A Slice of Sweetness (Pyra/Mythra TF)

It was a quiet day at home. Too quiet, if you asked Mythra.

The afternoon sun streamed lazily through the windows of the modest home that Pyra, Mythra, and Rex shared when they weren’t off saving the world or getting into some new cosmic mess. The air smelled like simmering vegetables, fresh herbs, and... Pyra’s dangerously enthusiastic use of garlic.

Mythra lay sprawled on the couch, one leg dangling dramatically over the edge, idly flipping through a book she wasn’t actually reading.

In the kitchen, Pyra moved with calm precision, humming a cheerful little tune as she stirred a pot on the stove. Her apron was a little too frilly, her hair a little too perfectly pinned back, and her hands far too competent.

Mythra rolled her eyes. Of course Pyra was good at cooking. Of course she looked like some homemaker goddess while doing it. Meanwhile, Mythra had been banned from even looking at the spice rack unsupervised.

"Ugh. I'm dying of boredom over here," Mythra groaned. "Remind me again why I’m not allowed in the kitchen?"

"Because the last time you tried to make toast, the toaster caught fire," Pyra replied sweetly, not even turning from the stove.

"That was one time," Mythra shot back. "And the toaster looked at me funny."

"You put a fork in it, Mythra."

"It was jammed! I was helping!"

Pyra giggled softly, clearly unconvinced. "Well, you're helping now by keeping me company. That counts, doesn’t it?"

Mythra flopped her arm over her eyes in mock agony. "I didn't sign up to be comic relief in the kitchen, Pyra. I’m a legendary Blade, not your sous chef-slash-living room decoration."

"But you look so pretty lying there doing nothing," Pyra teased.

Before Mythra could deliver a scathing comeback, the doorbell rang.

"Huh?" Pyra blinked, wiping her hands on a towel. "Can you get that? I’ve got soup on the boil."

Mythra sat up, stretching with a groan and a gratuitous crack of her neck. "Sure, might as well do something before I fossilize."

She padded over to the door, cracked it open, and blinked.

Sitting there on the doorstep was a neat little plate with two small, delicate cakes, frosted beautifully, with just a hint of sparkle, and a folded card tucked underneath them.

Mythra picked up the plate and the note, eyebrows raised. "Huh. Free food. Finally, the universe recognizes my greatness."

"What is it?" Pyra called from the kitchen.

"Pastries. Fancy ones. And a card," Mythra replied, kicking the door shut behind her with her heel. She sauntered back into the kitchen, holding the plate like a prize. "Guess who sent 'em?"

She opened the card and read aloud, snorting a little as she did:

“Two cakes to the two sweetest girls I know.
— From Rex.”

Mythra grinned, shaking her head. "Cheesy bastard probably handed them to some Nopon baker on his way out the door and called it a day."

Pyra, however, smiled with a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. "Aww... that’s so sweet of him. He must’ve sent someone to deliver them. That’s really thoughtful."

“Or he’s buttering us up for something. Which, hey, might work, depending on how good these taste.”

Pyra reached out, delicately picking up one of the cakes while Mythra grabbed the other.

“Well, he did say they were for us,” Pyra said. “Would be rude not to try them, right?”

"Yeah, yeah, eat first, guilt later," Mythra said, already taking a generous bite. Her eyes widened almost instantly. "Whoa. Okay. I hate how good this is."

Pyra took a more careful nibble and blinked in surprise. “Mmh... oh my goodness. That’s... that’s amazing.”

Both girls stood there for a moment, slowly chewing, savoring the strange, perfect flavor, rich, warm, and almost too good to be real. It was sweet, but not too sweet. Soft, but with a crisp edge. Like it had been made just for them.

They didn’t notice the tiny shimmer that passed over their skin.
Didn’t notice how their posture subtly shifted.
Didn’t realize how the flavor made them want more.

Mythra licked her lips. “Okay. Yeah. I take it back. If Rex wants something, I’m saying yes. As long as there’s more of this involved.”

Pyra giggled again, completely charmed. “I should really bake him something in return. Maybe organize the…”

Without another word, they each took another bite, savouring the flavor even more.

“Mmh…” Pyra hummed as she turned to glance over her shoulder. “Hey, Mythra. While I’m at the stove, could you start organizing the pantry for me? Rex is always saying he can’t find the rice, and I’ve been meaning to sort it by type.”

Mythra blinked.

“Wait. You want me in the kitchen?” She gave Pyra a skeptical look. “Didn’t you insist on my banishment like, ten minutes ago?”

Pyra smiled sweetly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I trust you with sorting. Just don’t touch anything with a flame.”

Mythra opened her mouth to protest, but paused. Something inside her tugged. Maybe it was the taste of the cake, or maybe the way Pyra had asked. There wasn’t the usual edge in her tone, no teasing challenge, just expectation. Confidence.

And weirdly... that felt kind of nice.

Mythra sighed and rolled her eyes, but she stood up anyway. “Fine, fine. I did say I’d help if this cake turned out good. And it did.”

She made her way to the pantry, cracking her knuckles with a little grunt. As she reached for the top shelf, she noticed her sleeves felt tighter than before. Her arms looked... fuller. More defined. Her delts popped a bit when she stretched. Must’ve been the lighting.

Meanwhile, Pyra had returned to chopping, her movements now somehow even more fluid, even more exact. The apron clung a little tighter to her hips than before, and the motion of her chest with every breath was starting to feel oddly exaggerated. She didn’t seem to notice, too busy multitasking flawlessly between taste testing, seasoning, and organizing recipe notes in her head.

“You know,” Mythra said, pulling out a box of rice, “it’s still kinda weird seeing you like this. Like... separate. Your own person. Not just... me, but on fire.”

“I know what you mean,” Pyra said thoughtfully. “I still get flashes of our internal conversations sometimes. Or memories from me watching you from the inside, like that time you broke that one sword trying to cut a steak.”

Mythra snorted. “It was undercooked! And cheap steel!”

Pyra laughed, soft but sharp. “Well, now we have a proper division of labor. You don’t cook, and I don’t punch tables.”

“I only did that once.”

“You shattered a leg on Rex’s desk.”

“He was annoying me!”

They both laughed, but the rhythm was slightly different now. Pyra’s voice had a melodic warmth, while Mythra’s came with a throaty, carefree ease. She pulled another container from the shelf and blinked again. Her hands looked... huge. Not just strong… but super strong. Her fingers were thicker, her forearms bulging subtly beneath her sleeves.

“Hey, uh…” she murmured, flexing slightly, “You noticing anything weird? I feel kinda…”

“Wonderful?” Pyra supplied, not looking up. She swayed a little as she leaned toward the counter, her hips now broader, her butt rounding out beneath the apron like a pillow being filled with air. “I feel great. Everything’s just... clicking. Organized.”

Mythra glanced back over her shoulder. Pyra’s figure had always been soft, sure, but now it was... exaggerated and plush. Her bust looked like it was testing the seams of her apron in ways Mythra didn’t remember, and her waist had that waspish pinch of a stylized noblewoman.

Strangely enough, Mythra didn’t comment. She could have, but it didn’t feel important. Pyra was being Pyra. She was making things easier.

“Alright,” Mythra said, bending to grab another bag. She didn’t notice how her back now looked like a marble statue of a war goddess in motion, or how her calves had started to swell into defined curves. “Top shelf is rice, middle shelf noodles, bottom shelf everything else?”

“Exactly,” Pyra said, pleased. “You’re catching on fast.”

“Yeah, well,” Mythra said, glancing at her own arm as the bicep visibly tensed, “might as well use these guns for something other than blowing stuff up.”

Pyra smiled to herself as she dropped another pinch of salt into the pot.

“That’s the spirit, dear.” Pyra, still at the stove, took another bite of the sweet cake. It melted on her tongue, delicious and warm…so warm. She sighed with pleasure, not just from the taste, but from how right everything felt. She reached for her notebook to jot down a reminder: “Restock cinnamon before next Tuesday.” She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did.

Her eyes glanced over Mythra’s form in motion, and her smile grew fond.

“Mythra, dear,” she said in a syrupy, velvety voice, “could you clear off the dining table next? Wipe it down too, if you have time.”

Mythra paused mid-reach, blinking. Then nodded.

“Yeah. Sure. Got it.” She set down the container of lentils and headed into the next room.

As she moved, Pyra caught the heavy thump of her footsteps. Mythra’s thighs were thicker than tree trunks now, stuffed into her shorts like they were a size too small. Her abs gleamed faintly with definition, six bulging bricks carved into her torso, framed by swelling lats and increasingly broad shoulders. Her shirt clung to her chest like it was begging for mercy, biceps pulsing larger than her own head now.

She didn't seem to care. If anything, she looked focused. Calm. Even... happy.

Pyra popped another bite of cake into her mouth and returned to stirring the pot, hips swaying gently. The motion was getting harder to ignore, her skirt now flared dramatically around her figure, clinging to hips that had become fantastically wide. Her bust had gone from generous to downright ludicrous, each orb of soft, creamy flesh rounding outward far enough to make chopping herbs on the counter slightly awkward. And yet, she moved with practiced grace, like a woman who had mastered her own enhanced proportions.

From the other room, a loud thud echoed.

Mythra returned, arms full of folded linens from the dining table.

“Done. Uh... also replaced the runner. It had a weird spot.”

Pyra beamed, chest bouncing with delight. “You’re such a good helper, honey.”

Mythra blinked, then smiled sheepishly. “Heh. Just... tell me what to do next, I guess.”

Pyra’s eyes sparkled. “Would you be a darling and sort the books in the living room by genre? Oh! And alphabetize them if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble.” Mythra cracked her knuckles, now the size of apples. “On it.”

As the musclebound blonde marched off again, Pyra felt a swell of warmth in her chest. She licked a bit of frosting from her finger and let her thoughts drift. Her home was shaping up so nicely. The soup would be done in exactly eleven minutes, Rex’s favorite spoon was already laid out, and Mythra… sweet, helpful Mythra… was finally embracing her role as the home’s dependable powerhouse.

Pyra took another bite. And then another.

She turned and reached up to grab a plate from a high shelf, humming as her bust pressed up against her own chin, jiggling luxuriously. Her hips brushed the counter behind her. It took conscious effort not to knock things over just by turning.

And yet, she didn’t mind. If anything, she adored it. A fuller figure meant more warmth. More softness. More to offer her husband when he came home. Her darling, hard-working Rex...

“Mythra, love?” she called sweetly.

A loud thunk followed by a bookshelf sliding slightly answered.

“Yeah?” came the reply, deeper than before—her voice still hers, but now wrapped in muscle and a heavy, eager energy.

“Would you mind moving the couch so we can take a peek underneath? Rex always loses his comb down there.” Pyra asked, her chest almost making a comical *BAWOMPF* sounds as she turned.

“Sure,” came the casual reply, already deeper than before. Then a pause. “Wait, you mean move it move it? Or like, just check under? Meh, I’ll just hrrrrrgg…!!!”

Pyra opened her mouth to clarify, but too late.

With a little grunt of effort, and perhaps some confusion, Mythra bent her legs, wrapped her arms around the middle of the heavy sofa, and lifted.

And kept lifting.

Muscles surged under her skin like molten steel. Her shoulders rounded out into inhumanly wide slabs, her arms doubled in size in a matter of seconds. Veins pulsed along her biceps as her core locked in, her abs tightening into an armor-like block of power. The room filled with the creaking of strained upholstery, not from the couch, but from her shirt, which was now hanging on by sheer willpower alone.

The couch rose higher. What had started as a difficult lift suddenly felt... easy. Like her body had simply decided it wasn’t going to be challenged by physics anymore.

“Huh.” Mythra blinked. “ I did this more on a whim than anything… Didn’t expect this to be so… liftable.”

She turned her head, strands of her long blonde hair falling around her titanic traps. “Pyra? What do you want me to do with this thing?”

But Pyra wasn’t answering.

She stood motionless, cake still in hand, eyes glassy with devotion. A pink flush ran across her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as the words “for Rex” echoed in her mind again and again like a mantra. Her thoughts blurred… no, melted… into a gooey dream of folded laundry, hot dinners, back rubs, bathwater at the perfect temperature. She saw Rex coming home, tired and dirty, and her welcoming him with open arms and endless curves.

Her breasts surged again, jiggling violently as her chest inflated another few cup sizes, like her devotion needed space to manifest. Her butt rippled outward, each cheek taking on such exaggerated volume that it bounced gently even as she stood still. Her entire body felt soft and ripe and made to please.

It was as if pure, unfiltered housewife energy had blasted through her bloodstream.

“Pyra?” Mythra asked again, still holding the couch like it weighed nothing, blinking slowly. “You, uh... alright there?”

Pyra gasped softly as she snapped back to herself, blinking rapidly as if waking from a dream. “Oh! Oh my~ Yes, sorry, darling. I just... zoned out for a moment.”

She brushed her hands down her hips—hips that now made her look like some divine fertility statue wrapped in velvet and lace.

“Please, dear, just move it a little to the right. Yes, there, perfect.” Her voice was smooth again, but now stronger, almost regal in its warmth.

Mythra set the couch down with surprising gentleness, the floorboards groaning slightly beneath her now-giant frame.

“Done. That good?” she asked, smiling proudly.

Pyra nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Perfect, sweetie. Just perfect.”

She clapped her hands softly, her massive chest wobbling with the motion. “You know, this is actually a wonderful opportunity. The house could use a proper deep clean before Rex gets home.”

Mythra’s grin widened, her pecs flexing unconsciously. “I’m all for it. Just tell me what to do.”

Pyra’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh, I will.”

And with that, the two girls set to work, one gliding from room to room like the matron of a grand estate, hips swaying like ocean waves; the other stomping through hallways like a lovingly obedient juggernaut, dusting shelves with one hand and moving furniture with the other.

Together, they made the perfect team.

And the house, their house, was going to be flawless for Rex.

—

About two hours later, the front door clicked open.

“Hey, I’m back!” Rex called out, stepping inside and kicking off his boots. “Hope I’m not too late! There was some Nopon market delay, and…”

He didn’t get to finish.

Because in the very next instant, a blur of crimson, warmth, and softness threw itself into his arms.

“Rex~! My dearest~!” Pyra cooed, voice sultry and saccharine all at once.

She hugged him tight… too tight… her enormous, motherly breasts completely engulfing his face. His legs wobbled under the sheer volume of her affection. Her curves had become unreal, cartoonish in proportion, yet she carried herself with the poise of a divine matron. Her hips pressed into his, her arms locking behind his back like satin-covered vices.

“You’re finally home, darling~!” she purred into his ear, her every word dripping with adoration. “We missed you so much... I made your favorite. The soup's warm, bread’s fresh, and I fluffed your pillow just the way you like it.”

She leaned back just enough for him to breathe, her glowing eyes drinking him in.

“I want you to sit down, eat well, and let your wives take care of everything, my sweet, hardworking man~”

Before Rex could respond, a heavy stomp echoed from the living room.

“Hey!” came Mythra’s voice, still sharp, but joyful. “Rex!”

She emerged like a force of nature, clad in a too-tight tank top that clung to her titanic upper body like it was stitched on in a hurry. Her legs were thicker than most tree trunks, her arms bursting with dense muscle, and her abs looked like they were carved into her with a hammer and chisel. She towered over both of them now, smiling with dumb pride.

“I helped clean the whole place!” she announced, flexing slightly without realizing it. “Sorted the books, moved the couch, scrubbed the tile. Everything’s, like, super cozy now.”

Then she added with a hopeful glint in her eyes:

“But if you want me to do more... or something else... just say it, and I’ll do it. Anything you want, Rex.”

Rex just stood there, blinking slowly as his brain fought to process the sheer scale of what he was seeing.

Pyra looked like a loving, overflowing fertility goddess dipped in domestic bliss.

Mythra looked like a seven-foot-tall bodybuilder who could deadlift a Titan but only wanted his approval.

His eyes flicked from Pyra’s towering bust, now basically a weapon, to Mythra’s unreal biceps, which were actual weapons, then back to Pyra’s hips, which might’ve just bumped into both walls at once.

“…Damn,” he whispered under his breath.
“Tora’s invention sure worked a lot better than he said it would.”

Before either of them could hear his stunned muttering, Pyra had already taken his hand in hers, warm, soft, strong. She pressed it lovingly into her hip.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you fed.”

“Yeah!” Mythra chimed in from behind. “And if you need a massage after dinner, I got the strength and the hands.”

Rex didn’t resist.

The two transformed women clung to him as he made his way into the kitchen, one soft and ripe like a harvest feast, the other firm and towering like a monument to muscle-bound devotion. Pyra guided him lovingly. Mythra shadowed him protectively.

And together, they closed the door behind them.

—

What the heck was in that pie?!?