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Part 9:

With a dull thud and an intense and all encompassing shudder , the Jackal left another ship in its cosmic wake. Artemis felt the weight of days on her shoulders, unable to remember the last time she’d slept. A glance at her image from the security feeds confirmed that the bags under her eyes were as large as they felt.

As the Wayfarer vessel shrunk to a cluster of pixels on the ship’s viewscreens, Artemis felt the path ahead of her open up. She had a cargo hold full of strange mushrooms, a literal fortune if presented to the right buyer. On the other hand, those same mushrooms were prized by mysterious and powerful corporations who would no doubt be able to track down her ship, given time. The wolf’s head was buzzing with dozens of questions, and the answers that she’d gathered from the goose whom Demeter had bloated into a mountain only piqued her curiosity. Of all of those questions, she kept coming back to the nature of the mushrooms, and why preventing them from reaching Amanita Beta was so important. 

The thought of hard burning away from the system and its mysteries had tempted her, but Wayfarer was a large corporation, and this close to the Rim its agents were everywhere. There would be no respite for Artemis and her crew in retreat. The only way was forward, to Amanita Beta in the hope that someone there would know what was going on. 

Her body feeling like lead, she opened the door to her cabin. 

“Artemis,” Aava began, her matronly voice heavy with concern. 

The overweight rabbit frowned as Artemis looked up at her. She’d approached from the other end of the hallway, no doubt meaning to catch the wolf before she slept. 

“Aava,” Artemis replied, making a conscious effort to straighten her back and hold herself upright. Without the effort, her muscles might have turned to jello. “Can this wait until morning?” 

She found herself looking over the rabbit’s new curves. Aava had always been overweight, but recently she’d crossed the line straight to fat. Artemis had to wonder how Aava could carry so much blubber around with her. Surely it was uncomfortable and humiliating. 

As Artemis approached, Aava shrugged slightly, a gentle roll of her shoulders that sent her great stomach wobbling like pudding. 

“Maybe,” Avaa said, still frowning, “but I think this is bigger than you realise. I spoke to Texas and she said—”

“The wolf in the Wayfarer ship?” Artemis asked, blinking.

“It doesn’t matter how or why I know her Artemis, I trust what she said.” Aava’s frown reminded Artemis of her own mother, the sort of frown that came before a scolding or disappointed silence. “The mushrooms... we think they’re some kind of medical experiment. Texas said they were given a list of symptoms - signs to watch out for in people who came into contact with the fungi. Extreme bloating, growth, hunger and weight gain were all on the list. They’re not just mushrooms... they’re something else.” 

“Huh.” 

Artemis remembered the scent of them as she’d opened up the crate, the inexplicable urge to consume them. She suddenly found herself glad she hadn’t. 

“Yeah.” Aava folded her arms in front of her breasts and atop the swell of her stomach. “If they can affect the body like that, who knows what else they can do? Wayfarer wants them bad for some reason, and I’m guessing they’re not aiming to play pranks.” 

The wolf nodded, and doing so only made the weight on her shoulders only seem heavier. The implications of what was in her hull burned sluggishly through her mind, puzzle pieces she couldn’t fit together. Aava must’ve seen it on her face because she began to look sad. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” the rabbit said. “This can all be resolved later. You get some rest, darling.” 

She gave the wolf a soft pat on the shoulder, Artemis found herself glad for Aava’s unique brand of matronly familiarity. A comforting figure in this nightmare she found herself in.

“Yeah. Alright. See you in a bit.” Artemis leaned forward to take a step, then paused and glanced back to say, “Have Demeter run some scans on those shrooms, kay?” 

“No problem,”Aava said, nodding.

Artemis forced a smile before disappearing into the doorway of her room leaving Aava to stand, hands on her hips, looking after her. She lingered for a couple of moments, frowning, then she tutted to herself and turned on her heel, walking towards the galley. 

After putting some distance between herself and Artemis’s quarters, Aava asked, “Demeter, could you get me a direct line to Alex?” 

“Certainly, Aava.” 

- - - 

By the time Alexandra made it into the galley, Aava had already taken a seat upon one of its squat, metal stools. The metal squeaked beneath her, but if the rabbit noticed at all, she didn’t pay it any mind.

“What’s up?” Alexandra asked. 

The fluffy dragoness had stripped out of her combat armour, making it plainly visible that her body had enough time time to adjust to the chaotic influx of calories that her milkshake binge had left her with. Instead of the heaving, sloshing gut she’d sported during her incursion on the Wayfarer SRE, she had a chubby potbelly; a ring of blubber that was bigger than Artemis’ own chubby tummy, but nowhere near the size of the rabbit she was talking to. 

Aava had managed to squeeze into another bodysuit, but it did nothing to hide what had happened to her figure. The matronly rabbit didn’t seem to be remotely embarrassed about sporting a stomach that most people would sneer at. 

Very simply, Aava stated, “Artemis.”

The dragoness blinked and took a stool.

“It’s not that I blame her,” Aava began, “what with the derelict and then the Wayfarer ship, but doesn’t she seem a little stressed to you?” When Alex nodded, Aava continued. “And judgemental, too. It’s not like Artemis to judge others for what they want to eat.” 

“Or how much.” Alex added, her eyes trailing down Aava’s expanded body.

“Or how much,” Aava repeated. “Demeter has been a blessing, but Artemis hasn’t really experienced the AI like we have. All she sees is this.” Aava hefted a love handle, sending her blubber jiggling in ripples across her doughy body. “She’s concerned, I think.” 

Alexandra’s long, fur tipped tail began to sway behind her as she thought. “The AI is hardwired into her brain, I don’t think she’s going to try and take it out, or shut it down.” 

“No,” Aava conceded, and she began to smile. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t encourage her to see things from our—” She patted her stomach, a belch bubbling up in her throat. “Perspective.” 

Alexandra grinned. 

- - - 

As soon as her head hit the pillow, Artemis fell into a long, weary sleep. 

Her dreams were fitful and elusive. In one moment she stood upon the bow of an ancient wooden ship, its canvas sails billowing in the wind behind her. In the next, she dreamed she was a test subject, floating in a vat in some creepy laboratory that looked to be stripped right out of a horror movie. The dreams themselves were hazy and unclear, and Artemis remembered little about them as she awoke, her sheets tangled around her stomach and legs. She blinked groggily and yawned. The taste of sleep sat heavy on her tongue. Her mind felt as though it had been put through a press. 

“How—” the wolf’s voice croaked, and she swallowed. “How long did I sleep?” 

As always, Demeter’s voice was quick to respond, breaking through the fog in her mind. “Thirteen hours, fifty two minutes.”

Artemis groaned. No wonder she felt so groggy. Some small, awake, part of her was relieved though. If she hadn’t been woken up it meant that nothing had happened. No new threat lurked on the edge of the Jackal’s sensor net. For the first time in days it felt like she’d been given a chance to catch her breath. To relax. No derelicts. No pirates. 

Tugging at her sheets, she slowly unwrapped herself from her bedding, stretching her sore, aching muscles. Hit with a slight wave of B.O, she realised she could probably use a bath. 

“How’re the crew?” Artemis asked. 

“They are healthy,” Demeter replied. “Alexandra’s advanced metabolism has allowed her to process and shed some weight, returning to a more stable and functional level.” 

The silence that followed said everything Demeter didn’t. Aava had no such advances in her body, any weight the rabbit gained was going to stick to her like glue. Even considering this, Artemis found she didn’t mind. Aava was a medic and navigator first and foremost, she didn’t need to be as slender as Artemis, or as fit as Alex. Aside from professionalism or practicality, Artemis had a hard time thinking up reasons why Aava she shouldn’t enjoy herself. 

Taking time to properly stretch and work the life back into her muscles, Artemis pulled herself out of bed. “Run me a shower would you Dem?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around herself, warding off the sudden chill of room-temperature air. 

“Of course,” Demeter said, pausing for a moment. “Alexandra has prepared breakfast in the galley, would you like to take it here? I can have it ready for you by the time you’re out of the shower.” 

“Sure, sounds good,” Artemis replied, grabbing a towel and skipping off towards the bathroom. 

- - - 

By the time Artemis had hopped out of the shower and finished drying herself off with a mixture of toweling and hot air, ensuring that she was both dry and fluffed up as she slipped into some clean clothes, the scent of the feast that had gathered in her cabin was wafting its way into the bathroom. Her keen, canine senses picked up the subtle undertones of various meats, a delicate red wine sauce, stuffed mushrooms and melted cheeses. Pulling a shirt over her head, her stomach rumbled, grumpily informing her that it’d been over twenty four hours since the last proper meal she’d managed to have. Snack bars don’t count, of course.

The door slid open on her approach and stepping through, Artemis was shocked, but not entirely too surprised to see that her room had been almost converted into an all you can eat buffet. The desks and shelves that usually held books, paperwork and projects on had been cleared, her possessions for the most part having been moved to a corner to make room for the food; more food than she’d usually eat in a week. There were dishes of every shape, flavour and design, from the inherently greasy slabs of fabricated meat that oozed fat, to more subtle combinations like crumbed chicken and steamed vegetables (although, Artemis noted, that the latter had been drizzled in a fine cheese sauce). In the middle of it all was one of Demeter’s newly liberated cargo drones, putting on some finishing touches with some of its arms, the others making sure everything was in the right place, and accessible. 

“Demeter... I can’t eat all of this.” Artemis entered the room, looking around anxiously. She wondered if this was how her crewmates had ended up so big and, having seen the AI feeding someone in person, was a little concerned of just what else Demeter might be capable of. 

“Of course,” The AI replied, both from Artemis’ mind and the floating cargo drone that shared her room. “Alexandra was unsure of what you might enjoy, so she and Aava have prepared a selection.” Artemis couldn’t help but feel a little bit relieved. “They have assured me that they will be happy to... tend... to anything that remains uneaten.” 

With a nod, Artemis crossed over to her bed, cleared a space and sat down. Two of Demeter’s cool, metallic hands propped some cushions against her back. 

“You’re really pulling all the stops, huh?” the wolf asked, as she comfortably wriggled against the pillows. 

“It was Aava’s suggestion” Demeter explained. “The last few days have been difficult for you. With potentially two weeks before we arrive at Amanita Beta on account of stealth protocols, it was suggested that you could use some down time.” 

“I can’t argue there, pass me the chicken would you?” 

The scents alone were crawling beneath Artemis’ skin, electrifying the air with a powerful need. Her stomach clenched in a hunger that would soon be quelled. 

Almost everything was fabricated, Artemis knew. The fabricator was an ingenious part of everyday technology, an oven shaped appliance that could construct food from the base up, at a molecular level. It could print out ingredients or, if one were sufficiently advanced, entire meals. It was times like this, that Artemis was glad the crew had shelled out the extra money for a good fab-unit. With the right coder it looked to be capable of performing miracles.

The plate of chicken she was handed looked like any real chicken would. Perhaps even better. Beneath her fork and knife, the crumbed flesh cut easily, steaming in the cool cabin air. The chicken breast had been stuffed with cubed bacon and cheese, which oozed onto her plate as she sliced through it. The first mouthful of succulent meat was enough to make her moan. As Demeter watched, Artemis began to ignore the finer points of culinary dining, cutting off bigger and bigger mouthfuls. The cheese was sublime, a wonderful cheddar that complemented the savoury, smoky taste of the bacon and penetrated the chicken’s tender flesh. The crumb coating on the outside was crisp, but not flakey. It had a wonderfully crunchy texture that she couldn’t get enough of. 

A meal that should’ve taken half an hour to eat was demolished in minutes, leaving Artemis wiping her mouth and looking with a little bit of surprise at the now empty plate. Well, mostly empty. She picked at the greens, a few sticks of steamed asparagus that had been allowed to soak in the chicken’s juices and the spilled cheese, but they left her feeling... unsatisfied. Perhaps it was part of the predator in her, Artemis reasoned, as she put the now empty plate to the side. 

If she’d had a moment or two longer, Artemis might have realised her stomach was slightly distended, a crescent of fur peeking out from beneath her shirt. It was a good, large dish, and it was only natural that there was a little bloating. But as her hands fell to her chubby sides, Demeter set another dish in front of her. This one was also meat. A lot of meat. It looked as though an entire leg of lamb had been allowed to marinate before it was roasted and drizzled in gravy, with a side of creamy chive and onion mashed potato forming mounds around the edges. Artemis nearly drooled at the sight of it. 

A little too large for the average knife and fork, Demeter wordlessly handed Artemis a long sharp blade and the wolf began to cut great chunks of juicy, tender meat from the bone. She picked at the strips with her free hand, popping them into her mouth and delighting at the mixture of flavours, the subtle hints of various herbs and spices. All too soon strips of meat became great, juicy, grease dripping chunks which the wolf dipped into the gravy slathered mashed potato before stuffing into her mouth. She knew  it shouldn’t be possible that she could still be hungry after such a big meal. But she barely questioned it. The food was too good to turn down. Too good to stop eating. 

Chunk after chunk, the massive leg was reduced to a bone surrounded by fat and what little mashed potato was left. Artemis leaned back, almost exhausted by the ravenous, gluttonous display. Where once she’d had a chubby little stomach, barely a roll of blubber to squeeze into her clothes, now she sported a proper pot belly. The kind of bloated, rumbling stomach that rested on her thighs. She felt stuffed, a belch rumbling up her throat and spraying the top of her breasts with crumbs. Stuffed, but not... full. Before she had time to reflect on this, Demeter handed her another plate.

Ribs, slathered in sticky hot sauce, grease choked steak, and then pies stuffed so full of fruit they were fit to burst, thick with pastry and dolloped with heavy cream. No matter how much, or how fast Artemis ate, she barely seemed to feel sated. The pressure on her stomach increased, the furry little balloon of her gut creeping outwards across her lap. By the time she was done she looked like she’d swallowed an over inflated basketball, her fur spread thin over the food she’d consumed. She felt heavy. Stretched. A little pained. But not full. 

Wiping the cream from her lips, however, Artemis knew she’d eaten too much. As Demeter prodded her with a cream filled donut, the wolf waved her sluggishly away. 

“N-no... too much,” she groaned, clutching her stomach as it pushed her shirt up. 

She looked like a mess, but she felt worse. As though the slightest movement might make her hurl. And even worse than that was a sleepy fog that fell over her mind. Lying down in the bed felt like the most comfortable proposition imaginable and, as Demeter collected the remaining dishes (of which there were startlingly few), Artemis collapsed onto her side and drew her blankets around her burbling, sloshing tummy, groaning and rubbing it. She’d have lamented her lack of control, but she had neither the mental capacity nor the desire to remain conscious for a moment longer. Grumbling, bloated, and strangely relaxed, Artemis fell once more into a quiet, heavy sleep. 

Voting Options:

  !!!Important! This is EARLY ACCESS voting! The THREE most popular votes here will be put to FA and a general vote, for the final decision as to what happens in the story. Vote for your preference now, to make sure you see it as an option in the final post. This is your chance to shape the story in advance of its release to FA!  This option will be available for 48 hours! Remember to comment below to make use of your weighted votes!

Round 1: In the next chapter...  https://strawpoll.com/7c4e2b7 

A, Artemis struggles with her desires, fabricated meals are the touch of a button away, preparation may take seconds but their effects might last a lifetime. (weight gain, subtle feelings of humiliation) 6 votes (4 + 2 weighted)

B, There’s a malfunction with the fabrication unit, Aava’s been asked to take a look at it, but can she resist a bite to eat whilst she’s there? (weight gain, stuck) 11 votes (8 + 3 weighted) 

C, The mysterious crate of mushrooms may sound dangerous to anyone else, but to Aava can’t help but want to see what the fuss is all about. (weight gain, bloating, slight tf) 6 votes 

D, Alexandra’s been left with a taste for liquid inflation after her recent milkshake binge, but how far can she push it? (water inflation, big sloshy fluff dragon) 3 votes (2 + 1 weighted)

E, There’s a problem with the fabricator, how long before the crew realises that their food has been replaced with high calorie substitute? (all slight wg) 5 votes