Maple's Story Part 4 (Patreon)

Having ignored the way her chair groaned as she lowered herself slowly into it, Maple was pouring over the nav markers, tracing a fluffy (and unsightly chubby) digit across the flight lines that Syn had provided. She was once again in the cockpit, space sliding by on the other side of the thick, duraplast glass. It wasn't a very mentally stimulating task, but it must have had her so occupied she missed the arrival of the scuttlers, little robots that acted as Syn's hands and eyes aboard the ship. The next time she looked up a large platter was resting on a nearby console, steaming scrambled eggs nestled against savoury French toast and grease dripping bacon. Was Syn trying to give her a heart attack?! Maple frowned and tried to ignore the plate but every time she looked down she caught a whiff of the delicious aroma of freshly fab'd food. A little bit couldn't hurt, could it?

She reached out and grabbed the nearest slice of French toast, pushing a heap of scrambled egg onto it and shoving it hungrily in her mouth. She'd been dying to eat something for ages, her stomach was rumbling happily at its chance. The eggs were salted just the way she liked and the French toast had just the right combination of savoury and sweet to it. It was fluffy and delicious, could she have expected much else? In moments the slice was gone and she was licking her fingers hungrily, ignoring the way her drool spilled onto her breasts. Well… it would be a shame to waste the rest of the food - those fab cartridges aren't cheap after all. With her decision settled she pulled the platter onto her rapidly diminishing lap and started to finish it off, bacon following the slices of toast and spoonful's of eggs into her mouth.

Maple hadn't noticed just how much she was eating until the platter was empty and she registered a faint feeling of tightness around her middle. Of course it wasn't just the suit (which would expand along with her body) but her stomach! It rested over much of the platter now, the size of a small beach ball, packed with eggs, grease, bacon and lord knows how many potential pounds. She groaned and rubbed it, blushing as it sloshed, so malleable between her paws. The vixen had eaten both too much and not enough. How could she still be hungry looking like this? Worse still, another platter had appeared whilst she was eating, the long claw of a scuttler robot extending out to take the now empty one from her lap, sliding it out from beneath her stomach. She blushed, knowing Syn would be fully aware of how fat her host was becoming.

But Maple could say no, right? The collar stimulated hunger and prevented her stomach from rupturing like an overfilled waterballoon, but it didn't stimulate need. She didn't need the food, she just really wanted it. What harm could another rasher of bacon be? Leaning over and brushing the consoles with her gut, Maple pulled the next platter closer, resting it this time on her stomach as she started to push the heaps of scrambled eggs and toast towards her mouth. It felt so good to be eating again, to be filling her stomach. Something about that round, tautness that she felt was so stimulating. She blushed as her thighs rubbed together, the warmth in her increasing like she'd swallowed a tiny little sun along with one of the heaps of eggs. By the time she was done and the robot was taking away the tray, she didn't even argue with herself as it was replaced by a stack of pancakes, waffles and crepes piled high with cream. She just leaned forward and dipped her muzzle into the platter, gorging herself, scooping the delicious morsels closer with her paws. How could she not when nothing had ever felt this good? This real? This tightness was intoxicating, the hunger overwhelming. Her stomach pushed her thighs apart, taking up more and more space in front of her. No longer a basketball or a beachball, it could pass as a beanbag chair, large and churning yet still squishy to touch. Maple didn't notice it inflating with every bite she took, every gulp and hungry munch. She didn't notice as it pressed her breasts against her newly formed third chin or crept across the armrests of her chair and the consoles in front of her.

It wasn't until the fifth or so tray she'd finished that Maple even begin to feel satiated. She leaned back, groaning in both bliss and horror at what had become of her. By now her stomach was so big it was beginning to stress even the durability of her expensive suit although she couldn't tell if the distressed groans and creaking noises were coming from that or her own taut skin. She mustered up a belch and a sigh of relief as her stomach shrunk even just a little bit, her paws gently roaming across her too sensitive skin. What had she done to herself… how many months of work would it take to get rid of this weight? Another belch worked its way freely up her throat, only emphasising how disgusted Maple felt with herself.

For the first time since she bought it, she was glad that The Kit was a multi-species craft, built for bigger and bulkier creatures than foxes. Its consoles all perched on robotic arms that her stomach was gently pushing back, the exercise ball sized lard balloon was pressing across too many surfaces. She hoped after digestion things would be better but even if her gut was still this big, the chair and console arms were adjustable so it wouldn't be debilitating. Besides, Syn had access to everything in the ship, it could pilot if Maple couldn't. The vixen shuddered to think how big she'd be when she couldn't pilot the ship.

"Syn what have you done to me…"

After a moment of silence the A.I's response was confused, "Me? I brought you brunch."

Maple groaned. "Brunch? That was a ten course meal!"

"I didn't force you to eat it Maple, perhaps you should consider a diet or some more exercise."

The vixen groaned again, cradling her stomach and thanking her lucky stars that the chair she was perched in was comfortable and doubled as a bed. She leaned back in it and let her gut slosh noisily over her legs. "Exercise… gods damn it, how can I exercise like this?"

There was another pause and then, "Like I said Maple, I didn't force you to eat. It wouldn't hurt you to practice moderation. Are you a fox or a pig?" Maple's cheeks burned and she tried to look away from her swollen stomach but everywhere she looked she could still feel it, the weight of it pressing down upon her.

"Whatever… the nav markers are fine, I'm going to take a nap. Dim the lights."

As instructed, the lights of the cockpit dimmed until there was only the stars sliding slowly past outside. Maple rubbed at her stomach, worrying and sniffling until exhaustion and the tautness of her own gut pushed her into an uneasy sleep.

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