Undertaker33
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The Bounty of Peace: Rest
🕑 Added 2021-02-18 05:31:42 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: The following is a small Bounty of Peace short, set directly before the events of the story proper. It can be likened to the Katawa Shorts I've done before, but obviously focusing on Samus and her storyline!
The Patrons' Prompt prequel one-shot, set a few years before these events, will be coming very soon! Please, enjoy!
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Space was, usually, silent. It was cold, uncomfortable, and unforgiving. A slight misstep, a miniscule error, could end any voyage that dared reach out into those midnight stars.
Beneath a mountain of blankets, and a still larger mound of blubber, Samus Aran snored soundly and safely, tucked in her bed while her ship guided itself towards Cherno Station.
Samus used to sleep in a Twin-sized bed, which had always reminded her of her time in the Federation Military. She would lie on her toned stomach, breathing almost silently, with her arm beneath her pillow still holding her blaster. Just in-case.
It was a soldier’s bed, and a soldier’s instinct. An instinct that had died over this long stretch of peace.
Now, Samus couldn’t sleep on her belly. She’d tried for a time, but a spiking weight and a changing waistline slowly turned Samus over until she landed flat on her back, her wobbling belly puffing up and down like a hill of sugary snow. An orange blanket on black bedsheets, Samus slept cuddled up to several plush dolls, her favorite of which was a soft yellow mouse that was almost as round as she was.
Samus snored in the way only a fat woman could. A low, exhausted sounding inhalation followed by a burdensome wheeze. The side-effects of her weight swelling so rapidly, her appetite growing by the meal while her cravings became dangerous. Reckless for her wardrobe, but for Samus…
Even in her bed, even in her dreams, Samus Aran was a fat woman now.
Her long hair was a tangled heap, frizzy and wild around her double-chinned face, but serving like a messy blonde bedsheet beneath her rounded body. Another snore, a slight shuffle with a porcine grunt, and the orange blanket slowly fell to expose the swell of her center.
Samus wore a pajama top to bed, even if she was no longer able to button the silky shirt shut. The shorts that came with it were in one of her drawers, a tear in the waistband that went nearly all the way through, unused and unadjusted despite Samus’ promises that she’d look up how to sew them together. She slept only with her shirt and her extremely large panties, though the undergarments were hidden beneath the woman’s own waist.
Arms packed with meat, a belly lifting and falling with dough, porky legs that were each as round and full as a typical waistline, Samus needed something far larger than a little girl’s Twin-size.
Currently, Samus slept in a Queen-sized bed, but she also had recently formed a contact that was tempting her into a much sweeter deal. The Empress Suite. A full upgrade of her bedroom, her spare bedroom, her entertainment room, the bridge, and they could even replace her canteen with an actual dining center. Samus hadn’t realized how much her ship still looked like a Federation Bog until she realized she could have much of it changed.
No more steel-blue and sharp LED lights that made her eyes ache. If she wanted, she could even have the walls replaced to look like a cabin, or some home on a lake, but that was a bit too much even for her.
Samus liked space. She liked traveling, cruising through the stars while just watching the scenery from her captain’s chair.
She liked helping people… when those jobs turned up. It had been more than five years since a distress call warranted anything more than an electronic jump or a friendly tow. But that was just the reality of it all, as true as the arms of the seat squeezing into her love handles. It wasn’t that Samus couldn’t do those jobs anymore. She, debatably, could… even if she only might claim that to care for her pride.
Those jobs didn’t exist. There were no planet ending plots, no horrible viral outbreaks. At least, none that Samus heard about, and given that in at least one of those instances she was the viral outbreak, she doubted that such issues would escape her attention.
The galaxy was at peace, and Samus would love to get a TV and minifridge installed in her bedroom.
Another shuffle came from the bed, springs whining as the great white woman shifted in her sleep. Like a glacier, her body slowly turned, her thighs rolling onto one another and exposing her backside.
She made a soft noise, a half-wakened grumble, and a hand pawed at her heavy belly. Hunger, as it so often did now, was beginning to wake the woman. She’d have to get up, get dressed, waddle all the way down to her canteen to start making breakfast. The first coherent thoughts that the porky blonde had were of bacon and eggs frying over her stove.
Her stomach released a low, squelching growl.
Yet, there was something much stronger than the fat woman’s hunger. Something far more enticing, which held her with a hold as strong as gravity.
Samus yawned and fell back onto her bottom in the center of her bed. Her fat feet and soft legs kicked easily while her arms went to her sides, stretching Samus out to her full width. The slight sensation of her arms being gripped by the shirt gave Samus a single thought, wondering if she’d ripped another top, before she collapsed back into her familiar position, snatching the blanket and tugging it over herself. Then, blindly grasping for her favorite mouse, she hugged the doll to her exposed chest before returning to a soft, lazy doze.
Her breath came easily. She had been dreaming of nothing and had been enjoying that rest. Waking could wait. Just a little while longer.
No obligations, no responsibilities. No actions needed, no dates to show up for. Samus could sit on her ass eating ice cream bars, watching movies, and cuddling with her little plush dolls. She’d find work somewhere. After all, lazy days and full tummies required a lot of credits to live, but the woman smiled to herself in her sleep.
Samus had earned every moment on the clock, while her mouth earned each calorie that now rest on her hips.
As the warmth and comfort of respite began to return, Samus blinked once, twice, before slowly moving towards softness of space. There were no bestial roars, no burning cold. There was only sweet, relaxing darkness.
Samus drifted towards the center of the dark, ready to fall back into the sweetness of sleep. Only then did she hear it.
In that space of her center, Samus heard the bright whine of a baby Metroid crying out for its mother.
