Yet another commission from the talented  Wilhelm478 :)

The armored personnel carrier creaked in protest beneath Blue’s colossal weight, its shocks straining with soft metallic groans as the bloated raptor struggled to reposition herself atop the roof. She had wedged herself into the machine gun turret, barely. Her immense gut, hanging out in front of her like a vast and heavy apron, poured over the rim like rising dough spilling from a too-small mold, completely engulfing the weapon mount of the rubber bullet loaded turret gun, rendering it entirely inaccessible. Her blubbery torso overflowed the turret’s panels on all sides, thick rolls of grey scaled lard slumping over the edges and sagging down. The weapon’s trigger assembly was buried under her sagging middle, hidden beneath the soft, quivering curtain of gut blubber that jiggled with every breath she took and each uncomfortable squirm.
Blue strained weakly, her flabby, untrained arms squishing uselessly against her own sides as she tried to lift the wall of belly off the weapon. “Urrghhh… c-come on…” she wheezed, cheeks puffing as she leaned forward and pressed her thick forearms into the doughy shelf of her stomach. The sheer softness absorbed the effort without giving, sagging lower instead with a sticky sounding schlorp as it slumped further over the gun, obscuring all but the barrel. She gasped as she recovered from this strenuous workout, then let out a deep belch that echoed inside the metal shell of the vehicle. “Ugh, okay… okay. Little help?” she called out weakly.
From the ground, Delta’s voice snapped over the comms. “Blue. That turret was supposed to be operational two minutes ago. What’s going on up there?”
Charlie’s voice chimed in with her usual teasing. “Is she stuck again? Or is she just taking another burger break?”
Blue’s chubby face flushed red, sweat beading under her chins. “I am trying!” she grunted, voice breathy and defensive. “It’s just… ngh… wedged a little, that’s all!”
“You mean you’re wedged,” Charlie muttered under her breath.
“Echo,” Delta barked. “Can you see what she’s doing from your angle?”
Echo sighed audibly. “She’s not doing anything but jiggling, that’s what I’m seeing. The gun’s completely buried under her gut. She’s just pawing at it like a hatchling.”
Blue huffed again, trying to shift her weight, her belly wobbling like a massive gelatin mold in protest. “I just… if I could lift it, ugh, I would! It’s not exactly easy with a gut this heavy, you know!”
Her arms strained, buried deep in the flab of her own chest and stomach. Even trying to wrap them around the vast mass was a trial. The sleeveless shoulders of her stretched tank top dug into her flabby upper arms, where thick rolls of pudge bulged out from it’s restraint. Her gut heaved and sloshed forward with every shift, covering the entire console of the turret. She tried sliding back, but the turret walls pressed snugly against her love handles and hips, and her bulging ass already squished against the back panel, soft flesh bunching and spilling over the tight rim.
“You shouldn’t be this heavy, Blue,” Echo said, climbing up to the side with arms crossed. “You’re just lounging around all day stuffing your face, oh my god. You do have food back here.”
Behind Blue, crammed into a small nook of the vehicle’s roof, were several paper bags sagging with grease stains and stacked with wrapped cheeseburgers, fries, and a family sized soda. Blue’s eyes flicked back toward it with visible longing.
“I was gonna eat that after we secured the area!” she snapped defensively, even as her stomach let out a gurgling growl of anticipation.
“You can’t even turn around the way you’re wedged in there,” Charlie snorted.
Blue groaned as she gave one final push with her weak, flabby arms. Her belly barely budged. Instead, her own effort caused another belch to bubble out, followed by a wheezing gasp. “Okay! Fine! Maybe I’m a little stuck!” she cried, slapping one pudgy hand atop the swell of her gut with frustration, the slap muffled by how deep her hand sank into the plush flab.
There was a long pause.
Echo sighed, voice softening just slightly. “You know we’re trying to keep you included, right? But we can’t if you can’t even touch the weapon, Blue.”
“I didn’t ask to be deployed like this,” Blue muttered under her breath, sulking as her belly groaned from the pressure. “You all said I’d get to ride and relax. That sounded fine.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a joyride buffet on the roof,” Delta snapped. “You’re security, not a fat tourist.”
Blue’s stomach gurgled again, unconcerned with the emotional tension in the air as she slumped against the turret housing, cheeks puffed in defeat. She didn’t even try to reach for the gun again, not when her gut was winning the battle against her own flabby arms, not when the scent of hot fries was wafting temptingly behind her.
“...Maybe we just move the burgers up front next time,” she mumbled, voice trailing off.
Echo rolled her eyes. “You are unbelievable.”
Blue, exhausted, pinned and smothered in her own flab, couldn’t even disagree.