~BBW, ~~WG
Part 1: Daddy and His Princess
Aimée’s long pretty lashes fluttered. She yawned and stretched and settled back onto her plush throne of blankets and pillows. She glanced around the room, ran her fingers through her hair to twirl a lock and pouted. Sofia usually brought in a cart of gleaming dome-lidded silver platters and woke her for dinner, but here she was awake with no Sofia and nothing to eat. After sitting there helpless for a little while like a puppy waiting at an empty dish, she looked down at the silk nightie just barely covering her up and sighed. She reluctantly pulled up the nightie and squeezed two handfuls of her buttery tummy, then let it go and watched it jiggle. She lightly bit her bottom lip. She felt like crying.
She never really had any friends at that fancy prep school. People usually just ignored her. Every afternoon she used to sit up in her room by herself and look around at all the wonderful clothes and jewelry and everything daddy had bought her, feeling trapped. Mommy’s medicine cabinet had been so tempting but she was too scared and then mommy was gone and daddy was always working and she didn’t know what to do. She was so useless -- too shy to flirt and have fun like Claire, too spoiled to stop being so unbelievably lazy and too fat to stop eating so much even with a big belly starting to rest on her lap and a big butt wobbling behind her and big jello thighs spread and touching even when she spread her legs to --
Aimée heard herself moan softly and realized she had been kneading her tummy with one hand while the other stroked the wet warmth beneath it. She wondered if she could be a masochist. She was confused but then ohmygod it felt so good and she hadn’t in a long time and she couldn’t help moaning a little louder and all of a sudden there was Sofia in the doorway with dinner.
Aimée was terrified. She pulled down her nightie and blushed deep crimson, then a pathetic little whimper escaped her and she started to cry.
“Oh, sweetie,” Sofia rushed over to soothe poor Aimée, cooing nonsense and holding her close until she finally calmed down.
Aimée sniffed, wiped her eyes and looked away, embarrassed. Sofia gently took Aimée’s cheek in her hand and looked into her lovely doe eyes. They were red and puffy and still glittering with tears. Sofia leaned in and she couldn’t help it. She gave sad sad Aimée a long, sweet, glossy-pink kiss.
Aimée closed her eyes and let a dreamy daze melt her limp lying snugly wrapped in soft Sofia. She managed to kiss back. She felt warm. When she opened her eyes again the V Sofia’s blouse made had opened wider and wider and then disappeared, leaving just a lacy black silk bra to hold Sofia’s caramel breasts in the roundest, cushiest shelf. Aimée stared at the tender darkness where they met, all squished together like that. Aimée watched it relax as Sofia peeled away the bra too, letting her bare breasts loll over her pudgy tummy. Aimée watched them wobble and sway as Sofia ran her hands over Aimée’s hips and tugged at her nightie. Aimée raised her arms so Sofia could lift it over her head. She was naked underneath. She was almost milky-pale from hiding inside so long, glowing soft and pink against creamy olive Sofia. Her doughy body was like scoops of vanilla ice cream just beginning to melt. Her pretty cherub’s face was rosy with wanting and shame that she couldn’t control.
Sofia tossed the nightie on the carpet and fetched the cart she’d left by the door. She cuddled up beside Aimée on the sofa, chose a platter and lifted the lid. It was autumn-colored, savory-scented, gravy-smothered Christmas Eve.
Sofia scooped a spoonful of sweet potatoes and brought it to Aimée’s mouth. Aimée was confused and a little embarrassed again. She opened hesitantly and ate daintily, afraid to spill until some fell on her tits and Sofia paused to kiss it off, got distracted and lapped at Aimée’s small supple breast, coaxing out a soft girly moan. Aimée felt Sofia touching her tummy and Sofia felt warm tender cream, like she was squeezing a marshmallow. Aimée had finished her sweet potatoes and when more didn’t come she found she couldn’t wait.
Sofia couldn’t believe how amazingly, preciously soft Aimée was. She almost expected her fingers to be sticky with gooey sugar when she slowly trailed down to hot wetness that made Aimée smile and close her eyes and let out the most adorable whine, even cuter with her cherry-red cheeks all round and full. Aimée couldn’t help melting even more in all the bright shiny candy happiness and then Sofia was licking and lightly nibbling her stiff nipple and she was reaching for more and more and more spilling on the nice sofa cover and Sofia’s fingers were nimble magic shooting fireworks into black glitter-dusted (ahhhhhhhh…).
There was nothing left on the platter but crumbs sinking in gravy. Aimée suddenly realized that she was really full and it hurt a little, but Sofia was kissing her and massaging her tummy and she was so so cozy and so so tired.
Aimée was about to doze off when she felt something against her lips. Her lashes fluttered -- all she could see was Sofia’s breast. She took it in her mouth and suckled. Sofia cradled Aimée’s head in a hand and held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep.
Sofia cleaned up the sofa and covered Aimée in some blankets. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, looked at her for a moment, smiled and melted in those mushy awws -- she always thought there was nothing so beautiful as a girl happy to be lost in her dreams.
It was noon the next day when Aimée finally stirred. She was curled up on the same sofa, still naked under lots of soft warm blankets. She only remembered just how wonderful silk felt against her bare skin when she self-consciously pulled the blankets up to her chin. She spent a long time snuggling and squirming and playing with herself and sighing happily before she decided she was comfy.
It was a good day. She could see dark gray clouds through the window and hear rain pattering on the roof. She touched her nose -- it was cold. She smiled and nuzzled her pillow -- it was fluffy. She loved being comfy and inside on a rainy day. She thought about lying right where she was for the rest of this one. She thought about Sofia and felt like drawing hearts all over a piece of lined paper. Then she remembered it was Christmas.
Aimée wasn’t happy anymore. Every year on Christmas daddy hosted a party and she had to dress up and have awkward conversations with relatives or daddy’s friends or their kids and sit somewhere trying to pretend she was bored instead of terrified. She didn’t think that ever worked. All of a sudden her stomach was in a knot and her chest was tight and she really just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up noon the next day. She thought about last night and what if daddy found out and she wasn’t exactly sure but it would definitely be bad or what if he didn’t but Sofia got tired of her like everyone else and was too nice to say anything but she would know anyway oh it would be so bad all the time and and.
Aimée heard someone in the hall, remembered she had nothing on under the blankets and panicked in her head. She pretended to be asleep. She pretended she didn’t feel nauseas.
Sofia stood by the door for a second before she came in. Aimée was still where she’d left her, all curled up now. She was such a sweetheart. Sofia padded over and gently rocked her shoulder. Aimée looked up at her and Sofia kissed her forehead.
“I got you a present.” Sofia said.
Aimée sat up, holding the blankets over her breasts and smiling shyly. Sofia handed her her nightie and she pulled it on.
Aimée’s present was in her room, sitting on her bed -- a plain white box with a red bow. There were piles more from daddy and other people, but she only glanced at those.
“When…?” She said, a tiny melody trailing off somewhere nice.
Sofia blushed. “I saw it last night and…I dunno.”
Aimée undid the bow, lifted the top and held up a pretty red dress with white polka dots. She blushed too. She started to take a step, stopped, felt silly and gingerly floated into giving Sofia a bashful kiss on her tip-toes. Then her tummy made a noise.
Sofia smiled and said she’d go get some breakfast.
Aimée watched Sofia go and sighed happy happily. She lie on her bed and looked at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop smiling a nice lazy smile. And all of a sudden it was a good day again. In a little while Sofia brought back cinnamon chocolate chip pancakes sprinkled with brown sugar and syrup drizzles, a tall cold glass of milk, cherry crepes and warm apple pie ala mode and fed it to Aimée cuddled up beside her on her big cozy bed. Aimée couldn’t get over how amazing it felt just lying there with her eyes closed, almost dozing off as she got lost in delicious sweetness and sweet softness. Sofia would give her a taste of pie and ice cream between bites of crepe and fluffy pancake sometimes and when there was only pie left Sofia scooped big spoonfuls seeing how much she stuff in Aimée’s mouth, giggling when Aimée looked up at her helplessly with her cute rosy cheeks so round. And when everything was gone Sofia massaged Aimée’s full belly, snuggling close loving her delicate downy skin and nuzzling and nestling in the waves of her long glossy hair spilling softly-curled and wispy from sleep over the pillows.
Sofia forgot about everything but darling little Aimée. Aimée was too happy to think of anything at all. They came and came and drifted off to sleep melting into each other’s warm cushiness.
Hours later Sofia woke up before Aimée. At first she was scared someone had seen them but then she remembered Mr. Fournier at least had been off somewhere or other all day. He’d be back soon, though. She got up and went to the bathroom and when she got out Aimée was just starting to make her leisurely way out of bed.
Sofia gave sleepy Aimée a goodmorning kiss and helped her get pretty for the party. Hair brushed silky smooth and just enough makeup. Cute shoes. Her present looked even more adorable on her than Sofia thought. They were looking at themselves looking at them in the mirror and Sofia clasped her hands over Aimée’s warm polka-dotted tummy from behind, rested her head on her shoulder and got tickled by her hair. She told Aimée she was beautiful and kissed her blushing cheek.
Downstairs was amazing -- lights and tinsel and mistletoe and red and green and silver and gold and lots and lots of shiny sparkling things around an enormous shiny sparkling tree fawning over heaps of nicely wrapped presents. A row of teddy bears in wool sweaters sitting on the mantle of a fireplace. Aimée was used to it, but Sofia still always stopped for a moment and took it all in before she had to go serve drinks.
Aimée found an empty sofa. She rested her chin on her hand and sighed. She had never been very good at parties. She looked around at pretty girls in cute little dresses flirting with boys and having fun and making soap operas of their lives. She could see them whispering or laughing sometimes as they noticed her and forgot about her. (Claire waved and blew a kiss.) She tried not to feel too bad for herself. It didn’t work.
She gazed longingly over at the buffet table. She really wanted more Christmas really bad. There were all kinds of ridiculous cakes and pies and cookies and puddings and what looked like gingerbread sitting in a spiced cream. And before she knew it she was up and drawn toward it against any protest she could think of. She’d look like such a pig, it would be so embarrassing and she was already so oh my it was gingerbread. Aimée had never used the word “fabulous” in her life, but she fell in love. Icing-topped chocolate cookies that looked like snowflakes, English trifles, pinwheeled sponge cake filled with raspberry cream, butternut squash pudding, charlotte russe with butterscotch sauce, little chocolate cupcakes holding big thimbles of chocolate ganache, pecan pie, vanilla buttercream frosted spice cake, snickerdoodle after snickerdoodles (and and and). Aimée couldn’t help herself. Her tummy hurt and she could feel it pressed against her dress even more than it was, but she decided that felt nice. She’d been wet since she tasted that gingerbread. Standing was pretty uncomfortable. Being around all these people was pretty uncomfortable. She hurried to the bathroom.
Aimée had only just pulled up her dress and sat with her hand down her panties when someone knocked at the door. She whined helplessly.
“Yes?” She called.
“Aimée,” It was Sofia.
Aimée cracked the door and looked through. Sofia slipped in and kissed her. She’d seen Aimée at the buffet table and couldn’t wait either.
Aimée had never been fondled in a bathroom during a party before. She thought it was fun. Sofia did most of the stroking and caressing and kissing and licking, but she helped too. Aimée got to suckle Sofia’s breast again and try playing with her pussy and then Sofia with an unspoken let me show you how this is done basically made love to her -- Aimée hadn’t felt anything so good since earlier that day, especially with her poor full round tummy making everything just weak-kneed ecstasy. When it was over both girls seemed to collapse inside like you collapse on the couch after a long day and let the cushions deal with your soft coddled body.
“I ate so much.” Aimée moaned.
“Your tummy’s really big.” Sofia said.
They sat there enjoying being next to someone for a while and then Aimée asked:
“Sofia?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like my tummy?”
“I love your tummy.”
“I think I like it too.”
“It’s a nice tummy.”
And they were quiet again until Aimée just giggled and said:
“Oh my god we’re so weird.”
J’aime XOXOh My
by falsette
[Author’s note: A friend of mine who is actually French and isn’t just writing something set in Paris because she liked the idea of it pointed out the accent on Aimée, and a few little things were already nagging at me, so here’s an edit. For anyone reading the story for the first time, you get to ignore this. ]by falsette
Part 1: Daddy and His Princess
Nicholas Michel Fournier was a gentleman of hard-learned principle. He had spent his youth with cardboard soles in his shoes and a passionate drive to succeed. He had gotten lucky and entered his forties a wealthy lawyer with a beautiful mansion in Auteuil and a host of domestic servants. He usually managed to handle his work, appearances and unfortunate divorce with grace. All that really troubled him anymore was an affectionately frustrating soft spot for his only daughter, Aimée Léa Fournier.
Every night it seemed he would walk into his beautiful mansion after a long day at the firm to find Aimée dozing on the sofa in a cocoon of warm silk blankets, a tray or two sticky with rings of icing where there must have been rows of delicious pastries sitting within arms reach. He had tried before to tell her to get up and do something with her life but her reply was just always so disarming. She had never screamed at him or thrown a tantrum or even stomped up the stairs; she only nodded, leaving him to watch her rosy cheeks turn white and her soft brown eyes get watery as her pretty head bobbed a feeble “yes, daddy.” The whole thing left him feeling cruel and petty, like he’d just beaten a kitten for nothing more than curling up on his favorite seat. It hurt. So he took it all back with an “oh princess don’t cry,” satisfied that at least his little girl was happy.
Unfortunately for both Nicholas and his little girl, though, Aimée wasn’t really happy. In fact, she was kind of miserable. After only just barely graduating a fancy prep school that required fancy uniforms and taught spoiled kids who had fancy parents, Aimée had been at a loss for how she should get up and do something with her life. She was a terrible writer, artist and musician. College was school again, which was people and deadlines and responsibilities, which scared her. Work was actual work, which scared her even worse. Thoroughly petrified, she ended up spending a year asleep on something cushioned whenever she wasn’t staring at the TV, stuffing her face, masturbating or attempting everything at once. Eventually she turned nineteen and found a year of nothing had softened her into an effete puff of the lightest lavender still less capable of making any decisions having anything to do with a thing so daunting as her own life.
And the other rich girls she had to try to talk to at daddy’s parties were giggling at how she’d let herself go. She woke up exhausted no matter how much she slept. She never really felt like climbing out of bed in the morning and could never really remember why she bothered when she did. The only thing she honestly looked forward to anymore was seeing Sofia, her maid.
Sofia was a cute, friendly Spanish girl whose parents also worked for Aimée’s daddy. She had a cozy pair of heavy-looking tits that made jogging embarrassing, an infectious giggle and an affectionately frustrating secret that was getting harder and harder to keep: she was in love with Aimée.
Sofia loved Aimée’s glossy brunette hair with those cute straight bangs and the way she absently twirled a stray silky lock sometimes, completely unaware of how adorable she looked. Sofia loved how everything about Aimée seemed so delicate -- her pale downy skin, her small dainty hands, her pretty cherub’s face. Sofia loved how Aimée could be so silly and coy and luxuriously lazy when she was having enough fun. Sofia loved how Aimée had let herself go; every elaborate breakfast in bed and midmorning nap and maybe breakfast for lunch in bed again almost every day that plumped her into such a soft, pink, round little dumpling -- it made Sofia whine and moan as she stroked herself in her tiny apartment bedroom. Her own touch on her own skin was never good enough. She loved boys but she wanted Aimée but she knew it could never happen (but). It was still there, all the time. Teasing. And then there was Claire, Aimée’s blond and pretty cousin.
Claire had tried college and dropped out. She whined at her parents when they told her to get up and do something with her life so they just kicked her out of their house. She didn’t wanna go find some boring job so she came to uncle Nicky with her saddest pout and asked if it would be alright to stay with him and Aimée while she looked for work. She usually spent the day sleeping off the night before, but when awake she gushed about nothing with Sofia and teased timid Aimée when she felt like it.
Claire loved making Aimée blush and squirm uncomfortably in her seat, looking away at her petite pigeon-toed feet in their comfy ankle socks and smiling shyly. Sometimes she even got to hear Aimée’s sweet tiny voice, which was so cute that she always couldn’t help just melting in gooey awws and hugging Aimée like a little girl with her favorite stuffed animal. And if Sofia was in the room she would have to melt too, squeezing Aimée tight and nuzzling her cheek, all of them cuddling like that for a second -- Claire using Aimée’s chubby squished-marshmallow arm as a pillow, Sofia savoring Aimée’s warm cushy softness, Aimée flushed bright scarlet in the middle -- then Sofia would look at Claire and they would burst out giggling.
Most of the time they left poor Aimée alone, though, which just meant fussing over her gorgeous soft dark hair with its streaks of light milk chocolate and gold like she was a cute little doll, letting her lie there enjoying the attention and whatever yummy treats Sofia brought her until she was too stuffed and happy not to drift off to sleep. As it started to get late Claire would pour herself off a bed or sofa and browse through Aimée’s enormous closet of expensive, beautiful, mostly untouched clothes to find something to wear for the night, Sofia would be off tidying up while the Fournier’s chef prepared dinner and Aimée would be left to her nap.
Part 2: Princess and Her Sweetie
Every night it seemed he would walk into his beautiful mansion after a long day at the firm to find Aimée dozing on the sofa in a cocoon of warm silk blankets, a tray or two sticky with rings of icing where there must have been rows of delicious pastries sitting within arms reach. He had tried before to tell her to get up and do something with her life but her reply was just always so disarming. She had never screamed at him or thrown a tantrum or even stomped up the stairs; she only nodded, leaving him to watch her rosy cheeks turn white and her soft brown eyes get watery as her pretty head bobbed a feeble “yes, daddy.” The whole thing left him feeling cruel and petty, like he’d just beaten a kitten for nothing more than curling up on his favorite seat. It hurt. So he took it all back with an “oh princess don’t cry,” satisfied that at least his little girl was happy.
Unfortunately for both Nicholas and his little girl, though, Aimée wasn’t really happy. In fact, she was kind of miserable. After only just barely graduating a fancy prep school that required fancy uniforms and taught spoiled kids who had fancy parents, Aimée had been at a loss for how she should get up and do something with her life. She was a terrible writer, artist and musician. College was school again, which was people and deadlines and responsibilities, which scared her. Work was actual work, which scared her even worse. Thoroughly petrified, she ended up spending a year asleep on something cushioned whenever she wasn’t staring at the TV, stuffing her face, masturbating or attempting everything at once. Eventually she turned nineteen and found a year of nothing had softened her into an effete puff of the lightest lavender still less capable of making any decisions having anything to do with a thing so daunting as her own life.
And the other rich girls she had to try to talk to at daddy’s parties were giggling at how she’d let herself go. She woke up exhausted no matter how much she slept. She never really felt like climbing out of bed in the morning and could never really remember why she bothered when she did. The only thing she honestly looked forward to anymore was seeing Sofia, her maid.
Sofia was a cute, friendly Spanish girl whose parents also worked for Aimée’s daddy. She had a cozy pair of heavy-looking tits that made jogging embarrassing, an infectious giggle and an affectionately frustrating secret that was getting harder and harder to keep: she was in love with Aimée.
Sofia loved Aimée’s glossy brunette hair with those cute straight bangs and the way she absently twirled a stray silky lock sometimes, completely unaware of how adorable she looked. Sofia loved how everything about Aimée seemed so delicate -- her pale downy skin, her small dainty hands, her pretty cherub’s face. Sofia loved how Aimée could be so silly and coy and luxuriously lazy when she was having enough fun. Sofia loved how Aimée had let herself go; every elaborate breakfast in bed and midmorning nap and maybe breakfast for lunch in bed again almost every day that plumped her into such a soft, pink, round little dumpling -- it made Sofia whine and moan as she stroked herself in her tiny apartment bedroom. Her own touch on her own skin was never good enough. She loved boys but she wanted Aimée but she knew it could never happen (but). It was still there, all the time. Teasing. And then there was Claire, Aimée’s blond and pretty cousin.
Claire had tried college and dropped out. She whined at her parents when they told her to get up and do something with her life so they just kicked her out of their house. She didn’t wanna go find some boring job so she came to uncle Nicky with her saddest pout and asked if it would be alright to stay with him and Aimée while she looked for work. She usually spent the day sleeping off the night before, but when awake she gushed about nothing with Sofia and teased timid Aimée when she felt like it.
Claire loved making Aimée blush and squirm uncomfortably in her seat, looking away at her petite pigeon-toed feet in their comfy ankle socks and smiling shyly. Sometimes she even got to hear Aimée’s sweet tiny voice, which was so cute that she always couldn’t help just melting in gooey awws and hugging Aimée like a little girl with her favorite stuffed animal. And if Sofia was in the room she would have to melt too, squeezing Aimée tight and nuzzling her cheek, all of them cuddling like that for a second -- Claire using Aimée’s chubby squished-marshmallow arm as a pillow, Sofia savoring Aimée’s warm cushy softness, Aimée flushed bright scarlet in the middle -- then Sofia would look at Claire and they would burst out giggling.
Most of the time they left poor Aimée alone, though, which just meant fussing over her gorgeous soft dark hair with its streaks of light milk chocolate and gold like she was a cute little doll, letting her lie there enjoying the attention and whatever yummy treats Sofia brought her until she was too stuffed and happy not to drift off to sleep. As it started to get late Claire would pour herself off a bed or sofa and browse through Aimée’s enormous closet of expensive, beautiful, mostly untouched clothes to find something to wear for the night, Sofia would be off tidying up while the Fournier’s chef prepared dinner and Aimée would be left to her nap.
Part 2: Princess and Her Sweetie
Aimée’s long pretty lashes fluttered. She yawned and stretched and settled back onto her plush throne of blankets and pillows. She glanced around the room, ran her fingers through her hair to twirl a lock and pouted. Sofia usually brought in a cart of gleaming dome-lidded silver platters and woke her for dinner, but here she was awake with no Sofia and nothing to eat. After sitting there helpless for a little while like a puppy waiting at an empty dish, she looked down at the silk nightie just barely covering her up and sighed. She reluctantly pulled up the nightie and squeezed two handfuls of her buttery tummy, then let it go and watched it jiggle. She lightly bit her bottom lip. She felt like crying.
She never really had any friends at that fancy prep school. People usually just ignored her. Every afternoon she used to sit up in her room by herself and look around at all the wonderful clothes and jewelry and everything daddy had bought her, feeling trapped. Mommy’s medicine cabinet had been so tempting but she was too scared and then mommy was gone and daddy was always working and she didn’t know what to do. She was so useless -- too shy to flirt and have fun like Claire, too spoiled to stop being so unbelievably lazy and too fat to stop eating so much even with a big belly starting to rest on her lap and a big butt wobbling behind her and big jello thighs spread and touching even when she spread her legs to --
Aimée heard herself moan softly and realized she had been kneading her tummy with one hand while the other stroked the wet warmth beneath it. She wondered if she could be a masochist. She was confused but then ohmygod it felt so good and she hadn’t in a long time and she couldn’t help moaning a little louder and all of a sudden there was Sofia in the doorway with dinner.
Aimée was terrified. She pulled down her nightie and blushed deep crimson, then a pathetic little whimper escaped her and she started to cry.
“Oh, sweetie,” Sofia rushed over to soothe poor Aimée, cooing nonsense and holding her close until she finally calmed down.
Aimée sniffed, wiped her eyes and looked away, embarrassed. Sofia gently took Aimée’s cheek in her hand and looked into her lovely doe eyes. They were red and puffy and still glittering with tears. Sofia leaned in and she couldn’t help it. She gave sad sad Aimée a long, sweet, glossy-pink kiss.
Aimée closed her eyes and let a dreamy daze melt her limp lying snugly wrapped in soft Sofia. She managed to kiss back. She felt warm. When she opened her eyes again the V Sofia’s blouse made had opened wider and wider and then disappeared, leaving just a lacy black silk bra to hold Sofia’s caramel breasts in the roundest, cushiest shelf. Aimée stared at the tender darkness where they met, all squished together like that. Aimée watched it relax as Sofia peeled away the bra too, letting her bare breasts loll over her pudgy tummy. Aimée watched them wobble and sway as Sofia ran her hands over Aimée’s hips and tugged at her nightie. Aimée raised her arms so Sofia could lift it over her head. She was naked underneath. She was almost milky-pale from hiding inside so long, glowing soft and pink against creamy olive Sofia. Her doughy body was like scoops of vanilla ice cream just beginning to melt. Her pretty cherub’s face was rosy with wanting and shame that she couldn’t control.
Sofia tossed the nightie on the carpet and fetched the cart she’d left by the door. She cuddled up beside Aimée on the sofa, chose a platter and lifted the lid. It was autumn-colored, savory-scented, gravy-smothered Christmas Eve.
Sofia scooped a spoonful of sweet potatoes and brought it to Aimée’s mouth. Aimée was confused and a little embarrassed again. She opened hesitantly and ate daintily, afraid to spill until some fell on her tits and Sofia paused to kiss it off, got distracted and lapped at Aimée’s small supple breast, coaxing out a soft girly moan. Aimée felt Sofia touching her tummy and Sofia felt warm tender cream, like she was squeezing a marshmallow. Aimée had finished her sweet potatoes and when more didn’t come she found she couldn’t wait.
Sofia couldn’t believe how amazingly, preciously soft Aimée was. She almost expected her fingers to be sticky with gooey sugar when she slowly trailed down to hot wetness that made Aimée smile and close her eyes and let out the most adorable whine, even cuter with her cherry-red cheeks all round and full. Aimée couldn’t help melting even more in all the bright shiny candy happiness and then Sofia was licking and lightly nibbling her stiff nipple and she was reaching for more and more and more spilling on the nice sofa cover and Sofia’s fingers were nimble magic shooting fireworks into black glitter-dusted (ahhhhhhhh…).
There was nothing left on the platter but crumbs sinking in gravy. Aimée suddenly realized that she was really full and it hurt a little, but Sofia was kissing her and massaging her tummy and she was so so cozy and so so tired.
Aimée was about to doze off when she felt something against her lips. Her lashes fluttered -- all she could see was Sofia’s breast. She took it in her mouth and suckled. Sofia cradled Aimée’s head in a hand and held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep.
Sofia cleaned up the sofa and covered Aimée in some blankets. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, looked at her for a moment, smiled and melted in those mushy awws -- she always thought there was nothing so beautiful as a girl happy to be lost in her dreams.
It was noon the next day when Aimée finally stirred. She was curled up on the same sofa, still naked under lots of soft warm blankets. She only remembered just how wonderful silk felt against her bare skin when she self-consciously pulled the blankets up to her chin. She spent a long time snuggling and squirming and playing with herself and sighing happily before she decided she was comfy.
It was a good day. She could see dark gray clouds through the window and hear rain pattering on the roof. She touched her nose -- it was cold. She smiled and nuzzled her pillow -- it was fluffy. She loved being comfy and inside on a rainy day. She thought about lying right where she was for the rest of this one. She thought about Sofia and felt like drawing hearts all over a piece of lined paper. Then she remembered it was Christmas.
Aimée wasn’t happy anymore. Every year on Christmas daddy hosted a party and she had to dress up and have awkward conversations with relatives or daddy’s friends or their kids and sit somewhere trying to pretend she was bored instead of terrified. She didn’t think that ever worked. All of a sudden her stomach was in a knot and her chest was tight and she really just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up noon the next day. She thought about last night and what if daddy found out and she wasn’t exactly sure but it would definitely be bad or what if he didn’t but Sofia got tired of her like everyone else and was too nice to say anything but she would know anyway oh it would be so bad all the time and and.
Aimée heard someone in the hall, remembered she had nothing on under the blankets and panicked in her head. She pretended to be asleep. She pretended she didn’t feel nauseas.
Sofia stood by the door for a second before she came in. Aimée was still where she’d left her, all curled up now. She was such a sweetheart. Sofia padded over and gently rocked her shoulder. Aimée looked up at her and Sofia kissed her forehead.
“I got you a present.” Sofia said.
Aimée sat up, holding the blankets over her breasts and smiling shyly. Sofia handed her her nightie and she pulled it on.
Aimée’s present was in her room, sitting on her bed -- a plain white box with a red bow. There were piles more from daddy and other people, but she only glanced at those.
“When…?” She said, a tiny melody trailing off somewhere nice.
Sofia blushed. “I saw it last night and…I dunno.”
Aimée undid the bow, lifted the top and held up a pretty red dress with white polka dots. She blushed too. She started to take a step, stopped, felt silly and gingerly floated into giving Sofia a bashful kiss on her tip-toes. Then her tummy made a noise.
Sofia smiled and said she’d go get some breakfast.
Aimée watched Sofia go and sighed happy happily. She lie on her bed and looked at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop smiling a nice lazy smile. And all of a sudden it was a good day again. In a little while Sofia brought back cinnamon chocolate chip pancakes sprinkled with brown sugar and syrup drizzles, a tall cold glass of milk, cherry crepes and warm apple pie ala mode and fed it to Aimée cuddled up beside her on her big cozy bed. Aimée couldn’t get over how amazing it felt just lying there with her eyes closed, almost dozing off as she got lost in delicious sweetness and sweet softness. Sofia would give her a taste of pie and ice cream between bites of crepe and fluffy pancake sometimes and when there was only pie left Sofia scooped big spoonfuls seeing how much she stuff in Aimée’s mouth, giggling when Aimée looked up at her helplessly with her cute rosy cheeks so round. And when everything was gone Sofia massaged Aimée’s full belly, snuggling close loving her delicate downy skin and nuzzling and nestling in the waves of her long glossy hair spilling softly-curled and wispy from sleep over the pillows.
Sofia forgot about everything but darling little Aimée. Aimée was too happy to think of anything at all. They came and came and drifted off to sleep melting into each other’s warm cushiness.
Hours later Sofia woke up before Aimée. At first she was scared someone had seen them but then she remembered Mr. Fournier at least had been off somewhere or other all day. He’d be back soon, though. She got up and went to the bathroom and when she got out Aimée was just starting to make her leisurely way out of bed.
Sofia gave sleepy Aimée a goodmorning kiss and helped her get pretty for the party. Hair brushed silky smooth and just enough makeup. Cute shoes. Her present looked even more adorable on her than Sofia thought. They were looking at themselves looking at them in the mirror and Sofia clasped her hands over Aimée’s warm polka-dotted tummy from behind, rested her head on her shoulder and got tickled by her hair. She told Aimée she was beautiful and kissed her blushing cheek.
Downstairs was amazing -- lights and tinsel and mistletoe and red and green and silver and gold and lots and lots of shiny sparkling things around an enormous shiny sparkling tree fawning over heaps of nicely wrapped presents. A row of teddy bears in wool sweaters sitting on the mantle of a fireplace. Aimée was used to it, but Sofia still always stopped for a moment and took it all in before she had to go serve drinks.
Aimée found an empty sofa. She rested her chin on her hand and sighed. She had never been very good at parties. She looked around at pretty girls in cute little dresses flirting with boys and having fun and making soap operas of their lives. She could see them whispering or laughing sometimes as they noticed her and forgot about her. (Claire waved and blew a kiss.) She tried not to feel too bad for herself. It didn’t work.
She gazed longingly over at the buffet table. She really wanted more Christmas really bad. There were all kinds of ridiculous cakes and pies and cookies and puddings and what looked like gingerbread sitting in a spiced cream. And before she knew it she was up and drawn toward it against any protest she could think of. She’d look like such a pig, it would be so embarrassing and she was already so oh my it was gingerbread. Aimée had never used the word “fabulous” in her life, but she fell in love. Icing-topped chocolate cookies that looked like snowflakes, English trifles, pinwheeled sponge cake filled with raspberry cream, butternut squash pudding, charlotte russe with butterscotch sauce, little chocolate cupcakes holding big thimbles of chocolate ganache, pecan pie, vanilla buttercream frosted spice cake, snickerdoodle after snickerdoodles (and and and). Aimée couldn’t help herself. Her tummy hurt and she could feel it pressed against her dress even more than it was, but she decided that felt nice. She’d been wet since she tasted that gingerbread. Standing was pretty uncomfortable. Being around all these people was pretty uncomfortable. She hurried to the bathroom.
Aimée had only just pulled up her dress and sat with her hand down her panties when someone knocked at the door. She whined helplessly.
“Yes?” She called.
“Aimée,” It was Sofia.
Aimée cracked the door and looked through. Sofia slipped in and kissed her. She’d seen Aimée at the buffet table and couldn’t wait either.
Aimée had never been fondled in a bathroom during a party before. She thought it was fun. Sofia did most of the stroking and caressing and kissing and licking, but she helped too. Aimée got to suckle Sofia’s breast again and try playing with her pussy and then Sofia with an unspoken let me show you how this is done basically made love to her -- Aimée hadn’t felt anything so good since earlier that day, especially with her poor full round tummy making everything just weak-kneed ecstasy. When it was over both girls seemed to collapse inside like you collapse on the couch after a long day and let the cushions deal with your soft coddled body.
“I ate so much.” Aimée moaned.
“Your tummy’s really big.” Sofia said.
They sat there enjoying being next to someone for a while and then Aimée asked:
“Sofia?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like my tummy?”
“I love your tummy.”
“I think I like it too.”
“It’s a nice tummy.”
And they were quiet again until Aimée just giggled and said:
“Oh my god we’re so weird.”
