FFA Prompts 2: D.Va's Descent (Patreon)

Tags: light slob, extreme weight gain, mobility issues, some health stuff (not much), Messy eating.

A lot of people really wanted to see D.Va be huge. Rather than try to tackle them all individually, I tried to work it into the existing Overwatch Narrative we've been cobbling together over these Prompts. Not as much health stuff on this one, might save that for the next check on D.Va.

Mercy huffed and puffed from her bed, trying to strain her fingers enough to reach the console resting by her side. Her hand, puffy and being slowly swallowed by forearm fat, was only able to slap at the pad of buttons and sliders. The doctors condition had only worsened since her admittance to the obesity wing of her own hospital, her gluttony having deepend to absurd levels in the intervening months. Her days were spent in a boom and bust cycle of blood sugar highs and food comas. She had literally eaten until she passed out, usually trying to outdo her young companion, Brigitte. Even now, straining to do something besides eat herself closer to the line of mortality, she felt the telltale signs of extreme heart strain. She panted, feeling sweat re-moisten her naked folds. She huffed, wheezing and panting into her nasal plugs. Yet, she was able to finally pull up her display after thumping on the control panel with her sausage fingers.

"Hhaaauuuh. . .theresch. . .it. . .issscch. . .ooohhh. . .ssshhhuuusshhp." She wheezed, sucking in as much air as she could into her lungs. She fought against the weight of her titanic tits, now big enough to fill a footstool with their pendulous girth. She leaned over to try and catch her highly diabetic partner's eyes. Yet, despite Brigitte's own bed filling mass, Mercy could hardly catch a glimpse past her own facial folds. She was sinking into a plump abyss of her own making, her peripheral vision slowly ebbed away by her own cheeks. Even now, the behemoth doctor had to pant and wheeze through lips formed into a permanent pout by her bulbous cheeks. "Bwiggiitte. . .look. . .at. . .whooouussch. . .disch." Mercy’s angelic and dignified voice was made comical by her fat-speak and slurring. "My. . .uuuuggggh. . .other. . .paschient. . .worschening. " The doctor grew red faced and exasperated from speaking, her lungs and heart starting to give out from the effort. She pushed the view screen, bringing up the vitals for Hana Song (D.va) before settling down to suckle at her feeding tube.

----

"Miss Song, control needs you." The officer said, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Hana. It was almost too painful to see what the beautiful, gamer girl had degenerated into. While the officer had always been wary of letting a professional gamer join the mecha-drone program, he could never have predicted the degree to which he had been proven correct. When Hana had joined the team she had been a spritely Korean woman, intent on using her advanced mech piloting skills to better serve the mech and drone division of the Korean police. While she had vastly upgraded the tech and operating procedures, it had not been without cost though. That cost falling squarely upon Hana's body, her dignity, and the dignity of the mech and drone division.

"Uuuugggh. . .can't they. . .BBLLURRRUUUUP. . .wait?" Hana chirped before plunging her face back into the bucket of nachos she was working on. In her darkened room, with only the glow of monitors to provide light, the gigantic mass of her body could still be seen. Through the half gloom a pile of rolls and folds oozing with sweat and grease could be seen. Hana's arms, as thick as logs, held the aforementioned bucket whilst her moon shaped face plunged in. Cheese, jalapeños, and taco meat burst outwards as she stopped through her food. She was dressed in industrial sized underwear, the most recent of her increasingly bizarre demands. The military tech to make bunny shaped panties that could withstand 700 pounds of womanly flesh had not existed until Hana demanded. "Mmmggph. . .canshel. . .it. . pleasch. . .Bbbbblllrruuuaaap." She spoke through a cacophony of lip smacking, belching, and other pig-noises.

"I'm sorry, Miss, the upper command will not allow it. I was sent to fetch you!" He saluted, holding himself to a standard that Hana would never even consider.

"Uuuuugggh!" Ever the brat, Hana tossed her half eaten bucket away. Greasy food spilled over her body. She slowly turned her chair around, the over stressed furniture looked more like a bench rather than an office chair. The view of her panties, stained with sweat and food, was slowly replaces with her breasts and stomach. Melted yellow cheese drained slowly between breasts as big as watermelons, hardly covered at all by her bra. She was wheezing even after she turned around, already tired by the work she put in. Her fat feet thumped against the floor, days of graceful movement long gone. Besides her underwear, she wore nothing else besides two rings, which acted as various health monitors, given to her by Mercy prior to her decadent fall. "I can't. . .too. . .UUURRRRPPP. . .full." Hana tried to stand, giving a pathetic and lame attempt. She flopped back down, sweaty rolls squelching and food falling onto the floor. She crossed her curtains of arms fat over her chest, folding her breasts under them.

"That is okay, Miss, the security council anticipated that." The officer pushed a button on his watch. Hana gasped as a scooter pulled itself alongside the door. It was larger than any mobility scooter the Korean woman had ever seen, and her ass had crushed plenty as of late. It's chair was wide and supported by thick coils of metal. There was a wide platform for her to rest her feet. . .and gut upon. She thought at first that the makers had included a cup holder and meal tray, but she realized that the platform jutting from the steering console was instead meant for her to rest her breasts upon. It was the union of military-industrial complex and bariatric science. Hana was caught between hate and love. Hate for the simple fact it meant she had to move, love for the promise of using it to more easily move and feed herself. "I can help you in, if you would like." The official said, his tone suggesting it would be a punishment.

"Ab-uuggh-scho-eennggh-lately not!" Hana gritted her teeth and grunted the words out as she tried to stand. Her heart beat wildly and out of control as she tried to stand. Her legs shook and quaked under her weight. Sweat soaked her body, running rivulets down her stomach as she did her best to work atrophied muscles. Hana distantly remembered when she was a field agent, capable of running around and participating in active gun fights. How far she had fallen since. Her breasts slapped and beat against her stomach, thudding like drumbeats. "I. . .haaahh. . .never. . .looose!" She had to cheer herself on as she reached a standing position. "Even. . .OOOOUUURRRUUUPPP. . .if I'm. . .heew. . .playing on. . .uuffh. . .hard mode." She slapped her massive gut, sending a spray of nacho cheese and tortilla chip fragments out into the messy room.

She slowly waddled forward, sagging gut swinging back and forth against her knees. Lights on her health monitors blared, feeding intoxicating erotic data back to Mercy. Each step was recorded, along with the strain it put on Hana's body. "I'm. . .BBLLLUUURRRUUPP. . .never gonna. . .scchhtttooooOOOORRRPppp." The obese gamer and former mecha pilot felt her body go into a fiendish overdrive as she crossed the room. Sweat matted her hair and make her body slick. She had to alternate between tugging at her panties and splaying her arms out for balance. At any moment she was ready to tumble into a heap on the uncleaned floor. Whether Hana would admit it or not, it was a miracle she reached her scooter at all. She flopped into the seat, reveling in the disgust that filled the officer's face. The tank-like suspension on the scooter strained, but ultimately held her mass. "Match. . .uuuffh. . . point. . .me!" She beamed, feeling another belch well up in her gut.

Back home, Mercy was foaming at the mouth looking at the digital readouts of Hana's biological markers.