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A Hero’s Reward
🕑 Added 2020-07-08 00:41:21 +0000 UTCMomo Yaoyorozu was a hero. Ever since she was a little girl, she had grandiose dreams about the heroic acts she’d achieve, the feats she’d perform and the people she’d save. She’d fight against villains, protect the innocent and work on the side of truth and justice!
The world needed heroes, and Momo was a hero.
She just… wasn’t a professional one… yet.
Who was she kidding? After seeing what the real professionals were capable of, from their incredible speed to their explosive power, what did she have?
If you needed a wrench, Momo could make one. If you needed an egg timer, Momo was there! She could create all the most useless trash that someone could ask for and was now staring at her hand as she wrote the word Junkyard on top of her unmarked homework.
Momo possessed the quirk of Creation, which allowed her the ability to create any non-living material straight from her own body. Just by thinking, she could transform the molecular structure of her fat cells into whatever object she desired, as long as she understood what it was.
It would make an incredibly useful ability for the school janitor.
It was about all she was good for…
The girl sighed, sagging back in her seat and thankful that nobody else was around in the student lounge. Classes had finished for the day, leaving most of the building peacefully quiet as students milled about in their dorms, while Momo had the small area all to herself.
The lounge was small, comprised of three booth-styled tables set against one wall and four vending machines squeezed by the other. It had a soft blue carpet, giving the area a more relaxed feeling, which was currently passing over the girl in the corner as she swallowed down her fourth can of soda.
“Come on,” she spoke to herself, trying to psych herself up. “You’re just beating yourself up. It’s just another slump…”
She groaned, not believing her own reassurances. Her sulk became compounded when her fingers shook the can, feeling the empty dribbles inside. She’d have to get back up, but she hardly wanted to move as all of the pressure seemed to settle on her shoulders.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked herself. “There are villains that can shoot lightning, create portals, transform their whole bodies. Explosions, decay… one shot of fire, and it’s not like I’ve got time to summon a fire blanket! I’d be toast…”
Momo felt her lips purse as she stared at the empty homework.
It should be a simple assignment. ‘Describe the contents of standard First Aid kit.’ ‘What is the best procedure for treating third, second, and first-degree burns?’ ‘The diagram below displays the usual makeup of a standard human body. The red slash areas are arterial cuts. Explain how best to treat each area to prevent loss of limb and life.’
Momo knew all of the answers, but every time she looked at the diagram, she kept picturing her own body layered over the blank idiographic image.
What would she do if her brachial artery was severed by a villain’s blade? Or if her femoral arteries were being drained by that horrendous blonde vampire-woman? It didn’t matter how well she could stitch herself up if she couldn’t move.
Maybe she could handle a fire or protect people for tornados. Magma, sure. Blizzards? No problem. Momo could handle natural disasters, but the moment that someone else contested her, what could she do?
She’d studied armed and unarmed combat, had practiced using a sword and a shield, but did that really do anything when her enemy could melt through armor, could punch through steel? Sparing with her classmates was teaching her far more than anything she could learn from a book, and she was quickly learning where she was at on the chain.
She’d be better off just making a gun and learning how to use those effectively, but she was a hero… Could she really make such a claim if she were to kill her enemies?
Perhaps she could utilize a weapon that fired a net, then? Something fireproof, or maybe a shock absorbent! If she could nullify a villain’s abilities…
At the bottom of the page, Momo began to doodle a large, tube shaped weapon while with her other hand, she reached into a bag of potato chips.
The young hero hardly realized it, but the image she projected onto her assignment, of a young black-haired girl in a bright red hero’s costume, was quite incorrect. Sure, her eyes were still black, and her skin was still pale, but there was just a lot more of her than she mentally perceived.
Momo wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t far off. It was frankly quite lucky that her school uniform had been so loose because it was now pulled tight over a chubby potbelly and heavyset hips.
To say Momo had a big appetite would be akin to calling her curvy. Not wrong, but the swelling apple-shape would say it certainly wasn’t right. Her table was marked with as many empty snack bags as it was sodas, and the young woman was becoming increasingly frustrated from having to repeatedly get up to use the machines.
She’d had little to no progress on her daily assignments, and after realizing she’d no real concept of what molecular structure could be fireproof, waterproof, resistant to electricity, explosions, and just plain of stabbing, she leaned back and let her pooch fluff over the table while making a zombie-like groan.
The young woman reached for another chip, her frustration compounded when her fingers came up empty. With an awkward slide and a labored grunt, she pulled herself out of the booth wearing a heavy lipped scowl, her skirt straining as her waist sagged over the band. This was the third time she’d had to get up, and it would absolutely be the last! She plucked her wallet from her purse, pulling out a pair of 2,000-yen notes and inserting each into separate machines.
She had to make two trips to carry all of the soda, and then spent nearly ten minutes deciding which snacks she would have. When she’d settled, she’d eight extra cans of Mighty Cola three bags of Blackraven Chips, two bags of gummy Terror Crawlers, a package of sour sandals, and a large chocolate bunny.
She sat down, oblivious to the strain the action put on her skirt as her tummy fought for lap space.
“Alright,” she flicked open the top of a can and took a sip before picking her pencil back up. She scribbled over the diagram of the impossibility cannon. “Let’s see. You can use a sword and shield,” she drew two diagrams, immediately dismissing them with the sketch of a lightning bolt. “You can summon and construct the parts of a catapult,” which would be useless if her opponent were too quick or too fast and joined the others in being marked off.
Next was a staff made of rubber, but Momo could easily be overpowered. A spear with an obsidian tip might work, but it seemed so situational and she’d have to change her whole costume to be focused on defense rather than attack.
She was cut off, surprised when she picked up a now empty can. Had she really drunk the entire thing so quickly? She’d hardly noticed…
With a shrug, she snapped open another, taking a quick sip before having to cover her mouth as the carbonation bubbled up from her already bloated tummy. She didn’t feel bloated, but Momo didn’t feel overweight despite looking exceptionally fat as she covered her mouth and let out a loud burp.
“Oh, goodness,” she pressed her fingers to her lips. She’d startled herself. The belch had brought with it a tightness in her tummy that demanded release in the form of a very loud, “Hic!”
“Excuse you!!!”
Momo turned as red as her tie. The shout had come from another room but had been unmistakably female. She twisted, looking towards the wall near her table and saw a sharp crack had appeared, in the center of which was a bronze colored spike.
It was only a moment before Momo realized what that the spike was really a familiar earphone jack. “Kyoka!!” she screamed.
The jack rapidly withdrew, leaving a teeny hole through which Momo could hear a girl complaining “Oww, loud!”
Momo slid closer to the hole, laughing despite her embarrassed frustration. “Are you spying on me? Get over here!”
She heard something that could have been a raspberry though the teeny hole and returned to her seat, opening the sour sandals as she waited.
Kyoka Jiro entered the lounge a moment later. She’d changed out of her uniform, now wearing a red and black band tee. A white lotus flower surrounded by the label ‘Identity Crisis’ in a bloody font.
Her purple hair was freshly washed, and there was a mischievous light in her deep purple eyes. “Talking to yourself again?” she asked.
“Does it count as talking to myself when you’re always spying on me?”
“I wasn’t spying!” Kyoka denied, her husky voice climbing several octaves. “I was just, uhh,” a hint of red touched her own cheeks, “checking… in.”
Momo rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Kyo. Just working on some homework.”
Kyoka’s blush heightened from the friendly nickname. She looked over Momo’s table. “I see. Doing a report on a poor diet?”
“Diet?” Momo blinked, then realized. “Oh. Ohhh, uh, i-it’s just some brain food…”
Kyoka’s mischievous smile returned. “Brain food, eh?” She poked Momo’s pooch, “It seems more like it’s good for your tummy.”
“H-hey!” Momo lifted her arms back, laughing sheepishly as Kyoka’s finger sunk into her stomach. “Quit it, I’m ticklish!”
“Are you?” Kyoka grinned.
Momo had barely enough time to turn before Kyoka had hopped onto her knees, her fingers poking and playing with Momo through her tight shirt. She batted at Kyoka’s grabbing hands, pinned to the wall, and laughing girlishly while Kyoka chased her in.
Kyoka’s knees had pinned one of Momo’s legs to the booth, the other flailing beneath the table as Momo fought against the tickle attack. “Are ya? Just a bit?”
“Kyokaaa!” Momo playfully batted at the arms, feeling heady and light as the laughing continued. “Stop stop stop, you’re gonna knock over my drink!!”
The torturer relented, sitting back on her haunches and smiling down at the chubby girl with complete satisfaction. “How are you so fun to tease?” she asked as Momo tried to pout but she couldn’t stop giggling.
“I am not!” she puckered her lips, making her cherubic cheeks look ever more round.
It made Kyoka’s blush almost heady, feeling so powerful and right while her heartbeat was skipping. “It’s because you do that,” she reached out and poked a fleshy cheek, feeling high in the sky as Momo’s blush met her finger.
“I assure you, I’m doing nothing to earn this… this, abuse!” Momo maintained, though there was little belief in her own highborn words.
“Uh-huh,” Kyoka tapped her fingers over Momo’s tummy before stopping. “Oh, shit,” she cussed. “Your button…”
Momo looked down before going pale, seeing the pudge of her belly peeking out from her shirt. One of the lower buttons on her jacket had snapped free, exposing her navel. The flush returned as Kyoka’s finger poked the lip of her belly.
“It must have come free.” She twisted, looking around them and sliding her hand between the booth and Momo’s leg, traveling up her thigh. “You really should get some bigger clothes. You’re getting pretty chunky.”
Momo didn’t know how to respond to that. She opened her mouth, her body focused on Kyoka’s hand sliding up her leg. “I-I’ve b-b-been…” she trailed off.
“If you keep skipping out on combat training, you’re gonna get fat,” Kyoka warned before shrugging, her eyes looking down at the table. “Not that… that’s, uhh, a bad thing. For you.”
Momo was a cherry tomato. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?!”
Kyoka shrugged, not taking her hand off of Momo’s leg. “I-I dunno, I just… uh,” she lifted her leg. “H-here, let me help find that button.”
She slid backward before taking her feet and offering Momo her hand.
Momo took it, letting Kyoka pull her forward and out of the booth. The stress on her skirt returned and she felt it release as the button pinged off, striking Kyoka’s slender stomach.
“Ahh!” Momo yelped, dropping Kyoka’s hand and snatching at her skirt as it began to slide down her hips. “What in the… this fits fine!”
Kyoka gave her a level look. “Did you… not notice? You’ve put on like twenty pounds.”
Momo’s black hair bristled. “There’s no way!” she denied. “Maybe a couple, but-”
“Momo you’ve been down here like every day, and it’s not like your diet’s gotten any better.”
Momo was brighter than ever as her hand dropped down on her fat chocolate bunny. “M-my diet is fine!” she denied.
Kyoka looked from her down to the table, wordlessly counting the empty sodas and snacks. “Well, you said it yourself. You turn your fat cells into objects. If you’ve been skipping field practice…”
“It’s important to have good study skills too!” Momo replied.
“Yeah, but you’re not exactly using your quirk for that either. So it’s all just building up.”
Momo looked insulted, hiking her skirt up over the swell of her bottom while her other arm wrapped protectively around her middle. “I don’t need to create pencils or pens, I’ve already brought most of my supplies! That’d be so wasteful!”
Kyoka looked smug as she reached down, her hand sliding over the pinch of Momo’s love handle. “So instead you make sure your waist is full?”
It was like Momo’s been hit in the stomach, a joke so terrible that it was like physical pain that twisted into a pained laugh before devolving into an adorable snort. “That was awful!” she continued giggling.
Kyoka’s grin was huge, the dangling jacks from her ears lightly shaking back and forth as she swayed.
“Happy with yourself, huh?” Momo asked, placing her hand over Kyoka’s.
Neither girl was sure how it happened, but both could feel it as it did. The electric spark, the shot of a cannon, the landing of thunder. It was as if Kyoka’s heart was suddenly as loud as a bass drum, and Momo’s was beating in a perfect tune.
Kyoka was about to pull away. Distance herself, pull back, analyze the situation for the hundredth time that week. To go over the same exact thoughts, realize the same exact feelings. But her body wasn’t listening to her brain, and every thought in her head was slowly being replaced.
Momo was gorgeous. More than that, she was adorable, cute, and she was tightening her hand over Kyoka’s, pulling her touch into her waist.
“You don’t think…” Momo looked down at Kyoka’s hand, sinking into the inches of fat. “It’s too much?”
Kyoka opened her mouth but nothing came out. She swallowed before trying again, “Hell no. It’s… you’re…”
“Pudgy?” Momo asked.
Kyoka tried to muster her teasing smile. “Fat.”
Momo tucked in, positively glowing. “How do you make it sound like such a good thing?”
Kyoka didn’t know how to answer that.
“I guess it’s not really that, is it?” Momo tugged Kyoka a step closer, pulling her until Momo was pinned to the wall.
Kyoka wanted to stammer, to backpedal as best as she could. It was a joke, a prank, ha ha. Instead she moved closer, her waist touching the open gap in Momo’s shirt.
Momo’s eyes were glimmering in the bright light of the school, large and strong and so sure that Kyoka could feel the inspiration put iron in her spine. “It’s how you look when you say it.”
Kyoka’s eyelashes fluttered, her heart beating quick enough that small vibrations sent quivers through Momo’s soft body. She was warm, so comfortably warm, and Kyoka wanted to just melt into her, but that fear demanded she ask, “Is that… that’s okay? This isn’t… um…”
“I admit, I’m hardly an expert,” Momo said genuinely. “I’ve never… I mean, I hadn’t considered that…” Her bouncy words were dipping, her large, black eyes looking so vulnerable. “You like me…?”
It was like watching another person nod, as every detail was being engraved in Kyoka’s mind as her other hand was set on Momo’s hip.
“And you like… this?” Momo gestured to her body.
“I like this,” Kyoka’s jack lifted and gently poked Momo on the nose, eliciting a giggle and happy wiggle.
“Well,” Momo asked. “What are you thinking about doing? With… this…?”
Kyoka’s empty brain was suddenly tearing itself apart, looking for a word to say other than ‘bouncy’ and coming up empty. She’d forgotten the entire original purpose of why she’d sought out Momo in the first place, could only focus on the weight in her hands and the grin on her face.
Momo sighed. “You’re really cute,” she said before leaning forward and giving Kyoka a small peck on the cheek.
Kyoka’s eyes had dilated completely, her jack coming up and gently rubbing the space before she realized Momo was walking past her. Her thighs were pudgy, soft and round and bringing a weight to her bottom as she bobbed from side to side.
“If we’re going to… Well, I’d like to do something more with you,” Momo took a can of cola, snapping it open but not yet drinking. “I’ve never been on a date…”
A second bolt struck Kyoka, restarting the bluescreen that had taken her mind. “T-there’s a band!!” she shouted, unable to control her voice as her hands fumbled in her pocket. “I got, um…” she blinked and started over, twisting. “I mean, uhh, there’s a band playing tonight. I got tickets,” she lifted the pair of purple and red tickets, showing them without looking. “For the amphitheater in town. I wanted to ask if you’d, uhh…”
Her voice caught as she felt more than saw Momo return in front of her, belly poking out over the top of her skirt like a soft muffin top. “If I’d…?”
“I-if,” Kyoka started, interrupted when Momo’s finger touched the bottom of her chin, slowly pulling her to look at her. Staring into those eyes, it was so much easier. “If you’d like to go with me. Like a date.”
Momo smiled.
******************************************************************************
Kyoka’s body ached.
She’d just finished a week-long assignment, assisting in a raid on a warehouse that was collecting counterfeit and stolen artwork for distribution to multi-millionaires outside of Japan. Earphone Jack was specifically sought out by agents of the office responsible for upholding the Executive Art Treaty for her ability to act as a surveillance device.
The agents were not well pleased to learn that her ear plugs had ‘limitations’ and that she couldn’t just stare at the warehouse from a mile away and hear everything inside.
She’d spent nearly a full day sitting inside of a tight wooden crate that they’d shipped into the warehouse before she could gather enough evidence to actually start the raid, and really then only got lucky that she’d heard two distinct voices discussing their plans for an auction next month.
Desperate to get out and actually do something, Kyoka had popped out of her box and demanded the two surrender, not expecting to be faced with two major villains, a portal-user named Flash Hopper and a behemoth of a man called The Pain-ter.
Fighting was already a pain. Fighting when both of her legs were asleep was ten times worse.
When did the walk home get so long?
She could swear that the Police Station used to be way closer. That was one of the things nobody really warned you about, even during training. It wasn’t until you were really committing to the on the job work that you realized you were essentially selling your knees and legs in the name of your heroics.
Some people with regenerative abilities could manage way more, but Kyoka’s heavy black boots made her legs feel like they were being dusted to powder as she dragged herself along the long sidewalk, the evening sun dipping into the orange horizon.
After graduation, the state hadn’t wasted a moment getting Kyoka into the service. They’d practically tossed her a home, a crappy apartment based on government housing, which she’d still be stuck in if there wasn’t a much, much higher income adding to their growing nest egg.
Kyoka dragged herself up the path to her house, an extremely cozy bungalow painted brown with black trim. A small garden in the window was flourishing with red poppies and Kyoka smiled wearily as the scent of lavender rose from nearby flowers.
It smelled like home.
One of Kyoka’s jacks reached her pocket even as the front door opened and a woman the size of a tractor nearly leapt into Kyoka’s arms.
“Kyo!” Momo hopped, her grand tummy wobbling out from beneath her gray top. Kyoka would have been blushing if the much larger girl were not a few porky steps from turning her into a pancake.
Momo had gone from slim to curvy, from curvy to chubby, and then seemed to skip all the way to super-sized. In just a few years, the hourglass had swollen into a soft and fluffy apple, with so much weight settled into her tummy that Kyoka couldn’t wrap her arms around her.
She felt so supple, but pleasantly heavy in Kyoka’s hands, and standing six inches shorter placed her face directly between her soft, fluffy breasts.
Kyoka moaned a hello, her face buried into the pillowy marshmallows while Momo took her and squeezed her tight.
The two held one another like that, and Kyoka considered falling asleep right there before Momo took a step back, her bubbly cheeks spreading in a massive smile. “I missed you,” she said. “How’d everything go?”
Kyoka looked down at Momo’s body, the body she’d crafted and would sleep next to tonight. She was wearing her relaxation clothes, a small sweater that Kyoka could use as a blanket and a pair of shorts that stretched to cover her moons. “I missed you too,” she said truthfully. “We made eighteen arrests, as well as two villains.”
How did she do it? It was just a sweater and shorts. She hadn’t even done anything special to her hair. But she smelled like cookies, like chocolate, and felt as warm as fat dough. Momo looked so lazy and beautiful.
The big woman chuckled, her once bright voice now as husky as her body. A thick neck and heavy chin wore a chunky smile, noticing Kyoka’s eyes and shifting back and forth.
“See something you like?” she winked.
“Someone I love.”
Momo began blushing, reaching out and rapidly batting Kyoka’s shoulders while mewling like a kitten. “When did you get so charming?”
Kyoka shrugged before leaning up and kissing Momo on the cheek.
Momo wiggled, her thighs jiggling pleasantly as she tugged backwards on Kyoka’s jacket. “Come on inside, let’s get you out of…” she paused, her nose curling up. “Oh, goodness Kyo!! Have you not washed this thing?!”
Kyoka hiked up one eyebrow. “You’re just noticing now?”
“And you’re all dirty!” Momo went on. She scowled, moving behind Kyoka and pushing her into the house. “Alright, first things first. Shower.”
“Awwe, Momo,” the sweat-stained hero began.
“Don’t start! You’re not eating until you get showered.”
Kyoka huffed, entering through the door. The smell of baking wrapped over her like a thick blanket of wifely love, a pleasantly warm scent filling her middle. “I’m not even that hungry,” she said truthfully.
“Then you’re not watching me eat, either!”
Kyoka frowned back at Momo before making the noise of a deflating balloon. “Fine,” she relented, shrugging out of her jacket while Momo peeled it off. “How’s work been?”
Momo made a small noise that sounded like a laugh as she came around Kyoka’s front. “Miss Hatsume seems far more concerned with my weight than she has any right.” Momo then reached down on one knee, holding Kyoka’s boot by the fringe so the girl could pull out. “She keeps trying to convince me to use my powers to build new inventions, and seems more and more confused when I tell her I like being this size.”
“Mei? You told her that?”
“Of course I did,” Momo straightened back up, her waist unfurling from her thick belly roll. “I’ve had to explain to the entire support core. If I just created a wrench every time I needed one, I’d be a little twig. And I’ve told them you like me as big as a trunk.”
The red paint on her face matched Kyoka’s deep blush. “Oh…”
Momo suddenly looked very unsure, her hands crossed over the top of her tummy. “Is something the matter?”
Kyoka thought for a moment before shrugging and playing with one of her jacks. “I… guess not? I mean, they already know I’m into chicks. Might as well know I’m into fat chicks.”
Momo’s spikey hair bristled and her expression turned sour.
“I-I mean, uhh,” Kyoka stuttered, “t-that I’m into one, very specific, fat chick!”
The large marshmallow’s black eyes further narrowed. Her dark expression hovered dangerously over the teeny Kyoka.
“Uhh, lady. Girlfriend. Wife!”
Momo’s scowl slowly began to spread into a smile. “You’re really cute,” she teased before leaning down and giving Kyoka a kiss on the cheek. She pulled back, her belly pressing into Kyoka’s while the small girl’s jack rubbed appreciatively on her cheek. “Gosh…” Momo’s eyes searched her whole face. “You look just like you did on that day…” she grinned.
Kyoka felt embarrassed, but it was a happy sort of flustered.
“Now, go on!” Momo stepped back, waving a hand in front of her face. “Shower!”
Kyoka swallowed. “Y-yes ma’am!” and she hopped to it, the exhaustion of the week completely forgotten as Momo’s belly bounced with a lascivious laugh.
She got to the bathroom and undressed, considering for a moment to invite Momo to the shower with her before getting embarrassed and ducking in. Even in her own home, Kyoka struggled to be so bold.
She started up the shower before taking off her torn salmon top and wiggling out of her black pants. She briefly looked herself over in the mirror, fit and bruised and covered with grime, wondering what Momo could possibly see in a chick like her. She lifted up an arm, catching a horrendous whiff of her own body odor just as Momo eclipsed the door behind her.
“Ehh?” Kyoka turned to see her wife waddle into the room, wearing a grin as wide as her waist, and just as naked.
“I thought you could use a hand…” Momo blushed sweetly.
******************************************************************************
Kyoka wondered if she should take another shower.
She certainly felt even more exhausted, laying flat on her back on their now soaking wet sheets. She watched Momo slip the large sweater back over her chest, tugging it down so that it rest on the top of her tummy before pulling her panties up around her quivering cheeks.
The simple act of getting dressed always looked so much more involved for Momo, and Kyoka could see it getting harder and harder the larger she got. She’d complained once or twice about having to use her power to make clothing that nobody had in her size anymore, but she ate more than enough to gain all the fat back, plus a little extra.
Her hair had come down around her shoulders, wet from the shower, but was quickly drying as she tied it back up. “Are you gonna come have dinner with me?” she asked.
Kyoka tried to answer, but the week of exhaustion was not compiling well with the weight that had, only a few moments ago, been straddling her lap.
Momo laughed in her deep, husky tone, looking at her handiwork in the mirror and obviously very proud of herself. “I told you I missed you,” she smiled. “The bed’s been so cold when you leave me alone.”
Kyoka tried to explain the intricacies of being a frontline hero. How when duty called, she had to be ready to drop everything and respond to the needs of the people she served.
It came out as “Huuaaagggh,” and she sunk further into the deep impression that was Momo’s side of the bed.
Momo’s giggle would give an angel their wings. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and sauntered from the room like a particularly pleased water buffalo.
Kyoka closed her eyes, trying to focus on just breathing and getting her thoughts back into her head rather than dribbling like drool out of her mouth. It took a lot of energy for her to sit back up, but she pulled herself to the edge of the bed before reaching her dresser.
A black bra beneath a sleeveless white top, and only that much because those clothes were pre-assembled. She didn’t bother with pants, instead snagging a simple purple pair of panties and pulling them on.
She went to Momo’s dresser and looked over all of her beauty products, from the moisturizer that she rubbed into her belly to her favorite lip gloss and her numerous bottles of sparkling nail polish.
Kyoka liked nail polish. It was the only real makeup she did like, besides the touch of face paint she wore as Earphone Jack. But she could never wear the stuff anymore because her nails chipped so easily.
Momo’s nails didn’t chip. She had fine, soft, beautiful hands.
Thinking about that made Kyoka really happy.
There was a noise from the doorway as Momo returned. “Oh!” she looked over. “I thought for a minute you were going to fall asleep.”
Kyoka sniggered. “So you were gonna get crumbs all over the bed again?”
“One time!” Momo blushed. “It was fried chicken, of course it’s crumbly! This is just sandwiches?”
“More than one?”
“You know it takes more than one to satisfy me,” Momo said in a way that made Kyoka’s mind spin back to five minutes ago.
Momo sat on the edge of the bed, reinforced bedsprings whining beneath the heavy weight. From a large plastic baggie, she withdrew three long paper containers.
“I got these from My Hero’s down on Windwalker Street,” she said with delight as she unwrapped each. Then she began laughing, lifting the back of her hand to her lips. “Oh, dear. We took too long, the meatball sub’s all cold.”
A naughty smile filled her face with a pink blush, turning up to Kyoka as she approached.
“You’re lucky that the other two weren’t toasted.”
“Am I?” Kyoka asked. “What would you do if they weren’t?”
Momo hummed, thinking. She lifted the meatball sub, gooey with melted cheese and wet marinara sauce, taking an extra-large bite. “Pably nufing,” she said through her mouthful.
Kyoka came closer, posing in front of Momo with her hands on her hips. “Nothing? Well that’s no fun. You can’t think of anything?”
“Aim eatin’!” Momo continued.
Kyoka lifted a finger, playing with one of her ear jacks. “Well, you could always punish me for being so distracting…”
Momo’s mouth stretched wide for another large bite, her mouth twisting in slow revolving bites. Her wide tummy throbbed as she swallowed, pushing in and out as she took a deep breath. “Oof,” she placed one hand on her tummy as the food settled, then turned up to Kyoka. “And how would I punish you?”
“You’re smart enough to think up something,” Kyoka shuffled on her legs, waggling her hips from side to side.
Momo took another bite and Kyoka fell to her knees, her hands resting on Momo’s legs and spreading them wide. Her thighs were still wet, so soft and delicious, the fat nearly obscuring even the sliver of her dark black panties.
“You could lay me down…” Kyoka’s fingers crawled up Momo’s hips before seizing dual handfuls of fat. She pulled her an inch forward, the bed squealing in protest as Momo’s knees pressed into Kyoka’s shoulders. She placed her chin on the edge of the bed, looking up into Momo’s pink blush from beneath her fat belly. She could hardly see her eyes over her un-bounded breasts. “Could squish me, smother me…”
Momo laughed through the last bite of her sandwich, taking Kyoka by the back of her head and gently skating her fingers through her hair. She lifted her weighty legs, resting them on top of Kyoka’s shoulders and pulling her even closer to her most sensitive spot.
Kyoka leaned in and kissed Momo’s panties, lifting her arms to circle around her thighs. Her hands reached the rolling curve of her tummy, lifting it up and dropping it so it dropped on her face.
The seductive aroma was secreting though the air, overlapping the smells of soap and body wash. Kyoka could feel Momo’s slight gyration, flexing herself up to Kyoka’s lips while Kyoka could feel a similar response from herself.
She lifted back, her teeth skating over her lower lip. “Keep eating,” she reminded. “Don’t want your food to get cold…”
“O-o-okay,” Momo’s breathing shook, her round tummy shuttering as she made a small, pleasure groan. She reached for the next sandwich and Kyoka returned to her legs, kissing the tender flesh of her thighs.
On her knees, Kyoka worshiped Momo’s body with her hands, with her lips, and with a flick of her tongue. Momo nearly fell backwards, hardly catching herself and letting her belly smother the crest of Kyoka’s crown.
Her belly made loud, digestive gurgles as the second sandwich proceeded to vanish into the maw of her appetite, passing so quickly that neither girl really noticed until Momo tried to bite her emptied hand. She was breathing heavily, the pink line nearly solid over her cheeks and her nose.
Both of her hands mixed in Kyoka’s hair, pulling her closer and letting Kyoka’s tongue slide over the fabric before she made several small tugs and pulled Kyoka back. Momo’s chest was heaving, her belly sagged down between her fat legs, but she lifted herself from the bed and pushed her hungry wife down on the edge.
It took a moment, but Momo pushed Kyoka back so that her knees could barely reach the edge before climbing on top of her strong wife. Kyoka was forced to support herself, hardly able to make room for Momo’s belly. She locked her arms behind her, felt the pressure of Momo’s gut sagging against her waist.
“I know what I want,” Momo panted, reaching into the last sandwich bag.
Kyoka’s ear jacks skated over Momo’s bare belly, lifting the hem of her sweater up beneath her round breasts. She watched, biting her lip, as Momo unwrapped the last sandwich. The growl of her tummy shook both girls as Momo lifted it to her lips and held the other end to Kyoka.
She gestured, waggling her hand, and Kyoka responded. At first, she thought Momo wanted her to feed her, but after taking the sandwich Momo made a noise and gestured to her end.
Kyoka chuckled, taking her lips and biting down on her end. Momo and her both chewed, never removing their lips from the sub. It made them eat messier, wet drips from the lettuce and the tomatoes dribbling down their cheeks, staining their mouths with fatty mayonnaise, the sharp tang of onion and peppers spiking the flavor.
They ate towards one another, with Momo’s large lips and fat cheeks growing closer with each harrowing bite. She ate so much more than Kyoka, at least three parts to her single quarter, and the last of the rod vanished along with the support in Kyoka’s aching arms as Momo tipped her onto her back, locking her wife in a fat, mayonnaise-covered kiss.
Kyoka wrapped around Momo as best as she could, squeezing her wife with all the power in her arms. She felt when Momo swallowed, felt her gasp for air and saw the widening iris of her amorous eyes.
Their lips opened, tongues mixing together in a deep, fat kiss, and Momo indulged in her favorite taste of them all. The lips of her hero.
