#chubbykanmuses

The tum grows in tandem with the scope of her plans.

"Mn~ That's because I'm small right now~ You wouldn't recognize me a month or so ago, really... fuh~"

And she was *happy* to oblige. At this point she felt like she didn't even need to prod the girl for another bowl, another mug of beer, just placing them on the table within reach of Yuugumo's pudgy hands and waiting for her to grab them almost unconsciously...

"Fifth one, master~"

She gestured a "seven" at the chef instead, who gave her a knowing grin and prepared enough to *truly* fill the cute fatty~

And eat she did.

She wasn’t as rapid anymore, but over the next 30 or so minutes she had downed all 3 additional bowls and downed twice as many beers.

The veneer of the respectable woman was getting washed away with an ungodly amount of food and even more booze, and by the time she finished all of that, she looked truly deteriorated and exhausted.

“Hnhfffff… UuuUURRP… ngffff… theshe were… hnhff delicious… hahh… but I need variety… hahh… something else, now.” She didn’t ask, she commanded, and quite disrespectfully waved the empty bowl and empty beer to emphasize she wanted different of both.

Gone was the respectful lady, and in her place an entitled brat, who believed all of her efforts in life warranted spoiling.

Heywood groaned as she stumbled down the steps of the plane and onto Nemuro.

Usually she would’ve tried to be more careful, but the weird robotic staff on the… admittedly ludicrously expansive private jet she bought herself using Pearl Harbor’s funds came with a few bottles of booze, and the alcoholic financial manager couldn’t resist after such a stressful week.

Once she stepped onto the base’s floor, she allowed the bottle of champagne to drop to the ground.

Adding more, and more into that poor, poor tummy. So much it feels like she'll explode with so much as a pinprick~

"Sh-Shihgki... glrkk... N-no mhooarr... Nnnfff! D-dohhn't wahnna... pop... mmmnghh..."

How's Rosa doing after all those sweets?

"Haauuhh... haaauuuhh... uuuggghh... HOOoOUURPH!~"

Guuurrrrggllllee~

It honestly wasn't shocking to anyone that within the even amount of time she was given, all those damn sweets that she'd finish all of them like a prized hog hungry for oats. Despite how much Rosa wanted to say that she wasn't anywhere close to being as gluttonous as everyone says she is, despite her own mind warning her that she was gonna destroy this box in an hour, despite everything in the world telling her that she was only going to look like a fat ass... Unfortunately, she simply couldn't keep her stomach at bay. Now here she was. Bloated, stuffed, and on her back like a beached whale in nothing but her bra and underwear.

So much for being "the classy one" left in the family...

Mutually-assured fattening.

If you haven’t eaten yet she’ll scold you for neglecting eating at proper times or eating 3 meals a day. But in her own case she eats just about 6 meals and then some.

Something wet lapped at her boots. Mustering what little strength she had, the Martian vessel wheezed in pain as she brought her head up, vision filled with stars, to come face-to-face with the endless expanse of an ocean reflecting the lavender of the sky above. She was laying in a pit of sand, a brief survey showing splintered metal, fragments of hull, smoking drive cones, and the twisted remains of her turret. There was no sign of her landing ships, and not a soul stirred within.

Her stomach revolted as she tried to raise herself further, brittle bones born in space refusing to hold her weight as she was sent crashing back to the wet sand beneath. A cry so hoarse with agony, it couldn't escape the filter of her helmet's microphone.

Before pain took her once more, she caught sight of a figure floating above her, long, silvery hair billowing in the wind.

It was saying something, but the world went dark before she heard a sound.

- - -

"-Don't have the facilities to treat her. I'm different and can be handled by normal repair ships for the most part, but she's from a place where the rules mattered. I apologize for leaving her here in your care, but you're the only one who can-"

The unfamiliar voice roused her from the dark, though when she opened her eyes, it still greeted her. Her awareness of the voice dimmed, drowned out by pain with the heavy thumps of combat boots punctuating her migraine. A peculiar sting of rubbing alcohol greeted her nose, which could only mean one thing.

An infirmary.

Mind truly in the gutter~

“I pin the blame on Melly, Yomi, and Krab for putting me back into the mood of wanting to be a fat fuck again. Then there’s you Shiki, who’s just as bad with how you encourage and tease.”