Author's Note

1. New coverart from ZeldaFan777, artist and maintainer of the Fat-Bellied Lyra Tumblr. You are awesome, my good pony!
   
2. Graphic depictions of sex begin this chapter. If you've read up to this point and don't want sex, then please stop reading here.
   
3. My second time depicting a sexual situation. Tell me how badly I flubbed up.

Voyeurism

Finally, every model expected that week had an appointment, as well as a projected outfit, prop and background to go with their shoots. Photo Finish looked over every single item one last time to note anything out of place. A few adjustments here and there made their mark, and then all was perfect, according to Finish. She placed the paperwork into a folder and placed it at the top-right corner of her work desk.

After all of that was taken care of, she took a glance at her clock: seven in the evening, on the dot.

“Perfect,” she said. With everything proceeding as scheduled, she cracked her neck and thought about what to do next.

And that wasn’t normal for her. She had usually immediately cooked herself something to eat and went to take a cold shower before heading off to bed. Why am I deliberating? I don’t want to do anything else.

But thinking about it, she knew that wasn’t true. Seven o’clock was still early in Canterlot, and she knew that very few ponies would be asleep. Her thoughts drifted back to Fanny Pancake’s proposal that she come to dinner with them; she doubted that Fanny would close up that early, being in Canterlot on a special occasion, after all. And Coco would be there as well, as the main taste tester, so she wouldn’t be suspected of going for any other reason than research. She’d be completely in control of the situation, as Coco wouldn’t do much on her own.

“No.” She sighed, thinking to the events from earlier that day. She had reached the backside of one of the most beautiful mares in Equestria, and what had she done? “I fretted and fumbled like an amateur!” Her heartbeat was quickening at the thought of being near Fanny again, and for this she mentally chided herself some more.

“I shall not go to dinner,” she decided with a half-nod, half shake of her head. “If I cannot get control over my body, I shall not expose myself to that sort of place. The embarrassment would not be worth the intimacy.” With complete control over herself—just then way she liked it—she shut her study door and proceeded through her house.

Dinner was the simple affair it always was: white rice with steamed carrots and broccoli tonight, with a glass of water to help it down. The dishes were promptly washed, the house was inspected for anything out of place, and then she proceeded, on schedule, to her bathroom.

“I shall take a quick shower, and go to bed. I will not think about this any more.” I will still need to tell Coco to lose weight, once we pick out the food needed for the shoot. So there’s no point in getting excited about it. I can’t have her waddling around, struggling to lift up a foreleg as she sews dress after dress, her massive belly pressing into the table, her bulk making it bow, her rump sticking straight out so it would make other ponies have to go around, her flanks jutting out as she walks around, her face staring at me, her cheeks blushing in frustration at how she can’t control her appetite, how I would have to be there to make her calm down, how her belly would shift and shape as it lay atop me as we—

She stopped halfway up the stairs, emitting a frustrated groaned. “Get a hold of yourself, Photo Finish! You are not a schoolfilly! You are a professional mare, and you will act like one!” With an indignant huff, she strode to her bathroom and turned on the water.
“You will tell Miss Pommel that she should lose weight,” she commanded to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “That she must lose weight, and you will forget that Fanny Pancake is here, and that… this may be your one chance to meet her.”
Her barking softened, leaving her speechless. There would be no way of telling Fanny Pancake, of all ponies, to lose weight; surely she could at least say how much she admires her work.

“No.” She turned away from her reflection. “I cannot tell her. I should just forget about Fanny Pancake and focus on my shoot.”

She moved to turn the shower on, but her head began to ache. After standing there in the silence, she decided a bath was in order. It was rare that she took one, but this was a special circumstance. With slothful speed, she turned on the water, added chamomile soap to the tub, and let it bubble up. The fragrance began calming her.

There was one last thing she would need before she got on with her bath properly. Tucked under the sink was a pair of binoculars, which she took out now and set on a hook above her bath. See, her house was on a hill near Canterlot’s natural mountain wall, this hill being reserved for the more famous ponies of the great city. Her bathroom faced the rest of Canterlot, giving her access to a view of the entire city. When she bathed, she would take her binoculars out and peer out, just in case she spotted some ponies or other creatures late about with interesting attire, jewelry or baubles. This would spark her creativity every once in a while. There was also a newspaper next to her toilet, where she’s mull over recent events and see if something caught her eye, but that is not relevant to what happened that evening.

Her mind put at ease, she stepped into the slowly rising water. It was warm, but no hotter, exactly the temperature she liked it to be (she wouldn’t be able to use her binoculars if they fogged up). Without a sound, she lowered herself into the water. It came up to the top of her thighs, and she lay there on her underside, motionless, thoughtless, until the waters rose to her withers. Then, as it began to subsume her neck, she rolled it again to get the last cracks out.

“Perhaps I should see a doctor,” she thought with not much conviction. Her neck gave a final loud pop!, and she moaned lowly.

The water rose over her nostrils, yet she didn’t stir. Only when she was about to run out of air did she rise up and turn it off. The bubbles fizzled around her, and for a while she closed her eyes and didn’t move. It’s the right thing to do, right?

Why even bother to question it?

What do you mean?

You’re saying it’s bad for her to be so heavy. Why are you doubting it?

There are a lot of ponies who get by and are heavier than average.

But do you really need a heavier pony working for you? Would that not ruin your image, having somepony who is fat waddling around your studio? In other studios?

But she’s a good worker, even with the fat. And she’s shy, so she wouldn’t be around other ponies too much.

So you’d keep her for yourself.

I don’t see why not, a third voice piped in. After all, Coco hasn’t told you to stop, or that she’d embarrassed about her weight.

But—

Besides, you can always fire her if she does badly, or if she becomes too heavy to move.

Photo opened her eyes. That thought made her insides churn, though couldn’t figure out why. On the one hand, it wasn’t good for business, for herself or for Coco that she gain weight, right? On the other hand…

Her eyes drifted to her hanging binoculars. But this might be my only chance to indulge myself. Why in Equestria would I let this chance slip up, if only to preserve my dignity, which I already have? Besides, it’s not like I was the one that had her gain weight in the beginning.

And what about Coco?

She thought about that mare. She doubted that Coco Pommel would appreciate what was happening to her. Besides, she was a good worker. Still hesitant, and as meek as a mouse, but a good worker. Would she really go along with Finish’s desires?

No, she wouldn’t.

Then force her.

“No,” she said aloud. “I cannot. I will not fatten her up any more.”

It’s decided then.

It’s your loss.

With a content sigh, she sank deeper into the waters. This was her one time when she could relax, let her muscles unwind, stop being so critical of everything. She could just let herself breathe in and out, throwing all the stress away, and mentally preparing for the days ahead of her.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but at some point in the night she stopped floating in the waters and proceeded to scrub her coat. After that, her mane and tail. It was all routine, and she got through it with no trouble or thought.

Once that was taken care of, she took up her binoculars and peered out her window. It was an eventful night, and although she didn’t know why, she relished the thought of peering out at the world and seeing what she could find.

Over here, a griffon showing off an assortment of Canterlot jewels on his body to his friends, who squawked in approval—she assumed.

Over there, a mare dancing about in a fiery red dress, shifting her eyes at a stallion who nodded along with the music.

Still further off, a Mustangian mare with a pink shirt, a very simple affair, yet with an infectious smile, as she wrangled some of the surrounding ponies to dance.

Towards the castle, she saw—

She took in a deep breath. Towards the castle, she saw Coco Pommel, clad in a red sweater obviously too small for her, pinching her skin while giving her a muffin-top appearance. She blushed as she walked around other ponies, obviously conscious of her more-than-standard weight.

Finish couldn’t stop staring. The sweater caused her backside to swell with the shifted skin, her rump shaking left and right as she walked, her forelegs straining to touch the floor as they were squeezed by the sleeves. “No more fattening,” she reminded herself. Nopony gave her much attention, but with how self-aware Coco was, everypony could’ve been staring at her. There may’ve been a procession of ponies Finish couldn’t see watching her, pointing hooves at her.

“Oh my stars, look at that mare!”

“She’s probably going out to eat again. You know how big ponies are.”

“Well, let’s give her some encouragement. It’s no use trying to avoid everypony with a rump like that.”

“Hey, fatty! Go on and get your dinner!”

“Save some room for second dinner, too!”

“Or third, since you probably already ate at another restaurant.”

“And ate your refrigerator before that!”

“Look at how that sweater is so confining!”

“Why are you trying to appear skinny?” A mare approached her.

“Oh, I-I don’t want any trouble—“

“I know. You probably want dinner.” With a speed that only a pegasus could manage, the sweater was ripped off of Coco, causing her front side to bulge outwards. “See? You can’t hide what’s inside.”

“Or outside!” A stallion approached and slapped her bottom. “Look at these cheeks!”

“And those thighs!” A mare approached and prodded her flanks. “They’re huge!”

“Get a load of that belly,” a third pony said, and on cue three other ponies walked over and poked and prodded her.

“Please stop.”

“Going somewhere?”

“Of course she is. There’s no food here!”

“Then we’d better take her to get something to eat!”

And then Fanny Pancake walked up to her, her mass knocking ponies out of the way, with a platter ponies could waltz on. “Don’t worry, Coco, honey. I brought it all to you.”

Finish smacked herself in the head. “Stop. I will not fatten her up anymore! And neither will Fanny. It is just a pleasant dinner she is going to, with just her, Fanny and their chef. Once she has the correct noodles, she will be done with it.”

And even though she was in the privacy of her bathroom, she ignored the burning in her loins. With a sigh, she picked up her binoculars and peered out again.

Down one of the streets, there were two ponies nuzzling each other under the shade of a tree. “Cloaked clothing,” she mused. “For those ponies that wish to look elegant in secret.”

Down another street, a black cat scratched at a lightless window. “Pining clothing, for when ponies wish not to be disturbed.” She nodded, her creative juices flowing.

Down a third street—

Her binoculars fell with her gasp. It was all she could do to keep her concentration as she fumbled to get them out of the tub, drain them and wipe the lenses with a towel. She whipped about and looked out again, her binoculars unhindered. It took her a moment to find who she’d seen.

There was no mistaking it. Her cat-black fur, her purple mane, her aqua sweater, and her bobbing belly that could’ve slapped against the ground. Her marehood began to tingle as she continued watching the mare walk, with the grace of a noblepony and with a graceful walk. She couldn’t even imagine why she’d be here at this time, but once she saw Black Forest Cake, she nearly forgot about Coco.

“Oh my stars,” she mumbled. “Is everypony from Blubber Lovers coming to Canterlot?” She continued watched as Black Forest walked past tourists who gawked at her gut, striding with an almost soldier-like rigidity-yet-elegance before setting her sights on something. Finish looked ahead.

It was Coco.
The round mare began talking to Coco, who shyly stammered something in response. Finish remained motionless, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. Black Forest beckoned her to follow, and so Coco did. Finish could only guess as to what Coco was staring at right now; Black Forest didn’t have a wide rump, not according to pictures, but seeing that belly bobbing around like a pendulum must’ve been magical.
It had to have been that! Coco wouldn’t stop looking forward. She suppressed the nagging thought that perhaps Coco just wanted to see where she was going, and avoid running into anything—least of all that glorious gut—and continued watching Coco be led onwards, entranced by her belly.

At length, she shifted her gaze to Black Forest. The mare walked with cool confidence, with a small classy smile and controlled steps, almost like a captain. Her belly exhibited as much control, merely bobbing up and down like a basketball, which was enough to make Finish writhe a bit. Her head stayed locked forward, even when she spoke. Her mouth moved just a little, not exuberantly, but at a steady pace.

She wondered what it would be like to get up close and actually talk to her. In a moment, she thought about leaping out of the bath and attending the dinner herself, for who knew what other pony that appeared in the magazine would be there? And in the next moment, she decided against it. Firstly, her marehood was out of control, and she didn’t want anypony to see her out with that sort of savage desire. Secondly, she didn’t want to raise Coco’s suspicions, as she could be one of those gossipy types that told everypony about her day and about everypony else; or else she would be too timid to hide her secret from prying ears, whomever that would be.

With a defeated sigh, she slouched back down into the tub. The warm waters did little to soothe the ache in her marehood; in fact, if anything, it magnified it. She tried to wait it out, let it simmer before it died, but to no avail; it persisted, and wanted her to look back out.

There’s no point, she told that internal burning. I’m not going.

Photo Finish, an eerily soothing voice that belonged to her said. You’ve been reading about these ponies since you landed your first big job here. You know you’ve always liked bigger mares, that’s just a part of you. Are you really going to let this opportunity pass, even in your own bathroom?

Exhaling sharply from her nostrils, she rose again, took her binoculars, and looked out again. It hadn’t been that long since she had submerged herself in the waters, so she was hoping the mares hadn’t gone too far.

They hadn’t. They had stopped at a food stand, and while Black Forest Cake grabbed a tall mug of what looking like hot cocoa (Photo snorted, and writhed her hindquarters), Coco had a caramel apple with her. At first, she looked bashful, but Black Forest was there to reassure her about whatever it was. She couldn’t understand the words, but she understood the gentle tap of Coco’s belly, followed by a slap upon her own massive gut. The two mares laughed.

Finish’s heart was hammering, and a hoof reflexively reached down to stroke herself. She stopped short. No no no!

Go on.

She ignored the voice as the two mares walked on, Black Forest taking deep gulps of her cocoa, Coco biting away at her apple. Her cheeks bunched up, forcing her eyelids up in a very cute manner. Finish couldn’t help but hum in curiosity. “She should smile more,” she said out loud. “She looks nice.”

They stopped at a corner, waiting for a carriage to pass. As they waited, Black Forest turned to Coco and made a comment. Coco looked down at her sweater, and blushed. Black Forest laughed and pulled on the back of her sweater, loosening up the muffin top. After it squeezed her middle again, Coco tentatively reached down and felt Black Forest’s sweater. The other mare stood proudly, letting her belly loosen from the constraints. Coco’s hoof brushed—or was almost consumed by—Forest’s belly. They gazed into each other’s eyes, and Coco jerked away, face red as Forest looked at her with a… was that a knowing smile? Or was that just embarrassment?

It didn’t matter to Finish; she had begun masturbating. Belly-play had been one of her favorite parts of Blubber Lovers, especially with Dark Chocolate and French Vanilla, and seeing the two of them nearly engage in it—they were, damnit!—was too much for her to resist. She wanted them to continue, begged for them to continue. Yet they didn’t. Black Forest merely chuckled and continued guiding them.

Finally, they stopped at a door, and Black Forest knocked. Finish recognized it as a bed-and-breakfast establishment, meant for ponies who were coming in for a day or two to take in Equestria’s crown jewel. They all waited, and Finish watched the windows. She could see a shadow walk towards the door. A large shadow. A massive shadow.

The door opened, and Fanny Pancake beamed down on them with her cheery smile.

Finish couldn’t resist anymore. Two of Finish’s favorite models, and her significantly plumper employee, all hanging out together? Black Forest with a mug, and steam puffing out of the inn from no doubt a massive feast? This was too much to behold!

She dove into her marehood, began rubbing it in jerks and plunges. It was more haphazard than usual, and even as the mares stepped inside and the door closed, not without a view of Fanny’s fanny, Finish was already moaning lewdly. She wriggled and writhed in the tub, nearly dropping her binoculars again. She imagined what they must’ve been doing in there. Plunging their muzzles into a feast like pigs? Letting the staff and servants feed them like goddesses? Tearing off their sweaters and comparing bellies, before rubbing those soft globes against one another, moaning before shifting around to get a view of the rest of their bodies and do Celestia-knows-what? Was the chef just as big, and would he or she join in? Or tie them down and force them to eat, eat, eat!?
She stopped, panting, and looked back out. She couldn’t want to miss anything.

From the window, she saw Black Forest beckon for Coco to sit; she did so on a fancy couch that looked like it had recently had a lot of weight on it. Black Forest took a seat next to her, and her side of the couch bent. And then Fanny plopped down, her flanks touching the edge of the couch and at the same time pooling over Coco’s thigh. The couch groaned and touched the floor, but it didn’t break or snap.

Fanny spoke some words to Coco, who replied bashfully. Then she motioned for somepony to approach. Photo looked to see a mare come in, not one she recognized. This was a skinny mare—skinny compared to the other three, that is; on second, she was a stocky mare. Green coat, darker green mane and tail, and flakes of basil for a cutie mark. She wore a chef’s outfit.

“That must be their private cook,” Photo panted. How she longed to be there, to be next to that basil-flanked mare, hearing the extravagant amounts of food they were ordering, to see the couch give way under their weight, to lie atop them, on their soft bodies and bellies, to give it that final push!

Fanny said some things and pointed to Coco. The chef smiled kindly. Finish tensed. The chef slowly approached, and spoke a simple thing to her. Her muzzle moved slowly and every word seemed level and controlled; Finish guessed the mare was from a relatively busy city, not quite bustling, with a cool temper.

Coco began talking, and Finish noticed her mannerisms were a bit less fidgety than when she was at work. That disturbed her. “I guess I shouldn’t be too angry,” she thought. “She’s still new at work; she’ll stop being so nervous all the time.” Coco still stammered and avoided eye contact.

Fanny wrapped a foreleg and drew Coco in. A few words were said, and Fanny bellowed, her titanic tummy shaking and wobbling, her chest jiggling with the laughter. Coco’s own body couldn’t resist the momentum, and jiggled along with it. Everypony laughed.

Finish groaned lowly with pleasure. Black Forest had patted Coco’s belly in reassurance. Coco said nothing.

“Come on! Pat her belly, for crying out loud! Make it jiggle and bounce! Ride it!” She shrieked that last part, and for fear of waking on her neighbors and alerting them to what she was doing, she silenced herself.

Back at the bed-and-breakfast, Coco looked back at the chef and began making gestures. The chef watched and listened without interjecting. Once Coco was finished, the chef began asking questions, and Finish was able to catch snippets of it.

“Are you looking for something long?”

“Thin or thick?”

“What sauces are you thinking of?”

“Other food?”

Finish realized that she was asking about the pasta for the shoot. Coco answered hesitantly. “I should be there to help her,” Finish muttered with a hint of
frustration. “But she knows food, so I will let her handle it.”

She knows food?

Well, I assume she does.

The chef said some things, at first explanatorily, and then excitedly. With a bow, she excused herself. Coco looked back up at Fanny, who was saying something with enthusiasm. Whatever it was, she punctuated it with a great big slap of her belly.

Finish continued prodding.

The next few minutes consisted of the three mares talking to one another—or rather the two mares talking to one another, and Coco listening. At points one of the larger mares would ask Coco something, and Coco would stammer out an answer. After everything she said, Fanny would laugh and pat Coco on the back. Finish couldn’t tell if Coco was uncomfortable with that or not; her smile was awkward.

Then Fanny pointed to Coco and asked her something with a serious face. Finish could only make out two words:

“Your boss”

She watched Coco, waiting to scrutinize every minute detail.

Coco got up from her seat and began pacing. Finish didn’t even ogle her rump, she was too busy watching Coco talk. She stopped every now and then, as if to censor herself—she —before continuing onwards. Not a smile came to her face for the first few minutes.

“What are you saying about me?” Finish had stopped rubbing herself.

The other mares watched her talk. Black Forest nodded with the patience one would expect from a quiet mare. Fanny, however, was more animated. She would nod, ask questions, her body would shift to some stimulus from Coco’s tale.

And then Coco launched into some other discussion with a smile. Her movements were sweeping, her pacing quickened, her smile grew. What made Finish feel better was that Coco’s lips read her name several times. The other two mares looked astonished.

After Coco finished, and turned back at them, and took a seat next to them, Fanny patted her on the back, while she and Black Forest exchanged glances. Finish couldn’t tell what that meant, but she wondered if she had anything to do with it.

Immediately afterwards, the food was ready. The chef pony came out with a serving trolley, four large plates, and a steaming pot.

“Now the fun begins,” Finish whispered, beginning to rub herself again.

The mare took out a ladle dipped it in, and pulled out a ladle-full of noodles. They looked like spaghetti, but were much thinner. “Capellini,” Finish lip-read. “Angel hair.” She set three ladle-fulls down on each plate—earning a look of shock from Coco, and bemusement from Fanny—and gave each of the mares a fork. Coco looked at hers like it was a spear, and she had to trek into this vast jungle of food to get to the other side; Black Forest looked at it like a food critic would a delicious meal; Fanny looked at it like it was a piddling offering. The chef looked at Coco with concern, but Coco waved her off, perhaps saying she would be able to finish the meal.

Before anypony dug in, basil-flanks poured alfredo sauce on the noodles, and sprinkled in some peas and chopped carrots. For a moment, Finish lingered at the display on the plate. Such a light, graceful meal would work perfect for Fleur’s shoot! With some white wine and bread and butter, it would look both cozy, like Italian cuisine, and high-scale, like Fleur was. The steam wafting up, the white covering and the few subtle colors made it a perfect dish. A glass of white wine, Shamrock '95, completed the meal for each of them.

And then the mares dug in.

It was far different than what Finish was expecting. and the masturbation intensified for it. Black Forest rolled her noodles up like a professional, slowly and steadily, before taking a moderately-sized bite. Coco watched her at first, and then dug in with much less control. She wasn’t messy, but she wasn’t as elegant at eating as Black Forest was. Comparing the two, it was like watching an excited puppy eating next to the collected alpha female. She wasn’t entirely neat, but she grabbed a napkin whenever she needed it.

Fanny, on the other hand, was like a whale, taking monstrous bites. Her fork was heaving with pasta, and each bite demolished it like it was nothing. She stopped to talk some, to give the other two a chance to catch up, Finish presumed, but then went right back to eating. Bite after bite went down, her cheeks bulging tremendously, each bite savoring the massive amount of food shoved in, before swallowing with a large gulp. In a few forkfuls, she was done.

And then she asked for more. Finish yearned so badly to be there. The water was now lukewarm, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving until they were all done.

The other two looked at her as basil-flanks piled the pasta on, a grin on her face all the while. Coco looked with surprise, Black Forest without a reaction. Fanny looked down and chuckled, sayig something like “Better catch up!” before digging back into her full plate.

Finish mewled as the rubbing increased. She watched the spectacle of Fanny destroying a second plate as Black Forest ate with a controlled air. As slow as she was going, though, it wasn’t as slow as Coco’s eating, who would linger on each mouthful, smiling, before swallowing. Occasionally, the two mares would say something, but then they would go right back to eating.

After Fanny was done with her second plate, she set it down on the trolley. Basil said something, and Fanny gave her a hearty answer with a slap of her belly, which left Basil beaming. Probably asked how her food was, Finish thought to herself. Who wouldn’t beam at the honor of having Fanny Pancake, of all ponies, say your food is delicious? Of eating your food? Of eating you? Of putting you on a plate, her eyes gleaming at how delectable you are, and then she dives in, her cheeks cradling your rump, covering them, as her muzzle plunges into—

She began bucking as Fanny rubbed her belly. Coco stared at the jiggling belly, almost mesmerized. Black Forest grinned as she finished her food. Coco took a breath and continued eating. Her belly had rounded out, most likely still stuffed from before, and considering these were large plates, the fact that she had eaten so much was astounding.

But then Coco slowed down, and nearly stopped. She breathed laboriously, the pasta almost done. Basil looked over it like she waited for Coco to finish it. Black Forest watched her without any emotion, except for what Finish’s trained eye saw as a curious stare. Fanny looked down at her, and asked—Finish read her lips—whether she was done or not. Fanny looked down at her with kind eyes, almost encouraging.

Coco looked down at it, and for a moment her eyes bugged. Basil was about to come and take it from her, but Coco took the fork up, rolled a very large ball of pasta up, and slowly shoved it into her maw.

Finish nearly came. Her climax was fast approaching.

Basil encouraged her, while the other two said nothing. Coco swallowed, and took another large bite. In just four bites, the pasta was demolished this was, and Basil took the plate and fork before it had a chance to drop to the floor. Coco cradled her belly with her hooves; it jutted out, taut and unmoving. Black Forest clapped, Basil cheered, and Fanny offered a hoof to comfort it.

Finish lurched, but stopped. As torturous as it was, she would wait for dessert so she could finish, waiting for these mares to stuff themselves even more. Basil offered it (of course) and Black Forest and Fanny agreed to it, while Coco abstained. For an instant, she felt disappointment in her employee. That cooled down when she remembered that Coco had just started.

“Besides,” she stammered, stopping her soft ministrations for a moment. “She is not going to want to get fatter, is she?”

Pies were brought out. Fanny took a whole one for herself, grinning like an eager schoolfilly getting into forbidden sweets; Black Forest took two pieces daintily, and Coco watched with a smile on her face. Fanny began spraying whipped cream on each slice of pie—apple, it turned out to be—and dropped them one-by-one into her waiting maw. Finish’s masturbating began anew, imagining each slice adding at least five pounds on the already gargantuan mare’s frame. Black Forest ate like a royal, slowly and gracefully, without a crumb in place.

Coco watched silently, looking around the room and drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Fanny seemed to notice this, and offered up something to say. Coco replied, and they both laughed. Coco looked away, and Fanny stared at her. Finish couldn’t tell what the looks were, she assumed Fanny was looking at her as a guest. Although… there was something in her eyes, her movements that betrayed something else.

Slice after slice went down, until Fanny was down to just one. She patted her belly again, and it merely quivered now. Finish wanted that last slice to settle in her stomach, to stop the buildup and wait in anticipation for the results. But Fanny didn’t eat it. Basil waited patiently, a confused look on her face.

“Go on Fanny,” Finish moaned. “Stuff it into yourself.”

And then Fanny turned to Coco, and offered it to her.

Finish squealed, her hindlegs spasming at the offering. Coco at first refused, but Fanny insisted. Coco stared at it, her belly still, her hoof rubbing it.

After a moment, she nodded.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees.” Finish bucked and plunged her hoof in and out. “Do it. Don’t stop.”

Finish’s breath grew shorter the closer the slice got to Coco’s muzzle. Black Forest approached her and held out a hoof, as if to help her open it, but Coco opened it herself. The slice slid in slowly, very slowly. Coco’s eyes winced, but yet she slowly reached out

“Don’t ever stop.”

She had trouble. The rest of the ponies watched, transfixed.

Finish was at her peak. “Come on,” she muttered. “Eat it. Eat it!”

Coco opened her mouth wide.

“Eat it and become fatter!”

What are you doing? What about not making her—

“To Tartarus with that! Fatten her up, fatten her up!”

Excellent.

Coco stopped.

“What are you doing?” she shouted. She was teetering on the edge.

Basil-flanks walked to the window and closed the curtains.

Finish stared at the window, motionless, her brain trying to process what was going on. Then, something harsh and savage emerged from her throat.

“No!” She threw herself at the window. “No no no! Why would you do that?” She pounded at the sill. “Why hide her from me? Why now, of all times? Damnit!”

This went on for a whole minute, and then she sunk down, her face sliding against the wall until she slowly fell into the tub. She just lay there, the water submerging all except her muzzle. Why should she watch any more? Coco had finished her food, ensured that she would be heavier the next day.

But something nagged at her. It wasn’t the promise of more food; Coco would clearly have had enough. She rose up and grabbed her binoculars, shaking off the suds from the lenses. She peered back out at the house.

The curtains were still drawn. And even if she were to leave her tub, she couldn’t get an angle that would allow her to see what was going on. She was defeated.

Silently, slothfully, she rose from the tub, unplugged it and walked onto her bathroom mat. She dried herself sluggishly until she was completely dry, her marehood still yearning as she rubbed down her backside, and then threw the towel onto the floor. She walked to her room and crawled into bed, lying on her covers and waiting for sleep to come for her.

But sleep wouldn’t. The ticking clock in her room wasn’t what was keeping her up. So what was it? She turned to her side, and then became aware of something around her neck. It was her binoculars.

“One more look couldn’t hurt,” she said. With a dead roll over, she trudged to the window and peered out. Not all was hidden there.

They were all at the front door. The three larger mares stared at Coco, who was groaning and rubbing her belly. Fanny said something, holding a quilt that hung on the back of the couch. “Is she going to ask her to spend the night?” Finish hoped so; Fanny was more well-known for her bountiful breakfasts, and after a filling dinner, Coco would need an even-more-filling breakfast to stretch that stomach out and get even more weight on her.

But Coco waved her off, and hopped on her hooves. She almost fell back, but Basil was there to push her up from the flank. Coco nearly buckled under her own weight, but stood. She swayed a bit, and widened her stance to accommodate her larger belly. Finish began feeling excited again.

“No.” Finish shook her head. “No more. I’ve had enough for tonight.”

Fanny nodded, and Black Forest walked next to her. With a few more words, in which nothing more physically happened, and Finish couldn’t make out any more of what they were saying, they went to the front door. Basil lingered for a bit and hugged everypony, even squishing Coco’s cheeks with her hooves, before disappearing inside quickly and joyfully.

Fanny wished Coco a good night, and Coco bowed to do the same. They both reached for the other and nuzzled each other. Finish remained motionless.

Then Fanny disappeared, her flank slapping against the door frame as she swung around, and the door closed. Black Forest and Coco walked to the apartments. Once they stopped in front of it, Black Forest looked up with some surprise, and Coco laughed and waved her off. They both hugged, and Coco entered the complex, with Black Forest lingering. Finish would’ve admired the backview of both Black Forest’s belly and rump, but was more curious with that was going on. After a moment, she turned and began walking away, a look of puzzlement on her face.

Finish wouldn’t deliberate anymore; she was too dejected. She waited until Black Forest returned to the bed-and-breakfast, and then put her binoculars away. “Coco’s probably going to hang out with them more,” she said. “I must make sure she keeps up with her work… but should I interfere with her if this means she gains more weight?”

Why should you? If she wants it, and you want it, then you both win. Who would get hurt?

“Coco, maybe, if she doesn’t watch herself. And the business, if she can’t keep up. And my reputation, if ponies find out that I like fat ponies.”

Photo Finish, this is new territory to you. You cannot face it fearfully.

“I’m not!”

She enjoyed all of the food? Enjoyed stuffing herself?

“Yes.”

Then wait it out and see what happens.

Finish lingered in the bath for a while, percolating those choices. They were left unresolved when she rolled back into bed.

“I have no idea what I am doing anymore,” she said. “But if things get too far out of hand, I will stop her.” She drifted off to sleep, her thoughts going to how she could see Coco the next day, and every day after that, becoming heavier and heavier and heavier…