Bitch Boot Camp(Soma to Sarge Tg) (Patreon)

"That's all you had in you you lil shit?!"

Soma was utterly humiliated, his dish destroyed in a matter of moments as the shocks of Sarge's cooking deflated his cake and overly mixed his own ingredients. All of her showy techniques were double disguised, not only leading to a delicious dish, but utterly wrecking her opponent's prep.

"That's not fair! You're not allowed to-"

"Cheat?! Ugh you stupid fucking light side chefs whining about fairness when you get to set the rules. I didn't even cheat you stupid fuck, I just used everything at my disposal. If you had paid attention you'd have adjusted your cooking. And to think, a chef that wanted to take on Asahi when he can't even go toe to toe with an underling. Come with me you stupid shit I've got to teach you a lesson!"

"Um actually I'm just gonna go back and train some HYEK!"

Sarge's Chainsaw Cooking knife was right at his throat.

"Didn't you say you were betting all your pride as a chef on this? You think I'd just let you go skipping away after all that bullshit you were saying?! How about a trip through the dark side scum!"

With a small squeeze of the handle she snagged his apron in her chainsaw, dragging him with her as the judges looked on in confusion.

"Um, Sarge your match will be in a few days and you need to still fill out-"

"I'LL BE THERE! NOW SHUT UP!"

And with that Soma Yukihira was abducted into the dark chef's mobile headquarters and thrown into Sarge's zone filled with weapons, scarred from past cooking and in the middle of it all was an incongruously perfect cake with icy blue frosting and magenta cream dollops.

"I hope you're still hungry bitch, I've got a special treat to give you."

"Actually I'm kind of fu- MMPH MMPH!"

Rather than hear any of his pitiful excuses, Sarge shoved his face into the cake, enjoying his squirms as he tried to push himself up, only to end up chewing a few bites of the concoction anyways. Sarge pulled him up and immediately slammed his jaw shut, the sudden pressure making him swallow instinctually.

"And the fireworks should start in 3, 2, 1-"

"GAAAAAAH!"

Soma looked like he had just been detonated, jumping up a solid foot in the air as his body writhed, the taste of the cake detonating all across his body. Sarge could see it all through her kinetic vision though, smiling as his shock widened eyes bled to a pale pink, a sound like a sapling breaking in the wind accompanying his spine's violent press inside as his first sign of the curves to come.

When he landed back down, Sarge was pretty sure something broke, the chair she quickly slid under him not exactly soft, but he barely seemed dazed by it. His eyes were glazed harder than her special frosting and his tongue was desperately circling the rims of his lips, trying to lick up as much as he could while Sarge just laughed.

"Ohhh oh s-so goood. I n-need-"

"Moooore? I thought you were full? Does the boring light chef want another taste of the dark that bad?"

He moaned in response, shivering as his hair unspooled down his back, the color blanching as it paled, his hands scraping what they could off his face and into his mouth as he licked his fingers, the force of his sucking lengthening them to long, slender things tipped with razor sharp nails.

"P-Please it's soooo d-deliciou- UMPH!"

Well how could she deny such a desperate customer? Even his cock was hard, visible through even the overlaid apron as his moans were silenced by a spoon filled with cake, his lips suckling on the spoon like a helpless child's, swelling as frosting painted them blue.

Sarge ladled more spoonfuls of the treat into his wanting mouth, smiling as her experimental dish proved to be a success, a pleasure for both as Soma's squeals after each bite slowly gained a bassier rumble to them, even if the pitch of them was rising. She watched each swallow rumble down his body, pooling in his ass as the hard chair gained its extra cushioning, his cock wet around the tip as more fat spread into his caboose. More of his midriff was showing, the loose tie of his apron fully unfolding as his height grew. He was ripening quickly, his sides curdling as he ate more cake, unable to care about the changes rolling through his body as they squeezed into his stomach, as if they were trying to get a nibble before it all got digested. Small rips began to accumulate on the sides of his pants, more fat curving them, filling them, each mouthful another shot of burning lust as with a tear his ass tore free of his clothes, cheeks glistening with sweat as full womanly hips spread out along his youthful body, trembling as cum dribbled from his cock lazily.

Soma felt like he was being smothered in gourmecstasy, his eyes only focused on each spoonful as he begged for more, hungrily swallowing each one, barely noticing the moment he swallowed the lump in his throat, only moaning in husky bliss as it meant more cake could slide down his gullet and bless him with shocks of pleasure. Even if he was cumming he hadn't climaxed yet, all of it building inside like he was a stick of dynamite being stuffed with nitro. A gurgle rose from his hungry stomach, the skin above it bubbling as hairs rained down, his coloring paling more and more as the bubbles purified it to a blindingly pale sheen.

"Ooooh~!"

There was pressure spreading down his hips, the seams of his half exploded jeans tensing more as his legs twitched and spread, popping out of their khaki prisons as mature womanhood spread down their curving forms.

His thighs felt massive, crushing his cock in the same fluffy smoothness that was rolling down his throat, his feet clenching as they burst from his shoes, their petite shape still too much for a boy's clothing to handle. He was screaming between bites, writhing in his chair as Sarge forced more of her creation into him, his hair the only thing covering his ass as it finished growing out to a periwinkle blue. There was only a few mouthfuls left and Soma had never needed something more in his life, groaning with desperation when Sarge paused, his face screwing up with need as it mirrored hers more by the second.

"Oh you like it that much eh? You want me to finish you off scum?"

She teased his cock with a nail, grabbing the full dish before throwing it to the ground.

"You can do that yourself you pathetic excuse for a chef. The floor is the only plate you deserve."

He lunged towards the fallen cake, no longer caring, just needing to gobble down every bite to release the insistent need inside, groaning as all of the pleasure seemed to be building in his chest, his cock feeling like it was going to explode as Sarge stepped on him, grinding him to the floor.

"AHHH AHHH NOOO OHHH GAAAHHD~!"

With her heel grinding him down, he could feel how sensitive his nipples had become, the pressure rising as they pushed against the concrete, his cock uncomfortably pressed like a panini between his body and the ground. His pitiful moans only had her step harder, any moments of slack followed by slamming his cock back into the ground as it turned as spongy as her cake. It was pressing into him, fucking away all of his resistance, his snark as his chest wobbled with every slam, surging out thicker and harder. He was on the precipice, screaming for release as his cock pressed into little more than a nub, his heart beating faster than a chainsaw as he swallowed one final bite. And as it slid down his throat, he finally came.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK~!"

It was all she could say, her body quaking as she felt her fresh pussy gush, her heart feeling like it stopped as every inch of her body felt the rapturous orgasm that followed completion. Her massive chest was enough to nearly knock over Sarge once it burst out. Despite how blissful it had been, Sarge could see her much improved cadet rubbing between her legs in a daze, shimmying against the ground still craving the aftershocks of her meal.

"My, you've become a slut for the dark's cooking haven't you? Though that isn't the proper uniform for a chef serving under Asahi is it? Since you had to be fed like a child I'll dress you like one scum."

She had more fun than she had expected, Soma's writhing form helpless against her, the lust leaving her in a pleasure induced coma as Sarge began to slip her uniform on. She let the pantyhose snap down, rubbing her clone's slit through them as she came again, the tight miniskirt slipping on easily while she tightened it to near choking degree. Any time she saw some life flash in Soma's eyes she'd jab her pussy or squeeze one of her breasts, the latter being easier as she put on the top without a bra, its figure hugging tightness like someone was permanently groping Soma's chest as she pulled him up, slamming him down in some heels as he finally awoke from his daze.

"Huh? What did you- O-Oh my god I'm you!"

She slapped him at that outburst, sending him tumbling back to the floor as she threw one of her spare hats at him, leaning over him menacingly.

"Listen here you little shit! You don't get to say you're me yet with skills as subpar as yours. You barely were more than a cadet before and now that I've helped you mature you should be grateful to be even called a Private! You're going to learn the pleasures and skills of my cooking every day from here on out until you're ready to serve Asahi. Understand me maggot?!"

He wanted to fight back and say hell no to this absurd request, but when he tried to disobey her, Soma found his words choking him, his body shuddering under a raw repulsion to not following Sarge's orders. The choking sensation was reciprocated by Sarge as she fixed Soma's unruly attire, strangling him with his tie as she slammed his cap onto his head.

"Did you just try to disobey your superior you little overconfident shit?! Did you really think I'd allow insubordination from a lower ranked troop?! Until you can cook just like me and match me in battle I order a seal on your usual cooking techniques. From now on you are no longer the maggot you once were! Your name is Private because your cooking talent deserves to be shut away where no one can be sickened by it!"

"Th-That's not fair! It's all just a gimmiNNGH!" Another wave of nausea followed the outburst as Sarge grinned at it, pulling out a chocolate covered tart as she offered him an out.

"Oh? You think you can match me? Well here, try to recreate one of my 'gimmicks' if you're so certain it's that easy. If you can handle my battle cooking and recreate it with my tools then I'll turn you back. And if you can't then you must suffer through my combat cooking boot camp until you're less than shit. Does that sound fair?"

He didn't have an option, and besides their gap wasn't that far so all he had to do was recreate it off a single bi-

"GAAAAAWWWWD F-FUUUUUU-NNGH-UUUUUCK~!"

It was an explosion in his mouth and pants, the dish pounding his tongue into submission while his pussy exploded out the overpowering gourmet taste, his body collapsing to the floor as he found himself utterly spent.

"Oh that's not fair you have to try the whole thing scum."

She shoved the rest in his mouth, making her copy beg for mercy until she was a stunned mess, unable to even grip a fork much less a chainsaw to cook.

"Be thankful for the chance to be made better. We get up at 0400 Private!"

The following days were endless, his mind beginning to crack as endless repetition led to more and more of Sarge's mannerisms being imprinted onto his brain like he was mochi being pounded. Whatever had been in that cake made his body not just have to follow her orders but need to follow them. Every time he did well, it felt like pure ambrosia filled his veins, his privates Sarge's plaything as her rough training punished with pain and rewarded with pleasure. Even if he had her body, he needed the muscle memory, Sarge forcing him to swing her sledgehammer hammer till it became second nature. If he ever mistimed a swing she would send her own barreling onto his ass, or worse, using the rounded end as a dildo to drill it into his body what a proper swing felt like.

There was no downtime, every waking moment devoted to a different one of Sarge's arts as he was forced to work, eat and sleep in his military uniform, the tight outfit feeling comfortable after three days, necessary by the fourth. Every day was a hellish course of physical training and cooking, every time he got a dish wrong, he'd be forced to eat every last morsel of Sarge's explosive cooking, further degrading his mental state as he was forced to do laps with the chainsaw in hand while cumming. He was forced to cook and train each day until he dropped, and whenever he fell to the ground Sarge would drag his sorry ass back to their lodgings and proceed to roughly finger him as she drilled explosives knowledge into his mind.

He wanted to do better, had to excel, the pleasure driving him crazy, his body burning with a need to finish, to end this torturous rapture. At a certain point he realized he had forgotten his name, Sarge's barks of "PRIVATE!" replacing it. Even his motivation for doing it changed as he began to respect his drill sergeant, want her, love her. He had to prove he wasn't worthless, show he had what it took to win, to BE her. At the end of day 5 she had almost done the full exercises without collapsing, and couldn't help but get wet at the slight hint of approval Sarge showed to her stamina. That night she read the explosives manuals front to back, masturbating at all the carnage and destruction they could cause, and the gourmet potential they carried. Day 6 she awoke an entirely new woman, determined to graduate her rankings, the tight hug of the uniform like Sarge herself was groping her every contour, urging on her every movie as she not just copied, but advanced from the lessons that were her everything now.

There was still some uncertainty creeping inside her, a feeling this wasn't right, yet the thrum of the chainsaw in her hand ran through her body, massaging her clit that made her cooking as pleasureful as it was dangerous. Sarge smiled for the first time as she saw Private's handling of her CCK Chainsaw, the uneven cuts more tempered, more method to the madness. There was an unnatural glint in her eyes tempered with only a hint of the worry and concern that had been exhausted out of her new recruit. And there was one surefire way to blast it all away.

"Mediocre work Private! Are you happy with that?!"

"NO SARGE NO!"

"Are you sure? It seems like mediocre is your limit until you can throw away that weakness inside! Do you want to get rid of all doubts?"

"YES SARGE!"

"Then come with me Private!"

When Private saw they were heading to the explosives range, she couldn't help but be excited, panting the closer they got, filled with a feeling of finality, that something would change here. Sarge handed the plunger to her, an entire field of random junk there. Some of it seemed familiar.

"Some third rate chef hasn't been back to that filthy light school all week, so I stole his belongings and put them on top of the nitro array. Will you do the honors for me?"

Private nearly moaned with want and need, her eyes shedding the last of their empathy as she grasped the handle, squealing as a glorious destructive boom filled the area, Sarge grinning as her new twin's eyes gained that same sharpness as her own, brimming with hatred for the world and disgust for all things on the light side of cooking.

"Mmmm~ I feel much better Sarge. Now let's return to the kitchen, I have an idea I must show you."

There was little that could stand in Private's way as she barged into the festival, her glare freezing all of those worthless light chefs in her path. There was some fodder in her way as she moved towards the arena, finding it unbelievably hot that all of these fucking idiots thought she was Sarge. She had something very special hidden in her hat for later, but first she had to clear the riff raff, her quarter finals opponent cowering under the aromas of her ingredients, her chainsaw's motor taking all the fight from them as she passed it with ease, looking down on the worthless fuck who dared to call themself a chef.

"You're not even worth PTing into shape. You're not garbage, you're the stain it leaves when even the bugs have found nothing left of use to chew on. Get out of my site before I carve you up and serve you to the fucking judges."

Semifinals seemed more of a challenge at least, some meek girl with fire in her eyes asking about what she had done with someone named Soma. The name rang a bell, but even just thinking it made her body react with disgust, the name begging for bullying as she decided to show this girl no mercy. It wasn't like she had planned to hold back, but she felt especially annoyed for some reason and knew she had to shatter this pathetic little girl's spirit as she decided to do her explosive creme brulee. It was a dish few chefs could endure the cooking of, much less being near the blast radius and was done to purposefully demoralize any of her opponents whose spirits weren't prepared. It required a consecutive twenty blasts of increasingly stronger explosions all while delicately stirring a mix of ingredients which were mixed and folded by the aftershocks.

By the time she was finished the girl named Megumin was a wreck, crying over her mess of a workstation while Private put the final touches on her winning dish. She wasn't half bad and growing a spine would do her some good, but Sarge had a more pressing target to deal with.

"Ugh, like I can't believe my opponent is you. Well after this is Asahi so I guess all his lackeys have to go first. Just try not to be too annoying okay?"

Erina Nakiri, the biggest bitch of the light chefs, the whore that her wonderful Asahi wanted to marry for her power and influence. She was the only one that mattered, the only challenge left that kept her from having Asahi all to herself.

"Ah a confident bitch aren't you? The one who will serve by his side is me you hear me light scum?!"

"Whatever. I don't plan to be caught anywhere near that weirdo's side. You can have him when he loses to me. Enjoy the loser's bracket bitch. I don't even need to try against a chef of your calibur."

"Oh then how about we make a wager? If I lose I'll be your slave, but if you lose you'll become my prisoner of war and get to relearn cooking my way."

She laughed at that, finding her confidence adorable.

"Oh I look forwards to running you ragged and making you burn that stupid military outfit. And I'll also have you show me where you hid Soma. He might be an idiot but since you're not talking I'll have to tear it out. Feel free to have your buddies help if you'd like, it'll be a good warm up for the grand finals."

Private grinned, knowing she had just dug her own grave for sure as an identical voice growled from off stage, "Well if you insist!"

The entire crowd looked confused as an identical Sarge walked in, same chainsaw, utensils and uniform. Even Erina seemed confused by the twin as she proclaimed, "Oh don't worry you were just dealing with my sister Private. I'm sure you'll have much to talk with when we take you where Soma is. Well, if you can make us. Sad to say, but the Soma you knew isn't of this world anymore."

"Bullshit you creeps just have him in a basement somewhere it's on!"

And so the cooking began, but unfortunately for Erina, she had bit off more than she could chew with her god tongue.

Perhaps it was due to their otherworldly cooperation, both of them able to cook in sync without talking as if linked telepathically, or perhaps it was the distraction of their cooking as Erina had to counteract their gimmicks from attacking her own stage. Maybe it was her worry for Soma creeping through that dulled her responses just a tad, pulling her from 100% to 99 focus as the tiniest mistakes ended up costing her the match as she glowered at the twin chefs, angered that they had so thoroughly rattled her at such an important competition. She felt especially annoyed with the one taking their military cap off, something annoyingly familiar about some of their mannerisms that she couldn't quite place.

"Ugh fine I'll do your stupid boot camp and suffer through your cooking techniques. I'll kick your asses next ti- NNGH MMPH?!"

The one removing her cap shoved a purple and blue cake into Erina's openly bitching mouth, her sister grabbing her arms as they made her swallow, her face flushed red while her thighs began to rub against one another.

"Ugh, like what did you put int- OOOOOH~! Th-That mmmph N-Nooo OOOO!"

Pleasure was building inside, her black totsuki chef uniform growing tighter as the two identical chefs began to play with her body, Erina's cries rising to a sinister, mature roar as her body matured. Everything was growing, her hips, her ass, her chest, her horniness, all of it building into a terrible peak as her sist- ergh c-captors slapped her rising curves, her lips smeared purple by the delectable frosting as cum began to pour down her legs.

One of them put their chainsaw's motor directly over her pussy, the other pressing it onto her breasts as the fabric was stretched to its limit, Erina's mind crumbling under their twin assaults.

"You're going to make quite the lovely present for Asahi aren't you?"

"A-Asahi?"

Her eyes glazed, an unstoppable force building between her thighs as his sexy face, his toned body, all of it was delving into her mind, her hair turning a pale blue at the roots as she moaned trying to keep it in.

"N-No I d- HOOOOON'T w-wanna be that l-los- m-master's loyal, o-obedient, FUUUUUUUUCK~!"

She couldn't hold back the feelings anymore, screaming as her Nakiri identity spewed from her pussy, her breasts and ass tearing through her outfit as the thought of being Asahi's present grew too sexy to deny. She screamed as she wanted it, giving in to the oppressively rigid desires of Sarge and Private as Cadet was born anew, squealing as she came to the dark side.

When all was said and done, the three chefs were identical, no one able to tell which was which after a quick outfit change left Erina's tattered uniform to the side, all of them hungry to face Asahi and taste his meat dish for themselves. With no way to tell them apart, he'd have to take on all three for his wives, and they knew how much he really loved them over that bitch. As they looked over the shocked faces of the crowd and the horrified despair on the light side's chefs, they grinned grabbing the mic from the announcer who seemed scared of being turned into one of them, not that they'd accept such poor quality trash.

"DO NOT DESPAIR SCUM! YOU MIGHT ALL BE THIRD RATE TRASH BUT WE CAN FIX THAT AND ALL YOU HAVE TO PAY US WITH ARE YOUR IDENTITIES! THIS IS OUR DECLARATION OF WAR ON THE LIGHT CHEFS AND ANY WHO THINK THEY CAN BEAT US CAN UNDO WHICHEVER YOU WANT, BUT BE PREPARED TO BE PT'ED INTO ANOTHER SOLDIER THE SECOND WE GROUND YOUR SKILLS INTO THE DUST!"

With their challenge set it was only a matter of time before their numbers swelled even more. All of those goody two shoes would eventually try their luck at saving their friends, and their friends them  as well. It was only a matter of time before the light was snuffed out by the dark, and Sarge's supremacy would rule the food world under her beloved Commander.