Chocolate Pie I: Isekai


                                            It has been over a year since you found yourself in the land of Equestria. Taking a tumble down the Grand Canyon could not have had a better outcome. It took a while to get used to your new body, and the fact you changed from a 29 year old man with a dead end job and crippling addictions to a young green filly with a black mane. That took some getting used to. You even got to skip that weight loss regimen you kept putting off, and were rather slim.


                                            That didn’t last.


                                            Right in line with your luck, you kept every part of your mental faculties from before, including your habits, and found yourself in the care of a family that wasn’t very conducive to a slender lifestyle.


                                            You first arrived in Twilight Sparkle’s old castle of friendship, now under the care of Starlight Glimmer and her husband Starburst after Twilight had moved to Canterlot. After some commotion and a visit from the Princess herself, you and the Headmare herself learned that an old portal in the upper chambers was responsible for your appearance.

                                            While she was explaining the intricacies of the portal and how you weren’t the first one to come through it, you couldn’t help but stare at her soft, round plot. The purple princess was rather pudgy, having quite the pot belly, a steadily forming double chin, and a pair of plot cheeks and thighs that could barely squeeze into her old chair in the meeting room. Twilight noticed you staring at her assets, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she threw you a sly smirk and decided who your new family would be.


                                            For the first time in your life, you were thin and in-shape, and you wouldn’t even get to enjoy it for long. Your new home was a place called Sugarcube Corner, and your new family was known as the Cheese Pies. Your adoptive father, Cheese Sandwich, was the only thin member of this family. Your adoptive mother, Pinkie Pie, was at least twice as heavy as Twilight, with a belly that hung down past her knees and a rear so large it took up over half of a three seat couch. Your adoptive brother Lil’ Cheese, who you thought was another filly at first glance, looked just like his mother if you transferred about a third of her plot fat into her belly. He was a short colt, and his belly would scrape against the floor after every meal.

                                            Your parents took after the previous owners, the Cakes. They had gone into retirement and gave Pinkie the store, but swung by from time to time to help with big orders. Mr. Cake and Cheese both kept slender, while the missus got fatter and fatter every year. The Cakes’ offspring showed up every once in a while to move some deliveries, and the two had surprisingly stayed relatively fit.


                                            You on the other hand, as an honorary member of the family, had no such luck. Old habits die hard, and you always did like sweets too much. Your entire diet was sweets now. It didn’t help that the name you were given was Chocolate Pie.

                                            Breakfast? Mountains of pancakes, danishes, and donuts. Cheese had a reasonable portion, while you, Pinkie, and Lil’ Cheese ate your fill and then some.

                                            Lunch? Everyone at Cheerilee’s school brought lunch from home, and Pinkie would pack you and your brother a big bag of cupcakes and a different flavor of pie for each day of the week.

                                            After school snack? You and Lil’ Cheese helped Pinkie bake after her morning shift workers left for the day. Any mistake, overproduction, or otherwise leftover baking material, you and your brother would take turns scarfing down. By the time dinner time came around and Sweetie Belle, who was getting rather chubby herself, stopped by to run the store for the next couple hours, you had eaten more than you did at lunch.

                                            Dinner? Mountains of cakes, pies of all assortments, cannolis, pastries, and any unsold goods that were close to stale were laid out. Even with your belly filled with that afternoon’s snacking, you simply couldn’t resist the spread before you. Just like breakfast, Cheese would have a meager and reasonable portion, while the rest stuffed themselves silly. Your belly would hurt, and you’d still shovel more in, entranced by the sweet taste and amazing aroma.

                                            Dessert? Dinner was always too much food even for three gluttons to handle, and a second meal’s worth was always left over. It was left out on the table for whoever wanted more later on, and anything untouched in the morning would be donated to both of the town’s schools. Lil’ Cheese, no matter how much he wanted more, could never clear up enough room before falling asleep for the night. Pinkie would always make a big dent in the leftovers over the course of the night.

                                            You, on the other hand, could barely move after dinner, and it was time to sleep before you could make it back to the table. Despite having an adult mind, your little filly body, growing in multiple meanings of the term, forced you to follow its natural energy and sleeping patterns. Having an engorged belly certainly helped with the fatigue. After a few months, you did finally end up sneaking your way downstairs when a midnight rumble shook your chubby belly, and started digging away at the leftovers on the table. You’d try to just keep to a relatively light snack, but would always end up with a repeat of dinner, stuffing yourself until it hurt. It was a good thing everyone was a heavy sleeper, otherwise your panting and moaning climbing back upstairs to your room might get you in trouble.


                                            It was no surprise to anyone that you put on a pretty significant amount of weight, at least after learning you were the adoptive daughter of Pinkie Pie. It was equally unsurprising when you finally got your cutie mark, and it was of a collection of pies and cakes. With your eating habits and body, it’s easy to joke that you got your cutie mark in being a glutton, but you grew just as adept in baking as you did in eating.

                                            What was surprising, was just how much you grew. Pinkie had reached a hefty 440 pounds, and your brother was sitting at around 250. You, the little filly that was actually underweight when she first arrived in Ponyville, had eclipsed your brother. Not only were you taller than him, but you outweighed him by seventy pounds. You’re still a young filly, so 320 pounds comprised mostly of blubber is a lot to carry. Even with the natural strength of an earth pony on your side, you’re as far from an athlete as you can be, and are neither good for endurance nor speed.

                                            Your belly extends to well past your knees, almost reaching your hooves. It fills out so much it touches the ground every time you eat, thanks to your massive caloric intake. Your belly swells out to the sides further than the average fully grown mare’s. Your face rounds out considerably, with your puffy cheeks and extended double chin combining into a large, round, and soft ‘tire’ of fat. Your feminine plot and thighs meld together into a cluster of round, smooth fat that, with another hundred pounds of weight gain added on, would best your mother’s size. Your teats are slightly larger than average, just from the added fat you keep gaining. Every waddling step sends your body jiggling, your belly swaying from side to side like a pendulum, and your plot swaying left to right like you’re trying to attract a mate.


                                            Every morning for breakfast, you eat what feels like double the amount you used to. Waddling to school is a chore, and you’re snacking on treats leftover from last night the whole time. You can barely squeeze into your desk, and the chair strains under your weight. You’re constantly sneaking snacks while Cheerilee isn’t looking, though your reasonably average grades give her no reason to suspect any wrongdoing. Your saddlebag with lunch outsizes and outweighs your saddlebag of textbooks, and some students worry one day your lunch feast will end up breaking your desk. Your rump slamming into the ground was sure to cause a minor localized earthquake.

                                            You’re still surprisingly active at recess. You play a mean goalie for hoofball, even if it’s usually your belly that stops the other team’s ball.  You do your best to keep up with all the physical exertion, even if you end up an exhausted, sweaty mess in no time at all. New playground equipment was donated to the school a year prior, all more than strong enough to handle even you and your mother standing in the same spot at once, but even still you felt uneasy placing all your considerable weight on them. It was a good thing too, as there had been a marked increase in obesity rates all throughout the grounded portions of Equestria, especially in Ponyville and Canterlot. A quarter of your class is fat, including your brother, and they happen to be your closest friends. Of course, you’re the fattest of them all. You glutton.

                                            The walk home is grueling, since you always run out of snacks by the time school is over. You’re still only being paid for your help at Sugarcube corner with food, so despite the food carts you pass by, you’re without sustenance for the twenty minutes it takes you to waddle your fat ass home. There’s always a pie right inside the doorway when you get home, and you gobble it down so fast you nearly choke as soon as you get in. You aren’t able to get away with intentionally overproducing sweets or intentionally messing up orders, Pinkie will notice right away. She’s not strict or rude or anything, but you don’t want to disappoint her.


                                            You still eat quite a lot while helping with baking for a few hours, but it’s not nearly as filling. You’ve stretched your stomach out so much over the past year, your helper snacks feel like a light meal rather than a feast. Each evening, you’re the first one to greet Sweetie Belle as she arrives, a little chubbier each time. The young mare is a student teacher at the international School of Friendship, and does part time work at Sugarcube corner for a few extra bits and some free sweets. She reminds you of Twilight, from that one time you met a year ago. A pudgy pot belly that showed signs of being used to overindulgence, and a rotund plot. She hadn’t grown nearly as much as you have, but she definitely started gaining weight after you showed up.

                                            You and Sweetie have nicknames for each other. You call her ‘Sweet Cheeks’ and insist it’s a play on words with her name and her chubby cheeks, but really are referring to her plot cheeks. She calls you ‘Butterball’, both in reference to your round shape and to that time she caught you eating a pound and a half of butter on a dare. Your interactions are usually brief, as she has to get to work and you have to get to dinner, but you tend to make each other blush.


                                            Dinner time remains just the same as breakfast. You eat more than double what you used to, and force yourself to down a few mouthfuls more food even after your belly begins groaning in pain. The food tastes too good and the fullness feels too good to even consider being more modest with your intake. You barely manage to free up enough space in your still-taut gut to stuff down a couple cupcakes before having to drag yourself panting and sweating up the stairs to bed. You still wake up around midnight feeling like you haven’t eaten in a day, and find yourself fully repeating your dinner time feast.

                                            It’s a lot harder to sneak up the stairs when your belly is dragging across the floor and you’re a good 250 pounds heavier than when you started. Pinkie has caught you a few times, either through bad timing or through the amount of noise you’re making. Much to your surprise, she has never been angry or stern with you. Instead, she would kiss you on the cheek, lick some of the frosting off, and tell you “That’s my girl!” She’d then give you a light tap on the rump and head down for a snack of her own. After living this life for a year, you should be used to Pinkie Pie being the happy and upbeat mother figure that is anything but harsh and strict. All your time back on Earth poisoned your mind with a much more dystopian society, and it was hard to shake all those experiences from your mind even in the face of a peaceful utopia.

                                            It’s a quiet, peaceful weekend day, late afternoon. The Running of the Leaves had just finished, and you and your friends did your part, at least for the first mile of the course. Even the least rotund of your group was exhausted by that point, let alone you. Drenched in sweat to the point the adhesive on your running card failed, only the prospect of food could get you to move from the spot you laid down in. Sugarcube Corner was way too far away for you to be able to reach from this point, after a mile of running at full speed. Rainbow Dash herself stopped for a moment to congratulate you and remark about how fast and long you were able to move despite your size, before rushing ahead to try and beat Applejack in the race again.

                                            Prince Galaxyss Burger, so named after Princess Twilight and her many, many visits to the place, is nearby, so you and the gang head there. You’re still sweating, and feel like you’re burning up. You think you just overexerted yourself while being in nothing remotely resembling a good shape to do that in, but can’t shake the feeling something else is up. Caramel Sweets, the group’s second in command (the “hierarchy” of your group doesn’t mean anything in practice, but is based on weight), a wealthy unicorn colt that was only ten pounds shy of your weight while being a whole year younger, prods your belly with his own.

                                            “You alright?” He asks, a look of worry spread across his blubbery blue face. He’s in even worse physical shape than you, lacking that earth pony strength, but doesn’t appear to be nearly as worn out as you. You nod, reassuring yourself more than you did him. It’s apparent that you can’t talk right now. Your breathing is too laborious. “Hey, let’s both order Prince Galaxyss Challenge and see who can eat the most.” You look at him and nod again with a big, determined smile on your face. You have him beat in sheer mass, but that colt has won every eating contest the two of you have ever had. Would today be the day you finally won? All that running worked up an appetite, after all.


                                            You regret the decision almost immediately. Despite being just a filly and a colt, the only way the two of you could fit in a booth together was to sit on the same side, with the table pushed toward the other side. You’re both squished together, and feeling his fat press against yours only made that strange feeling intensify. Your diet to this point had been nothing but sweets and desserts, and a five pound sextuple stacked behemoth of a greasy hayburger didn’t look sweet at all.

                                            Your belly is squishing against the table, while Caramel’s much bigger gut practically looked like it was eating the table. Caramel wrapped one fat foreleg around your neck, and rubbed his upper belly with his other hoof. You blush, a rush of red fading in and out on your puffy green cheeks. What was this feeling? “Are you ready, big butt?” he asks. You stammer your response a bit, but manage to reply. “Y-you’re on, blubber belly!”

                                            You tear into the burger. It doesn’t taste half bad. It’s so smothered in condiments and melted cheese, you can’t even taste the hay. You’d still prefer the desserts you’re used to glutting on, but the occasional hayburger wouldn’t hurt. You’re about halfway through, and you’re starting to feel the beginning signs of fullness. This stuff must be more filling than your desserts. Five pounds is a lot of food, especially for a filly, but you’re usually pounding down way more than this. You look to your right to see how Caramel is doing. He was three quarters of the way through his, and didn’t show the slightest sign of slowing down. He already called the waitress over to bring out a second helping.

                                            With determination not to lose this time, you eat, and eat, and eat. Caramel starts on his second burger just as you finish your first, stifling a small belch as your stomach has hit the “full” mark. With your normal diet, you’d have space for two hole cakes after this. You can do this. You dig into the second burger with the same speed as you finished the first one. You’re hardly chewing at this point, just biting and swallowing. Before you know it, burger 2 is down. You hardly have a chance to exhale before an increasingly worried waitress sets a third pair of burgers down.

                                            You and Caramel look at each other. Both of you look positively stuffed, already-huge bellies stretched taut far beyond their normal sizes. Your green belly is starting to look red with strain. Your dinners don’t make you feel this stuffed. How much more can you take? “Still good, big butt? Your belly’s looking preeeeetty full!” That odd feeling within you is swelling as much as your belly is, and you’re blushing again. “So is yours, gurgle gut!” You retort, poking a hoof into his belly. Neither of you notice, but the booth table was a bit further away than when you started. Caramel started blushing himself. Was he feeling this weird feeling too?


                                            You try to caress your belly with your hooves. This hurts, a lot. You feel like you’re about to explode. You barely managed half of the third burger before you ran completely out of space. Even you have limits. You can feel the extra layer of fat building up already.

                                            Caramel polished off the third burger, the second half of yours, and washed it down with a large milkshake. How could he put so much away? His belly was just as painfully overstretched and red as yours. He really regretted eating your burger and that shake just to flex on you, you could tell.   “N-next time,” you stutter, pausing to catch your breath between each word. “We go for dessert at my place.” Caramel looked over to you, huffing and puffing a lot himself. “Yo-you’re on! I’ll outeat you there too, big butt!” You both lock eyes, and draw your faces closer. Your faces are blushing, that feeling is rising, and your bellies are squishing together. Before you know it, you’re both kissing. Sweat, saliva, condiments, and grease all mix together as your tongues interact. You’re making out in a public restaurant after stuffing yourselves to the brim. You think you finally know what that feeling is now.


                                            You find yourself laying on your back in a comfortable bed. It is creaking heavily under your weight. Your belly feels better now, but is still stuffed to the brim. Caramel is on top of you, his belly laying on top of yours. He’s panting and sweating even more than you are, thrusting his throbbing penis inside your winking vagina. Despite how enormous you still are, he can still get it in all the way. With a shout from him and a moan of pleasure from you, he ejaculates a massive load into your womb. Your already overburdened belly fills out an extra couple inches from the sheer volume of cum you’ve just ingested.  The bed collapses, unable to handle well over 600 pounds plus the thrusting force, and he lands beside you. You both fall asleep, utterly exhausted.


                                            A few hours later, you awaken to murmuring outside. Both of your bellies have shrunk down from their bloated sizes. However, both of you are noticeably just a bit fatter. Caramel’s belly bore the brunt of the fat increase, just as your plot  and thighs did for your own gain. That feeling died down, and you now know for sure: you were in heat, and just got rutted as hard as possible. It felt good, really good. You roll over and cuddle the still-sleeping stallion.

                                            The murmuring grows louder, and eventually the door opens. Standing in the doorway are Pinkie and Caramel’s mom, Tomato Cherry. They’re like polar opposites, physically. Pinkie has been getting older, but still looks lively and young, not to mention her sheer mass that dwarfs even that of you two corpulent foals. Caramel’s mother on the other hand looks more like a grandmother, and was even a little bit underweight.

                                            Philosophically, the two were rather different as well. Pinkie was very much a “never trust a skinny chef” type, and actually managed to gain a lot of customers at Sugarcube Corner using this philosophy. “The food she bakes is so good, even she can’t resist it!” was the intended reaction. Tomato Cherry, on the other hand, was the type of chef the phrase “never trust a skinny chef” was coined for. There was no issue with the food she made, in fact it was among the best stuff anyone ever ate. The problem was, she ‘encouraged’ others to eat too much, even more than the Sugarcube Corner goods did. She was the type of chef that stayed thin herself, but had a tendency to make those around her enormous. This was precisely why Caramel was almost as heavy as you, while having an even bigger stomach capacity, and why Caramel’s father, Chocolate Cream was so big. Tomato Cherry made the burgers and fries for the restaurant you and Caramel just binged at, while Chocolate Cream makes the milkshakes. He usually stays in the back, both because he’s shy, and because he weighs 750 pounds and finds moving troublesome.


                                            “OOOOOH, THEIR FIRST DATE! I’M SO EXCITED!” Pinkie screamed. In true Pinkie Pie fashion, she squeezed through the door frame she was far too big for and bounced around the room at a speed thought impossible for a pony of her size, all while not making any impact at all on the surrounding environment. The laws of physics never did seem to apply to her much, but this was just silly. You and Caramel are fully awake now, blushing and a little bit worried. It was pretty obvious you two had just engaged in the mating ritual, and both of you were scared your respective parents would tear you a new one. You were both still young, after all, and had just spent the past four hours glutting and fucking yourselves into a coma.

                                            Pinkie is trying to ask you how it all went while bouncing around, but you can’t follow her voice well. Tomato walks over and puts a hoof on Caramel’s belly, squishing it in a significant distance. She gets her stern-looking face real close to his, and he winces. To his surprise, she kisses him on the cheek and smiles. “That’s my baby whale. Remember, I want grandkids~” She cooed, causing Caramel to blush even harder. ‘Big Whale’ was Tomato’s pet name for Chocolate Cream. You found it odd that she’d have a similar nickname for her son, and similarly odd that Caramel seemed to really know what he was doing when he was on top of you. What if-…. No, that couldn’t possibly be it. Unless?


                                            Huffing, puffing, and sweating, you make your way back home. Pinkie has to stop a few times to let you catch your breath. You’re hungry already, and feel like that feast you finished just hours ago put a lot of weight on you already. While you and Caramel are going your separate ways for dinner, both your parents are planning on giving you a huge feast to celebrate. Neither you nor Caramel could refuse. How did so much food empty out of your stomach so fast?

                                            Pinkie sat you on the scale as soon as you got home, eager to see what you weighed. Your suspicions were true, you gained weight from just that one meal. A lot of it. Ten whole pounds, in one meal? There must be something special in those Princess Special burgers. Your metabolism isn’t exactly fast, and you gained 250- scratch that, 260 pounds in just one year after all. Even then, 10 pounds in one meal seemed impossible, and you were about to gain even more before the day was through.

                                            The feast laid before you looked like any other day’s dinner, but it was all for you. Instead of the usual assortment, it was all your absolute favorite sweets: apple pies, quintuple chocolate fudge, chocolate cream and caramel-filled chocolate cakes that were overstuffed and overflowing with the decadent fillings, and chocolate-peanut butter milkshakes. Normal dinner was on the dining room table as usual, but your dinner was in your room, all to yourself. You sit on your bed, licking your lips and rubbing your belly. The bed creaks under your weight. Beds made for little fillies weren’t meant to hold this much weight.

                                            Pinkie was rather devious with how she set this up. She’s clearly exploiting your gluttony and how much you seem to enjoy being fat. It would be impossible to leave your room without eating a significant chunk of the food. Even a straight line to the door wouldn’t be so simple, as your expanding  belly would brush against the food to the side, requiring it to be eaten as well. Your stomach feels like a black hole, and your favorite food is impossible to resist. Is this world intent on fattening you up? Oh well, you forgot about any attempt to not get fat again well before you forgot you used to be a guy.


                                            At the same time, Caramel is being subjected to an onslaught of hayburgers, horseshoe fries, and triple thick chocolate milkshakes. This time, Caramel is in an eating contest with his own father. He’s never been able to beat Chocolate Cream, who’s still more than twice as big, with a belly that presses against and spreads across the ground while standing. In contrast to Tomato Cherry, Chocolate Cream is very young looking, barely looking twice the age of Caramel. As much as he tries to make himself look older with his glasses and the ill-fitting shirt he wears, both of which follow a very outdated style trend, it’s a poorly kept secret that Chocolate was right around Caramel’s age when Tomato first got pregnant. Her reputation as a colt cuddler didn’t seem to bring any negative consequences, even if Chocolate was even younger than that when they began to date. Ponies were more wary of her fattening ways, having turned Chocolate from a slightly chubby foal to a 330 pound colt before she suddenly became pregnant.

                                            Tomato brings out tray after tray of burgers and fries, while Caramel and Chocolate sip milkshakes out of straws connected directly to the milkshake machine itself. “Eat up, my whales!” She sang, prodding two oversized bellies. “Especially you, Caramel. I’ve got something special for you when that belly’s nice and full~”. The sly, lewd tone was impossible to miss. “For me too, I hope!” Chocolate returned in between chews. “Of course, my big whale. You’ve hit my goal for you as well, after all.”


                                            “So… much….” You mutter, licking as much chocolate and caramel off your fat cheeks as you can reach. You’ve eaten as much as you normally do at dinner already, and your belly is touching the floor whenever you inhale. You feel like you’ve had too much, while at the same time you’re hungry enough to eat at least half of what’s left. You can make it out the door, but all this food would just go to waste. You’re in a sugar overload. Diabetes doesn’t exist in Equestria, nor do heart problems and other health issues you had to deal with back on Earth, but that doesn’t mean eating like this was consequence-free. You must have ingested more sugar so far than you do in an entire day, and your entire diet is comprised of this stuff.

                                            Pinkie opens the door with a smile on your face. You worry she is going to make you stop or something, but instead she just pushes a barrel into the room with her rump. “Eat more if you can, but you should reeeeeeaaaaaaally stop to take a drink!” She winked and left, closing the door behind her. You sit on the bed again, opting to rub your belly and let it settle a bit before eating more. The bed makes a worrying creak and you swear you heard a crack or two, but it manages to hold up. Something to drink sounded like a great idea, anyway.

                                            The barrel had a long plastic tube in it. You stick it in your mouth, and begin to suck. The sweet taste hits your mouth. It’s cider! Even more sugar is the last thing you need right now, but you don’t care. You can outdrink even Rainbow Dash you love it so much. After drinking what feels like half the barrel, you let out a soft belch and caress your belly. It’s time for more dessert.


                                            “So… much….” Caramel mutters, licking as much grease and condiments off his fat cheeks as he can reach. Chocolate had won the contest again, owing to his size and capacity advantage, but Caramel really gave him a run for his money. 120 hayburgers, three pounds of fries, and four gallons of milkshake filled his overstuffed stomach, a new record for the colt. Caramel slowly slumped out of his chair and waddled at a lumbering pace to his bed. He felt even more stuffed than he did after the contest earlier that day, but was surprised at how much he could fit in his stomach. Chocolate ate triple what Caramel did in every regard, and even now was intent on sucking the milkshake machine dry. The gigantic stallion’s equally massive belly looked just as strained as Caramel’s was, and he was clearly lost in a world of gluttony at the moment. The couch he sat on, which he filled out completely, was visibly bending and audibly groaning under his weight.

                                            Caramel flopped on his bed, hearing a number of cracks from the frame. He had replaced the broken frame with a spare from his closet while Tomato was frying up dinner, and the spare was already breaking under his weight. His belly gurgled, digesting away the greasy overindulgence contained within. Somehow, he felt like he could handle a little more. His horn lit up, and some cabinets on the wall opened. A lone bag of chips floated out, opened, and landed by his face. “I guess I should go snack shopping again tomorrow.” He murmured, disappointed that a single party size bag of chips was all he had left. It took him no time at all to empty it out.

                                            Tomato Cherry entered the room, swaying her hips in a sultry manner while dressed in lingerie. The black contrasted nicely with her tan fur, and  “Mom, is that- MMPH!” He couldn’t see over his big blue belly, but a big cupcake was just shoved into his mouth cut him off before he could finish his sentence. A large selection of pastries, snack cakes, pies, and other sweets from Sugarcube Corner were laid all around his head, and a collar was placed on his fat neck. The magic aura surrounding everything was a shade of yellow. His mom brought him dessert? What’s with the collar?

                                            “Eat up, little whale~” she cooed, tying a belt around the bed and around his belly. More straps followed, tying his whole body down. Brushing his light brown mane aside, she set another large cupcake right on his snoot. “My, my, how you’ve grown. The belt is already on its last loop!” She said, walking around to his rear. The second cupcake fell into Caramel’s mouth, and he instinctively began to chew it. Even more desserts began to pile around the bed, enough to fill his stomach from empty alone. “I won’t let you go until that belt around your middle breaks, so you’d best keep stuffing that chubby little face of yours.” She taunted. “Don’t worry, little whale. Mommy will do all the work down here.”

                                            Caramel’s face blushed redder than Big Macintosh. He was doing as he was told, and using his magic to stuff food into his mouth, that belt getting tighter and tighter all the way, but his mom, his own mom, she was using her tongue and hooves to excite his cock. Unbeknownst to him, Chocolate Cream was outside the open doorway staring in with a big smile on his face. ‘Just like when I was your age,’ he thought before heading with slow, heavy steps that shook the entire house, to lay in his own bed.

                                            The belt was digging painfully at his belly, and his stomach was feeling overwhelmingly full and uneasy. Nevertheless, Caramel dutifully continued binging on the food his fillyfriend loved so much. Tomato had ceased with the foreplay, and climbed on top of the oversized colt. Hugging his belly with her forelegs, she slid her pussy up and down his cock at a steadily increasing rate. Her moans increased in pitch and volume in tandem with her movements. Creaks, groans, and cracks emanated from the bed. Gurgles and groans emanated from Caramel’s belly. The young colt found himself moaning in pleasure, muffled by a constant stream of desserts. The collar around his neck and the belt around his belly began to fray and break under the strain. He couldn’t hold back any more. He stuffed food into his belly at a faster and faster rate, not caring if he was already fit to burst. His cock was pulsing and twitching, being groped and squeezed by his own mother’s vagina. With a shrill shriek of pleasure, he and Tomato climaxed at the same time, pumping her womb and belly full of cum. The belt around Caramel’s gut burst open, and the bed frame gave out, sending the couple to the floor.

                                            As Caramel’s cock returned to its flaccid state, he could feel his mother’s tongue again, lapping up the leftover cum. She stumbled over to his side again, almost stepping on a pie. Her face was contorted in a cross-eyed look of bliss. Her belly caught Caramel’s eye – it was pumped so full of cum it looked like Sweetie Belle’s belly. Her purple mane was a mess. She leaned over to kiss Caramel’s cheek. “My, my, little whale. You’re even better than your father! Rest now, little whale, save the rest of these for later. I have to figure out how to make room for your father next~” She trailed off, walking away. Caramel felt so bloated and confused his mind couldn’t process it all. All the desserts directly surrounding his face were in his stomach, which was now in a pretty severe pain. With a sigh, and a conveniently timed popping of that collar, he undid the remaining straps with what little spare mana he had left, having used most of it to soothe his aching stomach, and fell fast asleep.


                                            You find yourself in a similar predicament. Nearly all of the food Pinkie left in your room is in your stomach. About a quarter of the total haul remains, and you can’t reach it. You’re laying on your back in your now-broken bed, your green belly looking a familiar shade of red. Your black mane is covering half your face, and you find yourself unable to move. That cider helped you eat more, but at the same time filled you up even further. That familiar feeling is coming back, and there’s no Caramel there to help you with it. Just then, the door to your room opens and you hear a familiar giggle. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to finish that much!” It’s Pinkie. You realize what angle you’re laying at, and what’s pointing directly at the doorway.  The hoofboard can’t cover it up with the bed being broken. Pinkie giggles, then touches your belly. “Oooooh, too bad, there isn’t any space left in there. Maybe I can help you with your other problem!”

                                            Your face flushes bright red. Her fat cheeks are squishing into your fatter thighs, and her mouth, her tongue, they’re in your vagina! It’s not an unwelcome sensation to you, new as it is. You’re already moaning in pleasure, as her tongue tickles your clitoris. She pulls her face out, and you feel some odd, sticky substance pour into your vagina. Back in her face goes, cheeks squishing against your thighs again. This process repeats, with a different substance poured in each time. Pinkie is dumping everything from sugar and maple syrup into pie filling and heavy cream into your cunt and eating it. It feels so… good! You hope nobody else is home, because you realize you’ve been moaning in pleasure rather loudly the whole time. Finally, you cum, dumping sweet squash soup into Pinkie’s maw, which she swallows without question.

                                            With a giggle, she hops on top of your belly, holding all the remaining desserts you couldn’t finish in her forehooves. She drops them next to your face and smiles, the sweet concoctions and cum still adorning her face. You’d think over 400 pounds of blubber on top of a painfully overstretched stomach would hurt, but it’s like she isn’t even there. “Here’s some snacks for when you get hungry. Don’t forget you have school tomorrow! Say hi to your coltfriend for me!” Off she bounces, gently closing the door behind her.

                                            She’s not your biological mother, but it still feels weird. You groan a little. Your belly is still way overstrained, yet you’re tempted by the food to keep eating. ‘Oh man, how am I going to deal with school like this?’ You think, prodding your belly. You’ve never been ashamed of your obesity, but you somehow gained 10 pounds in one meal, and who knows how much this little binge will add? Your bed’s broken under your own weight from just sitting and eating on it. The desks at school are smaller and weaker. You need more snacks and a bigger lunch to make it through the day. Walking to school is going to be even more of a chore. You stuff a cupcake into your mouth, forgetting for a moment you already feel like you’re about to burst – in fact, you feel fuller after Pinkie ate you out, somehow. Why did being fat have to be so hard?

                                            You wake up to the sound of a rumbling belly, and your alarm goes off right afterwards. Moaning, you pull yourself to your hooves. Everything feels jigglier, and you feel heavier. As you get up, complaining to yourself how much harder it is to get out of bed when it’s on the ground, you notice all the desserts that were left on the floor for you were gone. You didn’t remember waking up for your midnight snack. Sleep eating? Is that a thing now?

                                            You’re definitely fatter than you were yesterday, that’s for sure. Your doorframe, which usually was only a problem for Pinkie’s fat ass, brushed against your thighs as you stepped out. Despite everything, you’re hungry. Real hungry. You want to eat right now, but you know with how much you eat, you can barely walk to school, let alone do more physically challenging things than moving your hooves in a straight line. The shower was hard to get into and out of as it was, with your belly getting in the way. A quick shower, quick dry, and clean teeth later, you sigh, and take a good look in the mirror.

                                            It’s been a year since you came here as a filly. You’re eight now, and based on everything you’ve learned in school here, you can estimate that to being roughly the equivalent of a 15 year old in human years. In that year, you haven’t grown an inch, as far as height is concerned. Your ass, which sticks outwards and upwards further than even your belly does, makes you look taller, but you’re the exact same 3’9” tall you were a year ago. With the way your weight is piling on, you’re approaching the possibility of being twice as wide as you are tall. Why aren’t you getting taller?

                                            You study your form in the mirror. You look similar to how you did last week, just overall a bit bigger. Your belly now hangs down all the way to your hooves on an empty stomach, and sticks out a little bit further to the sides. Your thighs press together all the way down to the knee joint, and both sets of legs are touching your belly at all times. Your thighs and plot combined bulge out to the sides a good four inches further than your belly on each side, and sticks out far enough you bump into walls while backing up real easily. The tube of fat surrounding your face is a bit bigger as well, and melds even more with your blubbery neck. You wiggle your hips, and smirk at the jiggling your belly and rear do. You wipe your mane with your hoof, pulling it out of your eyes. Some of it comes right back.

                                            “I’ve gotten fatter, a lot fatter. My mane and tail have grown out, a lot. I’m growing in every way but height.” You sigh again. Being this gluttonous and prone to weight gain is only going to be harder if you’re this short. You step forward onto the large scale by the mirror, watching yourself jiggle hypnotically from the modicum of effort. A small magically powered screen on the mirror lights up and starts counting up the numbers. You look down to see if you can read the display on the scale itself, but you can barely make it out. Looking back up, you find yourself shocked enough to raise an eyebrow and tilt your head, but not much else. 340 pounds. You gained twenty pounds yesterday. That’s a lot, even for you. You went an entire year gaining just over 2/3 of a pound on a purely mathematical average, not accounting for your incrementally increasing intake, and suddenly you put on an eighth of that entire year’s bulk in one day? Who could you even ask about this? The thought comes to your mind that you’re now only about a hundred pounds shy of your adoptive mother’s weight, while being almost a whole foot shorter.


                                            You make your way downstairs for breakfast. You’re pretty winded by the time you reach the bottom. You’ve been able to handle your weight just fine up until now, and you’re certain it’s just the fact you put on 20 in one day that’s giving you trouble. If you put it on at a normal pace, you’d be just fine. You notice Pinkie made a bigger breakfast than usual, and all of the extra food was by your seat specifically. You shovel down the food exactly as you usually do, and have no issue with being fed more. Why would you? You’re a growing filly, and you like it. You can’t help but wonder if this entire time, you were being groomed to gain weight. It’s not like you were forced to. In fact, from your very first meal at the Cheese Pie house, you engorged your then-small filly belly to just about the same level of fullness you do now. It just seems like you’re being encouraged along the way. You like fat, you like being fat, you like overeating and getting fatter, and you now apparently have a coltfriend that’s just the same as you.

                                            You stifle a small belch as you polish off the last crumb of your breakfast delights, patting your engorged belly. “She takes after you, m’love!” Cheese chuckled to Pinkie, heading out the door for work. “M-mom?” You stutter, blushing slightly. She looks at you and smiles. “Yes?” “I uh, I’m kinda… still hungry. Pinkie frowns slightly, and puts a hoof to her flabby chin. “What about the leftovers from yesterday?” “All gone,” you reply sheepily. “Weeeeeell, I can’t really make anything more for you without cutting into the store’s output, and I know you’re not going to want to go without your snacks for today… OH!” She zips to the fridge, shuffles some things around, and zips back. Before you is a big mug, a huge mug. It’s an entire gallon of milk, sweetened with an overabundance of caramel and chocolate sweetener. In a split second, she’s back with a second one. You've already chugged down a significant amount of the first mug, and are really starting to feel the fullness catch up to you.

                                            Although you want to finish both delectable mugs before you feel too full to, you pause to ask. “Wait, what about lunch?” Your belly gurgles, and you take that as a sign to finish off your gluttonous binge before it’s too late. “Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetie. You’re getting so big, carrying a heavy lunch bag on top of your snacks and schoolwork is going to be too much.” You raise an eyebrow, deep into the second mug. “Your coltfriend’s parents opened up a branch right across from the school. You and Caramel can get lunch there! Maybe an after-school snack too, he he!” Pinkie had a slight ulterior motive here. If you were stuffed before you got home, you’d eat less of the overproduction and errors, and leave more for her and Lil’ Cheese.

                                            You stifle another small belch. Two gallons of super sweet milk sit on top of an overindulgent feast already sitting in your enormous belly. You regret asking for more, as your belly hurts again. This must be how Caramel felt after his victory lap yesterday. You lean back to try to open up more room in your belly, and find yourself on the floor. Pinkie giggles, and helps you to your hooves. You didn’t notice over your belly’s own noises, but the chair had been creaking and groaning all morning and finally just gave out. You and Pinkie sit on the main couch, hearing it groan under your combined weight. Lil’ Cheese is off in the recliner resting on his own overindulgence. You notice your hips are touching Pinkie’s. You’re both taking up half the couch each.

                                            “You’re getting so big. I’m impressed! You’re gonna outgrow me before you finish Cheerilee’s school! I’ll make sure you have a new chair and bed before you get home.” You blush again. So young, yet you outweigh all but the largest of normal fully-grown ponies. “Do you think I’ll ever get taller? You ask, worried about your future mobility. At this rate, when you hit 400 your belly’s already going to be on the ground at all times.

                                            Pinkie looks down at you reassuringly. “Of course, silly! You’re just a late bloomer. Rainbow Dash was short like you for the longest time, and now she’s just a teensy bit shorter than the rest of us! Just keep making sure you’re getting enough to eat, and you’ll be fine. Let’s just rest our bellies and minds for a bit before you have to head to school, kay?” You nod. ‘Yeah, growing outward,’ you chuckle to yourself.


                                            The trek to school is as agonizing as ever. You’re stuffing snacks in your mouth along the way, huffing and puffing between bites as you drag your belly along. Lil’ Cheese, by comparison, is trotting along at a steady jogging pace. That little butterball is plenty fat and stuffed, but managed to inherit some of Pinkie’s reality-bending tendencies, albeit at a lesser strength. Exhausted, you’ve finally made it to the school. Your hips give you some trouble squeezing through the door. There’s still some time before class starts, thankfully, so the students are just chattering and hanging out while Cheerilee pours over her text books. Despite your desire to flop down and rest your sore legs, you force yourself to slowly and carefully slide into your seat. Most of your ass bulges over the sides of it, and your belly is pressing hard against the desk surface. To your right is where Caramel normally sits, but he’s not here yet.

                                            You look at the clock. Five minutes to class start, and you’ve finally caught your breath. The door swings open, and a very rotund colt enters, struggling to squeeze his gut through the doorway. He made more of a commotion than you, and managed to catch Cheerilee’s attention. “You made it just in time, Caramel!” She says, masking her astonishment at his sheer mass. He makes his way to his seat. “S-sorry, my mom w-wanted - huff – me to have breakfast at the – pant – new shop next door, and m-made me – wheeze – test everything on the menu.” His belly was clearly stuffed to the brim with food, but looking at the rest of his features, he put on a lot of weight. A LOT of weight. His butt was much bigger, his tube of face-surrounding fat was much bigger, and his thighs were starting to remind you of your own. He struggled to squeeze into his desk as carefully as possible as it gave off a worrying creak.

                                            Caramel looks over at you and smiles, blushing a little. “Looking good, big butt.” You return both his gaze and his blush. “Y-you too, gargantuan gut.” He looks you over, ignoring your clearly stuffed belly, and notices you look bigger. He’s especially staring at your rear. “How much do you weigh now, big butt?” He asks, not taking his eyes off your succulent rear end. “340. How about you, blubber belly?” You reply. You can’t help but stare at his belly. It’s clearly stuffed to the brim with food, but you can tell its size when empty has grown significantly too. “It’s probably even higher after breakfast, but I’m up to 350.”

                                            You blush and bite your lip. He gained twice as much weight as you in one day? “I asked a couple of my thin friends to ask around after school. They think my mom put something in those Princess Special burgers yesterday that did this. We both eat a lot, but there’s no way we put on this much weight naturally in one day.” You nod. You can’t help but think he looks really good with this added weight. Maybe yesterday afternoon’s events are influencing you, but he’s really looking aesthetic, and by the look on his face, he thinks the same about you.

                                            “Class starts in one minute!” Cheerilee announced. Everyone in class started wrapping up their conversations and getting ready. “Wanna go to that new restaurant for lunch?” You ask. Caramel pats his belly, sighs, and looks back at you with as blank an expression as possible. “You know I can’t say ‘no’ to that.” He smiles and looks back toward the front of the class. “Let’s go after school, too. My friends should be back with news by then, and there’s some stuff I want to talk about.” “It’s a date!” You proclaim. The two of you blush, hard. Only after the words left your mouth did you realize what you said.


                                            Your favorite time of the school day arrived: lunch time. Despite your sneaky snacking, both your and Caramel’s bellies managed to revert to their normal sizes by this time. Despite his height advantage, Caramel’s extra thirty pounds and more masculine, belly-centric shape left his belly much like yours, drooping down to the top of his hooves. He’s struggling to move at a decent pace even more than you. Unicorns traded physical strength for magical powers, after all. The two of you reached the other side of the street, gazing upon the brand new and Glowy “Cherry Cream” sign. The name, a combination of Caramel’s parents’ names, would better fit an ice cream parlor. There were talks between the parents of adding ice cream to the menu and expanding the chain’s horizons, but they were still in the testing phases on that. Caramel Sweets and Chocolate Cream were of course the primary testers.

                                            Entering the restaurant, the difference in design from the other restaurant on the other side of town was plain to see: it was the same aesthetic and style, but everything was bigger. As much as you and Caramel liked sitting next to each other, you could actually fit on opposite sides of the booth and look each other in the face as you talked. Even the waitress was bigger than at the other place.

                                            The large earth pony mare sauntered over, her large rump swaying with each step. Her belly hung down to her knees, and threatened to pop that yellow apron she was wearing right open, and her rear could easily fill two chairs. She wore a creamy white coat of body fur, and a purplish-pink mane, adorned with curls. She reminded you a bit of Sweetie Belle, just slightly older, slightly fatter, and without the lighter pink streaks in her mane. She introduced herself as Cream Pie (no relation to Pinkie’s family), and took your orders.

                                            Caramel ordered five triple hayburgers, an XXL order of hayfries, and a large chocolate milkshake. You order five triple hayburgers as well, substitute an order of mozzarella sticks for the fries, and order the supersize caramel peanut butter milkshake. “Big eaters, I like it. Don’t worry about payment, Mrs. Cherry says anything’s on the house for the two of you. I’d appreciate a tip, though, WINK!”

                                            It came as a surprise to you, but when the food arrived, everything was bigger than expected. The burgers were an inch wider in diameter and an inch taller than usual. The mozzarella sticks were breadstick-sized. The fries came in a big two-pound bucket. The large milkshake was an entire half-gallon, and your supersized one came in a five gallon bucket. Caramel looked surprised too. “When I ate one of everything on the menu this morning, they were normal proportions!” The waitress smiled. “After you left this morning, Mrs. Cherry told us to increase the portion size of everything. I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable!”

                                            You didn’t have much time to talk. School lunch period only gave you an hour to eat, and there was so much food to binge on. The food didn’t have the weird feeling in it that yesterday’s lunch had. Still, you were feeling pretty full by the time you finished your hayburgers and mozzarella sticks, and you had a massive tub of thick, creamy caramel-filled goodness made only with the finest of heavy cream to finish. The waitress came back and asked if either of you two gluttons wanted any more before the expected lunch rush came in. Caramel ordered a supersized fudge milkshake. “Race you to the bottom!” He exclaimed. He clearly stretched his stomach out considerably yesterday, but sweets were your strong suit.

                                            Once the five gallon bucket of thickness came out, you started to chug your respective shakes. Both of your bellies were visibly distended, but not nearly as much as had happened so often recently. The bellies bulged out further and further as more and more thick, syrupy goodness flowed down your greedy gullets. That familiar shade of red and tinge of pain started kicking in. With a large belch, muffled by the now-empty bucket, you set that bucket down and put one hoof on your engorged belly, one on your forehead. That’s quite the brain freeze. Half a minute later, Caramel finishes off his own, following suit with his own hooves. Both of you are quite stuffed, and there’s just a little time left to rest before you have to return to school. The waitress came back, with two large peanut butter pies. “The boss told me to give you one of these each before you go. Enjoy!”

                                            Caramel licks his lips. You feel absolutely stuffed, but he still has room for more. “Race ya to the finish!” You say this time, eager to score another victory. Within not even a minute, the deep dish, 18” diameter peanut butter pie is in your now painfully engorged belly. It takes Caramel another minute to finish his own. He finally looks sated. “I see why you want our next contest to be dessert.” He chuckled.


                                            Back at school, you both got reprimanded for being five minutes late. That pie, the recovery time, and the need to drag your ground-touching bloated bellies across the ground put you both behind schedule.

                                            Caramel nearly broke his desk, and that was the highlight of the rest of the school day. Walking home, you stop by Cherry Cream again, as planned. It’s a little busier this time around, but you and Caramel end up in the same booth. You ordered the same meals as before, but added the pies to the list automatically this time. With a lot more time to spare, you and Caramel take your time eating, and hold a conversation between bites. “Sorry I was a little late. It wasn’t just because I’m too fat for my own strength. I met up with those friends I mentioned earlier, and they let me in on the secret.” You lean in, your belly squishing into the table. “My mom commissioned old Zecora to develop a potion to slip into those Princess Specials we ate yesterday.” “A potion?” You ask. “Basically, it increases the stretchiness of the stomach, boosts appetite and weight gain to extreme levels, which is why we, um, you know.” “Ate ourselves into a food coma and fucked each other silly?” You interrupt.

                                            You start feeling that tingly feeling again. You can tell Caramel is feeling it too. You both start shoveling food into your mouths, filling your bellies full with the main course and sides, and polishing off the pies at the end. All that’s left is the milkshakes. You pat your much-fuller belly and notice the feeling is even stronger now. “Just as I suspected,” you ponder. “The fuller we get-” “-the hornier we get,” Caramel finishes your sentence for you. “The other effects wore off, but our sexual desires clearly haven’t.”

                                            You squirm in your seat a little. Your thighs, rear, teats, and vagina squishing together gave you a pretty decent feeling, and was the closest you could really get to touching yourself. This was just your luck, wasn’t it? You got too fat to reach your vagina with your own hooves by the time your sexuality kicked in. You probably would have ended up getting fat no matter what family you were assigned, but you might have been able to pleasure yourself if you lived with someone other than the Cheese Pies. Well, maybe not if you ended up with Caramel’s family, but still. ‘I should try to buy some toys for when Caramel isn’t around,’ you think to yourself. Caramel has it easy. Not only are his sex organs external, but he can also use magic to pleasure himself. Why did you have to be an earth pony? Then again, the added strength made it easier to carry your weight. Why did Twilight assign you to one of the most fattening families around anyways?

                                            You’re snapped out of your wandering mind once again by the sound of something heavy being set on the table, followed by a second clang. Two very large gallon tubs of chocolate fudge ice cream sat on the table, so smothered in a mixture of caramel and peanut butter you can’t even see the ice cream beneath. Cream Pie is huffing and puffing a little. Her belly is visibly distended, and the tightener string on her apron had apparently snapped. “Congratulations, foals, you also get to, phew, beta test our new dessert offerings! Oops-” She turns around to pick up some napkins that she dropped. While Caramel’s distracted by the new serving of food, she bends down, her rather sizable plot directly in your field of view. She’s holding the pose longer than it should take to pick up a couple napkins, and you just can’t take your eyes off that big, round, soft plot. Her tail swishes to one side, and you can see her vulva wink at you. She turns her head back, locking eyes with you. She wears a smile on her face, and gives you the other kind of wink as your face flushes red.

                                            She stands back up and faces your table normally. “Mind if I sit for a spell, miss?” She asks. She looks tired, and you know the kind of fatigue that kind of fullness brings. Nodding, you slide over in the booth as far as you can, bringing your ice cream with you. You still have that milkshake to finish, and now there’s this huge thing as well? Cream Pie slides in next to you. She’s a rather hefty mare, even more so with that stuffed belly of hers, but you’re heavier and bigger in every way but height than her. Even still, her hip, which you had just admired so well, was squishing into yours, and her other hip is hanging slightly off the edge of the seat.

                                            Cream giggles. “I guess you don’t realize how big somepony really is until you try to fit in a booth with them!” Caramel pulls his fat face out of his ice cream. “Yeah, isn’t she great?” Cream leans back and rubs her sore belly. She clearly was no stranger to the fat lifestyle, but wasn’t exactly used to the kind of gluttony you and Caramel lived every meal by. “How are you liking the job so far, Cream?” Caramel asks. He seems to be very familiar with her. “Oh, I’m grateful to your mom and papa, Carrie!” Cream’s nickname for Caramel wasn’t nearly as good as yours. She went on to explain to you that she lost her job at Donut Joe’s in Canterlot for stealing too much of the stock, and how Chocolate Cream, who found her walking dejectedly out of the shop, hired her on the spot. You never got to meet Chocolate Cream in person, but based on what you’ve heard from Caramel, you’re surprised he even made it to Canterlot. He was one of the fattest ponies in Equestria, and was supposedly barely mobile.

                                            “I enjoy the free food and all, but I wasn’t expecting to have to taste test so much while still being the head waitress. I’ve eaten nothing but ice cream all day!” She moaned, holding her belly. “You’ll get used to it.” You shrug, stuffing a comically huge scoop of ice cream into your mouth. A fount of ecstasy shoots through your body. Caramel blushes, as your face resembles so strongly the one you made when he ejaculated in you yesterday. “I suppose you’re right. You two piggies would know, after all.” Cream giggles, and runs a hoof down your thigh. Oh god, your thigh. It feels so sensitive. “It’s so weird, I was always the fat filly back in Canterlot, but now that I’m here, I’m outsized, outweighed, and outeaten by two foals half my age! Ha… Say, would you two be willing to help me in the back when you’re done?”

                                            Caramel lets out a very un-mannerly belch. While you’ve been experiencing bliss from the ice cream that feels like it was made just for your taste buds and dealing with this young mare feeling you up and telling her life story, he’s been going to town on the rest of his meal. His belly has the slightest shade of red to it. “Mom wants me to head home actually, dad and I have to test some new concoctions from her.” You feel a hoof prod your belly, snapping you out of your ice cream bliss. To your surprise, the bowl is empty, and you’ve been chugging down a good chunk of your milkshake without noticing. “What about you, Piggy Pie?” She was surprisingly close to your name, despite not knowing it. “I usually help Pinkie Pie at Sugarcube Corner, but I suppose I could help here tonight.” Cream’s ears perk up. “Perfect!”


                                            Cream takes you into the back room, next to the kitchen. The three chefs running the place were rather hefty stallions, easily weighing more than Caramel did. Like Pinkie always said, ‘never trust a skinny chef’. By that logic, these guys were very trustworthy. The youngest of the three stops you and Cream in your tracks, stepping over to the sink unexpectedly. Your snoot runs smack-dab into his belly. It’s so soft and cuddly. “Oops! Sorry! Hey, who’s this not-so-little filly, Cream Pie?” Cream blushes. This must be her coltfriend. “Grape Heart, meet Chocolate Pie, the fattest filly in Ponyville. Uh, no relation. She’s helping me with the beta testing for a little bit.” Grape steps aside, accidentally brushing the other side of his big belly across your snoot. You’re blushing again. “Great, you look like you could use the help. Well, gotta get ready for the dinner rush!”

                                            The testing room consists of a bed, a couch, and a food storage area. The freezer was packed full of ice cream, while the fridge and heat room were empty. Ice cream seemed to be the only thing in testing right now.  “You like ‘em big, don’cha?” Your ears perk up. “Wha?” Cream giggles. “I saw the way you blushed when you bumped into my coltfriend’s belly. He’s mine, remember. Lay down on the bed, and we’ll get started.” The bed? Weird, but okay. Your belly’s already pretty stuffed, and relaxing would feel pretty nice. The bed creaks under your weight as you climb in and roll on your back. Cream stuffs a hose in your mouth. “I’m going to start pumping ice cream through. Raise one hoof if tastes good, two if it’s bad. Remember to swallow and keep taking breaths when you can.”

                                            You’ve heard of forcefeeding with a hose, but this is the first time you’ve experienced it yourself. This would be better on an empty stomach, but you’re keeping up with the flow just fine. It doesn’t last long at all, and isn’t nearly as much ice cream as you expected, just a gallon each of strawberry, apple, and cherry flavored ice cream. You rub your much fuller belly, feeling your meal from earlier digesting away while this new, cold treat sits on top. You move to take the hose out of your mouth, but Cream stops you. “Wait, we’re not finished yet. There’s one more flavor I think you’ll really enjoy.” With a series of beeps, a familiar taste hits your mouth. It’s that chocolate peanut butter ice cream before. The thick flavors of caramel and fudge follow, beginning to intermingle with the rest. You’re returned to that familiar feeling of bliss. It’s so good!

                                            You can’t help yourself. Your belly is feeling quite packed, but you want more, more, more! You feel your vagina moisten, the vulva winking. Your face is in that familiar pose, and your face is beet-red with blushing. More, more, more, bigger, bigger, bigger! The flow stops just as your belly feels like it’s about to burst. You glance over to where Cream Pie is sitting, and pop the hose out of your mouth. Her forehoof is sliding back and forth over her clitoris, and she’s biting her lower lip. Instinctively, you lick your lips, being so used to normal feeding methods that would leave food to mop up on your mouth. A devious grin appears on her face, and you realize you may have sent the wrong signal. Before you can gather the strength to say something, Cream pulls some objects out of a bag in the heat storage room. She disappears behind your plot, and you feel yourself being dragged toward the edge of the bed.

                                            Your face winces as you feel something insert into your rectum. It’s buzzing. Something familiar feeling is inserted into your vagina, and you grunt and groan as it goes in. It’s much bigger than Caramel’s, and is a really tight squeeze. It too begins to buzz, and slowly starts moving in and out. Cream walks back toward your face, drool dripping down her double chin. Your face is as conflicted as your feelings. You’re in that weird place, a mixture of agonizing pain and insurmountable pleasure. “First time? At least with the triple threat. I won’t blame you if you pass out.” She climbs onto the bed with you. It’s groaning and cracking under the strain of well over 600 pounds sitting on it. The bed is a long one, with enough space for her to lay above you. She’s crouching, however, with her tremendous rear hovering over you. You can see where the folds of fat on her thighs squish against the rear, and your breathing steadily increases. Something drips on your face. It’s sweet. “Get ready, little filly.” Cream mutters.

                                            Your nostrils are pressing against her teats, but have enough room to breathe. Your mouth is buried inside her vagina. Sweet tasting juices keep dripping, touching your tongue. Her thighs and ass cheeks are pressing against your blubbery face cheeks. She begins rocking back and forth, her clitoris occasionally bumping into your tongue. You remember what Pinkie did to you last night, and do your best to copy that. Your mouth is full of and coated with sticky sweets, and it gives an odd texture to her marehood. She seems to be enjoying the feeling, and is moaning quite loudly.

                                            You’re in total shock. You’re moving through instinct and memory. You’re in a total sensory overload. Cream Pie reaches her climax and ejaculates a full load into your mouth, and you swallow it without thinking. You remember how full your stomach was, and how much you just swallowed. Your belly has never been in more pain. You begin to convulse, your flabby body shaking everywhere. With a loud SPLAT and a louder CRACK, you lose consciousness.


                                            You find yourself in the same room come morning. You feel fine, a little hungry even. Nothing’s broken or burst as far as you can tell. You roll over and find your belly contacting the cold concrete floor. What a relief, the only things that broke were the bed, and the only forms of virginity you had left. The place looked like it got cleaned up too. That old familiar feeling creeps up on you as you struggle to pull yourself to your hooves. You put on weight again, a whole new layer of softness padding out your already massive body. ‘Another inch or two rounder, not one inch taller.’ You think to yourself. The clock on the wall reads 6 in the morning. There’s a note on the couch. You waddle over there and hold it up in your hoof.

                                            “I might have gone a teensy bit overboard last night. Let’s keep that whole thing a secret, okay? (By the way you’re REALLY good, best oral I ever received!) I called your mother and told you you’d be spending the night here because you ate yourself into a food coma, and she said she’d tell the school you’re sick. Oh, she also said ‘that’s my filly!’, haha!”

                                            “Help yourself to some ice cream if-WHEN you’re hungry again. Eat as much as you want! Please. Ice cream gives me a tummy ache. The remote for the feeding tube and the TV are both on the couch. Try to make it home around dinner time, though. My boss says Caramel wants to eat dinner at your place tonight.”

                                            “Ps. That ice cream is going right to your butt and thighs!

                                            Pss. It’s a little out of the way, and I know you’re not one for walking, but stop by the store with the purple and black heart sign. You really liked the ‘toys’ I used last night, and they have some fun things a filly of your size and stamina can use more easily!

                                            Psss. We should do this again!”


                                            You slump into the couch, and it gives off a groan just like the bed did. Despite the nature of this place, the furniture in the back room must really not be built to hold 340 pounds… or whatever you weigh now. As long as you don’t have another 300 pounds bouncing on top of you, you should be fine.

                                            The couch is much smaller than the one at home. It’s only a two-seater with thicker than normal arm rests, and you feel your thighs pressing against both sides. Your belly gurgles. With a shrug, you pop the hose into your mouth. Your belly wants food? You can’t exactly deny it. If only you had some of those ‘toys’ form last night to help alleviate your boredom.

                                            The clock ticks by, hour by hour. The ice cream storage gets smaller and smaller as your belly grows bigger and bigger. This felt way better than last night, going at it from an empty stomach. The strawberry ice cream runs out before you’re even slightly full. By the time you finish the apple flavor, it’s just a little past 7, and you’re at a minimal level of fullness, basically what your packed school lunches used to get you to. You decide to grab a pen and paper, and write down your thoughts on the flavors. ‘May as well get something productive done today. Strawberry flavor: Tastes great, needs more cream. Heavy cream. Lots of it. Apple: tastes good, but could use improvement. Try adding lots of caramel and cinnamon sugar. Think: Apple Pie.’ Your belly gurgles, still hungry for more. What you wouldn’t give to stuff yourself into another food coma with apple pie right now.  Up next is cherry flavor.

                                            8:15. You’re usually at school with a stuffed belly by now. Instead, your stomach is at its breaking point again, and you’ve just polished off the much larger than you anticipated supply of cherry ice cream. ‘Cherry: Really, really good. Triple the sugar. Quadruple it. Add heavy cream and thicken it up.’ You huff and put down the pad and paper, popping the hose out of your mouth. There was a massive supply of the ice cream that quickly became your favorite, and was outright orgasmic. You need to let your groaning belly rest for a bit before you get back to it, though. Your engorged belly is blocking part of the screen, but you can see enough of the show to see you aren’t interested in it. After flipping a few channels, you find the adult section. There’s a channel that just happens to be dedicated to porn featuring mares and stallions much like yourself: very on the heavy side.

                                            9:00. One of the chefs stops in and notices you sitting on the couch. He leaves two dozen donuts, all cream-filled, and a gallon of coffee. More accurately, it’s a couple ounces of coffee, a couple shots of espresso, and a mixture of heavy cream and sugar. This is what Cream Pie usually has, but he forgot she had the day off to run errands. “A big cutie like you needs to eat, after all,” he says, blushing. He’s a little bit older and a little bit shorter than Grape Heart was, and had probably 60 pounds on him. He looks kind of fruity, like he’d be more into colts than you. Nevertheless, you give him a sly look, and eat a donut as seductively as possible.

                                            If that bed wasn’t already broken, you get the feeling it would have snapped as soon as he got on top of you. There’s easily at least 800 pounds of blubber between the two of you. In between each slow, heavy, methodical thrust of his massive cock into your overstretched pussy, he stuffs another donut into your mouth. You chew and swallow seductively, leaving just a little bit of cream on your mouth and opening wide for more. Once the donuts are gone, he makes you chug the coffee. The buzz of caffeine hits you hard. You stick your tongue out seductively, treating the cream around your mouth like it’s a stallion’s ‘cream’. He can’t take it anymore. He humps harder and faster, harder and faster for a whole 5 seconds before he sprays his seed inside of you. It feels like so much, and you swear your belly bulged an entire inch further outward. He pulls out, and makes a dash for your other side. A pony that large never moves that fast. Taking you by complete surprise, your mouth and throat are stuffed with his cock, and after a few seconds of thrusting against your tongue, he shoots a second load, bloating your belly even further outwards. He kisses you on the forehead and tells you you’re great, and trots off to the work line.


                                            10:00. You’re in the bathroom. You’ve relived yourself, and are now cleaning up in a nice, warm, Jacuzzi bath. The jets feel so good against your jiggling blubber. You lean back and relax, rubbing your still-full belly. You’ve fucked four ponies in less than two days. You’re such a slut. You love it. It feels so good. You want to get stuffed until you can’t move, and fucked as hard as possible. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Caramel to use that.

                                            11:00. You’re admiring your rear in the mirror. You can feel the new fat piling on. Those thighs… you can really see what Cream Pie liked about them. You catch a glimpse of that dildo from last night.

                                            12:00. This is the most exercise you’ve ever attempted. You’re trying to self-service with that dildo, slowly sliding up and down the silicon shaft while your entire body shakes. You’re sweating like crazy, barely able to keep a steady breathing rate. It’s only been five minutes.

                                            12:05. You’re slumped on the couch, exhausted. You finally managed to find the switch Cream must have used to make it work on auto pilot, but the batteries are low after last night’s fun so it’s thrusting is as lazy and lethargic as you are. Your belly has plenty of undigested ice cream still filling it, but digestion gurgles and hunger gurgles sound enough alike, right? It’s time for more.

                                            2:00. You’re in bliss again. As slow and lazy as it is, that dildo tickling your nethers while tremendous amounts of sickeningly sweet ice cream pours into your stomach. Your belly is distended near-capacity, but you’re trying something different this time. You keep stopping for a minute, letting your belly rest and digest, then resuming the flow.

                                            3:00. You whimper slightly. You’ve been topping your belly up to maximum capacity for almost three hours straight, and now that ice cream you orgasmically enjoy is all gone. Putting the hose and remote away, you pull out that piece of paper again, marking down one last note. “CCPBF: Perfect.” You’re too lazy to write out the whole expanded acronym. You’re normally out of school and on the way home by now, but you… can’t move. Without the rhythmic flow of ice cream into your stomach, you finally realize just how full you are. Even if you get to this point nearly every single meal, it still comes as a slight surprise to you just how painfully stretched your stomach is, and how much food you’ve grown to be able to pack away. The dildo ran out of power and slid out, so you don’t even get that entertainment to enjoy. Nothing to do but watch things and digest enough food to move again, or at least for your hooves to be able to reach the ground again.

                                            You have three hours until you usually have dinner. That feels like less time than you need, though. You need to digest a lot, make your way home from nearly the same distance as your walk to and from school, and you still want to stop by that sex toy store Cream pointed out to you. While nothing compared to that day you had the enchanted burgers, you’ve been sedentary all day long, with your five minute dildo session paling in comparison to the exercise you got just walking to and from school, and you easily ingested way, way more calories than your normal intake. Lounging, binging, and fucking without ever having to go anywhere was kind of something you enjoyed and found yourself wanting more and more the fatter and less physically-capable you got, but for now, it was just going to make each walk you had to do that much more difficult, including going to your upstairs room!


                                            5:15. You fell asleep. You drag yourself off the overburdened couch and onto the floor. The way your belly is gurgling feels like you’ve digested enough to get hungry, but you feel so… fat. You can feel your belly sitting on top of your rear hooves, and that’s on an empty stomach. You waddle over to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror, and sure enough: you’re even fatter than before. Your hips get stuck in the doorway and take a bit of pressure to squeeze through, and even your face looks rounder. “Another few inches rounder, not one inch taller.” You mumble to yourself.

                                            Walking is such a chore. You’re barely halfway there, and you’re exhausted. You see the black and purple heart logo, and decide to stop inside. It’s not as far out of the way as Cream suggested, but it may as well have been. You squeeze your massive rear through the open doorway, panting and blushing. Sure enough, it was a sex shop. Cock sleeves, dildos, buttplugs, vibrators, bondage gear, everything a supercharged libido could use. “Can I help you, uh, ‘little’ miss?” A normal looking unicorn stallion asks, staring at your sheer bulk. He’s clearly not used to someone so young and short being so huge. You look up at him. “Uh, huff, C-Cream Pie sai-” “Ah, you must be the ball of blubber she was talking about. Chocolate Pie. You’re even fatter than she made you out to be. I take it you’ll be wanting the toys made for landwhales like you with mobility issues, no?”

                                            Despite the phrasing, the shop keeper wasn’t being malicious or insulting. He wasn’t exactly into fat ponies, but wasn’t one for buttering up terminology. You nod. “Th-the XXL Big Mac special, a n-normal sized buzzplug, s-sexy socks, a-a-a-and the leather set!” You stammer and nearly shout. You’re probably the youngest and fattest slut in town, or so you tell yourself, but talking sex toys with a stranger was still embarrassing. He’s taken aback, and bites his lip. “Y-you can take the Big Mac?” You don’t know if that’s amazing or not, but it’s the model Cream owned. This time, it’ll be easier for you to use, too.

                                            A discrete saddlebag is placed around your torso, sticking out almost as much as your flanks. In goes the dildo, the buzzing buttplug, a couple pairs of striped thigh-high socks in the biggest size in stock, and both a full body suit and a leather lingerie set. The stallion wraps his measuring tape around your belly, plot, and thighs a few times again, double and triple checking that he gave you the right size clothing. You place a hundred bits on the table, and he quickly counts it up. “Now ‘little’ miss, I want to warn you. We don’t do refunds on broken items. You keep stuffing that gut of yours the way you probably are, you’re gonna outgrow that suit and gear. I don’t wanna hear any bad reviews ‘cause you got too fat and tore the stuff.” You nod and head out the door, struggling to fit your hips through it again. Half an hour left to get home before dinner. You’re practically starving.


                                            You’re finally home. The front door to Sugarcube Corner is the first door you’ve seen all day you haven’t had trouble fitting through. You’re a little late, and Sweetie Belle is already on shift. You see a very, VERY rotund unicorn stallion standing at the counter. He’s positively massive. He stands nearly as tall as Cheese Sandwich, and is so fat his belly is touching the floor. His plot and thighs both look much thicker than a stallion normally would have at his size, but you can tell by his partially erect cock that he’s very much a stallion. Between your own panting and your fixation on this behemoth, you don’t hear all but the very end of their conversation. “-say hi to Princess Twilight for me!” Sweetie Belle exclaims in an excited voice.

                                            The stallion leans over the counter and you can hear a mixture of glass cracking, wood creaking, and the distinctive sound of kissing. He floats a bag of bits onto the counter with his magic. “I forget how heavy I am sometimes, h-heh. Tell Pinkie ‘sorry about the counter’.” He slumps off the now-crushed counter, and you feel your own fat jiggle from the force. “I’m staying at the castle of friendship until the weekend. Come see me before I go.”

                                            He turns around and takes a few lumbering steps that shake the entire building, towing a bag of sweets even bigger than your entire body behind him. He stops, realizing he bumped into something big, soft, and squishy, and it wasn’t himself. He looks down to find you, snoot buried in his fat blue chest, blushing beet red as you look up. He blushes too, looking down and squishing the tire of fat around his face into his blubbery neck. “Oh, s-sorry!” He exclaims, stepping back a little bit. You lock eyes, and both of you look each other’s bodies over. He’s really studying you, and you’re just in awe at his sheer mass. He’s even bigger than what Caramel describes his father as! Without realizing it, you’re swaying your rump from side to side in a sultry manner. He’s a unicorn with blue fur, though his mane is a different color and way longer. Messier, too. Could Caramel end up this big?

                                            “You are the fattest little filly I’ve ever seen.” He says, poking at your green chest before booping your snoot. “And I thought my daughter would have that title.” He leans in, pressing his fat face real close to yours. “Stop by the castle of friendship tomorrow. I’d like to get to know you better.” He laboriously waddles off, struggling to squeeze through the door, and you swear you hear the frame cracking. Sweetie Belle steps around the counter to inspect the damage, having just returned from putting the money in the back. She’s looking pudgier than ever, and her belly looks pretty stuffed.

                                            “Oh hey, Chocolate!” She says, finally noticing a source of heavy breathing that didn’t belong to that stallion. “You must have met Prince Galaxy while I was in the back. Y-you’ve been eating well!” She blushes, noticing how much you’ve grown in just the past couple days. “I could say the same for you, Sweetie Belly.” You smugly smirk, waddling over and giving her distended belly a boop. “H-hey!” She reaches over and boops you back, right in the snoot. Your nethers quiver. She whispers in your ear with a lewd tone before giving you a bite on the cheek. “Meet me at my place on Sunday night.” You’re really getting around these days. Caramel tonight, Prince Galaxy tomorrow, Sweetie Belle on Sunday… Who else is going to add to that list?


                                            You make your way to the dining room. You’re a little late, and just enough so that your family are lounging on the couches resting it off. Pinkie looks over to you. “Oh hey, Choccy! Caramel’s waiting for you at the table. You bet your big booty he’s hungry, so you better hurry!” You nod and take off at a slightly faster waddling pace.

                                            In the dining room, there’s an odd scenario. The table is just as full as it usually is for dinner, with a little extra on top. Caramel’s standing, facing away from the food. When he sees you, he rushes up and gives you a big kiss, booping your snoot with his own. “Finally!” He says, backing up a bit. “It was really hard to wait this long for you. I had to stand up and look away! What took you so long? Other than that extra fat, of course.” That last sentence was delivered with a deeply smug look spread across his fat face. You huff. It’s not like he had room to talk. He looked like he put on a few himself. You’d have to awkwardly lay on the floor to see for yourself, but you swear the tip of his belly was just about touching the floor.

                                            You leave out details like eating out Cream Pie while getting DP’d by toys and getting stuff’n’fucked by that chef, but you describe your past 24 hours to Caramel. An entire day of lounging in place and stuffing yourself into temporary immobility over and over. “Lucky!” Caramel proclaims, cradling his belly with one hoof and stuffing it with another. Despite his name, he’s not really used to ingesting a diet consisting entirely of sweets. Pinkie had set out a spread bigger than your entire family’s dinners just for the two of you, and of course you and Caramel were trying to out-eat each other. “I still had to walk around everywhere. My mom’s been force feeding me at least a dozen different new hayburger combinations all day, making me eat one as soon as room opens up in my belly. I had to keep eating in school too! Come to think of it, heading home from school and waiting for you is the only time I’ve had to digest.” You stop to place a hoof on your slightly chocolate-stained blubbery chin. “Odd, that’s what I did with the CCPBF ice cream….”

                                            Your thoughts are interrupted by your mother peeking her head in the entryway, looking slightly worried. “Choccy, Carmy’s mommy called and asked for him to stay the night here.” You smile, shoving an entire fudge cake into your mouth. He tries to ask why, but catches you sneaking that cake and moves to catch up instead. “We could only get a bed that holds 600 pounds on short notice, but I thiiiiiiiiiink you two might be a teeeeeeensy bit too heavy. If you break it, you’re sleeping on the floor until the bigger one comes in next week!”


                                            Pinkie said this was the heaviest-duty bed she could find without special ordering, but you still feel confused about it. It’s a bed for two ponies, and has a capacity of 600 pounds. Even still, you can hear it groaning and creaking under just yourself as you roll your way in. You end up on your back on the far side, your cumbersome and overstuffed belly bulging high enough into the air it’s visible through the window. “Told you I’d win.” You gloat, wincing at how engorged your stomach is. That ice cream binge must have boosted your capacity. “You can barely squeeze through your door, too!” He moans, dragging his behemoth belly between his overburdened hooves. It’s a little embarrassing, but true. Your belly got in the way this time, it’s stuffed so full, but your hips, thighs, and ass have gotten so fat you actually can’t fit through any door in your house but the main entrance.

                                            The bed creaks and groans heavily as Caramel slowly rolls himself in next to you. It’s a tight squeeze, with your flank and side bulging over one end of the bed, and his flank and side bulging over the other. Your bellies and other flanks are squishing against each other. The bed is actually bending down significantly in the center. All that fat pressing against even more fat, bellies filled to the brim- your vulva is winking and soaking wet while Caramel’s cock is fully erect and twitching. This feeling of fullness is in the most literal sense possible, orgasmic. If you two weren’t practically too full to move, you’d be going at it like animals. The most you two can do is slightly rotate toward each other and make out. You’re both so on edge, it just takes a few minutes of smacking lips and fat cheek against fat cheek to finish each other off. You both ejaculate, sex juices squirting all over the bottoms of your distended bellies and onto the other’s thighs. A few drips of cum manage to make it into your snatch.


                                            You roll back onto your back, feeling the cool breeze from the window directly hitting your gut. A few minutes are spent in silence, save for the occasional gurgle and groan. You think back to your human days. More and more of those days are disappearing from your memory, and very little is left. You liked solving mysteries, and noticing things and putting pieces together are a couple things that managed to stay part of your new life. Ever since the Running of the Leaves, you and Caramel have fallen deeply in love, and put on a lot of weight. You’ve had a lot of sex. You’ve noticed more and more fat ponies around town, and many you see regularly are getting even fatter. You’re guilty of this yourself, willingly, so it’s not like you’re passing judgement. The other fat foals at school are getting rounder, and a few of the normal sized students are starting to get chubby, from what Caramel says. Every employee at the new Cherry Cream branch was obese.  More random townsfolk have been sighted with pot bellies and some plot chub. The sex toy shop had an entire section dedicated to ponies that were too fat to reach their sex organs with their own hooves. Sweetie Belle was stuffed fuller than you’ve ever seen her eat tonight. Not to mention that stallion, Prince Galaxy. He was bigger and fatter than even Caramel’s dad! And on top of all that, you and Caramel were unwittingly fed a special potion that made you blow up like balloons this entire week. What in Equestria is going on?

                                            “Hey, globe gut.” Caramel’s surprisingly still awake, and rolls over to see you better. The bed feels like it’s about to break as he does so. “Yes, blubber butt?” You giggle and blush. Your assets are too big to just be called ‘big’ now? “Have you noticed anything odd lately?” He raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

                                            “Like, there are more fat ponies around town lately. I saw Lyra and Bon Bon on the way home today. I always remember them being pretty average, but Lyra had a bit of extra pudge around the midsection today. Bon Bon was looking at her as lovingly as usual, but she was pushing a whole cake to Lyra’s part of the table. I saw Berry Punch for the first time in months and she’s as big as Cream Pie. Everyone working at that new Cherry Cream store is clinically obese. And look at us, we’ve probably gained at least 40 pounds each in just a week! What’s up with that?” You worry you might becoming off like a wacky conspiracy theorist, especially considering your voice got higher and more confused as your thoughts went on.

                                            “I know what you mean,” Caramel replies, putting a hoof on your belly to comfort you. “Some of the students have started coming to Cherry Cream for lunch. Our parents have been feeding us more and more since we had those Princess Burgers with that concoction in them- I’m still waiting to hear how long it’s supposed to last, since we’re both gaining weight like, waaaaaaaay faster than even us two should be. And of all ponies, Prince Galaxy showed up to the new Cherry Cream building at lunch, with my dad! He ordered the entire menu, super-sized. Ha!”

                                            The bed groans and sinks deeper down. A few cracks are heard, but neither of you seem to mind. “Would it really be that bad if being fat was more common, though?” Caramel thinks aloud. “You’re right,” you reply, returning the favor and putting your hoof on his belly. “I just wish we could get back to gaining weight at a normal rate…” ‘And wish I could get taller!’ You add, in your head. Caramel turns to you and asks “What did you pick up at the sex toy shop, anyway”?


                                            You wake up in the morning to the sound of the alarm. You feel shorter, somehow. Your belly has returned to its normal size, but that’s not it. It takes you a few seconds to realize your bed broke overnight. You roll over, only to find yourself on Caramel’s belly. Blushing, you roll off, and shake him awake. You can tell his belly’s even bigger than it was last night, before dinner.

                                            Bathroom, shower, drying off, realizing you forgot to get a midnight snack last night. You’re almost ready to head down for breakfast. First, it’s time to get a good look at yourself and step on that scale. The mirror makes it plain as day: your obscene ice cream gluttony has made you even fatter, and dinner certainly didn’t help matters. You stand at a ¾ profile, turn your head to look to your right, and look back to the left with your eyes. This gives you a pretty good look at all of your enormity without having to move. Your green belly, resting on your rear hooves and missing the floor by a couple centimeters around its largest point, spreads bulges forward into your barrel, so puffed up with fat it extends past your blubbery face. You look like you have no neck at all, there’s so much fat in that ‘tire’ surrounding your face it’s completely engulfed. Your cheeks are so fat they cover up some of the bottom of your eye socket, and are constantly in your vision. Your messy black mane gets caught in the folds of your back at times. Pockets of fat surround the upper portion of your foreleg, and accentuate themselves when you lift them. Your massive hips bulge out three inches wider than the doorframe on each side, and meld seamlessly with your thighs, which themselves press against each other and your belly at all times. Squished between them are your teats, slightly larger than the average full-grown mare’s from fat alone.

                                            You rotate yourself into a full profile view, and really get a chance to see how big your belly has gotten. Looking at the mirror solely with your eyes and keeping your head in a profile view, you can see just how much your double chin squishes against your barrel. And your plot, oh Celestia your plot. Combined with your hips and thighs into the full package of UNF, it’s even bigger than your gut. It squishes into your rear knee joints and practically smothers them. You bite your lip. No wonder so many ponies want to fuck you.  You’d fuck you.

                                            You step onto the scale, watching your entire body jiggle hypnotically. The numbers rapidly jump up to 300, and slowly climb from there. For a second, you think you may have broken the scale. Pinkie doesn’t break it, but she’s not fully bound by reality anyway. Finally, the numbers stop. 360 pounds. You’ve put on another 20 pounds in one day. That potion must still be in effect, despite what you and Caramel thought.


                                            You get stuck in the doorway again while trying to leave the restroom. You’re still only 3’4” tall. That 11 inches of height Pinkie’s got on you has to be the only possible reason she doesn’t get stuck like this. Caramel is yawning and coming out of your room, struggling to squeeze his gut through just like you’re struggling to free your butt. He’s definitely gained a lot of weight as well, with a relatively even distribution of fat as normal. What you notice most prominently, however, is that a second fold has appeared in the center of his double chin, and his belly, while empty, is actually touching the floor. Both of you blush and look away, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourselves. Lil’ Cheese is peeking from the top of the stairs, and trots away giggling. Pinkie’s voice can be heard, slightly muffled, from the dining room. “Oh dear, she’s outgrowing our house.” You’d think a bakery that serves nothing but fattening confectionaries would be better suited for those of larger stature. Then again, Mrs. Cake was quite the chubster, but nowhere near where any of you Cheese Pies were. You slowly plod down the stairs, running out of breath partway through. Stairs are way not your thing anymore. You can hear a muffled shout from the bathroom. “380? 30 pounds?” Caramel outgained you again!

                                            At the breakfast table, you and Caramel are scarfing down food like usual. Everything feels a little more ordinary than the past week has. You’re still stuffing away even more food than you used to, and with Caramel still here, food is disappearing faster than ever. Everyone but Cheese Sandwich, the only normal sized pony of the house, was left a little hungry. Pinkie had forgotten to increase the available food to account for Caramel’s appearance. You and Caramel sit on the big couch. Between the two of you, it’s completely filled up, and looks like it’s about to break under your weights. Pinkie walks out into the living room, swaying her hips hypnotically and seemingly intentionally leaving her plot sticking up in the air longer than necessary while perusing a note on the table. She turns around with a somber look on her face, and her mane almost looks like it’s starting to flop into that fabled Pinkamena style.

                                            “Choccy, you know I love you like my own biological daughter. Carmy, you know your parents love you and I consider you a good colt. Cheese and I, along with Chocolate Cream and Tomato Cherry, we’ve been talking. You’re still young but… you’re getting too big. You’ve put on a lot of weight really fast, broke a lot of furniture, can’t fit through most doors, and can’t even make it up and down stairs.”

                                            A look of despair grew across both your and Caramel’s faces. Was the dreaded ‘diet’ word coming up? Wait, why is one of the fattest ponies in town lecturing you about being too fat? The couch collapses beneath you. 740 combined pounds, plus however much food you stuffed into your guts, was too much for it. Pinkie sighs and her mane reaches full Pinkamena status. Tears well up in your eyes.

                                            She hands Caramel the note. He was on the verge of tears too, but his face contorts into a blubbery look of confusion. “That’s why you’re moving out!” Pinkie bounces up, back to her normal cheery self. Her mane follows suit, reverting to its normal crazy shape. In true Pinkie fashion, she’s somehow zipped behind both of you, pushed you out the front door, and gives a big slap to both of your plots. “Bigger doors, no stairs, and it’s right next to school and plenty of food! Get your fat plots in gear, you’ve got school to get to!”


                                            You and Caramel waddle to school at a lumbering pace. All that extra weight, plus your prior day’s sedentary nature, made the walk way harder than it ever was before. You’re both sweating profusely, panting, and dragging fat bellies across the floor. Too winded to speak, Caramel hovers the paper in front of you with his magic, letting both of you read.

                                            “By order of the royal court of Canterlot, CHOCOLATE PIE and CARAMEL SWEETS are hereby under the stewardship of the House of Prince Galaxy AND PRINCESS of FRIENDSHIP. All of their belongings will be moved from their parents’ houses to the newly constructed AMBASSADOR’S MANOR, located adjacent to the recently opened CHERRY CREAM restaurant in the Oakenglade district.

                                            “The manor will be fully furnished and provide full amenities. The layout of the manor will be henceforth:

                                            -One (1) bedroom, with two (2) closets and one (1) bed

                                            -One (1) deluxe master bathroom with two (2) showers, two (2) toilets, two (2) sinks, and one (1) bath tub

                                            -One (1) kitchen with a full suite of baking and food storage amenities

                                            -One (1) common room to be used as the tenants see fit, including ingestion of food

                                            The House of Prince Galaxy AND PRINCESS of FRIENDSHIP is well aware of the physical situation and personal habits of CHOCOLATE PIE and CARAMEL SWEETS. Rest assured that all furniture, entryways, and general space usage of the manor are adequately portioned for ponies of your weight class, and any replacements or accommodations needed WHEN you grow even larger are available free of charge.

                                            “The House of Prince Galaxy AND PRINCESS of FRIENDSHIP welcomes you, and invites you to grow with us.”

                                            The rest of the letter is more personalized, and isn’t filled out like a form letter.

                                            “Food is very important to you. Cherry Cream is right next door. Your house will come fully stocked with precisely the type of food you two enjoy. The marketplace is nearby with plenty of food variety. I know you’re getting a little heavy to make the walk to Sugarcube Corner, I know the feeling myself, but we can always help facilitate delivery options as needed.

                                            “Chocolate Pie, it goes without saying you’re just as talented at baking desserts as you are in stuffing yourself full of them. Feel free to make use of the kitchen to bake like your adoptive mother does. I’m confident you can carry on the tradition of being a very trustworthy chef. I wish to fill my tremendous belly with food you bake just as I do with Pinkie Pie’s desserts. I’m confident you’re more than capable, even if you might be inclined to sample more of the goods.

                                            “Caramel Sweets, your talents lie more in ingesting food than in making it, and that’s okay. You remind me of myself when I was your age, down to how heavy you are. Use your talents to help Chocolate perfect her craft, keep that body of yours growing, and develop those managerial skills you’ve been building. I foresee a deeper alliance between Sugarcube Corner and Cherry Cream in the not very distant future.

                                            “I look forward to meeting both of you. Remember, you were picked because you’re a loving couple, a very rotund couple, and great things will come to you. Chocolate, come to the Castle of Friendship right after school. I’ll arrange a cart for transport for you. I don’t expect a filly of your weight to walk all this way. That would be downright cruel. We’ll have dinner here, and plenty of it. Caramel, meet me at the new Cherry Cream location tomorrow evening. We’ll have dinner there.

                                            “Make me proud.

                                            -Prince Galaxy”


                                            That day at school was eventful. You and Caramel both struggled to fit through the door, and you both managed to break your desks. Prince Galaxy had ordered new desks and a retrofit to the entryway to accommodate his newest subjects, but work couldn’t be done until the weekend. Focusing on class was difficult, with everything weighing on your minds.

                                            Lunch was the best part of the school day, as always. You and Caramel splurged and had nothing but milkshakes and ice cream for lunch. Caramel needed to train his sweet tooth, and you wanted to see if they took your suggestions. They did. After filling your belly so painfully full you couldn’t squeeze out of the booth, you made sure Caramel did the same. Cream Pie, looking a little chubbier than before, suggested a bigger booth closer to the cooks’ line, now that you’ve both put on so much weight this booth was undersized. All the foals who had recently become chubby were ordering big adult-portion hayburger and fries combos, with big dessert portions. It was easy to see why they were gaining weight.

                                            A young, orange blank flank filly seated nearest to you, reminiscent of a Pegasus Applejack without the country attire or freckles, was downing amounts of CCPBF ice cream that were obscene for a filly her size. Her little wings were stretched out to full span as she kept stuffing more, and more, and more into her little belly. You can’t help but watch in amazement. She’s tiny, but eating like she’s you. Bigger, and bigger, and bigger her tummy grows, tightening the uniform shirt she was wearing until puffs of belly were sticking out. She was snout deep in a fourth bucket of ice cream, showing no signs of stopping. Pop goes one button, then a second, then a third. If she had a fifth bucket of ice cream, she would have dived right into it despite everyone’s protests. Her wings are twitching, and her face is in that very familiar pose of satisfaction you are very familiar with. She’s getting sexual satisfaction out of this. A filly after your own heart!

                                            Her hips twitch, and ponies surrounding her back a way, worried she’s going to explode. And to be fair, she truly overdid it. It was by miracle alone that her untrained stomach didn’t rupture from overfilling. She begins to convulse a little, drooling. She puts her forehooves on her belly, and softly caresses it. With a moan that you’re very familiar with, and a splash of liquid on the floor nobody else noticed, a bright light erupts from her thighs. Her entire body plumps up, giving her chubby cheeks, the beginning of a double chin, a thick layer of fat around her belly, and a plot and pair of thighs that were twice as thick as her gut is when it’s empty. Her thighs bear a fresh, new cutie mark: a huge bowl of ice cream. She got a cutie mark in eating desserts. You manage to squeeze out of the booth and drag your own overglutted body over to her. Touching her gut with your hoof, you realize it’s still stuffed to the brim. You’ve never heard of cutie mark weight gain before, but it seems the process that made her fat saved her life. Her stomach is still stretched so full it’s stretching out and gaining capacity, but all the food that filled it past that point had instantly become the fat she now wore. Her wings are still erect. She enjoys this. Fat pegasi are always a sad case. They neither have the earth pony strength nor the unicorn magic as bonuses, and their species skill is made unusable by their weight.

                                            You move your hoof to her thighs, and give them a rub. Yes, she’s going to be another rear-heavy pony, excellent. She looks down at you and blushes. “Hey Creamsicle,” you finally say, realizing how awkward it was to just walk up to her and start feeling her up. She’s the same age and height as you so it’s not like it’s weird, she’s just a late bloomer. “You should hang out with me and Caramel some time. You seem to share some…. ‘interests’ with us, and we can help you train that belly of yours.” She’s blushing even harder, thighs rubbing together. “I-I’ve always liked you, Choco!  I’ll do my best!” She beams. Did you just find yet another sexual partner? Great, not only are you up to six, for of which you’ve fucked already, but now you’re corrupting a formerly thin filly that just got her blank flank, and are going to turn her into as much of a mass of fat and gluttony as you.


                                            School is out, and just as you were told, a cart is parked right outside the door, with a boarding ramp. You climb up the ramp, worried that it, and the cart itself, are creaking heavily under your weight. Surely a 360 pound filly isn’t too heavy? The ramp closes, and you look to the front. There is a unicorn royal guard, average as can be, and a rather chubby bat pony guard mare with a magnificently large ass. Man, does that ass look good. She’s in the middle of a serious binge on fruits, and the only thing that gets you to take your eyes off her ass is the sounds of a straining strap, and how much her belly is expanding. “Midnight Snack, will you please stop glutting yourself. Our guest is in the cart,” the guard stallion says sternly. “Jusht one more crate!” the plump bat pony exclaims, her words muffled by her stuffed mouth. You can’t help yourself. You reach out to touch that glorious plot, only to be halted by a loud ping, an audible ‘fwomp’, and the sound of bending metal. That chubby guard mare is suddenly enormous! She looks… exactly like you, but scaled up almost a foot taller. “Oops…” she says, bashfully. The stallion groans. “Just, get in the back. I swear to Celestia, next time the prince can use his own guards for BOTH of the escorts. See how one of you lardbuckets handles the other’s lack of self control.”

                                            Midnight Snack hops into the cart next to you, causing the cart to practically collapse from the strain. Of course, four more crates of fruit follow. The cart isn’t overly large, so when you two are sitting across from each other, your bellies are touching, your rear legs are interlocking with each other, and you’re staring at each other’s blubbery frames. It’s delightful. The guard stallion casts two enchantments on the cart, one to make it follow him, one to make it capable of carrying this monstrous load without collapsing, and takes off.

                                            “Hey kid, mind if I eat? ‘Course you don’t, you’d do the same. I’m Midnight Snack, royal guard, and you are lookin’ like a SNACK. No wonder Prince Galaxy took a liking to you. I just want to eat you up!” She’s quite the chatter box, and stopped talking only so she could vacuum up those fruit crates in an instant. Her belly bulges even further outward, squishing into yours. You can barely hide how turned on you’re feeling. “What… even happened back there? You’re huge, but just a minute ago you were just-” “Oh, I just went a little overboard and broke my enchanted armor, no biggie.”

                                            “See, Princess Twilight is mostly using the old guard like grumpy glutes up there, but Prince Galaxy hired an all new staff for himself, and every guard, maid, chef, adviser, even delivery pony is some level of fat. He encourages it, feeds us really well. He just has enchanted armor and clothing for us ponies that get really big so we can do our jobs easier when we’re on the clock. Like me, I just hit the big five oh oh. Got a raise, a promotion, a meal with the boss, and a little something extra if ya know what I mean.”

                                            She’s rubbing her belly and licking her lips quite seductively while talking. You can’t tell if she’s making a sexual pass or if she actually wants to EAT you. The cart arrived at the castle of friendship, and with the enchantments fading off, it collapses under the combined weight. “Well, that’s our stop. We should have some fun some time, Cutie Pie.” She butt-bumps you and licks her lips.

                                            “Midniiiiiiiiiiiiight…” A familiar voice calls out. Her sultry demeanor shifts to a look of concern. Prince Galaxy is standing in the doorway. “Now, you know I have to dock your pay for the broken cart, and for a new set of enchanted armor.” He crosses his fat forelegs, resting them on his chest. His stern look quickly shifts into a cheesy smile, with a slight blush. “You’re lucky you’re my biggest and favorite guard, Snacky. Give me a hug.” Midnight obliges, squishing deeply into Prince Galaxy’s enormous belly. He gives her a kiss on the snoot. “I’ll go easy on you. Come on in with ‘Cutie Pie’, let’s chat.”

                                            Prince Galaxy plops his enormous plot onto a king sized bed that he’s using as a couch. The frame collapses under his weight immediately. An entire restaurant’s worth of food surrounds him, carted in by his magic. You and Midnight squeeze into some spare thrones modeled after the Elements’ seats in the map room. A veritable feast is set down in front of each of you: cakes, pies, and cupcakes in front of you, and fruits in front of Midnight. Whatever you’re going to talk about, the prince of lard expects you to eat more than your fill while doing it.

                                            “Before we start, I want to know how much you weigh. Very important.” Prince Galaxy chuckles. You report your weight as at least 360 pounds, and Midnight reports hers as at least 500. He chuckles. “And here my fat ass is 160 past a ton. You know, Midnight, Chocolate is exactly as big as you were at her age. I’ll deal with your big butt first, Snacky.” He stops to swallow down a double decker apple pie. “Midnight, you’re on official suspension for the property damage and stolen fruits. Your ‘punishment’ is to be a no-uniform guard and assistant at the Manor. I don’t anticipate any trouble, so you’re pretty much going to be a maid for our premiere couple. I won’t require it, but you’d look pretty cute in a maid uniform. We’ll hold off on doing anything about your armor until your 3 moon  assignment there ends. Let’s be honest, we both know you’re going to put on a lot of weight there. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

                                            Prince Galaxy smiles slyly. “Th-thank you, my prince!” Midnight replies, biting her lips. No patrols, no real physical requirements, tons of available food with a big cute filly, AND a tight maid uniform? It was like heaven!


                                            “As for you, Chocolate, let me explain what’s going on. Thanks to the actions of Princess Twilight and the elements of harmony so many years ago, Equestria is in a period of perpetual peace. You’ve probably noticed it yourself, but without the risk of attacks, a lot of ponies are getting, well, fat. The reasons differ per pony, but it’s… See, it’s still pretty rare here in Ponyville, but when I get you and Caramel over to Canterlot to visit…. I think we unicorns might actually be the most prone to weight gain.

                                            “Anyway, uh… So you and Caramel, you’re really fat. Huge! Not even I was as fat as you two when I was a colt, and look how fat my lard-ass is. One of the things Twilight and I wanted to do was find some ponies other than the royal family that could serve as an example, something that shows ponies that it’s ok to be fat. You two don’t really have to do anything but live your lives as you normally do. You’ll just have some occasional appearances and flaunt those curves of yours.

                                            “IIIIIIIIIIIIIII’ll admit it’s a liiiiiiiiiittle bit selfish.” Prince Galaxy adds, rubbing the back of his head with a forehoof. “There’s been criticism of the royal family since Celly and Luna retired and my Twili took over. She’s gotten pretty fat since taking over, between her eating habits, stress eating, and of course some encouragement from me, and about 1400 of these pounds I’ve put on since she took over myself. Some ponies find an issue with the prince and princess approaching 3000 combined pounds. If more ponies were fat, my Twili wouldn’t have to get so stressed, and can just get thiccer for me without her mental state being attacked.”


                                            With the serious talk over, the three of you feast to your guts’ content. You and Midnight take turns riding Prince Auroroa’s dick in a reverse cowgirl method. Midnight pulls it off like a pro, but you’re exhausted pretty quickly. Prince Galaxy has to use his magic to move you after about a minute of movement. Nevertheless, your overstuffed gut gets an even bigger filling of cum, and you feel like you’re actually going to explode. Midnight and you cuddle at the end, her being the big spoon. She wraps her thighs around you, and squishes her fat face on your neck. “We gotta work on your stamina, kid.” She licks your neck, and you feel really weird. “You look positively delicious~” Although it’s impossible, you think she’s actually going to eat you. She bites into your neck and sucks. She’s drinking some of your blood! You can feel something pumping into your veins. You want to scream, thrash, do something. Anything. You’re paralyzed. You can feel two of your teeth growing into fangs. Your eyes feel weird, and suddenly your low-light vision improves significantly. She pulls her fangs out of your neck, and the wound is immediately healed. She whispers into your ear. “That should make things a little easier for you. Consider sharing that gift with your coltfriend.”


                                            It’s a couple hours later, enough time to digest and move. Prince Galaxy is staying the night before a train that can hold his weight arrives to take him back to Canterlot, and you and your new friend are heading home. By now, you scarcely remember a single part of your life before your time in Equestria. You remember just enough to recognize this as being the second time your species has changed. Midnight’s venom has made you a hybrid of a bat pony and an earth pony. The only visible differences are your fangs, and your now-slitted batpony pupils that gave you significantly boosted low-light vision. You sadly didn’t grow any bat wings, not that they’d be useful at your weight anyway, and your ears don’t have that extra fluff to them. What you obtained instead were evolutionary benefits the bat ponies had developed while they had been forced into exile during the Nightmare Moon times. Your natural earth pony strength was augmented greatly, as was your stamina. You’re still rapidly approaching 400 pounds of blubber with not one iota of exercise or weight training, but you feel like you’re walking on air. You and Midnight are keeping a surprisingly decent pace on the way to your new home, and you’re hardly breaking a sweat.

                                            Your new maid and you talk a lot about the most relevant bat pony physiology along the way. Midnight explains that the strength buff for a unicorn or pegasus would boost them to the physical strength levels of an average earth pony, while an earth pony like you would practically physically become gods. It’s probably hyperbole, but you feel like you could triple Prince Galaxy’s weight and the only difficulty you’d have moving would be your sheer mass getting in the way. You ponder why injections of bat pony venom isn’t more common, since it seems to only give benefits, but Midnight stops you in your proverbial tracks there. The long-term effects aren’t known, particularly upon reproduction. There is still a lot of scrutiny held toward bat pony kind due to their long-term unanimous allegiance toward Nightmare Moon. It has been a good 20 years since Nightmare Moon came back, was defeated by the elements of harmony, and was reformed back into the peaceful and remorseful Princess Luna, but 1000 years of events are hard to get past.

                                            You’re nearly home, and it feels so weird to you that you’ve walked the entire way without getting more than the slightest bit tired. The last time you felt this free, it was your first day in Equestria, before your gluttony got the best of you. The lights are on, and you suspect Caramel is home. How would he feel about your new maid, who just turned you into a bat pony hybrid and treated your vagina like a never-ending basket of fruit? Or about being turned into a bat pony hybrid himself? Come to think of it, Creamcicle could benefit from it herself. That little filly is somepony you’re going to make enormous after all.

                                            A thought crosses your mind, and you feel inclined to ask: “Midnight, why did you ride in the cart if walking at your full size is so easy?” To which she replies: “I’m the type of fatty that prefers to sit around all day and eat, of course! I’m sure you can relate, blubber butt.” You’re far from the most faithful pony around, having slept with so many ponies within the first week of having sex for the first time, but you can’t help but feel like a threesome is in your future. Your maid, who you just met, not only wants to eat you, and turned you into a hybrid of her own species, but she’s also already using the same pet names your supposed ‘one and only’ lover does.


                                            The first meeting between your lover and your lover-maid is as awkward as it could possibly have been. You and Midnight walked in on Caramel stuffing himself silly and using his magic to masturbate. He looks positively massive, like he’s put on 60 pounds today. The potion must have still been in effect for him, but not for you! The two of you have identical blushing faces, contorted in a fat mixture of embarrassment and arousal. This immensely obese colt with his gargantuan belly and his massive cock, bigger than most full-grown stallions’, jerking it to images of mares bigger than either of you combined. It’s exhilarating. Both of you pounce on him, giving him a cooperative blowjob and plenty of groping.

                                            After the confusion settles, a sleepy, overengorged Caramel Sweets takes a moment to question what the fuck just happened. “W-who is this, Choc?”  He manages to stammer. You and Midnight are on opposite sides of him, lewdly caressing his overstained belly and occasionally licking his chest. It’s like the bat pony DNA has put you in sync. You finally speak up, after unintentionally baring your fangs and licking his chin folds. “This is Midnight Snack, a bat pony that can’t fly and our new maid.” He looks over at her, seemingly not noticing your eyes or fangs. “Uh, h-hi.”

                                            For now, Midnight is sleeping on the couch until better arrangements can be made. For the first time ever, you and Caramel are sleeping together in a bed that isn’t about to collapse under your considerable combined weight. You explain everything Prince Galaxy had said, down to and including the details behind Midnight’s new assignment. You’re laying on top of Caramel, which makes him slightly uncomfortable given there’s over 360 pounds of blubber on an explosively full belly, but you don’t mind. You keep licking your lips when looking at him. You have the urge to try to fit all nearly-400-pounds of him inside your stomach. Is this vore temptation really what Midnight was feeling? It’s impossible, even if you really wanted to. “Wait. Choc, what’s with your eyes? Why do you have fa-AAH!” Sleeping with him instead of Midnight just a few hours after your change was a mistake. Some time to get used to your new form and new urges would have been very preferable, and instead you’ve scared your lover nearly to death. Your fangs are buried deep into his fat neck. You don’t suck out nearly enough blood to be remotely dangerous, but somehow you’ve managed to suck out 20 pounds of fat from his body, adding it to your own instantly. You pump enough venom into him to exhaust yourself and him almost as fast. In the last seconds of your consciousness, you whisper in his ear: “One of us, one of us.”


                                            You’re so glad it’s still the weekend. The meetup with Sweetie Belle had to be postponed for another day, but it was for the best. Both you and Caramel are so exhausted after last night, despite a full night’s sleep, you could barely get through your morning routines. Thanks to your fat siphoning, an ability even Midnight didn’t know you’d acquire, you gained a whole 25 pounds. Even on an empty stomach, your belly’s touching and squishing against the ground now. You’re only 15 pounds shy of 400 now, and although your new hybrid strength has made it so you’re not burdened by the weight at all, you find yourself continuously annoyed at the lack of height growth. You really shouldn’t be dragging your belly on the floor at all times already!

                                            Caramel’s even worse off, despite his height advantage. Even with you stealing 20 pounds of weight off him, his continued binging on those poisoned Princess Burgers on that day combined with his unrestrained gluttony last night left him 60 pounds fatter than the day before: 440 pounds. Just like you, the venom’s effects made him gain 20 extra pounds, and his belly is spreading across the floor at all times. Being a unicorn, the bat pony hybrid mutation isn’t benefitting his strength as much is it does an earth pony like you, and a regular non-enhanced earth pony is typically struggling with their weight by the 400 pound mark when their weight is comprised of just fat. Being a young colt that hadn’t reached his full height yet, and had gained 90 pounds in a single week on top of that, made matters that much harder. The potion had finally worn off completely for him, so he’s back to his normal weight gaining schedule.

                                            Both of you are planning to spend the whole day in bed, eating to your stomachs’ delights. Since everything’s free, you tell Maid Midnight to help herself to as much food as she wants. Each time she walks in with another platter of gorging delights for the heaviest young couple in Equestria, her belly is noticeably bigger, more filled out. That maid uniform of hers isn’t meant for a pony quit as large as she is. Her plot is completely uncovered by the skirt portion, and you swear you see the seams fraying and tearing around the stomach area. You want to see her burst out of that undersized maid uniform. It’s funny, she’s as far from skittish about her weight and gluttonous tendencies as possible, but based on what you saw with her armor, she’s embarrassed as can be when she outgrows something. It’s cute. You suppose you wouldn’t act any differently. After all, at your old house, getting stuck in the doorways had you all hot and bothered. It’s complicated.


                                            It’s evening, around the time you’d normally have dinner. You have done nothing but lay in one spot and binge all day, same as your partner. If a television weren’t mounted to the ceiling, you’d have nothing to look at but your overstuffed gut, gurgling and groaning its way through the onslaught you just put it through. That potion’s effects must have still been active in you until today, even if it wasn’t noticeable, because you’re really feeling the gluttony now. Midnight plods in, another full two-pony helping of food on a tray. Caramel’s fast asleep, snoring. Despite his name and talents, he’s still not used to an all-dessert diet, and all that sugar put him right out. You roll over as best you can to face Midnight. With a sly smile, and a pat of your overstretched stomach (it hurts), you give her the news. “Midnight, we’re both full. You’ll have to finish all that.” “Wh-what? You mean- I mean, I’m kinda full…” You point your hoof to the loveseat by the wall. It’s not like she’s on a diet. You saw her eat more than this in the back of the cart alone. “I want to see you eat everything on that cart, refill it, and eat it again until you’re as full as I am, Snacky,” you tease.

                                            Defeated, Midnight slumps into the seat, eliciting a loud creaking. Sometimes, she forgets she’s technically the fattest and heaviest pony there. Maybe that’s why a sudden reminder, like her belly surging out of clothing, startles her so. Realizing the seat is struggling to hold her weight, and her thighs and plot are too big to fit in the seat comfortably, leaves a blush on her face. “Come on big girl, eat up. Unless you like waddling that huge ass all the way to the fruit market, it’s this or hayburgers every meal,” you tease further. Perhaps you’re being too cruel, but this kind of teasing is common among your weight range. After all, she had her hooves all over your filly flank, teasing you about how big you were.

                                            A bat pony’s diet, even one as large as Midnight, was heavily biased in favor of fruits. It’s no surprise that the fruit-based pies were her favorite. She didn’t mind all the chocolate, fudge, caramel, and cream pies and cakes, but one bite of an apple pie and she couldn’t help but slurp up the rest in an instant. Her belly grows ever larger, stuffing down portions even you would find ridiculous before you broke 300 pounds. That maid uniform is giving it all it’s got, but its time is short. You can see that deep bluish-gray belly poking through small rips and tears in the seams.

                                            Midnight seems to devise a plan. She’ll force down all of the fattier desserts first, and save her favorite fruits for last. She stuffs them down at eating contest speeds, scarcely even stopping to breathe. Her belly’s already gurgling and groaning, trying to keep up. She seems to not even notice the big tear opening up in the uniform, and you try not to show that you’ve noticed it. It’ll be cuter if she only realizes she’s burst out of her uniform on day 1 after she’s stuffed to the brim and can’t leave your sight. Oddly, she gets up, to the audible relief of the seat, and starts pushing the cart out of the room before she even touches the fruit pies. “Wait, you’re not done!” You protest. Midnight shakes her plot in your direction. “Don’t worry, my queen,” she replies, as oozing with sarcasm as that final cake was oozing with heavy cream. “I’m just restocking on the best desserts. I promise~ I’m not cheating!” She turns back around to shine a huge grin at you. The corners of her mouth press deeply into her fatty fat fat cheeks, and you notice they, along with her triple chin, are smothered with chocolate and cream.

                                            The cart is overflowing, and partnered with a second, identically overflowing cart. You smile an evil, devious smile. You’ve found her weakness. Of course you did. She’s a pure bat pony. You can stuff her with your favorites until the moon rises, but fruit pies… Yes, of course! If you mix your creams, your chocolates, your fudges, your caramels- mix those into fruit pies, you can hit this fruit loving glutton with a double whammy! She can’t resist, and with those additives she’ll fatten up quite nicely. What about other bat ponies? Could you manipulate thin bat ponies into flightless gluttons too?

                                            The loveseat nearly collapses as Midnight flops back into it carelessly. One bite of a blueberry pie, and off she goes. She’s practically vacuuming pie after pie into her stomach, using both hooves to shovel something in from each cart. Her face is beaming in delight, like she’s taking the most satisfying dick possible. Bigger and bigger her belly grows, tearing and surging out of the remains of that uniform. The couch audibly groans and cracks beneath her, and she seemingly just can’t stop. It’s like she lost all sense of self-control. Her massively overengorged gut is showing significant signs of strain and is reddening fast, and she’s barely over halfway through the carts. It’s astounding just how arousing this is to you. If you could reach, use magic, or had the foresight to set up the self-propelling dildo and buzzplug you still haven’t had a chance to play with, you’d be pleasuring yourself to this. You have to make do with rubbing your massive thighs together, letting the fat splash against your vagina. At the same time, you’re worried. ‘I hope she doesn’t burst…’


                                            A loud snap, crack, pop, and flop wakes you from your ‘slumber’. To your relief, your big fat bat is perfectly fine. She’s just destroyed your brand new seat, intended to last you and Caramel for a good while. Both of the carts are empty, and are wheeling away from the source of the disturbance. Midnight seems to snap out of a trance. Her eyes open very widely, her face flushes redder than any blush you’ve seen before, and she lets out a piercing screech. Caramel jumps off the bed in surprise with a yelp, and the force of it knocks you off your side as well. Right onto your belly. Ouch.

                                            You saunter over to her side, while Caramel looks on from the other side of the bed. “Wha-what happened?!” She’s still in shock. She really, really feels how overly engorged she is now. You stand by her side, lewdly licking the assorted desserts off her face. “What’s wrong, big fat bat? Eat too much?” You tease. She passes out, too full to stay awake. Midnight’s mind is fried, unable to process how much her stomach hurts and how surprised she is. She’ll be fine when she wakes up, if more than a little bit fatter than before. You may as well get some digestion and sleep done as well. Flopping back into bed, you ask Caramel to magic some treats in. Better top off those guts before sleep after all.


                                            You wake up in the morning, all rested up and ready for whatever. The potion is long gone, but a day of barely moving and stuffing yourself has you feeling fatter already. At some point overnight, you and Caramel had apparently rolled over to face each other. This time, it was Caramel’s turn to greet you with a devious smile. “What is it, whale belly?” You ask groggily, pulling yourself closer to him. “Oh nothing, balloon butt. I just made sure you didn’t miss your… midnight snack.” He replied slyly, not really thinking about how that could be mistaken for a reference to the maid. You break into a sweat, nervous. You never told him about all the other ponies you’ve fucked, including your adoptive mother. Did he- “You’re surprisingly good at sleep eating!” Oh! He… forcefed you while you were asleep. That’s… that’s actually arousing. “I hope you stuffed your fat face too, tubby!” You snicker.

                                            It’s a school day, so you have to actually do something. How annoying. It’s nice to be able to go through your morning routine without having to contend with stairs or getting stuck in doorways. Otherwise, it’s same-old, same-old. You’re visibly fatter, and not one inch taller. No doubt thanks to Caramel’s tricks, you put on an entire five pounds. An impressive amount for one day, when you’re not under a potion’s effects. You binged without moving a muscle for an entire day, so it makes sense to fatten up a bit, but this much? Maybe your metabolism has just slowed down. 390 pounds as a little filly, barely over 3 feet tall. What a sight… However, you’re so close to 400 you actually feel kind of excited, like you want to gain that last 10 pounds as fast as possible just to say you broke 400.

                                            Caramel put on a much more reasonable 3 pounds. Reasonable compared to your 5, you suppose. He too laments not getting any taller. A full grown stallion at 443 pounds would be plenty fat, but so much less burdensome. Midnight Snack doesn’t have to go to school, of course. She’s a grown mare, even if she’s barely a year past the point a filly is considered a mare.  Still, she needs to guard her blubbery employers on their waddle to and from school at least once a moon to keep appearances up. Better to get it over with and spend the rest of the moon lounging around, right?

                                            A piercing “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” echoes from the restroom as you and Caramel try to enjoy a hearty breakfast, followed by an almost sensual moan. The duality of mare. Midnight’s little caloric overload put an astonishing 12 pounds onto her frame, most of it into her already massive rump. You find herself thinking she’s even cuter with the extra weight.


                                            Three moons pass by rather quickly. Autumn turned to winter, and with it came the hefty holiday season. First was the feast of thankfulness, a newer holiday passed by decree of Princess Twilight. It was a time to gather with family and friends, be thankful for what you have in life, and feast to your stomach’s content. It was a rather eventful day, with both your and Caramel’s families visiting. Plenty of feasting, plenty of food comas, and plenty of teasing your maid Midnight on how she was outgrowing yet another maid uniform. Within weeks, there was Hearth’s Warming, followed not long after by the celebration of the new year. ‘The three fateneers’, as you, Caramel, and Midnight were nicknamed, always gained the most weight this time of year, despite the fact you ate like this all the time. This year was no exception. In fact, the feedback loop between three very fat, very gluttonous ponies seems to have amplified the effects. It didn’t help that you started practicing baking. Your output was nearly as high as the daily Sugarcube Corner output, family meals and store stock combined. Without customers to sell to, it was just you three chowing down on everything you made, in addition to all the delivered Sugarcube Corner meals and visits to Cherry Cream.

                                            ‘The fattest foals in Ponyville’, another nickname just for the semi-famous Chocolate Pie and Caramel Sweets, finally got the starts of a much needed growth spurt. You stand a whole one inch taller, at 3’5”. You’re going to be a pretty short mare. Based on the royal doctor’s estimates, you’re likely to end up barely breaching 4’ tall when you stop growing. The extra height doesn’t help your predicament much. You’ve been so much of an indulgent piggy this winter, you gained an entire 35 pounds.

                                            Caramel, on the other hoof, is going to be a tall stallion. His growth spurt shot him up 4 inches in height, up to 4’1” tall. Of course, he gained 37 pounds, putting him up to an even heftier 480 pounds. With a more belly-heavy body shape, that extra height didn’t help keep his gut off the ground so much. Both his mother and father, who somehow managed to actually make it, were so proud of his size increase.

                                            Midnight, on the other hoof, she was amazing. She did plenty of growing, and none of it in height. She had managed to gorge and binge herself up to 500 pounds on her own, but those fruit pies, the ones you stuffed so full of heavy cream and the like it tripled the calorie count per slice? She got addicted to them, badly. You would often have to threaten to stop making them to get her to do her actual maid duties. She had really, truly ballooned up, astonishingly fast. Her belly spread across the ground even on an empty stomach, and her rear had grown so large she filled up entire 3 seat couches. Nobody could explain it, but she had grown from 512 pounds to an astonishing 665 pounds in this short period of time. Getting around was pretty difficult for her, but she insisted she was fine.


                                            It was that day. Midnight’s three moon contract was up, and it was time for her to return to duty. Bad timing made it the same day you planned to meet up with Sweetie Belle, after your previous plan didn’t work out. You and Midnight exchange a tearful goodbye. You really like that elephant of a mare, and she’s sure to miss your big ass and those pies. Prince Galaxy was making another visit to the old Castle of Friendship, and Caramel had a meeting with him about possibly opening Cherry Cream locations in Canterlot. Caramel was going to walk to the castle with Midnight, though how the two were going to make it all the way there was a mystery.

                                            You, on the other hand, have to make it all the way to the inn in the River’s Edge district. Not easy for a pony of your size! Sweetie wanted to spend a night with you, and you know what that means. Caramel was going to spend the week at the castle anyway, and no issues were expected. As you huff, puff, and waddle your way along, you can’t help but notice how fat some ponies are getting. You’re obviously nobody to judge, but you do notice trends.

                                            First, there’s Creamcicle, that filly from school that found a talent in ice cream. She’s the same height as you, even after your growth spurt, but she outweighs even you by a good 25 pounds. 450 pounds of blubber on a small frame, growing so large so fast. She’s the official taste tester and recipe maker for Cream Cherry, and has in every way taken after your eating and recipe making habits. It shows, so much.

                                            Next, there’s Lyra and Bon Bon. Bon Bon looks a little chubby, but Lyra’s gotten massive. Her  plot is overflowing two separate chairs, while her gut is even bigger than Caramel’s. The feast laid out on the table showed the couple had adopted your precise diet, based on the leftover pie tins and empty plates. Bon Bon is laying her face on Lyra’s belly, petting it. While looking at them, you bump snoot-first into a big, purple thigh. Looking up, you see it’s Berry Punch. She’s drunk as usual, but looks happy…  and massive. She’s easily over 400 pounds now, just like you. “H-heyyyyyyy, cutie. Yer lookinsh BIG! Let’sh fuck sometime! Hehe…” Ponies usually aren’t this up front about it. You’re not exactly one to turn down sex. “Some other time, Berry. I have someone I’m meeting right now.”


                                            You spot Soaren, who had to retire from the Wonderbolts after a particularly bad training accident left him flightless anyway, next. He was really getting to enjoy those pies he always loved, judging by how big his plot and gut have gotten. “Hey, Choccy!” He calls out. With a sigh, you divert course to him. He can’t keep his eyes off your ass the whole time. He’s a cutie, so you don’t mind. “Like what you see, big boy? I’m just a little filly, silly~” you giggle. He blushes and clears his throat, regaining his composure. “W-well, M-Midnight told me all about your pies and I’d uh, like to try some.” You smile slyly, and climb on top of him. His seat protests under the addition of your considerable weight. “Come on over to my place tomorrow, tubby. I’ll let you sample my pies straight from the source~” You’re practically grinding on his leg, and are licking your lips. Some of the ponys nearby are staring at him, with raised eyebrows. Worried that someone might see his ‘reaction’ to the promise of pie and special time with a big filly, he struggles to wrap up the interaction quickly. “Y-yes, I’ll be over tomorrow!”


                                            You see a couple other familiar faces along the way. Diamond Tiara had quite the paunch, and a rather rotund rear. While far from the ‘spoiled brat’ archetype she once was, she was clearly enjoying the rich life. Babs Seed had moved from Manehattan to Ponyville a couple months after you arrived, and from what Sweetie had told you, Babs got really fat between the old CMC days and now. Over a year later, she’s even fatter. It’s a wonder she can style manes and tails effectively at all when she has the same belly-heavy build as Caramel, but trading an inch of height for thirty more pounds of fat. Finally, there’s the other well-known lesbian couple: Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch.

                                            Octavia had taken a teaching position at the School of Friendship as age began to wear on, and her playing skills had started to deteriorate too much to keep up with constant live orchestral concerts touring the land, and settled down to a more sedentary life in Ponyville with Vinyl. Vinyl was always the bigger of the two. With her busy partying lifestyle, she was always overdoing it with drugs and alcohol, chugged soda and sugary energy drinks to keep awake, and stuck to a diet of quick, cheap, and easy fast foods like hayburgers, chips, and pizza, as they left much more time free for designing her mixes and sets. Over the years, this diet crept up on her, and she grew pudgy, then chubby, then fat, then overweight, then obese, bigger and bigger until she hit her current point, around 900 pounds. Massive all around, but an especially big focus was her flanks. She was rather oblivious to her ballooning weight until around the 350 pound mark, after which she realized she could use her weight to really accentuate the wubs and shakes of her music.

                                            Octavia was far too classy a mare to share that kind of diet, but was always supportive of her partner’s lifestyle. Those living together tend to adopt each other’s habits to an extent, and even a high class mare like Octavia has her indulgences. In her case, she still ate normal portioned, if expensive, meals like any normal pony. It was her sweet tooth that took away her formerly svelte physique. Sitting behind a desk, only having to stand to conduct, and sitting at home looking at notes and grades didn’t leave much exercise room in her life. Her higher salary, coupled with Vinyls fat income, meant she was far from dire straits, and had no shortage of food. It was by circumstance that she started snacking on a cupcake here, a pastry there while grading papers. Eventually, she’d accidentally go through a tray or two a day. When Vinyl got back from a set, the DJ would pig out on anything leftover from the club, plus a few pizzas. Each time, she’d have a bunch of cakes and pies from Sugarcube Corner with her, ‘subtly’ hinting to her sweet-loving Tavi to have some dessert. As luck would have it, Octavia would fail to resist such indulgences, and would find herself with quite the upset stomach and no more dessert in sight.

                                            By now, Octavia had a reasonably decent rear end, but she definitely had a more belly-centric built. At a good 380 pounds, it was becoming more and more common for her to accidentally pop off a few buttons from her woefully undersized-yet-stylish dress attire. With Rarity off to Yakyakistan, it was theoretically easier for her to get clothes better fitted for her physique – no chance of being embarrassed in front of the friend that used to make all her clothes – but she felt it would be too much of a sign of defeat. She was one of those fat ponies that insisted she could get back in shape, after all.


                                            Finally, you’re almost at the hotel. You’re just as exhausted and sweaty as you used to be when walking to school, back when it took more than just crossing the street. You don’t see any other pony you really know for the rest of the trip. A lot of ponies you’ve seen before, but none you really knew. About half of them were chubby or a little bit fatter, interestingly. Just a block away from the hotel, you nearly bump into a very familiar looking pony. The massive stallion looks just like Caramel, down to the coat and mane color. His mane was even the same style, albeit messier and longer. His cutie mark featured a massive pile of food with a pen and paper above it. Some sort of food reviewer? Now that would be a job.

                                            You knew Caramel didn’t have a brother, but this stallion could have passed for a twin were it not for the age difference, and the fact both of Caramel’s parents were unicorns while this guy was a fellow earth pony. This behemoth stood about as tall as Prince Galaxy, but looked even fatter. You realize he’s very much noticed you standing there, panting, staring at him. He raises an eyebrow and smirks at you. “Can I help you, fellow food connoisseur?” He asks, that last part sounding like he’s remind you that your figure and his aren’t so different. “Uh, not really. You’re just so, so-” you try to reply. You’ve fallen into a silly trap you remember some other foals from school also falling for: irrationally worrying that some pony that’s really fat is going to eat you. You’re also exhausted. “Enormous? I know. Gourmand Burst’s the name. I’ve traveled all around Equestria ‘sampling’ local cuisines. Come on, have a seat, your hooves are shaking.”

                                            You flop down onto your more than adequate plot, feeling the jiggle wobble throughout your body embarrassingly satisfyingly. He smiles, knowing that feeling all too well, than begins to ponder aloud. “Young filly, green coat, black, unstyled and messy mane, over 400 pounds, difficulty getting around, bat pony mutation… You must be Chocolate Pie!” Your eyes widen. Why does every new pony seem to know you? Ok, dumb question, the Prince and Princess have paraded you and Caramel around as minor celebrities after all. But how does anyone know about your bat pony mutation outside of your family?

                                            “How did you know about…” you pause, and opt to just point to your fangs and eyes with a hoof. He chuckles reassuringly. “I just finished a big tour around Canterlot, and took the train here with Prince Galaxy, you know. Swell guy, but a little jealous I can out eat him. We’ve been friends a long time. Anyway, before I headed out, his favorite guard shows up, you know her. Midnight Snack. She told me all about your cooking. Filly, if you can get that blubbery bat out of her fruit comfort zone and fatten her up that much in one season, I NEED to give that a thorough testing!”

                                            You blush, and draw a little on the ground with a forehoof. Your cooking certainly is good. You managed to fatten up your entire household a lot, after all. “Gimme two days, I gotta hit up Sweet Apple Acres (psst I think Applejack has kind of a thing for feeding ponies) today, and that Cherry Cream place the next. Then, I’m coming for you. Make sure there’s enough to put me in a food coma or I’ll be a sad stallion indeed. Don’t worry about fattening me up or anything, I’d feel insulted if you didn’t!” “S-Sure!” You respond, suddenly nervous.

                                            As you rise to your hooves, he begins a slow, plodding waddle to the Equestria-famous farm. You carry on in kind to the hotel, somehow still not behind schedule. How exactly is he going to make it there? You had trouble making that walk when you were only in the lower 200s, and he’s so big you question his ability to stand at all.

                                            Behind the counter of the inn stands a plain looking yellow unicorn, idly writing down some story. She is no exception to the slowly rising trend of fatness spreading around town, but for now it’s all gone into her plot and thighs, just accentuating what stallions and gay mares universally liked. She looks down at you and is caught off guard. She’s clearly not used to seeing ponies this fat. “Can I help you, li- miss?” She asks. ‘I can’t very well call her little, can I?’ You raise an eyebrow, not really sure what to make of her reaction to you. “I have a room booked with Sweetie Belle. It should be under ‘Sweetie Belle and Chocolate Pie’, I think in the suites?”

                                            She huffs, then drops a key onto your snoot. “Down that hallway, last door on the left. Wouldn’t want some pony like you to get some exercise on the stairs after all.” She mumbled that last sentence, but you could hear it easily. You ‘accidentally’ bump her desk with your beautifully oversized hip and take off, whistling innocently. She scowls. Her elegant poem is now smothered with ink and unreadable.


                                            You didn’t get nearly enough of a break from your oh so long journey for this short trip down the hall to not leave you exhausted. You hate this feeling. Being exhausted from doing so little makes you feel useless. If your memories of your old life remained, you’d remember this being precisely why you wanted to start over and NOT get fat – these were problems you encountered as a human. You fat fuck. For now, your weighty annoyances are by far outweighed by a combination of your usual day-to-day life being sedentary, and your massive appreciation for every other aspect of a gluttonous obese life. A gurgle in your belly tells you you’ve worked up an appetite. What you hate the most is how sweaty you are. You feel nasty, like you need a bath.

                                            You strain to reach the lock and swipe your keycard across it. It’s meant for stallions and mares, but it isn’t hard for a filly or a colt to reach it. A normal sized one, at least. You’re more than a little too fat and not nearly strong enough to put your forehooves on the wall and pull yourself up to the right height. Despite what you thought just now, you tried pulling yourself up to reach. The door and wall almost seem to crack, and your belly is squeezing against them so much it’s practically pushing your forehooves out of the way.

                                            You flop onto the floor as the door swings open, bumping into the wall. You’re panting heavily from the effort. Pushing all your weight on the door was a bad idea after all. Sweetie peeks her head outside the bathroom door, looking for the source of the disturbance. She blushes when she sees it’s you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, and you’re so much fatter than last time that it’s no surprise she’d be taken aback. “Choccy! You’re so… big!”

                                            “H-hey, Sweetie Belle!” You stutter, shakily trying to get back on your hooves. This is another time that ‘I should have done strength training’ crosses your mind. That earth pony strength buff can only go so far, after all. You’re too busy trying to catch your breath to try to say anything further. “Come on in. This room has a big hot tub. It looks like you could use the rest!”


                                            It’s like life wanted to slap you in the face this afternoon. Three times in the space of 5 minutes have you been made to feel useless by your weight. Sweetie Belle had to user her magic to get you back to your hooves, then again to lift you into the tub. She told you not to worry about it, but you could see it put a lot of strain on her to lift your mass. You chat back and forth for a bit. She’s put on a bit of weight herself, hitting a level you were not too long ago: 340 pounds. You outweigh her by nearly 100 pounds, while being ¾ of a foot shorter. She’s really supportive of your lifestyle, and actually tells you that it’s good that you’re getting so fat. “Living your life the way you want is the best way to live!” was the way she put it. Despite the description Sweetie gave for the tub, it wasn’t that spacious. You and the pudgy mare were pressing against each other, and your belly reached the other side of the tub.

                                            You could feel Sweetie feeling up your ample thighs and belly while she gave you a pep talk about your body. Like so many others, she really like you huge like this. She even floated in a steady supply of snacks to fill your gurgling belly. So many conflicting thoughts. You hate being a burden and having so much trouble doing simple things, but love glutting, lazing about, and being pampered like this. As the snacks you’re being fed grow from candy bars and cupcakes to full sized pies and cakes, Sweetie begins to tell you a story about how she met up with the rest of the CMC the other day. Since you haven’t really met the other two,

                                            AppleBloom looked a lot like her sister these days. It didn’t have the same sentimental meaning as Bright Mac’s old hat, but the younger Apple hoof-crafted one just like it and wore it around. She was a bit pudgier than Applejack, though. The older mare had put on a few after slowing down on the farmwork and taking over more of the late Granny Smith’s old cooking and selling jobs. Big Mac’s foals took up most of the farm work that he and Applejack weren’t covering, leaving AppleBloom free of any hard work. She instead split her time between CMC teaching duties at the School of Friendship, making and selling potions in her joint venture with Zecora, and only the best part of Sweet Apple Acres employment prospects: taste testing the goods. Gathering ingredients for potions gave her decent enough exercise, but the young Apple nevertheless had gotten quite plump, a bit chubbier than Sweetie Belle, and had those apple-bucking thighs that could squash a watermelon.

                                            Scootaloo was surprisingly the fattest of the group. It was ironic, since she was always the most athletic of the group. She tried a variant of that stunt with the rocket Lightning Dust set up, and ended up in the hospital for many moons. The depression of being a flightless Pegasus and having to give up her stunt career permanently hit her exceptionally hard, and she did a lot of comfort eating while she was bedridden. Having a nurse that was very encouraging of this behavior and brought her more than enough food for her every craving and providing belly rubs after each meal certainly didn’t help. She did finally get out of her depression, but it was too late: her eating habits were stuck, and her enlarged stomach capacity couldn’t be satisfied without utterly glutting herself. Everypony was plenty supportive though. Even Rainbow Dash, as thin and in-shape as ever, said she’d probably end up the same way in that circumstance, with all the honesty of Applejack. Sweetie Belle joked that Scootaloo looked a lot like you, just taller. She lived in the school dorms to make getting around easier. 540 pounds of blubber on a flightless Pegasus was a lot to carry.


                                            “So we met up with Princess Twilight and Prince Galaxy this week. She was really surprised to hear how big you’ve gotten!” Sweetie Belle is really going to town on you. She wedged a forehoof between your belly and your thigh, and if you weren’t so huge, she’d reach the prize. You have a pretty good idea what she’s doing with her other forehoof. The hot tub is getting really tight. Your belly, stuffed further and further with a never-ending feast of treats, is pressing harshly against the edge of the tub, spilling over the sides and starting to almost bury the young mare beside you. “She’s impressed! If you and your coltfriend can both break 500 pounds by The Gala, you’ll be perfect for the announcement!”

                                            You chuckle a little. Or at least try to, as a particularly hefty and calorie-ridden peanut butter pie is shoved into your maw. You forget that you and Caramel are just pawns in Princess Twilight and Prince Galaxy’s plans to spread fat acceptance throughout Equestria and beyond. It all seemed a bit pointless, considering how so many ponies were already getting fat and not really getting flak for it. Not that any of it bothered you. Free food, free housing, being pampered and treated like practically royalty, lots of ponies loving your massive gourmand of a body, and so, so much sex. If this life wasn’t what you and Caramel would have wanted to do anyway, you might be annoyed.

                                            You fail to suppress a loud moan of pleasure, and your face blushes beet red. Sweetie Belle has lost all control. The constant flow of food is still passing through your mouth even as you’re feeling really, really stuffed, and instead of slowing down, she’s feeling you up all over your body. Her magic is split in two places- one stuffing you to bursting, the other taking the shape of a particularly large dildo thrusting in and out of your excited cooch. You’re starting to hyperventilate a little, in between chews and swallows. Sensory overload, overstimulation, all so familiar yet so new. Your belly, well beyond stuffed, is starting to hurt, but the flow of food isn’t stopping. You’re practically filling the entire tub, and you swear you hear it straining. Sweetie Belle is laying on top of you, rubbing your obesity all over and licking the mess off your face. You’re normally a clean eater, but the way she’s been stuffing you is leaving chocolate and other sweets smothered over your facial blubber.

                                            You find yourself slipping away into fantasy, imagining yourself growing fatter in real time while an infinite flow of food floods into your infinitely expanding mass. Your fantasy is shattered as you feel a sharp pain in your stomach. Sweetie Belle is so lost in the moment she doesn’t realize that even your bottomless pit of a stomach has limits. You’re fit to burst, in the most literal sense possible. In a panic, you move Sweetie Belle just enough that her snoot touches yours, and begin making out with her. It’s not like it’s something you wouldn’t want to do anyway, but the flow of food needs to stop, as tasty as it is. You’re starting to lose consciousness, lulled into an ecstasy-filled food coma. The last thing you feel is the familiar feeling of an orgasm, and a wet substance spreading over your gut, which you’re pretty sure is Sweetie’s mare juice. It’s kind of hot.


                                            You wake up a few hours later. Somehow, you’re in the bed and fully cleaned up. It’s a king size bed, and your belly isn’t nearly as overstuffed, but you’re still taking up the majority of the width. Sweetie Belle is lying next to you, looking at you lewdly with that afterglow face. She’s been snacking on the leftover food you couldn’t have fit in your stomach, as evidenced by her engorged looking belly. “Choccy, you’re awake! I’m sooooo stuffed…” she moans, pleasurably. Her stomach capacity isn’t even close to yours. You know this, but it still feels weird that she’s giving up when her stomach isn’t distended double what it currently is. You yawn, only to have a big cake with thick, creamy filling inside it shoved inside your mouth. You freed up a lot of space, and can feel all that food’s aftermath on the rest of your body, but the tubby white mare seems intent on shoving every possible morsel of food into your gut.

                                            You’re too tired to resist, and the food tastes amazing anyway. As long as she doesn’t get carried away and nearly kill you from overfeeding again, you have no issues with this arrangement. Being fed and pampered like this is even nicer than shoveling the food in your mouth yourself. You can’t help but feel jealous of Sweetie Belle and Caramel. The things you could do if you had a horn and could cast magic… Then again, your weight gives you enough issues with your racial strength bonus intact. Would you even still be able to walk without it? Would it be a problem either way if you weren’t drugged that one time and gained weight naturally instead? Whatever the case, you have three moons to pack on at least 75 pounds if you want to accomplish what Sweetie and Princess Twilight apparently want at this year’s Gala, and you’ll take all the help you can get.

                                            You find yourself with a strong urge to repeat what you did with Caramel: Giving Sweetie a nice bite on the neck and pulling her into the batpony hybrid pool. Or is it more accurate to call it vampirism? Either way, you’re way too full, and tired, to even try moving enough to give her the bite, and you couldn’t get past the constant stream of food anyway. If this vampirism thing were dangerous, barely mobile blobs like you and Caramel were perfectly harmless carriers in the end.

                                            The clock on the bedstand reads 1AM. You’re so stuffed, you take up the entire bed. Sweetie Belle is laying on top of you, still forcefeeding you with just as much fervor as she had in the afternoon. She must have orgasmed three times while up there, and you’ve done so at least once yourself. She’s out of reach, leaving you without your defense mechanism from before. You feel about to burst, again, and have no way to stop it. You can’t tell what’s going to give out first: your stomach, Sweetie’s magic, the mysteriously-sourced pile of food, or the bed. You try to speak up, but can’t get a word in. With a crack, a snap, and a loud shake, you wince, fearing that you’ve burst. Feeling a heavy weight hop off your stomach makes you worry even more. Opening your eyes, you see that you’re perfectly fine, but the bed has collapsed. That sudden weight loss was just 340 pounds of unicorn jumping off in fright. Over 750 pounds was apparently too much for the bed to handle.

                                            You swallow the last cake that’s still stuffed in your mouth, and hear a distressing groan. Maybe this was a mistake. You fail to stifle a loud belch. You’re safe from explosions for now, but the old mare’s joke about a wafer-thin mint comes to mind. “S-Sweetie Belle, I-I don’t think my stomach can hold any more…” You manage to groan. Your tone is some weird mixture of sexual pleasure and pain. You drift off to sleep in another food coma. Sweetie just giggles, and starts eating some of the treats herself. It’s the damndest thing. Somehow, there’s still more food. Your sleepy thoughts make you think she just created the stuff out of thin air or something.


                                            The last time you woke up feeling like this, it was when you were drugged with that weight gain serum. You feel so… fat. More than usual. Sweetie Belle left a note saying she had to get going early and that you were all cleaned up. You blush, thinking of what she could have done to you while you were comatose. Your belly is empty and you’re hungry, but parts of your belly are still brushing the floor while you stand. The doorways in the hotel room were hard to squeeze through before, but you can’t even get into the restroom this morning. Leaving out the exit door is barely possible. How much fatter did you get? Everything about this feels so arousing. Maybe not the hunger…

                                            A maid pony stares at you in shock as she sees you waddling out of the room, and lets out a shriek when she sees what a mess the room is. The hallway feels so much longer than usual. Even the doorway leading outside feels too small for you, and you’re out of breath completely. To your surprise, a big wagon is parked right outside, with a familiar sight in the back. A team of five muscular stallions stood at the front, gossiping about cute mares they wanted to bang that night. In the cart was a familiar gray butterball. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite not-so-little filly!” a familiar voice cries out. It’s none other than Midnight Snack, looking as fat as ever. She’s comedically squeezed into an undersized set of royal guard gear. The armor plates and leather straps are buried in overflowing spheres of fat. Just one meal would easily pop the whole set off. It looks… really really hot to you.

                                            “You just don’t stop growing, do you?” She teases, oogling the extra heft on your frame as you slowly lumber your way up the ramp. “Y-you, huff, don’t look so, phew, fit yourself, blubberbat.” You pathetically retort, trying to utter words between breaths. The cart creaks and groans under a combined weight of over half a ton sitting in the back, but holds up. You flop on your plot, trying to catch your breath. You blush as you realize your belly is pressing against the opposite wall of the carriage. The carriage may be bigger than most, but it’s not much wider. Midnight tries to hide her own blushing behind her helmet.

                                            You give your belly a rub, kind of proud of its size. You can’t help but yearn for food, though. Your stomach undoubtedly stretched even further than before thanks to Sweetie’s overzealous, almost possessed-level, stuffing yesterday. Wherever you’re going, it had better have a HUGE breakfast ready for you. “Where are we going, Nighty?” You ask, hoping it involved food. The bigger bat shuffles in her seat, oogling your enlarged form with her slitted pupils. She easily has over 200 pounds on you, but you still feel like the fatter one. That nine inch difference in height made so much difference. You feel like a blimp filled with lard. The first thing you want to do, besides sate the ever-growing hunger in your gut, is find a scale. How much weight did you put on in one enchanted night?

                                            Midnight gives into her urges, and she climbs on top of you in an embrace. You hear metal and leather straining to encompass her mass as she hugs your belly, squeezing it and using it as a pillow. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaa so soft~~~~~” She moans, getting real comfy. “We’re heading to a private breakfast with your colt Caramel, Prince Galaxy, and Princess Twilight, to discuss some stuff for the future.” She lifts her head off your belly and looks at you with a pouty face. “C-Choccy,  do you think I could stay with you? If things go wrong, I mean…”

                                            You look down at her, squishing your tubular double chin into your barrel, with an expression that’s a cross between confusion and concern. “What do you mean?” Midnight begins to rub a forehoof around in circles on your belly, like one normally does with a table. “Well, Prince Galaxy said I look great, but he might have to fire me from the royal guard because I’m so… so fat! If I break one more set of armor, I’m out of the guard!” It made sense. A guard that could barely waddle, and required an armor refit after every meal wasn’t exactly somepony you could trust guard a bowl of candy. She’d probably eat it. That armor wasn’t going to last another meal, even if she took it off to eat and put it back on the following day.

                                            You give her a quick boop on the snoot and smile. The sheer unbridled obesity of your face must make your smile look exceptionally endearing, because Midnight’s own blubbery face spread a wide smile before you could even verbalize a reply. “Of course you can, Nighty,” you reply. Having a third party in the house that’s fatter than everypony else could work as some competitive encouragement. Isn’t that something? Just yesterday you were feeling down because your sheer mass and impaired mobility is having serious negative impacts on your ability to do simple day to day tasks, yet now you’re all up in arms about trying to gain over twenty pounds per moon. What a submissive slut to your fetishes you are.


                                            The cart stops at the Castle of Friendship. It’s as private a place as any. You and Midnight lumber off the cart, much to the relief of the exhausted pulling team. One mutters something about getting overtime pay. You and the blubbery bat look at each other and chuckle. You’re like twins: just as tired from waddling off a cart toward a nearby doorway as one another, and you’ve even got matching eyes and fangs.

                                            The main room has been temporarily retrofitted to be a big dining hall. Three of the five seats are filled. On the far left is Prince Galaxy, looking as enormous as ever. He’s dressed in some form of princely regalia, but it fits about as well as Midnight’s armor. ‘I guess a Prince doesn’t need to be all that mobile and combat-ready, heh.’ You think. The armor makes his enormity look full of rolls, but you know from your prior meeting he’s much more rounded out like you are. Next to him is Princess Twilight. She’s surprisingly thin, much smaller than she looked when you first arrived. She’s a little chubby, with a pot belly, the formation of a double chin, and some really nice thighs and plot area, but otherwise looks like how your history books depicted Princess Cadence. Based on what Miss Cheerilee taught you in class, she’s still growing to her full Alicorn size. Next to her is, of course, Caramel Sweets. Somepony must have put him through the same thing Sweetie Belle did to you, because he’s looking so much fatter than he did the last time you saw him.

                                            The royal couple is busy chatting with each other and cuddling. You wonder how they do anything, with her so small compared to him. Caramel is caressing his belly as if he’s trying to get used to its new size. You take a seat next to him and poke his belly, blushing at how soft it is. “Who fattened you up?” You ask, giving it a rub. “O-oh! Choccy! Prince Galaxy and this food reviewer, Gourmand something, actually. We were discussing plans for the future and kinda… kinda went overboard with the food.” He blushes and squirms a little. “E-every time I felt full, they made me eat more, and more, and more.” He leans over and starts whispering to you.  “They kept saying my future would be to look just like them. Imagine me, weighing over a ton! H-have you ever, felt, well, you know… Stimulated? Sexually? By overfilling your stomach while being told how fat you are and how much fatter you’ll be?” You cover your mouth with a hoof to stifle a small moan, and nod. He went on to describe having multiple food comas and orgasms, passing out around 4 in the morning after his eighth near-bursting stuffing of the day.

                                            “Ah, you made it, Chocolate!” Prince Galaxy exclaims, finally noticing a half-ton addition to the party. “Midnight, come on! Have a seat. Breakfast is about to be served.” Your closest female pony friend sheepishly sits in the last remaining chair, trying not to make her shifting belly fat pop the armor already. Princess Twilight spoke up. “How is everypony? My chubby hubby talked to Caramel yesterday about our plans for the Gala. Did Sweetie Belle tell you, Chocolate?” You nod, not used to speaking to royalty. Why are you being so shy suddenly? Twilight was really casual when you talked to her way back when, and she’s no more a princess now than she was then. “I’m surprised either of you could get a word in edgewise. She was practically dripping when I gave her the food summoning spell.”

                                            Princess Twilight looks at you with the lewdest expression possible. “I knew it was a good idea letting Pinkie raise you. You’ve plumped up so good, and judging by your coltfriend and what you’ve done to my chubby hubby’s favorite guard, not to mention that filly Creamsicle, you’re perfect for spreading those gluttonous desires around.~” You gulp. How did she find out about Creamsicle? Not that she was wrong, it’s kind of your fault she found her talent in binge-eating ice cream and gaining nearly 300 pounds in such a short time. Twilight turns to nudge Prince Galaxy, which is enough rippling fat force to pop that royal necklace off of him. “See, Glowy? If we raised her, she’d be an immobile one-ton blob and we’d have scandals about you trying to bone your adoptive daughter!” Galaxy stutters and fumbles around embarrassed, blushing and squirming. He really REALLY likes being teased like this while having his sheer enormity pointed out to him.

                                            He quickly regains his composure, sinks down a bit, and tries to act like he didn’t just snap a royal necklace with his neck, or the sides of his chair with his plot. “ANYWAY we’re at an understanding, right? Our big, fat protégés will show up the Gala as symbols of health, wealth, and unrestrained culinary hedonism. Rarity will be commissioned to make the two of you some really nice clothes that may, or may not, hold up to your colossal girths and even more enormous appetites, and we’ll have the fattest young couple in all of Equestria. If all goes well, any stigma against obesity will disappear, and my tubby wubby pony waifu can finally let go! As soon as she finishes her Alicorn growth spurts, that is.”

                                            “Caramel,” Twilight adds, blushing at her husband’s last couple sentences. “You might be fat enough already, but by all means don’t stop what you’re doing. Chocolate, you’re probably having enough trouble getting around as it is, but you’ll need to plump up to at least 500 pounds for this to work out in the best way possible.”

                                            A veritable mountain range of food appears on the table. Each pile is as big as you imagine Sweetie’s forcefeeding stash was yesterday. Hay sausages, pancakes and waffles smothered with pounds of butter and syrup, danishes, haybacon, donuts, chocolate milk, everything under the sun that could constitute a fattening breakfast was there. In your pile, the haybacon and hay sausage are replaced with exceptionally calorie-dense pies. The room erupts in a cacophony of belly rumbles; everypony was holding off on eating for the sake of this meal. Surprisingly, you’re the first one to dig in, shoving one of those pies right into your mouth whole. Over your chewing, you hear Prince Galaxy give a totally militaristic-sounding order. “Midnight, despite what you might be thinking, don’t hold back. Nopony leaves this table without eating their fill. Or more.”


                                            It feels like it’s been hours. It may have been hours. Without a clock or a window outside, you can’t tell what time it is. Your stomach feels fit to burst, just like it did twice yesterday. You couldn’t help yourself, it was all just so good. There are three pies left, stuffed with so much heavy cream and peanut butter they’re oozing. You can’t reach over your overengorged stomach to reach them. A familiar glow surrounds them, and all three are shoved into your mouth at once. You really shouldn’t have had them, according to the stabbing pain in your gut, but you swallow all of them down and give a wink to Caramel. His stomach is equally overstuffed to the max. He polishes off one last triple haysausage burger, with donuts as the bun, and winces at his stomach’s agony.

                                            Looking to your left, you see Midnight, lost in a daze of gluttony. She’s turned her chair around and is using her otherwise useless wings to shovel more and more food into her straining stomach. The entire torso of her armor set has snapped off. The metal parts are visibly dented and bent, and the leather looks like it stretched as far as possible before exploding. Her helmet has been pushed off by how full she’s stuffing her cheeks. For now, the foreleg and hind leg armor is holding on, but the digestion weight gain is likely to put that to rest. The way the armor is straining to wrap around her massive thighs is lighting a fire inside you.

                                            Back to your right, you catch a glimpse of Twilight. Her head is slung back with a face contorted in an all-too-familiar expression of hedonistic pleasure. Her stomach is stretched as large as Caramel’s entire body. If only the rest of her body grew to match…

                                            Finally, across from you, is none other than Prince Galaxy. You can’t see any of him but his belly, stuffed and bulging enough to spill over and cover a pretty significant portion of the table. A constant stream of food continues to flood into his maw. He isn’t going to stop until he’s about to burst, not that any of you could judge him. He just happens to weigh 3-4 times as much as everypony else at the table and clearly there was a reason for it. All of his royal regalia was either laying loosely on his belly, or had fallen off to the sides.


                                            To your surprise, a bright purple ring of magic lifts three gigantic looking cakes and flies them over to your left. The cakes themselves look like they’ve gone on a binge, fit to bursting with some sort of filling. Midnight looks even more overstuffed than you and your nearly-comatose coltfriend are. The old mare’s joke about a wafer-thin mint comes to your mind again. And yet, the trio of cakes, large enough to take you from empty to sated alone, are forcefed down her throat. You’re too close to passing out to make any physical indication of emotion, but internally you’re panicked. Did Twilight just kill your friend? To your surprise, and Midnight’s, there was no bursting to be had. Instead, her body rumbled, then… expanded. Her belly surged out even further than before. Her plot and thighs bloated up enough to not only break the sides of her already-tight chair, but also snapped off the armor that was desperately clinging to her thighs. Her helmet clanked on the table, her bloated cheeks and tube of facial fat having pushed it off. She looks like she’s put on a good thirty pounds in an instant. You look back at Twilight, bewildered and sleepy. She looks at you and giggles. “Oops, that’s a dangerous spell. I should be more careful.”


                                            It must be evening by now. There’s no way to tell. With the exception of Prince Galaxy, everypony around has digested off their huge meals and no longer looks bloated. Yeah, not bloated, just wearing that meal on their bodies as a pretty much permanent addition of fat. Princess Twilight looks groggy and ever so slightly chubbier. You and Caramel are equally sleepy, but are far more noticeably fatter. Midnight is at a loss for words. Thanks to Twilight’s evil spell, which she probably would have tried on a certain filly if she weren’t about to burst at the time, not one shred of armor was left on the bat pony’s bulbous body, and she had easily put on some ridiculously high amount of fat. Prince Galaxy, on the other hand, was splayed out on the floor, laying on his back, with his reddened and straining belly bulging at least twice as large as it already was. It’s like he just now stopped eating.

                                            Twilight catches a glimpse of her husband, and a look of annoyance spreads across her face. At the same time, she’s blushing deeply, and her face occasionally twitches to a lewd expression for a split second. “Glowy overdid it again.” She sighs, teleporting in a few tired and chubby looking nurses. The heaviest one, who reminded you of a slightly thinner version of your first meeting with Midnight, looks at Twilight and nods. They get to work, trying to soothe the over-engorged stallion’s stomach.

                                            “I have to get back to Canterlot,” Twilight chuckles, almost sounding sad that she has to get back to ruling an entire nation. “I think we’ve covered everything here. I’ll get you three home. Chocolate, tell Midnight she’s officially in your employ when she snaps out of it.” Before you can reply, there’s a flash of light. The items on the shelves and counters rattle violently as three corpulent equines suddenly appear in a familiar place: your home.

                                            The sound of three bellies rumbling in hunger simultaneously echoes throughout the house. Midnight snaps out of her trance and stands up, her belly spreading across the floor and making her blush the brightest red. Thinking quickly, in a way only a permanently ruined glutton can, you tell your now-permanent maid to solve the most pressing issue. “Midnight, order the biggest delivery from Sugarcube Corner and Cherry Cream you can. Balloon Belly, let’s go weigh ourselves.” “After you, blubber butt.” Caramel chuckles. “Weigh yourself when you’re done ordering, Midnight.” He adds.


                                            The scale only gave credence to your theory that the weekend’s food had a bit of that old serum in it. Not that you couldn’t guess from just a glance at all that fat. You outweigh your own adoptive mother now, topping out at 450 pounds. You plumped up 25 pounds in a weekend? That weight gain serum was at work for sure! You waddle out and flop your huge plot on the couch, easily taking up 3/5 of the available space. At least you only need to gain 50 pounds in three moons now.

                                            Caramel squeezes himself onto the couch next to you. His comparably smaller plot nevertheless hardly has room, and he has to struggle to fit in, ultimately lifting and plopping his belly fat on top of your meaty thigh. It’s a tight squeeze, yet feels comfortable. You ask him what the scale said. “That we need a new couch, blubber butt. You’ll take up the whole thing yourself before too long.” You blush. You’d probably have to weigh as much as Midnight for that to be true, but you’re well on the way already. “Oh, uh… 510 pounds. Looks like I’ve already hit the goal!” As usual, Caramel one-upped you, gaining 30 pounds for your 25. Any semblance of being bothered by always being a step behind is lost in the flowing blubbery sphere of his belly.

                                            Midnight stumbles out of the restroom, shaking. This is the first you’ve been able to see her in her new enormity. She’s wider than she is tall, and her belly is pressing against the floor at all times. She could probably fill up most, if not all of this couch with her plot alone. You HOPE you look this good when you get that big. You’re drooling. “S-SEVEN HUNDRED EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” She shrieks. You can’t tell if she’s excited or scared. She one-upped Caramel at least. 35 pounds in a weekend was huge.

                                            The doorbell rings, and your undressed maid waddles her way to the door. She’s clearly having some trouble with that extra weight, but manages. A chubby stallion and even chubbier mare walk in, pulling multiple huge carts of food. It’s enough to feed an entire banquet. The pair mumbles to each other politely, then stops to look at Midnight, then at you and Caramel. They then look at each other and nod, having received the answer to all the questions they had. At the very least, you didn’t have to worry about reaching your weight goals at this rate.


                                            The day has finally arrived, and everypony is fatter than before. Rarity is pacing around the dressing room, shouting and grumbling, all the while sporting quite the belly. It pales in comparison to even Spike’s six-pack abs, but the obesity epidemic certainly didn’t leave the vain element of generosity alone. Not that her chad dragon minded her extra pudge. Rarity straddled the line between “thicc” and “chubby”, only recently developing a second chin and sizeable permanent layer of belly blubber. Her belly was distended with an entire freezer of ice cream as she stressed over final preparations. She should have known that the ponies she was making Gala attire for were the types to grow over time, but she wasn’t expecting everypony to outgrow their wardrobes in a week. Ironically, her own Gala outfit wouldn’t be fitting very well with all that stress eating she was doing.

                                            Prince Galaxy had already settled for some royal jewelry and a tuxedo. His shapely and massive posterior somehow fit in the pants portion, even if they only accentuated his sheer mass. The tuxedo shirt barely covered his barrel, and the buttons weren’t going to last even an hour. Despite his intentions to slim down to a more manageable level of obesity, something he could do easily thanks to some spells he and Twilight were researching, he instead gained another hundred pounds of fat and showed no signs of stopping. The prince looked kind of ridiculous like this. The outfit is meant to cover the whole body, but a gigantic sphere of light blue blubberbelly bulges between the woefully undersized shirt and the plot-enhancing pants. He never uttered it, but you have a very strong feeling that he was far from enthusiastic about the concept of wearing clothes. It feels familiar, but you shrug it off as just being too fat for pony clothing to fit comfortably.

                                            Princess Twilight gave some comforting words to Rarity and took off. The princess’s Gala Gown had a little unexpected tightness in the rear, especially on the thighs, but looked bedazzling and ultimately flawless. Her growth spurt and metabolism only let her get the slightest bit chubbier than the last time you saw her, but she was more noticeably taller.


                                            You’re blushing profusely, and your already massive cheeks feel like they’re inflated. To deal with particularly rotund clients, Rarity’s shops have lift systems, allowing easier access around the clients’ bellies. You, Caramel, and Midnight are all on these lifts, standing shakily and supporting your considerable weights on your own four hooves, not able to sit down. Rarity is stressing, trying to let out your dress enough to fit around your particularly huge belly. Between the dress and the measuring tape, she’s squeezing your belly rather tightly. Your tail is being held up out of the way as well, but you’re right in front of the main window. Rarity either doesn’t know or doesn’t care that your rear is fully exposed to every passerby, and despite how large and blubbery it is, your ponut and vagina are in full view. You’re not exactly a prude, but you aren’t THIS much of a slut.

                                            Rarity grumbles about just how fat you three are, how obnoxious this whole obesity thing is, and some other undesirable things. It’s clear she’s just stressed, considering how upbeat she previously was about the designs and how the excess blubber makes them look even better. You can’t fault her, either: everypony should have come in for refitting more than a couple hours before go-time, and probably shouldn’t have celebrated the night before with such a huge binge.

                                            Caramel wimpers, but doesn’t have the courage to say anything. His suit, much like Prince Galaxy’s, has already been let out as far as it could go without being rebuilt entirely, so he was standing without much purpose. All the buttons on the shirt and jacket were strained, letting puffs of blue squeeze out in between. The pants relied entirely on the size of his belly to hide the fact that neither the button nor belt could be clasped together. Nearly all of his massive blue belly could be seen in between the two. Over the past three moons, he managed to put on another two inches of height, but also gained one hundred pounds of lard, putting him at 610 pounds. You’ve grown as well, of course, by one inch of height and eighty pounds of blubber, putting you at 530 pounds with such a short stature. Of course, he doesn’t have that earth pony strength buff. Not that it’s helped you that much.

                                            At the end of the line is Midnight, who ironically had the most conservative gains. Fifty pounds of additional blubber put her at 750 pounds. She’s still the fattest of the trio, but hasn’t been nearly as ravenous as you and Caramel. Even still, letting her dress out would be difficult.


                                            Rarity pouts a little and lets out a sigh. The dress fits snugly and tightly around your stomach, but at least fits at all. Your flanks and plot are left completely uncovered, though. It’s pretty much just a very tight blouse at this point. Your lift, along with Caramel’s, lower to the ground, and with the dissipation of some blue magic, your tail is finally allowed to show some form of modesty. You bite your lip for a second, thinking of how many ponies got a free show out of your green flanks. Caramel nearly flops on his plot right away, before having daggers stared into his soul by Rarity. “You will SIT on the CHAIR like a civilized pony, and so help me if you carelessly pop a button or tear a seam!” She shouts, not wanting her work immediately ruined. He wimpers and drags his corpulence to a seat, sitting as carefully as possible.

                                            You waddle over to Rarity, carefully putting a hoof on her shoulder. You haven’t felt this bad about your weight since you met the poor craftspony that had to rebuild those school desks you kept breaking. “S-sorry I’m so short and fat, Rarity. I-if I were taller, I’d at least not be so round at this weight…” You console her, stuttering a little nervously, out of concern she’d snap at you too. She looks at you and smiles a tired smile, giving you a little boop and poking your cheeks. “It’s quite alright dear. One can’t help their height. Many stallions find shorter mares cuter, after all. I’ll take my frustrations on Prince Whale later. I know he’s to blame for this enormity in the end.”

                                            You take a seat next to Caramel, taking great care for your belly to not tear the glorified blouse to shreds. Rarity gets to work on Midnight, squeezing her gut and resizing her dress as best she can. Rather than embarrassment, Midnight’s expression emits nothing but pleasure. If only you were a unicorn, then you could do the squeezing for her. Maybe you can ask Caramel to try it. His magic is still pretty weak, but maybe he can at least manage to grope some belly fat with it.


                                            Most of the Gala celebration was a blur. Prince Galaxy stepped out on stage to announce the opening with his shirt already burst open and a pretty clear indication that his speech’s entire prep time was spent eating. Despite his (very well deserved) reputation for gluttony and sheer obesity, the crowd was shocked by how large he was. There was never a known time where he wasn’t fat, but he had seriously blown up. The last time he made an official public appearance like this, he was closer to your weight. A big, tall, quarter-ton-plus stallion that only outweighed you by twenty pounds while dwarfing you by 14 inches. What a sight that would be! The rumors you overheard never specified a time frame, but no matter how long it’s been, ballooning from 550 pounds to 2300 was an unprecedented amount of weight gain. While he kept his composure the whole time, he looked like he was about to fall over during the whole speech.

                                            The opening ceremony marked the beginning and end of your formal involvement in the affair, thankfully. Prince Galaxy called the three of you up, introduced you as “Equestria’s hot new couple plus maid”, and went on for a few minutes about how great it was that a brave trio were fighting against expectations or some other nonsense. The stage was crowded, and with over two tons of blubber on it, some concerning creaks and groans could be heard. Your right side was squishing into Prince Galaxy’s side, your left was doing the same to Caramel’s side. Midnight clumsily tripped and bumped her snoot into your rear before ashamedly taking her place on the edge of the small stage.

                                            Prince Galaxy invited you three to an area to the side. There weren’t any real private areas at the Gala, so anypony could just walk up at any time if they wanted to, but it was a little quieter than the rest of the place. Being a trio of ponies that could hardly walk across the street without becoming exhausted, you obliged. He must have planned on that outcome, because each of the seats at his table were perfectly fitted for each of you. The prince shoveled down a small pile of food dangerously fast, and struggled to catch his breath. “Um, are you… alright, Prince Galaxy?” you ask, concerned.

                                            He huffs and puffs a bit, and you can see his belly surge a good two inches wider in diameter as he lets out a deep exhale. He had been sucking his belly in for the speech, not that it made much difference. “Now you three know a secret that only Twilight and Sweetie Belle used to know: I’m a stress eater. I eat to deal with stress, I eat to relieve it when it’s done, then I eat whenever I’m hungry or just want to taste something.” He lets out a sigh, leans back a bit, and starts rubbing his behemoth of a belly with his forehooves. “Though I can’t say I don’t like the end results. You can stop sucking in your guts and eat, by the way.”

                                            A sigh of relief escapes the trio’s mouths. Midnight’s dress slightly tears around the widest parts of her belly. Caramel’s tuxedo pops a few buttons as his belly flows to full size. Try as you might, you can’t relieve the pressure on your own belly. The fabric, tight as it is, must be stronger than Midnight’s dress. Maybe if you stuff yourself enough, you can escape. You dig into a huge tray of desserts just as the waiter sets it down. Midnight follows suit.

                                            Prince Galaxy chuckles and caresses Caramel’s belly with his magic. “Big blue belly-heavy unicorn… Caramel, you’re basically me from a year ago, except you’re so much younger and haven’t reached your full height yet. You better watch out, young colt. You’re looking at your future.” He teases. It was true, Caramel was well on his way to becoming another one ton blue stallion. “Come to think of it, you’re half my age, and still have that extra youth metabolism. By Celestia, you’ll outweigh me by the time you’re a stallion! I know you wanted to go home after the Gala, but you should stay here in Canterlot for a few moons.”

                                            “As a fellow unexercised stallion of rotund stature,” the prince continued, cheesily phrasing his statement in a sort of faux-intellectualism. “I know we’re the weakest Equestrians in terms of physical strength. There’s a spell that can help with that, and you’ll need it. Like me, you’re not exactly going to lose weight. Your magical skills are below average, so we’ll have to train you up.”

                                            It was settled. The unicorn who could barely cast basic spells, the bat pony who couldn’t fly, and the earth pony who could cook and eat better than she could grow crops were going to be staying in Canterlot for some time. You’ve always heard the Canterlot cusine was good, but would it hold up to Cherry Cream and Sugarcube Corner? After a loud tear, you fail to stifle a belch and a sigh of relief. Your dress finally gave out, just as Rarity showed up. The last thing you remember from that night was her shrill shrieking, followed by her fruitlessly pounding on Prince Galaxy’s stomach.