A Little Cream for a Lotta Coco

Photo Finish had kept her composure up to when her coach reached her house, up to when she opened the door and went inside, and up to when she closed the door. She held it as she locked it securely, then proceeded to lock all of her doors and closed her curtains. She held it as she dimmed all the lights inside and as she made her way out of her regular house into her basement. She held it as she locked the door behind her, walked down to open a red door, stepped inside the room, and locked it behind her.

Only now did she allow her cool demeanor to dissolve with a shudder and many flicks of her tail. Her planned visit had not gone how she had expected at all. How could one meek pony, she thought to herself, leave me so confused? She lifted her left hoof up and stared at it, the lingering feeling on it sending shivers through her body; it was the feeling of pressing into something soft and warm.

The thought of the mare grew heavier and heavier in her mind. She turned away from the door and focused on the red-lit workspace around her, trying to figure out what she needed to do for tomorrow. But she could only think of that one mare.

She was walking up the creaking steps of a far-too-small apartment complex, trying to reach the room of her newest prospective employee. She had been hired five weeks ago after Photo had heard of her talents from a friend in Ponyville. She had been eager enough to come down, but Photo had worried about her timid fidgety nature. Beyond that, though, she had proven to be a quick-witted pony who could go above and beyond, and usually did to yield the best results. If Photo could get rid of her nervousness, the upstart could become a great costumer.

The run-down apartment was a financially-savvy choice for the pay Photo had given the aspiring mare, if not a little on the cheap side. It was enough to support oneself, but not enough to live luxuriously. Still, even with her smallish pay, employees would find at least a decent apartment, and not something in the slums of Canterlot. Maybe this new employee was used to it, or maybe she didn’t know how to handle money, or didn’t know her way around Canterlot.

It didn’t matter to her; as long as she was willing to work hard, she would go far in Canterlot. So Photo reached the second-to-top floor to a green door chipped in places. This was her address; Photo Finish’s eidetic memory told her that much. She caught the familiar scent of spaghetti inside. She thought to herself that perhaps her potential new employee was living high after all.

Hopefully she was indulging. As a prospective employee, she deserved it.

Photo shook these pleasant thoughts from her head and knocked on the door.
“Oh, uh, just a moment!” she heard the mare inside stutter from inside. Photo heard some clattering from within and assumed she was putting down dinner. She took a step away from the door and stared straight at it, to get a final moment of intimidation to test for weakness. No sooner had she done so did a stallion walk up from behind and knock as well. It was so quick she was actually startled.

“Sorry, ma’am!” he screeched in a prepubescent voice. “I’m here to deliver these pizzas to a miss Coco Pommel.”

Photo nodded at the door. It seemed as though Coco was indulging more than she had thought. She entertained a notion of Coco sitting on her couch just eating away; this would be a shock for her. She stood staring again at the door.

“Coming!” the mare yelled, and then she heard steps. They weren’t normal steps, though; they weren’t normal steady beats, but heavy tut-tut tut-tuts as if she were lightly lumbering. Maybe she had been asleep, but Photo was getting impatient. She was going to give this upstart a lesson on being late she wouldn’t soon forget. An employee had to be reliable and on-time.

The door opened, and all Photo Finish’s plans, calculations and thoughts were arrested. The mare that opened it dropped the sack of bits she had had in her mouth.

It was Coco Pommel, but not as she had appeared before Photo Finish. Where there was once a slender neck, there was now one with small rolls and bulges. Where there was once a chest that shrunk from anypony that passed, there was now a much poofier mass that, even with her reclusiveness, still stood out. Where there was once an uninteresting underside, there was a pot belly that jiggled as she stopped, and sides that were a few inches wider than before. Where there was once a passe backside, there were now full flanks and a rump that, from Photo’s side view of her, has a slight wobble and sway to it. Where there was once a frightened face, there was now two slightly larger cheeks covered in tomato sauce, and eyes terrified of seeing her boss there.

The sight was enough to make Photo Finish start from her place; she was just able to cover her gasp.

“Oh, Miss Finish!” Coco slowly backed away, shrinking and causing a small dimple where her neck met her breast. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

She didn’t respond.

“Uh, are you miss Coco Pommel?” The pitch-changing voice of the pizza delivery stallion broke the tension.

“Oh, yes!” She swung her head down and picked up the bits. The stallion moved to his side to have it deposited, and then gave her the pizza box.

“Ya have a nice day, ma’am!” With a large grin, he skipped down the stairs.

All this time, Photo Finish hadn’t taken her eyes off of Coco. When she turned to look at her, she blinked a few times but didn’t say anything. Photo’s heartbeat had almost doubled during this time.

“Uh,” Coco managed to get out. “W-would you like to come in, Miss Finish? I, uh, have pizza and spaghetti, if you’re hungry.”

When Photo Finish opened her mouth to speak, to accept her request, instead a string of words came out that she had been thinking, but didn’t want to say:

“You’ve gained weight.”

It was put out there, and both mares were silent. Coco looked stunned, while Photo was motionless. The tension between them was growing larger and larger—

—and larger and larger and larger—

She caught herself and stopped her rampant mind. It had almost gone out of control, and her heartbeat had gotten faster as she stood there. It would do no good standing there thinking those thoughts, she concluded, do she pushed herself forward and walked to her desk. Perhaps if she got some work done, she would forget all about Coco Pommel until tomorrow.

Try as she might, though, she couldn’t bring herself to think about Fleur de Lee. She was one of the harder models to deal with, what with having such high demands. Photo just couldn’t get her mind on how she’d prepare and place the model for her shoot tomorrow. Coco, on the other hand, she was easy to envision. She was just chubby and not fat, so the weight could be lost easily if she wanted to model. Then Photo thought to herself that the only reason she thought of Coco modeling was because of the added weight.

Of course it wasn’t orthodox in Equestria—or at least in Canterlot—for big mares to be seen as beautiful. There was only one magazine that catered to those that liked their ponies with a little bit of meat on them. Photo knew this for a fact; she had scoured the land, after all.

With a snort and a sigh, and reached behind the desk where she would normally take notes, and withdrew the latest edition of a magazine: Blubber Lovers. In the humdrum routine of her business life, she hadn’t even bothered to look at the cover. She hadn’t allowed herself that pleasure in a long time.

And as she figured would happen, it didn’t disappoint.

It was a mammoth of a mare, somepony twice as tall and twice as long as the model Big Macintosh, and she was currently supporting her body by resting her forelegs on a counter. Her forelegs looked more like two pillows than body parts, and each of them spread out on the counter. They led up to a chest that stuck out proudly, resting on the counter. This led up to her neck that was thicker than a pony’s flanks, and cheeks that drooped with cherubic roundness. The counter was protected with see-through glass, so her beanbag-like stomach was visible as it pressed up and dimpled with many folds and rolls; the sides of it touched the edges of the cover. Her flanks were larger still, jutting out beyond the edges by at least two feet each (she assumed from how round the visible parts were) and obscuring her stack-of-pancakes cutie mark. Although she couldn’t see her rump, she could see that a few feet back from her, the swinging doors leading from the kitchen were being pushed back, and Photo Finish had seen this particular mare enough times in pictures to know this was caused by her derriere. The only visible piece of clothing was a nametag on her breast that identified her as Fanny Pancake, the largest MMM: a Massive Magnificent Mare.

The camera was right in front of the counter, making the viewer seem like a customer. Fanny had her head tilted slightly backwards while staring at the camera with her hazel eyes, as if motioning towards the kitchen and asking Photo Finish “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, I would like to come in,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

The silence had lasted for so long that when it was broken, Coco flinched and blinked to rid herself of her confusion. “Of course, Miss Finish!” Without another word, Coco turned and, carrying the pizza box on her back, walked inside. Photo watched her backside quiver, not yet fat enough to jiggle, before following her inside.

The first thing that caught her attention was the multitude of smells within. It was mostly pasta and tomato sauce, but there was also cheeses, basil, and the faint bouquet of red wine. If she hadn’t managed her diet strictly, Photo Finish would’ve indulged in some of the pizza (as a boss’s right); as it was, the starchy scent and the steam made her feel jittery and slightly tired.

But there was also things to look at, and for a mare living in a run-down apartment, she had a fine taste for decorating. Littered on shelves covered in dark blue cloths were models and pictures of ships and boats; there was also a clock above a window with a picture of the S.S. Trojan in its background. There was a bookshelf with books on not just boating, but also on exploration, sewing, clothing, and even money-management and self-esteem. There were no couches or cushions, the wooden floor being visible except for the bookshelf, a table, a refrigerator and a trashcan.

These last three were in the kitchen, which was filled with bags and boxes and wrappers that once contained food. There was Marexican plates, Neighponese plates, Chaynese boxes, Bitalian boxes and plates, and much more. Despite the amount of boxes and bags, everything was neatly placed in the trash and on the counter. The table was not as neat, but wasn’t filthily set up; spaghetti, lasagna and now a pizza box were spread out on the table.

“Would you like some pizza?” Coco asked, opening the box to reveal a pineapple pizza with extra cheese.

“Nein, thank you,” Photo said after she was done observing. “You, you have been enjoying your stay in Canterlot, I hope?”

Coco looked up from a mouthful of pizza and nodded. “Mhm!” She swallowed. “I’ve been here reading and practicing my sewing.”

“And enjoying the food?” Photo took great care not to smirk, which must’ve come off as more stern than inquisitive. Instead, she poked Coco’s stomach and felt it sink into the flesh deeper and deeper. It took all of her willpower to not shudder.

Coco looked down at herself; her ears folded back. “Um... y-yeah. I didn’t mean to, honest! I-I just got carried away and—“

“Please, stop,” Photo said with a wave of her hoof. She couldn’t stand ponies running away with their apologies. “It happens to ponies all the time. They come to the great capital and get swept away with indulging themselves. You’ll lose your pudge while you work.

“Which reminds me,” she continued with an adjustment to her goggles. “I’ve come to see if you still plan on working for me.”

Coco blinked, and then nodded. “O-of course! I hope this doesn’t make you think I wouldn’t continue.”

She shook her head. “Most ponies that come to work for me usually quit within the first month of training. I allow ponies a week off after that to think about if they want to continue working for me. You have talent, Miss Pommel,” she continued with a poke into her breast (minutely running the circumference of her hoof around the fat), “but you need to be able to run in the high-paced world of Canterlot fashion, and I am a particularly demanding in terms of production.”

Coco let this all sink in, and then perked up. “I-I’ll work extra hard, Miss Finish, and I’ll prove that I can do this!” She said all of this with a bounce of her body, and Photo was glad she was wearing goggles to see the aftershocks of her excitement.

“That is good to hear.” She looked behind her and caught the whiff of steam, and the subtle scent of sweat from the fatter pony. “That is all I came over for. You are about to eat dinner, and so I shall leave you to it. I expect you at work tomorrow at eight o’clock sharp.”

“Of course, Miss Finish!” Coco said enthusiastically. “Here, I’ll walk you to the door—“

“No need,” she rebuffed, preferring to walk alone. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

“O-o-okay. Have a good night, Miss Finish.” She turned away from her. “Now where did I put my grater?” She walked into the kitchen proper and looked through her shelves. “It’s here somewhere.”

For a moment, Photo Finish lingered there watching her body go from place to place, quivering all the while. For a pony that had been around slender-to-supermodel ponies for a long time, her body was a sight to behold. She just hoped—a lingering hope—this wouldn’t affect Coco’s ability to work. Coco had found the grater on a high shelf, and Photo was about to leave when she saw Coco struggle.

Her belly was pressed up against the counter to where it squished out around her, and her rump hiked up higher and higher as she stood more on the tips of her hind hooves. Her foreleg and neck slightly waved as they strained upward to reach the grater. She eventually fell and breathed heavily.

It was too high.

Photo was about to suggest that she use a stool when Coco pulled out a drawer at the bottom of the counter to stand on. Photo Finish smiled at the display of wit, and smiled even wider at the physical strain of balancing on it. There was more to this mare than just the timidity on the outside...

...Just as there was more to the magazine than just the cover.

She opened up to the first page and glanced at the advertisement for a restaurant before getting in deeper and deeper into the ponies inside. It wasn’t just lewd pictures and tantalizingly abundant food pictures. There were recipes discovered both by ponies inside and by chefs and cooks famous in their area. There were health tips; health was a concern for larger ponies, so they took the time to inform their readers about how to live healthy and fully. There were also a few advertisements for restaurants and eateries coming up in the world looking for publicity.

But a majority of the pictures were of ponies that were large. Fanny Pancake was usually the most featured pony in these magazines, but in this particular issue each pony got equal exposure. Since there were so few ponies that modeled for MMMs and MMSs, there was more than a focus on their paragon bodies; there was also a focus on their lives and their adventures. And Photo Finish had learned of them all.

There was Grand Red Gala, otherwise known as L, a red-coated green-maned mare who was a member of the prolific Apple Family. She was well-fed with a bountiful belly, and a slightly less pudgy rear and neck; her pictures featured her pushing her corpulent parts out while she worked on her ranch, as well as having quaint home-cooked meals and hanging out with her farm animals. Her cutie mark was of a giant red apple with an artificial shine on the surface as if the sun was shining just for ponies to look at her.

Pineapple Prize from Haywaii had an ochre coat, seaweed-green mane and tail, cerise eyes and a rear end always just barely surrounded by a hula skirt. She was a chubby pony with a prodigious callipygian rump and flanks, and she enjoyed her fatness enough to contribute it to the adipophilic world. She was an easygoing mare who was usually seen posing on the beach or on a surfboard, with her rump proudly on display and her tail raised and curled to where the tip of it pointed at it. Her cutie mark was a large pineapple with a few slices, almost real enough to make a pony want a bite.

Black Forest was from Germaneigh, and she had a coal-black coat, a light purple mane, tail and eyes, and a stomach far larger than any part of her body. She didn’t have the largest belly—Fanny Pancake had her beat—but it was definitely the roundest. She loved to travel, partake in mountainous snowsport, sail and eat delicate treats until her stomach ripped the wool sweater she would wear on those occasions. Every picture was of her leaning back over a mug or seven of hot chocolate or stacks of boxes of chocolate; every one also had a sweater either on the cusp of ripping, tearing, or bursting off of her. Her cutie mark was of a black forest cake.

Silver Streak was one of the two MMSs—Massive Magnificent Stallions—in the magazine. He was a former Wonderbolt with a grey coat, a black spiky mane and tail, blue-grey eyes, a cocky attitude and a partying lifestyle. Now retired from hard work, he took to enjoying himself, and every picture exposed his beer belly. He was one of the three main ponies who stuffed themselves for the magazine (Fanny and Black Forest being the other two), and he was the most vigorous while doing it, all the while having fun around other ponies. His cutie mark was of two silver wings together with an arch as if they were zooming around.

Whereas Silver Streak still retained some of his athletic body, Big Wig would never be considered athletic. He was the only pony that was immobilized by his girth, his hooves slightly sinking into his mass, he wore his fat with cool confidence. He had a dark-blue coat, a brown dreadlocked mane and tail, and eyes hidden by sunglasses. He was usually seen lying in either a hammock, a bed or a bathtub, always accompanied by his feeder, an orange-coated pony who was unnamed. His cutie mark was of a curly mane, signifying his talent with manes and wigs.

A majority of the ponies in the magazine were earth ponies, with Black Forest and Big Wig being unicorns and Silver Streak being the sole pegasus; they were also seen alone, not crossing into the other models’ pictures. The last two ponies to be described broke this trend; they were always together. Dark Chocolate and French Vanilla were fillyfoolers and a couple. Dark Chocolate had a coat as brown as chocolate with eyes a slightly lighter brown and hair like dark chocolate. French Vanilla’s coat color was between cream and white, while here mane and tail were both white and her eyes were blue. Their cutie marks were of a bar of chocolate and of a four vanilla beans. Out of all the ponies in the magazine (barring Fanny), they were the most normally proportioned, with fat stomachs, rears, flanks, forelegs, chests, necks and faces. Dark Chocolate had a slightly larger rear, while French Vanilla had a slightly larger belly.

For some reason, Photo Finish was more attracted to these two than any of the others this time. They had engaged in various activities of affection, such as hugging, cuddling, snuggling, laying next to each other in the park. There were a few of them kissing, and even one of them laying in bed together with their masses taking up the entire bed, even when they were pressed against one another. It was all normal for them, but Photo was entranced by them.

One picture in particular spurred her memory of Coco Pommel back up. Dark Chocolate was sitting on her rump with her back towards the camera, but at enough of an angle where her large belly could be seen by the camera. Her face was turned to the camera, and her eyes looked down with a gleeful salacious edge. Her towards-camera hoof rested on her flank, while the away-camera hoof reached down behind her to brush something in between her rump. She was sitting on her rump, but she was also sitting on French Vanilla, who was supporting her with her hindlegs. Vanilla’s belly was displayed proudly towards the camera, while she was bent just forward enough to make her rump stick out back. The most alluring part, however, was her head. While one of her hooves held up Chocolate’s rump to prevent her from losing balance, her other one touched the dark hoof that brushed against her muzzle. Only Vanilla’s smiling muzzle and one eye looking up to align with her partner’s gaze were visible; the rest was swallowed in her crack.

The caption next to them read, “Supporting each other, no matter how heavy.”

“I will give you a hoof.”

Before Coco could say “What?” Photo Finish trotted behind her and placed a hoof on Coco’s rump. The mare in front of her wasn’t looking back yet, so she allowed herself to shiver at the feeling of a fat rear. She couldn’t linger, though, or else she’d get suspicious. With both hooves, she pushed until Coco was standing tiphoof, and she was just barely missing the grater.

She hadn’t counted on how much the fat would shift, or how hard it was to lift a pony up with just her legs. So, acting on an impulse, she moved her head between Coco’s legs until she had her on her shoulders. Stepping onto the drawn drawer, she pushed up even more.

Feeling Coco’s squishy belly on her forehead and her squishy rump on her shoulders sent her heartbeat doubling; it was all she could do to stay focused on balancing and to refrain from kneading. It seemed to last a long time, though in reality it was just a second.

“Got it!’ Coco said from below. “You can put me down now.”

With a blow of air, Photo began getting down. It went awry when her hoof slipped on the drawer, and she fell to standing on four legs again. Coco gave a shriek, and Photo braced for something bad to happen. With an oomph she caught Coco completely on her back, her rump resting on Photo’s backside and her forelegs wrapped around her neck.

In that split second, Photo took stock of her position. Here she was with a chubby mare on top of her, supporting herself. Her legs quivered from the exertion, and it all made her feel excited. This was her first time, though, so she soon collapsed.

“Oh my stars!” Coco gasped as she scrambled off of her boss. “I’m so sorry, Miss Finish! I’m so sorry!”

Photo took a moment to catch her breath, and then pushed herself up. “I-it is fine—“

“How am I ever going to make it up to you?”

“I have to go.” She began to leave, but was caught by a sobbing Coco.

“Please don’t fire me!” she bawled. “It was an accident, I lost balance and I fell on top of you and oh my stars—“

“Coco!” Photo Finish rarely resorted to yelling, so she wanted her to pay attention. “It is fine. I am not hurt.”

“Y-you’re not?”

“Nein. Are you?”

“N-n-n-no, Miss Finish.”

“That is good.” She adjusted her balance, and then pointed to the floor. “You got your grater, now put this behind you and enjoy your dinner.” She used a hoof to wipe away some tears from her cheek, running her hoof along the outer curve of it for her own gain. “Eight o’clock sharp, remember?”

“O-of course,” Coco replied almost silently. She hobbled over to the table and, with shaky hooves, began grating cheese on the three Istallion meals. Photo, meanwhile, walked with shaky legs to the door. “A-are you sure you’re not mad?”

“Ja,” Photo said bluntly, realizing she desperately needed water. “Have a good night, Miss Coco Pommel.” She was about to leave when Coco said something.

“You’re welcome for dinner anytime, Miss Finish, if it will make up for this whole thing.”

“I will consider it.” She usually never did, but this was a rare case. She walked out the door and stole one last look before it closed, seeing her backside straight in front of her, busy grating cheese. She stared at its nervous and anxious shaking and quivering before the door closed.

She flipped to the back cover, which was the same picture as the front cover, but from behind Fanny. That meant getting a view of Fanny’s back and her rump, which not only pushed the swinging doors back, but also invaded the doorframe, apparently wedging itself in. From a higher view, Fanny’s face was visibly smirking at the camera, and just to the right of it, small letters were written to urge the reader to “Come on back for breakfast.” That ended every magazine, and it always made Photo Finish yearn for more.

She put down the magazine and sighed, her heartbeat and mind racing. She kept thinking of the MMMs inside the covers, and then of Coco Pommel. A small mare compared to them, but oh so close, and oh so taken by the Canterlot cuisine. A smile spread across her face, and she took the magazine with her out of the workroom. After eating dinner, taking a shower and laying down in her bed, she set the magazine beside her and threw the covers over her. She didn’t think anything of tomorrow’s shoot, but she did think of tomorrow and days after with that sweet chubby mare. She fell asleep as she sunk into the bed, as the blankets above her grew heavier and heavier and heavier.