Sensational

Sapphire Shores was the end all be all, the premier, the leading lady, the most famous fashion idol this side of fillydelphia, she was the trendsetter, the star maker, the giver and taker of dreams, the ruler of world of fabric from Friendship City to Fillydeldphia.

She was also starting to get a bit chubby.

Not that anyone on set was going to tell her that. Not even you, you just had to follow her orders and hope the audience didn’t realize her outfits were nearly three sizes too small.

“Where is my tailor!?” Her deep lilting, yet oh so feminine voice rung out from her dressing room.

You shuddered in your horseshoes.

“Y-yes Ms.Shores?” You peek your head through the doors.

She’s facing away from you, her bare, pale tan flank facing directly towards you. She has her tail in a wrap, though you can still see it twitching agitatedly above her generous flanks.

Her very generous flanks.

Damnit, this was going to be harder than you’d assumed. That last review in Fetlock Fancy was scathing at the best, and she’d obviously been eating away her sorrows. Heck, even from here you could see the cake crumbs on her cheeks....You meant the ones on her face of course.

Her rump had swelled quite a fair bit, it still managed to stay fairly round, but darn it all if she wasn’t starting to get a bit of ass cleavage around her thighs. It jiggled with every wiggle of her tail as it waved around agitatedly.

“Tailor!” she called again, and your eyes went to the pair of tights on a rack next

to the dressing stage.

You gulped.

She appeared to finally notice you were there. She was chewing something, damnit she really wasn’t going to make this any easier for you was she?

“Um...Y-yes Ms.Shores?”

“We go live in twenty minutes. Why am I not dressed yet? I need to look Seeeeeennnnsational!~”

You try to be reasonable. To defer her wrath to some intern. “Well um...I have lots of stuff to do perhaps one of the others coul-”

“No! I pay you to be my tailor, no one else is fit enough to dress me.” she huffed. “We’ll show those critics. Every one of them. We’ll show them who’s old hat, who’s a hasbeen, who’s not at the top of her game. Now Get. Me. Dressed.”

You sigh, your fate has been sealed. You’d managed it other times, with enough pulling and the occasional sneaky bit of duct tape. But this time you weren’t sure you could fit that ponderous posterior into any pair of pantalones, let alone one as form fitting as that on the rack...but she was Sapphire Shores, a word from her could ruin you, on the decline or not.

So you take a breath and step forwards, you can feel the heat radiating off her smooth cheeks, she was really angry this time. You take the garment between your nimble earth pony lips and step even closer, her rump is swaying with some tune in her head as she waits expectantly, you’re forced to watch the chub as it shifts, taunting you, asking you how in the world you were going to get it all into the tiny thing in your mouth.

You take a breath and get started.

“Left hoof first, I’m feelin’ the luck in this little hoof’a mine.” she practically sings, her deep bassy voice shaking her whole body, but one place in particular.

You nod, it’s all you can do, you watch yourself in the mirror, wondering where you went wrong. Her hoof slid in easy enough, the smooth fabric traveling up her leg, it got harder and harder to pull as you got to her thighs, the roundness becoming more obvious as the tights filled out. The juicy chub of those hind legs starting to bunch above it, more and more, spilling down to actually rub against the top of your nose, you whimpered, knowing you could pull it no farther, but trying still because you know if you stop she’ll be angry.

She has to notice, accept that this won’t fit. But she shows no signs of doing so. With a breath you tug, straining against that fat, which just gives under your efforts, bunching up and spilling over the sides, the heat making you sweat a bit, some of the fabric already vanishing into her crack at the tightness. But still you try, you try and try, but every pull just sends her cheeks jiggling, still bare in all their tan glory. You’ve known for years she hides her cutiemark with makeup, it makes the mountains of flesh seem even more daunting, just a giant curve of smooth featureless flesh, jiggling above you.

She yawns, you get the feeling she’s faking it. “I’m feeling my right hoof now. Try that Tailor.” she puts her left hoof down and wiggles the right, It taunts you, but you obey.

You leave your efforts at her left, bending down to take the fabric of the right leg of the garment between your lips. Knowing it’s fruitless you pull upwards, the first few inches of going quite easy as the smooth fabric slides across her smooth skin, but you know the familiar pressure when it starts to rear it’s head, the pressing against your nose, the skin of her thighs turning softer, rounder as it comes up to the curve of her ass. You whimper pathetically as it becomes once again harder and harder, to pull, your face is sweating now from the heat she puts off. And you can hear her.

In front of you, she’s munching something. She really doesn’t care. Does she even know that every little calore she takes in makes your job harder? That this is where it ends up, in mountains of giving flesh that put any fashionable size in a corner and beats it into submission?

She has to be in denial.

But still you pull, reaching the halfway point of her ass with enormous effort, the bottom half at the very least covered with fabric, the colorful, admittedly slightly garish pattern strained and stretched to its limits already. Her cheeks are squashed to their limits the skin actually reddening with how tight they are, the bottom half squeezing upwards into a muffintop that’s more of a mountain top, the flesh spilling over so badly you can’t even see, it’s covered the upper half of your face as you pull.

You give another whimper as she shows no signs of letting you stop..

You pull harder and harder, straining, grunting as you try your hardest to pull it up, to end this torture. You let go of the fabric of the right leg and decide to attack the problem at its center.

You press forwards into her crack, your nose is halfway between her cheeks before you can even get the fabric between your teeth, your world covered in warm soft darkness as you begin to pull upwards, the pressure around your head increasing as those globes of flesh strain to stay free.

You can actually feel her cheeks clenching around your nose. Whether she’s trying to help you or make it worse only Celestia knows.

You pull and you strain and you groan, but that ass shows no signs of giving.

No.

You would not let this beat you. You had gotten this far, you were going to tame that ass.

You steel your legs, bracing yourself against the dressing stage. You give a growl a manticore would be frightened by.

And you pull.

You strain.

You sweat.

And that ass starts to give.

You feel the pressure around your face increased as the fabric starts to rise. The cheeks bubbling up as if trying to escape as more and more of them is trapped in that tight garment.

Finally you get it over the midway point, the rest of it pops in like a bubble pulling into shape, you fall back, exhausted, watching it jiggle with amazement.

“Wow...I actually got it on...” you say before you have time to think.

“What?...Did you say?” you hear her voice, it makes your blood run cold.

“I-I-” You stutter.

“You...actually got it on? You mean...you didn’t expect it to fit?”

“N-no I mean....I just meant that I-”

“Then why. Did you make it?” she asked plainly, her voice dangerously calm.

“I...I made it to your exact specifications!” You implore.

“Then are you saying my orders were wrong? That I don’t know my own size?”

You shake your head trying to do some damage control. “I-”

She cuts you off there, she whirls around, surprisingly strong, and slams you into the wall, you try to get up, but as quick as she turned, she turns back and you find her plump plushy plot pressing you to the wall, right under your chin, your hooves pinned by the sheer size of the thing. You were really starting to notice she was a fair bit bigger than most ponies, not even taking her recent weight into account. Her cheeks are actually starting to engulf your neck, pressing against your stomach, making it hard to breath.

“Please...I...” You gasp.

She presses back even harder,her ass rolling along the wall like pressed dough. your whole body starting to sweat from the sweltering pressure. You can hear the fabric straining.

“No. No more words. I thought you were on my side, that all the critics were wrong. That I, Sapphire Shores still had one believer. But no, you think I’m fat just like the rest of them.”

“No I- Mpphh!!”

Suddenly she bends down on her forelegs, hiking her rump up, her cheeks envelop your muzzle, and suddenly you can’t speak, you can hardly breathe, what little breath you can take filled with makeup and her natural scent, she looks up at you over her shoulder, her eyes burning like coals with anger as she ramps up the pressure. You can see patches of fabric starting to stretch apart under her weight.

A part of your heart breaks as the fabric gives up.

Suddenly your fleshy prison gets a lot hotter. Her flesh spills from the rips like a freed sea. That ponderous plot refusing to be held in check, long seams burst down along her thighs, which envelop your hooves. Her cheeks spilling out in horizontal strips of pale soft flesh.

“You’re fired.” she says, low and dangerous.

And with that she bends down lower on her forelegs, standing on the tips of her hind hooves ever so slowly. Her cheeks rise to cover the rest of your face, your eyes widen right before they’re buried by her bountiful cheeks. Your world is covered in hot darkness as her ass engulfs your face, what little breath you could get turning to nothing as every attempt to breath is stifled by a backflow of hot fatty flesh. You open your mouth to try and gasp only for it to be gagged by warm chub, her taste on your tongue.

You struggle and thrash, but you have no leverage, any movement you manage to make swallowed by the ultimate shock absorber, that legendary ass.

As you blackout you can practically see her looking at you over her shoulder, she’s smiling, her eyes lidded.

Your world is dark, soft heat as he cheeks smother you into unconsciousness.

She finally steps forwards and you slump to the ground.

On some level you hear her as she struts out.

“I have that effect on ponies.”

End

Author's Note

Comments keep these stories going guys. More comments=More ass.