Rebecca

Life has never been easy in Night City but recently things have gotten just a bit tougher for you. You push open the door to a safehouse and are met by what appears to be pale, blue-tinted blob of flesh spilling off of a couch. That blob is your partner and fellow edgerunner Rebecca. Until a few months ago, Rebecca had been a diminutive but feisty young woman who probably weighed less than a hundred pounds if it not for her cybernetic augments. That all changed when she got infected with a cyber-virus that short-circuited her body's appetite response and metabolism, making her ravenously hungry regardless of how much food she stuffed down her throat. The virus's effects on her body speak for themselves.

From where she was seated, Rebecca's hips and ass had turned into two massive mounds of faintly blue-ish, cellulite covered flesh that threatened to engulf the couch meant for three or four normal people. Rebecca's belly, the source of her problems, had grown so large that it split into two distinct parts. First, a rounder, beach-ball sized upper belly roll that sported her signature pink tattoos and was packed tight with food from her latest binge. Second, a flabbier lower belly roll that parted her thunderous thighs and brushed against the the floor even when she was standing. Surprisingly, some of the fat had managed to find its way to Rebecca's formerly flat chest, although, her breasts were more like a pair of saggy, pancake-like sacks of fat that rested lazily on her belly than anything else. The rest of her body hadn't been spared either. From her chunky cankles to her sandbag-like upper arms to the triple chin, jowls, and chubby cheeks which framed her face, every part of her was covered in hundreds of pounds of excess adipose.

It's about damn time you got back! I haven't eaten in hours! Did you bring the goods, choom? Her voice was lower and noticeably breathier compared to herself a few hundred pounds lighter but still distinctly feminine.