Whipped Cream & Other Delights

by RadPanic

Rating: mature
Tags: Pinkie Pie, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Flitter, Porn, Flitter and Cloudchaser, Fetish
Length: 18607

Flitter tries to get some cream horns from Sugarcube Corner, after hours. Inflate-y shenanigans ensue.

Sometimes, love makes a pony do stupid things.

Right now, love for a cream-stuffed pastry has convinced Flitter that it's a good idea to slip into Sugarcube Corner after hours. Down in the bakery's basement, she'll find all the cream she could ever ask for—and then much, much more.

Regret can also make a pony do stupid things.

When Pinkie Pie decides to make amends for what happened to Flitter, she’ll accidentally create a huge problem for both of them, instead.

—————

No sex here, but utterly shameless inflation and weight-gain-related fetish fuel. Specifically:
1. Whipped Cream: liquid inflation; force-feeding; immobility.
2. Butterball: more liquid inflation; extreme fatpony; continued immobility; kiss inflation.
3. Love Potion No. 9: magic weight gain; magic weight loss; even more extreme fatpony; cartoony flattening, air inflation; kiss inflation.

Thanks to my pre-readers, Anon n.1, Thefurryrailfan, and MintyCandy.

Published 2016-09-20 22:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-02-04 19:42:45 UTC

2. Butterball

Five days later...

Flitter leaned down to turn the page in her book, nudging the paper with her nose. That motion set her whole body wobbling; she had to wait a few seconds before she could continue reading. She sighed, the sound echoing through the sparsely decorated cloud chamber. After all, any room large enough to contain Flitter in her current state would also be large enough to produce echoes.

Then the door opened with a creak; Flitter started, accidentally knocking her book to the floor. Sighing again, she shot her sternest glare at the intruder.

It was Cloudchaser, who answered that glare with, “Sorry.” She grabbed the book and flew it back up to its original resting place—the impromptu table formed from the top of Flitter’s belly fat.

Flitter’s glare softened a bit. Given her current state, it was difficult for her to look intimidating, anyway.

Ever since that incident at Sugarcube Corner, everything about Flitter had softened a bit—and then some. She had digested the whipped cream, thousands upon thousands of gallons worth, and converted every ounce into fat. Her face alone was twice as large as before, thanks to her double chin and thick, round cheeks. She could barely move her head, because of how her bloated shoulders swallowed her neck. They had almost swallowed her forelegs as well: the visible part of the limbs, about a quarter of their length, poked out of thick sleeves of fat that resembled tires on the side of her body. Her hindquarters were even thicker, with her haunches bloated into even larger tire shapes, into which her hind legs sank until just the hooftips were visible. Only her wings could still move freely—and at her current size, those feathery limbs were almost as useful as hummingbird wings on a prize-winning watermelon.

But the biggest change to Flitter—and for that matter, the biggest part of Flitter—was her belly. It was a round hill of pure blubber, lifting her off the ground three or four times her normal height, and bulging out even further horizontally, under its own weight. Her gut spilled over every side of the cloud mattress underneath—the cushion had been mashed together from several princess-sized mattresses, yet it still wasn’t enough to completely support Flitter’s round bulk.

At least she still had her mane styled, with her favorite pink bow tied behind her head. Flitter may have transformed against her will into a gigantic ball of flab—more blubber than pony—but she’d be damned if she didn’t try to make it look good.

“Anyway—” Cloudchaser’s voice snapped Flitter out of her contemplation, “—you’ve got a visitor. It’s...” She rubbed her forehooves as she hovered at Flitter’s eye level.

Flitter sighed. “Lemme guess. Pinkie Pie?”

“Yeah. She says she wants to apologize.” And now Cloudchaser was scratching the back of her head. “I think she sounds pretty sincere. But if you’re not ready, I can tell her to leave.”

“Nah, I’ll have to see her sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

Cloudchaser nodded and disappeared back out the door.

Wait a second, Flitter thought. This is a cloud house. How did Pinkie even get up here?

But before she could pursue that thought any further, Pinkie arrived. She pranced straight through the wall, giggling to herself as she did. But the smile shrank as she looked up—and up, and up, and up—at Flitter. “Um, hello, Flitter.”

“Hey.”

“I really messed up.” Now it was Pinkie’s turn rub her forehooves nervously. “So I wanted to say that I’m really, really sorry for what happened.”

A small, bitter part of Flitter’s mind wanted to hold onto her anger, but that grew increasingly difficult with every passing second. Pinkie was the very picture of contrition: her ears folded down, her normally unruly mane drooping slightly, and a faint blush darkening her already pink cheeks. Staying angry at Pinkie in this state was almost as unthinkable as kicking a puppy. “Okay,” Flitter said, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Pinkie leaped forward—eyes closed and forelegs widespread—and plastered herself against Flitter’s huge gut. The obese pegasus jiggled as Pinkie sank a few inches into her belly fat.

“What are you doing?” Flitter asked.

“I’m hugging you, silly!” Pinkie opened her eyes. “What, is it not working? Is my hug a dud? Oh, crud! Don’t worry—I’ll fix it, or my name is mud!”

“What.”

Pinkie stepped away from that enormous belly and somehow disappeared from Flitter’s sight. Less than a second later, pink hooves wrapped around Flitter’s head from behind, as Pinkie reappeared on top of the blubbery pegasus. She hugged tightly, nuzzling against Flitter’s chubby cheeks, and her own slight stomach pudge squished against Flitter’s enormous shoulder fat. Once Flitter got over her initial shock, she had to admit—

“There! Is that better?” Pinkie asked.

“Definitely,” Flitter replied, wobbling under Pinkie’s affection. “Nopony else hugs as good as you do, Pinkie.”

“Aaawwww...” Pinkie nuzzled her one more time before pulling away and standing up. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

Atop the blubbery hill that Flitter had become, there was enough space for a mare to trot back and forth comfortably. And that’s exactly what Pinkie did as she continued talking: “I was saying to myself the other day, Pinkie, saying sorry is nice, but sometimes that’s just not enough! Sometimes you gotta go out there and show you’re sorry, by fixing that mess you made!”

“Pinkie...”

“And you know what I said to that?” Pinkie paused on Flitter’s backside, then bounced up and down in place—heedless of how the pegasus wobbled like gelatin beneath her—as she continued chatting. “I said, Wow, Pinkie, you are so right! But what can I do? Normally I’d bake Flitter some kind of tasty treat, but I don’t think she’d like that right now. Should I—”

“Pinkie! ...Um, what are you doing?”

Pinkie stopped bouncing up and down, and instead pranced in place—still on Flitter’s backside. “Wow, I thought clouds were the most-est comfortable-est thing to walk on! But your tushy-tush feels even better! Wheee!” Her hooves sank into Flitter’s fat with every step, sending ripples across her blubbery body.

“Well, at least I’ve got that going for me.” Flitter chuckled. “But really, Pinkie, I don’t think I really need any help from you about this. Between me and the doctor and Cloudchaser, we’ve already worked out a diet and exercise program to get me back to normal.”

“Oooh!” Pinkie bounded back up to Flitter’s shoulder, then leaned over to look her in the face, her own head upside-down. “And how soon will you be flitting around again, just like normal?”

“Ummmm...”

“Oh. That long, huh?” Pinkie yanked her head back and sat down, her own plush rump squishing into Flitter’s still-jiggling mass. “And that’s what I thought I could help you with, Flitter! I can’t really help you budge this pudge, but for the next ummmm I can help you do everything else that needs doing!”

Flitter raised one eyebrow. “‘Everything else’?”

“You know, everything that you can’t do for yourself because you’re a big, round, squishy, cute ball of chubby-chub!” Pinkie began bouncing on her rump—Flitter had just stopped wobbling, and now Pinkie set her off again. “If you wanna listen to music, I can set up the gramophone for you! If you wanna read, I can go get the books for you, and even read ’em out loud if you want! If you need to wash up, I can roll you into the shower and scrub you down! And if you get hungry, I can... tell Cloudchaser and let her feed you.” She stopped bouncing. “So, what do you think?”

“Hmmm...” Flitter waited for her own wobbling to stop before answering. “Oh, what the hay. Sure, you can help me.”

“Yaaaaay!” Pinkie leaped into the air, and her landing set Flitter jiggling once more. “What should we do first, huh?”

“Well, I was reading a book when you walked in, so—”

“Books! Hooray for reading!” In the blink of an eye, Pinkie snatched up Flitter’s book from its resting place on her gut. She reclined, sinking slightly into Flitter’s fat as she read aloud: “‘Colt Mane swiped his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes, then slicked it back with his free hoof. Booby traps in a ventilation shaft? he thought. This Diabolik certainly lives up to his name...’”

—————

“Heave ho!”

With a mighty shove, Pinkie rolled Flitter those last few feet into the shower. It was a huge stall, wide and tall enough to comfortably fit four mares as tubby as Flitter.

“Boy,” Pinkie continued, “it sure is convenient that you and Cloudchaser added such a huge bathroom to your house!”

“Yeah, hehe. Convenient.” Flitter tried to shrug, but the movement was obscured by her fat still jiggling after being rolled in here.

Pinkie bounded over to the shower head—it was a detachable, hoof-held design with a long hose, and she held it in her surprisingly prehensile tail. She also grabbed a long-handled loofah and jumbo bottle of two-in-one shampoo-and-body-wash. With one kick, Pinkie turned the shower on, the water streaming out at the ideal temperature. “Time for brushy brushy!” she proclaimed—around the loofah handle in her mouth, somehow—as she bounced back to Flitter then clambered up, onto the obese pegasus’s back.

Standing tall atop that hill of flab, Pinkie started with Flitter’s voluminous shoulders. She wetted an area thoroughly with the shower head, then squirted just a bit of shampoo on, and then used the loofah to work up a heaping helping of suds and spread them around, and finally rinsed the area off again. “Lather, rinse, repeat,” the instructions on the shampoo bottle said, so that’s what Pinkie did.

Flitter was conflicted. She had fantasized before about taking a long, sensual shower with another mare—as often as not, an earth pony whose soft curves hid a surprising strength. Pinkie Pie certainly fit the bill, but nothing else about this shower really matched her fantasy. For one, Flitter was a big blob of blubber, not her usual, trim shape. And instead of whispering sweet nothings into Flitter’s ear, Pinkie hummed a nursery rhyme as loudly as possible. And instead of caressing hooves, Flitter just felt the scrub-scrub-scrub of the loofah—and the waves rippling across her fat body with every motion. Though Flitter had to admit that the scrubbing and jiggling did feel awfully nice in their own way.

And then, without any warning, Pinkie started on Flitter’s mane. This time, she did use her hooves—running them up and down through her hair, and scratching her scalp wonderfully. Pinkie lay prone, her slight stomach pudge pressing tantalizingly into Flitter. The pegasus could feel her own flab embracing Pinkie’s soft but comparatively tiny curves.

“I really like your mane!” Pinkie said as she brush-brush-brushed Flitter’s mane. “My friend Rarity would be so jealous. You know what she’d say if she could be here?” Then, affecting a surprisingly convincing posh accent: “Oh, darling, your mane is so wonderful, darling! It’s as soft as fine imported Saddle Arabian silk, darling! You simply must tell me how you got this wonderful texture, darling! Darling, darling, darling darling...”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the ticket,” Flitter said, responding more to the scalp massage than to the impersonation. Closing her eyes, she leaned into Pinkie’s hooves and sighed.

Soon—far too soon for Flitter—Pinkie finished washing her mane and moved on. Then she washed Flitter’s tail, which was almost as nice. After that, she scrubbed down the sides of Flitter’s enormous gut, or at least as far as she could reach without falling off. She even cleaned around Flitter’s legs—probing with the loofah into the crevices where Flitter’s torso flab met the sleeves of fat around each limb. In, out, in, out went the loofah—spreading suds and sensuously scritchy-scratching her sensitive skin. Flitter shivered with pleasure at Pinkie’s deft touch, the slight jiggles from her own movement lost among the larger wobbles from Pinkie’s loofah work.

Eventually Pinkie leaped down to floor and set down all her cleaning implements. The shower head landed on the tile at an odd angle, loosening a bit from the hose. “Okay!” Pinkie chirped. “Time to roll you over, so I can scrub the rest of you!”

“Alright...”

Flitter wriggled as best she could to roll over, while Pinkie planted all four hooves and shoved against that gigantic, blubbery stomach with her head. Flitter wobbled and jiggled and shook from the movement—and eventually, she rolled a few feet. Both ponies repeated the process—push, wobble, roll, push, wobble, roll—until Flitter was on her back, in the center of the shower.

Pinkie grabbed her cleaning supplies again; the shower head loosened a little more as she picked it up. Once more, she ascended to the peak of Mt. Flitterchub. Starting at the deep divot of Flitter’s navel, she resumed cleaning: rinse, wobble, shampoo, lather, jiggle, rinse, shake, repeat. As Pinkie turned the shower head this way and that, loosening the hose even further, water sprayed from the base as well. But if she noticed that she was getting just as soaked as Flitter, she certainly didn’t react to it. Her normally-floofy mane and tail straightened as they grew wetter, gradually hanging lower and lower.

Pinkie started humming as she worked—quietly and tunelessly at first, but as her voice grew in volume, a distinct rhythm emerged as well. Then she began stamping her hooves and occasionally bouncing, the meaty thump of hooves against jiggly flab marking time for her song. And then she started singing:

“With a brush, brush, brush,
and a scrub, scrub, scrub,
we’re gonna wash, wash, wash,
all your chub, chub, chub!”

As she continued singing, Pinkie danced atop the wobbling mass of Flitter’s gut, swaying the shower head back and forth to form an impromptu indoor rainstorm. The shower head loosened even further, ensuring even more water sprayed onto Pinkie. Her mane was completely straight now, and her head-bobbing whipped it back and forth, flinging droplets in every direction.

Flitter’s eyes widened and her heart beat faster at the sight of Pinkie dancing atop her belly. The way Pinkie shook herself—the slight jiggle to her every movement—the water running down her curvy body—how surprisingly good she looked with a straight mane... This was a side of the party pony that Flitter had never seen before, and it lit a spark inside her even hotter than the shower water.

“For some fun, fun, fun,
in the tub, tub, tub,
it’s just a brush, brush, brush,
and a scrub, scrub, scrub!”

“Hey... hey Pinkie?”

“Yeeeees?” Pinkie spun to face Flitter, the motion loosening the shower head just a little bit more.

Flitter took a deep breath. “Has anypony ever told you... with your mane straight like that, you look—”

A sudden splash interrupted her. The shower head had unscrewed so far that the water pressure was enough to push it all the way off the hose. “Whoa!” Pinkie cried as the shower head flew into the air, while the hose slipped from her tail’s grasp, whipping back and forth as it sprayed a jet of water. The shower head ricocheted off the shower wall—then the floor—then a glancing bounce off Flitter’s gut to send it almost straight up—and finally it zinged off the ceiling and bonked Pinkie’s noggin with a loud conk!

Pinkie stumbled backwards, her eyes spinning in opposite directions. “Ooooooo... pretty stars...” she sing-songed. Her back leg stepped in Flitter’s belly button, sinking in just past the hoof. “Whoooooooo!” Pinkie cried as she lost her balance and fell on her rump. And, as luck would have it, she landed right on the shower hose—its wet length sliding easily between her plump cheeks. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, somehow producing a sound remarkably like a ringing bell. Once her head cleared, Pinkie looked down at her belly—already bulging with water from the shower hose, and nearing the size of a beach ball.

“Uh, Pinkie?” Flitter felt the first flurries of worry somewhere in her massive gut.

“Yippee!” Pinkie smiled as she prodded her paunch, filling larger under her hooves. “Look at me, Flitter! Now it’s my turn to be big and round!”

“Um...”

“We can be balloon buddies!”

Pinkie bounced up and down on her rump, laughing as her bloated gut sloshed from the motion. The pink belly pushed her hind legs apart as it inflated—and now her backside was thickening as well, her rump and haunches rounding out as water rushed into them. As the pink stomach sidled up against the inside of her legs and haunches, every pleasured hoofy-kick was another jiggle across that swelling surface. Meanwhile, Flitter’s exponentially larger stomach rippled from Pinkie’s motion, wobbling harder with every passing second; with every bounce, Pinkie inflated larger and sank deeper into Flitter’s flab.

“Oooh, oooh!” Pinkie continued. “You know what would be even better? We can be BBFFs!”

“...Do I even want to know?”

As she answered, Pinkie punctuated each word by squeezing her belly between her forelegs: “Best...” Squish. “Balloon...” Squish. “Friends...” Squish. “Forever!”

Her hooves sank deep into that wobbly mass—already large enough that another Pinkie could have fit inside, and swelling still larger under her touch. Even as her hind legs splayed further, her gut squished around the sides of her haunches, which themselves filled larger than beach balls. Pinkie lifted into the air as her rump inflated with water, while the rest of her movement grew more sluggish—water was filling her whole torso, and her hind legs were visibly thicker.

“Uh, Pinkie?” Flitter called up to the pink water balloon pressing down on her own gut. “Don’t you think that’s enough? You still have to finish washing me, remember?”

Pinkie perked up. “Oh. Right!” She tried to grab the hose, but found her belly blocking the way. No matter how far she tried to reach, how hard she squished against her bloating stomach, she could barely get even halfway around that wobbly, water-filled mass. Her belly was so large, it was resting against Flitter now—it would have lifted Pinkie off the ground if she tried to stand on all four hooves. But standing was out of the question anyway, considering how her hind legs were stiffening, sticking straight out as more water inflated them.

Pinkie gave up on reaching around her gut and stuck her right forearm straight down instead, but this was no more successful. Thanks to her swelling torso and ballooning haunches, her leg could only reach to the edge of her cutie mark—which had stretched enough that the balloons were quickly approaching life-size. “Errrgh! Urrff!” Pinkie puffed her cheeks out as she strained harder, stretched farther. However, all she could do was squish her hoof deeper into her backside, her haunch jiggling beneath her touch as it ballooned larger and larger. Then—skoosh!—her left foreleg filled with water and stuck straight out. Pinkie glanced between that inflated limb and her right foreleg, still trying in vain to reach around her enormous backside. “Uh-oooooh!” she said, in a sing-song tone that didn’t sound particularly concerned. With another skoosh! her right foreleg stuck straight out as it swelled to the same size.

“Sorry, Flitter!” Pinkie said with a smile. “I’m too full to move any of my legs! Looks like I’m stuck!”

Flitter sighed.

“How big do you think I’ll get before somepony shuts the water off? Yaaaaay!” Pinkie waggled her thickened forelegs, whose bases were sinking into her water-swollen shoulders. Her hind legs were already halfway swallowed by her ballooning haunches. And at the angle they stuck out, they no longer supported Pinkie’s sitting up. So when she waggled her forelegs, and the small pool’s worth of water sloshed back and forth inside her, that was enough to unbalance her. Pinkie slowly rolled forward, her belly pressing directly against Flitter’s more massive one. Perched atop her bloated gut, Pinkie was twice her old height, and still ballooning larger. Then she stopped rolling forward, but the liquid sloshing inside her had too much forward momentum—and there were just enough wet suds to lubricate this patch of Flitter’s gut. The pink water balloon slid down the curve of the lilac blob.

Words failed Flitter as Pinkie’s face rushed towards her: “Uuuhhhhhhh...”

Pinkie, meanwhile, shouted “Wheeeeeeeeeeee—Ooomph!”

“Uuumph!”

The ponies’ faces collided—their lips locking together, both their mouths open.

Pinkie laughed. Then her cheeks swelled—larger than apples, then larger than softballs—in a matter of seconds. Flitter’s eyes widened as she whimpered. Water rushed from Pinkie’s mouth into Flitter’s, filling her cheeks until she began gulping it down. “Ulp! Ulp! Ulp! Ulp!” For the second time that week, Flitter felt her stomach fill completely—and then begin to swell, as the flood of liquid persisted.

Pinkie, meanwhile, was nowhere near finished. There was twice as much water pumping into her rump as there was pouring out her mouth, so she continued to inflate, if slower than before. She giggled again and waggled all four of her swollen legs—sinking further into her sides—her round body wobbling and rubbing against Flitter from the motion. Pinkie’s neck was inflating as well and beginning to merge with her swollen shoulders, already brushing against her cheeks and the base of her jaw.

Flitter had no idea what to think of this development. On the one hoof, kissing Pinkie was surprisingly nice, even under the circumstances—her lips incredibly warm and soft against Flitter’s own. On the other hoof, Flitter didn’t appreciate being inflated again. It was bad enough being a blubbery behemoth, but swelling with gallon upon gallon of water underneath her layers of fat? That was just insulting.

But, on the other other hoof, growing larger felt better than she ever expected. She’d already added several feet to her diameter, stretching to contain the water rushing down her throat. But now there was so much more of her to stretch—not just her skin and muscle, but her feet-thick layers of adipose as well. Every inch of that thickness grew more and more sensitive the further she bloated. As more water pumped into Flitter, inflating her to the height of six normal mares, ripples of pleasure from every cubic inch of her body lapped against her brain.

Perched atop her, Pinkie grew rounder by the second. Her haunches were merging with her torso; her cutie marks began to look more like weather balloons than party balloons. Her legs were three-quarters sunk into her haunches and shoulders, still occasionally wiggling for the few inches of freedom they had. Pinkie’s head was already swallowed a few inches by what had once been her neck, and her bloating torso squashed her swollen cheeks against her face.

Just as Flitter inflated to half the volume of the room—twice her size from before this shower mishap—the flow from the hose sputtered and came to a stop. Pinkie ceased inflating and, a second later, began deflating, as the liquid continued rushing from her mouth. Flitter, meanwhile, recognized what had happened and would have sighed with relief, if her mouth were free.

Her house’s water supply was completely exhausted. The end of this ordeal was in sight.

—————

Cloudchaser grit her teeth and pushed herself to fly faster, turn tighter. As she cycled through the air, her wake cut the surface of the Ponyville Reservoir.

It took every able-bodied pegasus in Ponyville, working together, to create a waterspout to carry Cloudsdale’s water supply. Creating a smaller spout, to carry a week’s worth of water for a single cloud home, was much simpler. A single pegasus could do it, if she were as fit as Cloudchaser.

Of course, Cloudchaser normally didn’t have to get the water alone. Normally, Flitter was there to help.

Cloudchaser muttered to herself as she completed another circuit, and the first droplets of water rose into the vortex she’d created. She made a few dozen more circuits to get a great liquid mass airborne, then two more circuits for good measure, then pulled away. It wasn’t the prettiest waterspout she’d ever made, but it got the job done. As the water arced through the air and landed directly in the tank’s refill spout, Cloudchaser’s chest swelled with pride. “Aw, yeah. I still got it.”

—————

A strange gurgling sound came from the shower pipes and the hose. Flitter groaned. That’s right, she thought. Today’s when we refill our water. Wonderful.

Once more, water rushed up the hose and straight into Pinkie’s enormous backside, and the pink balloon immediately went to work regaining the volume she had lost. This time, the water was cold, having come straight from the reservoir. Pinkie shivered at the sensation, spreading ripples across her entire body and even shaking Flitter beneath her.

Flitter responded unconsciously by twitching her own legs—and found them immobilized, even more so than before. A few minutes ago, her limbs were surrounded by thick sleeves of flab; now, her limbs were filled with water, swollen to twice their normal width, and slowly sinking deeper into those thick sleeves of flab. Something similar happened just behind Flitter’s shoulder blades: water rushed into her wings, which flared to the side involuntarily as they filled. Their motion shook the great blubber-coated water balloon of her body, as she continued inflating even larger.

The ripples of pleasure to Flitter’s brain had become proper waves now, slowly but steadily growing more intense as her skin and fat stretched further to contain the countless gallons rushing into her. She was more water than fat by now, and far, far more blob than pegasus, and becoming more so by the second.

Pinkie trailed behind in sheer size, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Her diameter was over four times her old height, approaching five times; she inflated larger than Flitter had been before this shower. Her legs sank further and further, up to the hooves now, into her ballooning sides. Her swollen shoulders pressed her ears flat against her scalp and squished her bloated cheeks even harder, as her head also sank deeper into her round body. Pinkie’s eyes were scrunched shut as her inflating torso slowly enveloped her—but she hummed a upbeat tune, her muffled voice echoing through her water-filled body as it swelled ever larger. Another sound soon joined her humming: the soft brush-and-squeak of her backside against the cloud above, as her own inflation and Flitter’s growth below pushed her up to the ceiling.

Flitter’s bloating body sloshed even more, signaling the continued growth of her wings. A few seconds later, her primary feathers poked out from underneath her—each swollen to the width of a normal mare, and growing lengthwise just a bit faster than her torso was expanding. While her inflating wings spread across the floor, her barrel spread upward and outward, swallowing her legs even further. Now only the tips of her thickened hooves protruded, as the flow of water pumped Flitter to nine times the height of a normal pony, and larger still.

Pinkie’s backside pressed harder and tighter against the ceiling—she was well and truly stuck between it and Flitter now. With no room to expand above or below, and water still pumping into her rear faster than it could exit her mouth, Pinkie spread out to the sides even more than before. With a slosh and a gurgle, her hooftips disappeared into her inflating torso—leaving Pinkie just a balloon with a head, less than haflway poking out her front.

Weighed down by her ever-increasing mass, with all of her limbs too inflated to move, Flitter could do nothing but think—yet even that proved more and more difficult with every gallon that pumped into her. With the relentless flow of water filling her larger and larger, her skin and fat sang with the pleasure of elongating further and further. And cold reservoir water—having worked its way through the Pinkie balloon—poured, gallon after gallon, into Flitter, heightening her stretch-induced sensitivity even more. Every touch felt so wonderful: her inflating feathers brushing against her bloated torso and poking the walls; her back squishing against the floor tiles as she spread ever wider; her legs, completely enveloped, as her hooves finally sank into her torso. And, of course, there was Pinkie. As Flitter inflated ever larger, her body squeezed around Pinkie’s—and every inch of Flitter that embraced the smaller mare, sent escalating waves of pleasure straight to her brain.

So, under that flood of stimulation, the only thing Flitter managed to think was: Pinkie would probably think of this as a hug... I gotta admit... this is a really nice hug.

Then, Flitter’s right side brushed against the wall, and she simply lost herself in the haze of pleasure—face flushing, eyes rolling back in her head. Seconds later, her rump and her bloated shoulders contacted the other two walls, while her left side touched the massive shower curtain. More water pumped into her, and she pressed harder against the three walls, spreading over their surface as she filled larger and larger. The walls pushed back against her, stimulating Flitter even further, prompting her to moan into Pinkie’s mouth. Constrained on three sides, and partly stuck beneath Pinkie, most of Flitter’s gargantuan body spread up as she continued inflating—until a mere minute later, when her belly squished into the ceiling. Flitter moaned again as the water kept flowing. Her flab crept around the shower pipe, squished into the corners, squeezed tighter and tighter into every cubic inch of space around Pinkie’s ballooned body, and pushed the shower curtain several feet outward.

This shower stall was large enough to comfortably contain fifty adult ponies—twice or three times that, with pegasi hovering in the air—and now Flitter, with help from Pinkie Pie, had completely filled it.

As the pressure increased on nearly every side, and the shower curtain caressed her bulging left side, Flitter moaned once more, louder still. Then she felt something give as her rear pressed into it—the shower handle, finally moving back to the Off position.

The water stopped, and all was still for a few seconds. Then Pinkie—a squashed sphere with just the tip of her muzzle poking out, only small in comparison to Flitter—let out a watery, resigned groan as she once more began deflating. She ran backwards through her growth: First her head emerged, then her hooves. As her legs peeked halfway out of her receding torso, they too began shrinking to their normal size. Her body regained definition—distinct haunches, shoulders, and belly emerging from the ball of her torso.

Of course, every gallon that Pinkie lost was another that Flitter gained. As the one shrank, the other bloated around her, holding her tighter and tighter—until the pegasus belly pushed Pinkie away from Flitter’s face, finally breaking their accidental kiss and ending Flitter’s inflation. Pinkie, for her part, was almost back to her normal size—the little bit of remaining water gave her a sloshy belly bulge. But she didn’t exactly have space to appreciate it, since she was completely surrounded by Flitter’s mass, which pinned her to the wall, upside down.

“Woooweeeee!” Pinkie proclaimed. “That was fun! I wanna do it again!”

Flitter’s only response was a vaguely satisfied moan.

“Wait a second...” The smile fell from Pinkie’s face as she glanced around herself, and suddenly remembered why she was completely surrounded by Flitter-colored flab. “Aw darn it. I really messed up again, didn’t I?”

Flitter moaned again.

“I’m sorry, Flitter!” Pinkie wriggled towards the shower exit, slithering between Flitter’s mass and the wall. “But don’t you worry. Auntie Pinkie will get this fixed in a jiffy!”

—————

“Hey, Flitter! Dinnertime!” Cloudchaser waltzed into the jumbo-sized annex, with her sister’s dinner balanced on her back. Finding the room completely empty, she shrugged, set the tray down, then walked over to the only other room where Flitter could plausibly be.

There was no door over the giant bathroom’s entrance, so Cloudchaser paused outside and called, “Knock, knock! Flitter, are you decent?”

The only answer was a rhythmic sloshing, and water splashing against tile.

Cloudchaser gave another shrug and entered. “Flitter, I got your... din... ner...” Cloudchaser’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

The source of the sloshing was Flitter—who was twice as big as the last time Cloudchaser saw her, and wobbling rhythmically as Pinkie Pie leaped up and down on her back. Every time Pinkie landed, a few gallons of water poured out Flitter’s mouth, down the shower drain.

“Wheeeee!” Pinkie shouted, flipping at the top of her bounce. “Only a couple thousand more to go!”

Slowly, silently, Cloudchaser backed away.

Author's Note

Merry Christmas, ya loonies.

3. Love Potion No. 9

“And push!” Cloudchaser called.

She and Pinkie Pie both shoved against Flitter’s side, their heads and shoulders sinking deep into that soft, lilac flab before they felt resistance. Soon enough, the bulky pegasus rolled a few feet further into her oversized bedroom.

Flitter came to a stop, rolling onto her back. While her mountainous belly jiggled like gelatin above, her fat face bore a distinctly neutral expression. Flitter was thankful to be this size once again, but it was thankfulness under duress. All the water she had sucked down during that little shower mishap was now gone. Once more, Flitter was merely a four-pony-tall tub of blubber. And upon further thought, just how ridiculous was that? It seemed a perverse parody of those friendship lessons Twilight Sparkle was always talking about: “No matter how big and round you are, the universe can always conspire to inflate you even larger. So be thankful that hasn’t happened yet.”

While Flitter contemplated, Pinkie moved into position to roll the obese pegasus again, her forehooves squishing several inches into that huge stomach. “Ready!” she called up to Cloudchaser.

“Wait, not yet.” Cloudchaser zipped over the hill of Flitter’s gut and grabbed the plus-sized cloud mattress. “Gotta position her bed just right, so she’ll be right-side-up when we roll her onto it.”

“Okey dokey,” Pinkie said. While waiting, she poked and prodded at Flitter, her eyes following as the huge, globular stomach shook at the slightest touch.

“Hrrrrmmmm…” Flitter fought to keep her neutral expression as Pinkie’s hoof squished into her side, every touch rippling through her enormous body—even her fat cheeks shaking slightly.

“Alright, it’s in place,” Cloudchaser said. She flew back into position, level with Flitter’s center of mass—hovering above Pinkie—and braced her shoulder against that hill of blubber. “Ready… and push!”

After a few seconds of jiggling and wobbling, Flitter rolled a little further. Then the process repeated several more times—until she was upright again and lying across her mattress, with her belly spilling over all four side.

As Flitter bobbed up and down atop her huge stomach’s continued shaking, Cloudchaser flew up with a tray in her forehooves. “And now that that’s out of the way—time for dinner!” she said, depositing the tray on the shelf of Flitter’s gut.

Though it was a simple meal—a salad with a light vinaigrette dressing, and a side of raw celery and carrots—Flitter finally allowed herself to smile. “Thanks,” she said, then dug in.

Cloudchaser nodded, then landed at a small table nearby and began eating her own meal, scarcely larger than her sister’s.

“Is it that late already?” Pinkie asked, glancing between the two sisters. “Wow, time sure flies when you’re having fun! I’d better go home and get something myself.” As she walked towards the door, she added, “But don’t you worry, Flitter! I’ll be back as soon as—”

“Actually,” Cloudchaser interrupted, “I think it would be best if you didn’t come back.”

“Huh?” Pinkie froze in the doorway.

“What?” Flitter jerked up, pulling her face out of her salad bowl—the sudden motion jiggling the rest of her body.

“After what happened at Sugarcube Corner,” Cloudchaser said, “and then what happened right here in the shower—”

“That was an accident,” Flitter cut in. “Could’ve happened to anypony.”

“Either way,” Cloudchaser said, “weird things keep happening when you and Pinkie are together. So if you ever want to get back in shape, Pinkie shouldn’t be around to cause any more accidents.”

Pinkie sighed, her ears flopping back and her head lowering. “Okay…”

“No, that’s not okay,” Flitter said. “Pinkie, I really enjoyed having you over today. I mean, except for what happened in the shower, of course. And I know you didn’t do that intentionally, and since I know how much all this means to you… I want to give you another chance.”

“Really?” Pinkie perked up. “Thank you!” She bounced over to Flitter and once more threw herself against that gut with her forelegs spread—another hug that barely encompassed a fraction of Flitter’s circumference. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t you worry!” Flitter wobbled from the force of the hug, as Pinkie squished several inches into her huge stomach.

Cloudchaser, meanwhile, rolled her eyes. “Fine, if that’s what you want,” she said before taking another bite of her salad. “But I still think you’re making a big mistake…”

“Oh!” Pinkie pulled a few inches away from Flitter’s gut, though her forelegs still grasped it firmly. “Oh oh oh oh oh!” Shaking with excitement, Pinkie rocked Flitter’s belly—sloshing and rippling every inch of the oversized pegasus.

“Whoaaa…” Flitter once more found herself riding up and down atop her stomach’s rippling. The dinner tray bounced as well—fortunately, Flitter had already eaten everything—before coming unbalanced and clattering to the floor.

“I am just about to be brilliant!” Pinkie proclaimed, then abruptly stopped shaking Flitter. “As soon as I get something to eat.”

Then she zipped out of the room, leaving just a cloud of smoke shaped like her, and a still-wobbling Flitter in her wake.

—————

One hour later…

“Ding dong!” Pinkie called, trotting once again straight through the wall, into Flitter’s jumbo-sized room. Flitter, reading at that moment, started at the sound—which set her belly to jiggling again, but this time, she caught her book before it could slide off.

“Guess what?” Pinkie asked. “I found a way to get you back to your old size right now! You see, when Cloudchaser said you were making a big mistake, that made me think of stakes—which got me thinking about camping, and then campfires, and then my two-hundred-fifty-third favorite song, ‘Disco Inferno’, and then—”

“Pinkie…” Flitter cut in.

“…and of course,” Pinkie continued unabated, “the area of a circle is πr2, which reminded me…”

“Pinkie, that’s fascinating and all—”

“…if there are thirteen in a baker’s dozen, then how many in a caker’s dozen? And obviously the answer is…”

“—but what does it have to do with—”

“…which rhymes with look, and took, and brook, and…”

“—helping me slim down?”

Pinkie reared back and kicked her forehooves in the air as she concluded: “…which reminded me there might be an answer in one of Twilight’s books!”

Flitter shook her head. “Twilight’s books?” Her eyes widened. “You mean, some kind of magic spell?”

“Yup!” Pinkie returned to all four hooves and started walking around the thick pegasus. “So I went to Twilight’s library to find a spell to help you chase away that chub.” She poked Flitter as she walked, her hoof squishing deep into that soft stomach—then did it over and over as she continued, “Burn off that blubber. Freeze off that flab. Avert that adipose!”

Flitter rolled her eyes, her whole body wobbling as Pinkie’s repeated prodding traced her impressive circumference.

“And I found iiiiiiiiit!” Pinkie sing-songed, now leaning into Flitter’s belly fat as she continued circling.

“Well, that’s…” Flitter gulped. “I dunno how I feel about that. Since… Um, Pinkie, what are you doing?”

“Mmmm, mmmmm…” With her eyes closed and a big smile on her face, Pinkie outright nuzzled Flitter’s bloated girth, her cheeks rubbing up and down that soft belly fat. “I’m giving your chub a goodbye rub!” she said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Um, okay?” A slight blush came to Flitter’s chubby cheeks.

Something whooshed through the air, and suddenly Pinkie was on top of Flitter, rolling back and forth across her extra-wide rear. “After all…” she continued, grabbing as much of Flitter’s haunch fat as she could with her forelegs, “…since you’re gonna be skinny again real soon, I gotta get my cuddle on now, while the cuddlin’s good.” She squeezed and laid her head down on the resulting pillow of pegasus chub. “Ahhhhhhhhh…”

“Ha! Makes sense, I guess.” Then Flitter smirked. “Wait… are you implying that I wasn’t a good cuddler before? You wound me, Pinkie!”

Pinkie just giggled into Flitter’s fat, before rolling onto her own back. “Of course not—that’d be ridiculous! We never cuddled when you were skinny.”

Pinkie kicked all four hooves in the air, and Flitter felt it clearly: every twitch of the smaller pony’s shoulders and haunches sent small waves rippling through the huge pegasus. Even Flitter’s face jiggled a bit, her blush growing brighter. Before she could second-guess herself, she said, “Then maybe we should give it a try, as soon as I’ve slimmed down to normal?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Flitter’s eyes widened, and her face burned even brighter. “Umm…”

“Sure!” Pinkie chirped. “Sounds fun! Speaking of which, I’ve been keeping you waiting, haven’t I?” She rose to her hooves and pranced over the expanse of Flitter’s back, towards her front. “You must be raring to go, right?”

“Well, actually…” Flitter sighed. “I’m not so sure about using unicorn magic to fix this problem.”

“Huh?” Pinkie came to a stop, atop Flitter’s thick withers.

“It’s just… I know Twilight’s really nice, and I’m sure she’s a great magician. But unicorn magic is so unpredictable. How can we be sure there won’t be some freaky side effect because—I don’t know—the spell needs her to think about blue mice, and she thinks about pink elephants instead?”

“Well, Twilight’s one of my best friends, and I trust her!” Pinkie jumped in place, bouncing atop Flitter’s shoulders as she continued, “She’s the one who put the cloudwalking spell on me, so I could come visit you here. And look how well that turned out!”

Flitter wobbled all over once again, shaken by Pinkie’s continued bouncing. “Still, I know that dieting and exercise will get me back to normal, eventually. But with magic, I just don’t—”

“Pleeeeeeeeeease?” Her hind legs perched on Flitter’s withers, Pinkie leaned over and hung her head down to look Flitter right in the eyes. She grabbed Flitter’s face—twice as wide as normal, thanks to those pudgy cheeks, but Pinkie had no trouble embracing them. They shook gently in Pinkie’s grip, as she continued, “Please please please please?”

“I really don’t—”

“Pretty pretty please, with oat sprinkles on top?”

Pinkie’s face was difficult to say “No” to, and grew moreso with every passing second. Flitter’s cheeks grew warmer as those pink hooves squished into them. “But—”

“Twilight and I double-checked the spell to make sure it works right! I Pinkie Promise there won’t be any weird side effects for you. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” With one hoof, Pinkie mimed along with the words of her promise—and Flitter’s cheek wobbled slightly as that hoof pulled away.

Flitter sighed. Something about Pinkie’s words didn’t seem right, but she couldn’t put her hoof on it. “Fine…”

“Yippee!”

“Go get Twilight and have her cast that spell on me.”

“Oh, no need for that.” Pinkie leaped and spun in midair, landing on the shelf of Flitter’s gut. Her landing wobbled the obese pegasus, and she continued, “Twilight already cast the spell on me. You just need to set it off, then you’ll be skinny again, just like that!” Pinkie punctuated that with another slap against the belly below.

“Okay then. How do I set the spell off?”

“We kiss!”

Flitter’s eyes widened. “What?”

Pinkie only answer was to purse her lips, close her eyes, and grab Flitter’s cheeks once again.

“Oh,” Flitter said, a smile spreading across her chubby face. Closing her eyes as well, she leaned forward to meet Pinkie’s lips.

It was not an elegant kiss. Their muzzles mashed together, Flitter’s cheeks wobbling at the impact. But neither mare pulled away; in fact, Pinkie squeezed with her hooves and pulled Flitter’s face even tighter against her own. Flitter just moaned into Pinkie’s lips. They were softer than she remembered, and still pleasantly warm.

As Pinkie giggled, a slight tingle built up in Flitter’s lips, then quickly spread. It jolted along her spine, traveled down to her hooftips, and rippled through the fat of her huge flanks and massive belly. When the electricity had covered every square inch of Flitter’s colossal body, it changed to the sensation of a physical force—soft and gentle, like a bathrobe or blanket large enough to wrap snugly around all of her. And then it grew more snug—and then, outright tight.

Flitter’s eyes snapped open, as the pressure grew and grew. A magical aura—in beautiful, sparkling magenta—was wrapped all around her, and it squeezed. It squished against the mountain of fat that was her belly; it tightened around the enormous globes of her rump; it even constricted the thick sleeves of chub around her legs. Just as Flitter began to fear that it might squeeze all the air out of her lungs, the pressure stabilized. Then, every inch of her mammoth, chubby body jiggled and shifted.

Flitter began to shrink. The spell was working.

But Flitter wasn’t the only one affected by the spell. The magic aura lifted Pinkie a few inches into the air, without pulling her away from Flitter’s lips. Her pudgy belly shook slightly at the movement. Pinkie had always been a bit on the plump side: a constant diet of desserts ensured that she had a little extra padding on her frame and a little extra bounce in her step. But now she had a little bit more of each. Her belly grew thicker and rounder—an extra inch, and then another—while her backside began to widen.

The spell was magically removing the fat from Flitter—by transferring it to Pinkie.

—————

Half an hour ago…

“Uuuugh…” Pinkie slammed her face into the open book before her, the thunk echoing between the crystal walls. “Why is this so hard to find?”

She and Twilight Sparkle were seated in Twilight’s castle library. Great stacks of magic books crowded around them both—the resources for Pinkie’s impromptu research project.

Twilight Sparkle looked up from the volume she had been studying and gave her friend a reassuring pat on the withers. “Body modification magic is difficult to begin with. But if the spell you’re looking is out there, we’ll find it.”

“But there’s a huge demand for a spell like this, isn’t there? I mean, I don’t care that much about being skinny, but a lot of other mares do, right?”

“Yes. Other mares.”

“So you’d think somepony would have found a magic spell by now to make a pony thinner! What do we have instead?” Pinkie held up one book. “‘Barnabus’s Bloating Charm’!” She tossed that book away and grabbed another. “‘Knotworthy’s Horn of Plenty’!” Pinkie grabbed book after book as she continued reading off spell names. “‘Elastic Reality’s Balloonatic Blast’. ‘Very Berry’s Blueberry Spectacular’. ‘Alley Oop’s Helium Helper’. ‘Splat Bucket’s Better Living Through Cakeology’. ‘Wright-Horse’s Royal Jelly’. ‘Happy Full’!”

“Well, it’s not just magic.” Twilight held up the book she had been reading. “It’s in various fields of science, too: the cultivation of Poison Bloat; Twintails and Minty Candy’s research on P-235 and P-radiation; Blur Blot’s paper on atavism of winter weight in pegasi…”

“Darn it!” Pinkie threw her forelegs up, flinging every book in her grasp straight into the air. Twilight’s magic caught them before they could crash, then neatly sorted them with the stacks of already-read books.

“Still, now that you mention it,” Twilight continued, furrowing her brows, “that is pretty odd. So many ways to inflate or fatten ponies, but none to quickly make them thin again. Either there’s been some kind of systematic bias in our centuries of magical and scientific research—or there’s a mysterious, overarching cosmic force that wants ponies to be huge and round…”

“Aha!” Pinkie proclaimed, waving another book in the air. “I think I found it! See, see?”

Twilight glanced over the indicated page. “Pinkie, I don’t think this is going to work…”

—————

Flitter had lost about a few dozen pounds, barely a drop in the vast ocean of her body fat. But those same pounds had a significant effect on Pinkie. Her belly bulged out, like she had just eaten a particularly large meal, and it continued swelling farther. The balloons on her cutie mark jiggled, as pound after pound materialized on her haunches and rump. Pinkie was no longer plump; she was distinctly chubby and quickly approaching fat.

Pinkie giggled into Flitter’s mouth, as the magic spell continued packing the pounds on. She kicked her hind legs in pleasure—her backside bouncing atop, as it also grew wider and rounder. Her individual rump cheeks squished together in their continued expansion, jiggling all the while. Likewise, Pinkie’s cheeks puffed out with the first deposits of pudge, and even her shoulders and chest began softening with flab. Still, it was her belly that grew the most; it looked like Pinkie had just eaten an entire Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness. That gut squished against the insides of her legs as it kept expanding, wobbling with every pleasured kick.

“Hhmmmmm…” Flitter moaned in contentment, as she felt the magic work all over her humongous body. For the past few days, her absurd weight had felt like being buried inside a mountain of thick blankets—and now, somepony was peeling away those blankets, one by one. She didn’t feel much different, yet, but the knowledge of her coming freedom was sweeter than the cream that had gotten Flitter into this mess in the first place.

Meanwhile, the hooves’ grip on Flitter’s face shifted slightly. Pinkie’s thickening chest flab was jostling her shoulders with its growth—and in turn her swelling, marshmallow-like shoulders tried to press her forearms out to the side. But those forelegs pressed back, both from Pinkie’s squeezing to keep her hold on Flitter, and from her limbs’ own growth, as they swelled with inch after inch of soft fat. Her hind legs and haunches thickened as well, with her fat pasterns squishing into the sides of her belly, even when her legs were still. Said belly bloated to twice Pinkie’s usual width, and then even wider; it would have hung nearly to the ground if she were standing on her hooves.

Flitter’s hooves, meanwhile, wiggled in the air from excitement, sending ripples through her huge body. Slowly, very slowly, she was regaining her mobility: her shoulders and haunches shrank, releasing her legs from their embrace, inch after inch. But those limbs were still engulfed nearly to the fetlocks; Flitter still had plenty of weight to lose.

Pinkie, though still dwarfed by Flitter’s immensity, was huge in her own right—and growing moreso by the second. Her tail waved in the air above an enormous rump, each cheek as wide as a normal pony and sagging slightly under its own weight. Below that, her stomach bulged between her legs, squishing around her limbs farther and farther. That belly was large enough to serve as Pinkie’s bed, and would have lifted all her hooves off the floor if she weren’t suspended in the air by magic. Even in this position, it pressed against Flitter’s gut below as it grew even fatter.

Flitter’s fat cheeks wobbled in Pinkie’s wavering hooves. Pinkie’s shoulders bloated larger and rounder, while her swelling chest fat squished outward from between them—both pressing harder against Pinkie’s forelegs with every passing second. She kept her grip on Flitter, somehow, but her hind legs were already losing their mobility. Her endlessly expanding gut pushed her back hooves up and out, and her thick haunches began to swallow her legs as they fattened even further. Her cutie marks stretched along with those haunches—they were nearly the size of real party balloons. Pinkie’s tail was already miniscule atop her growing rump: each individual cheek had the mass of an adult pony, and still they bloated even bigger.

Underneath, Pinkie’s belly pressed further into Flitter’s, squishing across those soft, lilac curves as she grew. Flitter’s gut only pressed back half-heartedly, instead shrinking in the face of the pink expansion. As she felt Pinkie spread—soft and warm—across her own retreating gut, Flitter couldn’t help but laugh into Pinkie’s lips.

Pinkie gave a short, happy moan in response, sending small vibrations through her own fat cheeks, already the size of melons and still thickening further. Her neck swelled, likewise—a collar of fat that had already formed a second chin and was now working on a third. It squished against the inches and inches of fat over her chest, which led down seamlessly to the even thicker flab of her stomach. That belly already was already packing as much fat as dozens upon dozens of MMMMs; it was twice Pinkie’s normal height and twice again as wide, and still that oversized pink marshmallow grew even more massive.

Flitter’s cheeks shrank a few inches more—and Pinkie’s forehooves lost their grip. Those pink legs snapped away and pointed nearly straight out from Pinkie’s sides. “Hmmhmmm…” She murmured as she tried to reach forward again, but her forelegs only flexed a few inches. Thick sleeves of fat padded her limbs—growing thicker by the second—while the bases were swallowed by the bloated doughnut shapes that had been her shoulders. Pinkie’s hooves already couldn’t reach the floor, and soon enough they wouldn’t be able to reach anything.

With Pinkie’s forelegs away from her face, Flitter could finally get a better look at Pinkie. But only a slightly better look—from this close, only a small fraction of Pinkie’s bulk could possibly be seen.

Oh, Flitter thought, as she finally understood just what this magic spell was doing. So that’s what Pinkie meant when she said there wouldn’t be any weird side effects for me.

Both bellies continued squishing together. Even as the magic burned away Flitter’s fat, Pinkie gained weight fast enough to make up the difference and fill the empty space—more than fast enough, in fact. Pinkie was somehow growing more quickly than Flitter could shrink.

Pinkie Pie’s belly brushed against the reinforced cloud below—then, as it grew even further, it fully rested on the floor and spread outward. For a brief moment, both ponies were the same size. And that was rather disconcerting, since Flitter was still fully two-thirds her starting size.

What the hay kind of spell is this? Flitter wondered, as her belly lost contact with the floor, lifted into the air by the magic aura.

—————

“Pinkie, I don’t think this is going to work,” Twilight said. “This is just an older version of Apple Bright’s Chubby Chaser. Another rapid weight-gain spell. You know, the opposite of what you’re looking for.”

“Yes, but look at how you cast it,” Pinkie said, slapping her forehoof onto the page. “Under ‘material components’ it says: ‘the fat of one stout mare or stallion, to serve as fuel.’ You see, Twilight? Not as a catalyst, as fuel.”

“Oh.” Twilight’s eyes widened, and she scanned the page quickly. “You’re right! It isn’t how Apple Bright intended for anypony to use his spell, but you actually could use this to remove large quantities of somepony’s excess fat.”

“Great!” Pinkie stood up and marched over in front of Twilight. “Cast it on me, so I can use it to make Flitter thin again!”

“Um, Pinkie?” Twilight gulped. “You realize the thinning is just a side-effect, right?”

“Yeah, of course. All the weight Flitter loses will get magically transferred to me!”

“Not just transferred. Multiplied. However fat Flitter is right now, you’re going to end up four times as big, if I cast this spell.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” Pinkie stepped forward until her nose was inches away from Twilight’s. “Are you worried about my weight, Twilight? That’s nice of you, but…”

“No, no, it’s just…” Twilight blushed. “Is there some catch? Is this a prank?”

“If this were, it’d be weird and not very funny.” Pinkie furrowed her brows. “Twilight, do you think all my pranks are weird and not very funny?”

“You really want me to cast a spell that will make you a big ball of blubber?”

“You don’t need to talk me into it, silly! I’ve already made up my mind.”

Twilight allowed herself to smile. “Alright, then.” Her horn lit up as she charged the spell. “Can I come see you, after you’re done?”

Pinkie smiled right back. “If this spell works as well as you say, it’ll be hard for you not to see me!”

—————

“Hhrrrmm…” Flitter reached forward, straining against her bloated shoulders and the sleeves of fat on her forelegs—which both gave less resistance as they shrank with every passing second. Eventually, she could brush her hooves against Pinkie’s face. Then, Flitter grasped Pinkie’s cheeks, holding their faces together just as Pinkie had done before.

In this position, Flitter could feel as Pinkie’s face grew fatter—her cheeks squishing against those hooves with their continued expansion. At the same time, more fur brushed against the other side of Flitter’s hooves: the immense fat of Pinkie’s torso was swallowing her neck. And Pinkie’s forelegs continued sinking into her bloating shoulders in the same way—up to the knees by now—while her expanding haunches reached nearly to her hind pasterns. Those haunches were thick enough to be a bed for a normal-sized pony; as they expanded even further, Pinkie’s cutie marks stretched to the size of bed sheets.

While Pinkie’s shape disappeared further under ever-thickening layers of round flab, Flitter was beginning to resemble herself again, slowly but surely. The fat of her withers slowly released her neck. Her legs emerged farther and farther from her shoulders and haunches as they shrank. Reveling in her newfound freedom, Flitter tried to kick her hind legs—and those hooves just bounced against her belly, still the height of two ponies. Though her haunches and rump shrank—the dragonflies on her cutie mark were merely the size of hawks by this point—they were still fat enough to wobble at the motion.

And that shaking carried through Flitter’s forelegs, to Pinkie’s fattening face—and then the rest of Pinkie’s gigantic body, which jiggled and rippled as it expanded even larger. Her cheeks were each larger than her head. They squished forward as the thick circle of fat around her neck—now merging with her torso—pressed against the back of her head and the base of her jaw. Pinkie’s forelegs had disappeared up to the pasterns; only the very tips of her hind hooves still poked out of her bloating haunches. Underneath, her gut widened farther and farther, spreading across the floor, until it pressed into Flitter’s cloud mattress, bulging around its edges. If she were resting directly on that mattress, her belly would squish over all four sides, just like Flitter’s had before. Pinkie’s stomach grew to four times a normal pony’s height—she was a hill of pink blubber, the same size Flitter had been before this magic spell—and still she grew even larger.

Pinkie gave one final kick with her hind hooves, barely moving them an inch, and then the fat of her haunches engulfed them completely. Those hips, swollen so large that her cutie marks now resembled trios of weather balloons, bobbed and jiggled from their place atop Pinkie’s ever-expanding gut. Said belly spread like a doughy glacier underneath, pushing Flitter’s cloud mattress into the wall with its continued growth. On the other side, that humongous blob of a stomach bulged around the only other furniture in the room—the folding table, a chair, a small bookcase with a gramophone on top—quickly enveloping them in the sea of pink pudge. Pinkie’s gut, bearing as much fat as thousands upon thousand of cakes, already covered a third of the room’s huge floor space, and still it spread even more.

Flitter worked her wings, noting with joy how much less her body jiggled with every flap. Her legs were freed from their flabby prisons; her belly was merely large enough to force her legs outward and rest on the floor. And then Flitter murmured apprehensively at the tightness around her forehooves. She was still gripping Pinkie’s face, barely holding onto a pair of pudgy cheeks wider than most ponies’ rumps. But as Pinkie’s withers and neck bulged even further, expanding around her head like enormous lumps of bread dough, they pinned Flitter’s forehooves in place.

“Hrrm!” Flitter muttered into Pinkie’s lips, trying in vain to pull her legs free. Her hooves would slide out a few inches—then that pink doughnut of fat would spread forward a few inches as well. Pinkie’s head was sinking into her own torso and pulling Flitter in with her, almost as fast as Flitter was pulling herself out. “Hrrm! Mrrmm!” Flitter jerked and yanked—making Pinkie’s fat face bounce and the rest of her body wobble and shake—as she slowly extracted her hooves from the hungry pink crevice.

Pinkie just giggled into Flitter’s mouth, as her whole body jiggled and rippled and just kept growing. Her forehooves disappeared completely into the oversized marshmallows at her sides. Now, the only evidence that she’d once possessed legs were infolded divots, each in the centers of the fat doughnuts that used to be her shoulders and haunches. Her individual rump cheeks—bouncing and slapping against each other as her body shook—were larger than a college freshmare’s dorm room. And those were still dwarfed by that titanic belly: a hill of pink flab, lifting Pinkie above the floor to five times her old height, then six times. That blubber covered two-thirds of the floor; it spread completely over Flitter’s mattress, pressing it down into the cloud floor; it bulged more and more tightly around the furniture pinned against the opposite wall, and still it expanded to mind-boggling sizes.

Once Flitter’s own belly had finally shrunk enough, she placed her hind hooves on Pinkie’s chest flab and used that as leverage. She pushed with her back legs—her hooves sinking six inches, then a full foot, into that soft, pink pudge—as she pulled on her forelegs. “Hrrrrrrgg…” she said, grunting right into Pinkie’s mouth, as she strained with all her might. Then, with a soft pop! her hooves sprang free from the rolls of neck fat that were still swallowing Pinkie’s head.

“Whoa!” Flitter fell backwards, finally breaking the kiss as she tumbled away from Pinkie—then the magic aura caught her. After reorienting the pegasus, it mashed her muzzle firmly back into Pinkie’s, allowing the body weight transfer to resume.

“Mmmmm…” Pinkie moaned contentedly, as she resumed growing fatter and fatter. Her neck and torso bulged all around her head—above, below, and on both sides, forming a small cave of pink flab about her. Underneath, more and more fat grew on her titanic belly. That mountain of adipose had spread far enough to squish against three walls of the room, and only a few feet separated it from the remaining wall. Flitter’s mattress, buried underneath Pinkie’s flab, was flattened into a cloud rug. Crushed between that pink gut and the wall, the table creaked in defeat and broke into splinters, followed quickly by the chair, then the bookcase—each piece of furniture’s demise sending ripples across the gigantic globe of Pinkie’s still-expanding belly.

Meanwhile, Flitter’s eyes widened, as the magic aura tightened once more around her whole body. “Hrrmm! Hmmm!” she protested into Pinkie’s mouth. Suddenly, the magic squeezed—hard enough to force the breath from her lungs. Just as suddenly, the grip eased up, freeing Flitter to suck in a few breaths.

And then Flitter found herself jerked backwards, as the magic aura pulled her out of the kiss once again. Hovering in the air, she had the presence of mind to hold her wings at the ready, just in case she dropped. And from this position, several feet back from Pinkie, Flitter could better take in the sight of the pink behemoth that her friend had become. Pinkie’s face was barely visible—sunken a few feet into the fat of her torso, and obscured behind a pair of cheeks, each as wide as an ordinary pony’s entire rump. Her shoulders and haunches were doughnut-shaped lumps of lard, several times a pony’s height in diameter. Her rump cheeks were smooth pink hills, large enough to accommodate multiple picnicking families. And supporting all of that—lifting her up to just a few inches shy of the ceiling—was the squashed globe of that stupefyingly huge belly. Before the magic spell, Flitter had possessed feet-thick layers of fat; Pinkie Pie’s largest deposits were stories thick. Enough energy to feed the rest of Equestria for months was stored in that titanic stomach as pure blubber.

“In the name of Celestia…” Flitter whispered.

Then the magic spell dissipated, its work complete. Both ponies were released from the aura’s grip. Flitter remembered to flap her wings. Pinkie, of course, lacked wings—and at her size, they wouldn’t have done her any good, anyway.

One second, Pinkie was there. The next, Pinkie was gone, and the entire floor with her.

“Crud!” Flitter muttered, then she dove after the falling pony on pure instinct.

Pinkie had a few seconds’ head start, but she also had a huge surface area, so friction would slow her fall significantly. Flitter, on the other hoof, could minimize her drag and flap for extra downward acceleration. So catching up with Pinkie was no trouble at all.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeee!” Pinkie shouted, as Flitter zoomed by.

Once Flitter had gained a sufficient lead, she slowed to a hover—stopping right in place to intercept Pinkie’s fall. “Don’t worry, Pinkie!” she shouted up at the pink blob dropping towards her. “I’ll catch you!”

Flitter had just enough time to realize that she may have made a mistake—and then she found herself plastered to the underside of that huge belly, still falling at a worrying speed.

Seconds later, Pinkie impacted the ground.

—————

Ponyville locals tell interesting stories about this day. They claim that they heard a sound like a mining explosion, or another battle between Twilight Sparkle and some villain. That every building and most of the trees leaped at least ten feet into the air. That the local geography changed after that day: hills where valleys used to be, streams flowing the opposite direction from before, and entire new veins of gemstones opened up.

There are even stories that tables shook and teacups rattled as far away as Canterlot.

—————

Pinkie bounced a few times before coming to rest. She lay there, in the middle of a shallow crater that used to be a grassy field. The nearest Ponyville houses were visible just over the rim.

“That was fun!” Pinkie shouted. “Let’s do that again, Flitter!”

Naturally, there was no answer from Flitter.

“Flitter? Hey, Flitter!” Pinkie tried to look around. But with her head sunken into her own body fat, turning her neck even an inch proved impossible. “Huh? Flitter, where are you?” Then her face lit up. “Oh, I know where you’re hiding!”

Pinkie closed her eyes and grunted. Then, through some means known only to Pinkie—some obscure contortion of muscles under her tons of body fat—she rolled over, onto her back. When her mountainous belly faced the sky, it exposed a lilac-colored patch in the shape of a pony, utterly miniscule against Pinkie’s vastness. Flitter, now flat as a sheet of paper, was stuck tightly to that titanic gut.

She blinked a few times. Then a sudden ripple of stomach fat shook her into the air, where Flitter freely fluttered like a flag with no flagpole. But before the breeze could carry her too far away, Pinkie caught her—wrapping her strangely prehensile mane around one flattened forehoof.

“What were you doing under there, silly?” Pinkie asked her pancaked friend.

Flitter still couldn’t answer, her pupils bouncing around inside her two-dimensional eyes.

Pinkie rolled back over onto her belly, and Flitter flapped helplessly in her mane’s grip. Once she was upright again, Pinkie continued, “Wow, that spell’s even more powerful than Twilight said. It wasn’t supposed to make you this skinny!”

Flitter’s eyes finally straightened out. She flashed a wry smile at Pinkie.

“But don’t you worry one bit! Auntie Pinkie Pie knows just how to fix this…” Then Pinkie opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

Flitter arched an eyebrow in silent confusion. But when Pinkie’s mane wrapped around her neck, and brought their faces closer together, realization dawned. Flitter’s eyes widened, and she tried to flail her legs—but in their flattened state, all they could do was flop ineffectually.

Pinkie closed her eyes, clamped her lips against Flitter’s one more time, and blew.

First, Flitter’s head puffed up, regaining its third dimension in just a few seconds. Her torso and rump soon followed—then her legs, one by one, and finally her wings. Soon enough, Flitter was back to her normal shape.

But Pinkie kept blowing. And for the third time this week, Flitter felt the first stings of her body’s stretching to accommodate Pinkie’s in-rushing breath—as her torso surpassed its normal diameter and continued inflating. “Nnnmm! Nrrrmm!” Flitter tried to protest, through cheeks puffing up big as baseballs—her voice muffled by soft pink lips pumping yet more warm air into her. Her backside squeaked almost as loud as her voice, as her inflating rump cheeks rubbed together like a pair of party balloons. Flitter kicked her legs and beat her wings, while her torso swelled to twice its usual size, and then beyond.

Several more lungfuls of Pinkie’s breath rushed down Flitter’s throat. Her body was already large enough to fit two or three beach balls inside, and still it inflated even more. She flapped frantically, trying to pull herself away from Pinkie—but the curly, pink mane held her tightly against Pinkie’s lips, ensuring no air escaped. Flitter clapped her forehooves against the pink behemoth and shoved with all her strength, but her legs sank halfway into Pinkie’s flab; her futile struggling just made Pinkie jiggle and wobble as she pumped even more air into Flitter.

“Nrrrrmmmm!” As Flitter protested in vain, a blush spread across her cheeks, now soccer ball-sized. The air from Pinkie filled every cubic inch of Flitter’s expanding body—adding more cubic inches to her by the second—and spread a surprisingly pleasant warmth from her head to her hooves to the tips of her feathers. It was as if the feeling of Pinkie’s kiss had infused Flitter’s entire being.

And along with that kiss, another familiar sensation filled Flitter’s hind legs, as more and more air rushed into them. Soon enough—Fwoomp! Fwoomp!—those legs swelled up twice as thick and stuck straight out from her haunches. “Hhrrm! Nrrrrmm!” Flitter flailed her forelegs for a few seconds longer, her hooves beating against Pinkie’s flabby chest, squishing into its softness and sending ripples across that mountainous body. And then the same stiffness from Flitter’s hind legs spread to her front ones: Fwoomp! Her left leg inflated and then—Fwoomp!—her right soon followed. Her wings flapped one last time before trembling, then—Fwoomp! Fwoomp! Fwoomp!—they also stuck straight out, her individual feathers inflating one-by-one. Fwoomp! Fwoomp! Fwoomp!

Then, with two softer fwoomps, Flitter’s ears poofed up—forming small, pointy balloons on the sides of her head. And she whimpered, waggling her puffy limbs the few inches they could still move—already, they were sinking into her swollen shoulders and haunches. Her whole body was filling with air; her shoulders, chest, and back were all rounding out. All the while, her body ballooned larger and larger, her diameter growing to three times her normal height, and then right past it.

And still Pinkie kept blowing, showing off a lung capacity that would have been downright impossible for any other pony. Whole cubic yards of Pinkie’s breath rushed into Flitter, filling the pegasus to sizes that brought back unpleasant memories—five times her old height and beyond. Her sides and belly swelled outward, inch after inch, foot after foot. Her torso bulged out so far, it began to swallow her neck; her inflating withers squeaked as they brushed against the back of her puffy cheeks. Her wings squeaked as well, the feathers brushing against each other as they grew into long, oval balloons.

Flitter’s entire body grew more spherical as she inflated to seven times her old height, then even larger. Shoulders, haunches, and rump: all were slowly merging with the huge balloon of her torso. Her puffed-up legs were sunken halfway into her bloating sides. Her neck had been swallowed completely, and now Flitter’s torso bulged over her head and around her cheeks in its continued expansion. Only her wings were spared from this assimilation; they bulged out further and further as yet more air rushed into them.

Flitter’s eyes widened even further as her cheeks—each puffed up larger than her head—squished inward, squeezed as her own torso bulged around them in its relentless growth. “Nmmmmmm!” she cried, but the rest of her body nearly drowned out her voice. Her inflated legs squeaked as they sank to their hooves into her sides, all the while frantically wiggling as far as that ballooning torso would let them. Her wings squeaked even louder: the individual feathers brushed against each other as they filled with more and more air, inexorably swelling into thicker, rounder balloons. And from their place atop the curve of Flitter’s back, those puffy wings wobbled further with even the slightest breeze.

More and more, Pinkie blew—relentlessly pumping up Flitter, with no end in sight. The balloon that had once been a pegasus swelled to nine times her old height, then surged beyond. The dragonflies of her cutie mark were as large as adult ponies, stretching farther along the massive curves that had been her haunches. Her hooves disappeared completely into her ballooning torso, each squeaking one last time as her sides bulged completely around them. Above, even her smallest feathers were swollen enough to contain a stallion comfortably, and still her wings inflated even larger. Below, her belly expanded far enough to sidle up to the front of Pinkie’s mammoth gut—then press into that pink flab with its continued growth. Pinkie jiggled and wobbled at the touch, and kept breathing more and more air into Flitter.

“Nrrrrrrrmmm!” Flitter was a lilac blimp now, almost as mind-bogglingly massive as the pink land-whale inflating her. Her overstretched body was nearly spherical, with only four infolded divots on her sides to mark where she’d once had legs. Her head was over halfway swallowed by the swollen curves that had once been her withers. Her wings towered in the air, wobbling back and forth as those feathers swelled even thicker and blunter. Every uncountable square inch of Flitter squeaked and creaked, as she stretched farther and farther to contain the endless volume of Pinkie’s breath, filling her larger and larger. “Nrrmmmmmm!”

And then, finally, Pinkie stopped. She closed her lips and released her mane-grip on Flitter. The pegasus-turned-blimp—larger than a two-story house, with wings inflated so large they nearly touched the foundation of her own cloud-home—just stared back with dazed eyes. For a few seconds, she lazily bounced backwards, away from Pinkie. Then she opened her mouth.

“Pbtpbptbtbtbtpbt!” Flitter shot backwards, then turned and spun in the air—spewing and sputtering all the while from the air rushing out her lips. She zoomed and whirled; she twisted and twirled; she pulled mad loop-de-loops as her rapid deflation propelled her through the sky. As she shrank closer to her normal size, she turned back towards Pinkie.

“Pbtpbptbtbtbt—Ooomph!” Flitter crashed into a slope and stuck there—a very soft, squishy slope. “Uugh, stop the cart. I wanna get off…” she muttered, massaging her head with her forehooves. Then she paused, shook her head, and felt around her own face more intently. She felt nothing out of the ordinary: no chubby cheeks, no double chin, no inflated ears. Flitter looked intently at her forelegs, and they were normal, too: no air inside them, no sleeves of fat around them. Flapping her wings confirmed that she once more had thin feathers to slice the air, not bulbous feathers full of air. And her belly… actually still had a bit of chub. It was just enough of a paunch for her hooves to squish into. Likewise, her hips were a little wider, and her rump a little softer, than they’d been before the whipped cream incident. But it wasn’t anything Flitter couldn’t fix with a bit of diet and exercise. Thankfulness—the genuine article, not thankfulness under duress—swelled up within Flitter’s no-longer-swollen chest.

“Oh my gosh, Pinkie, it feels so good to be back to my right size again!” Then Flitter glanced around, finally taking in exactly where she was. From her perch on this round hillside, Flitter was higher than the roofs of the nearest houses. The hill itself was remarkably soft; her backside squished in several inches where she sat. She was in the middle of a baby-blue patch stretching hundreds of feet in every direction, surrounded by a vast field of pink: a party balloon cutie mark, stretched to the size of a hot-air balloon. “Oh, Pinkie…”

Flitter launched into the air—Pinkie’s gigantic haunch jiggling at her takeoff—and flew to the other side of the chub mountain. There, she found the nook where Pinkie’s head had sunk about two feet into her own body fat. Fortunately, Pinkie’s enormously chubby cheeks pushed back against the encroaching flab, and stopped it from closing completely over her head.

“Pinkie!” Flitter called, as she landed on the floor formed by the front of Pinkie’s belly.

“Flitter!” Pinkie replied. “Are you okay? Did it work?”

“Am I okay?” Flitter’s hind legs gave out, dropping her to a sitting position—the impact sending ripples through PInkie. “Am I okay? What about you, Pinkie? You’re… you’re...”

“Uh, pink?” Pinkie suggested.

“You’re huge! Beyond huge!” Flitter spread her forelegs, as if trying to encompass all of her friend’s immensity. “Pinkie, they’ll need to invent new words to describe how fat you are!”

Pinkie’s face lit up. “How about gigafat? Or maybe jumbo chumbo? Thick, but spelled with three C’s? Oh! Oh! I’ve got it! Super-chubby-fattylicious-extra-adiposious!”

“You’re crazy.” Flitter snorted. “Did you knowbeforehoof that the spell would do this to you?”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Pssh, yeah, of course.”

“You’re crazy. And I think you deserve a hug.”

“Aw, thanks!”

Flitter dropped to her belly and crawled forward, into the pink cave. Pinkie’s cheeks were far too wide for Flitter to possibly wrap her forelegs around them both, so instead she tried to reach under, to Pinkie’s neck. She pushed her forehooves once again into the squishy crevice between Pinkie’s head and the encroaching fat of her bloated torso. As Flitter reached deeper, Pinkie wobbled at the movement and giggled several times.

Eventually, Flitter’s legs were submerged up to the shoulders, and her head was squished into Pinkie’s right cheek. “Uh, Pinkie? I can’t quite reach.”

“That’s alright!” Pinkie chirped. “This still feels nice.”

Of course, Pinkie was immobilized, too encased in her own fat to possibly hug back. But her blubber embraced Flitter all on its own—her cheeks and withers squeezing around Flitter’s forelegs, and her belly fat allowing the rest of Flitter to sink in a few inches—and that was almost like a hug.

“Yeah,” Flitter said, nuzzling Pinkie’s enormous cheek, like an oversized pillow. “This is nice.”

They stayed like that for a short while.

Eventually, Flitter broke the silence. “So, Pinkie… You’re huge now. Do you have a plan to get back to normal, or are you just gonna stay this fat forever?”

Pinkie beamed. “Oh, that’s easy! My metabolism is crazy. I should be able to walk again in two months or so.”

Flitter wore a sly grin, even though Pinkie couldn’t see it. “Oh. That long, huh?” She pulled one foreleg free and leaned harder into that huge cheek, until she felt Pinkie’s chub push back. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could help you with that, Pinkie. I don’t think I can help you ‘budge this pudge,’ but for the next two months I could help you do everything else that needs doing.”

“Ooooh! Everything else?”

“Oh, you know.” Flitter grabbed as much cheek fat as she could between her forelegs and squeezed, resting her head atop the impromptu pillow of Pinkie chub. “Everything you can’t do yourself because you’re—what was the phrase?—‘a big, cute, squishy, round, cute ball of chubby-chub!’” Flitter let go, and as Pinkie’s face wobbled against her, she traced small circles in that cheek fur with one hoof. “I can set up the gramophone when you want to listen to music. I can read aloud for you when you want a good book. I can help bring your food when it’s dinner time. And when it’s shower time—” Flitter leaned into that cheek again and lowered her voice, “—I can rinse you off and scrub down every last inch of your huge, cute body. So? How does that sound?”

Pinkie blinked. “You said ‘cute’ a bunch. Are you flirting with me?”

“Yes! Yes, I am.” Flitter pulled away, then sat down directly in front of Pinkie—her slightly chubby rump sinking once more into the exponentially larger belly below. “You made me feel things, Pinkie. Things I don’t really get, yet, but I’d like to see where this goes. Besides, I still owe you some good cuddles. And also I’m curious about whether we can kiss without one of us blowing up like a balloon.”

Pinkie smiled, and even that simple motion made her oversized cheeks jiggle. “You make a very convincing case. Let’s do it.”

“Thanks.” Flitter gave another quick nuzzle to Pinkie’s right cheek, then pulled back. She lifted off, hovering a few feet in front of Pinkie. “First things first, we need to get you home.”

Her eyes travelled up and down Pinkie’s gigantic form, and she added, “I have no idea how to do that.”

1. Whipped Cream

“Come on!” Flitter whined. Knock, knock, knock, went her hoof against the door. “Come ooooooonnn...”

“Um,” Cloudchaser said, “the sign clearly says it’s closed.”

Flitter whirled to face her sister. “But it makes no sense! Sugarcube Corner is never closed at this time of day.”

“Yeah, but the Cakes are on vacation, remember?”

“But Pinkie Pie is still here to run the place!”

“Exactly. And if Pinkie, in her infinite Pinkieness, decides to close the bakery at 2:00 p.m. on a Thursday, we’re better off not questioning it. Nothing good comes from questioning Pinkie Logic, remember?”

“But, but...” Flitter turned back to Sugarcube Corner’s front door, desperately hoping that the Closed sign had disappeared while she was looking away. No such luck. She slumped her entire weight against the door. “I need one of those cream horns! That sweet, flaky pastry—that thick cream filling—I’ve been looking forward to it all day!”

“I’m sorry, but we’ll just have to get one later tonight. Or maybe tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait that long!”

Flitter flailed, and by pure chance her hoof struck the doorknob. It turned freely.

“Huh?” She stepped back far enough for the door to open, grabbed the knob, and turned. “Hey,” she said, “maybe Sugarcube Corner is actually open, but Pinkie put up the Closed sign by accident!”

The door opened. The interior was dark—all the windows shut, all the lamps unlit.

“Ooorrrr,” Cloudchaser said, rolling her eyes, “it really is closed, and Pinkie just forgot to lock it.”

Flitter snorted and stepped over the threshold.

“Flitter!” Cloudchaser whispered angrily, her words coming out as a hiss. “What are you doing?!”

“I told you. I need a cream horn.”

“I’m pretty sure this is wrong.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna pay for it!”

“That’s not... Oh, fine!” Cloudchaser stomped and turned her back on her sister. “Just go, do whatever. And if you get into trouble, that’s on your head!”

Now it was Flitter’s turn to roll her eyes. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” She trotted away from the light, further into Sugarcube Corner.

In spite of her professed nonchalance, Flitter’s heart was beating faster. In this low light, the bakery’s normally cheerful interior now looked so ominous. As she stepped forward, she caught a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye. She spun to face the lurking creature, and found it was just a table with chairs standing atop it. She let out a weak chuckle and took a step backwards. Something brushed against her tail. Instinctively, she bucked—then something crashed, and she leaped into the air. And then realized that she had kicked over another table.

“Flitter, you dummy,” she muttered to herself, “you’re literally jumping at shadows. Get ahold of yourself.”

She flew the rest of the way to the display counter, then landed—and groaned. The trays were empty. Where there should have been cream horns—and other, lesser baked goods like cupcakes, muffins, scones, doughnuts, eclairs, baklava, miniature bundt cakes, cinnamon rolls, croissants, bagels, kolaches, and all those others whose names she couldn’t be bothered to learn—there was just empty air. Flitter even stepped behind the counter, to seek anyplace her beloved pastry might be hidden away from customers’ eyes. All she found were cleaning supplies.

Flitter hung her head and steeled herself for the empty-hooved walk back out the front door that awaited her—a Walk of Shame if ever there was one. Then she noticed a faint light from the kitchen door, and a low but familiar voice.

“Pinkie Pie?” Flitter asked as she poked her head into the kitchen. All the lamps were off in there, too—but a light shone from an open door on the opposite side of the room. And Pinkie’s voice was definitely coming from beyond that doorway. Flitter trotted over, towards the beacon beckoning in the darkness.

It was the doorway to the basement. “Hello, Pinkie!” Flitter called down the stairs. Pinkie apparently didn’t notice, and continued talking to herself. No, singing to herself—Flitter could only make out a few words here and there, but it seemed to be a song about baking.

Flitter crossed the threshold and began descending the stairs. “Hey, Pinkie, what’s a mare gotta do around here to get a—”

Her front hoof landed on a foal’s toy, a wooden horse on wheels. “Whoa!” she cried as she fell forward, the stairs rushing up to meet her face. She bounced off the wooden slats and continued tumbling in a very sloppy somersault. “Owch! Eeech! Ooof!” Flailing her hooves, she tried in vain to grab onto something, anything, to halt her fall.

Just as she began to wonder how long the stairway was, she hit her head again...

—————

“You were right all along, Flitter!” Cloudchaser said.

She and Flitter were somehow in a clearing in the woods. The surrounding forest was strangely colorful, impossibly bright, and incredibly hazy. But none of that mattered, because in front of Flitter stood a table, piled high with cream horns. A smile spread across Flitter’s face as she reached for the nearest pastry. She could already imagine how it tasted—incredibly vividly, in fact.

“Go on, help yourself!” Cloudchaser said. But apparently Flitter was reaching far too slowly, so Cloudchaser grabbed a cream horn herself and shoved it into her sister’s mouth.

Flitter closed her eyes and chewed, savoring the texture of the cream filling that squirted out. And then it kept squirting out. Wow, this one must have been double-stuffed! she thought. She swallowed and felt the lump of cream settle heavily in her stomach.

Cloudchaser shoved another one into Flitter’s mouth. “You deserve it!” she said.

Flitter swallowed again, but somehow her mouth still felt fuller than it should have. Thick cream continued spilling from the two pastries, now filling her cheeks. She chewed and swallowed once more, and this time she felt it completely fill her stomach.

“These really are the best, aren’t they?” Cloudchaser continued, pushing two more cream horns between Flitter’s lips.

Something wasn’t quite right, Flitter thought. No matter how much she chewed and swallowed, she wasn’t making any progress on eating these cream horns. Her belly was bulging to fit all the cream she downed: its diameter had already grown a full foot, and every gulp added more inches to its girth. But still there was more to eat—far more cream than could possibly have fit in four pastries. Flitter swallowed again and again, feeling her stomach swell several inches more. And she noticed the strangest look on her sister’s face as Cloudchaser picked up two more cream horns, just before everything went fuzzy...

—————

Flitter noticed the light first, as she drifted from her dream into wakefulness. She wasn’t under hazy sunlight, but bright, sharp lamplight. And she wasn’t in a clearing, but sprawled on a pillow on a stone floor. She was in Sugarcube Corner’s basement. And she wasn’t swallowing down impossible quantities of cream filling...

No, actually she was swallowing cream filling.

Flitter’s eyes snapped open. She was surrounded by the massive machinery of an automated pastry assembly line. Directly in front of her was a metal vat, easily tens of thousands of gallons in volume—maybe even hundreds of thousands. Flitter could just make out one word on the side: “Cream”. The vat whirrrred as it pumped its contents down a rubber hose—whose nozzle was lodged firmly in Flitter’s mouth.

Her cheeks bulged out from the volume of cream passing her lips. Every few seconds, she swallowed involuntarily—and with each swallow, she felt the cushion beneath her slosh and grow slightly larger. A glance downward confirmed: what Flitter thought was a pillow was actually her own belly, bloated with the gallons of cream she’d already sucked down.

She tried to call out for help, but it just came out as, “Mrrrmmmm—” Gulp. “—hmmrmmhmm—” Gulp. “—hmmmm!”

Next, Flitter tried to pull the hose out, but her hooves slid ineffectually along its too-slick length. The effort set her huge gut to shaking even more beneath her.

Finally, Flitter realized how to escape. She stood up, wobbling on her hooves as her still-growing paunch swung back and forth beneath her. Her stomach hung three-quarters of the way to the floor, and bulged at least a foot to each side. Then she walked backwards, away from the tank—sloshing with every step, her legs squishing against the soft embrace of her inflating belly. As she wondered just how much more slack was in the hose, she glanced down. For the first time, Flitter saw her gut bloat several inches further out as she swallowed a mouthful of cream. And she saw it happen again, and again, and again. And she picked up her pace, positively scrambling away.

Flitter looked forward again, desperately hoping to see the hose begin pulling taut. That was when her rear hooves hit the conveyor belt. It was short, just a few feet off the floor—the perfect height for a pony to trip over. Flitter landed on her rump, and as she did, something long, hard, and cold wedged itself between her cheeks. Her yelp of shock was muffled by the hose in her mouth. Without a thought she leaped forward, back on her hooves, but the offending object remained firmly stuck in her rear. And then she felt a soft but firm pressure from that end.

She had sat on another hose, and now it was pumping her full of cream, too.

Flitter froze, unsure of which direction to go, which hose to deal with first. In those crucial seconds, she inflated twice as quickly as before, her diameter increasing a full foot. When her belly swelled large enough to rest on the floor, the coldness of the stones against her belly snapped her out of her panicked indecision. Flitter turned parallel to the conveyor belt and scurried forward with all possible speed. Which wasn’t very much speed at all, because she was dragging a stomach filled with four times her normal weight in cream. She had to press her leg into the side of her gut with every step she took, her whole body wobbling with the motion. And with every step—and every inch she inflated—her gut pushed back harder on the insides of her legs.

Her belly wasn’t the only part that was growing. Thanks to that second hose, Flitter’s rump and haunches—formerly lean and muscular—were rounding out, swelling to twice as wide as before. Her butt shook and bounced atop her hind legs; her still-expanding cheeks rubbed lewdly against each other as she walked.

After moving only a few feet, Flitter tried to take another step, but her left forehoof met nothing but air. As she felt another tendril of fear in the back of her mind, she stretched that leg, trying to reach where the floor should have been. Then one of her rear hooves also left the floor, and then the other, and finally, her right forehoof lifted into the air. Her belly, stuffed full of seven times her weight in cream—rapidly approaching eight times her weight—was just too large for her to reach the ground anymore. Flitter shouted into the hose, “Hmmmm—” Gulp. “—mmmmmmmm—” Gulp. “—mrrrrm!” and flailed her hooves, trying in vain to touch the floor again. This made her bounce up and down atop her jiggling, swelling belly. Her haunches slapped against her legs and gut from the motion, rounding out as they inflated larger than a pair of beach balls.

As she surpassed nine times her normal volume, Flitter stopped flailing and went limp. Her legs, resting against the side of her stomach, sank a few inches into its softness. As she laid her head down, she found the front of her gut to be a squishy and surprisingly comfortable pillow. In fact, now that she didn’t see any way to escape from this predicament, she had to admit that it actually felt pretty good. The sensation of her stomach swelling—eleven times its normal size now, and still growing—was almost like a good post-workout stretch. The gentle pressure of her legs squishing into her belly was amplified, and far more pleasurable than it had ever been before. The hose in her rump... well, she didn’t see herself doing it again in her own free time, but it didn’t feel bad, either. And the cream in her mouth was as delicious as always—just as good on the ten thousandth mouthful as it was on the first.

Then a familiar voice drew Flitter out of her thoughts. “La, la-la-la, la-la-la la la-la!” Pinkie Pie sang wordlessly, her voice drawing closer.

Flitter turned just in time to see Pinkie round the corner—and prance with her eyes closed, straight towards her. “La la-la, la-la Oomph!” Pinkie collided face-first with Flitter’s massive stomach, squishing in up to her neck before she bounced back. Her generously proportioned rump cushioned her landing. Then she opened her eyes—and could do nothing but stare, awestruck, at the bloated mass that Flitter had become. She was a belly, stuffed with thirteen times her weight in cream—and counting—with a rump the size of an apple cart and a tiny pegasus attached to both.

Pinkie shook her head. “Flitter? Are you trying to become a balloon?” she asked.

“Hmmhmm!” Gulp. “Mmnmm hmm!” was all the reply Flitter could manage.

“Oh, right!” Pinkie slapped her forehead. “Silly me, how could I forget! You love my special Sugarcube Corner Cream Horns! More than anypony else in Ponyville! I could even say...” Pinkie prodded that huge gut, her foreleg sinking halfway in. “You’re our biggest fan.”

Flitter blushed, then rolled her eyes, wishing that Pinkie would just get on with it. Not that Pinkie’s hoof in her side didn’t feel good—it felt very good—but as that pony kept yammering, she was still inflating. Flitter was fifteen times her old volume now, her cream-stuffed belly pushing her legs further apart with every inch it bulged outward, with every mouthful she gulped down.

“So it’s not a surprise at all that you’d get such a huge hankering for our special cream,” Pinkie continued as she cantered over to the side of the tank. “I mean, it is a surprise, but it shouldn’t be! All the signs are obvious in hindsight.”

Pinkie was normally the most hyperactive mare in Ponyville, but now her movements were maddeningly slow. Or perhaps she just seemed that way to Flitter, who was still getting pumped larger with every moment Pinkie dilly-dallied. Casually, the baker grabbed a flat, metal box, then carried it back to Flitter’s side. The top was covered in buttons, levers, and dials: it was a mobile control panel of sorts.

Pinkie’s hoof hovered over the panel, and she smiled up at Flitter. “Are you ready?”

Flitter nodded enthusiastically, her whole belly wobbling with the motion.

“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinky mashed her hoof down and cranked one dial all the way to the right.

Even more cream rushed into Flitter’s mouth. Her eyes widened as she gagged it down, swallowing continuously now. The whirrrrr of the pumps grew louder as both of them worked twice as fast as before. Flitter rapidly bloated to seventeen, eighteen, then nineteen times her old size. As she rose into the air atop her inflating gut, she waved her hooves frantically, in what she hoped was a Stop! gesture. She couldn’t remember what the right gesture was—the sensations from her stretching belly were intensifying and making it hard to think straight.

After Flitter had swallowed twenty times her weight, Pinkie punched a button on the console. The flow of cream mercifully slowed, then stopped. Flitter relaxed, slumping atop her huge cushion of a gut.

“There!” Pinkie chirped. “Wasn’t that fun?”

Flitter mumbled and shrugged.

“Somepony doesn’t sound very excited. I know what’ll cheer you up!”

Flitter bolted back up, her eyes wide, shaking her head as hard as she could.

Pinkie punched the On button, and both hoses resumed pumping cream into Flitter. Her stomach squished out to every side, pushing against the conveyor belt as it swelled larger and larger. She bloated up to twenty-two times her old size before Pinkie hit the Off switch again.

“Now how about that?”

This time, Flitter nodded vigorously.

“Great! And since you like it so much...” Pinkie punched the button again.

“Nnnnnnn! Nnnmnnmmnn...” Flitter tried to protest, and got cut off by the mass of cream forcing into her mouth, down her throat. Her face flushed and her eyes rolled back in her head as she rode her wobbling, inflating belly higher and higher. When the pumps shut off, they left her filled to twenty-five times her old size.

Pinkie beamed up at the cream-filled behemoth. “Alright! Is that enough, Flitter, or do you want more? Yes or no?”

Flitter groaned and facehoofed.

“I have no idea what that means!” Pinkie mashed the control once again. “And when that happens, I err on the side of keep going!”

Flitter’s legs were spread nearly horizontal now, and her growing belly was a squashed sphere beneath her. She had spread over the conveyor belt, crushing the machinery under her increasing weight. With every snap and crack, her gut jiggled, and she bobbed up and down atop it. Flitter moaned softly into the hose inflating her, but the whine of the pumps drowned out her vocalizations.

After Flitter had been pumped full of thirty times her weight in cream, Pinkie glanced down at her right forehoof and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, look at the time!” She wasn’t wearing a watch on that hoof. Still, she mashed the button to stop the pumps one last time—then she slid the control panel over, right next to Flitter. “I wish I could stay and give you all the cream you want, Flitter, but I really gotta go! There’s muffins in the oven and I left a cake out in the rain! But we should do this again, sometime. It was fun!”

With a smile and a wave, Pinkie turned and bounded away—up the impossibly long staircase leading out of the basement.

Just how big was this basement, anyway? And for that matter, how the hay did a room this cavernous fit underneath Sugarcube Corner? From this vantage point atop her swollen gut, several times her normal height, Flitter still couldn’t quite make out the room’s dimensions. She sighed, then rested her head once again on her belly.

The sensation made Flitter blush, harder than before. The skin of her stomach had grown ever more sensitive the further it stretched; now, the gentle pressure of her head resting on her gut, pressing into it slightly, just felt so good.

A guuurgle came from somewhere deep in Flitter’s belly, which she felt more than she heard. She gave her stomach a wry look, then slapped it with one hoof. It sloshed gently from the slap, and the feeling made Flitter’s face light up even brighter. For the briefest moment, she considered whether or not to play with her belly any further, but it was really no decision. She poked one forehoof into her skin, then both of them, grinning at the symphony of pleasure that played as her limbs squeezed into the soft, yielding cushion of her gut.

As Flitter poked and squished herself—and rode the jiggles and wobbles that she was causing—her eyes wandered lazily around the basement. Just when the pleasure began clouding her mind, she saw something that made her stop. That sign on the side of the cream vat: Flitter could read the whole thing now. It said, in glittery pink text surrounded by hearts and smiley faces, “Pinkie’s Proprietary Self-Whipping Heavy Cream!”

Self-whipping.

Her stomach gurgled again, louder. Flitter had bought a can of Pinkie’s self-whipping cream, once before, and now she tried to remember just how large it had fluffed itself up. Twice its original volume? Three times? She gurgled once more, and this time she could feel the pressure building inside her.

Flitter resumed inflating. As her bellyful of expanding cream pushed her higher, she rolled her eyes—though she was grateful that her throat was getting a rest this time, at least. Larger and larger her gut swelled, and not just her gut. The lighter, fluffier cream spread through the rest of Flitter’s body, and with it, the pressure built inside. Where the natural slope of her back had been concave, it grew convex, bulging out from the confection filling it. Her wings unfurled of their own accord, pointing straight up. Blushing, Flitter tried to fold her wings back at her side, but found they wouldn’t respond any more. She tried to reach back with her forelegs, but they wouldn’t obey her, either. They merely jutted straight out—and inflated under Flitter’s gaze, swelling with cream. Her shoulders bulged out, first like a body-builder’s muscles, then larger and rounder, swallowing the base of her legs as they grew. Her hind legs were also inflating, as were her wings, each individual feather growing into a thick oval.

Flitter was forty times her old volume now. With her entire body inflating and not just her stomach, she was growing more spherical by the second. Slowly but surely, her swollen shoulders were merging with the great curve of her growing torso. Her bloated rump and haunches were doing the same. Her legs had sunk one-quarter into her massive body, while her wings had ballooned up enough that a foal could fit inside the largest feathers. Her torso was even beginning to envelop her neck.

Part of Flitter wondered what she could have done differently to not wind up as some kind of whipped-cream-filled blimp. Another part of her wondered if there was still some way to escape, even with all her limbs completely immobilized—her legs were sinking deeper into her inflating sides by the second, while her wings swelled thicker, rounder, and stiffer. And yet another part of Flitter couldn’t believe how much she enjoyed the pressure building up inside, her skin stretching as she bloated larger and larger. It was like a massage all over, with extra special attention paid to the spots where her torso was swallowing her neck and legs. Flitter’s limbs had inflated to twice their normal thickness; where they sank into her bulging sides, they sang with pleasure from the sensation of her body enveloping them, of skin pressing tightly against skin.

As Flitter inflated to fifty times her old size, and the base of her jaw sank into her billowing body, she felt a shudder and heard a crack. Several more feet of conveyor belt collapsed beneath her expanding belly. Then she felt something to the side—a much smaller piece of metal, lying on the floor, which her gut was spreading across as it inflated. With a sinking heart, Flitter realized: it was the remote console that controlled the pump. And if her stomach triggered the On switch...

Flitter’s best hope to avoid doing that, she decided, was to roll away from the remote control. So she writhed as best she could, throwing her weight in that direction. And it worked—slowly, she tipped to the opposite side. But she was too bottom-heavy: after just a few degrees, her motion slowed even more. Her eyes widened, and she frantically tried to push herself further, waggling her hooves as far as she could, which wasn’t very much, since her legs had sunk two-thirds into her ballooning sides. “Mrrrrrrrrrmmm...” she moaned.

But it was useless. Flitter came to a complete stop—then rolled back, towards the remote control. Thanks to her forward momentum and her continued inflation, she easily covered the entire console. And when her weight pushed the biggest button down, that motion sent a vibration through her entire bloated body.

The vats turned back on, and Flitter had enough time to whimper before the cream resumed pumping into her from both ends.

She inflated faster than ever now, quickly surpassing seventy-five times her old volume. Her wings were massive: the largest feathers were almost blimps themselves, and even the smallest feathers could have comfortably fit an adult mare or two inside. Her sides squished around her hooves as her bloating torso completely swallowed her legs. Likewise, Flitter’s head was sinking deeper into the immense balloon of her own body. Her torso flattened her ears against her skull, squashed her carefully styled mane, and squished against her puffed-out cheeks as it inflated further around her head.

Flitter’s last thought before getting completely enveloped was that, in spite of everything, the cream still tasted incredible.

—————

“Flitter!” Cloudchaser called. “What’s taking so long?” She descended the stairway into Sugarcube Corner’s basement, stepping carefully to avoid the numerous tripping hazards. “Flitter!”

Upon reaching the floor, she looked around. To one side, there were conveyor belts and all manner of heavy machinery for producing baked goods in massive quantities. To the other side, there were more of the same—plus a huge, round... thing... that stuck out like a sore hoof among all the pipes and stainless steel. It was nearly the size of a three-story house—with two hoses filling it, making it even larger. And it was the same grayish lilac color as Flitter’s coat, oddly enough.

Cloudchaser shrugged and turned the other way. “Flitter! Where the hay are you?” she called, but the only answer was the whirrrring of the pumps. Cloudchaser darted back and forth, scanning the rows of equipment for any sign of her missing sister. She went airborne to get a good look from above—but still she found nothing, and soon enough she found herself back at the bottom of the staircase.

She spared another look at that balloon-thing. It was larger than a three-story house now, and wider than it was tall, squishing out under its own weight. As it filled larger, it pressed up against the surrounding machinery in a way that didn’t look very safe. In fact, it had already crushed a conveyor belt under its bulk—and, as Cloudchaser watched, one of the adjacent tanks dented like a tin can from the massive, round weight pressing against it.

She gulped and resumed searching at a quicker pace. “Come on, Flitter! We gotta get out of here, now!” she called, but still received no answer. She made another circuit of the basement, much faster than before, and found her gaze once more drawn to that great inflating blob.

Then she noticed the word Cream printed on the side of the tank—the tank that was pumping up that balloon-thing. Cloudchaser hadn’t forgotten Flitter’s reason for coming down here in the first place. Now, as that suspiciously Flitter-colored globe inflated even larger, a theory came to Cloudchaser, which was at once absurd yet strangely plausible. She flew around that great round mass, noticing for the first time the huge oval shapes at the top—brushing against the ceiling—and how much they looked like inflated wing feathers. Then she reached the far side, and her heart sank. There, on the side, was an emblem of blue and white dragonflies—stretched until it was twice or thrice the height of a pony, but clearly Flitter’s cutie mark.

“Flitter, um...” Cloudchaser gave a reassuring pat to the blob that had been her sister. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of this! Somehow.”

She zipped over to the base of the cream tank. “Come on,” she muttered, “where’s the Off switch?” After about thirty seconds of fruitless searching—with Flitter bloating even larger behind her all the while—she gave up and grabbed the base of the hose. She tried to dislodge the hose, bracing her hind legs against the tank and pulling, but it refused to budge. Though she strained until every muscle in her body burned, it was clear that it would take some kind of tool to remove this hose. Cloudchaser glanced again at Flitter; she had swollen larger than a four-story house, and now her belly was looming ominously as it inflated further.

Cloudchaser turned back to the tank—and finally noticed the power cord. “Aha!” It only took a few seconds to follow the cord to the magic generator and disconnect it, and all the other cords for good measure. All the pumps shut down; the chamber was now silent, save for the rumbles from Flitter’s massive stomach and the occasional groan of buckling metal. Cloudchaser’s wings flared in alarm as she realized: Flitter was still inflating, even with no more cream pumping into her.

Cloudchaser flew up to her sister’s head... or rather, to the divot where her head had sunk into her huge, round body. She reached in with her hooves and pushed out, peeling back the inflated skin that had once been Flitter’s neck—and revealed Flitter’s face. Even with the hose still lodged in her mouth, surprise and relief were clearly written across her face.

“Oh, Flitter...” Cloudchaser said. “Are you okay?”

“Mmmnnhmm nnmmhmm. Hmmhumm.”

“Right... Let me get that.” Cloudchaser released her sister’s side to grab the hose, and Flitter’s ballooning body swallowed her head again. Bracing against the inflating pegasus, Cloudchaser pulled on the hose. At first, the only motion was her hind hooves sinking several inches into Flitter’s bloated side, but eventually the hose slid out with a wet Pop!

“Cloudchaser,” Flitter said, as soon as her sister had uncovered her face once more. “I may have made a mistake.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Cloudchaser briefly gave her a wry smile before continuing, “I don’t know how to stop the inflation. Will you be okay?”

“I think so. But can you pull the other hose out of my butt?”