Maple's Story Part 14 (Patreon)

Part 14

The minutes after the weasel left to find a console that Maple /hadn’t/ blocked access to with her own blubber were torturous. In a bid to distract herself from the discomforting sensation of her own swelling mass taking up more and more of the hallway, Maple turned her attention to AR and the local news feeds, hoping that she hadn’t made an appearance on any of them yet.

She was wrong.

Pictures of her waddling out of her ship and trying to squeeze into the transit hub were already being exchanged across the local net, accompanied with idle speculation and a good deal of jokes at her expense. Although, Maple considered, it would be hard to find a flattering picture of her at her size. The ones that seemed most popular were particularly UNflattering, showing off her broad ass as the poor dove tried to squeeze her into the transit pod. She was only glad that the security cams had been far enough away that they’d struggled to capture the sounds of her grunting and wheezing. As well as of course, the flatulent finale of that particular scene.

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable, both with her local image and the sensation of the walls starting to crush her, Maple was actually relieved when she got her first communications ping.

“I see you’ve gone and made a swell impression on the locals, Maple.” The badger’s voice was unmistakable, the scientist who had caused all of this, the madman who had designed the collar that was even now struggling to expand with her ballooning body.

“You!” She frothed at the mouth, her fingers too fat to clench into a fist. “I did it, I delivered your damn goods! You have to reverse all this!” Maple could hear the metal walls of the laboratory starting to groan.

“Reverse it? Whoever said I could do such a thing?” Came the badger’s measured response, though Maple could detect more than a hint of amusement in his voice.

“What? You’re telling me I’m going to be stuck like this?!” Maple felt her throat constrict with panic, or perhaps her body was finally running out of place to store fat and was starting to choke her.

“Heavens no, I’m sure any reasonable surgeon could get you down to about… half that size?”

“When I get my hands on you I’m going to-”

“I don’t think I’m in much danger, what are you going to do, sit on me?” The badger chortled. “Besides, from the looks of things if I don’t send the collar’s deactivation codes you’re about to have a… CRUSH on me…” Even without a video link, Maple could /feel/ the badger smiling in self assured smugness. She bit her lip.

“Please.” Maple started, the word stinging like bile in her throat. “Please, turn off the fucking collar.”

After a couple of moments of obvious contemplation, Maple heard a clicking sound and felt the buckle of the collar release. Immediately her neck flab pooled outwards another foot or two, the collar itself tumbling onto her swelling breasts as it shrank to its original size. The hill of a vixen held her breath and shut her eyes.

She stopped growing.

Maple couldn’t help but sigh with relief. Without the collar the nanos had deactivated, they weren’t turning the ball of nutrient paste inside her into fat anymore.

“This will be the last time we talk to one another for a while, Maple. Don’t try to find me, you won’t succeed.” Even though the badger had facilitated Maple’s transformation from a vixen into a blob, Maple couldn’t be angry at him. Not for this one, happy moment. With the collar off of her neck, she was too relieved to feel anything else. “As well as the 25,000 creds, which I’m sure you’ll find a way to spend quickly, I’m leaving you the collar as well as its control program. I’ve been monitoring your vital signs this week and I’m sure you’ll find some enjoyment from it.” As the program downloaded into Syn’s databank, Maple sighed and allowed herself to lean back into her own blubber. It was over. At long last, it was finally over.

- - -

Having come down from her relieved, blissful state by the time the cargo drones arrived, Maple was able to be suitably mortified at having to be lifted by the long-fingered steel prongs of the drones on both sides. Metal arms that would typically activate the magnetic clamps on the side of standard issue cargo containers instead were wedged beneath her mountainous ass cheeks and slid under her sweat soaked stomach. Their engines whirred and complained as they struggled to lift what must have been at least two tons of fox blubber. For her part, Maple blushed and tried to hide her face from the swarm of security cams that had gathered around to watch the show, a feat that would prove difficult when her face was larger than her paws could have hidden - even when they were mobile. She’d have helped of course, but found to her dismay that her feet had completely lost contact with the floor some time in the last fifteen minutes, suspending her entirely in her own, vast mass. Her head even brushed the ceiling of the labs as, laboriously, the drones began to push her down the hallway towards a special cargo lift that was used to bring heavy equipment to the labs.

The corridors of the labs had been cleared out to make room and, past her own wobbling cheeks, Maple could make out ‘hazard’ tape strung up between doorways to make sure that no unlucky bystander would be caught in front of her. That didn’t stop beings from pressing their faces against the glass windows that lined the hallways, dozens of eyes looking at her as she was slowly hovered past. Most looked at her with what seemed like polite curiosity, but barely concealed their disgust. Others were more obvious, sneering or even pointing and laughing. Some were better, seeming genuinely concerned. No matter what the expression, when her eyes met another’s, Maple’s cheeks burned red.

The half hour crawl to the cargo lift seemed to take days. Squirming inside of her own, blubbery body, Maple realised that by the time she saw the yellow and black painted walls of the lift slide open she was actually feeling hungry. How could that be? She had a mass of nutrient paste inside her stomach the size of a yoga ball and the collar had been neutralized. Would she always be this hungry?

Even with the added space of the special lift, Maple barely fit in. The cargo drones had to push and knead at her ass cheeks before the doors to the lift could close. With a dizzying rush of inertia, Maple suddenly felt herself moving through the station. She thanked her lucky stars again that the walls of the lift were fully opaque and nobody could see the two ton mass of lard that she was.

With her hands barely mobile, Maple would have to speak to access many of Syn’s commands, a prospect that was made difficult by the thick tire of blubber that was wedging her jaws closed.

“Syn,” She mumbled, her voice barely carrying above the thrum of the lift. “Connect me with Dr Lalique…” Even the simple act of trying to muster enough breath to talk was leaving her panting, a thin trickle of drool pulling somewhere between her chin and her neck blubber. She briefly entertained the possibility of drowning in her own saliva, but figured between the creases in her fat and evaporation it probably wouldn’t happen. Probably.

“What do you want?” It was hard to tell if she’d irritated René or if that was his usual talking voice.

“What’s,” She had to take a moment to pant. “What’s… going to happen to me?”

“Recognising that you have yet to finish your expansion, I have advised habitat authorities to relocate you to the docking bay, where you will be temporarily assigned a space next to your spaceship.”

Maple’s cheeks flushed even more. She wasn’t sure what was worse, being dumped into a loading bay for a spaceship, or the fact that any cam jockey with a remote control would be able to take pictures of the station’s latest attraction, the equivalent of a circus fat lady. “H-how long will I be there?” She mumbled, struggling to move her chin, fighting the thick ring of fat that pushed back against her mouth.

“Since this is an Imperial Sanctioned aerohab, you’re unlikely to be jettisoned. It would be my guess that some of the fuel pumps could be repurposed to feed you and remove potential waste byproducts. Although nutrient paste is practically free, the service will likely incur a daily charge.”

That sounded less than ideal. An image flashed before her of a vixen larger even than herself, hooked up to the industrial sized fuel hoses, her mouth suckling as they dispensed food and water, ever swelling her sloshing, wobbling stomach. Maple became acutely aware of just how much that made her quiver in bliss. She gulped. “T-that can’t be permanent though… I-I’ll run out of credits eventually… y-you can’t leave me like this!”

“How is this my problem?” René’s reply was uninterested.

With the realisation that he actually /could/ leave her as a small hill of bloated fat, Maple began to panic. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breaths came even shorter than before, leaving her gasping for air. “P-please…” She whimpered.

It seemed like minutes before René responded, minutes whilst she sat there on the edge of hyperventilating. Minutes before the weasel said: “Fine.”

In the relieved sigh that followed it felt like every bit of tension in her body ebbed away with the knowledge that a mind far greater than her own would turn its attention to her problems. With someone like Dr Lalique behind her, she could do anything.

“On one condition.”

Maple’s heart froze in her chest. “W-what..?”

“You allow me to use you as a test subject for the formula that I’m working on. I can promise you perfect, physical safety and in return I shall do whatever is within my power to reverse the damage you have inflicted upon yourself.”

What was she going to say? There wasn’t an alternative. Dumped on a loading bay suckling nutrient paste out of a fuel hose, she wasn’t going to be able to get to any sort of doctor and from what she’d heard René blew most medical professionals out of the water with what he knew. This was her best chance - her /only/ chance to live a life that came close to normal. As normal as normal got after something like this.

“Deal.”

- - -