mirrors: deviantART, Archive of Our Own
(cw// cartoony inflation/weight gain, burping, peril)
Within the deep reaches of space, a vessel on auto-pilot weaves carefully through an asteroid belt. It has just reached a dangerous nebula, light-years away from civilisation. Aboard the ship was not a single organic passenger, but one of great importance anyway. At the ship's helm was none other than Watson. A marvel of engineering, and the first of Nebula Industries' “unit” model of robots, intended to be a mimickery of the expected behaviours and functions of a normal person. Aside from her screen face, blue star-shaped hair, and metallic white skin, Watson proportionally looked like an ordinary woman, albeit on the curvy side.
Nebula Industries is one of the biggest conglomerates in space, responsible for the aforementioned creation of these “unit” robots, as well as the trade for space-related goods and services. Watson is such a technical marvel that she exists as this company's CEO, and thusly its de-facto mascot given her merchandisable appearance. Such a role is why she's on this voyage, while typically she'd typically hand these ventures off to the company's faceless advisors, she decided to make a public appearance herself. The trip was to strike a deal with a planet, gaining partial ownership and the ability to profit off of their moon-based cattle and their ability to make delicious “moon cheese”. Of course, Nebula's intent was to wring this planet dry of its resources, exploit the innocent people who signed this deal anticipating further outreach with the rest of the universe. It was nefarious. Disgustingly evil. But that is the work of capitalism.
The deal had already been signed, with the space vessel Watson used to get there now on a return trip back to the company's base of operations, the Nebula Colony. However, as aforementioned, the ship was light-years away from civilization. Such a long voyage inevitably left Watson with a pit in her synthetic stomach, a lengthy grRRrrRWwwWWwwllll... leaving her flat tummy. The ship had been deprived of its food supply, and Watson in the captain's seat turned her swivel chair to the culprit, flashing him a glare.
“F-Flyby is so sorry, Miss Wattie...!” cried the only other unit aboard the ship, sitting tied-up in the other seat in the cockpit. An even shorter robot than Watson, Flyby was a rescue-bot whose purpose was to protect and rescue citizens of the Nebula Colony, and most importantly his master Watson. He's basically a little superhero, though this trip he's forgone his usual superhero attire for a baggy purple spacesuit with golden decals, including a star on his chest. Watson too has this outfit, but it hugs a tad more snugly around her plumper body. “Flyby just wanted a snack...” he whimpered, his slight pot-belly being the only remnant of the ship's food supply.
“Sorry doesn't cut it, Flyby. I'm going frail over here!” Watson huffed, puckering the blue lips on her light-up display. She turned back to the control panel, resting her head upon her hand as she grappled with her hunger. Further grrWWwwWWwwhhllllzzzz...~ left her stomach, sounding like a monster yearning for its next fill, just her robot body reminding her she needs to refuel. “Ugh... couldn't have spared me a single bite. I need something edible, damn it.” Her eyes curiously scanned over the control panel, spotting a button with a cartoon burger symbol on it. What the heck. She pushed down on the button, a small compartment opening up at the control panel revealing a small, blue can. Watson picked it up curiously, holding it in the palm of her golden gloves as she heard whatever was in the small container rattle. She licked her lips, hoping for something edible, but tipping the container onto her hand, she only received a tiny pellet, no bigger than a pea. Her smile pretty quickly faded.
“Whatcha got there, Wattie?” Flyby shifted around in his chair, not at his full range of movement due to being tied-up and stuck to said chair. “Is that some emergency food?”
“Piss off, Flyby.” Watson spat. “You ain't having any.” She tossed the capsule in her mouth. Such a dry, unsatisfying meal, she could literally feel it rattle around in her internals.
“Pleaaase? Please please please?” he begged. “I'm starving!”
She flashed him an even squintier squint. “There's no way you're hungry.” Watson's gaze soon moved back to the can though, undeniably still hungry after such an unsatisfying pellet. Flyby's gluttony was really irking her, so to spite him, she tipped the can right into her mouth, letting a flow of food pellets drop right down her gullet. “—glp!”
...ooUUuuUUrrRRGgghhllllll...~ a rather disconcerting growl left Watson's stomach, followed by exactly what she bargained for: she felt full. Watson looked down upon herself, feeling an expanding feeling within her gut as soon enough, her midriff began to swell outwards. “A-ahh—...!!” Her rump ballooned outwards, pushing hard against the back and arms of her chair, creaking underneath her. Her top half rose to accommodate from her growing bottom half, looking like a large, distended purple garbage bag filled to the brim. Even her chest puffed outwards, slightly bigger to match her hefty underside. Such a mismatched, bottom heavy shape followed by a sudden surge in size had her wobbling in her chair, creaking more and more until it SNAPPED! underneath her rump, reduced to scraps beneath her.
“—u-uooorgghhhhhh...~” Watson let out a dazed moan, her own gluttonous vengeance having backfired on her tremendously. “Whuuughhh...~ what happened...?”
Flyby, who had witnessed the whole ordeal transpire in front of him, now had to tilt his head all the way up to look upon his master. “M-Miss Wattie, that was a whole year's worth of dehydrated food...!” he informed in a panicked tone. “Wh-when Wattie swallowed it, it must've gotten all wet! And huuuuge!”
The superior unit's gaze looked upon the can of dehydrated food still in her hand, noting a label pointing out that the pellets are intended to be soaked before consumption, and deliberately advising not to eat dry.
“...oh.”
Meanwhile, in the asteroids surrounding the vessel as its auto-pilot steered it through treacherous meteorites, a space-faring creature stirs awake from a disturbance. The creature was green all over, consisting of a cat-like head with manic eyes, and four tentacle-like appendages it used to locomote through space. Its alien antennae twitch at the vibrations of a space vessel passing by. Curious, it advances towards the ship, hovering up to look through the cockpit window, and it sees...
...a fifteen-foot tall tower of blubber, awkwardly tripping over itself and wobbling around helplessly, trapped within purple nylon-spandex. As far as the alien's concerned, that's real meat in there, not a synthetic robot. The prospect of a delicacy this big and savoury passing by, well it'd be too good to pass up.
Within the ship, Watson stumbles over her own boots and falls onto her rump, laying down upon the floor with her head up to the control panel. Her eyes a spiral, she continues to adjust to now having to lug around a year's worth of food within her gut, hands reaching down to idly rub her belly. “Oooouuuurrrrghhh...~ I got such a bad tummyache...” she whined. “Flybyyyy, this is all your fault...!”
“U-uh, Flyby wish not to argue, but Wattie made the decision to eat all the dehydrated food...” Flyby correctly asserts, walking up and hopping atop Watson's big belly. Even if he was correct, he no doubt got yet another glare from Watson, though soon she groaned and leaned her head back. Internally, she recognised this was primarily her fault.
“Uhhh, Wattie?”
She noted Flyby was staring out the cockpit window. “What is it now—...?” She slowly turned her neck to face where he was facing. There it was in the window, slightly silhouetted by the light of a thousand stars: the alien, tendrils outstretched. It looked within the ship with a wide maw, spiralled eyes centered directly on Watson with a poisonous purple drool spilling out of its tongue-drooping mouth.
“—A-A-ALIEN...!!” Watson screeched. With an immense amount of effort, the hunk of heavy, flabby metal suddenly rose back up onto her feet, beginning to run on the spot. Each step Watson's upper half sunk deep within her cushiony bottom, almost like a spring. After winding-up, she sprinted down the hall, her body letting out guttural sloshes as it abandoned the deck. “RUUUUN!!”
“B-but that glass is reinforced, Wattie!” Flyby informed — who got flung off of Watson's belly when she ran — taking his eyes away from the alien to watch her awkwardly and hastily waddle off. “Alien can't get—” he slowly turned to the glass, only to realise that the alien had vanished. “—in... uh oh.”
Deeper within the spaceship, sliding doors open. It's fortunate these corridors were made for bigger entities, or else Watson and her tall, bloated body would be toast. She huffed and heaved, managing her awkward waddle as she seemed a little tuckered out from that initial sprint. Despite being a robot, Watson's just as susceptible to tiring herself out as any ordinary person. That's the double-edged sword of being such a high-tech robot, so close to humanity but brandishing all their limitations.
She walked up to a panel on the wall, which she had to awkwardly crane her body downwards to reach, hearty rump wiggling as she did. “Come on, come on...” She tapped at the screen, looking for something to assist her. She could — and did — send out an SOS, but with how far the ship was from civilization, help wouldn't come nor be notified for another few days. Watson did however spy that beside the panel was a compartment in the wall, to which she opened, revealing a rack of space-themed weaponry on the wall. “Aha! It isn't much, but it'll do...”
As Watson scanned over which weapon would be optimal to use, a rattle came out from the tap behind her. Opposite to the wall of weapons was a simple sink and mirror combo, with pipes that had access directly out of the ship. No sane individual would go through it, but a slimy alien that can fit through any space totally would. Out from the tap emerged the green tentacled cat-alien, tendrils whipping around as it gazed upon its prize. Fortunately for it, Watson hadn't noticed yet. It stared upon her, all her girth and her massive butt jiggling side-to-side as she surveyed her choice of weapons.
SMACK!! “—E-EEK!!” Its slick tendrils smacked upon her rear and slid up her curvature, Watson's eyes going wide as what she dreaded come to pass. She looked behind her, face-to-face with the wild-eyed alien as it drooled and oogled at her. “—th-the alien!!” She winced feeling its particularly wet and slippery appendages ride up her body, feeling it through her stretched-thin spacesuit. Quickly, she reached into the weapon's rack and fiddled with her options, settling on a red laser gun which she used to fire at the alien's head. It dodges, but the blast still manages to blow off some of their whiskers, causing its tendrils to let go of her.
Taking this opportunity, Watson sloshes and waddles away, body awkwardly undulating out of the way of the alien as she continued fleeing down the hall. The alien soon recovered, pinching out the embers on its whiskers with its tendrils, as it looked at its fleeing meal. It stuck its tendrils out and began to spin them like fan-blades, as it spiralled after the big meaty robot.
Thus, the chase began. The big, jiggly robot water balloon clumsily sloshed and wiggled through the halls, each step matched with a ship-shaking stomp and a deep gurgle from her innards. She held up her laser pistol. “Get away from me...!” she yelled, as she began firing wildly. The alien was keeping up easily, but had to ungracefully swerve out of the way of incoming fire, the blasts ricocheting off the walls before fizzling out. It was a monotonous cycle of sloshing, waddling, spinning and firing. Up until Watson gained enough of a lead stalling the alien out with gunfire, managing to quickly slink around a corner as her butt lagged behind her, slamming into the wall. The alien somehow failed to notice these tremours as it continued down the hall.
Watson breathed a sigh of relief, free from the alien for now. “Phew...” She was exhausted from the brief yet terrifying encounter. It was dreadful having her body compromised, unable to fight back truly due to how much of a burden it was to lift around her heavy mass. A beep left her laser pistol, her looking down and realising it was low on energy. She tossed it, didn't need any more deadweight around her, as she fled into a door.
The alien stops in its tracks after hearing the beep of the gun, drifting around to turn back to the corner it missed. It looked down at the gun, picking it up from off the floor. It had one blast left in it, though the alien didn't know that. Hardly knew what a gun was, but did observe how his meal of the day was using it...
A pitter-patter caught its ear, twitching as it perked its head up. Unfortunately, such tiny steps didn't belong to its meal, but instead its side. Having been trying to keep up was the other robot accompanying Watson, little ol' Flyby still tied up at the arms. The alien couldn't help but squint at the little robot.
“HEY!!” Flyby yelled, seeming confident despite being without arms. “What did freaky alien do to Wattie! Flyby isn't afraid to use... legs!” he started kicking the air to prove his point.
The alien was far from impressed, rolling its eyes. It pointed the gun and fired at Flyby. The little robot proved nimble, flipping out of the way as the blast burnt through the rope, finally freeing Flyby's hands. He stretched out his arms, able to move them around again as he clenched his fists. “Freaky alien asked for it now!” Flyby's thrusters began to whir to life. The alien began spinning its tendrils, ready to launch itself at the petite robot...
Just then, the sliding doors open again. Both of their fields of view were obscured by a big, purple and blue figure. “Flyby, is that you?” Watson queried, rather foolishly stumbling out of the door at the worst possible time. The alien having already launched itself towards Flyby, its eyes widen as it suddenly collides into Watson instead, smacking into the blubbery monolith of robot fat. “—AIYEEEEE!!” She squealed, as she and the alien were sent careening down the hallway, a blurred orb of purple and green smacking into walls.
“Wattie!!”
Alien and its prey spiral into the garbage disposal, falling through the hatch in the wall and slamming into a wall of crates, coming to a sudden halt, and causing the crates to fall over and spill their contents. “Whuuuughhhhh...~” Watson's too dazed to move, eyes a spiral. The alien however perks up, having gotten its prey right where it wants it. Knowing now that she'll escape if it didn't act quickly, it whipped its tendrils around Watson several times over like a lasso, holding her in place as it squeezed at her fat. “Mmmngh-!!” Her cheeks puffed out, Watson squirming as she was squished like a doll, the alien getting a sadistic pleasure just holding her.
The alien scanned the room, noticing the crates that fell down, and what spilled out of them. Blue cans. The same dehydrated food cans that made Watson this way. Of course, the alien didn't know that, but slobbered at the sight of food on their branding. With its spare tendrils, it started picking up the food cans, and stuffing them directly into Watson's mouth!
“MMMNGH-!!” FWOOOMPTH. Another surge in size to Watson's already massive and girthy body. The can's contents must've spilled in her stomach and gotten wet, another year's worth of food added to her figure. The alien kept going, stuffing more and more cans. BWOOOOMPTH. GROOOOOOWL. Watson's cheeks only puffed out more, taking up more and more of the room with how large and obese she was getting, fat undulating rolls of metallic flab, beginning to tear through her purple spacesuit revealing her dark metal underplating.
“W-Wattie...!” Flyby squealed, having finally arrived to the garbage disposal, seeing what this monster was doing to Watson. She was massive! A total blob of fat, oozing at every wall of the disposal. The little recon robot didn't even know what to make of the situation, nor how to save Watson. The alien however got defensive, squeezing harder as Watson's cheeks puffed out more, and her arms outstretched because of it.
Her finger brushes with the surface of one of the buttons on the wall, and with more struggling, clicks it in. The sirens blare, the alien lifting its head to look at the flashing red lights. Unbeknownst to it, one of the garbage torpedoes lock and load, travelling along the ground as it suddenly slammed into the alien, locking both it and the torpedo into place. With noone left to squeeze Watson, her mouth finally opened.
“gRWWUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooOOOooOOoOoORRRRrRrRrRRrrRRrrrppphhhhhhhhhhttttttt...~~”
A tremendous belch left Watson's mouth. Decade's worth of dehydrated food having been digested in an instant from the alien's fierce squeezing, all coming out now as a thunderous belt of gas. Watson spiralled in the air like a deflating balloon, slowly but surely shrinking back down to regular size, given her bloat though she had a lot of shrinking to do, and therefore alot of belching. The bassy burp continued on-and-on, before Watson slowly descended to the floor like a petal in the wind, landing rump first. She huffed and puffed, clearly out of breath as she got her bearings. She looked down upon herself, soon realising that she had shrunk straight down back to her normal size, practically the same as she was aside from some torn fabric on her suit.
“I-I'm... I'm me again!” Watson couldn't help but hug herself with her bendy limbs, smiling with glee.
Flyby soon hopped down and ran to Watson's side. “Wattie is Wattie again! Hurray!” he also hugged her, which Watson didn't seem to mind. Any sort of animosity towards Flyby was gone, instead directed towards... “-s-so, what about the alien?”
Watson got up and looked at the wriggling tentacles stuck in the disposal bay. She hit the button, priming the torpedo to fire into the expanse of space, as it did. The alien let out a screech as it was flung into the reaches of space, the torpedo exploding and presumably, ridding the world of the alien vermin.
“Good riddance.” Watson breathed a sigh of relief, patting herself down. “Well, at least I'm not hungry anymore...”
“I am!” Flyby gleefully grinned.
“...no you aren't.” Watson pinched his cheek, as the two laughed it off and returned to the ship's corridors, and soon back to the cockpit. They had a week long flight to resume.