Weekend Jobs and Big Boy Blobs
Weekend Jobs and Big Boy Blobs
It was approaching ten o’clock in the morning in Cloudsdale, and already the cloud city was bathed in bright, warm sunlight which heralded the arrival of a hot, sunny day. As it lit up the cloud buildings and structures with a dazzling white glow, it also shone through the gap in the curtains in a particular bedroom window. The light crept across the floor, highlighting some discarded socks and underwear, as well as several Wonderbolts posters on the walls. Beneath the posters was a sagging double bed, where a large lump lay under the covers. A single bare blue foot peeked out from beneath them, twitching slightly as its owner was tormented by the light.
“Ugh... come on, Solaris, it’s Saturday, just a few more minutes...” a colt’s voice pleaded as the bed’s occupant buried his head further into his pillow. Between the incessant light and his uncomfortably full bladder, however, he knew that any further sleep was a lost cause.
Letting out a frustrated groan, the colt extracted his face from his pillow, revealing a pair of fat, cyan-furred cheeks and a thick second chin, along with a spiked rainbow mane. He then kicked off the covers, revealing a truly impressive pile of pegasus flesh. Where there might have been a slim stomach, there was a big blue keg of a gut with a cavernous belly button and sizable love handles. Where there might have been thin legs and arms, there were bingo wings and holiday-ham thighs. And where there might have been a flat chest, there was a pair of soft, jiggling moobs. All of this was barely contained within a tight white vest and an outsized pair of Wonderbolts boxers, which were barely holding together at the seams. Although it couldn’t be seen, a name was written on the label on the inside of the waistband—Rainbow Blitz.
Blitz grunted as he swung his legs out of bed, heaving his bulk to his feet. He yawned and stretched out, causing his belly to wobble as he thrust it forward. As he did so, it let out a loud gurgle.
“Yeah, I hear ya,” Blitz told it, giving it a pat as he waddled to the bathroom. “I’ll getcha something as soon as I’m done in here.”
After he’d relieved himself, Blitz took a moment to examine himself in the bathroom mirror, running a thick finger over the zits that had cropped up on his cheeks. As he did so, he noticed just how far his finger sank into his soft cheek flesh. Out of curiosity, he placed himself on the bathroom scales next to him, watching the numbers as they span.
“309 pounds,” he said with a whistle, chuckling as he turned on the shower. “Looks like I’m not getting any smaller.”
Indeed, he wasn’t. Blitz, along with his best friend Butterscotch, was a textbook example of obesity. What had started as a bit of puppy fat when he was a colt had ended with him being among the heaviest kids at Canterlot High. Not that Blitz was complaining—he’d always maintained that he was all about body positivity. As far as he was concerned, he was fat and proud.
Once his morning shower was over and done with, Blitz stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Once again, his belly let out an insistent growl.
“Yeah, I know, alright?” Blitz snapped as he entered his bedroom, letting the towel drop to the floor and searching through his closet. “I know. Five more minutes, that’s all I ask.”
Flicking through his selection of clothes, Blitz settled on a blue zip-up hoodie and a pair of navy sweatpants. The outfit was supposed to look baggy, but it was a very snug fit on the big blue butterball. Even with his belly sucked in, he could only just get the zipper to close, and a sliver of blue-furred belly was visibly peeking out over the waistband of his pants. It seemed he was going to have to go clothes shopping... again.
Panting slightly from the exertion of dressing himself, Blitz gave his belly a pat. “Alright, now we can go get something to eat.”
Blitz squeezed through his doorframe and lumbered downstairs, feeling his heavy padding steps sink into the cloud stairway beneath him. He could feel his love handles brushing against the wall on one side and the stair rail on the other. On said wall, a row of photos could be seen of Blitz himself, revealing that he hadn’t always been as massive as he was then. A picture of him at age six, when he had gotten his cutie mark, showed a wiry, almost scrawny young colt beaming at the camera. Starting at age ten, however, he started to become pudgier and rounder as the years passed, until one came to the most recent photo, taken on his birthday. In that photo, the colt smiling at the camera was just as huge as the colt panting as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“That you, son?” a female voice called from the kitchen.
“It’s me, Mom,” Blitz replied as he waddled into the kitchen, greeting the similarly furred and maned mare standing at the kitchen sink.
“Morning, honey,” she said, turning to look at him with a smile. “You sleep okay?”
“Like a rock,” Blitz replied while opening the cupboard doors and grabbing a box of Pop-Tarts. “Frigging starving right now, though.”
“What else is new?” his mom quipped. “Oh, I ironed your work uniform last night, by the way.”
“Ah, cool,” Blitz said, licking his lips as he stuck the Pop-Tarts in the toaster. “Thanks.”
Not too far away from Blitz’s home, meanwhile, another colt of a similar age had awoken. The colt yawned, brushing his bubblegum-pink mane out of his eyes with a yellow-furred hand... a very pudgy-looking hand, at that. This colt was Butterscotch, Rainbow Blitz’s best friend, and a colt in very similar physical condition.
Butterscotch stretched out as best he could, feeling pretty confined in the bunk bed he shared with his little sister, Aura Winds. As the elder sibling, Butterscotch had asserted his right to the top bunk, which sagged dangerously close to the bottom under his immense bulk. He didn’t hear Aura down below, which could only mean that she was already awake.
Butterscotch took a moment to compose himself, before beginning the slow, careful process of extracting himself from his bed. He stretched out a meaty leg, carefully swinging it out and manoeuvring himself into a sitting position, before pushing his bulk off the bed. The bed creaked, bowing out as he landed on the cloud floor with a soft whump, kicking up a couple of small puffs of cloud under his plump feet.
Butterscotch yawned again, placing both hands on his fleshy back as he stretched out, working out a crick in his double-chinned neck from the night before. As always, a vast mound of butter-yellow flesh and fur blocked his view of his feet when he looked down at himself. He cupped his sizable moobs with both hands, biting his lip as he let them flop back down.
“Same old Butterscotch,” he said to himself. “Or Blubberscotch, as Dumb Belle would put it.”
He shook his head, trying to put the bully’s words to the back of his mind as he grabbed a T-shirt hanging off the back of the bedroom door. As he pulled the shirt over his head, he felt the fabric pull tighter and tighter around his midsection, finally stopping just above his deep belly button.
“Ugh... guess that’s as good as it gets,” he said, wincing slightly as he felt the shirt dig into him. Before he could grab a pair of pants, he heard a buzz from his bedside table.
“Hm? My phone?” he said, reaching over and taking hold of the device with a pudgy yellow hand. The screen showed that he had a new text message from Cliff, another friend of his and Blitz’s.
Gonna go c Blitz at Hay Burger 2day at 2 p.m., he read. U wanna come?
Butterscotch thought it over for a moment. Burgers weren’t exactly conducive to losing weight, but grabbing lunch with friends seemed like a very pleasant way of spending a Saturday afternoon. After some thought, he fired off a reply, manipulating the buttons carefully with his thick sausage fingers.
Sure, y not, he replied. As he did so, his stomach growled and gurgled.
“Yeah yeah, breakfast, I know...” he said. “Just as soon as I get some pants on.”
“Blitz!” a grey-furred pegasus mare with “Stratus Spring, Assistant Manager” etched on the badge pinned to her shirt called out. “Blitz, I need you up here on the registers!”
Blitz wiped away the sweat forming on his forehead from the heat of the fryers, adjusting the Hay Burger hat on his head. “On my way, ma’am!” he called back, sucking in his stomach as he squeezed past his coworkers in the kitchen, apologising as he brushed against them. He had already earned the undying enmity of one of the fry cooks after the massive colt bumped into him with his belly and sent a full pan’s worth of fries scattering over the floor.
“’Scuse me, pardon me...” he said as he shuffled out of the kitchen, panting as he faced Stratus. He was uncomfortably aware of how his stomach was distinctly hanging out of his shirt, even though it was both the largest size available and had been altered to fit his frame.
“Come on, Blitz,” Stratus said. “Let’s kick this into gear, shall we? We’ve got a whole lot of customers out here that need serving out here!”
“Of course, ma’am,” Blitz said, nodding and putting on his best subservient face. “I’ll get right on it.”
“I should hope so,” Stratus said. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off.
“Yeah, I bet you’ll be in your office,” Blitz muttered to himself, scowling as he stood as close to the back of the counter as his stomach would allow. “Sitting in there with your feet kicked up while the good little weekend worker slaves his a... heyyyyy there!” he said, putting on a big smile for his first customer.
As Blitz took the customer’s order, he noticed them openly staring at his belly as he punched their order into the register. This was not an uncommon occurrence, and it was one he was used to by now. Honestly, he didn’t blame them. When you weighed as much as he did, you were bound to attract a few stares. And of course, there were the obvious jokes about how a weekend job at the local Hay Burger was perfect for a colt of his size... those never got old.
As Blitz worked himself into a rhythm, he noticed a familiar shade of yellow out of the corner of his eye. He took a look, and smiled as he saw a familiar face. Heh, speaking of colts my size...
Indeed, Butterscotch himself was lumbering through the doors, his side fat brushing the frame. As he entered, Blitz saw that he wasn’t alone. Following close behind was another familiar face, in the form of a red-furred slab of muscle with a crew-cut mane and short-clipped tail.
Standing at a hair under five feet tall and built with solid muscle, Cliff was what many would refer to as a “shortstack.” It seemed unlikely that a little powerhouse like him could be friends with a pair of lardballs like Rainbow Blitz and Butterscotch, but in fact that was exactly the case. The three had been on nodding terms in the corridors for a while before then, but hadn’t become actual friends until about a year prior. As Blitz recalled, he had been getting something out of his locker when he overheard Dumb Belle and Nets making a remark about how Cliff looked like “an over-muscled trash can.” When Blitz had turned around, he had seen Cliff standing there with clenched fists and jaw, looking ready to knock the two bullies’ lights out there and then. Blitz had decided to step in, knowing that the two wouldn’t be nearly as keen to keep their taunting up if it was two against two. Once the two bullies had left, Blitz and Cliff had gotten to talking, and from that little seed, a fine friendship had blossomed.
Blitz took a look at the clock, before coming to a decision. “Nimbus! Cover for me, I’m going on break!”
“Oh man,” Blitz said, sighing happily as he sat at a table with his two pals. “You guys have no idea how good it feels to get off my feet.”
Across from him, Cliff chuckled. “Seriously?” he said in a surprisingly deep voice for somepony of his stature. “I’d have thought they’d be used to carrying that fat ass of yours by now.”
“Yeah, well...” Blitz paused to take a bite out of his double bacon cheeseburger before continuing. “You’ve never had to work for Stratus Spring. That mare is a damn slave driver. Enough’s never enough for her.”
“At least it’s only on the weekends,” Butterscotch offered, taking a sip of the 128-ounce soda in his grasp. Both he and Blitz were wedged quite snugly into their seats. Their capacious rumps filled the red padded chairs of the booth almost to capacity, with Cliff finding himself balanced precariously on the edge as he was pushed out by Butterscotch’s love handle. Both colts also found their bellies to be dug quite tightly into the table, albeit not uncomfortably so.
“That’s true,” Blitz nodded. “And besides... if I’m ever feeling down, I can still ride high on the memory of Scotch crushing Dumb Belle.”
Both Cliff and Blitz laughed heartily at the memory of Butterscotch’s faux pas at their swimming lesson, while Butterscotch himself merely blushed and smiled.
“She still can’t show her face around anypony,” Cliff said, patting Butterscotch on the fleshy side. “You did the world a favour, Scotch.”
“Heh, I guess...” Butterscotch said. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you guys—I’m getting a weekend job of my own next week.”
“No kidding?” Blitz asked.
“At the convenience store on Cumulonimbus Street,” Butterscotch explained. “They agreed to hire me as a cashier there.”
“Hang on,” Blitz said, looking at Butterscotch with a sincere look. “Is that the same convenience store that does those huge slushies?”
“And the jumbo hot dogs,” Butterscotch nodded.
“Alright,” Blitz grinned, poking Butterscotch with a fat finger. “It’s settled, dude. You need to get free slushies and hot dogs for both me and Cliff.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Cliff retorted. “Unlike you two, I have a figure to keep.”
“Easy there, buddy,” Blitz said, rolling his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Dumb Belle.”
“Um... speaking of Dumb Belle...” Butterscotch said. He pointed, and Blitz craned his thick neck to see the filly herself standing at the counter.
“Oh, don’t tell me she followed us here,” Cliff muttered.
“She can’t be here to eat,” Blitz remarked, smirking. “Her thighs would probably explode if she-”
Blitz’s smirk vanished in an instant, his eyes widening as he saw what Dumb Belle had under her arm.
“Is that a job application?” he said flatly.
“What?” Butterscotch asked.
“She’s carrying a job application,” Blitz said, his voice rising slightly. “A job application.”
“Well, well,” Cliff said, smiling. “Looks like Daddy made his little princess go out and get a taste of the real world.”
“So...” Butterscotch giggled slightly. “She’s gonna be your new coworker, Blitz?”
Blitz didn’t reply as he continued to stare at his tormentor, who was now speaking to Stratus. As he stared at the two, he tried to imagine dealing with one of them during the school week, and then both of them on the weekends...
I wonder if the coffee shop is taking applications.
END