The clear spring night sky hung over the Canterlot Amphitheatre like a great, deep purple bedspread, thousands upon thousands of stars glinting down at the city along with the large sphere of the moon. It was the idea sort of night for ponies to take a seat on the hillside, spread out a blanket, and enjoy the smooth serenading of the Canterlot Symphony Orchestra.
It wasn't often that one got to experience perfection, Time Turner mused to himself as he walked up the hillside, a picnic cooler under one arm and a large, soft cushion in the other, but this came pretty close. A smile came over his face as he walked, enjoying a sensation of serenity that overcame him...
A loud burp jolted him back to reality, as he looked forward upon a massive, wobbling pair of blue love handles. Those love handles belonged to his boss, Hoity Toity... in all his 500-pound glory.
It had been about a month since Time Turner started working for Hoity as his personal assistant. When the job offer had first come up, he'd leapt at the opportunity—working as a PA for one of the biggest names in the fashion industry could only lead to high places, after all. He still remembered the utter shock he'd experienced when he saw Hoity for the first time. Turned out that he was the one of the "biggest" names in the fashion industry in every sense of the word.
Hoity was a demanding boss, to be sure. He was often short, abrasive, or downright rude, thanks in no small part to the stress such important work brought down upon his porky shoulders. Still, Time Turner could forgive that. The pay was good, he'd have great references for when and if he moved on to something else...
And, of course, he got to drink in the sight of that magnificent body.
Hoity was currently clad in a waistcoat and pants ensemble, which did next to nothing to cover his enormous amounts of adipose. His huge, wobbling globe of a belly hung straight out in front of him in full view, bouncing and jiggling ponderously with every step he took. Up above, a C-cup pair of moobs strained against the fabric of his shirt, with his purple bow tie half-sunk into his thick second chin. At the rear, his utterly gargantuan ass strained his XXXL-sized pants to bursting point, the fabric fitting snugly around each gigantic cheek, outlining them perfectly for anypony lucky enough to see them. Time Turner bit his lip, thankful to Faust that his boss couldn't see him blushing at the sight of his rear end.
"Ugh..." Hoity gasped, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. The incline of the hill was proving to be pushing him to his limits in the way of physical exertion. "Confound this blasted hill... I'm certain it wasn't this steep when I came here last."
Time Turner made a noncommittal sound with his throat.
"It doesn't help that I'm doing it on such an empty stomach," Hoity continued, snorting. "Those simpletons at the bakery need to adjust their portion sizes. Hors d'oeuvres for twenty ponies? Barely even a snack!"
"Not to worry, sir," Time Turner said, holding up the cooler. "I've got some of that extra-dense chocolate cake you like so much in here, as well as a choice of wine and cola. I took the liberty of packing it before we left."
"Ah, initiative," Hoity said, breaking into a rare smile. "That's a quality I like to see in a pony, Turner. I knew I made the right choice by hiring you."
"Thank you, sir," Time Turner replied, feeling his heart flutter at the words of praise from his boss.
"That, and you give great sponge baths," Hoity continued. Time Turner blushed profusely. If he thought about giving his boss a sponge bath, he might not be able to contain himself at all.
"H-how did the fashion shoot for Coloratura go today?" he asked, changing the subject as they approached the crest of the hill.
"Hmph. I've seen worse, I suppose," Hoity muttered, his nose in the air slightly. "Far too rustic for my taste, though. I thought I was getting country charm, and she gave me a full-on bumpkin hick look!"
As he said that, they made it to the top of the hill, overlooking the great hemispherical amphitheatre. On stage, the orchestra were just getting ready to start, setting up their instruments and getting to their positions.
"Ah, excellent," Hoity said, rubbing his meaty hands together. "Turner! The cushion, if you please!"
"Right away, sir!" Time Turner nodded, setting the cushion down in the grass. Hoity gasped with relief as he plopped down onto his huge rump, his flab wobbling and jiggling violently. He set about making himself comfortable, allowing his gut to rest in his lap like a deflated parachute. As the music started up, he gestured impatiently for Time Turner to bring him the cooler.
Time Turner did so, getting both a big slab of cake and a glass of Canterlot Winery Merlot for his hungry boss. "Here we are, sir."
"Ah, excellent," Hoity said distractedly, grabbing the cake and proceeding to stuff his face with it. For all the decorum Hoity showed when he was at the side of the fashion runway, he showed none of it when he was eating. He didn't just eat—he consumed. He took huge, great bites, smearing chocolate around his face and lips as he did so, letting out small, orgasmic moans of pleasure with every bite. Humourously, this was interspersed with far more dainty sips from his wine glass.
It was rather awkward for Turner, who had to cross his legs as he sat next to him in order to hide his growing excitement at the spectacle. There was no denying it... he had the hots for his boss. He just wished that he could find the stones to tell him so... For now, though, he settled on watching him eat, while at the same time enjoying the fine sounds of the orchestra.
Eventually, the cake had disappeared, and Hoity slumped back.
"Urgh," he moaned, belching as he licked his fingers clean. His stomach growled loudly. "Oh... it seems that cake isn't sitting quite right. Turner!"
"Sir?" Turner asked.
"I need you to rub my belly to settle it down."
Turner's eyes widened. His jaw dropped. He looked at his boss as if he had just ordered him to drive him down to Tijuhayna for a filthy weekend.
"Turner!" Hoity snapped irritably.
"R-right away, sir!" With trembling hands, Turner got down on his knees and reached out with both hands, pressing into his boss's great big ball of a belly.
It was... heavenly. That was the only word to describe it. Hoity's gut was as warm as fresh duck down and as soft as a pillow to the touch, malleable under Turner's hands. He could almost feel the fat squishing about beneath Hoity's skin. He began to gently rub in little circles, hardly able to believe that one of his fantasies was coming true.
"Ah, that's it," Hoity murmured, nodding with satisfaction. "A little deeper, if you please."
Turner nodded mutely, feeling himself growing harder than ever as he pressed down deeper. Sweet Faust, he could feel his hands sinking into Hoity's fat, like they were being swallowed up by putty. A moan, almost inaudible, rose from his throat as he kept rubbing, pressing down as deep as he could.
Up above him, Hoity leaned back and enjoyed his massage. Ah yes, that was doing wonders to settle his belly. He could feel some of that troublesome gas being dislodged already. Just a bit more...
"Turner," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "I need you to press down, sharply."
"Sir," Turner mumbled, before tensing his arms and pushing into his boss's belly.
URRRRRRRRRRRRRAP.
The belch that arose from Hoity's mouth was loud enough for half the audience to turn their heads and stare at him with looks of either disgust or amusement.
"Ah, much better," Hoity smiled, stretching. "That'll do, Turner. Oh, and I believe I'm due for another sponge bath when we get back to my apartment."
"Y-yes, sir!" Turner said, beaming and nodding. That settled it—he was in love. He was in love with this glorious hunk of a stallion. He had to tell him so...
Turner looked around at the ponies around them. Probably best to wait until they were alone, though.
His mind jumped forward to bathing his boss, and he grinned to himself. Yeah... probably best to wait.
END
