Cup Cake x Carrot Cake Fat Green


                                            Written for a friend and to post in /bpg/.


                                            >Be Carrot Cake, co-owner of the Sugarcube Corner

                                            >Today is a special day -- after months of working almost totally alone on the bakery, you've trained backup staff to take over in place of your somewhat-inconsistent helper Pinkie

                                            >The details are complicated and involve a few magical tricks you couldn't begin to understand, but the part that matters is that you've got the next month off!

                                            >You awaken early in your oversized bed beside your mountainous, gorgeous wife

                                            >Cup Cake, between caring for those foals and helping in the kitchen all day, has resorted to quite an extreme case of stress eating

                                            >Stress eating may not sound like much, but the mare you love has always been on the heavy side, and the only thing keeping her from dangerous levels of overeating has been her sense of responsibility

                                            >You carefully peel the covers off your own, admittedly soft form, gingerly crawling your way up to Cup Cake's face

                                            >Makeup or no makeup, whatever size she is, she is the most precious, beautiful pony in all of Ponyville, and you get lost in the sound of her breathing

                                            >Although...it's taken on a slight snore since the beginning of the year

                                            "Good morning, gorgeous," you murmur right into her ear, backing up to watch her waking up

                                            >Those big, emotive eyes look right back at you, unfocused but full of affection

                                            >"Mm...morning big guy," she sighs, smacking her lips and blinking herself awake

                                            >You can't help but lean in for a kiss right on her lips, briefly flicking her tongue as if to lend her your wakeful energy

                                            "Do you know what today is?"

                                            >"Carrot Cake, dear, I've been counting the seconds to this morning. And I cannot wait."


                                            >You quickly throw the covers off, exposing her rotund form fully to you

                                            >From her position lying on her side, your lover is a testament to the adage that it's not the weight you carry, but how you carry it

                                            >Her face is undoubtably fat, but the dimples and folds of fatty skin are in all the right places to accent her otherwise smooth, flawless face

                                            >Her chin gives way to a second that would be more noticeable, if her neck hadn't grown as much as it had

                                            >Her chest is fat enough to squish against her tree trunk legs, as is her belly, limiting the flexibility of her front hooves between them

                                            >Her belly, while prone this way, pools out like baby-blue pudding, her navel deep enough to stick half your hoof inside

                                            >Her flanks, while round as she is tall, are nearly completely devoid of any folds or wrinkles

                                            >Those cutie marks are smooth and massive across her enormous cheeks -- while she waddles, the shape of her mark shifts, becoming elongated horizontally and warping slightly before settling again

                                            >Before you can continue openly admiring your love's gravid body, she starts to roll over, huffing and straining with exertion

                                            >Fool that you are, your heart spurs you to action any time she acts for herself, and so you quickly plant your hooves onto her belly

                                            >It takes a great deal of effort even with her help to spin her around to fall off the bed

                                            >Her hooves fall with a dull set of thuds, the floors quietly groaning as her belly bounces and quakes before settling upon the carpet beneath her

                                            >Okay...perhaps her stress eating has gotten a bit past the point of 'dangerous'

                                            >But by the ass of the Moon, she carries it so incredibly well, with such grace, beauty, and-

                                            >"Hhhff, honey, are you going to help me to the bath or not? My chest hurts, hhh...and at this rate I might need a snack just to, just to stay awake through it all."

                                            "O-oh, dear. Was I spacing out?"

                                            >Horseapples, you said that out loud!

                                            >You hop down, your own body gently jiggling and bouncing with the impact as you offer an apologetic kiss on the cheek

                                            "I'm sorry baby. Why don't I grab you some cheesecake while you run the water?"

                                            >"Well, okay, honeybuns."

                                            >You see her looking a bit embarrassed, biting her lip just a little as she shuffles herself into pounding toward the bath

                                            "Y...you CAN get to the bathroom on your own, right Cuppycake?"

                                            >Just turning herself for the arduous twenty foot trek to her bathroom door has her breathing a bit heavily

                                            >Finally she turns her head -- well, mostly turns it -- and sighs, dejected

                                            >"Maybe...not today...work still has me a, hhh...a bit achy..."

                                            "Oh, babe..."

                                            >You walk around her and reach up, cupping a hoof on her cheek to place your forehead on hers

                                            "Just take a bit to breathe, I'll bring you some milk to cool down, and then we can take care of your bath."

                                            >"You're too kind, honey..."


                                            >You traverse the stairs down to the bakery proper, the place not yet opened for business, and load up a cookie sheet sized tray with sweets

                                            >Cookies, brownies with cream cheese, a slice of red velvet sheet cake, and half of a Manehattan-style cheesecake

                                            >You top it off with two quart jugs, carrying them in your mouth in a balancing act your underbite actually aids you with

                                            >You may have grabbed a few brownies for yourself along the way, but who's keeping stock?

                                            >Well...you, but increasingly the act of measuring your shrinkage in profit is becoming pointless

                                            >You come up to see your mare dragging that gut across the carpet, panting and sweating and quietly swearing between breaths

                                            >She doesn't yet notice you, no doubt due to the pounding in her chest at this exertion

                                            >Just before you get close enough to touch her, you decide to set the tray down and listen to her more clearly

                                            >...and not just to stare at her tail-swallowing canyon of plot-cleavage

                                            >"You can't eef--nngh, even make thhhs dist'nce!? Huff, huff...you've got to...go on a diet. Ssuh...starting today!"

                                            >Your voice catches in your throat, but you have to say something

                                            "S-sweetie, you can relax, I'm here."

                                            >"Oh Celestia!" She shouts in surprise and embarrassment. "Don't tell me you've heard my...!"

                                            "Wait, Cuppycake, it's okay..."

                                            >You carefully raise a hoof to her withers, leaning in to offer affection

                                            "You're doing okay. Don't beat yourself up. I'm your husband, and I swore to Faust I'd take care of your needs. Do you trust me?"

                                            >She smiles just a bit, leaning into you

                                            "Then trust me when I say you're the same beautiful, loving, thoughtful and wise filly I married. We can figure out any issue together, don't feel like you need to do tgings alone."

                                            >She nuzzles cheeks with you at your sappy monologue, lifting one enormous leg up to hug your neck

                                            >You...may have ulterior motives for encouraging her to lean on you more


                                            >With great effort and a brief milk break for each of you, you get to the bathtub

                                            >You found out only after offering your wife one of the jugs that she's drinking half-and-half, but she doesn't seem to notice, guzzling nearly half of it in one long chug

                                            >You run the water while you haul her to the tub, filling the enormous bath before you get her there

                                            >You move the tray in, kiss Cup Cake's cheek again, and haul her belly over the bath's edge

                                            >Her body may be huge, but you got this bath to act as a hot tub for...spicy nights, so it still fits the both of you with a little space

                                            >You join her in the bath, sliding in behind her as she...tries to sit on her haunches

                                            >Her gut is in the way, front hooves finding no purchase on the porcelain floor unless she leans forward again

                                            >As you soap her rump up, you rapidly become lost in her enormity

                                            >More interestingly, you start drifting to thoughts of comparison

                                            >You sit on your haunches without trouble, but your legs are spread apart

                                            >Your belly is unlike your wife's, more like a medicine ball attached to a more average stallion

                                            >Currently pliable and soft, but maintaining a surprising roundness

                                            >Your chin is met with a friend as you look down, but it disappears as you raise your muzzle again

                                            >Your cutie marks retain their size, but are just slightly stretched horizontally

                                            >You snap out of your inner thoughts, focusing on the mare you love the most

                                            >Said mare does little to help in washing up, simply grazing on her cheesecake and making light conversation about the vacation between bites and breaths

                                            >You caress every inch of that beautiful lady with soapy hooves, unable to resist the urge to whisper and coo to your love out of pure habit

                                            >The sounds of bubbling digestion, of breaking down your incredibly dense baking, overpowers all other sounds as you massage her every inch

                                            >You lose track of time, of cleaning, of all the world

                                            >Finally, you hear Cup Cake clearing her throat

                                            "Bwuh?"

                                            >"Could you, perhaps...grab me a little more?"

                                            "A little more what--"

                                            >It's all gone

                                            >That entire tray you set up has disappeared in her maw, with only mild help from you

                                            >You'd speak, but your...excitement speaks for itself

                                            >"It could wait a few minutes, if you'd like to...lather up a bit. How's that, hon?"

                                            >You are the luckiest stallion alive