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Filling out the Sideline: Bloating at the beach (Beta copy)
🕑 Added 2020-01-04 04:18:51 +0000 UTC“I don’t see why I can’t go!!” WA2000 exclaimed, her face as red as a cherry with a scarlet puckered pout. She huffed and puffed, hardly able to cross her arms over her tubby breasts.
“It’s a beach vacation,” Commander Cheng explained again. “You know you can’t be seen. The others have been working really hard, they deserve a day off.”
“I deserve a day off!!” WA shouted, stamping a hammy leg. Even the small act of being upset seemed to cost her an excess amount of effort, as sweat beads began to form upon her head. She swayed with a hearty “Hmph!” turning away from her Commander. Her rotund figure twisted a moment slower, throwing off her own center of gravity when she tried to stop on a dime and ended up stumbling. It seemed only to further embarrass the scarlet faced T-doll, which pissed her off. “I don’t even want to go anyway! You’ll just have t-t-to… you’ll never see my bikini!”
“You have a bikini?” the Commander raised an eyebrow. Then it went further. “You fit in a bikini?”
WA moved with the speed of a girl a quarter of her size and Commander Cheng’s cheek exploded into a fiery flash of pain when he was struck by a butterball slap.
“Yow!” he stumbled back, looking up to see WA’s enormous rear-end stomping away, the pale jiggle of each butt cheek visible beneath her sheer black tights. “WA!” he called after her. “Wait!”
She didn’t.
Commander Cheng found himself inwardly cursing the amount of free will the obese doll now had. He didn’t mean it, naturally preferring his special adjunct to be able to make her own choices, and be as fluffy and tubby as she wanted to be. But things were simpler when she had to strain herself just to smack him and couldn’t walk away.
His earpiece buzzed and for a moment he thought he was experiencing shell shock before a matronly voice came through the other side. “Commander, I’ve assembled the girls. We’re waiting for you at the vehicle depot, along with our supplies. Make sure you packed your sunscreen~”
The Commander raised his hand to his ear. “I hear you, Springfield. I’ll be right over.”
“Gr, please, put down that beach ball,” he heard Springfield’s voice admonishing another of the T-dolls before her communicator cut out and he was left in his silent office.
He sighed, taking his bag over his shoulder before heading on out. Springfield always referred to the others as girls, even though she was certainly under Griffin’s indoctrination. It was just another sign, just like his comrade Commander Winters had told him. Beneath everything, they remembered.
The exterior office was empty, which meant WA had snuck out again. She was uncommonly graceful for a person that weighed… actually, Cheng was unsure of her weight. He thought about asking her, then decided that he’d rather not get slapped again. Or worse, flattened.
But then… a part of him might.
The Commander walked through the halls and down to the stairwell, passing by a group of busy working T-dolls along the way who were chatting about Miss Kalina and receiving new outfits. He snorted to himself, grumbling about unfair gambling practices, but in reality he knew that the Christmas outfit he’d gotten for WA had been worth every penny.
When he reached the vehicle depot, Springfield had each of the others all sitting in a circle. She wore a massive white sunhat with a deep blue ribbon tied around the crest. A white top was tied over her large chest, from which a dark pair of sunglasses hung, and teal shawl covered most of her legs, though the dark blue bikini bottoms were clear underneath. A brunet girl with olive green eyes, Springfield was the most tender person the Commander had encountered, aside from his own mother.
“Don’t go running off on your own when we get there!” she was instructing the other T-dolls. “This is going to be our first time out to the western coast in quite some time. The beaches still have barbered wire in some spots, and others are marked with landmines. We’ll all stay as a group until we can be sure none of us are going to trigger any traps.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the others replied.
“And if one of us were to step on a landmine?” Springfield prompted.
A hand went up. A small girl with heterochromatic red and blue eyes grinned devilishly, sweeping her long brown hair back as she declared, “We get blown sky high!”
A few others snickered, but Springfield was not amused. “Gr Mk23,” she frowned, “please. You are on this trip as a guest, I will not be entertain your little pranks.”
Mk23’s grin tightened until she noticed the Commander appear at Springfield’s shoulder and her smug profile fell into an embarrassed fear.
“Mk23, are you being a little imp again?” he asked.
She clasped her arms before her, squeezing her breasts with her bicep and twisting innocently on her rump. “Noooo…”
The Commander sighed before dropping it. “Does everyone have their things?” he asked the group at large.
Ten T-dolls chimed in chorus, “Yes, Commander!”
“Alright, good. Let’s go!”
******************************************************************************
It didn’t take long for them to do a clean sweep of the beach.
IDW and Scorpion, two lightweight and evasive SMG designators, cleared most of the ground just by running around excitedly playing tag the moment they got off of the truck, despite Springfield’s protests. The others established a quick Forward Operations Base out of beach towels, umbrellas, and a couple folding tables upon which watermelon, lemonade, soda, and countless other sugar snacks were distributed. Then, all assembled, they were formally dispatched with their order for the day.
Relax. Have fun on the beach, go for a swim in the water, or even just stay back and suntan. Most spent some time stuffing themselves on soft yummy pretzels that were covered with cheese, or some of the chocolate candies that had been sent to them by a generous donor in Office 505.
Lee Enfield, one of the most mature operators in Griffin, even cracked a smile of her own when Scorpion poured ice cubes down M14’s back and the young girls sprinted off down the beach, M14 howling threats. “Get back here you one-eyed brat! We’re going to shove that rose down your throat!!”
Commander Cheng rested on a chair beneath an umbrella, watching the girls having fun and feeling absolutely miserable. How could things honestly be the way that they are? The top brass at G&K had issued material to all Command personnel upon achieving their position. The doctrine packet referred to the T-dolls as weapons. Loosed arrows, thrown spears.
What sort of loosed arrow needs a day at the beach to relax and recover?
He missed WA. She understood.
“Commander?”
A voice summoned him from his thoughts. Springfield stood before him, holding a clear two liter of some off-brand soda.
“Are you well? You seem quite melancholy…”
“Ah, yeah…” the Commander shrugged. “Just lost in thought. Thinking about our enemy.”
“Mhhhhhm,” Springfield nodded. “Sangvis has been quite the problem.”
That wasn’t who he’d been referring to.
The matronly T-doll then did something unexpected. She lifted the two-liter bottle to her lips, and she drank. Without any cup, nor without any hesitation, Springfield drank from the bottle as if it were a fountain. Deep heavy swallows cascaded down into her tummy, her throat pulsing with each loaded mouthful. She must have gone into the water at some point because she was soaking wet, her white top showing clearly though to her skin and sticking to her so well it looked almost as if she were nude from the hips up. And as she drank, something wild began to happen.
Her belly, usually so trim and firm, looked soft. With each chug, more pop spilled into her tum, until she’d drank nearly half of the bottle. “E-errm, Springfield,” the Commander tried to hail her attention.
Her belly pushed forward through the gap of her top, a tight little drum over her deep blue shawl. Finally, she lowered the bottle from her lips and loosed a satisfied sigh. “What was I…? Oh, yes. Sang-*Uuurrp*!”
The belch exploded out of Springfield’s mouth, as loud an unladylike as a landmine that the Commander surely believed had just popped beneath his chair.
“Oh, dear… sorry about that,” Springfield said. Her arms moved in a strange and disconnected way from her body, bringing the bottle back up as she spoke. “I was talk abo- mhgmmfff!” The girl was suddenly silenced when the bottle was trust to her mouth, tilted all the way back and rushing down into her.
“U-uh, S-Springfield?”
Small noises of distress wavered from the lady, and her belly swelled further outward. One of the buttons on her tight shirt popped off, landing in the Commander’s lap. He gaped, transfixed as she drank more and more before the bottle was empty. Sparkles of fizz were on her mouth when the bottle fell away, her eyes crossing in discomfort and one of her hands falling to her inflated tummy. “*Buuuuuuuurrrp* B-bwah, Commander,” Springfield shook her head, her eyes going wide she began to walk away, taking huge exaggerated steps back towards the snacks table. “T-there’s something wrong with my system!”
The Commander watched her, swollen potbelly quivering against gravity’s hold, marching awkwardly and seizing another bottle. He looked around, saw that none of the other girls were even in sight.
“Commander! Heeeelp!” Springfield whined, not even looking at him as she lifted the next bottle to her lips.
He moved as quickly as his weirded out legs could carry him, hurrying across the sand while Springfield’s belly grew more and more taunt. He could practically see all the soda inside of her sloshing around while she tried, in vain, to pull the bottle from her lips. Another burp was forced up, but the pouring didn’t stop, her arms simply pulled forward and the soda spilled over her breasts and her belly.
“C-Comman-” she begged before “Mpphh!” when the bottle was replaced.
The Commander reached out, taking the bottle and pulling it away, but Springfield’s finger tightened and would not relent. She fell forward onto her knees, causing him to fall beneath her and her sloshing belly to strike him forcefully on the waist with a wet slapping sound.
His ear suddenly buzzed. “Commander!” A new voice, not Springfield, and it took him a moment to recognize WA. “I’ve got the little brat in my sights. Hold on.”
In her sights? She couldn’t mean-
“W-wait, WA!” he called as a rifle shot rang out over the beach. Then a second, third, and fourth came in quicker succession.
Springfield’s arms suddenly went slack. The bottle fell, slamming into his sternum and causing him to sit up. He gaped, looking for the bullet wound, but Springfield’s olive eyes looked back into his, panting with exertion. A deep scarlet blush covered her nose and her cheeks. “W-wha *URP*” she cut off, another burp from her uncomfortable belly silencing her. He could feel the soda bubbling inside of her and realized her tummy pushed far enough that it mashed against his.
“Springfield,” he asked with care, “are you okay?” he reached forward, taking her by the waist and causing her to gasp. A bubbling rumble and she belched again, this time covering her mouth.
“Oh, my…” she sunk back onto her haunches before gripping her belly with either hand. “Oh, my… Commander, I-I’m so sorry. I couldn’t control… Ooooh.”
She was stuffed from the end of her toes to the tip of her nose. He’d seen that look many times before. “Here,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
His hands found either side of her waist, using his strong grip to position his thumbs. Springfield loosed an “Eek!” of embarrassed surprise but was too stuffed to do much than raise her hands and let the Commander work.
Burbling soda sloshed inside the tight drum of her tum. He felt it pulse upward and push out, and she again covered her mouth as two tiny burps fought their way out, and then she was hiccupping, panting with strained gasps of pleasure and pain while his massage worked her over. She was so tight, not soft at all like his WA pillow was… but Commander Cheng was beginning to understand as the lardy footfall approached from behind.
“The others all bunkered down inside of a cave,” WA informed him. “All except this little urchin.”
The urchin didn’t speak. Commander Cheng turned to see Mk23 with rope tied around her wrists and a bandana tight over her mouth. Then he saw her tummy, which looked even bigger than Springfield’s.
“Do they think they’re under attack?” the Commander asked after his charges.
“Well, I shot at them, so they technically are.”
“W-WA2000?” Springfield mumbled. “What… how did you… why are you so fat?”
WA ignored her. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she came around to Cheng’s side and he released Springfield’s tummy. She fell onto her back, panting and writhing. “Mk23 had this on her arm,” she showed him a huge device with a cuff that would slip over one’s forearm. Most of the device was a massive screen, which was dark until WA tapped on it and the words ‘Sync severed’ appeared in white text. “She was controlling Springfield’s movements.”
Cheng looked it over, completely befuddled. “But… no, that’s not possible. You can’t infiltrate a Doll’s neural cloud. She has to have control of her own movements.”
WA shook her head, her long maroon hair coming around her wide shoulders and laying over her tubby breasts. The Commander could hardly see her over the crest of her own fat tummy. “No,” she denied. “I have control of my movements. They might now. There might be a way to play on Griffin’s programing.”
“Like parapulite…” Commander Cheng looked over the device. “This… this changes everything.”
Mk23 made some small noises from beneath her muffle. The two turned and regaled her and her bloated tummy. “What?” he asked.
WA rolled her eyes. “She can’t speak, dummy!” then stepped forward and ripped the bandana down.
Mk23 gasped, and then released an immense “*UUUUURRRRP!!!!* Mhmf, excuse me…” she giggled.
“Where did you get this?” WA questioned.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, tubby!” Mk23 spat back, her belly quivering as she hopped up towards the taller, wider, WA.
“Tubby?! I’ll show you tubby!!” WA seized Mk23 by the shoulder and dragged her, protesting, towards the drinks table.
“C-Commander?”
He turned back to see Springfield, her hands laid lightly ontop of her throbbing belly, looking up to him from the sand.
“What’s… what’s happened?”
Commander Cheng sighed. He hung his head, looking back to WA as she forced another two-liter bottle over Mk23’s lips and forced the girl to drink. “I believe,” he turned back to Springfield, “that you and Mk23 have just joined our Alpha echelon.”
