Salacious Caitlin
Well-Known Member
Sky the Hapless Space Mercenary Gets Fat
by Salacious Caitlin
by Salacious Caitlin
Sky had dreaded the day they would release him, and now that day was here.
He’d tried. He had run in place and tried to do pushups and whatever other exercise he could manage. But the cell on Ganymede Station was tiny, closet-sized, with barely room for a cot and a toilet, and he hadn’t left the cell for three months, and stodgy, heavy meals came in through a slot in the door three times a day.
So, now, the elite mercenary who’d been captured by station security after a gunfight had a soft, jiggling belly that surged out so far that he couldn’t see his feet, and an ass that he could only guess was just as embarrassingly huge and soft by the way it felt when he sat on it, and thighs that rubbed together when he waddled the four steps it took to cross his cell.
And today everyone was going to see that, because he’d been told via the speaker in the door that his release had been negotiated and the extraction team were on their way.
Was he even going to fit through the door?
He had known this was happening. At first, he’d tried to fight it, ashamed of the growing bulge at his waist. But three months, no company, nothing to watch, nothing to read, no room to move around, nothing to do but eat, and so now he was not just fat but extravagantly, ridiculously fat. He actually hadn’t been wearing the latest set of prison-issue clothes they had given him. This morning he had put them on, or sort of on, the shirt straining over his arms and chest and completely surrendering when it came to covering his belly, the pants unzipped and still not covering his ass and about to tear open over his thighs. He took the clothes off, noticing how pudgy his hands were, how his whole body rippled with every movement, how little grunts of effort escaped him as he tried to bend and twist
He had come in here with barely an ounce of extra weight, looking like the highly trained professional he was. Now… They probably won’t even take me back. They’ll sell me to be rendered down for engine lube or something.
There had been one other thing to do during three months of incarceration, but apparently he hadn’t burned many calories doing that, either, and he’d tried to ignore how much of a struggle it was to reach around his burgeoning soft belly, and anyway he had given up on ever being rescued, so why not grow to fill the room, if that was all there was to do?
Well, now he was being rescued, and he dreaded it. He tied the bedsheet around himself, so at least he was covered, and waited.
He sat and worried until a voice he recognized as one of the guards said from the door, “Your ride is here.” The voice sounded… gloating. Gleeful. He wondered if they knew. He’d never found any surveillance gear in the cell, but there had to be something, maybe a pinhead camera.
His cell door opened for the first time in three months. He made sure the sheet covered everything possible – his belly pushed it out like a white, swollen hill – and stood up.
Beyond the door he could see three guards. They were all grinning. Fuck it. Yeah, they know. He couldn’t will himself to vanish into thin (or fat) air, so he moved forward, and fuck I’m really not going to fit through the door.
He did, just, by turning sideways and lifting up his soft belly with both hands and shoving himself through.
He recognized the four people in body armor, with assault guns slung over their backs, as his extraction team. But the squad leader, who was the most beautiful woman Sky had ever seen –well, he hadn’t seen another human for three months, but still, Shan was all muscle and smooth brown skin and shiny dark eyes – said, “Very funny, assholes. Where’s our guy?”
“Um,” he said. “Um, Shan, it’s me.” No. Really. Under a few extra hundred pounds of blubber, it’s me.
Shan’s eyes narrowed, studying his face. She unclipped a wand from her utility belt: a microchip reader. She held it up to the back of his neck. He wondered if maybe it wouldn’t read through however many inches of lard. But it beeped. She looked at its screen.
The guards were snickering. There were more guards now, too, apparently here to see the show.
A muscle twitched in Shan’s jaw. “He’s not walking through the station in a sheet. Get him some clothes.”
“We’re really sorry, Sergeant, or whatever your fancy mercenary rank is,” one of the guards said. Sky recognized the voice: he’d heard it outside his door when food was delivered. “But we don’t have anything bigger. He’s busted right out of the largest size we have.”
The guards were guffawing openly now. Sky pulled the sheet more tightly around himself, which only made it slip and risk putting even more skin on display. They’d taken his clothes through the slot in the door every week and replaced them. Had the sizes progressively been getting bigger? He honestly hadn’t noticed.
And he was getting tired. His knees were feeling shaky.
One of the extraction team noticed. Red, he thought the guy’s name was. He muttered something under his breath to Shan.
“Fine,” Shan said. “And don’t think I don’t know exactly what you did here. Bring a wheelchair.”
What they did? They did something? This wasn’t all his fault? He felt a little better, until he tried to lower himself into the wheelchair and his massive ass got stuck between the arm rests before it reached the seat. By the time Red, Marya, and Li pulled it off him/him out of it, the sheet had slipped several times to reveal his pale, bulging flesh, Shan had her arms crossed and looked like laser beams were about to start shooting out of her eyes, and the guards were doubled over laughing so hard he really hoped they would do themselves an injury.
“Bring something that works,” Shan said. “Right. Fucking. Now.”
They brought a sort of hand cart, maybe used for carrying laundry or supplies. He was able to lie down on that, with the sheet covering his body. He wished it would cover his face, too, but there was no way. He put his arm over his eyes instead.
With Red and Li pushing the cart, Marya clearing the way ahead, and Shan walking beside him, they traveled through the prison and out onto station main deck. Sky risked a glance from under his (fat) forearm. People were staring. Of course they were. It didn’t matter what kind of glares the team gave them.
And, worse, as the wheels of the cart bumped over the deck, he could feel his body start to shake. And quiver. And jiggle. His ass underneath him, his thighs, his chest, his cheeks, but most especially his belly. And that, in turn, felt… good. The part of him that all that soft weight was pressing down on from above and pillowing from below felt very, very good. And every time the vibrations running through him increased, it felt better. Oh please for fuck’s sake not right here in front of everybody. The cart went over a bump. He let out a little moan.
“I know what they did to you,” Shan said. “They probably gave you the weight-gain drugs they feed to sex workers meant for the fat fetish trade. And I bet they fed you five or six times a day, didn’t they?”
“Maybe? I lost track of time,” said Sky, remembering how much fun it had been to stuff himself full when there had been absolutely nothing else to do. “Oh!” as the cart seemed to take on an even more distracting vibration.
“You OK?” Shan asked.
“Um. Yeah.”
By the time they were safely through the airlock into their ship, Sky was in a cold sweat. At last, finally, the pleasurably torturous movement stopped. He was able, with the help of all four of the team, to roll to his feet and stagger to a flight couch.
“Um,” he said. “So I guess this is kind of bad, huh?”
“Embarrassing for the company,” said Li. “They’re not here, though.”
“Really fatter than I thought anybody could get in just three months,” said Marya. “It’s kind of impressive.”
“Even kind of hot,” said Red.
“And not permanent,” said Shan. “Back at base, the med techs will be able to reverse the effects pretty quickly. Of course, they’ll also prescribe you a low-calorie diet and constant exercise.”
“Great,” Sky muttered. “No… No, really, great.”
“But first.” Shan had a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“Huh?”
“Lie back.”
He did. From that position, all he could see was his sheet-covered mountain of belly and the ceiling. Then the four team members appeared in his view, standing over him, smiling.
“Extraction teams,” Shan said, “are authorized to offer a wide range of emergency assistance.” She put a hand on his belly. Gave it a pat. Then a shake. “You look to us like you need a little help with something.” And she pulled the sheet off him, exposing all the bulges and rolls and dimples he’d been trying to hide.
Four sets of hands on him: squeezing, jiggling, exploring, finding. “Oh! Oh, yeah, I do, I really, definitely need help…”
Hands progressed to mouths. At some point, armor came off, then clothes. Not long afterward, Red went and got the spray-can of whipped chocolate-flavored caffeine drink topping.
“Oh! Yes! Yes, yes… mmmf… yes… mmmmf…”
If it always ends this way, I’m getting captured every single time
The End
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