Gilda looked at the warm, fragrant batch of cookies sitting on her counter, and licked her beak in anticipation. Putting the first chocolatey, warm confection in her mouth, Gilda moaned in pleasure, the rumbling in her stomach increasing tenfold at the teasing snack. The first one eaten, Gilda reached forward with fat, grasping paws, and began to stuffing the cookies into her mouth.
In the months since the change to her scone recipe, Gilda had become supremely successful. Since she sold baked goods, Gilda had often brought the unsold pastries from the day home, instead of letting them go to waste. In that same thread of thinking, Gilda had taken it unto herself to eat the pastries, so she wouldn’t lose profits.
Not today, though. Today, Gilda had decided to try out a new recipe that Pinkie Pie had sent her, and Gilda was loving every morsel that passed over her tongue.
One thing that Gilda had became aware of, was how the unsold good effected her body. At first, nothing had changed. Then, Gilda had bought a store so she could run a full bakery, and not just sell her famous scones out of a cart.
With the sudden increase in goods demanded, the more Gilda had baked. So much so that Gilda had had to take ever-bigger loads of pastries home. As she’d eaten more and more of her own product, Gilda had noticed more changes.
Gilda’s weight had crept up slowly enough at first, but had quickly gotten out of control. What had been 15 pounds, turned to 30, then 60, then 90, and so on until Gilda had gained just over 600 pounds. At first, this had alarmed Gilda, but she’d soon realized that she could afford to be near immobility. She could hire workers, and just stay at home to reap the rewards...and bake as much as she wanted for herself. She sent new recipes for her staff, and did other desk work, but did little else besides. In all, Gilsa was rich, well-liked, and massively obese.
Gilda’s lion paws were sausage-like, the fat collecting there making it hard to bend the joint, the forepaws sagged with fat, partially covered by the sleeve of fat that hung down from Gilda’s upper leg. Her upper legs were ham-sized monstrosities that shook and jiggled with any tiny movement. Gilda’s neck had almost completely disappeared behind the vast rolls that hung over her sagging chest, those rolls being the only hint that she’d once had a neck in the first place. Gilda’s chest rolled in front of the massive griffon, so large that it bounced off the ground every time Gilda took a step. Feathers and fur stuck out every which way, since Gilda could no longer preen them herself.
From her chest, Gilda only got bigger. The griffon’s stomach touched the ground, and dragged upon it, spreading out from the griffon’s side for almost a foot on either side. Gilda’s hips jutted out from the stomach, spreading out further than Gilda’s stomach, preluding to the massive pair of buttocks they were attached to. Gilda’s flanks melted into saddlebags, hanging over the joint where her flanks met her back legs. The massive buttocks rolled with every laboured step the griffon managed to take, reaching down ever closer to touching the ground themselves.
Gilda could already imagine her magnificent, adipose-filled plot pinning her to the ground. She watched eagerly at her stomach, and her plot, wondering which one would eventually pin her to the ground. So far, it seemed that her massive plot would be the thing to trap her in one spot forever, though her stomach was a close second.
Stuffing the last cookie into her mouth, Gilda chewed thoughtfully, four chins and her jiggling jowls squishing together as she did so. Her cheeks puffed out, making Gilda’s face nearly spherical, and forcing the griffon to squint past her own fat.
“That was...good,” Gilda wheezed, staring down at the empty plate. Licking her beak again, Gilda caught a few crumbs dusting the outside of her mouth. Waddling slowly to the fridge, Gilda pulled out a four liter jug of whole milk, and began to chug the cool, creamy liquid. When Gilda had downed the last drops, she let out a loud belch, making the pressure in her stomach decrease slightly.
Gilda patted her stomach, what she could reach of it, and set the empty jug on the counter. Her stomach gurgled, trying to digest the massive amount of cookies and milk she’d put there. Despite the massive amount of cookies that Gilda had just eaten, she wasn’t quite satisfied. Looking in her fridge revealed little that Gilda wouldn’t have to make herself, which Gilda didn’t want to do. She simply wanted to have something brought to her. However, Griffinstone hadn’t yet had the infrastructure in place to have more than a few restaurants; none of which delivered yet.
Just as Gilda was pondering her dilemma, a knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, “Coming!” Gilda shouted, turning slowly, and lumbering her way to the door. Even though it was only a few feet, Gilda’s muscles burned with the exertion of having to carry her incredible bulk.
Opening her door, Gilda was angered to realize nothing stood there. Peeking out of her home, built solidly on the ground rather than perched on a high branch, Gilda realized something was poking out the mailbox hanging beside her door. Snatching the pages with some difficulty, Gilda slammed her door shut, grumbling the entire time.
It wasn’t until Gilda looked down at the paper, that she realized her thoughts had been answered. In her chubby paw was a flyer for an Neightalion restaurant, just opening. Attached to the add, Gilda noticed a note stapled to it. Squinting hard to read the flowing script, Gilda’s jaw fell open in surprise.
Miss Gilda,
We here at the Festivita restaurant would like to welcome you to an all-you-can-eat experience here tonight, for free. In return, we would like to you give an honest review of our food to the griffons of Griffonstone, so they know even the best baker the griffons know likes our restaurant.
Please be here by 5 this evening, and bring your appetite.
Aili of Griffonstone
Gilda stared at the page, then looked at the clock in her kitchen. It was just past noon. Gilda looked down at her digesting stomach, and smiled, “I guess we can hold...off until then, huh? Especially if it’s for free. I hope this griffon...knows if her food is bad, I’ll let everyone know...how horrible it is.”
Gilda’s stomach growled, seemingly in agreement. Gilda smiled, and waddled to the living room where she could relax on her reinforced couch until 5 PM.
(LINE BREAK)
Gilda was drenched in sweat by the time she’d waddled down to the restaurant, which was only half a block away from her own house. The sweat, while mostly uncomfortable, was a bit of a godsend, since it made Gilda’s stomach a little easier to drag across the ground, and made it a tad bit easier to squeeze through the door into Festivita’s.
The smell of italian herbs, melted cheese, and fresh bread hit Gilda’s nose like a freight train. Her stomach, unused to going more than an hour or so without food, rumbled angrily.
Gilda strode into the restaurant, taking in the booths, tables, and tacky decor, wondering if someone was supposed to seat her or not.
A middle-aged griffon, her feathers beginning to lose the sheen of youth, walked to Gilda, a smile on her beak, “You’re Gilda, yes? I’m Aili, the owner and chef of this restaurant. Gavin here will seat you, and take your first round of dishes. I hope you enjoy yourself!”
Aili walked away, Gilda finally noticing that the griffon was rather fat behind her constricting chef’s uniform, leaving a strapping young griffon in her place.
“The best table is near the window,” Gavin pointed to a nearby table, on a level slightly higher than the rest of the restaurant. Gilda was pleased to note that it was the only table on the level, and could easily hold her girth.
Gilda, her legs shaking with exhaustion, made it to a strong, wooden bench provided for her, and sat down. The bench creaked, but gave no further sign that her weight was too much for it. Even though her massive plot hung down the back of the bench, it seated her girth perfectly. No overhang on either side of her. The only overhang she noticed was from her drooping paunch and buttocks. In all, a welcome change from the tight chairs that populated most places in Griffonstone.
“Here is the menu. Would you like anything to drink? We serve very thick, very creamy milkshakes, as well as the usual coffee, tea, water-”
“Milkshake. Biggest you’ve got...chocolate.”
Gavin nodded, “I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu. I’ll be back with your shake and your complimentary garlic bread.”
Gavin left, leaving Gilda to look over the tri-folded menu. Lots of things caught Gilda’s eye, from pastas, to pizzas, to subs, to mock-meat dishes, and to desserts. It all looked so good, and the smells coming from the kitchen were intoxicating.
Gilda had just figured out what she wanted as a first course when Gavin returned, burdened with a large milkshake glass, a glass of water, and a basket of steaming rolls and a small bowl full of butter.
“Here you go, miss. Do you know what you’d like?”
“I’d like a large...cheese pizza...and baked spaghetti….and baked lasagne.”
Gavin scribbled down what Gilda wanted, his calm demeanor not giving a hint about what he felt about Gilda’s order, “I’ll bring them out when they’re done. Enjoy the shake!”
Gilda was left alone in the empty restaurant, enjoying the silence. She took a small sip of the milkshake, and wriggled in pleasure. It was thick, cold, and creamy. It was everything a shake could be, and more, and it filled her mouth with chocolatey delight.
Gilda’s stomach growled again, demanding to be fed something more than a sip of milkshake. Gilda took a bread roll in her paw, applying a liberal amount of butter to it, and practically inhaled it in her haste. Gilda hadn’t noticed that the butter provided had been garlic butter, and the taste of garlic, herbs, and the bread melted together in a taste that made Gilda shudder in delight.
Gilda made short order of the basket, even going so far as to wipe her last bread roll in the dish where the butter had been to get every morsel of it.
Soon after, Gavin reappeared, a pizza balanced on his back. It was large, easily able to cover half the table on it’s own. With a practised move, Gavin placed it on a metal rack, so the hot pizza stone beneath it wouldn’t burn the table or Gilda.
“Would you like parmesan?” Gavin asked, holding up a cheese grater of parmesan over the pizza.
Gilda managed to swallow the drool collecting in her mouth, and nodded, staring at the cheesy, glorious thing in front of her.
Gavin grated parmesan cheese all over the pizza, and stepped back, “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Some more bread...rolls please,” Gilda managed, “With butter.”
Gavin nodded once, then left. This left Gilda with the glorious, cheesy creation in front of her. Using a knife, Gilda extracted the first piece from the rest, setting it down on a plate for a moment, before picking it up and taking the first bite.
Gilda’s eyes almost rolled into the back of her head. The crust was crisp on the bottom, but soft where the toppings met the crust. The cheese was thick, and flavourful, while not being so thick the whole mess became greasy. The sauce was filled with italian spices and garlic, and Gilda wondered if garlic hadn’t been baked into the very crust itself.
Once the first piece went down, the others soon followed, hurriedly crammed into GIlda’s awaiting gullet. Each piece was better than the last, and even though Gilda had eaten quite a bit, she was still hungry. Drinking a few mouthfuls of shake, Gilda watched as her stomach bloated outward a little, from the volume of food, and waited.
Gavin returned, with another basket of bread rolls, and her spaghetti. He took the empty pizza tray, and at Gilda’s insistence ,the cheese grater. She piled her spaghetti high with fresh parmesan, and dug in, slurping up the noodles, cheese, and sauce like a griffon starving.
Gilda demolished the bread and spaghetti in short order, and the lasagne was soon brought out with another basket. That soon disappeared too, and despite her stomach feeling rock hard to the touch, Gilda was still hungry.
Gilda ordered more, and more, and more from the menu, choosing different specialties full of cream, cheese, and heavy breads. Cheesy, greasy cappelletti, heavy alfredo, and much more entered Gilda’s stomach. Still, she hungered. She downed another two shakes, three glasses of water, and after having three desserts, Gilda finally felt full.
GIlda belched, patting her stomach gently. Maybe too much. Shouldn’t have had that last basket of rolls.
“Will that be it for this evening?” Gavin asked, having not lost his composure at all throughout the massive meal.
“No, thank you,” Gilda heaved herself to her feet, having difficulty from how rock hard and swollen her stomach had become, “Tell Aili that she’ll be getting the best reviews from me. I’ll be back often, even if I have to pay.”
Gavin smiled, opening the door for a slow, waddling Gilda, “We’ll welcome your business. Have a good night, and I hope you come again soon!”
Gilda waddled back to her house, drenched in sweat and panting like a dog before she got there. She crawled into her nest, and fell asleep, snoring loudly.
(LINE BREAK)
Gilda awoke to a growling stomach at around noon the next day, having overslept fantastically due to a wonderful food coma. Getting to her feet proved more of a challenge than anticipated, though it seemed her stomach wasn’t done digesting the massive meal from the night before.
Gilda waddled to her kitchen, and rummaged around for something to eat. She found a package of old snack cakes, and decided they would be enough until she was awake enough to cook herself something proper.
Eating the first of the soft, spongy cakes, Gilda noticed the flyer resting on her coffee table. She picked it up, and looked at it more closely. Opening the flyer, she found a take-out menu. Apparently they delivered to all of the Griffonstone area, and if you were within half an hour of the restaurant, there would be no additional charges for the delivery.
Looking closer, Gilda found a ‘party special’ for three extra-large pizzas, two bottles of soda, and three boxes of bread sticks. All for twenty bits plus tax. Gilda was amazed at the cheap prices, and if the pizza was as good as it had been the night before...Gilda knew it would be worth every penny.
Using her phone, a relatively new device brought to Griffonstone as different nations tried to help the ruined country, Gilda dialed the number that was on the flyer, gave her order, and sat back down, waiting. She began to salivate already, just remembering the pizza she’d had the night before.
In less than ten minutes, a crisp knock on Gilda’s door bade her to open it and receive her meal. She took the stack of food from a griffon she didn’t recognize, paid, and waddled back to the couch. She fell onto it, and opened the first box of breadsticks, beginning to stuff the light, garlic-y bread into her mouth.
They were hot, slightly greasy, and covered in herbs and parmesan. The first box was gone before Gilda even realized it, prompting her to open the next box, then the next one after that. Despite the large amount of bread she’d eaten, Gilda’s stomach still growled and growled hungrily.
Her mouth was assaulted with garlic and herbs. Licking her greasy beak, Gilda opened the first bottle of soda. She chugged part of it in one go, the carbonation tickling her throat. Tears sprung to her eyes as the cold liquid stung her throat. Her palate cleansed, Gilda opened the first box of pizza.
The pizza went down just as nice as the breadsticks, and tasted just as good as the pizza from the night before. Losing herself, Gilda absentmindedly continued to eat until her body said enough was enough. During that time, she only paused long enough to quench her thirst with the soda, enjoying the bubbling liquid enough that she wasn’t aware of how much she consumed.
Just as Gilda became conscious of the pain of extreme fullness in her stomach, she put a paw into the pizza box she’d been eating from, and found nothing but a few crumbs. Blinking out of her stupor, Gilda realized she’d devoured everything she’d ordered, even the sodas. Leaning back on her creaking couch, Gilda realized how bloated, and heavy she felt.
Gilda heaved herself to her paws, barely managing to reach the floor around her massive stomach. Waddling slowly, her stomach dragging along the ground, Gilda managed to put the empties in her garbage bin, and struggled to the phone, where she dialed the number for her own bakery.
After a few rings, the griffon on the other end picked up, “Gilda’s Griffon Scones*, how can I help you?”
“It’s Gilda...dweeb. Heard of the...new restaurant?”
“Festivita? Yes, madam, we heard it opened near you. What about it?”
“I want you...to put a sign up...that Festivita is...the best Neightalion....spot in the city.”
“Really?”
“Yes...tell griffons, too.”
“Yes madam. I’ll let everyone know. Um, do you need anything else?”
“Send two batches...of scones to me.”
“They’ll arrive at your house soon, madam, I promise. I hope you have a good day. It’s good to hear from you!”
Gilda rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her beak. She hung up without another word, and dragged herself back to the couch. She eased her bulk onto it, and made herself comfortable as her stomach began to digest.
This restaurant is amazing. The only downside is that it’s so close. Gilda thought, before the sounds of her wheezing breath lulled her to sleep.
Three Months Later:
Gilda lay on the floor of her living room, having been unable to move from the place she’d chosen almost two months before. After nearly a month of nonstop gorging on both her own goods, and the heavy Neightalian food of Festivita’s, Gilda’s flabby belly and massive flanks had only grown larger.
As she’d suspected, it had been Gilda’s massive buttocks that had pinned her to the ground before her belly, though it had been a close call. Now, Gilda relied solely on her newfound friends, delivery ponies, and the kindness of others to survive.
All Gilda cared about, was glutting herself on whatever those griffons, and sometimes ponies, brought to her. She ate almost non-stop, all the time. Foods of all types, especially those heavy in calories while Gilda enjoyed watching her body expand before her very eyes.
Gilda’s legs were encased in sleeves of fat, leaving only her talons to poke out from underneath them. Her stomach served as a mattress, spreading underneath her to cushion her from the cold floor. Her rump had lost all definition, making it difficult to tell where it began, and her stomach ended. Her tail had become a thick, fat filled log that couldn’t budge beyond it’s place resting over her rump. Gilda’s wings were coated in fat themselves, and were partially buried in the rolls of her back. Her chest spread out in front of her, forcing her front legs far apart to be even remotely comfortable. Gilda’s head was completely spherical, buried into her various neck rolls. Her jowls and many chins melted into the folds of her neck and drooping down into her chest. Gilda was now blinded by the fat from her cheeks pushing up, and the fat succumbing to gravity on her forehead.
As much as she missed flying, Gilda had been grounded for a long time. This was simply another message to the griffons of Griffonstone: that Gilda was powerful, and that she could get as fat as she wished, and still be rich.
Gilda smiled, slurping down heavy, creamy soup served to her in a straw. This is the life.
END
Author's Note
*I know this is the name that PhealGud gave Gilda’s bakery in his story, Rarity and the Pride of Griffonstone, but I couldn’t think of anything else to call it. Since this is for him, anyway, I hope he doesn’t mind me borrowing the name just this once. Sorry, man, but I’m on a time crunch, and I wanted to put this up ASAP.
Happy Birthday PhealGud!
Please let me know what you think!
