Honoka: Marie’s Mission - 02
Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
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Helena sends Marie Rose to befriend Honoka and pump her for information. Marie learns the easiest way to earn Honoka’s affection and gets a little too into it.
Contains: Breast Expansion as Weight Gain, Stuffing
These characters belong to Team Ninja’s Dead or Alive franchise.
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Honoka - Marie’s Mission
II
Lady Helena had entrusted Marie Rose with one of her credit cards, the metal kind that seemed to soak up light like a black hole. And speaking of gravity wells, Honoka’s appetite had exceeded Marie’s harshest expectations. Their first lunch together had stretched well into the afternoon, and they’d only left the restaurant when the staff began hiding their glares so intently that they may as well have shoved the two women out the door.
It hadn’t been a feeding frenzy. For all of Honoka’s provincial lack of decorum, she hadn’t gone so far as to shovel food into her maw like a savage beast. She had, however, ordered a massive appetizer sampler “to share” and two family-sized pasta entrees. She’d hesitated demurely—the girl had some manners, it seemed—but it’d been laughably easy for Marie Rose to break that tissue-thin mask of self-restraint. A simple “go ahead, it’s on me” had sent Honoka full steam ahead down the tracks of unchecked indulgence.
Marie’s own meal was a side salad and a tiny filet of grilled salmon. Worried the other girl would balk at the vast difference in their lunch orders, she’d queued up several excuses that seemed reasonable: “I had a big breakfast,” “I never eat much,” even “I’m a lot smaller than you are.” She dismissed that last one almost immediately. Drawing attention to their few differences in their sizes—Marie’s tiny waist or Honoka’s whopping bosom—could all too easily be taken as an insult. But Honoka hadn’t even noticed. Or if she had, she kept her observations to herself. She wasn’t shy with the appetizers, seeming unbothered that Marie never touched them. When her pasta arrived, she ate with methodical, precise movements, swirling and spearing with her fork. The neatness was a relief after her performance with the cream puff, but the entrees were huge, and with Honoka’s mouth otherwise occupied, Marie was left to carry both sides of the conversation.
When Honoka finally finished her main course—courses—sopping up sauce with a chunk of bread, Marie Rose got a front-row seat to a phenomenon she’d previously seen only from afar. While Honoka’s body was softer than hers, even Marie wouldn’t call her plump, let alone fat. But the little eating machine had inhaled enough food to feed Marie Rose for two weeks. Maybe one, if she ate all the reheated pasta she could stomach three times a day. Honoka’s middle was domed and tight like an expectant mother, but held nothing but carbs and sauce. Marie watched entranced as the girl gave her rounded belly a soft pat, covered a cutesy burp with her napkin, and the bloat melted away. Well, it didn’t vanish—all that mass had to go somewhere—but Honoka somehow turned a mountain of pasta into another centimeter on her bust. With no effort at all. In a matter of seconds. Right in front of her eyes.
Mind whirling with questions and denials, Marie Rose tagged the observation as magic and filed it beside Lady Helena’s business in the drawer of things she wasn’t smart enough to comprehend. It was further evidence that everything Honoka ate went to her boobs, that’s all. Even if it did a bit faster than should be possible. If this airhead ever starts stressing about her weight, I can just say bigger boobs can’t be a bad thing.
Once they were together, Marie’s earlier nervousness melted away. Feigned or not, Honoka’s carefree vibe was infectious. They talked about the island, the weather, the other guests, shops they’d visited, and views the other woman just had to see. Her pasta was gone, but Honoka grazed on the remaining appetizers while they chatted. When the dessert menu arrived and Honoka couldn’t decide, Marie suggested getting all three and splitting them. She tasted the tiniest spoonful of each, letting Honoka inhale the rest.
After dessert, they talked and laughed, oblivious of the time. Whenever Honoka’s eyes began to dart longingly at empty plates or the bare table, Marie hailed their server to order another appetizer or side. Eventually, she considered placing the next order as soon as the last one arrived to keep the snack train rolling. By then, however, it was clear that they’d worn out their welcome.
As the pair stepped back into the late afternoon sun, Honoka’s stomach was flat, and her new bikini top was snug. It wasn’t straining—her fleshy lobes weren’t spilling out of it or anything—but another meal like that would test its limits, if it survived at all. Marie Rose was half tempted to invite the girl to dinner. They’d only be a little earlier than usual; she could say she wanted to beat the rush. It wasn’t like she wanted to watch Honoka eat, watch her feed those gross boobs even fatter; she was hesitant to let the suspicious girl out of her sight, that’s all. Of course, they’d barely just met. No matter how well they got along—or how well she’d convinced Honoka that they got along—she couldn’t keep the girl glued to her hip.
“That was fun,” Marie said with a smile she didn’t have to force.
“Thanks so much for lunch!” Honoka beamed. “It was all so tasty…”
“I should probably get going.”
“Oh, alright.”
There was a moment between those two words when Honoka almost sounded disappointed. It made Marie second-guess her decision. Would the greedy girl have even batted an eye at back-to-back meal invitations? Could she simply lead Honoka from one cafe to the next, stuffing food into her stupid, smiling face? Keep her eating and talking and eating and talking until she spilled all her secrets? Everything she knew about MIST? All the information Lady Helena needed? So much good intel that she’d shower her loyal servant with praise?
Marie Rose waved the daydream away. She couldn’t let herself get greedy; she’d just witnessed the consequences of reckless gluttony firsthand. This mission was a marathon, not a sprint.
“We should hang out again sometime.”
Somehow, Honoka turned that blinding smile up another notch. “For sure!”
***
Despite Marie Rose’s intention to slowly worm her way into Honoka’s trust, they were all but inseparable within two weeks. Most mornings, Marie could find Honoka floating in the pool or lounging in the sun, depending on whether her gift box of cream puffs was present. A simple drink order started the day—the sweetest, fruitiest, most sugary punch or juice for Honoka and simple tea or sparkling water for herself. If Honoka had games or activities planned, Marie tagged along. If the day was open, Marie made suggestions.
Volleyball was the main event, of course, but as the weeks progressed, Honoka did more sitting and cheering than playing; watching from the shade with plates of small sandwiches and cakes. Marie sparred and competed with the other guests at first, eventually turning down their challenges to draw less attention to Honoka’s dwindling agility.
Pool Hopping lasted a bit longer. Compared to all the Amazons on the island, Honoka was no match for Marie Rose as she launched her petite figure from one float to the next. She made sure to let Honoka win a few times, pausing on floats or “accidentally” falling off, but the other girl simply laughed when her increasingly top-heavy center of gravity carried her into the water. As long as her floating basket of fruit and cheese hadn’t spilled, Honoka seemed unbothered by losing.
Marie Rose watched Honoka attempt Rock Climbing exactly one time. Barely a week into Marie’s campaign to indulge her to distraction, the pink-haired glutton’s fat boobs were already getting in the way. Either her climbing stance was an awkward, arched-back thing, or she was grinding against the stone wall, every movement threatening to free her overworked bikini top. By the time she took Marie’s hand at the peak, nearly hauling the forty-kilo blonde off the ledge, Honoka was dripping with sweat and panting through her grin. It took several liters of milkshake for her to “recover” from the exertion.
The casino games were safer, especially when they were gambling with Lady Helena’s money. Marie Rose led Honoka from table to table, egging her on at Blackjack and Roulette while the drinks and snacks flowed. The hard part was keeping her interested in indoor activities while the sun was shining. There were just as many yummy treats nearby when they hung out outside, after all.
Honoka was about as good at Butt Battles as she was at Pool Hopping. While she had enough of a mass advantage to send Marie Rose sailing into the water, her weighty upper half often carried her over as well. After a week of bouts that all ended in draws, the game became another spectator sport and snacking excuse.
No matter how many drinks, desserts, charcuterie, or crudité accompanied their games and activities, Honoka never turned down a proper meal. She could devour an entire platter of sliders while watching Volleyball and be ready for full-size burgers afterward. Trays of brownie bites, safely dry from the Pool Hopping races or Butt Battles, were no reason to skip afternoon tea with mounds of full-size pastries. No amount of cocktail shrimp in the casino could spoil Honoka’s appetite for buckets of crab at dinner.
Marie Rose sat across from Honoka in a banquette tucked into the back corner of a seafood restaurant. She’d found Venus Island’s staff to be more tolerant of their antics if they stayed in low-traffic areas. It was two months into her mission, and Honoka’s boobs had more than doubled in size. They rested on the table—they wouldn’t fit between it and her lap—anchored in place as the girl reached around them for her lemon soda and another plate of fried fish. The obese lobes loomed between them like hills. If Marie slouched, she couldn’t see all of Honoka’s face. She’d lost track of how many plates the little piggy had cleaned, though she was certain their servers hadn’t.
As always, Marie Rose chatted while Honoka’s mouth was full. She talked about the activities they’d watched and gossiped about the other guests. Sometimes, she sat quietly while the other woman ate. They were together most of the day, every day, and she eventually ran out of things to say. Honoka didn’t hesitate to gorge herself with abandon while Marie ate nothing, so they’d grown comfortable with silence. Meals became zen-like experiences for Marie: no deadlines, no expectations, nothing to say, not a thought in her head apart from what Honoka should eat next.
Honoka scraped the last bits of fish into her mouth and leaned back with a sigh and an adorable burp. Marie Rose was in a peaceful trance, waiting to wave down their server. She knew what was coming, and afterward, Honoka would be ready for more.
The mountains between them pulsed. Though it was inaudible in the noisy restaurant, Marie could sense the rumbling as Honoka’s body turned tuna into tit. The change had gotten more subtle as her melons had fattened; they swelled no more than a millimeter or two closer to Marie’s side of the table. Even that was too much, it seemed, for the stitching on Honoka’s ridiculous bikini.
The triangles of fabric that would have covered Marie’s entire chest were a micro-kini on Honoka; their strings running over and around her like the rigging on a tall ship. But the string over her left shoulder had decided it couldn’t hold another plate of fish. It snapped somewhere behind Honoka’s back, sliding to hang from the triangle like a lonely spaghetti noodle.
“Oh, no…”
Early in her project, Marie had seen Honoka react to these swimsuit malfunctions with shock, annoyance, or even frustration. But they’d become weekly events or more, and she merely sounded resigned. She pawed at her overfed orbs, trying to see their fronts.
“The other strings are fine,” Marie said. She reached a finger to one of the strings in question, resisting the urge to pluck it for two reasons. First, it was pulled taut as a guitar string, and a single touch could start an avalanche. And second, there was nowhere she could touch the strings without also touching boob, unless she walked around to Honoka’s sides where the strings hovered like tent ropes.
“Maybe I should cut back…”
Marie Rose was so stunned she almost laughed. Had this girl truly gorged herself through an entire alphabet of bra sizes before wondering if she was overdoing it? She could probably keep Honoka nearby just as much by helping her reduce: track her meals, count her calories, get her away from dessert tables and into the lap pool. It sounded like a lot of work.
She waved off Honoka’s concern. “It’s fine; we’re growing girls. Let’s go to the shops and find you a better swimsuit.”
Never mind that Honoka was growing out instead of up, and Marie wasn’t growing at all; the busty girl grinned, thoroughly placated. “After we go shopping, we could get some ice cream… maybe?”
“Absolutely.”