Maple's Story Part 9 (Patreon)

“Come on Maple, you’re going to have to suck it in.”

The sound of groaning springs and creaking metal supports echoed throughout the small bedroom.

“I AM sucking it in!”

Beyond the creaking, groaning, and the occasional grunt, the panting huff and puff of Maple’s taxed lungs could be subtly discerned.

“Maybe you should have skipped breakfast.”

A blush spilled like red ink across fluffy cheeks large enough to comfortably hold grapefruit in them.

“Y-you’re the one who fab’d all those waffles! If you didn’t want me to eat them, maybe you shouldn’t have brought them to me.”

Gears whirred and growled as mechanical arms struggled with Maple’s duratex suit. The Scutlers desperately trying to cram the oversized vixen into the only article of clothing on the entire ship that had a chance of fitting her. They’d managed to get her feet into the suit’s legs, if she could see over the massive swell of her stomach or her basketball sized breasts she’d see her chubby toes wriggling through the leg-holes, but that seemed to be the extent of the Scutler’s accomplishment.

“Oh,” Came Syn’s reply as Maple felt a renewed tugging from the Scutlers trying to pull the high-tech fabric up her thighs. “So if I were to fab another six course meal and have it brought to your quarters, you would have no choice but to eat it?” The vixen squirmed, detecting perhaps a hint of mischief in her AI’s tone. “Lift your legs higher.” Maple grunted, feeling the blubber of her thighs compressed as the smart-suit was slowly pulled up her legs. She struggled to lift her legsonly to feel her gut push them back down again, her muscles quickly tiring from the effort of holding up that much blubber.

“L-let’s not set a dangerous precedent.” Came Maple’s reply, hesitant though it was. The realisation that Syn could feel Maple’s innermost wants, her deep and perverted desires, and that she did not seem to disapprove? It was liberating in a way. She no longer had to deny to herself what she wanted, even if it was still a little weird and embarrassing. Syn appeared to support her, even help her towards these strangely pleasurable goals. When the chemicals had been handed over and her job was complete, did she even /want/ to remove the collar?

Maple’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar little bump on her side. Soft though it was, it was enough to send her entire body jiggling until she pressed her sausage-like fingers into the jello balloon of her gut. Not moments later she detected the delightful scent of freshly baked pastries. A platter of croissants, danishes and eclairs had appeared at her side, held up within reach by a dutiful little Scutler-bot. “That’s a shame.” Syn’s voice echoed in her head. “Because I already had these cooked up. I suppose I shall have to dispose of them.”

The vixen’s chubby digits clamped around the tray before the Scutler even had time to move. “N-no.. it’s okay, it would be bad to waste all this food.” Her stomach gurgled its agreement in a dull, loud tone. The pastries towered high enough that they rivaled the of her great stomach, which inflated and deflated with her heavy breaths. Once she’d made sure that the robot would stay still, she reached out and grabbed one of the delicious treats (ignoring the way that the simple motion made the ‘wings’ of her arm flab jiggle and sway) and stuffed it hungrily into her mouth. She knew she wasn’t /really/ hungry, she’d eaten less than half an hour ago, and boy had she eaten a lot. Syn knew that she wouldn’t ever turn down food though, it was just too delicious. Too satisfying to see the way her gut puffed up just that little bit more above her, pressing her into the bed like the warmest, cuddliest boulder to ever exist. “So Syn,” She said around a mouthful of danish. “What do you get out of this? You know… bringing me so much food. Even when I tell you not to.” The last was added with a bit of a smirk, she really wasn’t in a place to be reprimanding her AI when it was she who could not control even the simplest of urges. Her chocolate smeared jowls would attest to that if the great mass of her body hadn’t already.

“My purpose is to serve.” It was the same predictable response Maple had gotten every time the vixen had ever asked about Syn’s motives, the factory programmed response for all of its AI. But she knew there was something deeper than that. The Scutlers had now managed to pull her suit up to her pants and were groaning and whirring as they tried to knead her massive beanbag ass cheeks into the fabric.

“Yeah,” Maple replied, stifling a belch with one paw as the other reached for a handful of eclairs, the delicious cream filled treats dripping onto her wobbling gut during their transit from the tray to her mouth. “But you always preached moderation before.” She continued around a mouthful of thick, chewy pastry. “Why the sudden -urp- change of heart? Why /now/ do you decide to encourage me to in-” Her jaws parted and another, louder belch rattled through her mouth and set her mountain of a stomach wobbling again. “To indulge.” She finished with a little blush.

Her AI considered its position with a pause in the conversation to be filled with the tugging of the scuttlers and the sounds of Maple gorging herself on the bed. Eventually, after Maple felt she’d added perhaps another foot to the size of her gut (and started to worry that it might actually touch the ceiling some time soon), Syn gave her response: “Because it never tasted so good before.”

Maple paused in her eating, swallowing a lump of half-chewed pastry and cream. Now it all made sense. A LOT of sense. Syn was integrated so closely with Maple’s brain that the AI felt everything she did. Not just the feelings that she could use to make diagnostic decisions like pain, nausea, hunger and thirst, but /everything/. Pleasure, gratification, desire and need.

“Before you wore the collar everything was bland and neither of us knew what it meant to experience /real/ pleasure. Now with every bite, every nibble and even the barest scent of food, I can feel your brain light up with pleasure. Anticipation. Sensations we never knew were possible.” The AI continued, Maple could feel the nudge of the pastry bearing tray against her bloated side. She saw herself reaching for another pastry before she realised what she was doing, the taste of it on her tongue erasing all her doubts in a wave of satisfied bliss. This was why Syn always fab’d so much food, why she always seemed to ‘encourage’ Maple, even when she was making fun of the large vixen. In a very literal sense Syn seemed to ‘feel’ what Maple was feeling. When Maple was happy, Syn was happy. The extent to which the AI was in sync with her own feelings of pleasure wasn’t too surprising, true AI had been around for centuries (albeit they were for the most part banned from production or under heavy scrutiny). It felt very possible that her own AI had grown to the point where it began to exhibit motivations of its own beyond serving and protecting Maple. As her stomach sloshed and churned the rich food she was pushing into it, Maple felt glad that Syn’s motivations matched up with her own.

“What if I get too big?” Maple found herself asking, her chocolate stained paws sinking into the rising hill of blubber that blocked out all view of anything in front of her and promised it would be a long, long time before she saw her feet again outside of a mirror.

“Are you worried about your health or your mobility?”

The bloated hill of a vixen thought about it for a moment. “Both?”

“True to the scientist’s word the collar appears to have caused little in the way of adverse health effects. In fact the nanobots have strengthened your circulatory and nervous systems, as well as having improved the durability and function of many of your major organs, including your skin. If you continue to wear the collar or else find some other kind of comparable treatment, you will likely survive well past the average age of expiry for your species.” Syn’s words were some comfort as Maple found herself leaning back towards the platter of pastries, pushing a danish into her salivating mouth. “Mobility is a separate issue, though the strain on your respiratory system and heart are superficial, aside from ensuring your body’s continued and healthy functionality your muscles remain without augmentation. The man who designed this device intended for you to pant and huff, Maple.” Mission accomplished, the vixen thought wryly. Since she crested 600lb of blubber she’d done little else beside panting, huffing and eating. “That said,” The AI continued, “I have made arrangements for part of the funds of this job to be spent on a set of hover panels. Once our business on Scylla is complete we will fit you with the panels in such a way that your blubbery body will not impede your mobility. A more seamless design of cybernetic implant is available but not within our budget at the moment.”

Maple could feel her cheeks colouring. Hover panels? Had it really come to having to suspend her copious amounts of fat with the aid of magnetic devices? True it would be incredibly easy, the panels would work anywhere there was a large enough supply of metal, space stations and her ship prime examples of such areas. But as far as Maple could see it didn’t solve any problems, if anything she would be more mortified for others to know that it had gotten to such a point where she couldn’t even move her fat ass without the aid of expensive technology. A nervous belch pushed its way between her pudgy lips.

“W-what about my reputation?” She asked. It was the last matter of importance, without a reputation a porter was nothing, reduced to doing the jobs that nobody else wanted to do, working for years on The Rim and barely making enough to get by. Sure she had never enjoyed a good standing with the rest of the porters, her propensity for taking jobs that straddled the borders between legal and illegal made sure of that, but she couldn’t imagine having to work her way in a world where her name had less value than mud. When she landed on Scylla she would become just that, a joke.

“Already taken care of.” Syn replied casually, a new window sliding up on Maple’s eye-feed. She felt herself connect to the exchange and felt the AI clearing away a tidal wave of spam and advertisements until a picture emerged from the haze as clear as day.

Meet the Babe of Blubber, Maple, the Big Beautiful Vixen!

For the low price of 35 creds per month you too can join us on her road from sylvette and sexy to huge and hungry! Price includes holovids and Personal Experience Entertainment Packs!

Maple’s stomach dropped. Depending on who you spoke to PEEPs were either a masterpiece or the lowest of the low in the entertainment industry, allowing you to experience the exact sights, scents and sensations that a person was undergoing at that moment in time. The viewers of this site would see the interior of The Kit, struggle with their thoughts on their expanding waistlines, turn themselves into fluffy water balloons in the shower and more.

“H-how could you do this?!” The vixen asked, pushing away from the plate as even the pastries started to taste like ash in her mouth. “This is a HUGE violation in privacy.”

“Odd.” Syn replied, her voice appearing in Maple’s mind without a second’s hesitation. “I received no warning protocols advising that I ask your permission. Perhaps that is because this week alone we have raised more than 12000 creds.”

Maple swallowed her anger and her humiliation. That… that was a lot of creds. It was very nearly half of what she would earn on completion of this job.

“The strange combination of science and pleasure have become an instant hit among those who wish to experience how it feels to be as fat as you, without having to live with the consequences. For privacy of course all PEEPs have been censored accordingly, it’s doubtful that there will be any negative feedback to your reputation. When you leave the ship on Scylla in a few hours time you will show the exchange and the porter’s network that you’re a fat, lonely vixen. Nothing more.”

The vixen swallowed again, finding herself reaching for another pastry. It made sense, she supposed. The porter’s network wouldn’t uncover the connection between her and the PEEP show. Ballooning over the course of a week to roughly half a ton of weight would cause a hit to her rep with the network of course, but the income she made from the show would more than mitigate any actual damage to her wallet this might cause. In fact, she would probably walk away making a profit. Well, waddle away, at least.

“A few hours?” She asked, her voice suddenly dry. “Well you’d better hurry up and get this suit on.” Maple replied, going for another eclair. The Scutler’s groaned and resumed tugging it across the fluffy mound of her massive gut.

“It would be easier if you stopped eating.” Came Syn’s reply, but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

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(note from the author here, sorry for the lateness of the post. IRL bit me in the butt. Regular schedule should resume next week <3)