Reward Story: Pharah Suits Up

In this story, an out-of-shape Pharah is called back into Overwatch, and has quite a bit of trouble getting into her flying combat suit!

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Pharah yawned and gave her wide, cushiony thigh a scratch. She lazily popped the top on another beer and drank half of it back, wiping foam off her lips with the back of her hand. A slow, heavy “-Bwooopph!-” of a closed-mouthed belch puffed out her chubby cheeks. Two years had passed since she was put on leave from Overwatch with nothing to do but collect her pension and relax. A career soldier, Pharah had little in the way of hobbies to occupy her time, and soon found her habits devolving into day drinking and eating take-out in front of her television. 

Pharah’s muscular, exceedingly fit figure had grown out into a well-rounded, doughily bulging cast, sporting wide hips, a wide, flabby G-cup bosom, and a double-rolled gut that formed a broad, puffy muffin shape at her waistline. Her relatively shapely but quite wide and bulging buttocks pushed past the dimensions of one sofa cushion, spilling onto the next. 

A very familiar beeping tone sounded through Pharah’s apartment just as she was popping the top of another beer. She raised an eyebrow and looked around, momentarily confused. “My transceiver? -Bwwooorph!-” Pharah pushed herself off her couch, her softened lower half wobbling in her sweatpants as she made her way over to her bedroom. Finding the transceiver beneath a stained, undersized pair of running leggings, the soldier activated it and put it to her ear, hearing a familiar voice. “Angela? ‘Emergency Reassignment’?” 

One high-speed jet ride later, Pharah found herself in the equipment room of Watchpoint Gibraltar, squeezing her out of shape frame into the undermesh of her combat suit. Pharah couldn't help but let out a small yelp as she tugged the bodysuit up her sizable hips, feeling the fabric squeeze mercilessly against her puffy crotch and the crease of her rump. As she pulled it up further, she could feel her belly pushing out the fabric and sucking it into her back rolls. “This isn’t gonna feel good.” Pharah looked down at her naked, sweaty, sensitive breasts. She yanked the bodysuit upwards, cringing as it pressed into her breasts, partially flattening them and pushing them into widened semicircular blobs. Exhaling, Pharah felt her body release a sudden, beer-fueled -PHRAAAP!- Pharah’s pretty features twisted into a mournful expression as she heard the eruption distort into a squelching, rippling whistle as the gas fought against the suit’s underfabric. Parah cursed under her breath, praying that Angela didn’t hear.

Pharah bent down with an exhausted gasp, feeling her belly go into a trio of thick rolls beneath her endosuit. She forcefully jammed her lower legs into her greaves, feeling the armor crush at her soft ankles and calves. Her upper leg armor came next, pushing at the blubber of her thighs until they jammed at her upper legs, pushing black-clad dough out in a muffin shape around its leg holes. Pharah used her fingers to cram the excess dough inwards until the leg armor locked in place...at its front. Her jutting behind stuck out behind her, hanging over the hard edges of the armor plating. Pharah hopped up and down, pressing down at her flabby behind a gas sputtered from her cheeks. Finally, it locked into place. 

Pharah picked up her armored chestplate, glaring at its tapered waist. “Here we go...” She wedged herself between the two sides of the armor and began pressing it inward, going goofily wide-eyed as the blue metal closed around her. She could feel her belly and breasts being forcibly molded into the narrow, lightly V-shaped confines of the armor. Her chest pressed into a tight, blubbery pileup of flattened cleavage, while her gut was lifted and forcibly compressed, its doughy love handles pressing uncomfortably inward. “Ouuugh...” the soldier groaned. 

“Pharah? Is everything okay?” Mercy called from the other side of the locker bank as she donned her Valkyrie suit. 

“-BWUURRPH!-” Pharah tasted beer on her tongue as she closed the clasps of the armor. “F-fine...” she gasped, fighting to breathe. Her stocky upper arms were another battle, their bulk repelling the locking clasps until Pharah slammed her shoulder into a locker to put extra force upon them. “Almost done...” she groaned, finishing donning her armor. “Ready.” She took a single, heavy step. A chorus of suit locks clunked as her jiggling form shifted within, engaging the suit’s emergency release that was primed for bodily injury. “Damn-” was all Pharah managed to utter before the plates of her armor popped off her body, slamming into her locker and the floor in a disorientingly loud mechanical din.

“What was that?!” Mercy gasped, hurrying around the lockers.

 “Umm...does this operation need any on-base logistical support?” Pharah asked, trying not to sound too ashamed.