Growing Soft 3 (Patreon)

Cooking, Kimihito felt, was truly an art more than a science. 

Once you get things down, they’re not that hard. You just make sure to stick to recipes, adding the right amount of whatever was needed when it is needed, and letting the flames do most of the work. You had to remember to stir the pot and flip the meats, depending on what you were doing, but a carrot-crazed centaur could do that while her mouth tore apart shredded scraps like a woodchipper, as was evident by Cerea’s loud munching.

Once you got the chemistry out of the way, everything was all in how things were done. He knew how to cook the food, but the presentation mattered almost as much as the taste did, and having conquered the sense of the tongue, Kimihito now strove to satiate the eyes and the nose.

The fish was easy, at least. Cooked in lemon juice, it would retain its natural flavors and, along with the citrus, surely sate the tastes of his piscivore guests. All it required was a bit of garnishing to be served with some herbs, and another slice of lemon.

Vegetables were slightly more complicated, but he figured he’d managed quite well. Not many people cared that much for vegetables, and the ones that did were obviously fine with eating them raw. However, the carrots were the most complicated this year. They’d been boiled, and the butter and brown sugar were now melting in the saucepan. He’d have to add the carrots back in soon, allowing them to soak up the sweet sugar and fatty butter before they’d be finished. 

He was finding, though, what he was having the most fun with was the meat. Juicy, savory, tender meat. He’d labored over the hams, what he knew would be the most important dishes of the feast, toiling with a knife to make shallow and presentable cuts before placing it to bake. Now, after thirty minutes in the oven, it was ready for the maple glaze that he’d prepared.

Syrup, the vinegar of red wine, and a sharp tang of mustard to bake into the juicy flavor of the pig. He couldn’t help the thoughts that infected his mind, even now, of Miia having fourths and fifths. How extreme it was that the girl now regularly ate thirds passed just below the clouds of this fantasy.

The rubber spatula glided over the ridges of the ham. It gave the ham a truly attractive glow, but what stuck out to the amateur chef was the strength of the appetizing smell that the cooking was emanating throughout the house. Again, his mind turned to indulgence, and he pictured Miia swaying from side to side in her cute hungry ways.

Cerea had come over and was watching him. He looked up to her. “Yes?” he asked.

“Just watching,” the centaur smiled gently. “Even if I do not eat meat, I still appreciate watching you work, Master.”

Kimihito felt his face tug uncomfortably. “You know, you shouldn’t really call me that anymore.”

Cerea looked confused for a moment. “Master?” she asked.

Kimihito pulled his arm upwards in a semi-shrug. “Well, yeah. I don’t even live with you guys anymore.”

“You don’t need to live with us to be our Master,” Cerea said. “Besides, I wouldn’t know what else to call you.” She shrugged, seemingly unyielding.

“Well, you could always try just… my name?” he suggested weakly. 

Cerea put a finger to her lips, sliding it against over them while thinking. After a moment, she asked him, “Did you know that Papi still refers to you as husband?”

Kimihito paused. “No, I didn’t,” he groaned.

Cerea chuckled, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think that should be addressed, but perhaps upon another night. Does it cause you shame?”

“Being called her ‘husband,’ does,” he shook his head.

Cerea laughed. “I mean my own instance. A centaur does not break her oath of service, but I’m trying to consider your feelings.”

He scratched his head. “Well, no,” he said.

Cerea nodded. “Then I shall return to my duties,” she said, and clopped back to the stove, stirring the pot.

Kimihito sat for a moment, thinking. What he’d said was true, it caused him no discomfort, but things were different, as a married man. He had to consider Miia’s view, now. What if it made her uncomfortable? Or, on the opposite side, what if it didn’t, and he was overthinking it? 

He rolled his neck before turning back to the ham. ‘Oh, meat,’ he thought to himself as he painted the slab of meat with his spatula. ‘How simple you are. You are bought at the market, cooked in the stove, and fed to my wife. You don’t care what anyone calls you. Except delicious.’

“That smells delicious, Darling,” came a reverent voice from the door.

Kimihito turned and his train of thought fell off the track, with every brain cell becoming a casualty while his mind was overwritten by the visage of his wife. Miia was leaning against the door, pale skin illuminated from the bright light of the kitchen. Her large amber eyes sparkled, catching the light and throwing it back to him with an intense glimmer. She wore black strips of leather pinned with gold in the place of her usual D shaped hairclips, the black on red meshing appealingly and the gold reminiscent of her own eyes. One sharp fang was visible over her lower lip, pulled high in a smile. As he gaped, her face became tinted with a light blush.

It was then that he realized he felt a similar heat upon his own face. Shyly looking away from her eyes, he saw her outfit. “Oh, what do you think?” she asked.

She twirled round on herself, causing the skirt to fluff outwards and take up the entire width of the doorway. A white and fuzzy hem was trim to her red Santa dress, which hugged her tightly around the chest and caused the pink softness of her perky breasts to peak out above their holder. Round her neck and shoulders, she wore a light red cape, with strips of white fabric and black leather outlining and highlighting her overabundant beauty.

“You’re not speaking,” Miia playfully sang, slithering forth from the door.

Her breasts playfully bounced inside of their tight house, further slaying Kimihito’s brain until he’d realized that he had forgotten to take a breath. “You look… wonderful,” he praised. “Really delici-” he cut off, eyes going wide. “I-I mean, uhh, good!”

He looked over to Cerea, who was giving him a very smug look.

He turned back to Miia. “Good, great even!” he laughed nervously.

Miia’s fang tilted higher, her forked tongue flicking out and back in. “Delicious, huh? I think you’ve been cooking too much.”

Kimihito winced. “Yeah, that must be it.”

Miia came up to him, sliding forth. He opened his arms and she came in low before locking her arms behind him and sliding upwards to rest her head against his collarbone. He held her warmly to his chest.

In their easy silence, Lala could be heard from the front room, coldly singing ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer.’

Miia turned upwards and placed a kiss upon Kimihito’s cheek. “You look handsome,” she told him.

“And you look… wow,” he chuckled and gestured.

Cerea spoke up. “That outfit is very cute, Miia.”

Miia swished happily back and forth. “Thanks, it took a lot of work.”

Cerea perked an eyebrow. “Did you make it?”

Miia turned, flipping the cape up and down. “A little! It’s been a while since I’ve done any stitching, but I think it came out well!”

“You know how to sew?” the centaur questioned.

Miia nodded. “Mhmm! The little needle and thread, you just treat ‘em like you were slithering in and out of the clothes yourself.”

Cerea looked at her blankly. “I do not tend to slither anywhere.”

Kimihito went back to glazing the ham, allowing the girls their conversation. He watched, though, as Miia talked. His eyes kept flowing to her chest or looking down to her belly. The waist of the dress was pulled tight. He felt his tongue lightly skate over his teeth without opening his mouth. 

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Cerea wasn’t sure if she’d lost her appetite or not.

She mulled the thought over in her head while her tongue pushed the butter coated carrots around her mouth. Sweet and delicious taste dripped down her throat by the mouthful, and it was certainly hard to argue against it. Her plate had been nearly covered in them when she’d begun to eat, and she was actively considering getting another plate, but the scene from across the table was making her skin crawl.

Miia may have been a lamia, yet in Cerea’s opinion, the girl ate like an Orc. She’d covered her plate in everything but vegetables and devoured it so fast that Cerea hardly had an idea of just how much the girl had eaten. At least one plate, maybe two, and she was currently sinking her fangs into an extremely fatty cut of the pork with what had to be the most self-satisfied expression that she’d ever worn. Her smug aura mocked Cerea.

“Mhmm, this is wonderful,” Mero spoke up from Cerea’s shoulder.

Cerea turned and examined the mermaid princess before feeling surprise flow into her. Mero was drinking deeply from her wine, draining the glass empty. Upon her plate were the bony remains of at least three fish, next to a small mound of shrimp tails. Cerea could also see the grease leftover from the butter of the carrots. 

Cerea could see the deep blush of the alcohol on her face when Mero replaced the glass of wine on the table. A thin wire appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and the glass glide across the table to where Rachnera sat. “You’re not finished already, are you?” the spider asked, refilling Mero’s glass.

Mero had seeming lost her royal bearing. She guffawed aloud. “Heavens, no. We don’t have anything of this quality at home.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Rachnera said, passing Mero back her glass. She raised her own and the pair tapped them together with a happy tinkle. 

Cerea looked down to her glass of water. She then looked over to her plate filled with healthy, lovely, delicious vegetables, and realized that the only thing she’d eaten were the carrots she’d coated in sugar and butter. She decided to bite her lip and turned to Miia, who was being severed a third plate loaded with ham and dinner rolls by Master. “Do you have any more of those wine glasses?” she asked.

Miia didn’t even take her ravenous eyes off of the coming food. “Mhmm, cabinet above the stove. Don’t let Papi have any,” she spoke as if dazed, with the air of someone repeating an order.

Master looked over, wearing a smirk. “Don’t let Papi have any,” he sounded much more assured.

“Don’t let Papi have any!” Papi parroted from the far end of the table.

Cerea took her leave of the table, before returning and being served her own glass of wine by Rachnera. She drank deeply of it before taking the next forkful of carrots for a much more delightful taste.

“So, Honey,” Rachnera picked up, “I was wondering, why do you celebrate Christmas?”

Master was absently rubbing at Miia’s tail, which sat heavily across his lap. Cerea felt her delight spark a step further, as she’d inwardly chuckled that her tail wasn’t the only heavy thing of Miia there was. Pompous thoughts of the girl’s weight had been kicking their way round the centaur’s head since she’d picked Miia up and moved her to the couch.

“Well,” Master responded, “It’s kinda just what today is, isn’t it? The holiday is about bringing everyone together and spending it with the people you love, after all.”

Maybe Miia was becoming an Orc, Cerea thought to herself. She eats like a pig, soon maybe she’ll waddle like a pig too.

“Sure, but I mean why Christmas?” Rachnera continued. “You’re not religious.”

Well… maybe not waddle…

“We… did get married in a church,” Master chuckled. “It’s sort of like when you go to a shrine nowadays. There are not many devout people of the Shinto faith left, but we all still pray at the shrines when we go.”

Maybe like… awkwardly slither. Like a slug. A fat slug. With a fat waist.

“Cerea,” Rachnera bade, snapping the centaur out of her mental tirade. “Are you gonna give me the glass, or just keep drinking from an empty one?” she teased.

Cerea blushed heavily, bowing her head. “Y-yes. Sorry, here.”

She handed Rachnera the glass. The spider seemed to pull a wine bottle out of thin air from around her back. “So,” she returned to Master, “it’s a thing of respect?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Master said, tapping the table. “So, since today’s Christmas, it’s special. Like Easter.”

Mero rested her cheek in her hand, leaning on the table. “You just like seeing girls wear bunny costumes,” she teased.

The table laughed, while Miia raised a hand to Master’s cheek and lightly pinched it. He laughed awkwardly. “You know,” he addressed the group, “if we have any leftovers, you guys are more than welcome to them.”

Cerea muttered into her wine. “I somehow doubt that’ll be an issue.” 

She felt her eyebrows raise in shock at herself when the heat of multiple eyes turned upon her. It’d come out much louder than she’d intended. “Wha’ zat me’n?” Miia asked around another mouthful of food.

Cerea felt herself become further irked. Did the girl have no sense of shame? “Nothing,” she said aloud, pushing her carrots with her fork. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Miia further probed, mouth cleared. “Are you mad I didn’t try your carrots yet?”

Cerea felt her nose flare. “No, and they are Master’s carrots, not mine. I just helped him cook.”

“They’re just carrots,” Miia said. “I don’t even like vegetables, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Mero said from the table. “Vegetables suck, where’s dessert.”

Cerea ignored her. “It doesn’t matter, that you don’t like them. They’re not my carrots!”

“Uhh, girls?” Master said.

“So why are you so touchy about them?” Miia demanded.

“Well, you’ve ate half of everything else on the table!” Cerea accused. “Why can’t you eat some vegetables?”

“I have not!!” Miia retaliated with rage.

“Please,” Cerea sat back on her haunch, feeling her smirk transform into a sinister grin. “I know what fifteen pounds feels like. I’m glad I didn’t buy you clothes this year, since you hardly fit into a Santa outfit.”

There was a sudden sound of Master’s chair ejecting from beneath him. Miia’s tail flopped to the ground with a harsh slam, punctuating the immediate quiet. The table looked to him in silence.

“Apologize,” he ordered.

“But, Master,” Cerea began.

“Darling,” Miia started.

“No.” He said it softly, but the strength of his word brought them both to heel. He pointed a finger to Cerea. “I told you that you shouldn’t call me that anymore, but that’s obviously not how things will change.” He gestured to Miia. “This,” he said, “is now and forever your Mistress. And you will apologize to her.”

Contempt flooded Cerea’s stomach. What the hell was she thinking. She challenged the woman in front of her own husband and expected to… to what? She bent her head down, feeling anger pushing through her body. And now she had to apologize to the smug, self-indulgent, girl. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and looked at Miia.

The will trickled out of her, as she was taken aback by Miia’s expression. The smug atmosphere she expected was non-existent. Instead, Miia held sad eyes, and an understanding expression.

The confusion turned into shame, and shame back into anger. Not directed outwards, but in. Remorse filled Cerea’s voice. “I’m sorry, Miia.”

“Mistress,” Master stated.

Miia turned upward. “Darling,” she chided.

“No,” Cerea spoke up, shaking her head. She looked to Master. “No, he’s right. If he is my Master, then you are my Mistress. I… It should have been that way from the moment you were wed.” Her eyes returned to Miia’s, and the girl now wore a half-smile that showed strong pride. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Miia sighed, shaking her head. “You two are too much. I can deal with a couple of pounds without exploding out of my belt or whatever, you know!”

“That seems a little specific,” Rachnera whispered just low enough to not be heard.

“But thank you, Cerea.” Miia’s mouth tugged up in the corner, exposing a single fang. “I appreciate that.”

Cerea bowed her head. “You’re welcome, Mistress.”

Master looked from one to the other before nodding to himself and returned to his seat. He purposefully bent down and, using both hands, lifted Miia’s tail to his lap while she took a drink of wine, and began to massage her underbelly.

“So, does this mean that you’re Papi’s wife, too?!” Papi shouted with excitement.

Miia sprayed wine across the table, and all over Mero’s drunken face.

******************************************************************************

“I’m sorry,” Miia moaned, fluffing her shampoo laden hands through Mero’s hair.

“Mhmm, don’t be,” Mero relayed from beneath a comfortably wined haze. “Just, ugggh,” she moaned, “can you reach a little lower?”

Miia obliged, moving her thumbs in tight circles at the base of Mero’s neck. The mermaid’s pink hair was much longer than it had usually impressed upon Miia. It dropped down into neat swirls, even now when it was soaking wet. She sat nude upon the edge of Miia’s tub, her scaled tail dipping in and out of the comfortable water while Miia bathed her.

Mero’s groan of pleasure deepened to Miia’s touch. She hunched forwards, using her flipper to flick water up onto her face. Trickles splashed onto Miia behind her.

“Hey, careful! I already took a bath,” Miia versed.

Mero looked back to her. “Oh?” she perked her lips, deep crimson evidence of her inebriation. “Ohh, I’m sorry.

Miia let a faint sense of control trickle into her voice. “Yeah, well, don’t go splashing everywhere. It’ll mark up the tiles.”

Mero grinned. “Consider it payback for shooting your drink onto me,” she threatened, before flipping her tail once more. 

Miia tried to block the load of water from catching her in the face, but it managed to wet her bangs and neck, dripping down onto her exposed cleavage. “Hey!” she shouted.

Mero was laughing until Miia shoved her on the back, sending her into the enormous bath with a scream. The lamia wiped at her face with the back of her hand while Mero resurfaced, still laughing, languid upon her back. 

“Yeah, laugh while you can!” Miia warned. “I’m about to turn the heater off.”

“Nooo,” Mero whined. She turned herself about and sleepily drifted back to Miia before hoisting herself back onto the edge, now cleaned of soap.

“Yeah, whatever, you should be fine now,” Miia said. She used her tail to bring Mero’s wheelchair close. 

“Your house is nice,” Mero said, leaning backwards. She laid upon the edge of the bath, fully exposing herself to the light. Miia could see Mero’s ribcage beneath the girl’s thin waist, and her collarbones were clearly outlined. Though while still obviously in shape, Mero seemed to lack the muscle definition that she’d previously held in her abdomen as a renowned swimmer. But Miia knew she’d not much room to talk about exercise routines, or lack thereof. 

She tapped a finger upon Mero’s side. “We got a lot of funding for our wedding, and some of our bills are being paid by the species committee because of our marriage. Now, they’ll probably be having a bunch of monster-girl weddings, but we’ve got to set a good example.

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” Mero closed her eyes.

Miia shrugged. “It kinda is, but it’s kinda not. It’s nice to just be able to lay around with Darling, and we haven’t been going out all that much, so people have been leaving us alone.” 

Mero opened one eye, looking to Miia curiously. “You two are still on your honeymoon, right? When do you go back to work?”

“Are you kidding me?” Miia scoffed. “They’re lucky I can leave the bath in weather like this.”

Mero sat up and began squeezing the wetness out of her hair. “So, is that why you’ve gained a bit of weight? Just haven’t been exercising much?”

Miia blushed, hugging her sides. “What is with you people and asking if I’ve gained any weight?” she asked.

Mero sniggered, snorting daintily. “Miia, you can tell me,” she said.

Miia grunted, moving to sit next to Mero on the tub. “What does it matter? So what, I’ve gained a few pounds. I’ve been enjoying myself. What wife doesn’t gain some weight once she’s married?”

Mero moved herself positioning her head atop Miia’s tail. She leaned into it not unlike, Miia noticed with contempt, a plush pillow. “You’re a lamia,” she said. “A few pounds to you is probably around what Cerea said.”

Miia glared down at her before turning it into a pout and began combing her fingers through Mero’s pink hair. “I guess,” is all she said.

“You don’t know, do you?” Mero asked.

Miia shifted uncomfortably. “Well, no…” she said after a moment. “I can’t use a normal scale. Darling’s old one is already broken, but I haven’t told him yet. She paused before hurriedly adding, “You can’t tell him either!”

Mero shrugged. “You could get a cattle scale,” she suggested.

Miia stuck her tongue out. “I’d rather be cattle then own one of those just to weigh myself.”

She lifted Mero’s head before rising from the edge and going to Mero’s wheelchair, retrieving the girl’s clothing.

“Come on now, we should do gifts, and Darling got red bean ice cream for dessert,” she beckoned. 

“Mhhmm, ice cream.” Mero muttered. Then, she opened her eyes, befuddling Miia with her accusatory scowl. “You’ve been having ice cream?!” she shouted.

Miia felt herself straightening, and her eyes went to the ceiling. “N-no,” she lied.

“It’s winter!” Mero complained. Then, sliding up, she pushed herself upon Miia.

Miia fell back onto the edge, with a yelp, Mero landing on top of her. “H-hey!” she shouted. “Quit it!”

Mero’s hand reached down to Miia’s belly, sinking her fingers into it. “No wonder you are getting chunky!”

Miia squirmed from beneath her. “I am not!” she griped. She batted at Mero’s hands.

The mermaid sat up and hooked a finger through Miia’s dress. “Oh yeah?” she asked with a lecherous grin. “Prove it.”

Miia was beat red. She thrust Mero’s finger away from her. “What are you, some kinda pervert?!”

Mero bobbed drunkenly, nodding up and down. “I wanna see your waist compared to mine.”

Miia hissed at her. She knew she could hardly back out, the pressure of her friend’s eyes was squeezing her tighter than any belt. “Fine, whatever!” she grieved, hooking her fingers beneath her dress and pulling it up over her head. Her body came flopping out.

“Ohhh,” Mero giggled into her hand, “my, my, what do we have here?”

She raised a white hand and rubbed it over the soft dome that Miia’s belly was becoming. It pooched outward several inches, her pale white skin stretched to accommodate her multiple courses of food. “W-would you cut it out?” Miia asked as a shiver shook through her body at Mero’s touch. Her breasts quivered and bounced, reminding Miia again of jelly, though now that they were joined by her stomach, she felt more like a marshmallow.

“I bet you’ve been living quite luxuriously,” Mero said into her hand with a smug grin. Her blue eyes twinkled. “You wear it all so scrumptiously.”

Miia felt her face fall flat. “Are you hitting on me?” she demanded.

“I’m not sure yet,” Mero joked. At least, Miia hoped it was a joke, but her hand skated up Miia’s waist, passing over her hidden ribs. “You’ve become curvaceous.”

“A-alright fine, I’ve gained like… five pounds,” Miia said. She covered her breasts with her arm. “Are you happy?”

“More like twenty,” Mero nudged. “Your tail’s getting thicker too.”

Miia shoved the mermaid, sending her tumbling back into the cooling water. Her face burned because she was aware just how right Mero was. “Would you shut up?” she growled, retrieving her dress and snuggly tucking herself back into it.

“Whaaaat?” Mero whined, swimming back to the tub’s edge. “I said you wear it well!”

Miia gave her daggers through her stare. Then, her expression fell. “You and I used to have a similar body type,” she mumbled. 

Mero tilted her head to one side, then to the other. Then, she extended her hand. “Come help me up,” she said. “I’ll just have to eat enough ice cream that we match again.”

Miia, through her annoyance, felt the warm grin. “You’re just drunk, pervert.” She rolled her eyes.

Mero flipped her fin, clapping it down upon the water. “You’re the one who rose to the bait,” she dared.

Miia grunted. “Yeah, baited by a mermaid. Who’d have figured.” She raised a warning finger, “This never happened.” 

“And your fat butt didn’t break Darling’s scale,” Mero winked.

Miia felt the grin fight its way onto her face, overriding her annoyance. Mero had called him Darling. 

While Mero pulled herself into her seat, Miia went to the door of the bathroom and exited, coming shortly to the top of the stairs.

“Darling~!” Miia sang. “We need your he-elp!”

Darling came up a moment later, just as Mero was making her way from the bathroom in her chair. “Ready?” He asked. 

Miia nodded and Darling retrieved Mero, lifting her in his arms and carrying her down to the couch. Miia, meanwhile, followed behind with Mero’s empty chair. She struggled to move the unwieldly seat down her stairs but managed it with only a few smacks against the wall.

“Ugh!” she complained, dropping it on the ground. “This thing’s heavy.”

Cerea, who’d been sitting on her haunches near the couch, came over to her. “Do you need any assistance?”

Mero spoke while Darling lowered her into the chair. “No, thank you. Our hosts have taken good care of us.”

Darling and Miia looked to one another and grinned. “Right!” he said, taking a step back and clapping his hands. “It’s time for gifts!”

“Yaaaaay!” Papi leapt into the air, spreading her wings wide. She fluttered briefly before clacking down onto the carpet, her long talons leaving dangerous looking impressions while she advanced upon the pile of gifts. Suu tried to imitate this, though she smacked breasts first into the ground, flattening out before bouncing forwards and somersaulting onto her rear, much to the group’s enjoyment.

Papi, welling with excitement, crawled about the room distributing presents. A little mound of gifts was piled in front of everyone in attendance. Darling and Miia took their seats upon the couch with Lala, with Darling lifting Miia’s tail and putting her over his lap. Mero, naturally, sat in her own chair. Cerea and Rachnera, too big for any furniture, simply sat upon the floor, sitting on their haunches and thorax, respectively. Suu also sat on the floor, while Papi took up her spot in Suu’s comfortable lap. The harpy swung her hips back and forth excitedly poking at her presents.

“Well?” Rachnera asked, looking around. “Where do we start?”

Cerea cleared her throat. “If I may suggest, Mistress, would you open the ones from Rachnera and myself?”

Miia longingly looked to the centaur. “You don’t have to call me that, Cerea,” she said.

“No,” Cerea said severely. Her serious look gave way to a tiny smile. “But I want to.”

Miia looked down to the gifts before returning her gaze to Cerea. “Alright,” she relented, and felt a fresh weight come from her shoulders. She looked to the pair of them. “Any special order?”

“Mine first, Honey,” Rachnera said with a goading grin.

Miia narrowed her eyes and gave the spider a forked raspberry. She leaned over and lifted a gift wrapped in white and gray paper, decorated with little snowflakes. It was expertly tucked, pulled tight and held together by fine marks of web rather than by tape.

“Alright, let’s see,” Miia said, pulling the paper free, revealing a white rectangular box. She looked up, saw Rachnera smiling warmly. She opened the box.

Inside lay a long length of red silk and black silk, with darker strips creating a sense of scales upon the fabric. It took Miia a moment to realize it’d been folded times over, with the dark strips resembling tribal markings she’d seen long ago. “Oh, it’s a sweater!” she said, pulling it out.

“I stitched it myself,” said the arachnid. “You wouldn’t believe how long the scales took to do.”

“Well, that’s very nice,” Miia said. She gave Rachnera grateful nod.

“Do you recognize the patterns?” Rachnera asked.

Miia hesitated. “Not really, honestly,” she said, tilting the sweater. “It’s been a long time since I’ve even looked at anything like this.”

Rachnera nodded. “I thought you might. They’re tattoos that lamias used to wear on their skin and their scales. There’s a booklet in there, too, that explains a bunch, but they’re mostly protective charms. Wishes for good health, sharp fangs, and favorable fortune.”

Miia found the book, wrapped in the long length of sweater. “Oh, I got it. Well, I can’t wait to look at that later. Thanks!”

She felt a pair of hands squeeze her tail reassuringly and felt herself steel her grateful grin. Her lie might have been obvious to Darling, but nobody else had to know. She’d no interest in the markings. Miia wanted nothing to do with her old tribe after the events of her wedding. At least it was a nice sweater.

“It’s made of spider’s silk, so it’ll stretch and keep you warmer than anything you’ll find out here,” Rachnera went on.

Miia’s expression lit up at this. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She turned to Darling, “Spider silk is really expensive, but it’s one of the best options out there.”

He smirked. “Hey, that’s great! Now you can help me shovel sometimes.”

She batted him on his head.

“Rachnera,” Cerea spoke up, “I’d thought you’d gotten her that… other thing.”

Miia turned, looking to them curiously. Rachnera was looking back to Cerea questioningly. “Huh?” Her face lit up. “Oh, no! That was Mero’s present for her.”

“Ahh, well,” Cerea turned back to Miia, “if you wouldn’t mind, would you please open Mero’s present next?”

Miia looked to the group. “Is that okay? We’re doing all mine first.”

“Sure,” Darling said, patting her on the back. “Go on ahead.”

Miia shrugged. She found Mero’s seafoam green package. “Sparkly,” she looked to Mero.

The mermaid was nursing another glass of wine, leaning upon the arm of her chair with her eyes closed. Where she’d gotten the alcohol, Miia did not know.

Miia shook her head, amused. She opened the box to reveal a highly technical looking camera. “Oh, wow,” she whistled. 

Cerea filled in for Mero. “That’s a DSLR camera. It’s got a bunch of features and is the same model as the one the photographer at your wedding used.”

Rachnera chimed in. “It’s a bit complicated, but this will take better pictures than most other things out there. It even comes with its own printer.”

“Which,” Cerea switched back in, “ties in with my present. Please, open it.”

Miia chuckled. “Okay, okay, gosh. So much stuff.”

“Well, consider this as much a housewarming present as it is a Christmas gift,” Cerea said. Her tail swished back and forth, betraying her excitement while Miia tore open the packaging of her present.

Miia revealed a large pink box beneath the paper, inside of which she found an immense design. Eight picture frames were interlocked upon their edges around a central plaque, three above, three below, and two on either side. The frames had been stained a warm reddish wooden color, with little designs woven into each edge. Written upon the plaque in a pleasing burn simply read ‘Our Story’. The top central frame held a picture of Miia and Darling from their wedding, with him holding her from behind, hands interlocked over her belly.

Miia felt a tear come to her eye, and could practically feel Darling’s hands around her from the precious memory. “Awe,” she moaned. She looked up to Cerea, who diverted her eyes, which were also becoming wet. “Oh, Cerea,” Miia said. She rose from her seat and made her way over to the squatting centaur, pulling her into a deep embrace.

Cerea did not hesitate to return the hug. She spoke into Miia’s shoulder, softly. “Master said that you guys didn’t have anything for any pictures.”

Miia blinked. She looked around her living room, separating from the hug. Then, she looked to the group. “How the hell did I not notice that?” she breathed.

Darling chuckled from his seat on the couch.

“There’s been a lot going on,” Cerea said. “But I wanted to give you something where you could…” she trailed off.

“Could tell our story,” Miia finished. She reached out and put a hand on Cerea’s waist. “Thanks,” she said. She held the frame back up, looking at it. “What am I gonna put in the others?” she asked. Then, answering her own question, “Well, I’m going to need one of everyone here!” she said.

“Maybe we should finish opening presents,” Darling suggested while she went back to the couch and opened up the box of the camera. 

Miia didn’t listen to him. She took out the camera and began reading through the manual, whispering the details of the build to herself. He rolled his eyes and grinned. “Cerea, would you wake Mero up? Let her open up her gifts before she passes out again.”

Mero, hearing her name, slowly blinked open her eyes. “Hmm? Is it time for ice cream?”

******************************************************************************

“Are you sure you’ll be alright heading back?” Miia asked.

Cerea nodded. She had Mero all bundled up in her chair, sound asleep. “We’ll be fine.”

“Cause you can spend the night if you want,” Miia offered.

Cerea spoke lightly. “Thank you. I was being a jerk earlier.”

The lamia squinted at her before rolling her eyes. “Gah,” she made a dismissive grunt, “What is with you both? You and I used to nearly tear one another’s throats out, and I’m suddenly made of glass because my dress looks tight?” 

Cerea tapped her hoof awkwardly. “W-well,” she said.

Miia rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Even if I have… well, I have gained a few pounds, but that’s not like I’m suddenly super offended by that.”

Cerea crossed her arm over her enormous chest uncomfortably. “It was said in bitterness.”

Miia stuck out her tongue. “It wasn’t earned in bitterness.” She looked over her shoulder, towards the empty living room. “You would not believe how much he’s been cooking since we got here,” Miia whispered.

Cerea’s eyes narrowed. “What, like… how often?”

Miia shook her head. “It’s every few hours. He’s come and carried me from our room down to the kitchen for a third breakfast before,” she jokingly mimed Darling carrying her. She looked back into the kitchen. “He’s probably getting another helping of dessert prepared for me. Then, he’ll want to feed me before bed, and once we’re in bed too.”

Cerea was blushing now, looking exceptionally scandalous. “Is he really?”

Miia turned back to her, giving her a level look. “No, you dork.” She said flatly before breaking into an adolescent laugh.

Cerea scrunched her face before stamping her foot. “That was mean!” she said. “You made me worried!”

Miia tilted her head backwards. “As your Mistress, it’s my order, that you are not to worry about my diet.” She turned to Cerea, with a playful expression. “Understood?”

Cerea huffed, placing both her hands upon Mero’s chair. “I hope he does feed you a third dessert, so that sweater’s the only thing that’ll fit you.”

Miia raised a hand. “At least I’ll always have that, and the socks that Papi got for me. Those go together perfectly.”

Cerea held her chagrined expression for a few moments longer before it returned to reluctant smirk. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “Both of you.”

Miia swayed back and forth, her thumb gliding unconsciously over her wedding band. “Thanks,” she smiled. Then, she turned serious. “If you guys need to spend the night…” she offered once more.

Cerea shook her head, her long hair whipping back and forth. “No, no, we need to be going.”

“Alright,” Miia bowed. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you,” Cerea returned. Her thumb and forefinger went to the new silver charm of a centaur she wore around her wrist. She patted Mero on the top of her winter hat. The mermaid mumbled. “I’ll make sure she gets her charm, too.”

“Please do,” Miia said. She raised her right hand to Cerea’s. The lamia of Miia’s charm spun in the air and tinkled off of Cerea’s centaur. Both girls wrapped their thumbs around the others hand in a hug.

“Goodnight, Mistress,” Cerea bade. With that, she took Mero, and the pair left through the front door, out into the falling snow.

Miia watched them go. A part of her felt saddened by their parting, even though she knew it was only temporary. Their backs faded into the darkness, and Miia turned away from the window.

She nearly bonked into the waiting chest of her husband. Miia let out a startled yelp, causing her tail to awkwardly skip on the wooden floor. “You jerk!” she said, pouting at him before snapping up to him in a warm hug. 

He was laughing wildly, so she tightened her grip, intent on removing the air from him. “I had to step carefully to get inside your tail,” he hissed tightly, unconceding.

Miia’s tail whipped round him, squeezing him from the knees. He let out a yelp as they tumbled backwards into the living room and onto the carpet.

Their lips were round one anothers’ before they hit the floor. Passion swept through them, pulling them deeper into the warmth of one another. Darling’s arms were pinned to his sides, yet he still made clawing attempts to hook his fingers through Miia’s dress.

Miia took the cue, sliding up on her tail. Her fingers unclasped her handsewn cape before gripping the bottom of her dress and pulling it upwards. She was met with an awkward moment when the top refused to come up over her hips, and she lost her grip.

Miia scowled down, fastening her fingers through the dress. Suddenly, she was startled by a huge motion coming from beneath her. Darling sat up, pulling Miia’s tail wide with great effort. The girl was caught off guard by the intensity of her eyes and the strength of his arms when he lifted his hands to either side of her chest, tucked his fingers into the dress, and pulled in separate directions.

Down the middle, a great tear appeared, splitting the dress wide and spilling Miia’s exposed breasts and rounding tummy forth. Miia felt herself become incredibly enamored and threw herself back onto Darling, hands hurriedly trying to undo his shirt buttons. She had to break lip contact for a moment when she was reaching the bottom, pulling back to see her damnable fumbling fingers.

Darling took the moment to lean back and breath before sitting up on his elbow. “So,” he gasped, “what was that about you wanting a fifth helping of dessert?”

Miia stopped. Slowly, she looked up at him, into his devilish smile, which radiated temptation.

She gulped.

That night, on the couch beneath their newly decorated picture frame, Miia would somehow find the strength to finish a sixth bowl of ice cream, while Darling was diligent to entertain her other hungers to an even higher plane of gluttony. Only her tongue ever felt cold, but it was heavily outweighed by the sensations of heat and pleasure that filled the rest of the well-indulged wife.