her chest stretched her top as her arm went wide, coming back to rest just above a huge love handle. Then Spas saw Mosin’s hips as she shifted her weight. Wide, long, tight black stockings tried their best to cover her thighs, but the pale skin beneath had stretched them well-passed sheer.

“What… happened?” Spas asked, unable to take her eyes off of the girl’s apple-shapped stomach.

There was a low rumble from Mosin’s tummy as she inhaled a deep whiff of the boxes of doughnuts. “Later,” she waved away Spas’ question. “Go and sit with the Commander and finish your paperwork. And hurry about it, okay? We’re starving.”

“We?” Spas asked.

“Would you stop asking questions?” came a fresh voice.

Spas turned to see another immense girl, shaped like an hourglass with ten years of sand. Round breasts pinched by a tight white top, which might have looked battle-worn with how many buttons were missing. Bright violet eyes glared daggers at Spas from beneath waves of deep chocolate-colored hair.

The violet eyes and brown hair were immediately recognizable, but Spas nearly lost her voice as the girl raised herself up. A TV flickered to life behind her, casting the woman into a fat silhouette as her belly lifted into view. It was smaller than her chest, but almost entirely exposed, and there was rumbling growl that came from the overweight bear.

“We’ve waiting on you all dang day!” the girl crossed her arms around her chest. “You better not have stolen any for yourself!”

“G-grizzly?!” she stammered.

“Of course, it’s me. Now hurry up!” the girl shot back. “Are you’re gonna make us wait even more?!”

“Would you pipe down?!” came a third voice. The TV exploded into static before the screen was replaced by a colorful picture and a cheery tune. Another girl, another pale eclipse, rose up from behind the couch.

This girl was wearing even less than the others, rolling white hills of fleshy round thighs, hips that were almost as big as the TV, the girl plodded forward on bare piggy feet that stomped like she were trying to punch the tile. RFB was panting, her wide stomach swelling and sagging with each breath. The fattest pear in all of Russia, hundreds of pounds sagging out from a miniscule dress.

“Your fat ass already made me lose once!” she pointed a hand that held a game controller at Grizzly. “If you mess up my wires again, I’m confiscating your share!”

“Y-you wouldn’t!” Grizzly bounced back, facing the other so Spas saw each girl in profile. Their bellies sagged, heavy and round, and both girls had butt shelves that looked big enough for her to sit on. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast!”

“It is Breakfast, you two,” Mosin interjected. RFB turned and began cleaning off a table between the couch and the TV, dumping handfuls of empty junk food containers onto the ground and giving Mosin a spot for the doughnuts. As she grew closer to the TV, Spas could see the dark line of panties through Mosin’s stockings, which then gave the impression that RFB might be wearing none at all.

Spas felt as if she were about to fall over. Something was wrong, horribly, terribly, completely wrong. But there was no danger, no sense of urgency. There were snack cakes, chips, a bag of cheese puffs, and now three boxes of doughnuts. Then Spas realized the three pairs of eyes, turning to face her as she’d begun to stutter without knowing what she was even trying to say. As if her mind had just struck against glass.

“Y-you are all so… so fat!” Spas declared.

“Spas-12.”

The voice had come softly, but it commanded her attention. It demanded her obedience, and demanded formality. Spas automatically straightened, felt her eyes locking straight ahead. She was an elite T-doll of Griffin & Kryuger, and the voice reminded Spas that she had a job to do.

“Come, have a seat,” bade Commander Winters.

She turned automatically, marching forward towards the Commander’s desk before even seeing the chair that he offered. But even as she did, Spas heard the others speak, and she felt that internal pressure in her mind once again.

“You hear that?” Grizzly poked into RFB’s belly. “She thinks you’re fat!”

RFB batted away at Grizzly’s sausage-shaped finger. “She was talking about Marshmallow-Nougat, obviously,” RFB playfully taunted the blonde whale with a wink.

“Oi, oi. I’ll confiscate both of your shares if you make me,” Mosin broke in. “I need something sweet to put up with you sourpusses.”

“She’ll do it, too. You can tell because she’s the fat one.” Grizzly teased, and all three girls broken into jiggling laughs.

By the time Spas reached her chair, she couldn’t not stare at the other three girls. Instinct was screaming at her, an internal fury at herself for not paying the Commander every once of attention, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to watch, gawking openly gawking as the obese dolls taunted one another.

RFB snapped open a can, a noise like a gunshot inside of Spas’ confused head, though the sight of soda nearly made her mouth water. She could even taste the soda, despite barely even seeing the can. Her tongue felt the peppery sweetness of a spicy pop, the name of which Spas could never remember.

“Alright, come on,” Mosin sagged onto the couch. “You’ve fixed your TV, now do you think you can beat the race this time?” She leaned forward, past RFB’s hips, and snagged herself a big bag of fat-looking marshmallows.

“Absolutely!” RFB’s eyes glimmered with an emerald splash, her fat fingers crushing the now empty can before she retrieved her controllers. “I would bet my life on it!”

“How about your dinner?” Grizzly asked.

RFB’s hands quickly began fretting. “N-now, let’s not go too far…”

Mosin’s laugh quivered the couch, snorting like a pig through her mouthful of fluff. The springs screamed when RFB sank next to her on her plump backside. On the TV, the camera began following a strange, orange-skinned animal girl, sitting inside of a colorful racing kart.

With Spas’ sight fully adjusted to the lighting of the room, the sense of overwhelming darkness was gone. Not diminished or lessened, it was completely replaced. In the light of the lamp and of the TV, the room wasn’t dark. It was intimate, cozy, and just a touch warm. A comfortable glow, the light-hearted T-dolls poking fun at one another with wide smiles and good grace.

It didn’t make sense though. This couldn’t be happening, it felt almost as if Spas were walking through a half-realized dream, still asleep in her bed in the underground dorms. Soon, someone would shake her awake, telling her that they were being dispatched to-

“Spas?” the Commander bade.

Spas snapped back to attention, ignoring the heightened music from the resumed game and the low sound of eating from Marshmallow-Nougat. Spas blinked.

Mosin-Nagant was staring at… no, her eyes were watching Spas, but it wasn’t her face.

Commander Winters sat on the other side of his desk, watching Spas with his bright blue eyes. Their color was an exact match for Mosin, but the Commander had a much different face.

“Yes, Commander?” Spas asked.

The Commander reached up to his head, slowly removing his red beret. It unnerved Spas for some reason, but she wasn’t sure why. It was like seeing him in his underwear… a Commander was never supposed to be out of uniform.

His hair was brown, short on the sides but a bit longer up top. A white hand passed over his head, brushing the hair back and towards his left side. He had a severe brow, knitting towards the center, and looked like the face of a man who didn’t smile too much. That part made sense, almost none of the Commanders seemed to smile anymore…

Spas blinked. Again, she felt some sort of pressure. It made her feel almost dizzy, and she leaned forward to rest a hand on his desk.

“Spas-12?” she heard, and the question sounded soft, but she felt herself rise to sit upright.

“Yes, Commander?” she asked again, the words coming as easily as if they’d been already prepared.

Commander Winters nodded. He sat forward, knitting his fingers together before carefully saying, “Good morning, Spas.”

“Good morning, Commander.”

He leaned back, sliding forward in his seat. “Good morning, Spas,” he repeated.

“Good… morning, Commander…?” Spas had already felt off-balance, but something about this was putting her on her backfoot. She felt herself looking nervously to the other girls again, her nose picking up the scent of the doughnuts. They hadn’t started eating any, but one box sat open on top of the stack. She turned back to the Commander. “I completed your request… for delivery.”

Commander Winters stroked his chin. “Yes, I’ll have to thank Miss Kalina for getting them for us. But that was their request,” he dismissed, gesturing towards the girls on the couch. “Did Kalina tell you what else you’d be doing here?”

Spas blinked at him before slowly shaking her head. She didn’t think Kalina had mentioned anything… but compelled to be truthful, she reluctantly informed, “I-I might have been… distracted… by the doughnuts…”

Then, for some reason, Commander Winters smiled, and Spas completely forgot her earlier assessment. The smile looked as natural on her face as the embers of blue that glowed in his eyes.

“Spas-12,” he informed sitting up straight, and Spas mimed him. “I have recently put in for a transfer of position concerning your duties.”

Spas felt her eyebrow close in confusion. She was being transferred? Was she in trouble, did she do something wrong? With a mind of its own her mouth responded, “Acknowledgement of transfer order. Will I be sent to another outpost?”

Winters shook his head. “No, you will be remaining at Kemerovo, but from today moving forwards, you have been promoted to 707 Alpha Echelon, and will to be reporting directly to me.”

Spas’ eyes went wide. Something failed inside of her. Again, and again, something always failed inside Spas. “A-Alpha Echelon?” she swallowed, feeling completely unsure. “B-but I’m nowhere good enough to lead a…section…” she shook her head, wondering if she misunderstood or messed up again. “C-Commander, am I being promoted to a combat unit?”

There was a conspiratorial shuffle of deep, husky laughter from the obesity couch. The Commander’s smile was unchanged, easy, and Spas felt herself fixing on that. She was making the Commander… n-no, her Commander, smile. The tension in her back was slowly releasing, the smell of doughnuts growing stronger until Spas could feel her tummy squelch in hunger.

“I’m afraid that this promotion means quite the opposite,” Winters shook his head. “You’ll be joining Grizzly Mark Five, RFB, and Mosin…”

“Marshmallow~!” Mosin-Nagant sang in a light interruption.

He continued as if she didn’t speak “… Nagant with their daily duties, reporting to official section leader Mosin-Nagant for responsibilities. You’ll be acting as a secondary adjunct.”

A secondary… no, that can’t be correct. Commanders only had one adjunct, right? But the Commander wouldn’t be smiling, and he looked so sure. Spas thought she might have heard something about her old squad mate, FNC, being promoted…

There was a laugh from the couch. Spas looked away from the Commander, seeing RFB hopping up and down, her dress flipping up over her butt and showing that she was indeed wearing underwear.

Spas blinked. What was she thinking about?

She’d just been promoted.

Gosh, those doughnuts smelled so good…

She turned back to. “Why me…” then, almost as if she’d forgotten she added, “Commander?”

“Are you seriously asking that?” Grizzly called over. “Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. I bet 505-Alpha doesn’t have to put up with waiting.”

505-Alpha… That was what FNC said, wasn’t it?

She heard Mosin responding. “You hush, Grizzly Mark Five. I’ll not be compared to UMP45’s leadership, nor her planet-sized ass.”

UMP…45? There wasn’t…

Commander Winters was talking, cutting through Spas’ confusion like a searchlight. She focused on his blue eyes. “You are an exemplary unit, Spas,” he was saying. “I think you’ll fit in quite well with the group, and I’ve many duties to attend to that I simply cannot handle on my own.”

B-but he had… three other…

Spas’ stomach growled louder.

“We’re fighting a war for humanity, aren’t we, Spas?”

There was a dull thunk inside of her head as Spas felt the familiar comfort. They were at war. It was their job to defend humanity. Spas was a good defender. She could protect others. “Y-yes,” she replied. “Loosed arrows.”

Winters paused. She felt as if she’d said something wrong, but he quickly regained himself. “Well, a war needs more than just boots on the ground. Here, we coordinate active operations for 707’s Combat Echelons. Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo.” He listed the four other groups off on his fingers. “We also handle anything from combat reports to ordering logistic operations, which is important during the Summer season.”

The Commander tapped on his desk and something strange happened. A section of the wood coloring faded, showing that much of it was actually glass. A bracket listing 707 Company Control showed over tabs labeled Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo. He tapped on Echo, changing the display to the first person view of a T-doll labeled ‘Echo-01, Super-Shorty’.

Four other camera views were listed beneath, but the main view showed the perspective of an extremely short girl trying to stack a box labeled ‘Rations’ atop of a stack of crates that was a head taller than her.

“Most of the Summer…” Commander Winters paused, looking down on the feed, then closed his eyes before looking up at Spas. “Would you give me just a moment?” he asked.

Spas’ scarlet eyes fluttered.

Winters tapped an icon on his desk. “Echo-3, would you please help Echo-1? She’s having trouble stacking supplies for the food hall.”

A moment passed before the desk responded, “Copy, Commander!”

Winters sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Where was I…?” he asked.

“You mentioned Summer…” Spas replied, watching as a very tall blonde women wearing a puffy red beret entered the view of Echo-1’s camera.

“Ah, yes. Most of the Summer is spent…” he turned back down to the desk as Echo-1 tugged the box away from the other girl. The blonde woman stood more than a foot higher than the first doll’s perspective, her hands on her hips as she spoke down to her. “For the love of…” Commander Winters tapped a volume icon.

“I AM NOT SHORT!” the short camera screamed, dropping the crate and launching herself towards the taller T-doll. The blonde girl grappled the perspective out of the air, twisting her around to land on her back.

Commander Winters closed the video feed and put his face in his hands as Mosin waddled over to his shoulder, snorting into a belly-jiggling laugh. “Most of the Summer is spent doing logistical control,” she explained to Spas. “A lot of our forces help out the cities, repairing the walls and stockpiling food. It’s been a quiet year so far, without many large engagements, so we’re helping Kemerovo expand back into some reclaimed territory, and holding things together before Sangvis Ferrei makes their next move.”

Spas swallowed. It’d been two months since she’d seen real combat, but she knew the enemy that they faced was more than a threat. Rippers, Vespids, Jaegers… and those were only machines. Machines controlled by the evil Ringleaders. Horrible dolls, killers and murderers, who were trying to destroy all of humanity, starting with Russia and her Soviet satellites.

The hostile AIs from Sangvis Ferrei would see them all dead. It was the duty of every doll to defend their home, and that started here at Griffin and Kryuger.

“Griffin is the blood that helps the cities run,” Mosin smiled, knitting her hands around her tummy. “And we Alpha dolls help direct all our members. Some of the most important decisions are made in this office.”

“Like ‘how many doughnuts can Grizzly eat?’” came a hungry voice from the couch. “Let’s find out!” A loud slap was followed by an even louder, “YOWCH!”

“Oh no you don’t,” RFB yipped. “You are not starting until they’re over here, and I am done with this race!!”

They…

Spas was going to get a doughnut…

As if to confirm, she looked up to Miss Mosin. The woman smiled down to her, and Spas thought that something about her weight just looked so fitting. Her fat cheeks, her rolled chin, and the weight that bounced as she nodded, yes.

Spas was trying not to drool as she asked the Commander. “D-daily duties?” Doughnut. “Umm-” Doughnut.  “-what would-” Vanilla. “-be my-” Chocolate. “-daily-” Doughnut. “-duties?”

The Commander cracked his hands. “You’ll be working as Assistant Adjunct during a rotating 8 hour shifts with the other girls. Yours will be from 0800 until 1600, working directly beneath Mosin’s watch.” Spas glanced back to the woman.

Mosin lifted a hand in a wave, looking as round and as tasty as a glazed doughnut.

Spas waved back before realizing the Commander was still talking, and that she’d stopped listening as she tried to figure out why she had thought of the word ‘tasty.’

“-staying in here to help assist me in any necessary ways. If coordination is light and direction is simple, you’re welcome to join the others in doing whatever it is that they choose to do.”

Then, conspiratorially, the Commander winked at her.

Spas couldn’t understand what was happening anymore, nor did she really care. She was getting promoted and, not only that, but she was going to get another breakfast!

“RFB has been playing a lot of kart racing games,” Mosin said, “and you’re more than welcome to play along.”

“You better be good, though!” RFB called from her spot near the TV. “Cause I’m the best!”

“You can’t be the best if you can’t beat the Commander,” Grizzly replied.

“Shut up!!!” RFB whined. “It’s a fluke, he’s cheating!!”

The Commander smirked. He tapped another spot on his desk, turning the screen back into a wood topping before taking a paper and turning it around to Spas. “It’s a low stress environment, though I cannot stress just how important the position is. To me, as well as to morale.” He offered a pen with a patient smile. “All we need is your official signature.”

Spas took the document and scanned her eyes over it. So many words. Transfer. Exploration to Alpha. 707, Commander Winters, Marshmallow-Nougat. “C-can we get… any food?” she asked. The taste of meat was so strong in her mouth, of bacon and beef that was slathered in cheese.

“Anything,” the Commander nodded.

“And as much as you want,” the marshmallow goliath assured.

A smile returned to his face, an unhidden glance glancing towards Mosin’s hanging stomach. “You’re also welcome to stay in the office during your non-working hours. The other girls have grown fond of sleeping here on the couch, and entertaining one another between working shifts. We had a bed, but… well, we’ve had to replace some furnishings due to… over-use.”

A sound came from the couch. It sounded like a fat girl having her stomach slapped.

“Kalina has helped with ordering more. We’ll be having four reinforced beds delivered by next week.”

Spas caught her eyes looking back over Mosin. Not into her face, but around the blonde’s body. Then she turned, saw RFB’s butt wiggling back and forth as the girl softly chanted, “Go, go, go, go!” and saw Grizzly’s violet eyes as the brunette watched her.

The violet vanished as Grizzly dipped her head forward, a pair of sunglasses falling to cover her sight, and the big woman flashed her an even bigger grin while Grizzly teasingly lifted a huge chocolate doughnut.

Spas’ nostrils were billowing as she spun back to face the Commander.

Winters perked an eyebrow. “Spas? Is there something wrong?” he asked.

Spas snatched the pen and, for the first time in her life, she felt herself shout at a human. “How could you not invite me sooner!?” she demanded, her lips tugged into a Mosin-sized pout. “Free food!!” She felt crazed as she scribbled ‘Spas-12’ on the line. “I should have gotten more than just doughnuts!”

The Commander chuckled. “I had thought you might enjoy that concept. You don’t even seem to notice that you’d given Mosin your weapon.”

Spas nearly leapt from her chair. Every alarm in her head sparked at the same time, legitimate warnings snapped from her combat module as the woman realized her empty her hands. She spun, white hair whipping around to see that her shotgun was sitting openly against the table.

“Spas-12,” Commander Winters’ voice grabbed her before she could dash off, “you’re not to worry about your weapon.”

Spas’ heart was thundering inside of her chest, but her stomach rumbled and distracted her mind. Commander Winters had given her a direct order. She listened.

“You will not need it here. It will be placed in the arms locker,” he tapped a locker behind his chair which was mostly hidden behind the lardy Mosin, “for safe keeping.” He nodded sagely. “Now, after your first team building exercise, it will be almost time for lunch, yes?” he asked.

Spas had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded all the same as her tummy quivered so loud that she could almost feel her slight pudge jiggle.

“We can take care of your weapon after that.”

At the mention of exercise, Grizzly made a noise like a strangled lama.

“Team building exercise,” Mosin snorted. “Don’t worry, lazy bear. You won’t have to do push-ups again. Or, in your case, try to do more than two.”

“You didn’t even try to do one!” Grizzly shouted but Mosin just beamed.

Spas looked back over to them. “What are you having for… second? Breakfast? Lunch??” she her head tilting back and forth like a confused puppy who didn’t understand just how much food she was about to be fed.

The Commander gestured towards his chest “I, am having a salad,” he said. “The girls have elected to… err, what was it, Mosin?”

Mosin tilted, her stomach folding into a full love handle as she brightly said, “We’re getting pizza! They should be here within the next hour.”

“Ahh… I’ll need to get them myself, then,” Winters commented, patting his pocket.

Mosin stood up straight, wobbling forward and around the desk. “Spas, you like meat lovers, right?”

Spas did not even try to hide the drool this time. “B-bacon and ham, right?”

Mosin enthusiastically nodded. “Naturally!”

The Commander took the document from Spas and checked a few spots before placing it into a file. He closed the folder with a well-relieved sigh. “Go along, now. It will be a bit… cramped on the couch, but it’ll be upgraded next week. A new one is coming along with the sleeping area.”

Spas did so, guided by the touch of Mosin-Nagant. The blubber-packed blonde wasn’t much taller than Spas, but everything about her just seemed so much more massive. The quiver from her belly, the stretch of her sweater, and she felt so warm… tender… juicy…

She rounded the couch to a cheer from RFB and applause from Grizzly, still holding an unbitten doughnut. “Welcome to Alpha Echelon,” Mosin bade, guiding Spas to a spot next to RFB before taking the corner seat for herself.  There was little space between the packed butterballs, giving Spas an equal feeling against of warmth and softness between them.

RFB’s ass smothered more than a full couch cushion, her thighs almost monstrous next to Spas’ small pudge. Pale skin formed divots and dimples, fat overflowing the large woman’s knees, while on her right Mosin’s tummy filled out her entire lap.

The large girl’s eyes had a vacant expression on her pudgy face, staring like a fat-covered potato at the colorful screen. She held her the dual stick controllers to either side of her exposed belly, the shirt rolled up to her relatively modest breasts.

Then was her belly button, squeezed into a horizontal pinch, and looked like it’d form an extra fat-roll if the woman would stand. She looked tightly packed, so much tummy squeezed onto a short-girl frame, and then a few hundred pounds of foundation forming doughy back-rolls and a wiggling buttcheeks.

Her tongue flicked out in concentration, her elbows tucked into her love handles, and RFB began quickly bouncing. Spas noticed the others were watching the screen while she couldn’t help but turn back to RFB, the nearly-nude woman sending ever pound cascading as she chanted, “Go! Go! GO GO!! Yes!!!” she belted, lifting both of her arms and making Spas yelp, needing to brace against the girl’s hip as she was sucked into her sugar-packed gravity. “Screw you, Oxide!!”

There were a pair of light claps from a pair of much louder, grumbling tummies as RFB wiggled happily. “Finally,” Grizzly grunted. “Can we eat now?”

“Yes,” Mosin declared. Spas snapped to the open box of doughnuts as the woman leaned forward.

Vanilla glaze with sprinkles, chocolate frosting, and more than a few seemed packed with either custard or jelly. Spas felt the hunger of the group overlapping her own, each of her companions fixed upon the pastries. Mosin’s chubby arms quivered fat while she retrieved a doughnut from the box and passed it to Spas.

“Let’s get you caught up.”

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

“How is she?” the Commander asked when Mosin trundled over to him with a spare paper plate and Spas’ shotgun. Upon the plate was a lone slice of bacon, chicken, and ham pizza.

It wasn’t hot, but it was at least warm.

“Spas?” Mosin asked. She opened a drawer to his right, plucked out a key, and went to the weapon locker. It clicked open, revealing an AR, a handgun, and a scoped rifle hanging on the back racks. She placed the shotgun alongside her sisters.  “She’s stuffed silly and sleeping. Wrapped around Kelly, too. Already picked a new favorite pillow.”

The Commander smirked. He looked tired, but the touch of enjoyment made him look only a few years older than his youthful twenty-seven years. “I hadn’t expected that so soon.”

Mosin shifted her weight onto her right leg, glancing back to the couch. “Yes you did,” she knowingly snorted. “You saw right through her, didn’t you?”

The Commander said nothing, though he now wore a look that Mosin recognized.

Her weight swung forwards when she placed a meaty fist over the corner of his desk, leaning over him. Her large belly pooched down and pressed onto his lap. “Commander,” she whispered, “I am not Helianthus. I am not Kryuger.”

It was subtle, only a knuckle-crack, but Mosin saw him tighten at the names of G&K’s highest command. His expression didn’t change, nor did he look up from the couch, but Mosin saw the flames in Winters’ blue eyes flicker.

It made her feel the slight pressure of worry. Instinctively, Mosin lifted her finger to his chin, guiding his sight to her matching blue eyes, and the Arctic fire that connected them burned all the brighter.

“John,” she whispered.

Commander Winters’ hand found hers. It was warm and delicate, but both could remember the snow and the cold.

“I am bonded to you,” Mosin said softly. Their fingers intertwined now, each felt the matching pressure of the other’s silver ring. “I belong to you,” she continued, “and you belong to me.”

Grizz was watching them. Mosin couldn’t see her, but she could feel the violet eyes on her overfed figure. The little bear was still new, relatively, to her freedom, but Mosin knew that she craved something like this. To have someone that was hers, and for her to be theirs.

Mosin leaned down, kissing her John lovingly on his dry lips. She guided his hand to her stomach, forcing him to feel her greatness and weight.

When she stood back she was smiling, and the warmth of her flame heated the office like a lit fireplace as she chuckled.

“What’s funny?” he asked with an entertained smirk.

Mosin’s laugh was huskily deepened by the fat of her waistline, making her sound so breathy and big. “I imagine Kryuger will have received your report on Commander Bellows.” She gestured to his seat and said, “He’s probably sitting in his chair reading it now, and will then proceed to read Samuel’s report on you.”

John followed her gesture, his smirk growing sharper.

“45 has been bouncing ideas off of me… when she isn’t too busy stuffing her face. She told me how Samuel’s report listed I could do seventy-seven pushups.” Her arms wrapped around her wide belly, bouncing herself playfully. “I wonder if that was your suggestion.”

He looked quite proud. “It was Commander Cheng’s, actually. He thought it’d fit for an elite sniper.”

The hunter knew when to press forward. She stepped closer, the curve of her stomach filling every inch of his lap. Her weight almost entirely eclipsed him in shadow, and she was delighted to feel his hand inching up beneath her stretched sweater.

Mosin let her voice dribble with her heavyweight purr, wanting to feel her lover against her bare skin. She wanted to smother him in-between her round breasts, to crush him with the weight of her body and squeeze him between her thighs.

Marshmallow was hungry, and she wanted so desperately to be fed till she was full.

Soon. Not today, but soon, her appetite demanded she be satiated.

“And now, Spas is here. Expanding,” she purposefully paused, “our personal staff.” She raised the hand upon which she wore her ring to his cheek. In a sultry voice, “Another member to join our swelling conspiracy.”

John’s lips tightened, though he was still smiling. “You’ve been talking to Miller too much.”

“The Winters Conspiracy,” Mosin replied with a wink. If she leaned anymore forward, the marshmallow woman would have fallen over. “It has a good name.”

“Hardly subtle…” he replied.

“Try being 45 and having Bellows, who thinks ordering seventy-five pounds of M&Ms is subtle,” Mosin touched him upon the nose and lifted herself away. “Now, make sure you eat,” she ordered, sliding the plate closer to him. “You would not want to anger your Marshmallow-Nougat, would you?”

Mosin’s face lifted with a matronly glow before she turned away. She went slow, making sure every pound showed. A rolling waddle of delicious white cream, with extra-large hips wiggling her extra-large ass, the obese woman sauntered back to the couch.

Spas was lightly snoring, as was RFB. The two were intertwined in a sisterly hug with RFB holding an arm around Spas, who rest upon her buttery belly. Grizzly was breathing heavily, exhausted merely by her eager appetite, with her stocky legs resting atop of the table. She looked up to Mosin. “We don’t have to get up, do we?” she asked in a hush.

Mosin shook her head. “No, let them sleep.” She retrieved RFB’s controllers and moved over towards the television, adjusting the volume to low before selecting another application. Maybe some music, or some other game. That diner one was fun, even if it did make her hungry…

Then, she reconsidered. The Commander cared for them and enabled their freedoms, but Marshmallow knew it was her place to make sure her sisters remained soft and happy. She offered the controllers to Grizzly. “Anything you have in mind?”

Grizzly took the controllers and scrolled through a few shorts lists before selecting an animated movie called ‘Child of Thorns’, which looked like a romance. The soft bear laid the controllers atop of her stretched shirt, resting them in the valley that was her cleavage, while Mosin sagged back onto the couch.

Spas stirred in her sleep, tightening her hand round RFB’s belly. “Mhmm, bacon… burger…” she whispered before tussling her hair against the large girl and falling back asleep.

Mosin felt her tummy rouse. Desire lightly squelched from her gut, the realization that she could opt for a burger right now. She’d have to proposition the Commander to get them for their dinner… Big angus burgers, with double patties, and a thick layer of cheese.

He wouldn’t mind. Winters was used to the extra effort it took to satisfy the taste of his fat Marshmallow.