Cafe Slobby

Sorry, I keep forgetting to schedule stuff.

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Series: Nikke

Characters: Commander, Frima, Sugar, Milk

Contains: Female weight gain, slob

Commission

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The Commander walked toward Cafe Sweety. It was a coffee shop in the Ark run by three Tetra Nikke. One of those three, Frima, had missed her tenth scheduled counseling session in a row. These sessions were important for recording a Nikke’s current mental and physical health. 

“Honestly, I can understand if the cafe is busy, but ten sessions?” The Commander murmured and shook his head. He opened the door of the cafe and found it empty. No guests, no employees. The first was no surprise as the cafe was a wreck. Trash was strewn about, and a strong smell polluted the air. The Commander held his sleeve over his nose to block the smell as he entered.

The Commander looked over the counter. Frima often slept behind it, but she wasn’t there. If she wasn’t working, then Milk or Sugar should have been here. “Ok…” The man murmured and looked around. He could search, but he had no idea where to start.

PPPPBBBBBBBFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!

He had one idea of where to start.

The trumpeting sound had come from behind a door labeled Staff Only. The Commander opened this door and was hit with a veritable wall of stench. He began coughing, which unfortunately caused him to breathe in more of the foul air. 

As the coughing fit subsided, more bursts of sound and scents filled the area.

BUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP! FFFFRRRRRRRTTTTTT! HOOOOOUUUUURRRRRRPPPPP! PPPPPBBBBBBBFFFFFFRRRRRRTTTT!

The origin of this sound was Frima, asleep on a break room couch. On was a way to put it. In reality, Frima filled and overflowed the couch. Many Nikke through the Ark had gained weight recently. Few let themselves go like Frima, though.

In totality, Frima’s body was balanced. Fat painted every part of her with clear detail. Her sleeping face was round and full, puffy cheeks melding seamlessly with a creased double chin. Her neck was hardly noticeable beneath the extra chin and thickness of her shoulders. 

Frima’s jacket made it difficult to tell how thick her arms were. However, the puffy sleeves looked more taut than usual. The Commander could only assume they were filled to the brim with sweat-dappled fat. It could be said Frima had built in pillows for arms, but that was probably an over exaggeration. 

The rest of Frima’s body was easier to view. Her breasts were full and large, each the size of her head. Her shirt struggled to contain them, and one boob threatened to flop free. The Commander wanted to adjust her shirt as it probably shifted in her sleep. It was a struggle to get closer, though. The air around Frima was twice as dense as it had been in the cafe. Frima’s shirt also looked entirely soaked with sweat. 

Her belly was vast and rolling, so slick with sweat that it shone in the light. It was merely soft beneath her chest. A sheath of flesh had padded the middle of her abdomen. The rest bulged out like an upside-down muffin. It was a massive, flabby ring of flesh that curled around her entire front. Love handles and the front of her belly had been completely overtaken by it. It was so fat that it alone could have taken up the entire middle of the couch. Lying sideways, one half of the belly squished against the backrest, while the other flowed over the front of the couch. This flesh also rolled down across the top of Frima’s bulging thighs. It was a testament to her gluttony, with bits of food stains, some dried, some fresh, added to it. That made the Commander think that part of the smell was likely because Frima stopped bathing.

Frima’s legs were stuffed into black jeans. They used to have decorative rips and tears in them, but her weight gain had created new ones. Strips of fabric tried to hold strong as pale flesh bulged around them. Unexposed areas were tightly wrapped in fabric. It was clear that this partially compressed them, but not by much. They were still visibly soft, every curve rounded and supple. They squished against the couch and each other, flab morphing slightly from pressure and weight. 

“I’m not surprised.” The Commander said as he approached Frima. “Frima, wake up. We need to talk.”

Frima didn’t stir. It made sense she wouldn’t awaken from The Commander’s voice. Each burst of gas she released was much louder than he’d spoken. 

“Frima!”

FRRRRRRTTTTTT!

“Frima!” 

BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPP!

“Frima!” The Commander grabbed Frima and tried to shake her awake. She was too heavy to jostle thoroughly. All she did was wobble and release more gas. Touching her also coated The Commander’s hands in sweat, making it harder to grip.

Physical means bore no fruit. So, The \nd Commander resorted to his backup plan. He pulled a bar of splendamin from his pocket. He opened it with a barely audible shrrp.

“Eh?” Frima murmured and sniffed the air. One hand rose sluggishly. She shifted her sleep mask to expose one eye. It locked on the splendamin before the Commander. 

“Good morning, Frima.” The Commander said, allowing his tone to come off sharp.

Frima blinked before she fully removed her sleep mask. Her hands then set to work scratching herself. Blubber morphed around pudgy fingertips. “Hey, you.” She yawned and shifted her position. The couch groaned loudly beneath her. She ignored that and lazily reached for the snack.

The Commander let Frima have it. “You’ve been skipping our sessions.” 

Frima placed the splendamin to her lips and sucked it down in one gulp. “Wha? No, been busy.” She replied. “By the time I get out of bed and eat, sessions are over.” She stretched, blasting a loud BRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT as she did. “Should do them here. Easier.”

“Alright, fine. Let’s do the session here.” The Commander pulled out his phone. He would need to document what Frima said. “First, do you think your weight has negatively impacted you?”

“No. It’s great.” Frima patted the side of her belly. It wobbled with each tap, just as shiny with sweat as when The Commander arrived. 

The Commander stared, unsure what to feel exactly. Annoyed was a top contender. “Is there anything your weight has caused you to struggle with?” There was no answer. “Frima?” The Commander looked past his phone to see Frima with both hands extended.

It was easier to see how fat Frima’s arms were when she held them out. Fat that had been masked by the jacket now visibly sagged. That hardly seized attention when both of Frima’s hands were stained with everything she’d eaten that day…maybe the day before, too.

“Sitting up, help.” Frima groped at the air impatiently. 

The Commander sighed and took Frima’s hands. He ignored how sticky they felt and started to pull. Even his occasional bouts of strength did little to help him. Pulling Frima felt like lifting tungsten. 

That was because Frima did nothing to help. She stared lazily as The Commander gave it his all to lift her. She smiled softly as she felt her body shift, her back lifting from the couch. This revealed a massive sweat stain that perfectly matched her silhouette.

“Great job. Keep going.” Frima yawned before her stomach gurgled. Sitting up put more pressure on her belly. It was squeezed between her thighs and chest until-

BRRRRMMMMMffffffffrrrrttttttBWWWWMMMMMRRRRRPPPPP!

The sound fluctuated as Frima’s position changed. It went from being muffled by her thighs and the couch, eventually elevating to a more rumbling PPPPPBBBBBBBFFFFFFFRFRRRRRTTTTT as she finally sat up. 

The Commander dropped into an open seat, exhausted. He panted heavily only to cough. Something about Frima’s latest gas made the air harder to breathe.

Frima didn’t care. She rubbed her stomach lazily, her expression relaxed. “Feels better.” She murmured and then started to scratch herself. Again, fat rolled around her fingers. She only stopped to grab snacks from a nearby table, which she promptly stuffed into her mouth.

Recovering, The Commander looked at Frima. Her upright position revealed her ass. It had been hidden beneath her bulk, but now its full size was there. Whereas the legs of Frima’s jeans were bursting at the seams, the back looked ready to split down the middle. It was like a dam being forced to retain two gargantuan marshmallows. The entire upper halves of the cheeks were visible, and they pushed against the struggling waistband. Some fat rolled over, similar to a muffin top, only interrupted by Frima’s butt crack.

‘I guess the couch was absorbing most of the smell…’ The Commander theorized. “Um, next question. Have you considered losing weight? Or bathing?”

“Nope!” The reply was the quickest thing Frima had ever done. “Losing we-oooooouurrrppp-ight? Hard. Bathing? UUUURRRRPPPP Boring.” She leaned back and wobbled her belly. “Being fat? Satisfying.”

The Commander buried his face in his hands. “You’re killing me here, Frima. Figuratively and Literally.”

“Dramatic,” Frima said, lifting one leg. She grunted before releasing another trumpeting BRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFRFTTTTTT before she settled. 

“...Next question. How does your team feel about…this?” The Commander was at his wits' end. He just hoped that Milk and Sugar had some plan to deal with Frima.

“S’fine,” Frima replied.

The break room door swung open with a BANG!

“Dammit, Frima! I told you to get your fat ass up and watch the cafe!” Milk bellowed and spilled into the break room.

Yes, squeezed into the break room. To The Commander’s mental detriment, Milk was almost as obese as Frima. She was focused on Frima but faltered when she noticed him. “Hi, Milk…”

Milk’s cheeks turned bright pink. “P-Pal?!” Milk’s stomach started to gurgle ominously. Seeing The Commander (mostly being seen in her current state) made her anxious. Too much milk-coffee caused her stomach to roil and blast a noxious BBBRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT into the cafe.

“Watch it,” Sugar’s voice sounded. The third member of Cafe Sweety pushed past Milk, revealing she was equally obese. “Hey, Partner.” She spoke nonchalantly and sat next to The Commander, unaware or uncaring of her excessive sweat and musty smell.

The smell in the room had somehow gotten worse. It was hardly tolerable at first, but now it was unbearable. There was no way to escape, though. Milk and Sugar blocked the door, and Frima continued to blast more gas. It was enough to make The Commander feel faint.

It indeed did get worse as Milk fully entered the break room. Her gas was added to the further pollution of the air. The Commander had no way to know, but Milk ate constantly. Even now, crumbs littered her extra chins, and food stains dotted her outfit. 

Milk’s body was even in its fat distribution. She wasn’t as fat as Frima, but managed to be just as gassy. That could be because her stamina hadn’t faltered with her weight. She grew fatter, her stomach was ruined by constant binge eating, but she remained just as physically active. The latter part coated her in a constant sheen of sweat. Even in fluorescent light, patches of Milk’s skin shone.

Her face was rounded, with full cheeks and a single extra chin. It looked petite compared to her broad shoulders and bulbous arms. Her arms weren’t lopsided or sagging. It was evenly coated in a cylindrical sheath of pudge. It rolled to her elbow, after which her arm slimmed steadily to her wrists.

Milk’s breasts were hardly large before, but now they contended with the most stacked Nikke in the Arc. Her shirt stretched around a full, deep cleavage. Sweat droplets constantly ran over the upper curves, forming a stream between her breasts.

This liquid flowed over a compact, rounded belly. It didn’t sag far. There was only enough to roll over the waistband of her jeans. However, that curve carried around to her love handles in a full muffin top. The constant rounded shape was likely caused by her non-stop eating. Her belly never got the chance to settle or turn flabby. 

Milk’s hips were decently wide. Each side had caught on the break room doorway, but her sweat had helped her slip through. Though Milk’s hips were certainly more narrow than Frima’s…so how did Frima get in here?

The Commander ignored that. He needed to try to get out of here. “Hey, I was just on my way out-” The Commander stepped back, further from the door. He had tried to go behind Milk, but the Nikke let out a noxious burst of gas.

“Sorry about that.” Milk cleared her throat, only for the strain to make her fart again. “I won’t ignore the elephant in the room. That one turned into a lazy fat ass and dragged us down with her!” 

“Lie.” Frima had pulled a sandwich out of seemingly nowhere. She bit into it, smearing condiments across her face. “Not like I fed them.” 

Frima had a point. The Commander looked back at Milk, who seemed more flustered. She looked away and waddled over to Frima. This gave the Commander an opening…and a view of Milk’s ass. It wasn’t as large as Frima’s, but it was surprisingly round. Nothing near as flabby and sagging as Frima’s saddle bag cheeks. That was likely because her pants squeezed and shaped it, most likely. It’d be nice to look at if not for the constant stream of horrendous smells.

The Commander dodged before another burst could directly hit him. However, Sugar now occupied the space Milk had. “Hey, Partner.” She greeted him, unbothered by their close contact. She seemed as calm and collected as ever. 

Sugar was obese. Her weight had to be close to Milk’s. Her belly was much smaller by comparison, though. It was a round gut, but only the lower part of it peeked out from under her shirt. It came with flabby love handles that rested upon decently wide hips. The entire front of her pants had a developed muffin top. A place where fat gently curled over the waistband that harshly pinched them. It was enough fat to hold in one’s palm, enough to curl fingers around and squeeze. However, the texture was so slick and sweaty that a faint squeeze would free it from anyone’s grip. 

The biggest issue Sugar seemed to have was her ill-fitting pants. They were barely able to stretch around her lower body. They were strained around her thighs, but that looked manageable. Her ass almost hung out of them, though. The entire top of her butt cheeks was exposed, and she displayed a pronounced plumber’s crack. 

Her breasts were slightly larger, as were her arms, and her face was noticeably rounded. She was so calm that it was hard to focus on her increased weight.

Not her sweat, though.

The Commander had thought Milk was sweaty, but Sugar looked like she had hiked through a desert. The brief bump into her had soaked the front of his uniform in sweat. Sugar had even spread some of the stains from her outfit to his.

Sugar’s cheeks and neck shone, droplets trickled between her cleavage, and the exposed part of her belly dripped. Her ass shared all of these things. Then, just like the others, HHRRRRRRMMMMMMMMPPPPPP!

“Sorry,” Sugar gestured to the two. “Frima was the first to put on weight. I can’t really remember how, but Milk and I ended up doing the same. We sure aren’t blameless.” She leaned against the wall next to the Commander. This was still enough to block his escape. “It’s weird. Nikke can gain weight, apparently, but losing it doesn’t work out.” She held her fist in front of her mouth and belched into it, releasing a muffled UURRRRRPPPPP.

‘Fantastic.’ The Commander thought and looked between the three. It felt like the only future would be one with a fatter Cafe Sweety. He could only wonder how much worse their gas would get if they gained more weight. “I see, anyway, I think it’s time I head out!” 

Sugar raised an eyebrow. “Why so BUUUURRRRPPPP soon? Here, let me get you HOOOUUURRRRPPPP a nice sugar coffee.”

“Hu-BOOOOOOOUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP-h?” Frima asked.

“THE URP HELL YOU WILL!” Milk bellowed. She stomped over and wrapped an arm around The Commander’s shoulder. This squished him against the smelly Nikke. Her strength, like her odor, was inescapable. “I’m gonna make The Commander a m-buurr-ilk coffee!”

“No, cream coffee!” Frima moved quicker than expected. She threw her weight forward and let it carry her. This slammed her into the Commander and Milk. Both were squished against her fatter form, and the pressure on her and Milk’s stomachs unleashed a torrent of gas from her.

BBBBWWWWWWWWMMMMMMMMPPPPPPRRRRRRTTTTTT!

This was followed by a smaller blast from Milk.

PRRRRRRRTTTTTTT!

The Commander wanted to cover his nose, but his arms were pinned down! “I’m fine, really! No need for coffee!”

“Why?” Sugar asked. “There’s no reason to visit Cafe Sweety and not have a single coffee. Come on.” Sugar got closer and grabbed the Commander. Her attempt to pull him free brought her closer and jostled the others.

BUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPP!

BRRRRRRTTTTT!

HOOOUUURRRRPPPPPPPP!

PPPPPBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRTTTT!

The Commander was assailed from all directions. His uniform was further soaked in sweat and smudged with food stains. The air was foul and unpalatable, but he couldn’t break free. He tried to wriggle, but this made things even worse. He started to feel lightheaded, and his knees buckled. This brought his head closer to chest level. It was slight, but it brought him closer to the source of the noxious fumes. His last fleeting thought was something along the lines of not investigating Nikkes, who skipped their counseling sessions…

THE END