Marnie/Petunia

Marnie knocked on the door to the ambassador's office once, then twice, and then let out a frustrated huff when there was no response. It had been hours since she'd last seen her lover—long, miserable hours—and she was more than ready to have Petunia back in her arms again, work be damned. When a third knock didn't earn her an answer, she at last let herself in without waiting any longer. Boring letters to fancy nobles could wait until another day.

“Pet? Still alive in here?”

Petunia looked up from her work briefly, managing a weary smile before she returned her attention to the papers in front of her. Even now, dark circles beneath her eyes and exhaustion written on every inch of her, she was strikingly, achingly beautiful; Marnie couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips at the sight of her. Petunia wrote as she spoke, hasty script unfolding across the page: “Darling, hello. I'm so sorry—I've been so busy today that I simply haven't been able to venture beyond my desk. I should have sent a message.”

“Not a problem, love.” Marnie tugged a chair over with her free hand and sat down in front of the desk, carefully balancing the tray she carried on a stack of books. Not a single inch of the desk was empty. “I thought you might be hungry after a long day of letter-writing. Take a break with me?”

After one more scribbled sentence, Petunia set aside her quill and looked up again. Her eyes widened with delight. The plate was full of the miniature cakes she loved so dearly,chocolate cakes coated with a raspberry icing, vanilla cakes topped with strawberries and a sprig of mint, pumpkin cakes covered with a thick, creamy frosting. Each was absurdly decadent despite its size, baked in a small cup, rich and delicious. If ever there was a reason to ignore her work, this was it. “Ah! You truly spoil me. I am a lucky woman.”

Marnie shrugged and bit back a fond smile. “It's no trouble, really. I love cooking for you. It's the least I could do for you. I want you to know I totally support you and I'm sure your book will be a huge success.”

Petunia smiled at her lover while reaching for a cake and brought it to her lips with a slow reverence. Her eyes fluttered shut at the first blissful bite. “I hadn't eaten all day. Thank you.” She took another bite and smiled. “Please, help yourself. There's plenty here for both of us.”

“I'll let you eat your fill first. I'd rather just watch,”Marnie said, her voice slow and her expression thoughtful. Petunia was always so careful, so dainty, but some of that rigid control vanished when she was eating. Her walls crumbled, revealing that there was a bit of humanity underneath that relentless work ethic after all, and Marnie thought there was no lovelier sight in all the world. She loved to just sit and watch her eat, one eager bite after another. She'd brought her a plate of these cakes daily for a week now, and she never tired of seeing Petunia so satisfied.

“If you insist.” Petunia's cheeks darkened with a blush, but she reached for a second cake and finished it in only a few hungry, distinctly unladylike bites. “Mm. Delicious. Thank you, darling.”

“Have another. You must be starving.”

Petunia bit her lip and she glanced from the plate back to Marnie, but she took a third cake nonetheless, hunger winning over etiquette. “My self-control simply flies out the window with these. I'm afraid my waistline may be starting to pay the price,” she said, voice bright with false flippancy. “Perhaps you should start bringing me vegetables instead.”

Marnie chuckled and shook her head; she selected a fourth cake and handed it over across the table, gently folding Petunia's fingers around the sticky cake. It was true that Petunia's figure wasn't quite what it had been before the past busy month—there was a new softness around her hips and a distinct curve to her belly, so often round and overstuffed as she tried to forget her stress in trays of sweets. Neither of them had said a word, but Marnie thought she looked beautiful. “I can't cook vegetables.They are not aphrodisiac.”

“Still,” Petunia said between bites, “it is so difficult to maintain appearances when I'm buried under all this work, and I—well, to be perfectly honest, I have begun to worry that perhaps if I am not careful, you will...no longer find me as attractive as when we first met.” She attempted to sound casual, but her shaky voice belied her efforts. Yet despite her words, her eyes were still dark with hunger, and she reached for another cake as she finished the fourth, her fingers trembling as she avoided meeting her lover's gaze.

“What?” Marnie furrowed her brow in confused disbelief. She hadn't realized that she felt this way; the idea that Petunia could ever doubt her love sent a pang through her stomach. She stood and dragged her chair over to the other side of the desk, close enough to wrap her arms snug around Petunia. “Never worry about that. Never. You know I'll always think you're the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“You're sure of that?”

“Absolutely sure.” Marnie gently squeezed Petunia's hips, relishing in the expanded softness of the past week alone. Before, the change in Petunia's waistline had been gradual, though it had become rapid ever since Marnie had begun bringing by pastries in the morning and cakes in the afternoon. Petunia hadn't yet seemed to realize how calculated Marnie's actions were, but her expanding belly was proof enough—still slight, but perhaps not for long. “I think you're even more beautiful like this,” Marnie admitted, “all soft and tender. I like it.”

Petunia flinched at first, but slowly she relaxed, leaning back into Marnie's touch. “Do you truly?”

In one smooth motion, Marnie tugged Petunia into her lap with her gigantic, strong hands. Petunia's breath hitched as Marnie's lips grazed the back of her neck, and Marnie smiled, gently nipping at her earlobe. “Mm, absolutely. You're so gorgeous. I love the way you feel beneath me now when we're in bed. And I love the thought of you filling out those wide hips, of your dress tight over your stomach, your thighs big around my waist.”

She spoke slowly, reverently, her hands roaming Petunia's body and lingering over every curve; her speech faltered with aching arousal. At last, one hand dipped between Petunia's legs, winning a soft moan. Even through the fabric of her small clothes, Marnie could feel a spreading wetness. “But I'm sorry,” she mumbled, lips against Petunia's neck. “I'm getting carried away. I don't mean to make you feel awkward about it.”

“No,” Petunia breathed. “It's...it's quite alright. What were you saying?”

“I—I was saying that I think you're beautiful.” Marnie cleared her throat, collecting herself. “Your curves. And the way you're getting softer every day—I love it.” She let out an involuntary groan, her imagination running away from her again.

“Ah. Well, then. I see,” Petunia said, sounding shy. Her legs parted almost imperceptibly, just enough for Marnie to push aside her dress and slip her hand beneath Petunia's smallclothes. “That certainly helps—oh!—certainly helps with the, ah, insecurity,” she gasped, voice tightening as Petunia rubbed slow circles against her.

“I hoped it might,” Marnie whispered against her neck. She swallowed hard and then dared to continue. “Can you...eat more? For me? You're not uncomfortable with this?”

Petunia answered the stream of questions with one breathy yes, tilting her head to bare her neck to Marnie's insistent kisses, and Marnie smiled at the affirmation. She reached out to take a sixth cake and held it up to Petunia's lips. “Good. Eat up,” she said, a note of teasing mingling with one of insistence.

Petunia obeyed without question, taking one bite and then another until the cake was gone. She eagerly licked and sucked the last traces of frosting off Marnie's fingers. Marnie grunted softly, pushing her fingers into Petunia's mouth in the same moment that she pressed one finger of her other hand into her; Petunia rocked and moaned in her lap, clenching around Marnie's massive, thick finger.

“You're such a good girl,” Marnie murmured, lips soft on the back of her neck. She was wildly carried away now, head spinning with arousal, words that she would usually never say spilling off her tongue in a mad rush—her deepest dreams unfolding before her eyes. She kept her fingers working between Petunia's legs, every stoke an attempt to convince her to keep going, to keep eating. “Are you full yet? Can you eat another for me?”

“I think I can,” Petunia gasped, chest heaving with the effort of trying to maintain her composure. When Marnie pressed a seventh cake against her mouth, her lips opened wordlessly, and she allowed Marnie to push the cake inside, forcing her to eat it faster than before.

“Yesterday you ate half by the time I left. You've already bested that. How many can you eat today?”

“The whole tray. Another, please,” Petunia begged. She rocked back and forth on Marnie's finger, little gasps escaping her with every shift; her head was thrown back, dark curls tumbling over Marnie's shoulder, the elegant lines of her neck sharp and strained.

“Can you?” Marnie laughed, surprised and delighted by how willing Petunia was. The entire dozen would be no easy feat, but it would be incredible just to watch her try. “Eager to please today?”

“Always.”

Marnie withdrew her hand from between Petunia's legs, ignoring her frustrated cry of want. Instead she settled her hand over Petunia's stomach, marveling at the swelling curve that drew the fabric tight. Seven cakes and still eager, long past the point of hunger—just desperate to prove herself, whatever it took. The thought sent a rush through Marnie, heat pooling between her legs. “Another, then,” she declared, and Petunia obediently ate the eighth cake out of her hand, licking off each crumb.

“Keep going,” Petunia pleaded. “Before I think to change my mind.” She ground herself against Marnie's thigh as an empty replacement for her hand, soft sweet sounds escaping her lips, heightening Marnie's growing lust.

She struggled with the ninth cake, barely able to take more than small bites. But Marnie gently rubbed her stomach and whispered soft reassurances in her ear until the cake was gone, and after that, Petunia finished the tenth cake without any hesitation—big, reckless bites that smeared icing across her lips and chin and left both of them moaning.

Petunia clutched her legs around Marnie's thigh, desperate for any friction; Marnie bucked, rubbing hard against her, and when Petunia's mouth fell open in a gasp, Marnie pushed another cake past her lips. “You're so good,” she whispered, stroking Petunia bloated belly. “To do this for me—you're such a good girl.”

Petunia moaned and took another bite. But when she leaned forward, the simple motion was accompanied by the sharp ripping of fabric. Petunia belly, swollen with gluttony, peeked past a sudden small tear in her elegant gold silks. She ground to a sudden halt, her eyes wide with shame and horror—but Marnie squeezed her tight and pressed the cake back to her lips as a silencing distraction. “You're so beautiful,” she whispered, “so, so gorgeous, tearing through your clothes. Don't be ashamed.”

As Petunia finished the cake, the rip continued to widen with every bite, exposing smooth, dark skin, but this time she did not pause. “One more,” she whispered.

Marnie fed Petunia the last cake slowly, forcing her to cherish each bite just as Marnie cherished each soft snap of ripping stitches. Petunia's belly was tender and distended, long past stuffed to the brim, and Marnie squeezed and stroked her constantly, delighting in the unfamiliar curve. Petunia had never been as beautiful to her as she was now—belly hugely swollen, tearing through her clothing, a tray of cakes meant to serve a whole crowd empty in front of her, still taking eager bites out of Marnie's hand.

And then at last, the plate was empty. Petunia sucked the last drops of icing off Marnie's fingers and sagged back into her lover's lap, letting out a sigh that was somewhere between satisfied and pained. Her torn silks slipped to the sides, baring the entire obscenely rounded mass of her belly.

“You did it,” Marnie breathed, awed. Another jolt of arousal flooded her—if Petunia could finish this plate of cakes, how much more could she eat? She pictured herself feeding Petunia more and more without ever stopping, watching her dress tear until it fell off completely, watching her belly bloat like this at each meal so that she grew larger and larger with each passing day, and she bit back a moan of desire at the thought. “You're amazing.”

Petunia hiccuped and hesitantly placed a hand over the unfamiliar expanse of her stomach; Marnie covered it with her own far larger hand. “I did, didn't I? I was not quite sure that I could, and yet—” She let out a rueful laugh, her rush of wild desire fading into practicality. “There goes my figure, I suppose.”

“You look beautiful,” Marnie insisted, “and you'll look beautiful months from now, even once you're so much heavier. You'll be so big and gorgeous. I can't wait.”

Petunia tensed. “This is...to be a regular occurrence, then?”

“Only if you're willing,” Marnie amended hastily. “But if you are, then yes. I've been thinking about this, and I truly do want it.”

“Thinking about what?”

Adaar hesitated, but she couldn't keep the words from pouring forth. “It's just that you're so beautiful like this. So soft and lovely. And I want to...to keep feeding you until you're—until you're even bigger. Little cakes and sweets and everything rich and indulgent, every day, over and over again. Just one day won't last long. But if we did it regularly...” She trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by her desires.

Petunia twisted to face Marnie. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Petunia smiled, bashful and fond, and trailed one finger down the hard line of Marnie's jaw. “I feel so relieved these days, not having to worry about maintaining appearances as I would in court. And if I wish to indulge, why should I not? I enjoy the way I feel. My only fear was that you would not.”

A wide, delighted grin tore across Marnie's face; she let out a joyous laugh and tightened her arms around Petunia, drawing her close. “Of course I do! Of course, a thousand times over.”

Petunia smile was smaller, but she planted a gentle kiss to Marnie's cheek. “Well, then, we're decided. Now, I must get back to work, bellyache and all, but I shall see you tonight.” She raised one eyebrow, tightening her legs around Marnie's thigh. “Perhaps then you can finish what you started, hm?”

“Mm,” Marnie agreed, claiming Petunia's lips in a farewell kiss. “Tonight. I'll bring the food if you bring the wine.”