Chapter 3- toasted marshmallows

She finished with my closet. She stopped next to the bed.
“I’ll have some additional things I want to go over tomorrow,” she informed me. I nodded in the affirmative but I don’t know how much actually registered. However, almost immediately after talking I heard her stomach growl again. I watched as she rubbed and patted it as if she was soothing a child.
“It just takes so much more to satisfy me now,” she muttered and sunk a finger deep into her stomach. I almost choked on my own breath. I watched her up until the point she returned to her room. I was still in my wet riding clothes but if I wanted to go forward with my plan I didn’t have time to change.
I waited patiently in the common area between Pepper and my room sprawled out on the loveseat. Finally I could hear staff from the kitchen wheeling one of their carts outside. I quickly stepped out into the hall. I flagged down the guy with the cart before he even got to the door.

“Why is there only one cart? It’s supposed to be two,” I eyed him suspiciously.

His eyes widened and I saw him scratch his beard anxiously.
“Oh my apologies-,” as I heard him speaking I could tell he was about to get stuttery.

“No worries, maybe we could just go back to the kitchen and get a second cart,” I gave him a soft smile with my innocent suggestion.

“Of course, right away!”

Without him noticing I found a way to grab the cart so I was the one pushing it as he went back to the kitchen empty handed.

I waited for him outside of the kitchen as he prepared a second cart.

“Hey, I don’t want anyone to notice your mistake. Why don’t you just let me wheel both carts back to our rooms. My guest won’t mind at all,” I smiled at him and his face was encouraging.
He scratched his beard again, “you really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not a problem just remember to bring two carts of food for each meal, going forward,” I said grabbing both carts. The relief on his face and his immediate nod told me everything I needed to know. It was a bit tricky wheeling two carts at once but I managed. Once I was back to the hallway that lead to my room I stopped. Just as I had suspected there was enough room on one cart for the amount of food served between two. So essentially I just doubled Pepper’s dinner and loaded all of it up on one cart. I had a feeling if she didn’t see it presented on two carts she would finish all of it not suspecting she was receiving a portion for two instead of one. I left the empty cart in the hall outside of our room to better hide the evidence of my plan. I checked to make sure she wouldn’t catch me wheeling it in and when the coast was clear I delivered the cart loaded up with food to her door. I felt a burst of giddy energy as I returned to my room. Despite peeling off my wet and muddy riding clothes I had long forgotten about my misadventure that afternoon. Before getting into the bath I had drawn I peeked back out into the common area to see the cart gone. As I soaked I pictured Pepper filling up on two dinners instead of one. Later that evening after my bath to my delight when I looked back into the common room I saw the cart. It was covered with empty plates, not a scrap left. Just as I suspected she was too greedy to even realized she’d doubled her food intake.

The next morning at breakfast I did the same thing. One cart loaded up with enough breakfast for two people. I left the cart sitting unassumingly outside Pepper’s door.

I spent the rest of my morning getting ready and then I heard a knock at my door as the morning was closing in on noon.

It was Pepper. I let her in.

“No corset today,” I asked knowingly. She gave me a look but didn’t give me a response. I noticed she had fabric swatches in her hand. I listened to her rummage through my closet for a while in silence. Then the shuffle of her looking through my clothes suddenly stopped. I looked up to find her standing in a very awkward position near the closet door. Her expression was perplexing. It was plain to see she was mulling over a decision. Something about this look resurfaced memories of her beaming expression the first time we met. I saw her set the fabric swatches on my desk and her expression hardened.

“What sort of dances are popular here,” I heard her voice waver.

“The Monrovia Waltz is kind of the fad now,” I felt the anxiety she must have had when asking rising in my chest.

She nodded quietly and I could tell she’d never even heard of Monrovia. I wondered if we were both thinking the same thing. I saw her reaching for the swatches of fabric.

“It’s not that different from a typical waltz the tempo is just moved to three quarter time,” I muttered.

Her face betrayed the silent horror within. I almost went to ask what was wrong.
“I can show you how to,” I stepped towards her.

I could tell by the way even her arms froze rigidly she was petrified of that possibility.
“I haven’t even waltzed before,” she admitted. I was relieved her visible upset had nothing to do with being near me.
I stepped up closer to her and weaseled my arm into the small of her back. When I pulled her body up against me I felt her overfed middle touch first. It pressed defiantly against me as I attempted to pull all of her in closer. My grin sprang to life as her irked expression formed.
“Have enough breakfast,” my voice dropped almost to a whisper. A flurry of exasperation and irritation played across her face ending with a sigh.
“I don’t exactly hear your stomach growling,” I continued.

She pressed her hands against my breastplate readying to push me away.
“I don’t need you to show me the waltz, I have people for that,” she maintained a composed look as she spoke.

“But you don’t have people who can roast you marshmallows,” I continued. My hand ventured away from the dip in her silhouette where the descend to her butt caused her figure to gradually flare out. I pulled her in in again feeling impact of two breakfasts and two dinners rounding out her belly.
“Could you even handle a marshmallow right now? I wouldn’t want you to pop,” I leaned in. I could see her feathers ruffling.

“Roasted marshmallows actually sound good,” she shot back at me.
I licked my lips getting ready to call her bluff. I was about to say something but I remembered the time. Lunch was approaching and the chance I might miss tampering with her food cart was just too great a risk. I gently tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. Leaning in close I whispered
“Stop by tomorrow and I’ll have some for you then. I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite today,” I felt her bristling underneath me as I spoke.

She left and I waited for the door to shut behind her. When I heard the lunch carts coming I met the delivery boy in the hall again.
With my hands placed adamantly on my hips I started in on him,
“Where’s the dessert cart?”

He stopped and stared at me and his face grew pale. I conjured the most exasperated face I could muster before massaging just between my eyes. This was mainly to hide any essence of a self satisfied smirk that was forming on my lips.
I heard him stammering out some kind of excuse I quickly swatted my hand at him to dismiss it.
“Just please remember to bring a dessert cart for dinner and for all meals going forward,” I sighed.

He nodded vehemently and as soon as he turned his back I smiled to myself.

So as it turned out Pepper had two lunches, two dinners and a cart of desserts. While she was no doubt sleeping it off I snuck into the Royal kitchen under the cover of night. I stole a sack of marshmallows.
——
The next day I waited around for Pepper to roll her empty lunch and dessert cart out of her room. Finally her door opened.
“Still want roasted marshmallows,” as I asked I playfully rested my chin in my hand. She sheepishly nodded and came out into the common area. I wondered if it was my imagination coloring my perception, but she already looked fatter. Her belly very obviously entered the room before she did, proudly bouncing out in front of with every step. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised, one helping of today’s lunch was enough to put full grown men into food-coma. I couldn’t help but wonder what double the portion of braised lamb, mashed potatoes, and brioche plus the smorgasbord of desserts was going to do to her figure. She made a face as she walked over to the couch and I caught her using her hand to try to steady her wobbling middle. It occurred to me this might be her first time walking around on such a full stomach since she usually hid out in her room. When she sat down she spread her legs so her belly rested on couch as well. Suddenly nervous, I reached for the marshmallows. I had a roasting stick and I began to skewer them. I heard a creaking and realized she was leaning back lazily into the backboard of the couch.
“Does it hurt,” she inquired softly.
“Hmm?”
I mumbled as I fussed with the marshmallows. She kept smoothing out the fabric on the widest part of her gut. I couldn’t tell if she was wanting to relieve the tension in that area. I almost didn’t want to engage the question because it occurred to me she might have just asked just to prolong having to eat anything else.
“When you breathe fire, does it hurt?”
I grimaced because it was a fair question.
“A bit,” I conceded.
For a moment I glanced up from the marshmallow skewer to her face. It read soft cherubic pity. Suddenly, I felt sick. I was taken aback by the guilty-decaying-sweetness building in the pit of my stomach that had been given life by her caring expression.
“I could just roast them in the fireplace,” she suggested innocently.
I shook my head no and stood up from the couch with my skewer in hand. Just before I started I stole a momentary glance to look at her again. Gone was her self-righteous expression and huffy blustery cheeks. All that was left was a sincere glimmer of admiration that shone in the little blue eyes below me. The jolt of pride she inspired was tempered by the sting of guilt. I quickly diverted my mind of the complicated feelings. I controlled my exhale of flame so that it dwindled to a lower heat that just perfectly toasted the sides of each marshmallow. I slowly turned the skewer until the marshmallows were finished. When I was done I exhaled excess flame into the fireplace. I went to hand her the skewer and she greedily grabbed for it.
“Where does your ability come from,” she asked before squishing a melted morsel into her mouth.

“Well there is a legend passed down by my ancestors that traces all the way back to the first people to settle in this area.”

I sat down on the ottoman directly across from where she was sprawled on the couch. I watched as she crammed oozing marshmallow into her fat face with very little decorum. I wondered if she could just keep eating forever. In an attempt to distract her or maybe myself I told her the legend.

When the first people came to this area they weren’t prepared for the extreme cold. In the middle of their first winter an ice storm hit and they couldn’t build any fires. One man went to the spirit of the forest for help. He was able to persuade the spirit that his intentions were pure and he would only use gifts bestowed on him to save his people. She gave him the kiss of fire. He became the first leader. Going forward those fit to lead are born with fire breath.

Pepper acknowledged the myth with a non verbal noise as I watched her struggle with the last bite. Strings of melted marshmallow clung to her lips and she looked blissed out from the sugar. She slumped back her fingers almost magnetically falling to where her stomach bulged out. Without thinking I leaned down from above her. I ran my fingers from the packed firm top of her belly to the lower soft fatty hang. When my fingers disappeared underneath I heard a soft gasp, chuckling I continued jostle her overfed gut watching it bounce up towards her breast only to plop forward into my hands. She groaned and occasionally belched each time it sprung up. I brought my lips to her ear as I placed the flat of my palm on her distended gut.
“Feels like you’ve been eating well. I guess the cuisine from around here agrees with you,” as I spoke my I found my lips coming to rest on her cheek. Nips and nibbles slowly became soft hesitant kisses planted on her cheek. Even in her dull state I felt her wriggle beneath me as her breathing sped up. Then she kissed me, her lips firmly planted on my own like an arrow at the fair hitting the bullseye. Without warning her fingers were embedded into my hair as her body pressed up against mine her softness eliminating any gaps between us. She pulled my face down and kissed me harder. Any trepidation holding me back melted away and I sunk into her further.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”