1. In which the Brilliant Scholar makes a Medical Breakthrough
Light pierced the blackness, and as Daring Do’s vision came into focus, she found herself looking at the interior of a thatched-straw roof. She yawned and tried to stretch, but her hooves wouldn’t move. That woke her up completely.
Okay, she thought. I’m tied up in a strange hut. And naked. Don’t remember how I got here.
In fact, the last thing the could remember was leaving the Amarezon River behind and trekking through the dense rainforest underbrush. She shook her head. No pain there, so it probably wasn’t a blow to the head. I must have been drugged.
She sighed. What has my life come to, that I’m this calm about being knocked unconscious and tied up?
Daring was completely alone in the room. She hung upside-down a few feet above ground. A rope around her torso bound her wings to her sides; all four of her hooves were bound securely to a horizontal wooden pole, about hoof-thick, that stretched from one wall to another.
The walls were gray stone, and the floor was straw mats over dirt. A pair of enormous jungle gourds, large enough that twenty ponies apiece could have fit inside them, sat against the wall nearest Daring’s head, on each side of the horizontal pole. To the side, there was a door—a curtain covered it, but didn’t obscure the usual jungle noises of buzzing insects and bird calls. Opposite the door, Daring’s clothes and saddlebags rested on the floor; the shirt was neatly folded and had been cleaned since she last wore it.
Odd, she thought. Someone drugged me and tied me up, but didn’t leave a guard to watch me. And they washed my clothes. Daring glanced at the ropes binding her legs to the pole. There were cloth rags wrapped around her hooves, under the ropes. And whoever they are, they didn’t want the ropes to do any permanent damage. I wonder if I can...
Daring pulled her foreleg, testing her bonds. They were tight, and her hoof didn’t budge. She pulled again, straining until she groaned—and this time, the padding gave just enough for her hoof to slide, ever so slightly. She smirked, but that grin quickly fell from her face as another sound reached her ears: approaching hoofsteps.
The door curtain was flung aside, and three creatures entered the room. They were taller than a pony, with skinny legs and longer fur: llamas. The first two llamas—guards, presumably—wore feathered helmets and carried spears. They took their places on the left and right of the door. The third llama walked right up to Daring. He had an impressive blue cloak and a hat made from the bleached skull of some jungle cat and three peacock feathers. Looking at his face, Daring Do had the strangest sense of déjà vu.
The llama pointed a hoof straight at Daring and said, “You-um no should be here!”
Daring blinked. She knew that voice.
The llama continued, “Ponies come to valley—find only death. Ponies must drink big medicine! You-um—”
“Ymalotl?” Daring interrupted. Then she launched into her best attempt at Llamanese: “”
Now it was the llama, Ymalotl’s, turn to look surprised.
Daring continued. “”
“Daring Do!” Ymalotl broke out in a big smile, then switched into Canterlot-accented Equestrian: “I didn’t recognize you! Wow, it’s been too long. What brings you here?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” Daring chuckled. “Seriously, though, Ahuizotl thinks you llamas have some kind of ancient artifact of unimaginable power. So of course he—”
“Wants to steal it and use it to take over the world.” Ymalotl shook his head. “Oh, brother. That old chestnut...”
“So it’s not true then? Still, I had to check, just in case. And warn you.” Daring shrugged as best she could, with her legs bound. “So, why’d you tie me up like this? It’s a heck of a way to greet visitors.”
The smile fell from the llama’s face. “They’re for our safety. What I said before about death, and you needing to drink medicine—that was completely serious. On your way here, did you see a creeping vine with red flowers and yellow-spotted leaves? Did you touch it?”
Daring racked her brain. “Umm...”
“The wax on its leaves is a dangerous poison to llamas and ponies alike,” Ymalotl said as he walked over to one of the giant gourds. “Within a few days, any who touch it will lose their mind, become violent, and then die.”
“Oh. That’s no good.”
Ymalotl tapped the gourd’s side. For the first time, Daring noticed that both gourds had bamboo pipes, as thick as a pony’s hoof, emerging from their bases, rising a few feet, then ending in spigots. “Fortunately,” the llama said, “we have medicine to prevent that. And now that you’re awake, you can have your dose and be on your merry way!”
“Great! Thank you so mmmmrrph!” Daring got cut off by Ymalotl shoving a large funnel into her open mouth.
The llama grabbed Daring’s shoulders and pulled her along the pole, towards the gourds. One of the spigots was angled towards the pole; Ymalotl left Daring with her mouth-funnel directly underneath the spout. “Now, this might be bitter,” he said. “But you have to take the whole dose. A bit over a... quart, yes.”
He grabbed the handle and rotated it. The liquid, dark brown and thicker than water, slopped out of the spigot and down the funnel. A rich, dark scent filled Daring’s nostrils just as the fluid filled her mouth. This was a cocoa extract—sugarless, and with a much more intense flavor than the chocolates one could buy in Canterlot. Daring smiled around the funnel as she gulped down a mouthful. Sure, llama-style cocoa was relatively bitter, but she had developed a taste for the drink on previous trips down the Amarezon. From Ymalotl’s little warning, she’d been expecting something much worse.
As she swallowed her third mouthful, more hooves approached the door, and quickly. Another llama rushed into the room—dressed like Ymalotl, but with a yellow cloak, and smaller feathers in her hat. She was winded from running, but gasped out a message in Llamanese that Daring could mostly understand: “” Gasp. “ something ” Gasp. “ something something ”
Ymalotl regarded the newcomer. “”
“”
Ymalotl shook his head, then trotted out the door, muttering, “” The yellow-cloaked llama followed right behind him, and the two guards departed after her—leaving Daring, once again, alone in the room.
Okay, then, she thought, gulping down more of the cocoa. I guess I’ll just... take my medicine all by myself.
As she swallowed again, she noticed how full she felt. Hmm, I wasn’t keeping track. How much more makes a quart?
A bit over a minute passed, and Daring drank mouthful after mouthful. As her belly began to swell with the volume, she thought, Alright, that’s definitely a full dose. So now I just...
The situation finally sank in. Daring Do was bound and completely alone. She couldn’t shut off the flow of cocoa, and no one was around to do it for her.
Oh, horsefeathers. How much is in that gourd?
She gulped down some more as her belly bloated out further—pressing against the rope that bound her torso. Daring tried to turn her head, to get out from underneath the spigot, but the funnel was just too big. No matter which way she tried to turn, no matter how she twisted her neck, the funnel would catch on the spout, ensuring that every drop of cocoa flowed right into her mouth, filling her stomach even more. She was as large as a beach ball now, though squeezed in the middle by the rope over her wings.
“Rrrrrrrrr—” Gulp. “—rrrrrrrr—” Gulp. “—rrrrrrrgh!” Daring’s eyebrows furrowed in helpless rage. She reared her head back, then thrust forward—jabbing the pipe with the edge of the funnel as hard as she could.
Ow, she thought, as pain radiated from her teeth. Bad idea.
Her belly sloshed from the sudden motion, as it inflated further. The spigot also vibrated from the collision—then something inside it made a loud snap.
Suddenly, the cocoa poured out twice as fast as before.
Daring angrily murmured into the funnel, “Mmrr—” Gulp. “—rrrr—” Gulp. “—rrrr—” Gulp. “—rrrrrmmm!” Her belly inflated even faster under the sudden flood of cocoa. Her swelling torso would have hung to the ground, if she were standing up—and if that rope weren’t wound tight around her middle. Said rope frayed from the pressure as her stomach bloated beneath it, but it still held strong enough to dig deeper into her skin the larger she grew.
Daring scrunched her eyes shut and pulled her foreleg. She pulled with all her strength, until once again she felt the padding give and her hoof slide through. The motion set her huge belly wobbling once more—and that motion snapped several more strands in the center rope. Her belly bounced off her legs, and the inside of her haunches, as it sloshed back and forth. Daring ignored that sensation—and the maddening pressure building in her gut, and the intense stinging where the rope fought its losing battle to constrain her stomach—and focused instead on pulling on her hoof, over and over. With every hard-won quarter-inch, her huge belly shook harder from the effort, and the rope around it frayed even further.
Thanks to the funnel, Daring couldn’t see her hooves, but she could feel how close she was to freedom—and she was smiling. Then she pulled once more, and the smile fell off her face as the bond suddenly tightened around that hoof. She gave another yank, just to prove that this had actually happened; not only did the hoof refuse to budge, but the ropes and padding tightened around her other three hooves, too. Daring couldn’t see it, but her legs were thickening as they filled with liquid, just like her stomach.
She simply hung there in stunned disbelief for several seconds, inflating further from the relentless flow of cocoa. Then, with a muffled war-cry, she lunged, pulling furiously with her forelegs, over and over, in a futile attempt to free them. Her bloating stomach shook even harder than before—which proved too much for the rope around it. The last cords snapped, freeing her cocoa-swollen belly to wobble and jiggle and inflate even further. It completely filled the space between her limbs now, squishing against the wooden pole, against the insides of her legs—squeezing around them as it grew even wider. Her wings, now likewise unconstrained, shot straight out of their own accord. Then they, too, inflated—with a balloon-like gloosh, gloosh, gloosh, gloosh—each individual feather thickening into a fat finger-shape in rapid succession. Her back rounded out; she was beginning to resemble a furry balloon with limbs.
Daring ignored that, however. And she ignored just how good it felt to finally be rid of that rope around her torso. She even ignored the heightened sensitivity of the water bed that had once been her belly, as its side squeezed maddeningly around her legs. She was focused solely on yanking her forelegs free—the ropes’ increasing tightness merely spurring her to more frantic thrashing. Daring pulled and pushed and bucked her entire body, but her efforts grew more futile by the minute, as her legs inflated larger inside the bonds. Her gut wobbled and shook hypnotically as it continued expanding to the sides; her ballooning wings flopped back and forth from her motion.
The wooden pole that she hung from was beginning to warp now. It sagged down from the weight of the gallons upon gallons she swallowed—while between her legs, it bent the opposite direction as her bloating belly applied ever-increasing pressure upward.
“Hrr—” Gulp. “—rrrr—” Gulp. “—rhrr—” Gulp. “—rrrrh!” Daring’s growl of impotent fury would have been wordless even if there hadn’t been anything blocking her mouth.
Daring thrust forward hard enough to push the pole out of its holder on the wall, between the gourds. The end only lifted a few inches before slamming back down again. Daring’s gut sloshed even more from the impact. She thrust again, harder than before. The pole bounced off the side of the gourd—the one that wasn’t currently pouring endless gallons of cocoa down her throat—before landing back in its holder, creaking ominously as it bent even further from her weight. Daring growled as she shoved, harder still.
The pole’s end rose a full foot into the air, then bounced off that same gourd once more. This set the gourd rocking back and forth on its base, and rotating as it did. With ponderous motion, it spun inward until its spigot was directly above Daring’s mouth-funnel—then it finally slammed against the floor and came to rest.
The impact broke something inside the pipe. Cocoa poured out the second spout now. It started off as a trickle then quickly grew, until the flood of dark liquid from the second gourd outpaced that from the first. Daring’s ears folded back as her cheeks bulged out—she could barely swallow fast enough to keep up with the volume pouring into her mouth.
She swelled out a foot in every direction, and that was finally too much for the pole to take. The shaft simply snapped at both spots where her legs were tied, dumping her on her back, on the straw mats below. Daring was so round now that her back cushioned the fall, and her head never touched the floor. Her bulk sloshed from the landing, her belly bouncing the broken-off segment of the pole clear to the other side of the room. Her wings splayed out on the ground, their feathers swelling thicker and blunter with every further mouthful of cocoa she swallowed. Because of course her head was still underneath both spigots—and Daring, dazed, could do nothing more than gulp down gallon after endless gallon of the thick liquid.
Her hooves remained bound to each other, but not for long. Between the force of her enormous belly pushing her legs out as it inflated even larger, and the liquid building up inside her legs, the pressure on those ropes increased inexorably. Finally the bonds gave up, first on her hind legs, then her fore. Before Daring could even think of reacting, her legs splayed straight out—and when Daring tried to move them, they refused to budge. They were fat balloons now, too inflated to flex at all. The sensation of skin rubbing against skin—hair against hair—told her that her bloating belly had squished over the bases of her legs. Her torso was swallowing her limbs as it inflated ever larger.
Daring was completely unbound now, yet she was, if anything, even more helpless than before. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but the unrelenting flow of cocoa wouldn’t even let her do that. All she could do was swallow, and swallow, and inflate even more, and wonder just how large she would be when this was finally over...
———
Ymalotl and his small retinue trotted up to the cottage—the one on the outskirts of the city, where visitors could be quarantined until they received their medicine.
“” he said, “
Xchactlat, the llama in the yellow cloak, answered, “”
“” Ymalotl pulled aside the door curtain, and his jaw dropped. “”
The cottage interior seemed smaller, but only because a huge, brownish-gold balloon nearly filled the whole thing. At the widest point, there was only a foot of space between Daring Do’s bloated torso and the walls, and the top of her belly brushed against the ceiling rafters. Her legs had sunk into her sides, until only her hooves—inflated to three times their usual size—remained visible. Her wings, stretched across the floor, were filled so large they could have been Princess-size mattresses.
She had completely drained both gourds and swollen up with thousands of gallons of cocoa.
Daring’s face was barely visible around the great curve of her bloated body. She glared daggers at the llamas.
Ymalotl and Xchaclat exchanged glances. “” they both said.
2. In which the Intrepid Adventurer Slays a God
The next day...
The rainforest was resplendent: the intense greens of the leaves, the rich browns of the tree trunks, and the flowers providing splashes of red, orange, and blue. It was a riot of colors and shadows, worthy of any kaleidoscope.
“”
And like a kaleidoscope, the entire scene rotated, as Daring Do rolled along.
An extra-wide path had been cleared through the forest and paved with wooden planks. Even so, Daring was wide enough that she felt leaves, from the trees bordering the trail, brush against her rump as passed. At least she wasn’t rolling fast enough to get dizzy.
Ymalotl and Xchactlat groaned as they shoved Daring, their hooves sinking deep into her huge, soft stomach. As her bulk rolled a few more feet, they paused to catch their breath.
“” Ymalotl said to the guards, standing a respectful distance back. “”
“This stinks,” Daring said. “And you stink, Yma, for doing this to me. I thought we were... you know, acquaintances on reasonably good terms.”
“And I’m fond of you, too, Daring,” he replied. “Otherwise I would not have chosen you for this great honor!”
The llamas gave another shove. Daring’s great, wobbling mass moved another few feet. “Great honor?” she retorted. “What’s so great about being sacrificed?”
“It’s really not as bad as you’re making it out to be. If you just keep an open mind, I think you’ll like it!”
“Open mind. Oh, brother.” After rolling a bit further down the trail, Daring continued, “Look, buddy, I’m all for cultural sensitivity, but it’s a two-way street. Where I come from, we have a proud tradition of not getting carved up on the altars of jungle gods, so you really need to respect that tradition!”
Ymalotl gave a good laugh at that; when he translated her words into Llamanese, the other llamas laughed equally hard. “Wow,” he said to Daring. “You have no idea.”
“Then explain.”
“Too late for that. It’s quicker to just show you, now.” The llamas gave Daring one last shove. She rolled to a stop—upright, fortunately—in a jungle clearing. She faced a large, stone house, decorated with bright banners and flags of every color.
A tall gong hung next to the house’s door. Xchactlat rang it once, then shouted, “”
“” the other three llamas chanted. Then all four of them bolted, taking the path back to the city. Ymalotl left behind a duffle bag holding Daring’s clothes—which, at the moment, she couldn’t possibly fit into.
Daring was alone in the clearing, and more or less immobile. She gulped and awaited her fate.
She didn’t have to wait long. Hoofsteps approached from inside the house, and with them, a voice muttered—in Equestrian—“Stupid gong... Stupid sacrifices... Interrupted a very good nap, so this had better be...”
The owner of the voice stepped out the door and froze, boggling at Daring. “You’re not a llama.”
Daring boggled right back. This “white god” was a pegasus stallion—and not just any stallion. That pretty face, that silver mane—in spite of his unkempt appearance from living in a jungle city these past few years, Daring Do would recognize him anywhere.
Images came to her mind—not memories, but vivid fantasies that Daring had entertained years ago. She saw herself and this stallion embracing each other. She saw herself melting into his kiss. She saw him in bed, lying on his back, while she straddled his huge, throbbing...
Suddenly, Daring was acutely aware of just how long it had been since she had known the touch of a stallion.
She shook her head, as if to fling those distractions away. She met the stallion’s gaze and said, “Silver Gull?”
He started in response to his name, then approached Daring. “Sweet Celestia, you’re a pony! I thought... um, never mind.” He blushed, his red cheeks standing out from his white coat. “Wait, you know me? May I be so bold to presume you’re here to rescue me?”
Daring’s eyes darted about. “Um... I am now!” She flapped her wings, jiggling the great, fat belly beneath her. “Just, as soon as I can move again, I’ll bust outta here and bring you with me!”
Silver smiled, a sight that made Daring’s heart flutter. “That sounds lovely,” he said. “And to whom do I owe this honor, Miz...?”
Daring furrowed her brows. “Really? I put on a bit of weight since the last time we spoke, but I’d have hoped you’d still remember me better than that.”
Silver quirked one eyebrow, exactly the way that Daring remembered. And then he looked intently at her—not just her face, but the endless expanse of roundness that was her body—studying her. There was a lot to study.
Digesting all that cocoa butter from yesterday’s meal had really done a number on Daring Do. Her once-lithe figure was now buried under layers upon layers of fat—inches thick in places, and feet thick in others. Daring’s belly was a huge cushion, lifting her to two or three times the height of a normal pony. Her haunches were even thicker, each individual rump cheek a small planet of blubber—giving her an overall pear shape. Her own weight squished her down slightly, making her even wider than she was tall. The thick fat encasing her legs had merged with the padding around her torso, forming doughnut shapes on her shoulders and haunches, with her hooves barely poking out of their centers. Even her neck had disappeared under the layers of fat: Daring could barely move her head without squishing her chubby cheeks against her shoulders. Only her wings had been spared—they sat, comically small, atop the huge slope of her back.
In short, she had curves in all the right places—and the right places were everywhere.
“Oh my, that cutie mark...” Silver met her eyes again. “Daring Do? Is that really you?... Well. Fate certainly does twist and turn in the most peculiar fashion, doesn’t it?”
He gestured to his house and continued, “Why don’t we step in—” He glanced between the door and Daring, who was several times too wide to fit through. “Why don’t I set up a tent?”
———
As it turned out, Silver Gull’s tent was designed to house an entire caravan, so it was more than large enough for this jumbo-sized Daring Do to comfortably move around inside—that is, if she were able to move. Now, as the magic air conditioner began to take effect, Silver zipped the flaps shut over all the tent entrances. His rear was facing Daring, and she couldn’t help but steal a glance—or several—at what hung between his hind legs.
The years of jungle living had been nice to Silver. The llamas called him a god, and he had the body to match. From shoulders to haunches to hooves he was lean and aerodynamic, with hardly an ounce of fat obscuring his wiry muscles. His rump was solid and tight, perfect for thrusting. And his balls—they looked almost as big as oranges, and tastier, too. Though Daring couldn’t help but wonder if their size implied something about how pent-up Silver was. Perhaps the jungle hadn’t been so nice to him, after all.
“There!” Silver said as he turned back to his gargantuan guest. “I wish I could offer you more substantial lodging. But...”
“Eh, I’ve slept with worse.” Daring’s eyes widened. “I mean, in worse!” Both ponies looked away. Daring coughed and continued, “So! Silver Gull, what’s your story? You disappeared three years ago on a trip down the Amarezon, and now you’re here in need of a rescue. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, an adventurer-archeologist like you would certainly know how it goes. One minute you’re exploring what you thought was a completely uninhabited rainforest, and then suddenly the locals drag you here and make you wear this getup”—he gestured at his gold collar and white-feathered cap, resting in the tent corner—“because their arcane astrology says that you’re the earthly emanation for one of their gods.”
Apparently Silver still couldn’t quite believe Daring’s recent transformation. As he spoke, he kept glancing at her body—her huge, round gut and her thick haunches—with shock and second-hoof embarrassment, if the blush on his face and way he ruffled his wings were any indication.
He continued, “They treat me well enough, I have to admit. Still, a cage is a cage, gilded or not.”
Daring smirked. “Caged or not, you’re looking pretty good, Silver.”
“Thanks. So are you.” Silver’s eyes widened, his wings shot out in alarm, and he clamped his forehooves over his mouth. Behind those hooves, he blushed even harder than before, his entire face reddening.
Daring’s jaw dropped as the gears turned in her head. She remembered the ponies Silver Gull had dated back at the University; she considered the way he’d been looking at her ever since she showed up here—there was one simple explanation, and she felt a bit stupid for not realizing it sooner. “You like bigger mares, don’t you, Silver?”
“Please, Daring Do...” The look in Silver’s eyes confirmed this was a genuine plea, not a sarcastic dismissal. He folded his wings deliberately, tightly at his side. “There is a time and place for everything, and this is not it.”
“I’m turning you on right now, aren’t I? You chubby chaser, you!”
He removed the hooves from in front of his face, and instead clamped them over his ears. “Lalalala we are not having this conversation right now, lalalalaLAAAA!”
“Maybe if I’d put on a few pounds back then, you’d have slept with me—”
“No.” Silver placed his hooves back on the ground. His face was still flushed, but he spoke with confidence now. “I said it back then and I’ll say it again now: you were a student, and I a professor. Regardless of how either of us felt, relations of that sort would have been terribly improper!”
Daring smirked. “But I’m not a student anymore. You know what that means?”
Silver opened his mouth as if to reply, but no words came out.
Daring wriggled, leaning to the side as hard as she could. She couldn’t walk or fly in her current state, but she could still roll herself from side to side. Soon enough, she was resting on her back, her belly piled high atop her as she looked right at Silver, upside down. “It means no more pesky ethics keeping you from helping me. Doing something for me that only a big, strong stallion can do...”
“Are you implying...”
“Can you give me a belly rub?”
Silver’s wings flared again. His blush, which had been fading, came back in full force.
“You know,” Daring continued, “I think something I ate is giving me gas, so if you could massage me right there, it would be soooooooo helpful. Nothing improper about that, right? Just two professionals, helping each other out. We can see where it goes from there.”
The corner of Silver’s mouth curved up in the barest hint of a smile. Daring responded with her best bedroom eyes, then waggled her legs to set her gut wobbling like a roll of gelatin. Silver shook his head and said, “Oh, to Tartarus with it...” before taking to the air.
He hovered above the hilltop of her belly, his gaze sliding up and down her voluminous curves. “Did... did you have anything in particular in mind?” he asked.
Daring smiled back up at him. “Whatever you think is best, stud. You, uh, probably know more about satisfying fat mares than I do.”
Silver gulped, then muttered to himself, “It’s like a buffet. I don’t know where to start.” His gaze settled on her navel, and he descended towards it, holding his breath. He only released that breath when he made contact—his forehoof on her belly. She was even softer than he had imagined, offering only the slightest resistance as he pressed a few inches into that flab. Finally, he perched on her, and each of his hooves sank a full foot into the great cushion of her stomach.
Daring shivered, sending ripples across her body and vibrations up Silver’s legs. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“That felt really good,” she answered. “Keep going.”
He smirked. “Baby, I haven’t even started.” At that, he dropped to a kneel and really went to work on Daring. He poked one forehoof into her belly, then extended that leg, pushing a mass of fat towards her head. Then he released it and watched as the mass fell back into place, jiggling from the motion. Then he did it again, in the opposite direction, pulling a great armful of blubber towards himself and then letting it go. Over and over he repeated this, now with both forelegs, kneading her flab back and forth, forward and back.
Daring found herself unconsciously matching her breaths to the pace Silver set, as she slowly surrendered to the massage. His strong hooves, penetrating deep into her fat, were points of pleasure, intense and bright. Though they were small in comparison to her enormous bulk, the feeling spread with every ripple in her body—radiating to every curve of her great, jiggling mass. Sweat formed on Daring’s forehead, and it wasn’t from the temperature in the tent.
Silver had crept forward as he massaged Daring. Now, he brought his backside down, folding his hind legs beneath his haunches. He paused, waiting for her huge gut to stop wobbling—but it wouldn’t. Daring inhaled, and her mass shifted, pushing Silver a few inches towards her rear; she exhaled, and he moved with her gut a few inches towards her head. He grinned giddily at the motion. Daring was so large that the simple act of breathing figuratively and literally rocked his world.
Silver went back to rubbing the huge belly beneath him with renewed vigor. Now, he stroked in great circles, sometimes with both hooves at once, and sometimes alternating. Around, his right hoof went, Daring’s gut sloshing at its touch; around, the left hoof went, her gut sloshing again; around, both hooves went, and she shook even harder at that. Over and over she wobbled under Silver’s gentle but firm pressure. And as he kept up the massage, he wriggled further and further forward, crawling from her bountiful belly to her flabby chest.
Daring moaned softly. This really was a pleasant surprise: she had suggested a belly rub mainly to get Silver in the proper mood for the main event, as she expected that he would get more out of the massage itself than she would. Yet here she was, enjoying this foreplay far more than she could have anticipated. Part of it was the fact than an absolute hunk of a stallion couldn’t keep his hooves off her. He was, in fact, giving her enough physical affection for a goddess—a Venus of Willenhoof, perhaps, but a goddess all the same. But no, that wasn’t all that was turning her on. She had become much more sensitive where she had stretched, where she accumulated her layers of fat. Nearly her entire body now was not quite an erogenous zone, but awfully close. So as Silver’s wonderful hooves pushed further into her blubber—as pleasure rippled through her entire being with the jiggles his every slightest motion caused—the heat slowly but steadily grew in her core.
Silver glanced up from the flab beneath his hooves, then saw Daring’s face and found he couldn’t look away. She looked back at him with half-lidded eyes. She was breathing hard; her cherubic cheeks were flushed bright red, wobbling in time with the rest of her body. Daring moaned again, snapping Silver out of his reverie. He scooted down the hill of blubber until he was close enough, then planted a kiss right on her lips.
Daring returned the kiss without hesitation. She even tried to wrap her forelegs around Silver—briefly forgetting that her legs were trapped in her own blubber—causing her bulk to shake again. Then Daring thrust her tongue forward, invading Silver’s mouth, much to his pleasant surprise. It was his turn to moan now, as he scooted closer to press his lips tighter against Daring’s. He reached around Daring, gently placing one hoof on the back of her head, and with the other gripping the thick fat that obscured her shoulder.
His back started to slide further, thanks to the steep slope of Daring’s chest—so with his hind legs, Silver grabbed and squeezed her flab as tightly as he could. Daring felt her supple flesh squish up and fill the space between his haunches. The feeling of her own fat pressing tightly against Silver was enough to fan the smoldering coals of Daring’s desire into a proper flame.
Daring broke the kiss, and Silver laid his head on her shoulder flab, his cheek resting against her own, much fatter one. They panted a few seconds, their breath hot on each other’s fur. Daring was the first to speak: “Hey, hot stuff, that felt pretty good.”
“Thanks.”
“But I didn’t ask you to stop.” Daring smirked. “Why don’t you give my other side some attention?”
Silver gave her another kiss on the lips, this one just a quick peck, before lifting into the air and landing once more on the flabby peak of Mount Daring Do. Facing her backside, he renewed his massage with extra gusto. This time, he followed no set pattern. Sometimes, like before, he stroked in great circles or pushed her blubber away and then back. Sometimes, he held his fore legs out to the side, against her fat, and waved them forward and back, like a foal making breezie silhouettes in the snow. Sometimes he just pressed as far into Daring as he could, sinking up to his elbows or even higher, and delighting in her soft skin enveloping his hooves. And sometimes he grabbed a mass of flab between his forelegs and buried his face in it, deeply inhaling the pungent aroma of her perspiration.
Daring stared shamelessly at Silver’s backside, enjoying the sight of his rump flexing, his haunches twitching, as he made his progress. He slowly disappeared over the horizon of Daring’s own gut—but the feeling as he went was almost as good. He was laying flat against Daring now, his hind legs splayed to the side while he scooted along. Sometimes he dug those hooves and his stifles into her stomach; sometimes he squeezed her blubber between his haunches. All the while, Daring’s own skin squished tight against Silver’s underside, embracing his every curve and crevice. His balls were warm, squeezed between his groin and her gut, and their temperature added to the growing heat in Daring’s loins. As her own flab enveloped those thick, sweaty orbs, she almost thought she felt them swell larger. On the other hoof, his “little professor” was definitely growing larger—and more rigid—by the second, poking into Daring’s belly as he emerged from his sheath.
Daring shivered once more, and Silver felt the ripples in her fat with his entire body. He crawled further. Once again, Daring’s gut sloped down steeply towards her rump and tail, so Silver flapped his wings in reverse to press himself tightly against her. He widened his grip with his forelegs, and found one hoof resting on the crevice between Daring’s flank and the roll of fat that had once been her hind leg. His eyes widened, and he plunged his hoof in. Closer he crawled, until he could slide both legs in up to his shoulder. Back and forth he wiggled his hooves, savoring how his limbs were simply lost between the two masses of flab. He poked his snout in and inhaled...
“Hey!” Daring called, snapping Silver back into the present. “Don’t you think that’s enough foreplay?”
“I... guess.” Silver smiled sheepishly, even though Daring couldn’t even see him.
Daring made bedroom eyes, even though Silver couldn’t even see her, and said in her best attempt at a sultry voice, “Feels like ‘little Silver’ is awake and raring to go. Don’t you wanna take him spelunking?”
“...Spelunking?”
“You know, don’t you want to explore my hidden temple?”
“Wait, you’re asking to rut?”
“Come on, professor, isn’t there any poetry in your soul? I want you to plunder my hidden treasures! I want to uncover the wisdom of the ancients with you! I want you to be the sword in my stone! I want to fill my Holy Grail with your juice until it’s overflowing!” Daring waggled her hooves, then paused to catch her breath. “Yes, I wanna rut.”
“That... sounds wonderful.” Silver pulled himself out and took to the air. “Although, I think we may need to roll you over to make this, ah, logistically feasible.”
Daring rolled her eyes. “Wow. You certainly know the way to a mare’s heart,” she muttered. Nevertheless, she leaned to the side, beginning to roll herself over.
“Wait,” Silver said. “Why don’t you relax. Let me get you into position.” He landed at Daring’s side and placed his forehooves on her belly; from this close, it positively towered over him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed. He sank deep into her blubber before that mass finally pushed back. Her bulk shifted around him, and he could feel as she wobbled all over. Gritting his teeth, Silver pushed even harder, and Daring finally rolled a few feet. He stepped forward, flapping his wings to provide more thrust, and she rolled a little bit further.
Silver’s hind hoof slipped. He fell, sprawling on the ground.
He had just enough time to look up and see the overwhelming mass of Daring’s stomach as it rolled over him. Then everything went dark—and soft, tight, and warm.
“Silver?!” Daring called. A muffled groan from somewhere underneath was her only answer—but she could clearly feel the spot where her fat completely covered Silver, pinning him to the ground. Daring wriggled frantically to roll herself upright as quickly as possible. After a few false starts, and a great deal of wobbling and jiggling, she was once again resting atop her belly. Silver emerged from the indentation he had made in her belly fat, and rested atop her.
“Sorry about that,” Daring said.
“No, don’t be. That, uh...” Under his breath, Silver continued, “That was hotter than Tartarus.”
“What was that?”
“I mean, that was my fault! Since I insisted on moving you myself, and all.” He gently ran one hoof along her back. “You’re too much mare for one stallion to handle. I love that about you, Daring.”
“Oh, my stars, you are such a dork.”
Silver laughed at that, and Daring continued: “Come on, you goober, I can’t stand the suspense anymore. If any stallion can handle this much mare, it’s probably you. You are a god, after all. So take me now! Or, Celestia help me, I’ll roll over on you again!”
He smirked as he flew over to Daring’s rump. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Daring had already flagged her tail, completely exposing herself, and he landed there. From his place atop her massive backside, Silver shifted slightly, seeking the right position to proceed from. As he did, his divine staff slid between Daring’s rump cheeks, its tip brushing up and down across her nethers and unintentionally teasing her further. He finally lined himself up correctly, all four hooves gripping her blubber tightly.
Silver paused for just a few seconds. He was a remora, about to attach to a great white shark. He was an alpinist, straddling the peak of the sexiest mountain in Equestria. He was, he realized, the luckiest stallion ever.
Daring said, “What are you waiting fo—Aaa!”
Silver thrust, finally sliding inside Daring. In spite of the immense layers of blubber coating her, Daring’s core was still as muscular as before. She tightened around Silver, providing blessed resistance until he stopped with only his head inside. Then he thrust again, shaking Daring’s entire bulk with the motion, probing a little deeper. And then again, and again, and again—Silver fell into an ancient rhythm as the most primal part of his brain came to the forefront, rapidly lowering his capacity for rational thought.
Daring, likewise, was finding it hard to think of anything besides this Spear of Destiny that was impaling her. Compared to her entire bulk, it was barely a mosquito sting, but the pleasure was entirely out of proportion to its size. Unconsciously, Daring tried to match Silver’s primal rhythm and push back against his thrusts—but, cocooned in her own blubber and with her hooves nowhere near the floor, she had nothing solid to push against, so the bucking of her hips just set her fat a-wobbling. But those wobbles served to multiply the sensation of Silver’s every thrust, which was just as good.
And Silver was barely inside her yet. Daring’s arousal had thoroughly lubricated her love canal, yet she clamped so tightly around his shaft that his progress was agonizingly, wonderfully slow. Daring panted, letting her tongue hang out her mouth, as Silver slid in another hard-earned half-inch.
“Silver...” she moaned. “I think... Oooooh!” Daring clamped her eyes shut yet saw nothing but white as pleasure exploded across her brain. She arched her back and bucked even harder than before, this time with no real rhythm. A tiny, rational part of her brain was disappointed that her climax was so anticlimactic—as best she could tell, Silver wasn’t even halfway inside her yet—while the rest of her brain and body drowned that voice out with their screams of joy.
Silver felt Daring tense, and he paused his own thrusting. As her canal tightened around him, rhythmically contracting as if to milk him, he took deep, slow breaths and mentally recited a traditional llama meditation. It worked: he felt his arousal diminishing, his member shrinking slightly. Silver knew that this tryst was possibly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he’d be damned if he squandered it by coming before he was completely inside her. So, he waited—and such was his focus that he that he didn’t notice his own balls growing even more, swelling larger than coconuts from his pent-up lust. Finally, Daring let out a long sigh, and went limp and soft.
As Daring came down from her high, she was vaguely aware of Silver asking if he could continue—she mumbled something in the affirmative—and then her body shaking again. Silver was delving deeper still into her, exploring more of her innermost secrets. But, strangely, it felt more comfortable than sexy right now, like a cuddle for her insides. As she rocked back and forth with his thrusts, she even considered going to sleep right here. Daring smiled softly at the sensation of—Oh Celestia! She could feel every vein and bump on that thing! And was that Silver’s ring?! Daring snapped awake, and the embers of her arousal burst back into life, growing in mere seconds to a blazing inferno.
Daring wobbled and shook harder beneath Silver’s hooves, as she resumed her attempts to buck against him. Silver moaned as he thrust a little deeper—her soft but tight insides yielding slightly to his advances. Silver’s hind legs and haunches were wedged between Daring’s rump cheeks now; it was the only way he could get close enough to penetrate her further. And those wonderful cheeks were making it even harder to proceed—not because they were physically impeding him, but because those great masses of flab felt good as they wrapped around him, so good that Silver was in very real danger of blowing his load now. And he was so close...
Silver gritted his teeth, and with a low, bestial growl, he thrust harder than he’d ever thrust before. He slid—one inch, two inches—and finally felt himself hilt, his massively inflated balls bouncing against the back of her stomach.
Silver Gull’s length was completely inside Daring Do. His upper body was sprawled on her back, or at least the small portion he could reach. His groin was clamped tightly against her. No space remained between these two ponies who had, for this moment, had become one flesh.
Silver panted and tried to pull back, but Daring clamped her rump cheeks, pinning him in place. “Oh yeah,” she said. “This is nice.”
“Daring...” Silver said, with far more of a whine in his voice than he liked. “What are...”
“Patience, grasshopper.” Daring panted as well. “Let’s just... enjoy this.”
Silver was finding that unusually difficult. Sure, it was more than nice to be this far inside Daring—and enveloped by her rump to boot. But, having held himself back from climaxing so long, now he wanted release more than anything else in the world. He could feel himself teetering maddeningly on the edge of the precipice. The slightest bit of further stimulation would push him over, but he was powerless to get it—completely at Daring’s mercy.
He whimpered as he struggled against the flab that held him. The grip was soft but tight, and he couldn’t move an inch. His balls began to sting as his seed swelled them even larger.
“After all,” Daring continued, “didn’t you say this was... ‘hotter than Tartarus’?”
“That was... Nnnnnnnngh...” The fire in Silver’s groin was almost painful now. He couldn’t see his testicles’ continued inflation—even compressed between Daring’s cheeks, they were larger than beach balls—but he could feel the pressure building inexorably inside them. “Please... I...”
“Really now...” Daring sighed. “When we’re having a good time, what’s the point in rushing to the end?”
“What?!” he sputtered. “This was... fast for you?”
Daring smirked. “Theory of relativity, my good professor! The bad times always last too long, while the good times always go by too fast. And that goes double for sex.”
“Oh. I guess...” Silver wriggled futilely once more. His seed churned furiously in his overstuffed balls. “But we could... turn a good time... into a bad time, here... if you don’t—”
Daring bucked her hips just once. That was enough to push Silver over the edge.
“Daring Daaaaaaaaaaaaugh!” His eyes rolled back in his head, while his other head flared deep inside Daring.
Daring’s eyes widened from the sensation. That first payload of Silver’s seed was huge, enough volume to fill her womb nearly to the brim with one spurt—and already she could feel the second load on its way. Silver’s girth had been generous before; now, it swelled impossibly with jizz, a great bulge that massaged her insides as it traveled down his shaft. When it reached the end, this payload was even larger than the first—and already, another bulge was rushing down to join it. As her womb swelled with the third payload, then the fourth, the fifth, the sixth—as every bulge brushed against each and every sensitive spot in her canal—Daring used her brief remaining moments of lucidity to wonder just how much one stallion could possibly ejaculate. Then the flood of pleasure overwhelmed her brain, and she orgasmed again, welcoming the oncoming white flood with moans of ecstasy.
Silver scrunched his entire face in an expression of comical concentration. He was simultaneously buried in magma under the Earth’s crust and soaring high above Cloud Nine. The pressure in his balls had finally relented—and that felt so good—but only slightly. There was just so much more pressure—so much seed that he needed to get out, needed to pump into this beautiful, wonderful mare. His haunches flexed and twitched, of their own volition attempting to thrust further, even though he couldn’t possibly get any closer to Daring. She shook and sloshed beneath him, and he couldn’t tell if it was from his motion, or her bucking, or even the volume of jizz he was filling her with. In fact, Silver wasn’t in a state to wonder at all about the difference; his brain was far too clouded with the intermingled pain and pleasure to think anything more complicated than, Rut rut rut rut rut!
Though neither pony was conscious enough to notice, Daring Do was inflating in earnest now. Every one of Silver’s payloads added about an inch to her diameter, and he was firing those off faster and faster. Her belly swelled with seed, squishing out to the sides and lifting both ponies into the air—five times the height of a normal pony, and then even higher.
When Daring came down from her climax, she was almost immediately assaulted by the tidal waves of arousal and pleasure yet again. Silver’s blasts of seed were coming so rapidly that it was practically a constant stream now—a flood even greater than the flow of cocoa that had pumped into her yesterday. His entire shaft had widened with that flow, completely filling her canal with its girth. Its length vibrated back and forth from the contractions of pumping countless gallons into her—stimulating every square inch of her insides. And there was another source of pleasure, a distinct second place but growing greater with every passing moment: her womb was becoming more sensitive the larger it grew. The bigger it bloated—the tighter it stretched—the better it felt.
She had just enough time to think, Wow. He really does have the Hammer of the Gods! before she came again.
Silver’s brain, meanwhile, was still stuck in Rut rut rut rut rut rut rut! He was a biological machine now, mindlessly thrusting, shaking Daring’s great bulk, pumping her ever larger with endless quantities of his seed.
Daring swelled larger and larger. She had hundreds of gallons of jizz inside, and Silver showed no signs of running dry any time soon. Her sides brushed against the tent’s fabric walls and sidled up against the support posts. Her fat squished around those wood poles as she bloated wider and wider. Her inflating torso also began to swallow her legs once more—or at least her hooves, the only part still visible. Slowly, inch by inch, her hooves sank into her bloating sides.
Daring moaned lewdly and incoherently, her tongue hanging out once more. She started to emerge from her orgasmic ecstasy—then her next one hit before she could even think anything.
Seven times her old height she inflated, then eight times—higher and higher. The tent supports dug into the sides of her bloating belly, while the walls flared outward as they draped over her gut. Further and further out she swelled, with only those wooden posts attempting to hold her back. Her hooves were half gone, sinking deeper into her jizz-filled mass. A gurgle came from deep inside Daring, matched by ominous creaks as the tent poles bent under her weight, under the unrelenting flood of seed inside her.
Silver rode atop her, filling her with ever-greater volumes of his love juice. Slightly more than a foot of clearance remained between his head and the tent roof, and that distance was steadily shrinking.
Daring was climaxing over and over now. Each new orgasm hit so quickly after the last that she couldn’t tell when one stopped and the other began—a nearly constant flow, much like the flow of Silver’s seed into her distended gut, pumping her larger and larger.
The tent poles strained further under the force of Daring’s inflation, her belly fat almost completely enveloping them. The tent walls finally pushed back; they couldn’t flare any further to accommodate her growing stomach. Meanwhile, the flab squished over the tips of her hooves as her bloating sides finally swallowed her legs. From his perch on Daring’s backside, Silver’s mane brushed against the tent roof—and he just kept pumping his seed into her, until he was sandwiched between the roof and her rump. As the fabric pushed him deeper into Daring’s fat, he was too far gone to notice (Rut rut rut rut rut!), and he continued filling her, unabated.
Daring Do’s bloated, cum-swollen body completely filled the tent, meant to house an entire caravan. And then wrecked it. The poles snapped, one after another; the walls tore from top to bottom. But the roof didn’t fall—Daring’s huge, quivering mass lifted it even higher, as she inflated with even more seed.
———
Ahuizotl swung his machete, clearing a wide path through the foliage. Turning back, he called, “Hurry up, you miscreants! The llama capital city is just beyond that ridge!”
His pony mercenaries plodded along behind him, but one overachiever rushed forward to survey the other side of the ridge. “Boss?” he said. “What the hay is that?” He pointed at a clearing just outside the city proper.
Ahuizotl joined him and looked. A great, round thing was in the center of the clearing, visibly swelling larger as he watched. What looked like a large tent rested atop it, but the inflating object itself was a brownish gold: the same color as that blasted archeologist who was constantly foiling Ahuizotl’s schemes. But what connection could there be between her and this?
He pointed his telescope at it, looked through—and his jaw dropped.
Ahuizotl stowed the telescope and turned away. “That’s it, boys. We’re going home. This is just too stupid for me.”
“But, boss! What about—”
“There will be other ancient artifacts we can use to take over the world.” Ahuizotl shook his head. “But whatever did that to Daring Do, I want nothing to do with it.”
———
Light pierced the haze of that last orgasm, and as Daring Do’s vision came into focus, she found herself looking down at a stone house in a grassy clearing. The house was decorated with flags and banners of every color; the setup seemed vaguely familiar. Then she remembered whose house it was, and she absent-mindedly wondered why she was above it. The question didn’t seem too important. Daring just felt too damn good to worry about anything.
She yawned and tried to stretch her legs, but they didn’t feel right—and the rest of her body shook, no, sloshed in a way that definitely wasn’t normal. It was like she was trapped inside a water bed... or like she was the water bed. She turned her head, but her neck would barely move at all. As Daring surveyed what she could see of her own body, she finally remembered what had happened.
If Daring had been a whale after her cocoa meal, now she was some kind of mythical sea monster that ate whales for breakfast. Resting atop her belly, inflated with a lake’s worth of Silver’s seed, she towered over his house; in fact, she was closer to the top of the surrounding rainforest canopy than she was to the ground. The broken remains of the tent were still on her back, looking more like a shawl than like a shelter for dozens of ponies. A shawl that was too small for her, even—more of her round, bloated form was exposed to the elements than was covered by the fabric.
Daring had to laugh. She’d promised Silver Gull that she would break out and free him as soon as she got her mobility back—and now here she was, even more immobile than before. She couldn’t blame anypony but herself. Actually, she couldn’t really blame herself either, because how the hay could she have predicted this would happen if she rutted Silver?
Speaking of which, where was Silver? Daring could feel that he wasn’t penetrating her anymore, but she couldn’t tell where he actually was. She looked down, searching the clearing below for some sign of the stallion—then she heard the tent fabric rustling and felt movement somewhere on top of her.
“Daring!” Silver called, his voice slurred from exhaustion. “Daring Do! Babe, are you okay?”
“I’m okay!” she called back. “How about you, you... hot stallion, you?” Her own words seemed perfectly normal to her, in her post-coital daze.
“I love you, Daring! Because you’re so awesome. I’m gonna, I’m gonna... You’re awesome!”
“No, you’re awesome! ...Stud muffin!”
“No, you’re... you’re...” Silver collapsed atop her and began snoring loudly.
“Yeah, that... that sounds good,” Daring said. She breathed out a big sigh and smiled as she closed her eyes, then drifted off to sleep.
Author's Note
Brony Fife's Soarin Gives Rainbow Dash a Belly Rub and Megapone's All You Can Eat were inspirations for the belly rub scene.
DVD Special Features:
Deleted scene:
“So,” Daring said, “what does godhood entail?”
“Well, it’s more ceremonial than anything else,” Silver answered. “I’m reasonably sure these llamas are only pretending to believe in me because it’s a social lubricant. Much like all those ponies in Canterlot, pretending that Princess Celestia raises and lowers the Sun.”
“Um, the Princess really does control the Sun.”
Silver rolled his eyes. “Suuuuure she does.”
