![]() Her growing belly though was starting to pool out in front of her, between her spread legs, slapping against her thick calves every time the cart jostled or bumped on the road. Her gigantic breasts were still the most arresting thing about her figure, two vast orbs like weather balloons, wrapped tightly in her megasize tankery uniform, and kept in place by enough industrial-strength cargo harness to secure an elephant. Dealing with the trials and tribulations of the tankery team hadn’t dampened Maho’s appetite, and after the events of the previous year she had finally stress-eaten her way to immobility, having packed on a quarter ton of soft fat around her middle. Koume kept a hand on the throttle, her little Kettenkrad working overtime to tow Maho’s mobility platform through Saunders’ perfect suburban streets. Maho flipped through her organizer as the pair approached their destination. ![]() I’ll let the helm know about our change of course.” Carrying just over 460 pounds on her uniformed frame, Koume herself was no toothpick, and beads of sweat dripped down her bangs as she did her work. Her wavy-haired, demure assistant was panting slightly, wringing out the handkerchief she’d been using to wipe the commander’s brow as she sat in the hot noonday sun. you guys should come over here an’ celebrate! Party at my place, how about that?” Kay’s voice was almost drowned out by the sound of music and cheering from the other end of the line. It hadn’t even been their match, but Saunders would take any excuse for a party. Out here on the field of battle, the cell reception was shoddy at best, but Maho thought she could make out confetti sprinkled on and around the blurry pink mass. Despite her clammy grip blocking half the screen, Maho could see a substantial amount of pudge wobbling, Kay filling the image borders entirely. “Hell yeah you did! You knocked their socks off, just like good old times!” Kay pumped her fist. The arrangement was the result of a special dispensation under the rules that nearly every team captain had been granted lately, or at least the ones that still concerned themselves with things like leadership. Maho had commanded them from a nearby, snack-laden hilltop, her relatively limber assistant Koume holding the walkie-talkie to her mouth as she fed herself and barked orders. ![]() Their tanks were so bad, in fact, that it hadn’t mattered at all that the Kuromorimine tanks had all been crewed by first-semester freshmen with barely a dozen hours’ training, the only girls their famed team had been able to muster who could still fit in their vehicles. The other team, Chi-Ha-Tan Academy, was at a significant material disadvantage. It had been a bit of a stomp, if she had to be honest. ” The heavily obese commander of Kuromorimine Girls’ High School frowned down into the camera, peering over her bulging chin-stack as she did. “That was a helluva match, a helluva match!” Kay’s tinny voice emanated from the phone held in Maho’s pudgy hand, the fatty mound of her thumb obscuring much of the image. ![]() “Woo-hoo!” Spittle and bits of half-chewed food flecked the screen. ![]() Warning: Contains extreme obesity, light slob, gas ![]()
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