BBW Planet XXL - by Marlow

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Marlow

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I hesitate to think what some of this alien food actually tastes like, but be sure to let us know what sounds the most appetizing!



Chapter 17

The Golden Goose’s kitchens had been found programmed with recipes from throughout the Confederation. The crew had quickly added everything they could think of from home. And with every new system they’d passed through, every colony they’d visited, every depot they’d raided, and every alien race they’d encountered, a whole new world of culinary traditions had been added to the menu. Between the provisions already stored in the cargo bay and the loads of contraband they’d liberated along the way, their kitchens could now make just about anything.

There was so much to try. Estelle had half the galaxy at her lips. Every dish was an exploration and every bite a discovery.

She decided, that first evening, on a whole buttered lava-crab, served with spliced and mashed cancrian tubers and vacuum-grown meteor weed-sprouts. She finished the meal in its entirety, slowly savoring every morsel, and after a short rest followed it with a hasperat soufflé. Her stomach finally quieted as it swelled with contentment. She massaged it a while, basking in a pleasant, guiltless afterglow.

The second day, she woke with a sense of anticipation she hadn’t allowed herself in months. There was something to look forward to.

Breakfast was a selection of faintly glowing eggs that swirled with color. They were the most flavorful eggs she’d ever eaten, but also the most filling. She appeared on the bridge much later than she’d planned, having spent an hour digesting. The bridge officers greeted her with knowing looks; her jacket was completely unbuttoned. She didn’t stay long.

With the eggs sitting heavy even later into the day—she’d forgotten to check which alien foods were actually safe for human consumption—she skipped lunch. But as she plodded through her uneventful daily rounds she made a few stops into the lounge for snacks: a sleeve of serpent worms, some spiced leola root, a basket of enriched protein wedges (heavily seasoned). She never quite let her stomach feel empty, but by evening she was ravenous for dinner anyway.

Her appetite got its wish. The kitchens sent her a gigantic ragnasaur steak with all the garnishes, sauces, and sides the tray could hold. The service arms uncorked a bottle of pulsar-treated wine and it made a perfect pairing. She was fuller halfway through the meal than she’d been at the end of dinner the night before, but never slowed. She switched on some music and shuffled to the hot tub, where the service arms rubbed her shoulders and fed her a bubbling semi-transparent pudding for dessert.

The third day she didn’t even change into her uniform, appearing on the bridge in her much more comfortable peignoir, once again late after a long breakfast of uttaberry crêpes. She dispensed with her inspections—much to the crew’s delight—and spent the day socializing instead. She joined the away-team in the officers’ lounge for dewback burgers and fiery Fornax rings. She joined the crew for dinner in the mess hall to celebrate an engagement between two ensigns. They sat feeding one another cake and receiving well-wishes. Estelle sat feeding herself Threfallian meat-vine and an assortment of sparkling fruits filled with a pungent, lip-puckering cider.

She’d eaten more lunch than anyone in the lounge and more dinner than anyone in the mess hall. But her shackles had been thrown off and her appetite wasn’t satisfied. She returned to her quarters bloated, disheveled, a little tipsy, and eager for more.

She got more: sauteed chryssalid, relativistically-cooked rice, something that claimed to be a salad but proved to be a high-calorie pre-hibernation meal for the giant herbivores of Ursonis IX. She didn’t remember what she chose for her second dessert of the night, but woke the next morning in her reading chair covered in crumbs and dribbles of a gelatin that changed color when she moved.

The next day she didn’t bother to appear on the bridge at all. She lounged in her cabin all day, listening to music from all over the galactic rim. She enjoyed a long, luxurious massage in the steam chamber. She watched erotic alien films. She watched the stars drift by. She ate. She ate more.

The sensations she’d worked so long to forget were returning and they were even better than she remembered. There were no more limits. She sat in bed and gazed lovingly at the menu even as her next meal was brought in. There was so much more to try.

Her stomach seemed to fill her vision. She directed the service-arms to rub it for her and reached for another pastry. They refilled her wine glass. They put on another film—the glamorous and always sultry Vesper Virgo was having a lust-filled adventure through the Tryphena system. It was late in this fourth night, just as she was reaching the blissful peak of a thoroughly glutted stupor, that the red alert sounded.
 
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Marlow

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(17.2)



The motion of the turbolift was almost unbearable. Estelle slumped against the wall with a moan, but it was drowned out by klaxons blaring throughout the ship. Her stomach was packed solid and stretched taut from days of overindulgence. Her breathing came in shallow heaves and her eyes wouldn’t focus. She pushed out a long rolling belch as the doors opened, but it was no relief.

“Status,” she grunted, staggering out. She realized only then that she was still in her robe and hurried to tie it.

“Came out of nowhere,” said Lieutenant Caelius.

“The ship appears to have a cloaking device of some kind,” reported Starling, typing on two separate consoles. “It became visible momentarily to fire a series of precision cutting beams and has once again cloaked. Two of our shield generators have been damaged and primary weapon systems are offline.”

Estelle leaned against his console. “Evasive man…oof. Maneuvers. Signal the Sphrigons to fan out. Urrp. Full…full sensor sweep.”

Panels flashed and the Golden Goose quaked. Officers were thrown from their chairs by showers of sparks. Estelle pitched across the bridge and collapsed onto Caelius. He survived, though he gave a pitiful wheeze as she rolled off.

“We haven’t done that since the academy,” she said, hobbling to her feet. “Come by my cabin sometime. I’ll make it up to you. Hworrp. Oh, ow.”

“Ow,” he agreed.

“Multiple hull breaches,” called Starling. “Indestructible III is reporting a core breakdown and has begun to abandon ship. Captain—intruder alerts on decks six through nine.”

“Security—call up the away team—and prep my armor. Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”

Part of her knew she wouldn’t fit in the armor anymore. It had been weeks since she’d needed it and it hadn’t fit then. But she tumbled into the ready room all the same and opened the armory. All she had time to pick up, though, was an ammo-belt.

She was trying to clasp it across her distended midsection when the door exploded. Smoke billowed into the room and three flying, man-sized jellyfish gurgled into the room, each wielding several knives.

Estelle dropped the belt and reached for a gun, but their tendrils whipped around her wrists and ankles and toppled her to the floor. One of the knives appeared at her throat. A fourth jellyfish joined, trilling to the others. They dragged Estelle into the corridor.

The deck was filled with dozens of jellyfish. The Goose’s security squads were holding at one end, blazing away with their plasma rifles but finding themselves quickly overrun. Estelle was dragged through to an atrium, where she saw the other crewmembers being hauled away in the opposite direction. She heard the now familiar voice of the kitchen steward and tried to twist around to look, but was too stiffly bloated to bend. One of the tendrils tightened over her belly and she nearly fainted.

She heard an airlock hiss open. The soft, friendly lighting of the Goose faded into the distance. The jellyfish hauled her into their ship through a long, winding accessway.

The comforting light of the Golden Goose faded. The intruders’ ship was cold, wet, and dark. Rather than computer screens and metal paneling everything here was brine-coated rock. Anemones waved from cracks in the walls, brushing Estelle’s lovehandles as she was dragged past.

They brought her into an echoing cavern and hurled her into a pool of water. Free from their tendrils, she thrashed around and fought to her feet. The murk was only knee-deep, but the bottom was slick and uneven and her belly was heavier than usual. She fell back with a humiliating splash and sat there, panting and dripping, as the water at the end of the chamber began to rise.

Out of the darkness snaked a massive, glowing jellyfish, a hundred feet long. It soared overhead and circled the chamber. The smaller jellyfish backed away.

“I am Tissaphernes,” boomed a voice, “general emeritus of the Myxozoan Legion and most successful fugitive-hunter in the history of the Confederation of Species. You are the ringleader of this belligerent and unlawful expedition. Identify yourself.”

Estelle tried to reply, but produced only a wet double-belch.

“Human, I have studied your species. Look at yourself: you do not resemble warriors of your kind. You are unfit to stand against me.” It circled again, tentacles rippling. “This is what becomes of you when your hubris steers you away from the guidance of the oligarchs.”

“Shuddup,” she managed.

“It is their sacred duty to save you from yourselves. The limits they impose are a kindness.” A tendril quested down and prodded her stomach. “This represents ingratitude and treason.”

“We’re trying…to get home. We were…betrayed…”

“You have betrayed our ideals. Home is denied to you. I will return the ship Golden Goose to its rightful owner and offer him your crew as compensation for his hardship.”

“And me? Did you drag me in here just to…to gloat and call me fat?”

“You are to remain here for the journey to ensure your crew’s cooperation. The voyage will take some time. Your meals will be…quite small.”

Estelle stood and attacked one of the smaller jellyfish. They fell together, but she wrestled the knife from its grip and poked around, trying to figure out which organ to threaten.

“Do as you please,” laughed the general. “They are mindless drones. And I command many more.”

Another jellyfish stung her and she collapsed again. She rolled and it reached out another tendril, but recoiled from the blue shimmer of a telekinetic shield.

“We have you, captain,” cried Lucine.

Alarms blared. Io vaulted out from the corridor and tackled both guards together. Maura and Zora flapped into the air and blasted away at the giant jellyfish. He roared and disappeared beneath the water. The ship rocked and trembled and lights began flickering in the murk.

Lucine guided Estelle through the tunnel. They found the airlock, but the passage had shifted; the hatch was atop a shoulder-high ledge. Estelle threw her arms over and scrambled, but couldn’t make the climb. She tried a leap and only bounced backward.

“Ten seconds,” hissed Csilla’s voice, over their communicators. Zora fought off another pair of guards. Io’s tentacles and Lucine’s telekinesis pressed Estelle up to the ledge. Maura reached down to take her hand. Straya unsealed the door and Estelle let herself go limp as her team hauled her back to the ship.


--


NEXT WEEK: The slow knife penetrates the steak
 

Phat94

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I'm sure Estelle can handle a few tendrils, but small meals? Thank goodness she was saved. I'm impressed they got her to fit through the hatch. Good stuff!
 
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Will we see more IO action? I feel like she is going to swoop in and take out the assassin on the brink of disaster.
 

Venjance

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Poor gal, just when she was about to kick her self loathing. At least she's surrounded herself with a crew that both supports her and enjoys her escapades! Thoroughly enjoying this!
 

Marlow

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Chapter 18

A streak of orange and blue lit the stars as the stealth-ship accelerated to interstellar speed. It shot away into the void and the Golden Goose was left reeling, smoldering and adrift but still intact. The crew gasped for breath in the sudden quiet.

One last awkward-looking jellyfish appeared on the bridge. A dozen guns swung around, but it was only Csilla. She quickly transformed back into herself, looking offended. “You’re welcome, by the way. It worked.”

“Our sensors were knocked out when Indestructible exploded,” Lieutenant Caelius explained. “What did you do?”

“The princess snuck me onto the stealth-ship’s bridge,” said Straya. “Maura and Zora kept the guards busy.”

Maura was still scraping jellyfish from Zora’s armor. “Best fight I’ve had in months. Ha—still got it.”

“I scrambled the their navigational systems and triggered an emergency escape jump. They should come out somewhere on the far side of the frontier. It’s not something we’ll get away with again, but it should buy us a couple of days.”

“We’ll need to be long gone by then.”

Csilla peered at the broken panels and tangled wiring. “Will we be able to repair all this?”

Caelius moved a fallen chair. “It’ll take some time. Ravenous Maw picked up Indestructible’s escape pods and they’re already heading back to Sphrigon space. The kind of damage they sustained can’t be taken care of out here. We…might want to do the same. We’re lucky no one was killed. Medical’s been working overtime as it is.” He hesitated before sitting. “Can someone move Io? She’s got a tentacle on my console.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Zora. “She ate four or five of the jellyfish guards.”

Io belched.

“She would’ve tried to eat the big one if we’d let her. But at least the bastard has something to remember us by.” She folded her arms. “He wasn’t expecting his puny human prey to have help.”

“That was General Tissaphernes,” recalled Csilla. “It was his goons that picked me up when I was on the run. That’s something to be proud of, at least: you’ve caused enough trouble they’re sending hunters like him after you. What do you say to that, captain?” She glanced around. “Captain? Where is she?”





Estelle was in the exercise deck, staring at all the unused training equipment. She slumped against the wall and tapped her communicator.

“Captain’s log, stardate 402.06.14. I am officially too fat for away missions.”

“There are no actual regulations to that effect,” said Starling.

“I was useless. The whole crew being marched into the brig, depending on me...and I couldn’t even get up that stupid ledge without all of them doing it for me.”

The android sat beside her. “You would prefer they not help?”

“I would prefer not needing the help. I’m the captain. I’m the one who’s supposed to be, you know, doing the helping.” She groped her belly. “Some captain. Can’t even squeeze all this into the uniform.”

“I have observed, in my time aboard this ship and aboard many others, that combined efforts are universally more successful, more efficient, and more rewarding for all involved than individual efforts. Collaboration is optimal. I cannot comprehend why it would be upsetting.”

“It’s upsetting because…well, look at me. How am I supposed to run around fighting aliens like this? My armor stopped fitting forty pounds ago.”

Starling considered her stomach. “Captain, you were a similar mass at the conclusion of our previous mission together. Despite the weight you gained on LV-237, you were fully capable of handling several objectively dangerous situations. That crew trusted you. Indeed, at the time, you felt it was your willingness to share in their indulgent habits that had earned their trust. If you had not done so, then it would not be hyperbole to suggest that neither you nor I would have survived the mission.”

“Or we got lucky.”

“True, the odds of success were not in our favor at the time. The other survivors chose to place their trust in you despite the odds. So has this crew.”

“And I rewarded that trust by stuffing my face and watching alien porn in my cabin instead of…whatever. Instead of captaining. I should have seen this coming.”

“It was a cloaked ship. You could not have seen it coming.”

She tossed away her communicator. “They need a leader, not a lump. I’m going to resign my command and then go ride that laser-bike until I’m useful again.”

“I would advise against that course of action.”

“I’ll note your comments in the log. Now go away.”

“As you command. But before I ‘go away,’ captain, may I describe for your log a theory I have developed?”

Estelle glared.

“I have observed the crew. I have observed your alien companions. I have observed our allies. I do not believe that they have chosen to follow and assist you because of your prowess in combat, nor your tactical expertise, nor even your starfaring experience.”

“Alright, I give up. What do they follow me for, oh wise and intuitive android?”

“They know that for their whole lives the Confederation and institutions like it have told them they do not deserve to have more than they are given. They have been told it is wrong to want more. They have been told that deprivation is a punishment they have earned.” He tapped her gut. “They fight for you, Captain, because every pound you gain is a victory against everything they have been told.”





The senior staff sat down to dinner in the officers’ lounge; another large meal, but now a quiet one. Much of the furniture was still overturned or broken, decorations had been knocked from the walls, and the floor was splotched with jellyfish slime. Even the gentle hum of the engines was muted.

The away team stared and poked at their quadrotriticale noodles, but no one seemed willing to dig in. No one had touched the levitating garlic bread or the warp-emulsified soup. They traded the occasional nervous glance, but they all looked up at once as Estelle entered the room.

The captain had her uniform on again, or as on as she cared to have it. The jacket was undone, the pants were riding low, and the undershirt was riding up. She made no effort to tug anything back into place as she huffed across the lounge. She pulled a chair over to join the table and sat with a heavy creak.

She slouched back and folded her hands over her plump middle. “Status?”

Caelius blushed and cleared his throat. “Emergency repairs should be complete by eleven-hundred hours tomorrow. By then we’ll have enough reserve power to start back toward Sphrigon space.”

“We’re not going back.”

They sat up. “Captain, we’re in no shape to fight our way through the clusters ahead. They’re all fortified Confederation areas. Our escorts have already headed home.”

“And we’re headed home, lieutenant. Our home. I’m not giving up on that. This Tissaphernes guy found us out here. He knows us. If going back to the Sphrigons is our best tactical move, that’s where he’ll look for us next. While he’s busy doing that…I say we take the long way around. Slip into the Rim’s uncharted reaches.” She glanced around the table. “Any objections?”

There were no objections.

“It’ll take us out of Confederation space completely. Places their ships never even visit. Now, none of it’s on our star-maps. There’s no knowing what we’ll find in any of those systems. But if we can make it around to the other side…we’ll be right at the New Kansas spacegate. I trust this crew to handle it. And I hope you’ll all still be willing to help us.”

“It’s our pleasure, captain.”

“It won’t be easy. From now on I’ll be coordinating away missions from the bridge. Straya, I want the engine stabilized and ready for our first jump by tomorrow night. Lucine, work out some way to give us an edge over their cloaking device. I don’t want to be interrupted in the middle of dessert ever again. Maura, Zora, we’ll need an overhaul of airlock security. Those jellyfish got aboard way too easily. Io, uh…Io, keep digesting. Steward?”

The kitchen steward looked up from her garlic bread. “Captain?”

“Get cooking. This pasta smells incredible.” She patted her belly. “And the sleeper has awakened.”

--


Programming note: no chapter next week. Going to take a short intermission to finish revisions on the next stretch of our story. Many of these upcoming episodes will be a little longer than usual as we follow the Goose's travels through the mysterious uncharted parts of the galaxy Where No One Has Gorged Before. Thank you all for reading and for all your kind feedback so far!


IN TWO WEEKS: The Fattest Frontier
 
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Chapter 18

A streak of orange and blue lit the stars as the stealth-ship accelerated to interstellar speed. It shot away into the void and the Golden Goose was left reeling, smoldering and adrift but still intact. The crew gasped for breath in the sudden quiet.

One last awkward-looking jellyfish appeared on the bridge. A dozen guns swung around, but it was only Csilla. She quickly transformed back into herself, looking offended. “You’re welcome, by the way. It worked.”

“Our sensors were knocked out when Indestructible exploded,” Lieutenant Caelius explained. “What did you do?”

“The princess snuck me onto the stealth-ship’s bridge,” said Straya. “Maura and Zora kept the guards busy.”

Maura was still scraping jellyfish from Zora’s armor. “Best fight I’ve had in months. Ha—still got it.”

“I scrambled the their navigational systems and triggered an emergency escape jump. They should come out somewhere on the far side of the frontier. It’s not something we’ll get away with again, but it should buy us a couple of days.”

“We’ll need to be long gone by then.”

Csilla peered at the broken panels and tangled wiring. “Will we be able to repair all this?”

Caelius moved a fallen chair. “It’ll take some time. Ravenous Maw picked up Indestructible’s escape pods and they’re already heading back to Sphrigon space. The kind of damage they sustained can’t be taken care of out here. We…might want to do the same. We’re lucky no one was killed. Medical’s been working overtime as it is.” He hesitated before sitting. “Can someone move Io? She’s got a tentacle on my console.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Zora. “She ate four or five of the jellyfish guards.”

Io belched.

“She would’ve tried to eat the big one if we’d let her. But at least the bastard has something to remember us by.” She folded her arms. “He wasn’t expecting his puny human prey to have help.”

“That was General Tissaphernes,” recalled Csilla. “It was his goons that picked me up when I was on the run. That’s something to be proud of, at least: you’ve caused enough trouble they’re sending hunters like him after you. What do you say to that, captain?” She glanced around. “Captain? Where is she?”





Estelle was in the exercise deck, staring at all the unused training equipment. She slumped against the wall and tapped her communicator.

“Captain’s log, stardate 402.06.14. I am officially too fat for away missions.”

“There are no actual regulations to that effect,” said Starling.

“I was useless. The whole crew being marched into the brig, depending on me...and I couldn’t even get up that stupid ledge without all of them doing it for me.”

The android sat beside her. “You would prefer they not help?”

“I would prefer not needing the help. I’m the captain. I’m the one who’s supposed to be, you know, doing the helping.” She groped her belly. “Some captain. Can’t even squeeze all this into the uniform.”

“I have observed, in my time aboard this ship and aboard many others, that combined efforts are universally more successful, more efficient, and more rewarding for all involved than individual efforts. Collaboration is optimal. I cannot comprehend why it would be upsetting.”

“It’s upsetting because…well, look at me. How am I supposed to run around fighting aliens like this? My armor stopped fitting forty pounds ago.”

Starling considered her stomach. “Captain, you were a similar mass at the conclusion of our previous mission together. Despite the weight you gained on LV-237, you were fully capable of handling several objectively dangerous situations. That crew trusted you. Indeed, at the time, you felt it was your willingness to share in their indulgent habits that had earned their trust. If you had not done so, then it would not be hyperbole to suggest that neither you nor I would have survived the mission.”

“Or we got lucky.”

“True, the odds of success were not in our favor at the time. The other survivors chose to place their trust in you despite the odds. So has this crew.”

“And I rewarded that trust by stuffing my face and watching alien porn in my cabin instead of…whatever. Instead of captaining. I should have seen this coming.”

“It was a cloaked ship. You could not have seen it coming.”

She tossed away her communicator. “They need a leader, not a lump. I’m going to resign my command and then go ride that laser-bike until I’m useful again.”

“I would advise against that course of action.”

“I’ll note your comments in the log. Now go away.”

“As you command. But before I ‘go away,’ captain, may I describe for your log a theory I have developed?”

Estelle glared.

“I have observed the crew. I have observed your alien companions. I have observed our allies. I do not believe that they have chosen to follow and assist you because of your prowess in combat, nor your tactical expertise, nor even your starfaring experience.”

“Alright, I give up. What do they follow me for, oh wise and intuitive android?”

“They know that for their whole lives the Confederation and institutions like it have told them they do not deserve to have more than they are given. They have been told it is wrong to want more. They have been told that deprivation is a punishment they have earned.” He tapped her gut. “They fight for you, Captain, because every pound you gain is a victory against everything they have been told.”





The senior staff sat down to dinner in the officers’ lounge; another large meal, but now a quiet one. Much of the furniture was still overturned or broken, decorations had been knocked from the walls, and the floor was splotched with jellyfish slime. Even the gentle hum of the engines was muted.

The away team stared and poked at their quadrotriticale noodles, but no one seemed willing to dig in. No one had touched the levitating garlic bread or the warp-emulsified soup. They traded the occasional nervous glance, but they all looked up at once as Estelle entered the room.

The captain had her uniform on again, or as on as she cared to have it. The jacket was undone, the pants were riding low, and the undershirt was riding up. She made no effort to tug anything back into place as she huffed across the lounge. She pulled a chair over to join the table and sat with a heavy creak.

She slouched back and folded her hands over her plump middle. “Status?”

Caelius blushed and cleared his throat. “Emergency repairs should be complete by eleven-hundred hours tomorrow. By then we’ll have enough reserve power to start back toward Sphrigon space.”

“We’re not going back.”

They sat up. “Captain, we’re in no shape to fight our way through the clusters ahead. They’re all fortified Confederation areas. Our escorts have already headed home.”

“And we’re headed home, lieutenant. Our home. I’m not giving up on that. This Tissaphernes guy found us out here. He knows us. If going back to the Sphrigons is our best tactical move, that’s where he’ll look for us next. While he’s busy doing that…I say we take the long way around. Slip into the Rim’s uncharted reaches.” She glanced around the table. “Any objections?”

There were no objections.

“It’ll take us out of Confederation space completely. Places their ships never even visit. Now, none of it’s on our star-maps. There’s no knowing what we’ll find in any of those systems. But if we can make it around to the other side…we’ll be right at the New Kansas spacegate. I trust this crew to handle it. And I hope you’ll all still be willing to help us.”

“It’s our pleasure, captain.”

“It won’t be easy. From now on I’ll be coordinating away missions from the bridge. Straya, I want the engine stabilized and ready for our first jump by tomorrow night. Lucine, work out some way to give us an edge over their cloaking device. I don’t want to be interrupted in the middle of dessert ever again. Maura, Zora, we’ll need an overhaul of airlock security. Those jellyfish got aboard way too easily. Io, uh…Io, keep digesting. Steward?”

The kitchen steward looked up from her garlic bread. “Captain?”

“Get cooking. This pasta smells incredible.” She patted her belly. “And the sleeper has awakened.”

--


Programming note: no chapter next week. Going to take a short intermission to finish revisions on the next stretch of our story. Many of these upcoming episodes will be a little longer than usual as we follow the Goose's travels through the mysterious uncharted parts of the galaxy Where No One Has Gorged Before. Thank you all for reading and for all your kind feedback so far!


IN TWO WEEKS: The Fattest Frontier

The excellence continues! Just curious Marlowe: what percentage of the story would you estimate has been posted so far? I’m torn between wanting to know the ending and wanting the adventures of Estelle to continue forever.

Also, here’s to more fattening of Estelle’s three companions, Maura, Zora, and Straya, but especially the two warrioresses.

Keep up the great work.
 

Marlow

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The excellence continues! Just curious Marlowe: what percentage of the story would you estimate has been posted so far? I’m torn between wanting to know the ending and wanting the adventures of Estelle to continue forever.

Also, here’s to more fattening of Estelle’s three companions, Maura, Zora, and Straya, but especially the two warrioresses.

Keep up the great work.
Don't want to spoil anything, but I can say we're still a long way from New Kansas. Plenty of adventuring left!
 

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