Winter's Warmth P.2 (Patreon)

Hatred, then.

“Winning,” she replied numbly, and her stomach punctuated it with flexing squeeze that became a loud, **HIC!!** “Ough… can you get me… another water?”

“Are you crazy?!”

Sammy turned.

She was met with a red expanse of velvet stretched so wide that it was all Sammy’s dull eyes could see. It looked lovely, soft to touch but gripping, like a lovely round pillow where someone quite lucky might rest their head. The fabric looked nice too, albeit a bit tight, especially where a white belt of silk tucked in the round waist and where a shadowy indent outlined a chubby navel.

The belly swelled with an angry puff before a finger appeared beneath Sammy’s chin and dragged her up, past the velvet top and the puffy furs, to look into an equally red glow that burned on the chubby cheeks of an angry ice queen.

“You are embarrassing me!” Chloe hissed, her blue eyes as cold as the glacial walls, her face as warm as Sammy’s gut. “You didn’t wanna wear the dress, that’s fine, but you’re just sitting here the whole time stuffing your face! If I’d known you’d do that, I would have just brought Nat!!”

Sammy brushed away the finger with the same contempt as an annoyed cat. “You didn’t invite me… dumbass,” she wheezed. “I got an invite of… my own…”

“She invited you because you’re my friend, idiot!!”

Sammy shook her head, and her unbound hair tickled her naked shoulders. “My invite… was because… I’m blonde.”

A long pause followed before Chloe, her teeth gnashing, whisper-hollered, “What does that even mean?!?”

“Ahaaa~ And yes, here you are!” came a new voice, its accent hanging on each word like the purr of a kitten. “I had guessed you’d be on the second floor still, attacking our desserts, but my twin here knew right where you’d be!”

Chloe turned, revealing the speaker like the sun rising above a red globe. Her skin was fair, her hair a curly brown-blonde that fell to her hips, but it was her grin that sharpened Sammy’s eyes from chocolate-filled spoons into hazelnut daggers.

Auvie should have looked average. Average-sized, average-weight. She was a touch small, a touch curvy… but here, she looked dainty. She was graceful, innocent even. The friendly blonde girl who lived in the mansion next door. There was a hidden sense of beauty, like a sculpture of ice whose red-and-white dress was the perfect fit in the shadow of Chloe’s obesity.

Never before had the same dress looked so different. A shared dark velvet, a shared silken belt, but while Auvie’s dress made her look slender and thin, Chloe looked as wide as a truck. Where Auvie’s was long, falling just beneath her knees, Chloe’s was short, barely reaching down past her hips and exposing the war that her thunder thighs waged. Auvie’s middle looked trim, even a little bit strong, but Chloe had a belly made from scoops of cookie dough topped with dark cherry ice cream.

A shapely brownie next to a red Christmas ornament, Auvie’s well-manicured hand was raised to cover the hideous mask that was her friendly grin.

“Honestly,” she said, her words huskily pitched in a contralto French accent, “I cannot say that I blame you. I too have been feeling rather ravenous, but you know these showrunners. Always fashionably late.”

“Ugh, don’t encourage her,” Chloe placed a hand on her hip, which made her belly seem to puff even further. “She’s never been to a fashion show in her life! I thought you’d get drunk or something. At least that’d be more fun than just sitting here.”

Sammy might have bitten the woman of dough had she not taken two steps away. “The food is free,” she hissed through her teeth. “The bar isn’t.”

“Oh, good lord,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Have you really been drinking nothing but water, again? What is with you and always worrying about money?”

Damn the pain, damn the distance, damn the pain! Sammy was inches from throwing herself at Chloe when the smaller woman stepped forward, clearing her throat and bowing her head.

“If it is trouble,” she said, curtsying, “The Midas family would happily allow you to dine on our dime.”

The heat cooled inside of Sammy’s lungs, the melting pot in her belly impacted by an air of frost. But it was not a calming sensation, nor did it last. As the chill impacted her stomach, carried by the words and the shining eyes of the winter pixie, steam bubbled and broiled and rose and Sammy felt her anger swell inside of her like steam in a boiler with a faulty shield.

Fesauvia Midas was gorgeous. While her body and height would have her blend into a crowd, the rest of her glimmered as bright as a gem. Hard to miss, and impossible to forget. Her eyes were bright with an attractive color, their long lashes further enhanced by just the right touches of dark makeup on flawless skin. She was the only girl that Sammy knew who managed to make wingtip eyeliner look more cute than sexy. This fact in particular infuriated Sammy, who could barely wear makeup at all without looking like a chubby blonde clown.

That striking complexion was further enhanced by the way that she wore her hair, using a usually simple but always fashionable headband to hold back her bangs. It shouldn’t look as good as it did, headbands like that were for tweenagers from the 1970s, but it meant that whenever you looked at her, you were always looking into those big, sparkling eyes.

She and Chloe had interned together at some microbiology lab and the woman was, allegedly, a very competent worker. She also came from a family that seemingly had enough money to purchase Pluto. The first time Sammy ever met her was when her family’s driver nearly ran her over with the pearl white tank that was their family’s car.

They’d both been invited to Chloe and Nat’s for movies and pizza, and the incident in the parking lot hadn’t been the best first impression. Sammy had been willing to overlook it, but her opinion quickly worsened when Auvie introduced herself using a French accent that was so thick and sloppy that it could only have come out of Hollywood. When the pizzas arrived, Auvie had snobbishly turned up turned up her nose at the offered sodas and drinks, behaving particularly towards the ‘Thrift market cola’ that Sammy had brought. She left shortly after, unable to make it halfway through The Black Widows of Mars (which was one of Nat’s favorites).

Ever since then, Sammy had disliked the girl tremendously, and had told Chloe as such multiple times. She was just some rich, Brady Bunch bitch, whose accent was surely as fake as her weird name.

The boiler in Sammy’s belly bubbled and panged, hot anger swirling up against the cold wind. Several of the lines threatened to burst from the pressure, others risked popping just from the movement caused by her breathing. Sammy’s fingers clutched the table and she began to lift herself up from her seat so she could be eye to eye with the little twerp, but her entire train of thought was severed as Chloe interrupted by… lazily stretching, her big belly swelling so much that it cut off their view.

“Psh, don’t sweat it none, Auvie,” she waved her off with a yawn. She lifted her fatty arms up over her shoulders, the motion carrying her dress up another few inches. “She’s already on my bill. I promised I’d treat her if she came.”

Sammy stopped moving.

Which, as it turned out, was a very good thing, because the freeze caused her to realize just how badly her cheap dress had begun to strain. With it caught as it was between her pantyhose and her stuffed-solid gut, it would have surely torn if she did anything as laborious as trying to force her way up.

“Aha, you are positive?” she heard Auvie ask. “The bill at these socials can be rather high~”

“Please,” Chloe rolled her eyes. “I can afford more than a couple of drinks.” She moved forwards, passing by Sammy to reach another seat where a tiny black handbag had been hung from the back. Sammy hadn’t even noticed it. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her friend wearing a purse at all, and especially nothing so tiny.

Chloe’s schoolbag was a satchel that could have been used by the postmaster, with enough space for her books, her supplies, her wallet, a phone, a charger, and around two-dozen snacks that she’d munch on throughout day. The purse she had now didn’t even have room for a container of cookies. It was hard to believe she really owned such a thing.

Chloe scooped the little handbag over her shoulder before going to Sammy’s side. “Come on, Porky,” she said, offering her hand.

Sammy blinked at it. Then, after a quick adjustment of her dress, she took the hand and rose out of her seat with only marginal complaints from her dress, but much more substantial ones from her stomach.

“Ooouuugggh,” she huffed, holding a hand over her distended belly. She felt the burbling heat return, low and acidic, hanging to her exhaled breath.

“You okay?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah. Just need something… cool.”

“Hmph,” Chloe puffed before she turned to start walking. “Come on, we’ll take the elevator up to the bar!”

Sammy stood for a moment, watching after her. She felt Auvie brush past her and turned to see the small woman’s bright eyes looking directly down at her stomach.

She was grinning.

“A drink or two will be good for you,” the pixie purred. “That should help you… loosen up.”

Sammy began to reply, but Auvie continued away, skipping lightly to come up alongside of Chloe, and Sammy could only grumble something under her breath about ‘loosen your jaw…’ before, shuddering, she followed the two girls across the dining floor.

It took longer than it should have to really catch up with the pair. With her stomach stuffed solid, the wobbles and jiggles of her usual pace placed pins and needles across her belly. She tried not to pay any attention to it, but it was hard not to when she had to try and hold herself steady and fight just to breathe.

Instead, she adjusted her dress and fixed her ears. She tried to focus on the music, a soft but bassey tune which thumped from the elevated floor. Then she wondered how long this show was supposed to keep going, or why the fashion show itself hadn’t started yet. Sure, the dim runway didn’t really interest Sammy, but it seemed disingenuous to call this a fashion show if it really it was really just a rich meet and greet.

A thought struck her, suggesting Sammy reach into her dress and fish out her phone so she could check the time.

She did not.

Another thought came, telling her she might look towards the mouth of the runway and see if people were at least getting ready or something.

But she didn’t do that either.

Sammy’s mind continued to cycle, telling her to look towards the people she could still feel looking at her, or to look down at her hands or her belly or the little she could see of her feet as she walked. She might look to the crowd, she might see someone that she knew, or some famous celebrity, but despite all these thoughts, Sammy could not sway herself from looking at where Chloe’s panties were outlined by her tight dress.

With Auvie beside her, it made it so much more obvious, so much more drastic. Her thighs were wider than the girl next to her, tubes of vanilla frosting that squished and rolled off the other. White fluff lifted her shoulders and sagged her biceps, and there was a roll where her dress was pinched beneath her underarms. But it was her panties, almost fully outlined, that made the biggest difference, because they were so showy and big that Sammy had to wonder if Chloe’s hips were wider than Auvie’s torso was tall.

She did catch up eventually, a caffeinated snail could outpace Chloe’s buttery waddle, but she couldn’t stop looking and comparing the two. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Nat once about apples and pears, but the only thing she could think of right now was some such fairy tale about a giant peach.

*Arrrruuuooooogggghhh!*

Sammy winced, slowing for a moment and finally lifting her eyes from Chloe’s backside. She pushed out a breath, really feeling the effect of her feasting now that she was moving so much and her belly kept mixing. Instinctively, she lifted a fist to her mouth before releasing hiccup of heat and swollen regrets.

“Ugh… no more,” she panted to herself. “Something cold…”

“Hmm, hmm. Your friend looks as if she’s ready to burst~”

Sammy reopened her eyes just in time to stop herself from walking into the others, who must have heard her… or maybe her stomach. In fact, a quick glance made Sammy realize that, though they had exited the dining area and were nearing the alcove where the elevators must assumedly be, there were people milling and chatting on either side of the pathway, and nearly a dozen were looking towards her.

“God. How much did you eat anyways?” Chloe asked, hand on her hip. “I can’t believe you didn’t have anything to drink yet.”

“I had a couple waters,” Sammy shrugged, awkwardly. “And maybe like a plate or two. I wasn’t really counting.”

“It was five.”

Both Chloe and Sammy looked down towards Auvie, who held a single finger up to her smiling lips.

“I was counting,” she winked. “You could have cleaned out a bakery. It’s lucky that so many people at these events are always on diets.”

Chloe snorted and Sammy’s teeth clamped down on her toxic response as if it were another cherry tart.

“Mmfh, it must be good then,” Chloe said next, turning back towards the crowd and beginning to move towards the hallway. “I could really go for a plate of my own.”

She stopped when Auvie reached out, gently but noticeably touching her elbow before Chloe waddle out into the wake. With the perfect air of absolute confidence, she lifted her hand into the air and snapped her fingers.

“May I help you, Madame Midas?”

The voice had come so quick and from so close that Sammy jumped, twisting in the air and catching her cankle against a nearby person’s chair. She would have gone down had an arm not come up behind her, catching her balance.

She twisted, looking at the man who had steadied her with one arm while his other perfectly balanced a snack-packed tray with plump chocolate strawberries. He wasn’t old, wasn’t young. Wasn’t small, wasn’t tall. He wasn’t anything. His bright suit and white tie made him nearly melt into the decorative background, and his flat eyes and flatter expression made him entirely unremarkable.

“Yes, hello,” Auvie greeted the man with a curtsy before gesturing to Chloe. “My twin here is feeling rather hungry and would like something to snack on.”

“Twin?” the man asked, looking from Auvie’s gesture to Chloe… and then passing onto Sammy, clearly not understanding.

Auvie’s cough was nearly as piercing as Chloe’s glare. “Can’t you tell?” she asked, stepping closer to Chloe. She would have needed to stood on a stepladder to reach the girl’s height, but she cast an impressive shadow over the man all the same. “Don’t we look exactly alike?”

A tense silence passed before the man bowed his head and said, “Aha, I see.” He glanced once more at Sammy, making sure her feet were steady before removing his arm and swiveling the tray towards Chloe. “A sample, Mademoiselle?”

“Hmph!” Chloe puffed, reaching to take one of the strawberries from the package. She turned up her nose, a haughty expression making it seem as if she were about to berate the man… but then her eyes fluttered, and she looked at the half-eaten strawberry.

Loud and low, a rumble rose from girl’s belly. It was so powerful that Sammy thought she might feel it through the floor. Her nose flared, the tension rolling out of her stance and her shoulders, and the girl’s rumble became a contented purr.

“Mmmh… yummy~” she gushed. She tossed the rest of the strawberry into her mouth before, as slow as a glacier and just as unstoppable, she reached out her hand…

… and took the entire tray.

“Dewishesh!” she huffed, lifting another of the sweets up to her lips. “Thanks!”

It lasted for only a breath, but the man’s eyebrows perked in purest confusion before, with a glance at Auvie, he bowed and backed away as Chloe deftly flicked the cupcake wrapper off of what would surely be the first of many.

“Mmph,” she hummed to herself, biting the sweet in half. “Juicy~ Deesh are greaaat.”

“I thought you’d think so,” Auvie nodded. Then she gestured to the passage. “Shall we?”

“Mmpgh ough, yeah…” Chloe swallowed. “These’ll be perfect with those frozen margaritas.” And she wobbled out into the passage, separating the watching crowd before her like a school of fish before a hungry shark.