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Millicent didn't sleep in a bed that night, instead curled in a broom closet a few feet from the Gryffindor's common room. The next day, she met Hermione in the Great Hall.
"Do you mind if I sit with you?" Millicent asked brightly, approaching Hermione at the Gryffindor table. She'd charmed away the harsh circles under her eyes, and otherwise she was faking it. She hadn't felt so profoundly miserable since Solome got married.
"Of course," Hermione said absently, waving Millicent towards a seat, and then turning a page, all without looking up. "Just don't expect me to entertain you. I'm reading."
Millicent nodded, and proceeded to load up her plate and get out her own book. In the pain of the recent situation, she'd dropped Hermione's assigned reading in favor of one of her favorite novels. It was comforting to go over the well-worn pages of a story she'd treasured since she was a little girl.
And while she read, she ate. Hermione did, too, of course, but she lacked the purposefulness that Millicent had in her approach to food. Hermione ate in an absent-minded way, stuffing her face with every page she turned, eating her delicate finger-sized scones with as little thought and attention as she was paying Millicent. Instead, her entire mind focused on her book.
Millicent, for her part, tried to keep her attention to her book, but the words glazed over as her eyes moved over the familiar dialogue and prose. She found her eyes throwing themselves helplessly on what she needed to sate her hunger.
She was, as it happened, powerfully hungry, and she wasn't sure if she could quite get away with eating as much as she desperately wanted to shove down her throat.
She tried her best to disguise how much she was eating by taking little helpings, then, when no one seemed to be looking in her direction, she'd get herself another slice of bacon, whisking it out of the pan with her bare fingers and sliding it into her mouth before anyone could notice. Then she'd do the same thing with the hard-boiled eggs. The boiled kidneys. The kippers on rye. The palm-sized slices of black sausage.
Yes, she was becoming incredibly good at creatively circumventing notice, the more she did it. It practically became a game. How many times could she sneak another bit of sausage or slice of toast before someone would cast their eyes in her direction?
She ate, and as she ate, she also paid attention to Hermione. The other girl was wearing a cozy, if frumpy, jumper. It was particularly irritating because of how big it was on Hermione's plump frame - it disguised the girl's growing gut in a frustrating way. It seemed at moments to accentuate her assets, and conceal them.
Though then again, perhaps Millicent should have worn a jumper herself. Her button-down was protesting against the amount of food she was hiding into her burgeoning tum, and while her tum was pleased to accommodate the quantity of food Millicent was swallowing, the pressed cotton was not nearly so forgiving.
Yes, she was starting to feel her button-down groan against her gut, particularly at the belly area. Millicent ran her hand down her front and, covertly, undid the bottommost buttons, leaving her flab exposed and vulnerable, hanging over her trousers. It permitted her tum to ooze out, like a bit of sausage being squeezed out of its casing.
It was oddly hot.
She couldn't remember ever being so big in her life. It occurred to her that she was on a doomed path to become the biggest, fattest Slytherin woman in recent history. She'd forever be thought of as the fat one of her cohort. She was probably going to surpass Slughorn's size within the next ten years, if not sooner.
This thought should have made her stop eating, or at least view herself with some amount of circumspection, but today, Millicent had lost all caution. She ate with wild abandon, while pretending she was only pecking at her food.
Once in a while, she glanced at Hermione. The other girl was clearly tuned out, and not paying any attention whatsoever. However, she watched with growing lust as the other girl finally started to show some signs of rounding out. Hermione had to readjust at one point, since the weight of her tum was starting to need a bit more support, and she spread her legs wide and leaned forward, extending her chest towards the table and offering the space between her legs to her plump, increasingly distended belly. Hermione rested her breasts on the table - and juicy though they were, they were nothing compared to her massive arse, which was full and succulent, and it seemed to be growing wider with every bite Hermione ate, though Millicent knew this was a mere illusion.
To watch Hermione eat made Millicent even hungrier, in many ways. She longed to seize Hermione, forcefully removing the girl from her book, and tie the girl to the dining hall bench, stripping her to her panties and knotting her with cord upon cord of rope. If Millicent had known about Jonathan Swift, she'd have made a comparison in this fantasy to Gulliver with the Lilliputians, but she didn't have that frame of reference yet.
Then, in this position, Millicent longed to stuff the girl with even more sweets. Make her really feel and taste what she was eating. Swallow every swallow with an intentionality that the girl wasn't indulging in. Hermione was so much a pragmatist, she never seemed to pay attention to what was really important - living, and breathing, with every moment she experienced.
Yes, Millicent realized she was having some rather dark thoughts indeed. She wanted to feed Hermione despite the girl's protests. She wanted to force feed Hermione, and keep her for a fat little pet. And she wanted Hermione to like it, despite all the odds.
These thoughts generated even more hunger, and Millicent found herself overeating to an extent she couldn't even remember herself achieving before. Not only was she eating past the point she was full, she was continuing to stuff herself, bite after bite after bite.
But soon Millicent's own near-endless gluttony seemed to catch up with her. She suddenly realized her belly had become far over-full, and she began to feel a little sick. She covertly burped into a napkin, and felt immediately better, enough to pour herself a piping hot mug of tea, with an excessive amount of sugar in it, and she sipped it, one hand landing on top of the protruding mass her belly created.
It was only then that Hermione closed her book with a sigh and turned towards her. And then Hermione's eyes widened.
Millicent was practically panting, sipping her tea and trying to keep another belch from coming from her throat.
"What have you done with yourself?" Hermione asked, and she leaned towards Millicent, her eyes somewhat worried, but there was also something else in them - a dark, mysterious burning desire.
She was turned on, Millicent realized, to see Millicent stuffed nearly to the point where she couldn't speak.
What version of heaven had she stumbled into? A confusing one indeed, where her house had turned against her, and Hermione Granger was attracted to the fact that she'd stuffed herself like a Christmas goose ready to roast.
"I... can you help me?" gasped Millicent, and she rubbed the top of her overstuffed tum gently.
"Of course," breathed Hermione, and she proceeded to touch and press against Millicent's gloriously full stomach.
Millicent closed her eyes at the exhilarating feeling of being poked, prodded, admired, and also a little bit chastised.
For Hermione was actually scolding her in a way that was utterly hot. Was scolding hot? Millicent had never guessed it could be.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Hermione asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. "You just couldn't stop eating, could you?"
Millicent shook her head, and Hermione's eyes smoldered with sensuality.
"Shame, shame," tsked Hermione, and she laid her head down on Millicent's tum. The feeling of Hermione's ear against her in that too-tight sensitive place made Millicent nearly lose her panties right then and there. Then Hermione withdrew her face from where it softly squished into Millicent's belly, and she had an impish glint in her eye.
Millicent simply waited, not confident in her ability to speak right now.
"Just checking to make sure I hadn't got you in the family way, somehow," Hermione said after some deliberation. "You ate yourself to look absolutely preggers, Millicent."
Aside from the fact that it was amusing to hear Hermione Granger say the word 'preggers,' Millicent actually was worried now about the state of her panties. They'd need a thorough cleaning, if she ever found them again once she threw them off and fucked herself with her hairbrush handle until she was senseless.
"I suppose," Millicent said, "I just couldn't stop."
"You're such a pig," Hermione said, and she heaved herself up. "Come on now. I think there's some things we need to take care of before class."
"I concur," Millicent said, and she also painfully stood. "Broom closet?"
Hermione smirked. "If you fit."
If Millicent had been the fainting sort, that would have surely done her in.
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