Scootaloo squirmed, wishing she'd picked a better vantage point. The tree she had climbed was full of sharp twigs, poking and scratching her every time she moved. It wouldn't have been so bad if she at least had a pillow, but she had to abandon it in the last tree when Soarin' moved on unexpectedly.
Soarin' walked down the street, a heavy trenchcoat and hat obscuring his identity. He looked like a creep, sure, but nopony would ever suspect he was second-in-command of the Wonderbolts. Except for Scootaloo, who had been following ever since he left his penthouse. She wasn't stalking him, honest! It was just a little... 'Covert' research. The little yellow pegasus had finally come of age, and coincidentally, reached the minimum age requirement for the Wonderbolts. As Rainbow Dash's unofficial little sister, Scootaloo had thought she was a shoe-in.
That illusion was shattered a few days ago, when her Wonderbolts application was rejected for no reason. Well, they cited a few reasons, but they were all horseapples. So maybe she lacked experience. Maybe she'd never flown competitively, or even held a job involving flight. She was Wonderbolts material, and she knew it! Sure, she could spend a few years training, flying in competitions, get recognized on the amateur circuit... Or, she could follow Soarin' around and find some way of getting his attention. Maybe she'd find some way to impress him.
Unlikely, considering where they were. Soarin' had led her all across Ponyville, from his home on the fancy side of town, to the slightly less fancy side, to here. This neighborhood was the closest a small city like Ponyville had to a red light district. Whatever Soarin' was doing here, Scootaloo knew she'd have some grade-A blackmail material. Certainly enough for a position in the Wonderbolts reserve, if not becoming a full-fledged member of the main team.
That chance was coming fast. Soarin' finally stopped in front of an unremarkable brick building. The only signage on the building was a small neon XXX sign next to the door, as if having a smaller sign made the place any more respectable. Two muscular, mean-looking stallions were positioned outside the main door, and neither of them seemed happy to see a stranger in such an obvious disguise. One of them moved to block Soarin' as he approached, while the other inspected his wallet. In a moment, both of them stepped aside, and let the smaller stallion in.
Scootaloo weighed her options. She could follow him in through the front, watch him, maybe get a few photos of him being grinded on by some trashy mare... A fine plan, if she hadn't left her wallet at home to avoid being identified if she was caught. She doubted the bouncers would let her in with an IOU.
What could she do? Just wait around for him to leave? And miss this golden blackmail- Erm, intelligence gathering opportunity? No way. She had to get in there, one way or another.
The rear of the building was just as dingy as the front. The rear exit was flanked by a couple dumpsters, but nothing of any particular note. Probably locked. Scootaloo grasped the handle and pulled. She stumbled back as the door swung open unexpectedly. 'Who leaves the back door unlocked in this part of town?' She wondered, as she stepped inside.
Scootaloo stepped into a dimly lit hallway. House music pulsed softly through the walls, and there was a strange, greasy smell in the air. The walls were lined with unmarked metal doors. She walked up to one and jiggled the handle - Locked. She took a step back and tried the next one, and the next one. Just as she was about to give up, the first door swung open, and a massive blob of a mare stepped out.
The mare was huge, to say the least. She stood almost a full head taller than Scootaloo, and was probably three times as wide. Her whole body was like lumpy jello, jiggling and rippling as she waddled down the hall faster than anypony her size had a right to. Her clothing, a blanket-like t-shirt and jeans, was stained with sweat and colorful splatters. Her breasts swayed to and fro atop her barrel gut as she walked. Pinned to one of her massive breasts, a nametag read 'Eris, Manager'. All color drained from Scootaloo's face. She vaguely wished this blob would just crush her to death right now. It'd be easier than explaining herself to the police.
"Are you the new girl?" She asked when she got close. Scootaloo knew she recognized the voice, but from where? She couldn't worry about that now; She had to talk fast to avoid being found out.
"Um, y-yeah!" She answered, a little louder than she intended, "My name's, uh..."
"I know your name, it was on the application," Eris said roughly. She gestured at the door she'd just come out of, "Are you ready to get to work, or what?"
Scootaloo didn't have time to respond, as the obese mare placed a hand on her shoulder and started walking. "I, uh, well," She stammered, looking for an opportunity to slip away. The only thing between her and the door was about 600 pounds of fat, but no matter how hard she tried to shake it off, Eris's hand seemed glued to her shoulder.
"You're in luck, girlie, it's costume night," Eris continued, "Don't worry, we've definitely got something in your size."
Indignation rose in Scootaloo's throat. Maybe she wasn't perfectly fit, so what? She could afford to be chubby! She was going to lose it all as soon as she joined the Wonderbolts! "You're one to talk," She muttered, but the blobbish manager didn't seem to hear as she led the smaller pegasus through the open door.
The first thing she noticed was the mess. The dressing room was spacious and surprisingly well-lit, but all the humming florescant lights revealed were piles of garbage. Boxes and wrappers were stacked high in corners, while an empty Big Gulp lay discarded atop an old luggage trunk. One wall was lined with racks of clothes, the other with several very large vanity mirrors. In front of each was a stool the size of an armchair, the cushion compressed with two massive ass indents, as if Eris had taken turns sitting in each one for hours on end. What kind of strip club was this?
Scootaloo practically jumped when Eris spoke. "You get ready, I'll wait outside," She said, turning around and shutting the door behind her.
What to do now? The only other door was marked 'Stage'. Her only option, she figured, was to get dressed up and try slipping out the front. It admittedly wasn't the best plan, but she wasn't about to try slipping past that fat freak again. And hey, she might be able to spot Soarin' in the crowd. With that in mind, she began looking for a new outfit.
Glancing over the racks of clothes, Scootaloo wasn't entirely surprised to find all of them far too big. The smallest thing she found was a bright yellow latex 'Sexy Hazmat' costume in 3XL. No way that was fitting her. She moved on to the next rack and began rifling through the various hanging outfits. There had to be something she could wear, they couldn't all be comically oversized sheets, right? She brushed aside a boob sweater that was long enough to be a dress on her, and a pair of dirty, sweat-stained running shorts... She groaned and wiped her hand off on her shirt after touching it.
Aha! At the end of the rack, hidden behind a bag of fist-sized nipple pasties, was a small pair of panties. Maybe not panties; It looked like underwear made out of folded cloth. A bright blue mawashi, like a Neighponnese sumo wrestler! Strange, but Scootaloo wasn't about to look a gift pony in the mouth. She slipped off her pants, glad she wore an old tracksuit instead of anything she actually cared about, and slipped the mawashi on. She was pleasantly surprised to find the waistband was elastic, rather than something she'd have to tighten and tie up by hand. Her 'abs' hung an inch or so over the waist, but she could fix that. She inhaled, sucking it in, only to exhale twice as hard, letting her gut hang free. Too hard, she'd just have to hope nopony would notice.
She tossed off her shirt, and stuck a couple oversized pasties over her nipples. At least the room was warm, so she didn't freeze. Maybe a little too warm. Scootaloo wiped the sweat forming on her brow, and took a breath. Was it this stuffy in here before? By the time she reached the stage door, a sheen of sweat had formed across her body. She shivered, hating the swampy feeling. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and was immediately assaulted by lights and sounds.
Scootaloo stepped out on stage. The main room of the club was fairly small, with four or five small tables clustered around the stage, and a few small booths along the walls. In one corner, there was a bar, and the other held a small DJ booth, controlling the throbbing music pumping out from speakers around the club. The stage itself had two poles on opposite ends It was all fairly standard for a strip club, as far as Scootaloo knew, except for one thing.
Not a mare in the room could've weighed less than 300 pounds! Every pole was occupied by a fat mare. She thought she recognized one or two from her old job at Burger Princess. It was weird, alright - And what was weirder was the amount of stallions crowded around, throwing money at the biggest, jiggliest landwhales. This wasn't just any strip club, this was a BBW club! Why hadn't she been thrown out? Scootaloo's athletic physique stood out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of gyrating blubber on stage.
Scootaloo gulped, and began walking stiffly toward the nearest pole. 'Calm down, it'll be fine,' She thought to herself. Two nearby stallions got up and walked over when they saw her. One was wearing a business suit, the other a shirt and jeans, and both of them seemed curious about this new, thin mare in a club full of fatties. She swallowed the rising nervousness in her throat, placed one hand on the pole and spun around slowly, feet planted firmly on the floor. The stallions didn't seem particularly impressed. 'Good, maybe they'll leave and I can sneak out the back,' She thought, as she spun around again, quicker this time, and gave her tight, muscular ass a little smack.
'Alright, now I'll just...' She hopped up and straddled the pole between her legs, twirling as she slid slowly down.
It seemed to get easier over time, as Scootaloo got into the groove. Stripping wasn't so hard; In fact, it was kind of fun! It was like a whole-body workout, with an adoring audience to boot! She knew she was pushing her luck, that she really should just make a break for the exit, but some part of her just didn't want to go. The front door wasn't too far away. She could get there in seconds if she sprinted. She'd be halfway down the street before the bouncers had time to react. Despite this, the music, the crowd, the money, it was all too much - Scootaloo just couldn't bring herself to let go of the pole.
As she rode the pole, pausing occasionally to shake or clap her ass, Scootaloo began to feel strange. There was a pressure in her gut, like a balloon had been inflated and met resistance. It wasn't nervousness; If anything, she was too comfortable doing this. Glancing down, she didn't notice anything particularly amiss. Her stomach hung slightly over her mawashi, quivering like jelly as she moved. Maybe it was a little bigger than she'd realized before, but she could lose it, easy! In fact, as soon as she got home, she'd toss out all the junk food and start dieting. Scootaloo smiled at that thought, and gave her ass a hard clap, causing a loud, brassy fart to ring out.
She froze. The smell hung around her nostrils, hot and eggy. Her face turned pale as a ghost, and she turned to her adoring audience. If anything, the whiff of gas just made the assembled colts hornier, as several more bills fluttered onto the stage. One of them clearly had his hand in his pants, tongue lolling out as he audibly sniffed the tainted air.
'Okay, I really need to leave,' She thought, letting go of the pole and turning toward the back exit. She put one hoof forward, arching her leg, and slid one hand down her thigh. 'Wait a second-' Her body moved almost involuntarily, tracing a hand down her thigh, then giving her ass a small clap. The feeling wasn't as tight as before, in fact, it felt a little squishy. Another clap, and she could definitely feel it - Her ass was bigger! The surface wasn't smooth anymore, taking on a texture similar to cottage cheese. She could feel it jiggling like a bowl of jelly as she spun around and hopped back onto the pole.
Scootaloo struggled to move, but her muscles just wouldn't respond. Every time she tried to thrash, her body would take another pose, as if mocking her attempts at asserting control. Her insides were hot, boiling, and expanding. With every move, she could feel herself growing. The ring of chub around her gut seemed... Bigger. It seemed to grow with every swing, every jiggle. It was as if her potbelly was shaking itself loose from the thin body that had constrained it for so long. Her breasts swung freely, smacking into one another, stretching and fattening. Even her nipples seemed bigger, if the growing bumps beneath the increasingly-small pasties were anything to go by.
She was looking more and more like every other mare in the room, and there was nothing she could do about it. By her best estimate, she'd doubled in weight. Her belly was as big as a barrel, without any of the hardness, while her breasts were looking more and more like teats from a fat broodmare. Scootaloo spun around the pole, squatted down, and let out a thick, steaming fart on her adoring audience, driving them wild.
"Baby got back!"
"Yeah, shake it!"
"Scootaloo?"
Wait a second. Scootaloo recognized that voice. She turned swiftly to face the colts, hotdogging the pole between her huge, pliant cheeks. Her pendulous breasts swung around, smacking into one another with the momentum. There - In the middle of the crowd, she recognized him - Soarin! Surely he'd be able to help! She opened her mouth to call out, to beg him for help, but her tongue moved involuntarily.
"You want some, baby?" She purred, grabbing her hanging tits and giving them a squeeze. Celestia above, they were so soft! It was weird, but it felt kind of... Good? She shook her head. No, she wasn't about to give up, not when Soarin' was so close!
The blue stallion trotted over, reaching into his pocket, and tossed a 20 bit bill on stage.
'No, no - DAMMIT!' Scootaloo swore, but her voice just moaned sensually. She began to struggle again, but her body just twirled back around and kept dancing. A fart trumpeted out, coming from another mare, and Scootaloo impulsively pushed another one out to match it. The wet splorch that came next sent the colts into an uproar. Soarin' struggled to pull a wad of bills from his wallet, before finally giving up and just tossing his whole wallet on stage. In one deft motion, Scootaloo crouched down and stuffed the whole thing in her ass cleavage.
Scootaloo remained in this half-crouch, placing her hands on her thighs. For some reason, she felt more comfortable like this than standing. Her belly hung heavily between her legs, swinging heavily as she took a step forward, towards the edge of the stage, then hopped back as a colt reached out to smack it. Her fingers sank inches into the soft surface, only stopped by a hard layer of muscle. Of course, she realized, she was a sumo! She needed leg muscle!
'No, no, that's not right,' She muttered internally, 'Wings, I need wing muscle, everything else is secondary.' She gave her wings a little flex, but there was no response. Her wings were as weak as they had been years ago. The muscles she'd worked so hard to cultivate atrophied steadily, leaving her as flightless as the day she was born. All that strength, she realized, was in her legs now, letting her stomp around the stage for the enjoyment of some perverted colts.
Her whole body jiggled and quaked as she stepped forward and back, grabbed the pole, and spun. Her thighs, powerful as they were, were as thick as tree trunks, squishing against a belly that hung nearly to the floor. She noted, dimly, that one of her pasties had fallen off, revealing a plump, thumb-sized nipple standing erect, twitching up and down as she stomped.
As she did her strange sumo dance, another tingling feeling came over her bloated midsection. Scootaloo braced herself for another bout of growth, this time sure to ruin any chances of losing weight, but that never came. Instead, the tinging began to descend, and she felt something inside her shift.
There was a pressure on her vagina, and one hand slid into her mawashi. Grimacing internally even as her face grinned, Scootaloo's fingers spread her pussy lips apart, and she felt something long and thick sliding out. 'What the-' She thought, only to be cut off as a wave of ecstasy shot through her body.
Something thick and black poked out from under her gut, pressing into her fat. It was a cock, fully formed, which had descended from her vagina. One hand slid up the shaft, and a glob of hot precum dripped from the end and splashed onto the stage. Within seconds, the three colts were scrambling over one another to get it. "Calm down, boys," She said huskily, "There's plenty more where that came from!"
Somewhere, in the back of her, mind, the old Scootaloo was screaming. She wasn't some fat stripper! She was Wonderbolt material! Her mental cries grew progressively weaker, as her new personality took hold. 'This... This isn't right...' She whimpered internally, but there was nothing she could do. The will to struggle was gone, overpowered by these new sensations. Scootaloo wrapped her hands around her growing cock, not bothering to fight the urge anymore, and gave it a long, slow stroke.
More pre leaked out, dropping with a wet splat onto the stage. The stallion in the business suit made a lunge for it, only for the other to grab him and attempt to push him off. The two fell out of their chairs and began fighting, punching and kicking one another over the right to taste some of Scootaloo's hot, musky pre. Soarin', meanwhile, ignored the mere splatters, placed both hands around Scootaloo's magnificent girth, wrapped his lips around the head, and gave it a long, hard suck.
Scootaloo moaned from the stimulation, pins and needles shooting up her spine. Soarin' slurped directly from the tap, giving her shaft a slow stroke. She placed a hand on his, and guided him along, while her other hand tweaked at her exposed nipple. A little drop of milk squirted out, and she gave it a taste - Sour, just the way she liked it. Another wave of pleasure shot through her body, and a wet, rancid fart splattered out of her ass.
That proved too much, and Soarin' was bowled back by the force of Scootaloo's ejaculation. Strands of hot, steaming cum shot across his face and chest as he stumbled back, tripped over the two fighters, who seemed to have knocked one another out already, and landed on his ass. Scootaloo couldn't think, could barely stand, and collapsed onto her soft, cushioned ass as waves of ecstasy pulsed through her body.
She sat there, warm in the afterglow, feeling her old self washed away. The dim, pleading voice in the back of her mind finally fell silent, snuffing out all that was left of the old, boring Scootaloo. The new Scootaloo wasn't some stupid athlete, she was dancer, a sumo, an unashamed hedonistic glutton. She wasn't going to be in the Wonderbolts - But she was going to be in a Wonderbolt.
"Mmph, Soarin''," Scootaloo purred, "Maybe we can find someplace a little more... Private?"
Soarin' looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. He licked the semen from his lips and belched, then gave a slow, lazy nod. It was going to be a long night.
In the back security room, a fat mare watched the main room monitor and laughed. She snapped her fingers, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Author's Note
Commission for ShadowofDreams23