To say that Miranda Lawson's arrival at Cerberus' HQ caused a stir was an understatement.
When she walked through the telescoping umbilical connecting the bay to her corvette, the armed guards on station couldn't look away from the organization's best scientist. When she walked through the lobby every eye went to her and jaws dropped. The sway of her hips and the bounce of her breasts were on a scale unimagined and it gratified Miranda despite or rather because of the changes over the past years.
Her hips, 62 inches around, had brushed the inside of the umbilical. Despite being custom made for her unique figure, dress clothes weren't ready for the increasing amount of brunette. She'd popped a button on her blouse a the bra...and two at the waistline, revealing both a valley of snow white, G cup cleavage and a slab of equally pale gelatinous belly fat spilling over her belt. Her walk through the lobby, a mere hundred yards long, had left her breathing heavily and despite an oath to stay to stairs she'd gotten into the elevator to meet her boss, noticing with distaste that everyone else got out of the way which was a shame, she'd always wanted to get stuck in an elevator.
"Whew, maybe its a good idea, I could use a snack," Miranda muttered to herself, trying to hide her disintegrating clothing and eying the weight limit on the elevator, a number uncomfortably close to what her scale had said before the trip.
"Dr. Lawson," a robotic, soft and feminine voice came from the computer on her wrist, "your blood sugar is falling, may a suggest a snack? Candy now will ensure you don't get fully full during today."
"Of course Edie, don't know what I'd be without you reminding me," the behemoth brunette smiled, plump fingers pulling a thick candy bar from her blouse pocket.
"Probably not reminding you to take blood pressure medications," Edie responded.
A 12 oz of nougat, chocolate, caramel and peanut vanished by the time the doors opened, just a little smear at the corner's of her lips.
Doors opened seamlessly, exposing Miranda to a vast office, its windows tinted to view a vast, alien sun. Setting at the desk and smoking a cigarette was a wolfishly handsome man in his late fifties, eyes glowing a biotic blue as they looked at the head of research for Cerberus.
"Dr. Lawson, I'm glad you were able to tear yourself away from the research," the Elusive Man said, "how's the new diet going?"
"It's...going," Miranda Lawson said, not admitting she'd hit her highest ever weight that morning.
Miranda Lawson hadn't been born as much as made. Her billionaire father had had her genetics blended from earth's smartest female scientists, best athletes and most beautiful models, resulting in a woman with a 36' x 22 x 38 figure and a 195 IQ by the time she graduated with a doctorate at 19 from Earth's best university. Fifteen years later and her IQ was sharp as ever, working on projects beyond anything that would be allowed in citadel space and with a near limitless budget.
But that perfect, leggy, curvy figure had gone away.
Miranda's relationship with her father had detonated on discovering that she was an artificial human. She'd been told her mother had died in a car accident and been praised to see her athletic and academic achievements were her own, only to discover that she'd been made to succeed and look gorgeous doing it according to her father's whims. Worse, there were several back up clones of the brunette beauty ready to be produced if she failed. After an argument that had ended in gunfire, Miranda had stolen the oldest, infant clone of herself and fled, quickly being approached by the human supremacist group known as Cerberus to run its expanding research team. Lawson's team had made several breakthroughs in nano implants and cybernetic limbs before it was apparent that human knowledge wasn't the only thing that was expanding: Miranda was getting fat and fast.
Perfect legs thickened up, her model's face began to round, her matchless ass grew its firs stretchmarks and cellulite puckers and her abs gave way to a gut. Constant cravings for fats and sugars even when stuffed painfully full, a plummeting metabolic level, nightly sleep eating sessions that had her waking up in front of emptied fridges and vending machines, portion sizes increasing until she developed a full blown binge eating disorder. The reason for all this eating was simple: revenge.
Calling Miranda's father a sexist pig was an understatement, he'd designed his daughter down to every curve and bounce. Knowing how fataphobic her father was, as soon as Miri was free of his influence she'd started eating, while using her brilliance to rewrite portions of her own genetic code. Her high metabolism and inborn distaste for sugar went away, replaced with a glandular issue and a binge eating disorder. She'd stopped any form of unnecessary exercise and usually kept the gravity low when in space, letting her muscles waste away while upping her daily caloric intake to 8K a day. She'd even gone to the trouble of rescuing a mad proto type AI from Cerberus' servers and tinkering with it to produce what she called EDI: Enhanced Dietary Intelligence to make sure she ate as much as possible.
If Mr. Lawson had wanted a perfect daughter, he could fuck off. Because Miranda had found that she loved being morbidly obese, every wobble and jiggle of her bulk n act of rebellion. And sex, back when she'd been thin enough to get some had been better the bigger she got, before sheer size scared off anyone else. She'd been building EDI a robotic body to take care of that urge when interrupted.
"That's good to hear, we need our top scientist at her best for this project," the Elusive man said, sending a file to Miranda's wrist mounted smart computer.
Miranda bit down a response that she wouldn't be at her physical best until she couldn't walk. Once she'd been tall and leggy, with body flat low enough to flaunt a four pack but still packing DD breasts and a breathtaking bubble butt. That was more than three hundred pounds ago, over the years Miri had more than tripled in size to an elephantine 460lbs, making her the fattest human being in nearly a hundred years.That model's face was swollen with fat, her cheeks chipmonk round and three bags of chips away from joining with her three wobbling chins into a genuine jowl. Forget a girlish waistline, her sagging and multifolded stomach was like a 1/4th deflated beach ball, Miranda wearing a specially designed gidle to keep it up off of her knees. Long, muscled legs that had set the Australian record for the 6Km run in high school now waddled near uselessly, her knees and ankles swelling from pressure if she stood too long and feet so flat she had to wear flats. There wasn't a seat made for human beings that could hold her sprawling ass, the cellulite covered domes that sagged down to her thighs needed Krogan grade chairs lest she snap them. She still had big boobs, immense 44G tear drops bigger than her head that didn't even sag, but upper arms the size of pillows pushing into them just made them get in the way.
"I'm as good as I'm going to get right now," Miranda smiled, dimples forming in her tubby cheeks, "what's the mission?"
"Not what, who," the elusive man said as Miranda raised a plump wrist to her face, her blue eyes widening as she read.
"Commander Shepard...but he's dead!" Miri protested, "Dead as dead gets, asphyxiated in orbit, hard vaccuum exposure, re-entry impacted onto Vermire and frozen solid by every report!"
"Death is merely... a temporary state," the Illusive Man smiled, "We've secured Alan Shepard's body, all we need now is for you to revive them. You'll have a limitless budget and whatever team you require, as well as a major galaxy class space station to work on."
Miranda considered it, tapping what remained of her firm jawline in a recently acquired habit. Reviving the dead was well...there was no better way to put your name in the history book. On the other hand, she'd probably have to wear clothes, most of the time she was alone, dictating to virtual coworkers or supervising robots from a desk. She'd gotten the call to return to Cerberus' main base only to find she'd outgrown most of her customized clothing, only this skin tight black skirt and white blouse fitting and even then, not very well. The skirt was down 1/3rd of its buttons, with number two a hiccup away from going too, while the blouse only had 5 out of 8 left. She might need to get some body suits custom made again...
"I can do it, but I'll need some help," Miranda decided, opening up the digital display on her wrist, the computer just barely fitting around the pudge.
First she scheduled a fitting for some new jump suits. Then she ordered vast amounts of rations and a robotic chef and then she looked at possible candidates for her team:
"First I'll need....
Dr. Liara T'Soni an expert in data management and prothean technology, Liara can help manage the cutting edge research. But more important storywise, Liara has been grief eating more than a bit since the death of her mother and boyfriend back to back...
Tali Vas''Zorah when Shepard's back to life he'll be more machine than man, who better to help with that than an expert in robotics and engineering? Of course, Tali's been getting a bit thick as most Quarians do at 20....
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author