[RP] Governor Spitfire

 

 

~~~~~

 

 

Valiant swayed slightly while he held his footing against the wind buffeting the helicopter, and checked himself in the reflection of the window as it circled around for a landing. This was his chance to finally rekindle an old fire, ironically with Spitfire. They had met before the war, shared a janitors closet for passionate cases of pent up sexual tension during the war, but unfortunately post-war politics had broken them apart. The complexities of Equestrian draw-down and merging it’s armed force into NATO had been difficult, but Valiant had navigated them all the same.

 

His rank these days was Field Martial, but in practical reality he was all but retired and left as a free advisor to the government, paid well and left to do what he saw fit. Today “what he saw fit” was a simple thing, visiting Spitfire.

 

The mare had lucked out. As an accomplished ace and a national war hero, but without any ground experience that might upset the local populace, she was chosen to be the governor of Sicily, and had been for six years now. It had been an easy thing, all she had to do was maintain law and order for as long as the allied nations decided the occupation would last.

 

When the helicopter arrived, Valiant stepped out of the bulbous and awkward looking aircraft with his usual confidence. A white dress uniform clung tightly to him, and his chest was filled with ribbons. The air force officer on the dirt saluted, and Valiant squinted his eyes as he looked towards the vineyard estate that Spitfire’s command had been based out of. Spitfire, however, wasn’t there. It was slightly awkward, and Valiant looked to his honour guard.

 

“She’ll… be along, I’m sure… sir,” he coughed.

 

Spitfire's breath came in sharp pants as she willed her body forward at a pace she would call a 'determined lumber.' Curse her insatiable appetite...this was the first opportunity she'd had in *years* to see that old flame of hers and she was already LATE! Spitfire hated being late! She hated leaving the table unsatiated worse, however.

 

Turning down the final hallway she couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk from inching across her fattened features. The last time she and Valiant had seen each other, she was a very different-looking pony. She absolutely could not wait to see the inevitable shock he would be in at the sight of her.

 

Since taking over the Governorship of Sicily, life had been *good* to Spitfire. Initially, she had thrown herself into the job, immediately gathering up all available resources and allocating them out to the parts of the city-state that needed them most. She brought relief swiftly and efficiently, giving the war-weary citizens much of what they needed in a remarkably short amount of time. Having earned the respect of the people, peacetime quickly settled in, and with it a renewed era of prosperity. The production of the surrounding farmlands exploded under her watchful stewardship, providing a previously-unknown bounty of food and wine.

 

With how grateful the people were for their new leader and the renewed quality of life she brought about, it was only natural that the excess find its way to her in the form of gifts and tributes of all manner. And while at first Spitfire had been unsure of what to do with it all, the solution came to her rather quickly: simply consume all that she wanted...and then consume some more. Her figure swelled rapidly with extra pounds as she started eating more and more each day, and got lazier and lazier as her responsibilities dwindled.

 

Her stomach was larger than a beachball, and strained her XXL suit-jacket to its very last button. Beneath her heaving gut, her pants were undone, the two flaps having no hope of coming together. Fortunately, no one would ever be able to see it! Her breasts sat full and round on her chest, jutting out like a shelf that was supported by the upper swell of her huge belly. Her ass was wide and supple, her thighs thick and meaty, and her cheeks cherubic, with a noticeable double chin and what looked like a third on the way. Spitfire's weight had more than tripled since the war, and she couldn't be any more thrilled about it.

 

Her growing body turned out to be a massive turn-on for her as she fully gave in to her new gluttonous and hedonistic lifestyle. Watching the number on the scale climb higher and higher was exhilarating. So was outgrowing her clothes on what felt like a monthly basis. Giddy in anticipation, Spitfire nodded to the guards as she finally reached the airfield where she was to meet Valiant, a pair of guards saluting sharply as she went past. She was too out of breath to bother responding.

 

Spitfire had indeed become, in basic terms, morbidly obese. The amount she ate daily was calculated by her own staff officers to be equal to literally everyone else that worked in the building combined, and she was an almost comically oversized shadow of what she used to be. It would be a disgrace to the uniform- if it wasn’t for Spitfire’s history. She was a war hero, and personally responsible for saving an entire front from falling with her gallant efforts in an aircraft. Overeating herself fat was something people were more than willing to allow.

 

Plus, of course, the stakes were pretty low. Both her and Valiant were basically in the same position: They were left to do what they pleased.

 

Valiant saw her approaching, and turned to see her emerge from a hedge. He stared, outright, gaping with an open mouth while the guard at the helicopter blushed slightly and kept a steely stare forward. Valiant’s eyes were all over Spitfire, admiring at first- of course, this was Valiant- her heels, and then slowly working up her fat legs, lingering on her belly, and staring openly at her fat chest. She jiggled with every movement, and between her huffing and puffing she even belched.

 

“Holy shit,” Valiant exclaimed openly. “I heard you had gotten big but I figured they meant you know, chubby- like you used to be. You look like you ate yourself twice over… every day for the last four years,” Valiant gawked, and swallowed before taking a solid breath and trying not to drool too much.

 

“I take it Sicily has been good then,” Valiant soon added, and crossed his arms as he settled into bemused leering towards Spitfire. “God, I even brought a gift but I’m afraid you’ll explode if I give it to you now.”

 

Spitfire accepted his ribbing without rebuttal while she steadily closed the distance between them, finally coming to a rest before him and panting for breath, her meaty fists planted on her wide hips. "Yeah...you could say Sicily's been g*uuuUUUUURRRRPP!!*—good." Spitfire watched Valiant's face with glee as his eyes never seemed to stop in one place, too desperate to take in her bountiful new form but unable to do it all at once. "But don't be silly, Val...I couldn't possibly explode, no matter how much you brought. Have you *seen* this gut? It can handle anything and everything that's thrown at it, just like it has for the past few years..." she trailed off thoughtfully, lost in her memories of epic feasts long past.

 

"But enough pleasantries. Come, let us go inside...my knees are killing me," Spitfire says gruffly before turning and starting to waddle back the way she came, not bothering to check over her shoulder to see if he was following. She knew he would follow. There's no way he could resist.

 

Valiant sighed softly, “Spitfire, I planned on coming here to have some fun with you, but seeing you like this… I’m thinking maybe I should go looking for a nice ring to put on a fat finger,” he noted, and his ears wiggled at Spitfire’s comment about ‘sore knees’.

 

If Spitfire knew anything, she knew he loved her body now as much- if not more- than she did. Big girls had always been his thing, and every subtle thing that reinforced how big she was just turned him on even more. Valiant was indeed soon following, and stole the services of that poor guard who he directed ahead of Spitfire.

 

In the guards hands was Valiant’s gift, and Valiant came to Spitfire’s side when it was presented. It was a cake, on a silver platter, and it was something she’d recognize. A sinful Cloudsdale specialty, it was a chocolate base with thick whipped cream coating and sprinkles. What made it special, however, was that it was infused slightly with magic. These cakes were a rare and expensive delicacy, and however thick and rich it looked- it was even more so. A common game was seeing how far one could get into one without outright throwing up.

 

Most didn’t get very far, and Valiant knew that it was Spitfire’s favourite. There was not a more potent and compact way to get butter and sugar into ones gut known to exist.

 

“Tempting isn’t it?” Valiant noted, and slapped his hand to Spitfire’s rounded ass. “Was gonna show you later, but I’ve got a challenge for you. Think you can tank that in one go, big girl? Three years ago you probably would’ve died trying.”

 

Spitfire's eyes absolutely lit up upon sight of the epic confectionery. "Oh, Valiant...you *shouldn't* have..." she practically purred, her voice dripping with lust and desire. Her words might have said 'no,' but everything else screamed 'YES!' As if to voice its approval, her massive gut loosed a gleeful-sounding gurgle, eagerly anticipating the addition of the treat to its cavernous, glunking depths. Considering his challenge, Spitfire mused that since she hadn't stuffed herself as completely as she normally would at breakfast, on account of needing to still be mobile to meet him at the airfield, she did suppose that she could go for a bit of a snack at the moment.

 

Her eyes finally roved up to meet his, and there was a fiery determination like none other glinting in their depths. "You, me, cake, dining room, now," she huffed out between heaving breaths, her overfed body somehow able to find the willingness to move forward even faster, all in eager anticipation of the absolute truckload of calories waiting to add themselves to her gloriously copious form.

 

Valiant soon took Spitfire’s soft hand, and squeezed it firmly as he let her lead. Mostly because he had no idea where they were going. “You always were a glutton Spitfire, but… well I’m not sure if you’ve got good self control and you want to be this big, or you’ve fallen off the wagon. Either way though, I like it,” he commented, and had to step back once they got to the front door.

 

Spitfire’s knees outright creaked and Valiant could tell it was painful getting herself up the stairs and through the door, but he could also feel somehow like that turned her on just as much as it did him. She was too big for her own good and her capacious gut had become redoubled over time. So Valiant soon followed her in, “Remember when you used to try and beat your yearly pie eating record? Celestia above just imagine you now, bending that bench and doubling it.”

 

The dining room wasn’t far, and Valiant examined some of the luxurious house while they walked. Spitfire had a fine estate here, and the table was just as luxurious as the rest. Internally, Spitfire’s stomach- enabled beyond a parody of its former appetite- rumbled and filled her with a near- desperate, overpowering, and almost frightening need to eat. The cake was set down for Spitfire, and both guard and Valiant watched her lumber her way in.

 

Valiant, for now, didn’t act. He looked to Spitfire expectantly, curiously. Even for a woman of her size, he figured, that was going to be a challenge. The cake itself might have looked only like a moderately challenging cake, perhaps appropriate for a birthday, but it packed ten times that in calories and rich sugars.

 

Lumbering steadily across the room towards her ridiculously over-sized and overly ornate dining table, Spitfire finally reached her seat, which was in all honesty more of a bench that could seat four normal ponies. But for someone of her sheer size it was almost too small, her butt just inches shy of oozing over the sides as it creaked beneath her weight. Seated at last, she licked her lips as she sized up the cake before sparing Valiant one last sultry glance. "Hey, Valiant...wanna see how I got so fucking fat?" As if to emphasize this point, she grabbed hold of her massive flabby gut and gave it a good jostling, her flesh moving and undulating fluidly as all the extra activity stirred up the insides of her churning cauldron of a gut.

 

"bbbBBBWWWWUUUURRRRRPP!!" Spitfire released a roaring belch before merely snacking her lips in satisfaction after the fact, knowing that no one present would dare question her complete disregard for common courtesy. Without bothering to wait for a response, she seized the plate holding the rather large cake and pulled it close, before grabbing two heaping handfuls of cake and cramming them directly into her mouth, crumbs and frosting already starting to spill everywhere as she began to gorge with a messy eagerness that was almost horrifying...if it weren't also so arousing. She moaned long and loud as the incredible flavors met her tongue, her eyes practically rolling up into her skull in ecstasy as she savored what for most ponies would be a once-in-a-lifetime treat.

 

Valiant watched Spitfire walk, and he was aroused. The way she jiggled and huffed, and puffed for breath. Spitfire’s gentle wheezes, the way her legs were clearly pained. There was a sadomasochistic element to it, perhaps, but more than that Spitfire was just fat as hell- and retained her confidence and pride in herself. She was a woman that could make being a twig sexy, or being a beast- and she was certainly a beast. When she sat his eyes moved to him, and when she wobbled her belly Valiant shivered- and came. It was immediate, and she could see the writhing throb in his pants before the guard sniffed slightly and coughed before he simply left without a word.

 

“You’re an absolute monster,” Valiant noted once he caught his breath, and he stepped over to Spitfire, and then leaned over and palmed her belly while he grabbed her love handles. “I thought you were sexy when you were a third this size. You must outweigh Celestia now…”

 

The cake, of course, was immediately proven challenging to eat. It was thick, each mouthful was heavy and so insanely rich in taste and calories it was actually hard to swallow and triggered Spitfire’s gag reflex. The taste was overpowering, and immediately upon swallowing it at first there was a twinge of pain in her stomach, a slight warning of the challenge, even as her monumentally proficient digestive system soothed it soon enough.

 

“Guard!” Valiant barked, and snapped his fingers once he stepped in again. “Bring my bags from the helicopter. I’ve decided to stay- and I’ll be sharing Spitfire’s quarters.”

 

Valiant reached with one hand, and stuffed a larger handful than she could manage into Spitfire's face. In fact, he mashed cake in there until her cheeks were bulging as a challenge. Eating this was hard.

 

Spitfire simply groaned in lusty approval, even as her mouth was completely crammed full with the richest, densest cake she'd ever had the pleasure of tasting. And while the taste was good, *beyond* good even, the sheer amount of sugar on her tongue *burned*, her taste buds simultaneously in agony and ecstasy. Her jaw struggled feebly up and down in a futile effort to masticate the sheer mass of cakey goodness, but it was like trying to chew an overflowing mouthful of cement. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she raised her plump hands to her face before grasping her jaw with one and her muzzle with the other and forcing herself to chew harder.

 

The sight of someone manually forcing themself to chew was absurd enough by itself, but this still was not enough for Spitfire. Resigning herself to not completely enjoying her food in favor of getting it down in the first place, her throat *bulged* as she swallowed hard. A massive lump of half-chewed cake was dragged down her throat and into her already-occupied stomach, which let out a gleeful roar of digestion as it began working eagerly away at its latest offering, keen to convert all those thousands of calories into even more mass for her burgeoning form.

 

Yes, that single bite held more than a thousand calories by itself. Spitfire swallowed a second time.

 

“Fuck me that’s hot,” Valiant gaped, and proceeded to soon ram Spitfire’s face full a second time with the same strength in his arms- which outright bulged doing so- before whispering in her ear, “Do it again,” he directed, and applied a firm slap to Spitfire’s belly before he stood up again, and started undoing his shirt.

 

“Six years ago you would have already split open. Turns you on, doesn’t it, to know you’re outdoing what I thought was a downright disturbing ability to eat isn’t it? You remember how Fleet and Soarin looked when you ate 20 pies? That look of fear? Imagine them now,” Valiant mused, and soon tossed away his dress jacket.

 

When the door opened by the arrival of that guard, he was faced with Spitfire trying to get cake down, half of the cake missing, and Valiant leaning over her and guiding her hand towards his lower body. Valiant glanced at him as he entered, “You got milk, right? Bags in her room, bring a gallon,” Valiant directed.

 

It was just in time for Spitfire to swallow, and then release a deep bellowing and pained belch. It came simultaneously to a button bursting off her outfit, and Valiant sighed softly. “Force it down, Spitfire, one handed,” Valiant challenged, and put his hands on Spitfire’s belly and her right breast, squeezing both.

 

The sheer force and volume of the monstrous belch left her ears ringing as it echoed a few times in the cavernous dining chamber. She could feel a small pool of bile kissing the back of her throat, contributing to how deep and wet the belch had been. She was only halfway through the devilishly rich cake, and already she felt thoroughly sick. She was nowhere near full, but every moaning breath felt like it was going to bring the contents of her stomach with it. Her entire inner digestive tract felt like it was on fire from the sheer overload of sugar coursing through her system.

 

So it was that she leased her most lustful moan yet as Valiant shoved *even more* cake into her gaping maw, her eyes gazing up adoringly at him as he started to undress and get even more eager with his groping and feeding. Her throat rippled with another powerful swallow. No matter how much of the cake he fed her, it seemed she would not stop swallowing until her body physically couldn't.

 

Valiant leaned into Spitfire’s ear, “Finish it. You have two minutes, do it and I’ve got a surprise for you… fatass,” Valiant whispered, and gave Spitfire’s wobbling middle a firm slap that set it jiggling and audibly sloshing. “There must be two gallons of acid in you, you’re an absolute freak,” Valiant mused, and whoever touched his rather eager manhood next- him or her- he was soon finding his way to another release.

 

With a deep shuddering breath, Valiant came on Spitfire’s belly, just as it groaned with deeply sick discontent. Her belly was a monstrous thing, but even as it tried it was still pained and strained by all this. Valiant soon forced a handful of cake into Spitfire’s face, and then put his hand to the back of her head and slapped her down into the cake itself. “Minute and a half…” Valiant whispered down to her, and zipped himself back up while Valiant’s seed dripped onto the floor from Spitfire’s yellow belly.

 

Slowly but determinedly Spitfire's arms rose before slamming down on the table next to the cake. Picking her gasping and moaning face up out of the cake, she proceeded to wrap her arms towards her, effectively vacuuming up every last chunk of cake on the plate into her mouth. Now with naught but a huge, sticky ball of cake before her, she began *pounding* what was left into her maw, throat rippling with every swallow as she continued to gorge herself beyond reason. Her stomach loosed a mournful bellow, now thoroughly angry about the more than 10,000 undigested calories already residing within its depths.

 

Spitfire's eyes bulged as a muffled gag could be heard, just before her entire stomach *lurched*, her body finally admitting defeat and forcefully expelling some of its contents. Unfortunately for her stomach, her throat was *entirely* plugged up with cake, so what would have otherwise been a messy expulsion instead had nowhere to go. Her eyes watered as the acidic fumes stung the insides of her nostrils, her throat continuing to gag futilely on the mass of vomit-soaked cake filling it. Spitfire gurgled sickly as she forced herself to swallow with a monumental effort, her cheeks now tinging a noticeable shade of green as her insides were assaulted by even more sugar and fat.

 

Spitfire’s stomach churned and groaned softly, the absolutely disturbing sounds of squelching and pain muffled by hundreds of pounds of pure fat. Spitfire could only sit there and wheeze, trying to keep it down, when Valiant reached out to accept the gallon of milk from the un-nerved guard.

 

“Sir I think she’s had enough.”

 

Valiant looked to Spitfire’s eyes, “Never,” he spoke, and jammed the mouth of the bottle into Spitfire’s lips. With Valiant’s magic, he made her swallow. Her stomach almost seemed confused in its lurching rumbles as her throat muscles suddenly worked like a pump, sucking down milk quickly and swelling her gut out another bit, just enough to snap another button. When it was all inside her, Valiant tossed aside the jug, and leaned over Spitfire.

 

“Can you keep it down, big girl, or are you going to admit defeat?” Valiant challenged, and to add to that slapped his hand to her middle and gave it a rough shove. “Haul this thing to your room, your reward is waiting there…”

 

Valiant leaned into her ear, “And it’s not my dick either, you would have gotten that either way.”

 

A sickly gurgle was the only response he got for a couple moments. Spitfire's brain seemed to have suffered a temporary failure after that complete stimulus overload, and was currently in full-on 'reboot' mode. Her stomach, however, had no such qualms about remaining quiet and loosed an absolute *howl* of anguish at its thorough mistreatment, stretched as it was about a mass of half-digesting foodstuffs that weighed over 30 kilos and represented more than 25,000 calories. As Spitfire slowly blinked herself back to life, all that pain and nausea came rushing back, her eyes bulging as her hands flew to her muzzle, her cheeks bulging as she made horrible squelching noises.

 

Despite her stomach's final desperate urge to purge some of its contents, her cheeks remained thoroughly bulged and her throat remained unemptied. Rivulets of bile dribbled down her chins but other than that, the dam held, if only just.

 

The bench screeched against the floor as she lurched her massively overfed form backwards, her knees creaking and belly squelching as she unsteadily rose to her feet. Without a word, hands still clasped firmly over her mouth, Spitfire took her first staggering step forwards and began the arduous, lurching journey to her room.

 

Valiant moved around behind Spitfire while she walked, and put his arms around her. The warmth and strength of his hands under her belly, lifting and supporting it, was as attractive as it was a pleasant relief- the first relief she’d had in a while. While they walked, slowly but surely with thumping footsteps, Spitfire’s heels snapped under her and her body made a fleshy “thump” as it fell a few inches, and her stomach moaned mournfully.

 

“I’ve never even heard of a mare eating a whole one of those, and milk, and whatever else. You must have the biggest stomach… ever, period,” Valiant whispered into her ear, while helping her with every pained step. “It hurts, doesn’t it, being this big? But you love it…”

 

Eventually, after leading her past her own gawking guards who knew her for being a glutton- but this was extreme even for her- they entered her quarters. Valiant halted and levitated a bottle out of his bags, and slipped his hands up Spitfire while he supported her against him. She was going to lose this battle eventually out of pure exhaustion, but Valiant’s firm magic soon helped. The bottle was stuck to her lips, and then Spitfire’s throat bulged to push down potion and cake.

 

Immediately Spitfire’s gag reflex vanished. The pain of her gut remained, and it churned and groaned all the same- but there was no risk of anything coming back out. Valiant tossed the bottle aside, and leaned into Spitfire’s ear, “If I ever told you could eat and eat and eat, and no matter what you would never puke, what would you do?” Valiant whispered, and gave Spitfire’s belly a firm, sadistic, slap as he squeezed past her into her room.

 

“Jiggle it, slosh it. Try. Nothing is gonna come up, Spitfire.”

 

Spitfire's quarters were luxurious, about what one would expect for the master bedroom of such an estate. The bed was large, even large enough to fit her and a partner- at her present size- although it would be a little tight. On the walls were a few commendations, Spitfire's weight tracking sheet, and a pin-up of Spitfire six years ago. Valiant looked to it, and then slapped Spitfire's gut again.

 

"You look like you fucking ate that mare. Not even Celestia could eat all this- fuck me she'd explode trying. Nobody has ever been able to eat as much as you." he spoke, "Freak," he hissed slightly, and winked at her.

 

Spitfire's eyes slowly widened as the she fully realized what exactly had just been done to her. Oh sure, she was still in terrible, awful pain, but with it there was somehow not even the slightest urge to throw up... Turning her wide-eyed gaze to Valiant, her expression slowly morphed into one of the greediest, most gluttonous smiles ever to be seen in the history of ponykind. "What would I do?" she repeated back to him, her voice a bit hoarse from all the acid in her throat. "I would eat more...ALWAYS more..." She paused, fixing him with a long look for a moment before grinning. "...You have more, don't you?"

 

More there indeed was. A second cake was produced, and Spitfire's knees finally gave out. She collapsed onto her bed with a lurching *THUD!* The nearest leg snapped clean off causing her to drop another slight bit, but at her size it was hardly noticeable. Spitfire swallowed her fear, swallowed her pride...and reached forward to swallow yet even more cake.

 

“I always have more,” Valiant returned. “That’s who I am, Spitfire. I might as well glue red-wings to my back because I’m an incubus. I’m an enabler, I am the devil on your shoulders given voice and form,” Valiant spoke, and his horn glowed to cast large shimmering wings from his back.

 

“I want to make you fatter until you can’t get fatter. I want to make you bigger until your poor heart finally gives out. I want to feed you until even Nightmare Moon thinks we’ve gone too far.” Valiant noted, and stepped up before slapping his hands firmly to Spitfire’s gut.

 

“First, though, let me give you what I promised earlier…” Valiant mused, and leaned into Spitfire’s ear, “Forget the cake for now, lardass, it’s time I made you feel like a mare… then you can go back to making yourself into a fucking whale.”

 

Valiant shoved Spitfire on her back with his hands slapping to her enormous breasts, and he put his magic into form as he went absolutely wild laying on his experienced and perversely intense sex on her. The focus of it, of course, was her womanhood. Valiant plugged himself in with a wet slap and wet at it like a living sex toy as he thrust in and out, immediately starting to pour his seed into her and Spitfire’s womb started to swell with it. His magic thrust into her other whole hole though, and with a rather perverted spell he duplicated his shaft into her mouth- while he used cake icing to replicate his spunk coming out of it.

 

Spitfire could only desperately gasp for breath as Valiant took her with strength and vigorous effort. With every thrust her stomach lurched and sloshed, and she belched against the phallic magical shape thrust down her throat. It was a sexual experience few mares had been able to endure, and Spitfire had been with him before- Valiant was fucking her harder now. His breaths were more rapid, his body sweatier, his muscles tenser. He was even more attracted to her now, more desperately infatuated with her obesity and size now, than he had ever been before.

 

It was an intense experience, and when Valiant started to tire he had pumped Spitfire with a years output of sunk, which dripped onto the floor, but Spitfire had yet to reach her full climax. As good as it was, there was something Spitfire wanted more than sex. Sometime her mind demanded more, the yin to the yang here. Food. So when Valiant pulled out, exhausted, Spitfire was just as full of spunk as she always was and only one part of her was satisfactorily stuffed to bursting.

 

Spitfire needed more.

 

And more is what she got. Once again, her senses were completely overwhelmed by the scent and taste of sugar as the cake was dumped unceremoniously onto her face and chest. That first bite of the second cake tasted just as good as the first of the first had, but a dangerous thrill shot through her as she realized the gag reflex she'd been starting to develop against the flavor was completely absent. Moaning loudly, Spitfire began to *eat.*

 

Lying spread-eagled on her bed, the cake sat in a lumpy pile on her chest, her deep cleavage serving to keep her meal close at hand while she started relentlessly stuffing chunks of cake and frosting into her mouth. A whirlwind of consumption followed, Spitfire's snorting, chomping, and swallowing creating a chorus of gluttony while her stomach crept higher and higher into the air. By now Spitfire was well and truly *stuffed*, to say nothing of how many calories she would end the day having consumed. None of this mattered to the obese glutton, her throat pumping more and more cakey morass into her increasingly strained stomach.

 

A soft *pop!* was heard as her belly button inverted from the pressure. Angry stretch lines started to criss-cross the immense yellow swell as the skin started to blush under her fur, a low gurgling groaning noise making itself known as her stomach started to stretch beyond its safe limit. Spitfire heeded none of this, solely focused on consuming every last bit of the second cloud cake. Her mind was in a gluttonous haze, all higher brain functions having shut down long ago in favor of the bare necessities needed to feed on even more cake.

 

A long, load moan sang out as Spitfire finally reached her release, the weight and pressure from her belly on her stuffed womb causing her to fall into a powerful orgasm, her fluids gushing from her womanhood and spurting across the room. Her eyes clenched shut as tears of agony trickled down her cheeks, but still she ate on. When she ran out of chunks of cakey goodness, her fingers started scooping up icing to get sucked off. Even stuffed beyond bursting as she was, Spitfire was determined to get every last scrap and sucked each of her fingers clean again and again.

 

"BBBBBWWWWWOOOOOORRRRRUUUUUURRRRRRAAAAARRRRRPPPP!!" The very room seemed to shake as Spitfire released the longest and loudest belch ever to be heard on the island of Sicily. While no solids or liquids were capable of escaping her stomach, the potion said nothing about gas! After nearly 30 seconds of straight release, Spitfire's maw finally snapped shut and she took a gasping breath of air, her stomach nearly bursting right there as she exhaled with a pained moan, followed immediately by another deep, sickly belch.

 

Spitfire belched again, and again, and again, her stomach quivering and trembling as it nearly churned itself over dealing with its impossible load. Each massive, belching quake of her stomach stirred up more gas, prompting yet more belching and quaking. Throughout all of this, Spitfire was dead to the world, too thoroughly overwhelmed by the screaming of her overtaxed body, the satisfaction of being so incredibly gluttonous, and the hazy afterglow of her mind-shattering orgasm.

 

Unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, Spitfire drifted off into an uneasy sleep, belching constantly under her breath as her mountain of a stomach kept her completely pinned to her ruined bed, her clothing in tatters around her.