Nyaan couldn’t run anymore. She wasn’t sick of it, not by a long shot. She’d been running from nebulous forces she’d never seen the faces of since she was young. So long that she’d forgotten her own last name; it just didn’t matter, anymore. ‘Running’ was just a state of life for Nyaan, whether it was in a mobile suit or not. But, she just couldn’t do it any longer. After all, she was far too fat for it.
“Ensign,” from just above her, the standing figure of Nyaan’s mistress called her with a twist of her wrist. Kycillia Zabi didn’t care to use Nyaan’s proper name, simply addressing her by the title she’d worn for all of a few weeks whilst she worked alongside Zeon’s head honcho. “Stand.”
Nyaan nodded slowly, her whole body feeling drugged and dragged down with lethargy. Taking one hand off of the black-and-orange overalls she’d been forced to wear as a prisoner, she placed those plump digits on the side of the cot. Heaving herself to her feet, with all her might, Nyaan managed just about to push her huge ass off of the bed and just about rise to the occasion. When she opened her eyes again though. Nyaan found the terrifying truth of the matter. She’d used every inch of her remaining energy, and only managed to make it halfway. “Ungh..” She grunted, wheezing as she locked herself in place. She couldn’t move, refusing to back down in front of Kycillia out of whatever dignity she had left.
Kycillia clicked her tongue, and grabbed a portion of Nyaan’s upper-arm, digging into the blubber until her fingertips met bone. Unlike her plump prisoner, Kycillia’s whole body was wired and spiky, as if she was just as capable of war as a Zaku or a Gouf. “I’ll have them send more gravity plates. Don’t forget to use them, next time.” Her voice managed a twinkle of tenderness as she yanked Nyaan to her feet, easily handling the girl despite the hundreds of kilos of fat filling her up.
“Nnh,” Nyaan moaned as she felt her mistress handle her so roughly, her body instinctively anticipating some kind of play. “K-Kycillia-sama…” She heaved, blushing as she felt her belly sag until her overalls restrained it. Her prisoner-garb was in the largest size Zeon had on supply, but it was still growing too small for her as she buttered up. “I won’t.” Nyaan managed to blush again, as she met the needle-sharp eyes of the Zabi head.
Having survived Char Aznable’s attempt on her life, Kycillia had seen to it that all the errant scraps of Challia Bull’s schemes had been cleaned up. Arrested, mostly. Nyaan was among those detained, but even then she hadn’t seen the end of the Zabi family; after all, she had shot Kycillia. She needed a more personal punishment. Something to balance the scales.
That was what had brought Nyaan to this moment in time; weighing two-hundred and twelve kilos, whilst she rotted away in a room on the Zabi flagship outfitted for a princess. Kycillia had seen fit to punish Nyaan by feeding her. So much cake, pie and cream, had been ingloriously poured down Nyaan’s throat, until she was red-cheeked and sobbing. No amount of newtype-pulses or Diablo tricks would be getting her out of this one.
“Good girl.” Kycillia muttered, still teething the pet-name about in her mouth. “Now, follow me.” With a jerk of her head, Kycillia gestured towards the room’s doorway. “It’s feeding time, piggy.” Breathing out headily, Kycillia approached Nyaan until she could place one of her clawed hands on the girl’s stomach.
“P-Piggy?” Nyaan muttered under her breath, flushing red across her face as Kycillia closed in on her. Without a doubt, Nyaan had become her mistress’ piggy; being stuffed almost every hour of the day, reduced to a sobbing, sweating mass of meat atop her own bed. “O-Of course, mistress.” With a gulp, Nyaan placed her own hands on her belly as if to mirror Kycillia’s motions. With a mostly bottom-heavy body, Nyaan’s love-handles seemed to bulge her belly in every direction, forcing her hips to strain and stretch beneath the gigantic thing. With a heave, Nyaan stumbled forwards until her entire, plushy body was pressed against Kycillia’s.
“No time to play.” Kycillia rolled her eyes in response. Any sane warmonger would adore a moment alone with their personal pig, but Kycillia was always on a tight schedule. She shook her head, leading Nyaan by the tummy towards the door. “We’ll use the machine to stuff you, and then send you back to your room.” She ordered, beginning to drag Nyaan as she clenched down harder on the gut-roll she was so proudly handling.
Nyaan moaned and wheezed, helpless to follow the muscular mistress as she toyed with her body. Being as obese as she was, Nyaan’s whole body was a plaything, almost. She had handles, rolls and squeezable spots everywhere, even on her face. “Wh-What flavour?” She whispered, barely audible as she panted, exhausted just to keep up with her feeder.
Kycillia stopped, turning and looking down at the blushing face of her favorite fatso. “Flavour?!” She crowed, letting go of Nyaan’s belly and hiking herself up to her full height. “I don’t remember you having a favorite.” She grunted, almost spitting down at the red-cheeked pig. “I don’t remember you even being able to choose.” With a grim laugh, Kycillia just rolled her eyes and turned away. Would this brainless blob even be able to fit through the doorway? The image of Nyaan’s wide ass and thick gut getting stuck in the doorframe was arousing enough to try, either way.
Nyaan squeaked unintelligibly as she tried to keep up with her feeder, forgetting for a moment that she wasn’t being dragged anymore, by belly or by breast. Kycillia just had that infinitely-commanding presence that demanded you keep up with her. “I—Haahn—I like—Unffhh—g-gyoza flavour, mistress.” Nyaan blushed, rubbing her belly as she imagined it filling with no end of perfectly prepared, steaming and stuffed sets of beefy gyoza. She’d let herself grow so large, if they just had a flavour like that. Something thick and juicy. Something that would make her feel truly full. With a rub of her belly, Nyaan realised; she already was large. She was going to grow even larger, into a blob of fat. “I-I p-promise I’ll—Haahn—eat s-so much—Unnnff—, Kycillia-sama…” Almost hyperventilating before she’d even left her room, Nyaan squeezed and groped her lardy body, obsessing over just how inflated it all was — and how much bigger it was inevitably going to grow.
“Gyoza.” Kycillia cackled, still moving implacably towards the door. She wanted to see this girl stuck, no matter what. Ensign Nyaan was already blatantly incapable of running. Kycillia Zabi wanted her to hardly be even able to walk. “We’ll see to it.”
