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Garrus Wins Big: Part I
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Addylad, which will be a series- Garrus gets sent by the Turian government to investigate a mysterious string of disappearances on a luxury space cruise, only to find there's quite a few effects on his own mass- and now he's in a race to solve the mystery before he becomes too fat to do anything but eat his own winnings. Enjoy!
The blue-marked turian huffed as he drummed his fingers against the table. "Alright, alright— two thousand credits, red seven."
That earned a little more appreciative murmuring from the other players huddling around Garrus. The spinner was thrown, and after a moment of baited breath, the asari dealer announced, "Red seven, Garrus Vakarian wins!"
"Holy—!" Garrus gasped, his mouth splitting into a wide grin. There was his payment from the Hierarchy right there.
The dealer nodded at Garrus with a smile. "Your winnings will be credited to your on-ship account, Mr. Vakarian. Do you want to deal again?"
Garrus shared a smirk with Varen before looking back to the dealer. "Yes— let's put…" he trailed off, his face sinking into a frown as he felt his middle; his stomach was gurgling in a menacing fashion. "I'm… so sorry, excuse me."
The turian stepped away from the table, hunting down the nearest bathroom. There was a sharp pain in his middle, and now Garrus was almost certain that he had eaten something levo-amino acid based. He reached the bathroom and pushed the call button before slipping inside. He was about ready to induce gagging when some of the pressure immediately relieved itself, when the seam along his jacket and shirt began to tear, running right up to his armpit.
Garrus quickly identified the cause of his discomfort; around his middle was a bloated potbelly that the turian could scarcely believe. He shook his head; had someone spiked his drink, was he hallucinating? But as he prodded at it, it definitely felt real. Worse, he swore it was growing and still swelling.
"Oh, no no no, this— this can't be happening," Garrus muttered, taking handfuls of the fat that had accumulated on his middle. There was another sound of splitting cloth, and the turian gasped as one hand went to his leg, feeling the seam split around his hips. He was definitely still growing.
"Come on, please, stop!" He hissed at his own body, staring in a state of utter disbelief as he watched his own reflection begin to fill out. His torn shirt rose up as his chest pushed out, he twisted to his profile and saw his formerly defined and sculpted rump fill out into a pair of overripe, soft and round cheeks.
"I'm begging you!" He demanded through gritted teeth as he tried sucking in his bulging belly, pressing on it with both hands as if he could push it back in. After a few horrifying minutes, Garrus was fairly certain the growth had stopped. He had screwed his eyes shut, still desperately hoping this was some kind of hallucination, and while he begged whatever Spirits were listening to just let this be some strange, drug-induced fever dream, he had to open his eyes to face the reality, however it had happened.
Garrus cringed as he viewed the damage; before seeing the obscenely massive Primarchs in the vids, he could count the fat turians he had seen on one hand. Because of the Hierarchy's laws and the turian's regimented lifestyle, when a turian started putting on weight, their comrades in arms, families, and clan members all intervened and worked as a unit to get the fat one back on track. He could just imagine what his father and sister would say seeing him like this; his belly was now round and heavy enough it spilled over his waistline by at least an extra inch as he stood examining his profile, whimpering slightly as his lean, fighting fit profile was completely destroyed. His rear billowed out, like he was smuggling water balloons in the backend of his boxers. Meanwhile, soft fat had layered around his thighs, arms, and padded out his chest as well.
Addylad, which will be a series- Garrus gets sent by the Turian government to investigate a mysterious string of disappearances on a luxury space cruise, only to find there's quite a few effects on his own mass- and now he's in a race to solve the mystery before he becomes too fat to do anything but eat his own winnings. Enjoy!<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>The blue-marked turian huffed as he drummed his fingers against the table. "Alright, alright— two thousand credits, red seven."
That earned a little more appreciative murmuring from the other players huddling around Garrus. The spinner was thrown, and after a moment of baited breath, the asari dealer announced, "Red seven, Garrus Vakarian wins!"
"Holy—!" Garrus gasped, his mouth splitting into a wide grin. There was his payment from the Hierarchy right there.
The dealer nodded at Garrus with a smile. "Your winnings will be credited to your on-ship account, Mr. Vakarian. Do you want to deal again?"
Garrus shared a smirk with Varen before looking back to the dealer. "Yes— let's put…" he trailed off, his face sinking into a frown as he felt his middle; his stomach was gurgling in a menacing fashion. "I'm… so sorry, excuse me."
The turian stepped away from the table, hunting down the nearest bathroom. There was a sharp pain in his middle, and now Garrus was almost certain that he had eaten something levo-amino acid based. He reached the bathroom and pushed the call button before slipping inside. He was about ready to induce gagging when some of the pressure immediately relieved itself, when the seam along his jacket and shirt began to tear, running right up to his armpit.
Garrus quickly identified the cause of his discomfort; around his middle was a bloated potbelly that the turian could scarcely believe. He shook his head; had someone spiked his drink, was he hallucinating? But as he prodded at it, it definitely felt real. Worse, he swore it was growing and still swelling.
"Oh, no no no, this— this can't be happening," Garrus muttered, taking handfuls of the fat that had accumulated on his middle. There was another sound of splitting cloth, and the turian gasped as one hand went to his leg, feeling the seam split around his hips. He was definitely still growing.
"Come on, please, stop!" He hissed at his own body, staring in a state of utter disbelief as he watched his own reflection begin to fill out. His torn shirt rose up as his chest pushed out, he twisted to his profile and saw his formerly defined and sculpted rump fill out into a pair of overripe, soft and round cheeks.
"I'm begging you!" He demanded through gritted teeth as he tried sucking in his bulging belly, pressing on it with both hands as if he could push it back in. After a few horrifying minutes, Garrus was fairly certain the growth had stopped. He had screwed his eyes shut, still desperately hoping this was some kind of hallucination, and while he begged whatever Spirits were listening to just let this be some strange, drug-induced fever dream, he had to open his eyes to face the reality, however it had happened.
Garrus cringed as he viewed the damage; before seeing the obscenely massive Primarchs in the vids, he could count the fat turians he had seen on one hand. Because of the Hierarchy's laws and the turian's regimented lifestyle, when a turian started putting on weight, their comrades in arms, families, and clan members all intervened and worked as a unit to get the fat one back on track. He could just imagine what his father and sister would say seeing him like this; his belly was now round and heavy enough it spilled over his waistline by at least an extra inch as he stood examining his profile, whimpering slightly as his lean, fighting fit profile was completely destroyed. His rear billowed out, like he was smuggling water balloons in the backend of his boxers. Meanwhile, soft fat had layered around his thighs, arms, and padded out his chest as well.
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Turian
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 203.6 kB
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