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Filling out the Frontline Chapter 1: 707 Alpha Echalon
🕑 Added 2020-01-04 04:04:10 +0000 UTCSpas-12 was considered by most of Griffin personnel to be quite a hefty girl. Her navy-blue shirt strained at the buttons round her perky chest, while her pleated miniskirt exposed her smooth thighs, looking juicy where her matching blue stockings squished into them.
Spas’s affliction was caused by the curvaceous girl’s heavy appetite. Her doughy body bobbed from side to side while she tottered down the bright, lengthy halls in the Griffin Command post of Kemerovo, now known officially as Sector 11. She carried a small stack of boxes that was sending her stomach through heavy reverberations.
In a similar way, her snow colored hair voluminously bounced up and down, tied in a pair of pigtails round her shoulders. Shotgun shells adorned her uniform in a variety of unsuspecting places while she deftly carried the weapon that was her namesake laid across her arms, beneath the stack of boxes.
Her stomach whined and she felt a higher pitch emanate from her mouth. “Oooh, it’s no fair…” her ruby eyes fell to the boxes she carried. “Why does the Commander have me bringing him doughnuts? I’d rather be at ballistics training than be so taunted.”
Spas did not enjoy being shot, but she enjoyed the duty of food fetcher even less. The girl was focused on her task, and even more intently upon the smell of the doughnuts, that she had not noticed the lack of any personnel upon floor number 7. Indeed, when she finally arrived at Office #707 and pushed open the door, she didn’t even comprehend the lack of Griffin staff manning the empty desks. She cried over the delicious treats like a puppy dog while approaching the interior office door, sworn to uphold her duties and yet plagued with programming tempting her to just reach in and take a few doughnuts for herself.
She collected herself and knocked thrice on the door with a heavy heart. It was then that she noticed that the blinds had been pulled shut over the windowed door. Only the inscription, ‘Commander Winters’, was visible. She was further surprised when she heard an accented female voice call, “Come in!”
Spas struggled with the doorknob, twisting the silver handle and thrusting the door open. Darkness spilled forth from the office like a suffocating miasma, and for a moment, Spas could feel it wrapping around her soft thighs, as if to pull her deeper in. Then, she noticed a faint glow coming from inside, then another, and she spotted the red uniform and cap of Commander Winters as he sat at his desk, writing by lamplight in the dark interior of the building.
“Oh good, Spas,” said the female voice. It took Spas a moment to place the Eastern European accent.
“Mosin-Nagant?” Spas asked, squinting into the dim room. “Is that you?”
“Of course it is me,” came Mosin’s voice. “Now come in and close the door, you are going to blind RFB.”
“Is RFB hurt?” she asked. Her nature of protector came to the surface, and Spas did as she was ordered, catching the door with her foot and closing it behind her. Darkness spread over the girl’s poor sight. She began to blink her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
“Only her pride,” chuckled Mosin. “Here, allow me to help you with those.”
A sudden massive shape appeared to Spas, moving forth from the darkness. The girl would have dropped the boxes of doughnuts had a pair of doughy arms not reached and caught them from the bottom. Even more impressive was the doughball they were attached to.
Spas’s eyes fluttered. “M-Mosin??”
The doughball loosed a husky chuckle, causing her smooth chin to tuck into her fat neck while her ample belly jostled upwards and downward. Her white coat was open, revealing a tightly pulled striped sweater tucked into her wide white skirt, which sat high round her waist. Her pale skin merged with her uniform, briefly giving her the appearance of being even larger, but as Spas’s eyes adjusted, she could easily tell which parts were the girl’s body by how much they bounced. “You sound surprised,” Mosin said. “I can’t say I blame you. I saw my reflection in a mirror the other day, and I quite surprised myself.”
She brushed a hand through her long blonde hair, and Spas realized she wasn’t wearing her usual white ushanka. She was far beyond plump, even far beyond fat. Her breasts pushed forth, pulling the stripes of her sweater wide though resting atop of a far larger tummy. Her hips caused her light silhouette to look even larger, springing forth from the darkness with her apple shaped body. “What… happened?” Spas asked, unable to take her eyes off of the girl’s stomach.
There was a low rumble from Mosin’s tummy as she inhaled a deep whiff of the boxes of doughnuts. “Later,” she waved away Spas’s question. “Go and sit with the Commander and finish your paperwork, we’re starving.”
“We?” Spas asked.
“Would you stop asking questions?” came a fresh voice. Spas turned to see another immensely fat girl kneeling over the back of a nearby couch, glaring daggers in her direction. She wore a tiny top that left little to the imagination in her chest. The round crest of her belly was exposed in dim glow of the light that emanated from the television behind. In the girl’s short and dark brown hair, a glimmer hinted a pair of dark sunglasses and, while she wasn’t wearing her standard fluffy leather jacket, Spas could immediately identify her.
“G-grizzly?!” she stammered.
“Of course, it’s me. Now hurry up!” the girl shot back. “You’re gonna make us wait!”
“Yeah!” called a third voice. There was a sudden explosion of sound as the television changed, and a cheery tune began to emanate from the speakers while the camera twisted around the top of what looked to be a racetrack. The third figure revealed herself to Spas when RFB paused the game and made a great deal of effort to rise from her prone position upon the couch. The obese girl grunted and groaned thrice to just pull herself into a sit, and then had to push herself further to stand upon a pair of legs with thighs as round as tree trunks, and assuredly twice as heavy.
RFB wore a minuscule dress, which tugged up past her hips when she bent over, folding her belly over itself so she could clear off a junk food laden table while Mosin waddled to her, carrying the boxes. Spas could see the dark line of Mosin’s panties through the thinly stretched stockings, and her mouth dropped further when she saw how RFB’s pale moon eclipsed the light of the television.
“Y-you are all so… so fat!” Spas declared.
“Spas-12.” The voice commanded her attention, and she felt herself straightening out to the formal recognition from the Griffin elite personnel. “Come, have a seat,” bade Commander Winters.
“You hear that?” Grizzly poked a finger into RFB’s round belly while Spas slowly walked to the Commander. “She thinks you’re fat!”
RFB batted away at Grizzly’s sausage-like finger. “She was talking about Marshmallow-Nougat, obviously,” RFB said playfully taunting the blonde woman.
“Don’t make me confiscate your share of the doughnuts,” Mosin broke in. “Commander put me in charge.”
“She’ll do it, too. You can tell because she’s the fat one.” Grizzly teased.
Spas thunked into her chair, openly gawking as the obese girls taunted one another. RFB snapped open a can, the label of which Spas could not see, and began guzzling sugary soda with the obvious intent to finish it in one chug. Mosin, meanwhile, sagged into a seat on the couch. The girl’s rotund rear caused the springs to let out a pitiful whine while she leaned back, placed her arms to either side of her belly, and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Mosin said, “I don’t think that means much coming from a doll that can’t even touch her toes around her tire.” She then took a clear bag of marshmallows from the table and began popping one after another into her mouth.
RFB unpaused the game and the camera centered around some strange looking animal girl sitting inside of a colorful racing kart.
As Spas’s eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, the earlier feeling of overwhelming darkness faded. A comfortable glow took its place, with the light-hearted girls poking fun at one another with wide smiles and good graces. The room began to feel intimate and cozy.
“Spas?” the Commander bade.
Spas snapped back to attention, ignoring the low sound of eating emanating from Marshmallow-Nougat and the heightened sounds of the resumed game. The young Commander Winters sat at his desk, papers set in front of him, touching his fingertips together. “Yes, Commander?”
Commander Winters nodded. “Good morning.”
“Good… morning, Commander?” Spas looked nervously to the other girls again. They hadn’t started eating the doughnuts. Spas could still smell them. She turned back to the Commander. “I completed your request for delivery.”
Commander Winters waved a hand. “That was their request,” he dismissed. “I have just recently put in for a transfer of position concerning your duties.”
Spas felt her brow knot. “Why? Where to? Another outpost?”
Winters shook his head. “No, you will be remaining at Outpost Foxtrot, but from today moving forwards, you have been promoted to Alpha Echelon, and will to be reporting directly to me.”
Spas’s eyes went wide. “A-alpha Echelon? Does that mean I’ll be sent to active duty in the district?”
There was a titter of laughter that came from the obesity couch. In the light of his personal lamp, the Commander grinned. “No, I’m afraid that a promotion means quite the opposite. You’ll be joining Grizzly, RFB, and Mosin…”
“Marshmallow~!” Mosin-Nagant sang in a light interruption.
He continued as if she didn’t speak “… with their daily duties, reporting to section leader Mosin for responsibilities.”
Spas looked from the Commander then back to the group. “Why me… sir?”
“Are you seriously asking that?” Grizzly called over. “Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. I bet 505-Alpha doesn’t have to put up with waiting.”
Mosin turned up her nose at Grizzly. “You hush. I’ll not be compared to UMP45’s leadership, nor her planet-sized ass.”
“You are an exemplary unit, Spas,” the Commander explained. “I think you’ll fit in quite well with the group, and I’ve many duties to attend to that I cannot simply handle on my own. The war we’re fighting requires a lot more than just boots on the ground, and we’ll be handling anything from combat reports to ordering logistic operations, while managing those in the field through active duty operations.” He waved a hand, and a holographic appeared on a screen beneath his desk, revealing a sky view of a small human settlement. “Otherwise, you’ll be free to spend your free time doing whatever else you wish.”
“Like eating these doughnuts, can we please get a move on??” Grizzly groaned, shifting her exemplary weight on the couch.
“Oh no you don’t,” RFB yipped. “You are not starting until I’m done with this race!”
Spas spoke to the Commander. “S-so my daily duties would include… what?”
The Commander smiled. “You’ll be working 8 hour shifts with the other girls, and yours will be from morning at 8am until 4pm. You’ll be staying in here to help assist me in any necessary ways. If none amount to anything, you’re welcome to join the others in doing whatever it is that they choose to do.” He winked at her, “RFB has been playing a lot of kart racing games, and you’re more than welcome to play along.”
“You better be good, though!” RFB called as she sped round a corner. “Cause I’m the best!”
“You can’t be the best if you can’t beat the Commander,” Mosin said.
“Shut up!!!” RFB shouted. “It’s a fluke, he’s cheating!!”
The Commander smirked. He turned the paper around and extended it to Spas. “It’s a low stress environment, though I cannot state just how important the position is. To me, as well as to morale.” He said with a patient smile. “All we need is your official signature.”
Spas took the document and scanned her eyes over it. She felt her heartrate quicken. “W-we can order any food?” she asked.
“Anything, and as much as you want,” the Commander smiled. “You’re also welcome to stay in the office during your non-working hours. The other girls have grown fond of sleeping here on the couch, and hanging out between their working shifts. We had a bed, but… well, we’ve had to replace some furnishings. We’ll be having another two reinforced ones delivered next week.”
“That explains why I haven’t seen them in so long…” Spas murmured to herself. She caught her eyes looking back over to Mosin. The blonde was watching RFB racing with an enthralled expression, smooth chin chomping up and down upon another mouthful of sugary marshmallow. She spun back to the Commander. “I can’t believe they live like this…” she whispered.
Commander Winters perked an eyebrow. “Do you find a fault in the arrangement?” he asked.
“Absolutely!” Spas said, taking the pen. “How could you not invite me sooner!?” her face tugged into a heavy pout. “Free food!!” she demanded, scribbling her signature on the line. “I should have gotten more than just doughnuts!”
The Commander chuckled. “I’d thought you might enjoy that concept. You don’t even seem to notice that you’d given Mosin your weapon.”
Spas nearly leapt from her chair, looking down to her empty hands. She spun and saw her shotgun sitting openly upon the table.
“Not to worry,” he raised a placating hand before she could dash off. “You won’t need it here. You can place it in the arms locker here,” he tapped a locker behind his desk, “for safe keeping.” He nodded sagely. “Now, it’s almost time for second lunch break. We can have that after you sit with the team for your first bonding exercise.”
At the mention of exercise, Grizzly made a noise like a strangled lama.
“Team building exercise,” the Commander chuckled. “Don’t worry, lazy bear. You won’t have to do push-ups again. Or, well, try to do them.”
Spas looked back over to them. “What are you having for… second? Lunch?” she asked.
The Commander gestured. “I am having a salad,” he said. “The girls have elected to… err, what was it, Mosin?”
Mosin turned, speaking through a mouthful of marshmallow. “ ‘e’re get…” she coughed, swallowed, “We’re getting pizza!!” she called back. “They should be here within the hour. Spas, you like meat lovers, right?”
Spas did not even try to hide the drool that formed upon her lip. “B-bacon and ham, right?”
Mosin enthusiastically nodded. “Naturally!”
The Commander took the document from Spas and placed it in a file. He checked a couple of boxes before closing it and sighed with a sense of heavy relief.
“Go along, now. It’s a bit… cramped on the couch, but it’ll be upgraded next week. A new one is coming along with the sleeping area.” he said.
Spas did so, meeting a cheer from Grizzly and applause from Mosin. “Welcome to Alpha company,” Mosin said, sliding a touch to the side and allowing Spas to slide into a seat between her and RFB. There was little space between Mosin’s doughy sides and RFB’s fluffy hips, and Spas felt her thighs intimately touching both Mosin’s and RFB’s when she slid between them upon the well-worn yet comfortably cushioned couch. Yet, RFB did not seem to even notice her.
The girl had a vacant expression on her pudgy face, holding her the dual stick controllers on either side of her lardy belly. Her tongue flicked out in concentration, and her elbows tucked into her love handles while her character zoomed ahead of another and across the finish line. “Yes!!” she shouted, bobbing up and down and shaking the couch violently. Spas loosened a startled yelp and braced herself against the girl’s hip, sucked in by the gravity of her movement. Her hands groped her pale pudge, though RFB didn’t seem to mind as she called, “Screw you, Oxide!!”
There were a pair of loudly grumbling tummies from Grizzly and Mosin, and the former adjusted in her seat. “Finally,” she breathed. “Can we eat now?”
“Yes,” Mosin declared. Spas’s eyes were fastened to the box of doughnuts as Mosin leaned forward and opened them.
Vanilla glaze with sprinkles, chocolate frosting, and more than a few seemed backed with custard and jelly. Spas felt the hunger of the group overlapping her own, each of her companions were fixed upon the pastries. Mosin’s chubby arms dangled with fat while she retrieved a doughnut from the box and passed it to Spas. “Let’s get you caught up,” she said.
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“How is she?” the Commander asked when Mosin trundled over to him with a spare paper plate. Upon it was a lone slice of bacon, chicken, and ham pizza. It was cold.
“Spas?” Mosin asked. “Stuffed silly and sleeping. She’s wrapped around Really Fat Bottom as if she were some sort of pillow.”
The Commander raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t expected that so soon.”
Mosin sifted her weight onto her right leg. “Well, it’s what you desired, isn’t it?”
The Commander said nothing, though Mosin recognized the look in his eye.
Her weight swung forwards when she placed a meaty fist over the corner of his desk, leaning over him. Her large belly pooched down and pressed onto his lap. “Commander,” she whispered, “I know more than you say.” Her thumb coasted over a silver band that she wore over the ring finger of her left hand. “45 has been bouncing ideas off of me when she isn’t stuffing her face. You and the Commander of 505 are up to something.”
“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about,” Commander Winters said.
“Oho? You do not?” Mosin whispered, leaning in closer. The hunter knew when to press, and she set herself nearly on top of the Commander, allowing her weight to rest atop of him. He began to sweat. “The two of you, sent to investigate one another, find that both are… negligent upon the fitness reports of your personal staff.”
Mosin removed her hand from the desk and lifted a meaty leg, leaning it on the edge of his chair. It pitched him forwards, bringing him close to her chest.
“And now, Spas has joined our team. Expanding,” she paused, “your personal staff.” She raised the hand upon which she wore her ring to his cheek. “I am oathed to you,” she promised in a sultry voice, “and I will see the mission complete. Regardless if that means I have to challenge Spas to eating enough pizza that I feel like I need to burst.” She laughed softly.
He blushed. “I never could hide things from you,” he said.
“Try being 45 and having a Commander who thinks ordering 75lbs of M&Ms is subtle,” Mosin touched him upon the nose and lifted herself away. “Now, make sure you eat,” she said, sliding the plate closer to him. “You would not want to anger your Marshmallow-Nougat, would you?” she grinned to him before turning and made sure the waggle her extra large butt while she sauntered back to the couch.
Spas was lightly snoring, as was RFB. The two were intertwined in a sisterly hug, with RFB holding an arm around Spas, who rest upon her buttery belly. Grizzly was breathing heavily, exhausted merely from the act of eating, with her stocky legs resting atop of the table. She looked up to Mosin. “We don’t have to get up, do we?” she asked hushed.
Mosin shook her head. “No, let them sleep,” she nodded. She retrieved the joy controllers and moved over towards the television, adjusting the volume to low before moving to a movie app. The Commander took good care of them, but Marshmallow knew it was her place to make sure her coworkers soft and happy. She offered the controllers to Grizzly. “Anything you have in mind?”
Grizzly took the controllers and scrolled through a list before selecting a movie. She lay the controllers atop of her stretched shirt, letting them rest between her cleavage, while Mosin took a seat nearby.
Spas stirred in her sleep, tightening her hand round RFB’s belly. “Mhmm, burgers…” she whispered before tussling her hair against the large girl and falling back asleep.
Mosin felt her tummy rouse. She decided that she could really go for a burger right now. She’d have to proposition the Commander to get them for their dinner. Big angus burgers, with double patties, and a thick layer of cheese. Such was the benefit of being his squishy Marshmallow.
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