BBW Planet XXL - by Marlow

Dimensions Magazine

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Feb 5, 2013
~BBW, sci-fi, action, ~xwg - We return to outer space with a bigger budget, better special effects, and a whole galaxy of delicious food.

Episode II


After generations of unsustainable terraforming and subprime hydroponics,
humanity’s far-flung space colonies were on the brink of starvation.

It was only contact with the Confederation of Species which saved them.
This collection of wealthy alien races supplies planets all across the galaxy with food subsidies.

But in exchange for survival, the human colonies have given up their independence.
They are completely reliant on the Confederation’s supplies and powerless against its might.

The rule of the alien oligarchs has been nothing short of oppressive.
And the enriched nutrient paste they supply doesn’t even taste good.

The flagship of the human navy has traveled to the galactic capital of Cunaxa to negotiate a fairer treaty.
The diplomats aboard are optimistic.

It is the furthest a human ship has ever ventured into alien space.

Chapter 1

Laser fire tore into the flagship. Jets of plasma fire sprayed from the hull. The Confederation warships pressed their attack, blasting away with every weapon they possessed. The human ship crumpled inward, broke in two, and exploded.

A flurry of shuttles and escape pods raced away from the flames. Most were quickly cornered and captured, but a handful, hidden by a lucky piece of debris, managed to crash-land on the docks of a nearby spaceport. Human survivors scrambled out, dragging all the equipment and footlockers they could carry. Their prim, skin-tight, brightly colored uniform jackets were an absurdity amidst all the wreckage and destruction.

“What in the stars just happened?” cried an ensign.

“I don’t know what the diplomats said,” grumbled a lieutenant, to one of the ship’s armored guards, “but you were right. Negotiations were short.”

The guard motioned to the other guards and they gathered around her. The lieutenant buttoned up his uniform and rallied the surviving crewmembers. They were supposedly the fleet’s best and brightest, but they were all young. The admiralty had seen the mission as a photo-op and had sent their most conventionally attractive, rather than most experienced. For most, it had been their first trip through a spacegate.

“We can’t just stay here,” panted a cadet. “We’ll be captured…like all the rest. I’m just a kitchen steward. I’m not—” The shorter, stockier commander of the guards set a hand on her shoulder.

The lieutenant agreed. “What shape are the shuttles in?”

“Mostly wrecked,” said an engineer.

“And they’d only get shot out of the sky.” He glanced around the dockyard. Local aliens were fleeing into the corridors. Civilian ships and personal transports were blasting off in a hurry, eager to be away from the fighting.

The shorter guard nudged him and pointed. A loading ramp at the far end of the docks was unattended. They couldn’t see much of the ship it led to, but it had Confederation markings. The cargo bay door was wide open.

“Star-troopers,” gasped another ensign. Armored soldiers poured into the spaceport, firing wildly.

“Make for that ship!” bellowed the lieutenant. The cry was taken up throughout the crowd.

They sprinted across the dockyard, knocking over kiosks of alien food and barrels of alien drinks. More survivors crawled from the wreckage and joined in. The guards fought a fighting retreat all the way, holding off the star-troopers until everyone had hauled themselves and their equipment up the ramp. The stocky guard commander was the last aboard; she took a glancing blaster-shot to the thing and collapsed into the ship just as the door slammed shut.

“I’ve sealed it,” said the engineer. “I think. Alien tech is weird.”

“What do we do?”

The crowd milled about in the darkness. “Find the bridge,” someone suggested. “Commandeer the ship.”

“Yeah. They’ll think we’re just another freighter or whatever trying to get out of the way.”

“Slip away in the confusion?”

“You’re going to just power this thing up and fly it away? We don’t even know what kind of ship it…” The lights flickered on. “…is…”

“I have located the lighting controls,” reported an android.

They stood and stared. They had entered through the cargo bay: an enormous cargo bay that had to be half a mile across, if not more. It was packed wall to wall with crates, casks, tanks, containment cubes, and polymer sacks. The labels were in alien script, but their intent was clear.

“Food,” said the kitchen steward. “And not nutrient paste, either. Holy nebulas…Thalassian cream, salted Taochian stew…it’s real food. Years’ worth.”

“What kind of ship is this?”

The android scrolled through a console. “It appears to be a privately owned vessel. It is configured and stocked for several hundred passengers, in addition to a full complement of crew. I would tentatively classify it as something not unlike a ‘luxury cruise-liner’, though on a much grander scale.”

“A galactic scale,” breathed the lieutenant.

“Its name appears to be a idiom in the alien tongue. The nearest equivalent would be the ‘Golden Goose.’ The ship is full prepared for flight.”

The engineer opened an access hatch and discovered a long, carpeted corridor, lined with erotic alien paintings and sculptures. “So our plan,” he scoffed, “is to escape the battle in a stolen cruise ship? Are we serious? Who’s in charge here?”

“Good question,” said the lieutenant. “How many other senior officers made it? I’m only an operations lieutenant…I’ve never commanded a starship.”

They looked around. The captain and most of the senior staff at been at the diplomatic meeting when the firing started. Almost everyone who’d made it was an ensign at best.

“Following stated interstellar naval protocols,” said the android, pointing, “I believe the guard commander to be the highest-ranking officer remaining.”

Every eye turned to the door. It was the short, stocky guardswoman. She was slumped against the door, treating her wounded thigh and paying them no attention. But there, on her armor, were the four glowing rings of a commander. A crowd began to form around her and the cargo bay went quiet.

Estelle pulled off her helmet. “What?”
Last edited:


Feb 5, 2013
Hi everyone! This is a loose sequel to my 2016-17 story Planet XL. If you'd like to read or re-read that one first, it's around at this link:

Some punctuation has been lost in forum reformatting over the years, so I've also attached a .pdf of the original draft to this post.

But don't worry. It's a loose sequel, as mentioned. Without spoiling anything too terribly: a strange planet was visited, food was eaten, and weight was gained. There were also some spooky space-monsters and a friendly android.




New Member
Dec 9, 2014
Oh man, you have no idea how excited I am for this. Was just re-reading Planet XL a month or so back, and was reminded for the third time what a great story it is. Hopefully this sequel can continue the trend!


Feb 5, 2013
Chapter 2

Estelle Gorlois had survived her mission to exoplanet LV-237, but she’d returned to her home colony bloated, sloppy, and just shy of three hundred pounds. The colonies had endured generations of hunger and starvation and her reappearance had turned into a significant scandal.

The admiralty had immediately separated her from the other even heavier survivors and forced her into spaceguard training for ‘rehabilitation and reconditioning.’ She had shed nearly a hundred pounds in the years since, but she hadn’t shed the reputation. They’d assigned her to the Cunaxa mission solely to keep her off-world and away from any other potential embarrassments to the navy.

So much for that: now she was standing in the captain’s cabin of a stolen Confederation ship, trying on a captain’s uniform. The cabin was much too big for her—it was a full luxury suite with a sensually furnished bedroom, an entertainment parlor full of erotic alien statuary, and a bathroom that seemed to go on forever—but the uniform was too small. Snug blue trousers with a gold stripe tracing her thick legs, a white undershirt that clung to her muffin-top, a stiff jacket buttoned all the way to the collar; the gold buttons were pretty, but they had not fastened easily.

The crew were all lithe, toned, meticulously trained young socialites with flawless complexions and perky buttocks. To Estelle it felt almost wrong that they should now have to take orders from a short, blocky-framed commander with a doughy, square-shaped lump hanging from her midsection. Even if she could keep it all tucked away behind her jacket and her waistband, she still had the round face, plush chin, and sagging chest of a woman who’d once been much bigger. She had no business on the bridge of a starship.

“Still,” said the admiral on the viewscreen, “we’re glad to know you’re alive. How many of you made it?”

“There are ninety-four of us, sir. We commandeered a, uh, commercial vessel and managed to slip out of the system in the confusion.”

“Well, that’s…well. Impressive, commander. Recalling your former days as a smuggler, are we? Well, what do you mean to do next?”

Estelle tied back her hair. She could at least look professional, if not as fit as the others. “I was hoping you’d tell me, sir. Who can we rendezvous with for a ride home?”

“Rendezvous? Commander Gorlois, you’re all that’s left. The spacegates are closed to human ships until all this gets sorted out. It’s a political nightmare here on the colonies.”

She stared. “So we’re stuck out here?”

“For now. The way things have been…we can’t risk acting against the Confederation. They’d cut off the food supply. I’ve recalled all available ships for local defense. There’s no one to send even if we could.”

“So, we’re stuck out here in hostile territory…we’re in an unarmed ship with no access to the spacegates…and we’re as far from home as we can possibly be.”

The admiral forced a smile. “The politicians will sort something out. We’ll get you home. Just…sit tight until then. Keep your people safe. And keep them in shape this time, hm?”

She grimaced. “I’ll keep a log and send you updates when we can. Golden Goose out.”

“Don’t do anything reckless.” His voice dropped. “Good luck, commander.”

The viewscreen went dark. Estelle tossed her datapad across the cabin and stood. The blaster wound flared in her thing as soon as she put weight on it, though, and she collapsed back into the chair.

“Shall I call for a medic?” asked the android, returning from the other room.

“No, Starling, thank you. I’m fine. Just…hand me my bio-pak.”

He obliged her, as always. She strapped the device around her wrist and tapped its little screen.

“Subject has sustained an injury,” it chirped in its tinny little voice. “Cauterized plasma wound detected on left membrum inferius. Dispensing reconstruction proteins. Continuing biological analysis. Subject is in good health. 201 pounds…”

She shut it off. “Almost back under two, Starling. Almost there.”

“At ease,” she said, ten minutes later. Her forehead glistened with sweat. She’d insisted on taking the access-ladders rather than the turbolifts, but the wound was still giving her trouble.

The crew had assembled in the stellar cartography chamber. They had shot rigidly to attention at her arrival, snapping off a well-coordinated salute. If anyone was as exhausted, frustrated, or anxious as they should have been after several harrowing days, they refused to show it. The only worry they showed was the occasional concerned glance at one of the tasteless erotic alien paintings that seemed to be everywhere in the ship.

“We were able to make contact with an admiral back home,” Estelle announced. “The situation is…well, it’s basically as bad as we thought. It’s just us out here and we shouldn’t expect much in the way of help. Confederation ships will attack us on sight. No access to the gates and no safe rendezvous.”

This was not inspiring. “We’re blasted, then,” said a cadet.

“That’s our only advantage. No one’s going to expect anything from us. But I think we owe it to ourselves and to everyone back home to…well, to at least try. If we sit here doing nothing, they’ll find us and do who knows what to us.” She glared around the room. “Unless anyone objects, I’m officially reading myself in as captain of this ship. Lieutenant Caelius, I’m naming you first officer. Starling, let the log show that we’ve taken command of the vessel under interstellar navy emergency protocols as of 1100 hours, stardate 401.09.13. And we’re getting the hell out of here.”

No one objected, but an ensign raised a hand. “Do you have a plan?”

“I have an idea.” She called up a holographic star-map. They gathered around it. “So this is us, here. We can’t use the Confederation’s spacegates, so we can’t go back the way we came. But the New Kansas gate over here is human-controlled. If we can get there, we can make the jump home.”

“That’s half the galaxy away. We’d have to cross all of Confederation territory to get there.”

“Without their gates, all we could do is hop system to system,” said a cadet.

Estelle nodded. “Pretty much.”

“You want to run system to system through the middle of enemy space? They’d just blow us out of the stars. We saw what they did to the flagship.”

“There’s another way.” Estelle rotated the map and waved through the sparsely-populated expanse outside the color-coded borders of the Confederation. “We can make a run for the Outlaw Rim.”

The crowd murmured. “So, your plan,” scoffed a science officer, “is to avoid the deadly route through hostile, dangerous territory by taking the even deadlier route through even more hostile and more dangerous territory? In a cruise ship?”

“Half those systems aren’t even on the charts,” said a cartographer. “Warlords, collapsed societies, thieves’ havens, mercenaries, rogue AIs, space pirates…even Confederation forces know not to go out there.”

Estelle forced a smile. “That’s why it’s our best bet.”

The lieutenant whistled. “All the way around the rim…it’s not exactly a shortcut. We’d be out there for more than a year.”

“Or we could stay here and get killed in less than a day,” said the engineer. “They’re on our tail already and this ship isn’t exactly inconspicuous. If the Confederation fleet catches up to us, we have no real defenses on this thing. It barely has shields.”

“So, we fly blind into the Outlaw Rim in a highly recognizable stolen ship with no armor and no weapons. Your plan is to fly us through the scariest part of the galaxy in a conspicuous, unarmed, and totally defenseless cruiseliner?”

“Yes.” Estelle closed the map. “If anyone doesn’t want to come, you’re welcome to take a shuttle back and wait for the Confederation to pick you up. Yes, it will be a long trip. No, it won’t be easy. But I say we go out there are take our chances.”

She folded her arms and waited. No one moved.

“It is a really nice ship,” said the kitchen steward, biting into a strange-looking alien sandwich. “And given what’s in the cargo bay, at least we don’t have to worry about running out of food. Mm—mm—have you guys tried these?”
Jul 25, 2014
Dodging armies and possibly pirates on a stolen private cruise ship loaded with food while traveling through dangerous territory. Sounds like the start of a great adventure and awesome shenanigans.