'Pigs' Pun Goes Here

The suspect took a sharp right, cutting the wrong way around a roundabout to a discordant symphony of squealing tires, bellowing horns and wailing police sirens. She’d lose him if she took the long way around, and so with a grimace Miranda followed him, steering wheel chafing over the bloated dome of her gut as she wrenched it around clockwise to pursue.

The suspect had robbed a jewellery store on the lower side of town and – typical! – Miranda had been the only officer in the area, indulging herself in a few of those divine cream-filled doughnuts that they sold by the docks. The chopper was grounded for repairs, and backup was ten minutes away minimum; she was going to have to bring this guy in herself.

She swerved around a corner, feeling her rump and love handles flatten up against the door of the car as the sheer momentum of her body tried to resist being coaxed into this new direction, and tried to encourage herself. She could do this. She was a police officer! Sure, it had been… a little while, maybe, since she’d last actually arrested someone, but she was still capable!

And as if on cue, the suspect ahead of her flipped his vehicle.

Sparks flew as the car skipped along the asphalt, metal screaming as shatterproof glass burst across the pavement in little squares, and the upside-down car careened off the road. It slammed into a chain-link fence, momentum finally spent, and came to a battered, smoking halt at the foot of a grimy warehouse.

Miranda slammed on the brakes herself – a little too hastily, as it turned out. The seatbelt jammed in between her flabby breasts and her gut rammed up against the steering column, even the substantial cushioning afforded by her belly doing little to alleviate the jolt to her overfull stomach. Groaning, she pulled on the handbrake and climbed painfully from the car, rubbing her midsection gingerly as she picked her way towards the wreck. She knew she shouldn’t have eaten that last bag of doughnuts – oh, her poor stomach…

She approached the flipped vehicle, squinting at it uncertainly as she drew closer. With any luck the suspect would have knocked himself unconscious and she could just sit by and wait for the ambulance. Maybe she’d even be commended for catching the guy – that’d show the guys back at the precinct!

A figure rolled from the wreckage.
“Stay right where you are!” she squeaked on instinct, fumbling for her taser, her pepper spray, her baton, but found nothing but the Snickers she’d shoved into her belt earlier that morning, “F-freeze!”

The suspect took a look at her, glanced at her empty hands, at the thick roll of fat bulging down over her waistband towards her thighs – and ran.

Cursing herself, Miranda sprinted after him.
Well, as much as she could sprint, anyway. Her feet pounded the concrete as she heaved herself laboriously after him, body bouncing wildly around her on every side like she was in the eye of a tornado. Her already-aching gut slapped against her thighs with every heavy step, getting in the way almost as much as her thick, flabby thighs themselves did; her oversized breasts jumped and bounced, rising almost to her chin before smacking back down onto her gut with each waddling stride; her rump itself wobbled wildly, thick padding of fat taking on a life of its own over muscles that already felt like they were on fire; she could even feel her back fat jiggling, quivering folds barely contained by her undersized button-up shirt as she barrelled clumsily after the suspect.

Despite her efforts though he was already easily pulling ahead, outpacing her lethargic waddle-run with minimal effort. Fortunately for Miranda, luck was on her side – she rounded a corner into an alley between two warehouses and found her prey trapped. His back was against another chain-link fence, razor-wire at the top preventing any escape but back through the mouth of the alley where Miranda now stood.

Gasping for breath, Miranda leaned against the wall for support. She fumbled at her hip again, this time successfully drawing her taser and pointing it vaguely in his direction.
“Don’t… don’t move or I’ll… I’ll shoot,” she managed to wheeze, head pounding as sweat dripped down her nose. She hadn’t been so exhausted since… maybe ever. Certainly not in the past few years – she’d made a determined effort to do as little exercise as possible in that time – and even before then, nothing had so thoroughly drained her as this short, simple run. Her shirt was grey with sweat beneath her arms and where the material was pinched between the flabby folds of her belly and sides, and it had escaped her belt as she ran, riding up to reveal the flushed bulk of her underbelly drooping over her waistband. She was a mess – but at least she’d caught the guy.

“Miranda Steele? The mayor’s daughter?”

Miranda blinked.”
“Wh… what?” she huffed, confused, “Do I know you?”

“Yeah!” the suspect laughed, raising his head a little, “You put me away for that store job five years ago. Remember?”
She stared, eyes widening as she recognised the man’s face.
“Wait, Danny Poll? I thought you were still in jail.”
“They let me out,” he cocked his head, “Jeez though, what happened to you? And I thought the last five years were hard on me!”
Miranda flushed.
“S-so I put on a few pounds since we last met. I still caught you, didn’t I?” she tried to tuck her shirt back into her belt with her free hand, but the sheer volume of flab spilling over her waistband necessitated two hands at minimum.
“A few pounds? Darlin’, I barely recognised you,” he laughed, “Man, this is too good. I’ve been dreamin’ about getting back at you for years, but it looks like you’ve gone done it for me.” He was enjoying this, and stung, Miranda pointed the taser straight at his face.
“Quit it! You’ll have plenty of time to laugh when you’re back on the inside. Now turn around and put your hands up, or I’ll tase you.” Her arm was unsteady, lazy muscles unused to holding anything heavier than a doughnut for any amount of time, but slowly Danny turned around.

“Alright, alright. You got me.”
She eyed him suspiciously as slowly she approached, keeping her taser trained on him.
“Yeah I did. Now get down on the ground, face down, and put your hands behind your back.”
He complied, and already Miranda could see the medal being pinned to her shirt, see everyone at the station applauding, reluctantly admitting that she was a great police officer after all, that they’d all been wrong, and that they’d baked her a little something to apologise for judging her.
Licking her lips, she stood over Danny, and went to holster her taser, carefully extricating her plump finger from the tight trigger guard.

And then Danny kicked her hard in the shin.
She jumped, fat finger jolting, and there was a pop as the taser fired – straight into her own left thigh. Lightning spiked through her and she fell straight forwards, flabby muscles constricting all at once, and Danny rolled aside a millisecond before being pressed flat by her hefty bulk. Groaning, Miranda lay face down on the floor where Danny had been just a moment earlier, trying to remember how to breathe. The muscles of her body were sizzling beneath their flabby blankets and she tried to roll over, but froze as she felt Danny’s foot press down on her, boot sinking a little into her soft rump.
“Too easy,” he chuckled, reaching down and taking something from her belt. She squeezed her eyes shut, fearing the sting of pepper spray, but then she heard a crinkle of foil, then a taste of chocolate as he shoved a chunk of Snickers bar into her mouth, “There you go. Keep eatin’ like this, and next time we meet I won’t even have to run to get away.”
For a moment she lay there, mouth slowly working as she reflexively ate the chunk of chocolate, then suddenly his boot lifted from her rump and she heard it thudding against the concrete as he sprinted off down the alley, leaving her alone with scorched muscles, aching belly, and the distant sound of approaching sirens as backup finally arrived.

Groaning, Miranda propped herself up against the wall, pulled the taser darts from her thigh, and despondently ate the rest of the Snickers.