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Weight of the Aftermath 3
The third installment in a series for 
ctcshoter77, featuring a massively fat Garrus Vakarian waddling his way to victory with Commander Shepard at his side. This time, Garrus proves he's still got all the reach and flexibility he needs to help rebuild the galaxy, even if he is hungry for more than his next challenge. Enjoy!
Garrus thought he must cut quite the sight seated at his desk; well, wedged into it, more like. C-Sec, and the Nova Citadel Station at large, had gotten accustomed to seeing Garrus as he was now; Captain Vakarian, the great, gluttonous beast of a turian that had swallowed Garrus Vakarian and Archangel whole, and taken their place as Commander Shepard's constant companion— and lover. The lean and mean sniper was now an overstuffed bureaucrat, his titanic belly pinched against the desk, his puffy, pillowy chest stretching out his uniform. His round cheeks forced space between his mandibles, thick neck and multiple chins spilling over the top of the chitinous scale around his shoulders.
He sighed, tapping away at his terminal, then frowned. He looked over the report he was about to send out; it was littered with typos. "Damn holo-keys…" the turian grumbled. His fingers were too fat for office work, it seemed. He leaned back in his chair, giving his enormous belly space to breath. He glanced down, leaning forward to see past the rim of his round middle, and saw to his consternation that his belly cut into the edge of the holo-board. He frowned, his mandibles twitching in irritation. He stretched his thick arms over his head and hefted his great weight up as he un-wedged himself from the long suffering desk chair to stand. "The sooner requisitions get off their asses and approve my custom desk, the better…" he grumbled.
"Sir!" A turian C-Sec officer approached, one of Garrus' aides named Tullus. "I got your lunch— first order, anyways." He carried in a large bag that looked big enough to cover the rations of a small platoon of turians.
ctcshoter77, featuring a massively fat Garrus Vakarian waddling his way to victory with Commander Shepard at his side. This time, Garrus proves he's still got all the reach and flexibility he needs to help rebuild the galaxy, even if he is hungry for more than his next challenge. Enjoy!<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>Garrus thought he must cut quite the sight seated at his desk; well, wedged into it, more like. C-Sec, and the Nova Citadel Station at large, had gotten accustomed to seeing Garrus as he was now; Captain Vakarian, the great, gluttonous beast of a turian that had swallowed Garrus Vakarian and Archangel whole, and taken their place as Commander Shepard's constant companion— and lover. The lean and mean sniper was now an overstuffed bureaucrat, his titanic belly pinched against the desk, his puffy, pillowy chest stretching out his uniform. His round cheeks forced space between his mandibles, thick neck and multiple chins spilling over the top of the chitinous scale around his shoulders.
He sighed, tapping away at his terminal, then frowned. He looked over the report he was about to send out; it was littered with typos. "Damn holo-keys…" the turian grumbled. His fingers were too fat for office work, it seemed. He leaned back in his chair, giving his enormous belly space to breath. He glanced down, leaning forward to see past the rim of his round middle, and saw to his consternation that his belly cut into the edge of the holo-board. He frowned, his mandibles twitching in irritation. He stretched his thick arms over his head and hefted his great weight up as he un-wedged himself from the long suffering desk chair to stand. "The sooner requisitions get off their asses and approve my custom desk, the better…" he grumbled.
"Sir!" A turian C-Sec officer approached, one of Garrus' aides named Tullus. "I got your lunch— first order, anyways." He carried in a large bag that looked big enough to cover the rations of a small platoon of turians.
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 148.4 kB
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