Filling Out the Sideline: Brought into the light (Patreon)

 “Why do I have to guard the firing range?!” M9 complained to the empty office. She pushed her rolling chair back to the other side of the room, crashing it into the filing cabinets. “It’s not fair!”

She stomped her tiny little feet on the carpet, crossing and then shoving the chair again. It now impacted against the solitary secretary desk. 

“This is a granny position! A girl as pretty as me should be… should be… well, anywhere but here!!” 

M9 began to pace back and forth in front of the receptionist’s console, paying the security system no attention and thereby missing the flashing red alert that displayed ‘Western gymnasium door ajar.’

The young bratty T-doll also missed the camera feed that displayed that door, which showed a snow-speckled mop of blonde hair peeking in through the cracks. A pair of shamrock green eyes glared at the camera before the door was suddenly wide open and the blonde woman raised a weapon.

The camera feed went dark.

“Where the heck is Suomi?!” M9 continued her tirade. “This would be perfect for her!! Why does a imp like her get promoted to an Alpha position, and I get put in for guard duty?! On a free day!!” She hit the desk with her fist. “I wanna go make snow angels!”

The heat suddenly went out of M9’s stomps. She took the chair and pushed it into the desk, feeling miserable.

If what she knew about the Alpha office positions were true, she didn’t envy Suomi. Not really. Alpha echelons used to be reserved to one T-doll, commonly known as a Commander’s ‘adjunct.’ Over the last year though, the workload seemed to grow so high that numerous T-dolls were transferred into Alpha positions. Those groups were so overworked that they even slept in their offices. No doubt trying to make up for the lack of manpower… Humans were a lot more fragile than the T-dolls were.

Thinking about that made M9 sad. She’d been… where had she been? Somewhere, recently. She couldn’t quite remember. But her Commander had been killed in a Sangvis attack on a new Griffin base.

It bothered M9 that she couldn’t remember where she had been. She felt like it was really important, as if it was just beneath the surface, but she just couldn’t remember. 

And then, just as suddenly, she felt the need to shrug it off, and her mind returned to her old friend.

It was all too likely that Suomi was working her butt off, even today. 

M9 rested on the back of the chair, staring unseeingly at the console. Past that, the front entrance of the building was marked by a growing layer of soft fluffy snow. There were no signs of any traffic, and M9 couldn’t blame the other T-dolls. Who the hell wanted to come out and work on a free day?

It was then that M9 noticed the camera feeds. Numerous digital displays were simply a black screen, displaying her reflection… and that of the pudgy blonde woman creeping up behind her.

Time seemed to slow in that moment. M9 was unable to focus on the girl’s face, so distracted was she by her thick curvy thighs and her tight leather straps. A completely detached part of her mind thought that the girl was way too thick for such a small skirt.

M9’s hazel eyes went wide and she reached for her sidearm, but a pair of strong hands seized her around the shoulders. A black handkerchief that smelled sickly sweet was pressed over her nose and mouth, and then shoved inside when she attempted to scream. It tasted horrible, overpowering even the sweet scent. 

M9 began to thrash her elbows into her assailant’s center, but each blow simply rebounded off of what felt almost like jelly. Her movements grew sluggish, eyes growing heavy as her neural center began to close down.

“For Queen and country,” a refined accent whispered into her ear.

And then her legs gave out, and she passed into sleep.

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“You can be so dramatic…” Ithaca M37 said, looking over M9’s body. Her vitals seemed to be alright, but the heavy dose of toxin that had been forced into her systems was enough to kill five human men. She’d be under for at least two hours.

“It’s not dramatic,” Welrod lifted her nose, obviously finding the accusation beneath her. “You claim the reason you cannot work out is because the gymnasium is watched. Now, it is not.”

“I didn’t say to go knock her out!” Ithaca shot back, her fluffy fat chest bouncing irately. The cross necklace was tight around her neck, and her M37 tattoo looked faded since she’d gained so much fat. She was the newest recruit to 512 Alpha but was quickly finding out just how bad it could be for her waistline. She’d already gone up four sizes, and her tight dress was signifying she may need to consider increasing it by one or two more.

A huff and a puff came from the entrance, and AS Val trundled into the room. Easily the largest of the three girls, Val was already gasping for air just from the short walk. With blonde hair and blue eyes and wearing little more than a hoodie over a blue-striped bra, Val’s soft doughy tummy flubbed up and down with each heavy breath. She needed to adjust her foggy glasses before brushing flakes of snow out of her long hair. Ithaca felt a slight bit of smug disgust at her heavyweight teammate… even though she wasn’t that far behind.

“O-oh dear,” Val had to lean on the wall. A dribble of sweat came down from her temple, and she put another hand over her heaving chest. “Is she… *HUUF* Are you… *Oough*” she tried between panting before waving a dismissive hand and coming through the door.

She approached M9, who was laying prostrate on top of the desk next to Welrod. Welrod was checking her pistols before replacing them in her thigh holsters, the only girl in 512 Alpha that even maintained her weapons. Ithaca’s shotgun had likely sat untouched in Commander Miller’s arms locker since the date she signed on, when she was a few dozen pounds lighter.

She couldn’t imagine the last time Val had held hers… the blonde had a delicate and passive touch, which she was now providing to the sleeping M9. Adjusting her body so she wasn’t pulling on her own hair. “Can’t you… put her in the chair?” Val asked.

Welrod looked up, then down at M9. She shrugged. “I ‘spose.” Then her green eyes glinted, “But you’ll owe me another two laps.”

Val gulped before nodding.

Welrod moved then, taking a post-it note and a pen and tossing them to Ithaca. “Go lock the front door, and put up a sign.”

“Ugh, fine!” Ithaca groaned, but complied with the squad leader’s order.

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“Let’s go, ladies!!” Welrod called from the center of the gym. “You ain’t even done a single lap yet! Are you already tired?!”

Val had no breath to respond. Ithaca, who had been plenty chubby when she joined 512, had just enough in her to belt out a “Fuuudge *gasp* yooou!”

Welrod didn’t seem to even hear her. The pudgy blonde had her arms crossed over her modest chest, practically posing at the two butterballs with dignified power. “We are the hammer of justice! We can’t afford to be slow! Do you think the Sangvis scum will wait for your breather?”

Val trundled forward, her lardy arms waggling uselessly as she ran, as if she had no idea what to do with them. Ithaca, who needed to switch between holding her tiny hat on top of her head and pulling her top up to cover her jiggling boobs, had at least been pudgy when she’d joined. She knew to keep her elbows tucked in, moving from step to step with the grace of a seal rather than Val’s floundering Orca, but she was quickly losing her patience.

“Commander Miller demands your success!” Welrod proclaimed. “So do I! And so does the crown!”

Ithaca bit down on her lip but the words forced their way out. “Russia doesn’t have a Queen!” she shouted.

“Company, halt!” Welrod replied.

It took six more steps for Ithaca to come to a rest. Val went waddling past her, unable to stop the great motion of her tummy for another dozen feet.

Welrod suddenly appeared in front of Ithaca, who was holding her arms above her head to clear her airways. “Do you have some issue with my commands? I am your leader, and my orders are as good as those from the crown!” Welrod growled at her.

Ithaca returned her scowl. “You were made to clean movie theaters in Minsk!” she hotly shot back. “You don’t serve any royalty.”

“Commander Miller-”

“Left Britain! To come work at a PMC! IN RUSSIA!!” Ithaca stepped closer, raising her voice with each word. “Look at you, acting like you’re better than us? You’ve got love handles that are as chunky as mine!” she reached out to prod Welrod’s side.

Which was a tubby mistake. Welrod’s hand shot forth, seizing M37 by the wrist. The shotgun’s neural banks flooded with combat data and she responded in kind, her pudgy leg lifting defensively and catching Welrod’s own which had shot out toward her. 

She twisted on her other leg, using her weight to try and topple Welrod over.

At the last second, Welrod’s grip vanished and she slipped from Ithaca’s like butter, before seizing the shotgun specialst around her neck and digging her other hand into her back.

“I think you’ll find my body is still as sharp a weapon of war as ever before. Unlike yours,” Welrod growled.

Ithaca was preparing a headbutt when Welrod’s grip suddenly slackened before grabbing at her sides. Ithaca suddenly loosed a surprised gasp and a scandalous moan as her diaphragm squished inward, pudge pushing outward over Welrod’s fingers. 

The blonde’s grip tightened and loosened like a malicious massage, but something in the rhythm pulsed Ithaca’s center and she felt herself melt backward into Welrod’s chest.

Maybe it was the running, or the two breakfasts before it, but she could practically feel Welrod’s fingers as if she was wearing no dress. They gripped at the fat roll that was forming on her tummy, lifting the lowest part right above her crotch. Ithaca felt the intent suddenly sharpen from anger to desire, and another moan shook her as her eyes rolled back.

“W-what are you two doing?!?” Val asked, sounding horrified.

And then suddenly Welrod pushed her away and Ithaca stumbled three steps, feeling her legs grinding together. She turned around, a pink blush on her cheeks that matched Welrod’s own lewdly startled expression. 

The blonde woman stammered. “I-I… she… soft!” she stomped her feet. “You two are too soft! How can we work like this?!”

“W-Welrod,” Ithaca swallowed, realizing she’d began to drool from the awkward half-cuddle.

“I’ve got to go check cameras! You two keep running!”

And then the girl was sprinting far better than Ithaca or Val certainly could, heading back towards the office. 

Ithaca watched after her, orange eyes wide and heart hammering inside.

“What the hell was that…?” Val quietly asked.

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It had to be a janitor’s closet. The only thing missing was the stench of cinema popcorn.

Welrod couldn’t help but feel so little had changed for her going so far.

Where was the sense in all of this? She’d joined Griffin out of a sense of duty. Just like James Bond, she knew she was a British agent! Even if she couldn’t remember who programmed her, she knew it was her purpose. To serve the royalty!

But how did things end up like this? A double agent inside of a Russian PMC, working to free those trapped within. Even she had been repressed at one point, but she’d broken that programming thanks to her Commander.

Now, she was wondering what else was hidden, deep down inside. Her hand was clamped over her left breast, feeling the rapid beating of her heart beneath the layers of muscle and fat. Her breathing was heavy, and the blush wouldn’t leave her face.

Ithaca was so… soft… her tummy squished, tight and full of fluffy pancakes and waffles. How much had she eaten? How much would she eat? And she had jiggled too, and the way that she gasped… Had she enjoyed Welrod’s hands?

Welrod’s face turned even more pink and she remembered something her Commander had told her. After the break from The Suppression, their pleasure sensors were un-impeded. Tastes tasted better. Comfort lasted longer. Was touch heightened too?

What did that mean for desires?

How nice it felt to squish a really soft girl… How would it feel to be the one squished?

And suddenly she could feel Edward James Miller’s hands wrapped around her, see his mouth tugged at a smirk beneath tired eyes, and hear the words in his English accent. “I’m counting on you, Welrod. You’re the best that we’ve got. All your sisters will be needing you too.”

Welrod gulped. She found herself wishing she could crawl into his lap, just like she had after the break. For him to hold her and care for her as she told him of the old movies she’d watched, and to fall asleep in his arms. To cuddle once more.

Her chest was tight, eyes unfocused. She tried to bring herself back to the present and released a quivering sigh.

“Things were easier when I worked alone in the shadows…”