Breaking Down Cultural Boundaries With Big Bellies

(Overwatch)

Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova and Mei-Ling Zhou may have been assigned to fight on the same team within Overwatch and they may have even been born on the same side of the globe, hailing from countries that were literally touching each other, but they hardly ever exchanged any words if at all. No wonder, though, when they could have been compared to each other like night and day for the most part, in the opinions of their other teammates. One was Russian and the other was Chinese. They both spoke in English, albeit heavily-accented, yet they were more fluently accustomed to native tongues. Zarya was towering, built like a war tank and prideful to a fault whereas Mei was vertically-challenged, a tad plump and more concerned with the environment than proving her prowess. Mei was also several years older than Zarya, although she certainly doesn't look it.

For what few similarities they had, there were also a myriad of differences to go along with it. They did not hate one another, at least not openly, but Zarya and Mei didn't seem like a pair that would ever be able to get along in any friendly manner. However, this was all before the two of them decided to take the initiative themselves and begin breaking down the boundaries through the use of something that every person could relate to and enjoy: food. There was no need to learn another language or a separate set of customs and beliefs when food could be easily shared regardless of one's origins . It seemed like the perfect solution. In fact, Zarya and Mei got a little too much into taste-testing one another's ethnic cuisine. They went from eating together every week to eating together every day. There was a point where it seemed like the focus on food began to take away from focus on the battle.

"Did you know that there are eight different kinds of regional cuisine in China?"

Mei asked this question to the larger woman beside her right before she proceeded to scoop up a pelmeni, a small Russian dumpling filled with mince meat, onto her fork. The scientist woman had become quite a large fan of Russian cuisine as of late. It was all thanks to Zarya's introduction of it to her. The two of them had agreed to present each other at least one new dish every week to try. Zarya was, by her own admission, not much of a cook, but she knew a fellow chef from her homeland who gladly prepared the meals for her. Mei slipped the tiny dumpling into her mouth and bit into it with a happy mewl. She took a free hand to briefly reach down and undo her belt by another notch. Lately it seemed like everything she wore, even her favorite arctic coat, had begun to feel so terribly constrictive on her body. For someone who fought wielding a freezing ray, she'd felt unbearably warm too.

Zarya herself, who was quite distracted crunching her way through a jar full of recently-fermented pickles, gave both a curt nod and a muffled grunt to prove that she was still listening. She had always been a big eater since the very beginning, as maintaining her bulk and size required a steady diet of protein, protein and more protein, along with some things. It was only as of late that her appetite seemed like it was starting to get out of hand. Zarya never worried, however. In her mind, bigness equated to might and might equated to right. So there was really no problem here that she could tell. Not only that, but all of the reservations she'd first had toward the idea of trying genuine Chinese cuisine went right out after her first bite. She may as well have called herself hooked on the stuff.

"Those - MMPH - cuisines are...!" Mei took a momentary pause to swallow another dumpling. "Those cuisines are Anhui, Cantonese, Fujian-"

Zarya suddenly released a rumbling belch when she opened her mouth. "I, uh, am sorry to interrupt you, Mei, but if you can pass me that plate of chicken with chilies, that would be a very, uh, NICE gesture."

"Hee hee! Sure! Let me get that for you!" Mei grabbed the hot plate and passed it over to Zarya, who immediately began scooping the chicken and peppers into her mouth. "Yes, the chicken with chilies! Back home, we call it La Zi Jī! That dish is most well known from the Sichuan province in China! In fact, I was about to list Sichuan as one of the eight regional cuisines!"

"Mmm! Very delicious!" the enormous Russian woman happily proclaimed. Her cheeks were bulging so fully that they wobbled as she spoke.

"Hmm. I am very happy that you think my country's food is so good."

"Yes! Of course! The meat, the chicken, the rice, the vegetables! I cannot say that a single thing I have eaten with you in these past several months has been anything but the most delicious I have had in years! Ha ha ha!"

"I agree as well. Russian cuisine...I had not known that it would appeal to me so well. I should have tried it sooner! Dú wàn juǎn shū bùrú xíng wànlǐ lù. In this case, with food, hee hee!"

Zarya had no idea what the other woman said. Instead of asking, she kept on eating.

Mei initially wished to continue their lesson on regional cuisines, but observing Zarya's unabashed gluttony was beginning to make her feel pangs of hunger too. The dumplings had since been polished off and the platter already put aside. However, something was driving her, something that even she with all of her intelligence could not simply ignore, that drove her want to keep eating. As if she needed to be given any more reason to keep gorging, the bespectacled woman's poor tummy was swiftly and violently wracked with serious hunger pains. She made a desperate grab for the skewers of lamb and onions, the shashlik, sitting on the table in front of her. However, she did not get very far before she heard a very audible ripping sound come from behind her. She peered over her shoulder to see that a tear had opened up on her sleeve. A bubble of pale skin popped out.

"What the...? Oh, oh my!" Mei gasped. She tried moving her arm, but that only led to the sleeve ripping open wider. When she used her other arm to try and readjust the ruined sleeve, more of Mei's shirt started to give way. Everything was coming apart by the seams.

Zarya belched again. She grabbed a massive keg of yellow wine and began recklessly chugging it down. This act was soon followed by breaking belts and snapping straps as her uniform began to come undone. With the last strap coming apart, Zarya's uniform rolled up high enough so that her enormous and pliable gut could come flopping out in full view of both women. What had surely once been a smooth six-pack harder than diamonds had devolved into something big, round and DOUGHY. She must have concealed a great amount of excess skin underneath her uniform, because Zarya's belly kept flowing further and further outward. It rolled like a speeding avalanche over her waistband, across the blubbery landscape that was her thighs, and it did not stop until it just barely touched the edge of her kneecaps. Zarya cried out. She nearly spilled the plate of spicy chicken and chilies in her hands. She tried standing up, but her hips caught on the arms of the chair. She wiggled and struggled, which caused her belly to start flopping loudly against her legs as a result, but she was unable to pry herself out of her seat. Zarya let loose some kind of sound that rumbled through the room like a lion's roar.

"Ebat!" The portly human tank swore loudly in her native tongue. Zarya's chubby cheeks glowed as she glared down at her bloated self.

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck! I cannot move my legs at all! This damned piece of capitalist-designed furniture! How could it get caught on my thighs like this? And my belly...! Where did all of this come from? How could I have let myself go this badly?" Zarya resumed speaking frantically in Russian, forming what was likely a string of curse words one after another. She made her greatest attempt to escape yet. Unfortunately, roughhousing while stuck was not as good of an idea in practice as it had sounded in her head; Zarya collapsed right onto her big, chubby ass when the chair suddenly collapsed beneath her.

Zarya had failed to remain aware her own weight gain because she had always been a woman abound in muscle. She had lost track of noticing when that rock-hard muscle had metamorphosed into ooey gooey flab.

"...This is not the might I desired..." Zarya pouted with all two and a half of her chins.

Mei wasn't quite as fat as Zarya, but she had still managed to pack on a good deal of extra pounds after indulging in so much genuine Russian cooking. Enough so that her clothes were literally bursting off of her body in real time, every movement she made causing more and more holes to open up. She shrieked as a button flew off of her pants and the folds parted for belly-flesh to peek out. Mei's huskiness had never not been a part of her character, but it was a fact that she normally kept concealed inside of her over-sized coat. At this time, though, her pot-belly was finally making its grand entrance into the world, along with the chunky legs, plush arms, and especially enormous breasts she had helped grow through gluttony. Mei had thought that her shirt felt tight this morning, but she should have listened to instinct and changed into something looser. Now she was humiliating herself to a degree she hadn't once thought possible. Pudge continued to leak through every available gap. When Mei looked down, she saw nothing but two mountains partially risen out of her top. Two pale, wobbling mountains that glistened with a sweaty sheen.

"Z-Zarya..." Mei wanted to help her fallen friend. Unfortunately, she did not know if she could even help herself. She wasn't entrapped within her chair by her own body like the Russian woman had been, but Mei deathly feared the idea of standing up and having her pants split on her. The young woman attempted, with all of the slowness and caution of a snail, to get onto her own feet. Her breasts jiggled. Her butt shifted on the seat. She'd spent so much time sitting and eating, sitting and eating, she'd never really become aware of how wide her backside grew. Hell, how wide all of her had gotten. Mei grabbed hold of one of the chair's arms and used it to further prop herself up. However, her hopes of actually achieving something were quickly dashed when she suddenly slipped. It seemed that some grease had dribbled onto the floor while she'd been eating earlier.

"Oh! Oh, oh no!"

Mei fell backwards and landed right beside the stuffed and swearing Zarya. Thankfully her well-padded rear had broke the fall, but it didn't manage to soften the blow dealt to Mei's pride and self-esteem any. Her breasts flew up and slapped her in the face for good measure. That was DEFINITELY just what she needed.

"Mei..." Zarya grunted. She had stopped cursing after another minute of muttering.

"Y-Yes?" Mei was too embarrassed to look the other woman in the eye. Being the one who had originally suggested this idea, she felt a great deal of responsibility for what had happened to them and their bodies. They'd gotten so caught up in enjoying one another's cultures and food that they lose sight of their waistlines in the process.

"I think...we may...need to get ourselves...some sturdier chairs...if we are to continue eating..." wheezed out Zarya. She slapped her stomach hard to make it jiggle. She belched.

Mei nodded. Instead of belching, she just hiccuped. "That's not all we may need, Zarya."

"Indeed. Sit-ups...and push-ups...and many, many crunches."

Mei groaned. Zarya was right, but she really, really hated doing crunches. They always left her so exhausted.

Pharah and Tracer, two other teammates of the women, happened to be passing nearby at the time. They had bared witness to the entire spectacle up to this very point. Needless to say, the two of them were shocked speechless for a moment.

"Golly, did you see that?" Tracer said, taking off her visor and rubbing her eyes as if she didn't quite believe them.

"What a disastrous scene," Pharah sighed while she shook her head disapprovingly. "Those two have become too fat to properly fight alongside us anymore. I would have expected more out of Zarya, as well as Mei."

Tracer, however, seemed nothing less than enthused after watching her blubber-burdened teammates flop on the ground like fish. "You know, it's kind of fascinating! I mean, makes you want to sort of see what else could happen if you pushed them a little more, right?"

Pharah shook her head again. "You're a strange, strange little woman, you know that?"

Tracer instantly retorted, "Hey now! I'm just someone who's fascinated with the world around her! Anything wrong with that? I try to keep a cheery outlook on things, love! It's the way I've always been and the way I'll always be!"

Pharah, instead of trying to argue further with Tracer, felt a little smile dance itself onto her full lips.

"I can see that very well."

Tracer laughed and put her hands on her hips, head slightly tilted back, a cheeky grin broadening across her face. "Ain't that right?"

Pharah reached behind Tracer and gave the other woman a slap on the rear.

"Now why don't you get your brain AND your behind back to your station so we can begin preparing for the next battle?"

"Eep!"

Tracer rubbed her bottom as she watched Pharah strut away. She then looked back at Zarya and Mei. The young time-traveling British woman wondered if she could possibly create some kind of device that could help her two friends. Maybe something that would allow them to revert their weights back to a time before they had started overeating so much. Or maybe she could do something else entirely. Tracer smirked to herself. There were just so many options to choose from, she couldn't think of all of them right now.