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Corrupt Rarity's Lunch

By BigPone
Created: 22nd October 2020 09:31:33 PM
4th November 2021 07:38:11 PM

  1. Not my story. I don't care for it, but this is for archival purposes.
  2.  
  3. The table groaned, bent with food. The zebra waiters, in their smart white shirts and black bowties, finished lowering the last platter onto the massive wooden table, causing it to give out a final squeak of protest. One of them inhaled the scents, the smells of everything fried and buttered and swimming in grease and lard. There was tempura; there was pasta; there were deep fried vegetables and leaves. There were salads laden with dressing and cheese, skins of potatoes hollowed out and stuffed with cheese and curds. There was fried okra and fried potatoes and fried tomatoes and more, all of it sweating with heat and grease and fat. The zebra waiters, and those who stood guarding the doors, couldn't help but feel their stomachs rumble in hunger. It was more food than most of them were given in two weeks' time.
  4.  
  5. "Mistress!" called Betsy, the zebra chief steward, down the hall into one of the big house's sitting rooms. "Mistress, lunch is ready!"
  6.  
  7. "Ah, good," cooed Rarity, her massive obese body sprawled across a chaise lounge. "Boys, let's go." Six muscular zebras were beside her then, and their limbs strained as they lifted her up. Her belly, a spongy sack of fat riddled with stretchmarks, swung low between the sets of three zebras, while her ass, wider than two of them, dimpled and pockmarked, sagged down onto their own buttocks and then low to the floor. With grunting noises they carried her through the doors down the hallway, their sweat sometimes dripping down to stain the ornate rugs that covered the hardwood floor. They had just reached the wide double doors to the dining room when Rarity said, "Ah, boys, do set me down."
  8.  
  9. "Missah, why?"
  10.  
  11. Rarity took a sniff, and her jowls quivered. "Mmmm, MMMMMM, I do believe I'll-hrff!-walk myself to my place. I ought to work up an appetite, after all. Do it!"
  12.  
  13. So the zebras carefully set their owner down. Her belly touched the floor before her hooves, and her ass cheeks bounced lower than her back knees. "Come on, mistress!" said Betsy with a smile, knowing how Rarity liked to do this. "Can't you smell it?"
  14.  
  15. Rarity took another whiff. The heavenly scent of food was overpowering. Her tongue lolled out. Drool trickled down her heavy jaw and ran between her three chins. "Hrrf, hrrf," she grunted from anticipation, sounding a little hoggish. But she recovered her composure, raised her nose daintily in the air, and began to drag herself forward.
  16.  
  17. It was slow going. Her belly dragged along the floor, and her thick, fat legs had to rub against its sides, giving her an extremely awkward forward shuffle. By the time she got into the dining room she was huffing and puffing, joints on fire from gout and general unfitness.
  18.  
  19. The distance was barely a hundred feet, so even Rarity, in her girth and sloth, arrived at her prepared cushion soon enough. But she was wheezing and sputtering as she hauled herself onto the plush, costly silk. "Ahhh," she cooed, wriggling into the cushion. "Huff... hfff... ah... pff... Betsy... Betsy, Betsy..."
  20.  
  21. "Feeling good, mistress?" Betsy asked, coming up beside her.
  22.  
  23. "I am... huff... feeling splendid, darling," said Rarity, regaining her breath. "Oh, Betsy, how I love luxury. There's simply nothing better than a life of comfort, especially when the comfort is well-earned." Rarity let out a low fart; she never held them in around the zebras. "Oh, a life of ease, Betsy, that's the ticket!"
  24.  
  25. "I do think you're right, mistress," said Betsy, earning her a glare from at least one of the observing zebra servants. She tied a napkin the size of a blanket around Rarity's huge fat neck. "Well, mistress, dig in!"
  26.  
  27. "Hrrf," grunted Rarity, and with a surge of motion she pulled herself to the table, and the feast began.
  28.  
  29. She gobbled down tempura. She crammed hayburgers into her mouth, two at a time. She stuffed her face into bowls of creamy pasta, horn glowing as her magic ensured every last noodle found its way into her jaws. She guzzled curries, cooing with pleasure at their intoxicating spice. She munched salads and crunched hay fries and dumped whole bowls of mashed potatoes into her gapped lips. One of the zebra servants heard his own stomach growl; Rarity did not notice, but one of his fellows gave him a sympathetic eye.
  30.  
  31. Her pace did not slacken as she worked her way through the infinity of food. In fact, the more she ate, the hungrier she seemed to get. A crazy kind of gleam came into her blue eyes, and she ate faster, more messily, with less composure. Gravy slopped onto her belly, where the stretch marks were redder than ever. Sauce and dressing splattered her sides and her chins. But she didn't stop. Rarity ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate.
  32.  
  33. To the supreme shock of every zebra present, she even gave her body a great heave. Using every bit of power in her weak muscles, she hauled her front half up onto the table. Her horn glowed, and with her magic she made an assembly line of the remaining food, sliding it across the expensive wooden surface into her all-consuming maw. She gurgled and grunted, sputtering breaths from exhaustion. But still she ate and ate. There was joy in her heart. To gorge herself was the height of happiness.
  34.  
  35. At last, there was one potato skin left. Rarity smiled at it in a drunk, delirious way. She used her magic to slide it through the mess she'd made on the table, ensuring that it picked up a great deal of the remaining sour creams, sauces, curries, and gravies spattered along the wood. When she'd laden it with everything it could bear, her eyes gleamed, and she crammed it whole into her mouth, chewing it with moans and coos of pleasure.
  36.  
  37. She slowly slid off the table, plopping back down onto the cushion with a THUD that shook the house. "Huff... hufff... pff.... hff... hfff..." she panted. The eating had exhausted her.
  38.  
  39. "Such a good job, mistress," said Betsy, coming close with a dampened towel. She began to wipe Rarity off, careful to lift her folds of fat to clean them properly. "Was everything to your liking?"
  40.  
  41. "It... I... It... Unnnnnnhhh," groaned Rarity. She listed backwards, and, like a collapsing building, slowly sagged her way onto the cushion, until she was lying on her side. Her massive belly was even bigger than usual, jutting out from her huge and round, the size of a small hay bail. She rubbed soft hooves along the parts of it she could reach. "Uhhhhh..." she groaned again. Her eyes were open and vacant, a trickle of saliva running out of her mouth. "Uuuuuunnnnnn..."
  42.  
  43. "Mistress, is everything all right?" Betsy looked down worriedly. "Mistress?" Rarity sometimes got like this after a particularly large meal. It was a semi-regular occurrence; even so, with a pony of Rarity's size and condition, one couldn't be too careful. Betsy gently put a hoof against her flabby neck, checking her pulse to make sure she wasn't having a heart attack or a stroke. The zebras manning the doors nudged each other in the side. It was their opinion that one day Missa Rarity would eat herself to death. Then they might be free.
  44.  
  45. Rarity continued to stare straight ahead. She worked her mouth a little, jowls wobbling like gelatin.
  46.  
  47. "Mistress?" Betsy asked again. She still wasn't alarmed, but she had to be sure... "Mistress, are you-"
  48.  
  49. "Hic!" The hiccup shook her obese body, sending ripples across it like it was water. "Hic! Hic! Hic!"
  50.  
  51. "Mistress, I can get you an antacid if you-"
  52.  
  53. "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRP!!!" The crystal chandelier and the plates on the table rattled from the power of the belch. Rarity blinked, and her eyes refocused. "Ohhh, that was delicious." Rarity cocked her tail back.
  54.  
  55. "I'm glad you-"
  56.  
  57. *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT* "Ahhh," she sighed contentedly as the fart swelled from between her massive buttocks. Betsy's eyes stung at the terrible stench. "Betsy, Betsy, help me up."
  58.  
  59. "Help her up!" said Betsy. Four of the servants came close, and with Betsy as the fifth helper they hauled Rarity up to a sitting position.
  60.  
  61. Rarity smiled at them, a picture of contentment. "That was simply divine, Betsy. My compliments to the chefs. Tell them they can all have an extra potato to themselves this weekend!"
  62.  
  63. "I'll be sure to let them know, mistress. They'll be honored by your generosity. Now, what else will you require?"
  64.  
  65. Rarity ran a hoof along her immense gut. Her eyes lit up. "Dessert."
  66.  
  67. THE END

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