Magical Myra!

"Eheheh, uuhn..."

Myra's actions are charming in the sense that Flandre could see herself playing with someone's belly the same way, shyness flickering away as the gesture pulls a giggle out of her. And judging by the foreboding vibration Myra feels against her hand, she roused a lot more than just amusement. Flandre goes silent, cheeks puffing out, and...!

"BWOOOOOOUUUUURRRRPP!!"

"Huoh... I meant to say okay! You're so fat though, my sister might not be able to tell us apart when she meets you!"

Emphasizing her point, Flandre is returning the favor, free arm kneading the other's drum-tight gut.

"Oh c'mon... I mean we're both blonde, but that's about it."

It's definitely not that the two of them are getting so fat right now that they could each fill up an entire Alaskan king bed on their own. Nope, it's just that they're both blonde with red tinted eyes. The fact that Flandre's entire hand can vanish into Myra's mountainous middle has nothing to do with the comparison.

Sloshing a bit, a burp bubble up past her lips as Flandre shook her, leaning her head back to let out a-

"Umf-"

The ticklish sensation on her belly elicits a squeak and giggle from the butterball vampire, who seems to take some amusement in the shared comparison.

"Yeah... Our maid back home can do almost anything; whatever I ask for, she'll make it. And it's just as good as this stuff, too."

That said, Flandre is quick to answer another rumble of her belly with several jelly donuts, practically eating away her embarrassment. Ironically, this act is enough for her globular gut to free itself from its dress, the strained fabric slipping out from under Myra's arm to let her touch bare skin.

"I guess we both have pretty big bellies, huh~?"

Giggling, her own embarrassment slowly fading as she got comfortable, Myra gave an appreciative pat to Flandre's exposed tummy. Letting her hand get a grip on it, shaking it, she giggled as her own own shirt kept riding high. Stuffing her face with her free hand, Myra's own stomach get bloating outwards, getting so huge that the bottom of her bra was starting to peek out as her shirt keep going up and up.

Huffing, starting to feel full, Myra giggled as she pushed another pastry past her lips anyway, gulping it down.

"But I don't wanna be a bad guest. Hmmf......"

Letting out a contemplative hum through her next mouthful, the metaphorical lightbulb pops up over her head, remembering her promise right from earlier.

"...Here, my sister will pay for it!"

Repeating the same line she used in the bakery, Flandre produces the wad of cash that had been stored in her cleavage, and blindly feeling around Myra's upper body, eventually finds the same place to store it.

"A-Ah, w-wait..."

It's a shock to the doughy heroine to have her chest so suddenly grabbed, the feeling of blind groping across her bust reminding her that she's grown up there too. Nothing puts into perspective your immense weight gain than seeing how small someone's hand is compared to you. Or how tiny a wad of cash looks wedged between your boobs.

"O-Okay, but only for the bed..."

Shuffling, she squished closer to Flan. If she was getting squeezed, it only made sense to squeeze the vampire back, taking a huge handful of her stomach.

Briefly stunned by the "SNAP!" of the bedframe and the ensuing crash denting the mattress in the shape of Flandre's backside - and likely Myra's, too - she can hardly register what's happening before another interruption prolongs her daze: the reverberating sound of Myra's belly smacking into the side of hers.

The two are now as physically close as two girls of their size can be, laying hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder, gelatinous bellies leaning against each other as if giving support...

"Uhh...mmmm... Oops." An excuse delivered with the nonchalance of someone who's done this before. "Sakuya will- oh, nevermind... Hoomph."

"Mmmpph... ish... okay..."

Mumbling through a mouthful of cake slices as she keeps stuffing her face, the situation definitely isn't helped by Myra's shirt riding up, her bloating belly getting larger with every bite she shoves past her face. She was due for a new bed anyway, so seeing this one go to pieces didn't bother her that much.

If anything, it gave her the excuse to get a new one later. For now, though, she'd rather wiggle in place, pushing her hefty body closer to the other girl.

Sure, that means their fat bodies are even more heavily weighing on each other, the contact only getting closer as they get bigger, but...

'Mmph' isn't even a real adjective, but Myra will hear no disagreements; she can't stop herself from letting out a similar hum of delight with her first bite - that is, slice crammed in whole - of cake. And another, and another, and another... The way she lies on her back and fills her belly is like watching a balloon gradually expand with air.

It's only after she has set the world record for fastest time eating a cake that she tilts her head to the side, realizing her friend is sitting alone in a depressing display, to which she pats the bare space next to her.

She knows how this will end.

Yet the mood is so warm and comfy that she can't mind it. So, with a smile, she'll slowly rise up, softly chewing on her own eclair. It's an exercise in futility to bring her butt down on the edge of the bed slowly, as if it makes her quarter heft any lighter. As soon as one cheek is resting on the bed?

It breaks.

Huffing, mouth full of a doughnut, she lands on Flandre's belly, huge gut to huge gut. Looking down at her as the remains of her bed were crushed beneath them, doughnut hanging from her lips, Myra blinked.

Taking Myra's demonstration to heart, Flandre tries her best to suck in her gut and wriggle through from the side. Seeing as she's just a bit fatter than the other, it's not long before she finds herself sandwiched cozily between the frame, and try as she might, unable to squeeze through.

Ultimately forced to employ brute force, Flandre pushes herself through, stumbling through at the expense of any easily knocked over objects, which fall victim to her quaking steps.

"You're right - easy!" cheers Flandre, flopping down on Myra's bed, which, through nothing short of a miracle survives the impact, albeit with a horrific creak.

It's okay, she's learned not to keep anything lose, her own destructive hips a source for plenty of her headaches. Thankfully, that means there's nothing nearby to bowl over with her very generous hips.

Though, still, that's a lot of blubber. She can't deny the other blonde wears it well. Opting to lower her own fat ass onto the floor next to Flandre, she started to open up the dozens and dozens of boxes of pastries they'd brought with them.

"Yeah~ These really are just..." Cupping her cheek, drooling a little, Myra cut herself off as she stuffed a doughnut past her lips whole.

"A-parchment? I've never been to one. Is it like a hideout?"

Flandre trails behind Myra, the scent of cake wafting from the boxes in tow acting like a lure encouraging her to keep moving despite the tiring walk.

So eventually they arrive, and to no one's surprise, it doesn't seem like the doorway can accomodate for Flandre ... or even Myra, for that matter.

"Oh, um, yeah! You just have to..."

Sucking in a deep breath, turning sideways, Myra lifted up her arms. It was a tough shimmy, her enormous hips squishing into the doorframe as her sucked in stomach still completely enveloped the frame. Popping through to the other side, belly sagging down as she released her breath, she beamed happily.

"Flandre."

In contrast, Flandre is beaming with pride at having what she perceives as a successful social interaction. Coming in, directly asking for what she wants, and getting it. All while making a new companion.

"Now that I think about it, the mansion is a little far away. If I fly us there, the bags might tear open and spill... And I bet you'd have to go through identification and stuff to get past our guard... What about your house? Is it good?"

"Fly?"

She must be cracking a joke. Chuckling, Myra nodded.

"Sure, we can stop by my place, my apartment isn't too far from here. It'll be nice, and we can just relax."

Though, as she lumbers in that direction, leading the way, Myra might be forgetting some very crucial details about her apartment. Mainly the aspects of floor space.

But that can come up later.

"Eh?"

And here Flandre was, ready to hand over the wad of money taken from Remilia's purse ... but seeing as her friend insists on covering the cost, the cash goes back between her cleavage.

"You didn't tell me you were rich. Good idea though; Remi would be furious if she caught me spending her money!"

As a show of gratitude, Flandre hangs as many bags as will fit on her plump arms, somehow not breaking a sweat despite their lack of definition!

"So, are we supposed to eat here, or can we take it wherever we want? I'd love to have these in my bed!"

"You're welcome..."

Slumping in defeat as she takes her own armfuls of bags, her pudgy forearms squishing around the plastic, she does feel a bit embarrassed. It already felt a little shy to order a large meal from here, but to get literally everything?

She's nodding to Flandre's suggestion.