story about my nightwing soldier gal, Strongclaws (yes she's aware of the irony of her name), thumbnail by the talented  Itzimiau

full art of this scene here

Strongclaws sat heavily upon the trampled grass, her hindquarters spreading out beneath her
weight and pressing into the earth, the softness of her enormous rump providing ample padding.
Her wide thighs spilled out heavily to either side, thick rolls of fat bunching against each other.
The round swell of her belly sprawled forward between her legs, drooping down so low it
brushed gently against the grass, a constant reminder of months spent in idle indulgence.

A heavy scent of grease and spices rose into her nostrils as she lifted another steaming
drumstick toward her waiting jaws. She bit down greedily, savoring the satisfying crunch of fried
skin and the burst of rich, greasy juices flooding across her tongue. Oil trickled down her chin,
collecting in the folds beneath her jaw and highlighting the ample softness of her double chin
and thick neck. Each rapid chew filled her ears with moist, smacking noises that drowned out
the shouts of drill instructors and the occasional grunts and groans of her comrades struggling
through the waiting obstacle course.

She kept her eyes fixed on the dwindling pile of drumsticks cradled against her soft chest,
determined not to acknowledge the disciplined line of soldiers standing stiffly at attention around
her. Though she felt their gazes flicker toward her repeatedly, she stubbornly ignored their silent
judgments, losing herself in the immediate comfort of food, each motion sending tremors
rippling subtly through her flab. The oily flavor of meat was a fragile shield, barely holding back
the creeping dread that crawled up her spine at the thought of what awaited her.

Another drumstick disappeared into her eager maw. Strongclaws swallowed, breathing heavily
through her nostrils. A greasy pawprint stained her chest scales as she reached for the next
piece, jaws working with nervous determination. Her stomach pressed out firmly, the fullness
combining with anxiety to make her gut feel even heavier, as if gravity were tugging her deeper
into the grass. As she chewed faster, forcing down bite after oily bite, she glanced briefly toward
the course ahead. She glimpsed a soldier struggling through pushups, muscles trembling, but
quickly tore her eyes away.

Her breath quickened. Another drumstick vanished. She shifted her considerable bulk, feeling
the weight and warmth of her belly sloshing softly against her inner thighs, sweat beginning to
bead beneath her scales. The drumsticks, her sole refuge, were rapidly dwindling, leaving only
grease smeared bones in their wake. Her thick tail twitched nervously, the faint movement
sending small ripples through her sprawling flesh.

Her stomach tightened as she reached again into emptiness. The comforting weight of food was
gone. Strongclaws stared down at the slick bones scattered in her lap, her claws sticky with fat,
her chest rising and falling heavily beneath her chin rolls. The drums of anxiety beat louder in
her chest, shivers making her entire flabby frame tremble faintly. Her ears flattened back
involuntarily as a voice barked her name sharply.

She exhaled deeply, her breath wheezing beneath the thick flab of her chest, and heaved
herself upward, with a low grunt, the muscles in her legs immediately tightening painfully under
the burden of her weight, thighs trembling and belly swinging ponderously beneath her, hanging
down to her knees as she prepared to face what she'd desperately ignored until now.
Her thick thighs brushed heavily together as she waddled forward, each lumbering step causing
her ponderous belly to sway side to side, the sensation tugging sharply at her lower back. Her
breath began to quicken after only a few strides, scales prickling with sweat as the sun pressed
down on her plump shoulders.

Ahead lay the pushup station, a simple stretch of flattened grass marred by countless sets of
talonprints. She paused for an instant, mouth dry, heart thumping hard against her ribs, and
slowly bent her forelegs. Descending, her belly touched first, spreading heavily over the grass in
a warm, yielding wave. Pressure built beneath her ribs as the weight of her own body squeezed
the breath from her chest.

Her forelimbs trembled with effort even before she began, joints creaking in protest. Digging her
claws into the dirt, she pressed upward with a ragged exhale, belly peeling off the grass with
sluggish reluctance. Her limbs shook violently, muscles burning hot, and she locked her knees
with a groan that scraped from deep in her throat.

Lowering herself again took immense effort; her swollen belly met the grass even sooner,
flattening against it and spilling outward beneath her. Panting in short, wheezing breaths, she
pushed again, her plump forearms quivering uncontrollably. Her head felt dizzy, eyes narrowed
in concentration as she struggled upward once more. Her body rose agonizingly slowly, every
scale feeling stretched tight, and at the top she nearly lost her grip, claws slipping slightly on the
grass slick with her sweat.

Attempting the third pushup, she felt her elbows buckle halfway through the ascent. Her limbs
collapsed beneath her, and her full weight slammed onto the cushion of her gut, driving the air
out of her lungs in one sharp, painful gasp, and forcing a warm, greasy Ouuurp from her
muzzle, which gaped open as she lay panting heavily, heart hammering, face flushed with heat
and embarrassment. Shouts of the drill instructors blurred together, sharp voices slicing through
her haze, demanding she move.

A prodding talon jabbed at her flank, the blunt sensation pushing firmly into her yielding flesh.
Still gasping for breath, Strongclaws forced her head up, blinking through sweat stung eyes,
limbs shaking as she gathered the strength to drag herself onward.

Strongclaws awkwardly twisted her thick, heavy frame onto her back, feeling the mass of her
belly slosh sideways and spread loosely across her torso as her flanks spilled out to either side
and she settled into position. The roughness of the flattened grass poked sharply at her scales,
prickling at the softer folds along her sides and back. She blinked at the bright sky overhead,
from the sweat gathering at the corners of her eyes and the harsh glare of sunlight.

Above her loomed the barbell, a long, sturdy metal bar laden with weights, suspended on
supports just within reach. Her forelimbs trembled visibly as she lifted them, underused muscles
twitching with a dull ache, the joints in her shoulders tight and sore. Her chubby talons wrapped
weakly around the cold metal, barely able to form a proper grip as her thick neck rolls bunched
uncomfortably beneath her head, forcing her chin upward.

She pushed upward, shoulders and forearms burning sharply, atrophied muscles straining
beneath layers of flab rolls. The bar rose just slightly, hovering mere inches from her chest,
wobbling unsteadily as her forelegs trembled. Pressure built within her shoulders, sharp and
insistent, while her grip faltered, claws beginning to slip despite the metal’s textured surface.
The weight overcame her strength abruptly, dropping down onto her plump chest with a blunt,
muted thump. The force pressed deeply into her soft scales, sinking noticeably into the yielding
flesh before settling heavily across her ribs. Her limbs fell limp to her sides, forelegs tingling with
numbness, soreness blooming sharply through her shoulders.

A shadow blocked the sun momentarily as the instructor stepped over, scowling. Without a
word, he gripped the bar with firm, practiced talons, lifting it easily from her sagging body and
returning it to its rack with a metallic clang. His expression remained hard, gaze sharp and
unyielding as he grunted and gestured sharply onward, signaling her to move without pause.
Strongclaws slowly rolled sideways, the weight of her body shifting sluggishly, belly dragging
heavily across the dirt as she struggled back onto her aching limbs. Her muscles shuddered,
soreness flooding through her joints, yet she obediently stumbled forward, chunky, thick tail
dragging low and limp behind her.

She reached the weighted carry station on quivering legs, the ache spreading sharply through
her thick, soft thighs. She stood unsteadily, plump talons flexing into the dirt for balance as her
exhausted limbs struggled to hold her immense weight. Without warning, the heavy mass of a
dummy dragon landed roughly across her back, the sudden impact forcing her downward,
pressing painfully at the thick back rolls that totally obscured her shoulder blades.

The bulk of the armored dummy dug into her soft flesh, straps and metal plates pressing sharply
into her scales. The weight settled firmly, weighing against her spine and compressing her
knees. Her forelegs trembled, muscles straining to remain locked. She stared ahead, vision
narrowing onto the waiting drill instructor standing rigidly fifty paces away, his expression stern,
impatience clear in the tight set of his jaw.

Behind her, murmurs and restless shuffling from her fellow soldiers prickled at her scales, a
sensation of heat creeping across her cheeks and neck. She took one halting, shaking step
forward, knees buckling almost immediately under the load. Her legs folded beneath her,
striking the ground heavily, dirt grinding sharply into her scales. She sprawled forward, belly
squashing beneath her, the dummy crushing heavily into her back, pinning her helplessly to the
earth.
A drill instructor swiftly approached, irritation plain in the harsh lines around his narrowed eyes.
He gripped the dummy firmly, peeling it from her sagging form with a forceful yank. The release
brought immediate relief as the pressure lifted, allowing air to flow more freely into her strained,
fat choked lungs. He gestured sharply ahead, eyes fixed on her with unmistakable disgust.

With a dull ache radiating through her legs and shoulders, Strongclaws dragged herself upright
again, each muscle protesting sharply. Her steps were slow and heavy, tail drooping, belly
swaying pendulously beneath her as she shamefully waddled toward the final station, huffing
and wheezing for breath as sweat blurred her vision. The backlog of soldiers held up by her
abysmal performance shifted restlessly behind her, groans, gossip and teasing rippling through
the ranks, frustration and impatience prickling almost palpably at her back.

Strongclaws stood unsteadily at the edge of the flight course, heavy limbs shaking beneath her
weight. Her wide chest heaved with ragged breaths, scales slick and shining in the harsh
sunlight. Towering poles lined the path ahead, silently marking the route like judgmental
sentinels.

She crouched low, hind legs tensing beneath layers of soft flesh, and then sprang upward,
wings unfurling rapidly. Her shoulders ached as rarely used muscles strained desperately to lift
her from the ground. Her talons cleared the grass for just a brief instant before gravity reclaimed
her body and dragged her heavily back down with a deep, resounding thump, setting her entire
lard laden figure wobbling from the impact.

Silence followed. Strongclaws avoided the instructors' glares, their disapproval tangible in the
quiet, and knew quite a few members of her unit were unabashedly staring at her twin mounds
of ass blubber jiggling vigorously behind her. Heat blossomed under her scales, embarrassment
prickling across her cheeks. With reluctant effort, she shuffled backward, claws dragging
through the trampled grass until enough space lay before her.

She waddled forward in a lumbering jog, her body rocking and swaying, belly swaying side to
side and slapping against her thick thighs with every stride. The rhythmic thumps of her steps
sent painful jolts through her knees, each impact sharp and jarring. Wings extended wide again,
muscles burning, she hurled herself skyward with a hoarse grunt of effort. Wind finally caught
beneath her trembling membranes, hauling her ponderous form upward, every scale pulling
tight against the strain.

Strongclaws lurched into motion, wings beating erratically, body drifting unsteadily forward. Her
sagging belly threw off her center of mass, colliding heavily with the first pole and sending it
toppling aside, a dull thud reverberating through her flesh. Each subsequent pole met a similar
fate, wood scraping roughly against sensitive scales, her wrecking ball of a flight barely feeling
the resistance.

With every flap, she already felt herself sinking lower, her mass pulling her steadily toward the
earth. Muscles screamed beneath her scales, unused to so much physical activity, wings
slowing despite desperate effort. Ahead loomed the turn, and she banked sluggishly, tilting her
heavy frame sideways. Her wings fluttered weakly, barely keeping her airborne as she dipped
dangerously close to the grass.

Breath rasping, throat burning, she pushed onward, grass blades brushing softly against the
underside of her belly. Her flight ended abruptly as her body slammed into the earth, momentum
dragging her forward, her gut digging deep into the soft dirt, carving a shallow groove behind
her. Dirt and grass ground roughly against her scales, scraping against her sweaty belly scales.
She lay still, face pressed into the cool ground, sides heaving with ragged breaths, limbs
trembling and limp beneath her. Instructors sighed heavily, murmuring to each other. Behind her,
movement resumed as another soldier was called forward, leaving her sprawled in the dirt,
utterly spent and so, so hungry.