Post-Picnic Party
Written by Septia.
-Ffrrwwwhht An applause of posterior pudge converged with the huff of fumes winding its way into the night air.
“Ooofh. Ooo, ooo, I know who that one was.”
“Hmm, how about giving me a chance to guess this time, Pinkie?”
“Better not be a slowpoky, Buttered, don't know how much longer I can keep holding them, or the answer, in~.”
The yellow stallion gave Pinkie a soothed smirk, easing the motions of his hooves swirling the serpentine droves of tummy tub, resting on the double hoof-span flour sack of Pinkie's abdomen. -Gwnnnmb- The chub concaved into craters; cotton candy bulk devouring his margarine slab.
“Fffnf, Mmwff,” Buttered buffet sniffed, with his muzzle held high he sampled the humidity of the lakeside-air, chilled by the veil of night. Intermingled with this laid another moisture, a warmth from a pungent brew of mint leaves and lime stock served in a well used sauna.
“Could it be,” Buttered pondered, seeing Pinkie's head bob in restrained excitement, “Nessy Gouge?”
Pinkie scooched up her rump towards the sky – supported by her tail – and brassed off a fluttering rear belch of oil smeared vibrations -Bbrrrwwppwrrft- unleashing a gale-wind of the same tart, citrus flatulence she had been storing in her haunches.
“Yepperstooti, there's no contest about it because everypony is the best at being themselves~,” Pinkie Pie announced. She flung her hooves in the air with enough vigour to heave her gullet upwards where she laid on the beach -Bhhwnngoslh- and bobbing back into place as a flowerbud in a breeze -Bhsls- -Bwllchs-.
“She is having such a super time in the tummy party she she even wrote a song, “Pinkie said brushing over her bellyy, bulldozing blobs and bulged decorating the surface of coral hued dough, “and it is played with bellllie rubs~,” she invited in a singing tone.
Buttered coughed out a chuckled, and set back to driving his hooves in kneading pasterns down the mare’s gut, playing notes to nessy's aria in fart-minor -Ppffrth- -brrlslph- -Pfwt-.
Out over the lake shimmied a reflection of of a pink hump with a yellow arch clinging close; reflection joined by a ballroom of twinkling stars and the nights own beaming crescent of a smile. The yellow streaks of poofy mist lingered in the air. The puffs of smog bundling together in amber clouds or dispersing to saturate the air in their intoxicating stench of fried taffy and ponut pickled pony paté.
“…And Chocolate Swirl was a picnic highlight, that wasn't her first name but by colt they should have been, just so-...”
Buttered idly listened to Pinkie as he drove his hooves into the sack of tummy chub ahead of him, his hooves smooshing into the blankets of fluffy fat encasing the amalgamation of bulges he stomach housed; layers of old friends hugging around new new friends, eager to meld them into the rolling sea of chub.
Buttereed's hooves navigated this sea with experience, diving in at soft patches to hear a broil -Bbrhhtsl- strut up below, until the skin stretched and trampolined his hooves back to the surface. Once situated safely one more, he let them roam and hug around mounds of chub until they found the next point of tension. The blubber weaved a rhythm, contracting so its edges steeled like putty, to then swell, engorging in all directions, pudge sprawling over her sides in extended love handles and engorged dunes piling over her hips, only to sluggishly withdraw like toothpaste retracting into the tube.
The tummy periodically wrapped around Buttered's hooves as he messaged the pulsing orb, the lumps breathing and distending to aid him in moulding and kneading in to reach her core of sludgy friend stew. -Bbwng- -Hbfhgbt- The stomach ruffled and warped also to the thrashing within, protrusions of hooves and flanks contorted the surface in silhouettes of the friendly meals resting in Pinkie's taffy-churner, causing counter trembles that melded with the stomach's own rhythmic breathing; the result was a display of intertwining, malforming flubber bales.
Buttered laid mesmerised by the motions, trailing along the morphing silhouettes as the chug rose to hug him, and sinking his whole hooves in around the gut to wedge the droves back in, rubbing down stacks of distending flesh and silencing the rustle of of voices grunting below
“Rmmgs, mmwprg, wwdmfmth.”
~ 1 ~
“Hamf, told you guys the picnic would be hhamf... more exciting in this new, venueaaaaaammmf-.” Pinkie mumbled, holding back yawns until one came to interrupt her, cyan eyes closing to reveal a growing gape of a gob.
Buttered froze as the brush of gullet breeze washed through his cyan mane. The gate of pearly molars parted to invite a gaze at the mauve pit in the back of the mare's throat, lined with vines of gossamer slobber tethering roof, tongue, and teeth; a spiderweb down which three friends had already tumbled tonight. He marvelled at the convulsions of the throat leading down the oesophagus. Flesh tensed and relaxed in a tango – as if they promised him a journey lined from beginning to end with hugs, as intimate as could be. He followed his muzzle, peering deeper...
“Mmpfgth.” -BWBwgnsng- a roadblock cropped up between him and the maw, a stomach-lining caricature of a face extended in a domed lump from the higher abdomen, the valley where the mouth should be warping and contorting as he muffled breath came muffled from the bulge.
“Mphaa, oohoo, I can feel that one, seems all's not fudge and syrup down in tummy town yet,” Pinkie announced.
Buttered snickered, embracing the face from both side and cradling rolls of tummy chub over it, kneading it down onto a canyon to sink the head into the depth.
“So, which one was this?” he asked.
Pinkie arched herd head back, then flung it up with a trumpeting -Bhruuaalllpth- her lips flapping as the laces of a ballroom dress, pelting slaps of slobber in a cone fro her muzzle -Shhrllpth- -Spmmtwth-. And… out with the echoes of he belch flew just such a dress-skirt, slotting around the stallion's head like a novelty lionmane.
“Does, That, answer your question?” Pinkie giggled and dug her hooves down her stomach. “Mmaaa, Dosie Dough's a real party animals if she got so much oopmh to her, bet she'd be great dough for a double layered birthday cake,” Pinkie ensured as she moulded the blubber between her and Buttered into a vaguely layered sculpture of a cake, the tummy's own reverberation and convulsions gradually bulldozing the droves back into the place.
Without the belch gale to keep the dress fluttering, it slumped around Buttered's, the petals of a wilting sunflower. “She, sure was a lively addition to the picnic.”
-Ghrbrlsltuh- -Chhrlrlsthc- -Bghrhsgl- The gullet gurgled and grumbled so Buttered's hooves trembled.
“She, was,” Pinkie said with emphasise for correction.
-Ppprrwhhlth- A gale of putrefied dairy and unearthed friendships painted the air, a plume of flatulence its brush. Buttered breathed it in, ta sigh of warmth leaving his lips, along with the air of a mulched of a tummy boiled friend, and his hopes of joining it.
-BHFhrsl- -Ggurbsllw- Gurgles heralded an array of droves to crop up in sailing tummy bulges, Buttered's hooves seeking out each one, kneading down contours of scapulars, femurs and clumps of meat. To his tough touch the stomach held no resistance, bending inwards as if the stallion was submerging his legs in a pool of non-stick silt, and letting go with only a light -Bwnnngs- bob of the of the rustled abdomen gelatine.
“Mmnf, mms… wmm?” Pinkie hummed before a -PPFbbrrkklrt- rumbled out her flank with a flapping of a beached salmon.
“Ehm, em,” Buttered mumbled, moulding the tummy idly into, “Sounded like your, exit could use a touch up?” he asked in a calm tone.
“Thanks for offering, party clean-up is a lot like a party itself: it is much more fun with the help of a few friends,” Pinkie explained, sharing party wisdom as she patted her tummy -Bttwp- which reverberated as an air bloated tire under her claps.
Buttered nodded, and scurried away from the gut as he noticed he'd unconsciously sculpted of the immediate tummy flab.
The stallion nestled down to ground level, crawling under the ballooned mark thighs, where a shadow fell upon him. He threw a glance at the meaty spire rising from the mare's crotch, a deep hue of rosy mauve moulded partway into the abdominal bulk residing over the trunk. Below dangled a pair of dark seedpods, puffy and squishy as a pair of stuffed gumdrops. The stallion snaked his way closer, lining his hooves with the crease separating the creamy strawberry buns.
-Skrllrlsth- A crinkle of sweat rippling through, as if prying a taped party poster off the wall, a chubby doughnut greeting him with a crinkle and whistle of -Pfllrt-. Buttered savoured the curls of orange mist, seeing the splatter of musky sweat expelled with the smog bubbling through and the condensation from the springing orbs above.
A thread of inhibition snapped in his mind, and the stallion dove his muzzle straight into the canyon of rump roasted salt. -Splltsh- His head wedged in between the cheeks, moulding after his outlines, enveloping him as a coating of strawberry fluff. -Ddft- He felt the thud from the jiggly orbs below bumping into his head, pushing him to the ground, inviting him into the doughy curtain. Moments were lost letting the lard rich air circulate through his lungs, deep breaths taking from the quivering pucker, and puffs of -Bhrrft- powdered his muzzle with breezes of candy based tar exhaust.
His tongue painted strokes of saliva across her bum that swabbed up grime and sticky must, leaving clean cheeks he eagerly nuzzled. An air of wilted lettuce candied in grainy caramel wafted through the poot-chute, bathing him in a monsoon of growling smog -Ppbfbwrrlwth-.
“Oosh, I could feel that cocoa puff spin my insides in a chocolate twist,” Pinkie noted, scooching up her thighs on each side of the helpful stallion, clamping him in the clutches of bouncy booty blubber.
All entered darkness, a musk of cocoon candy distilled into liquor permeated Buttered's muzzle. Warm pink flesh undulated around him, his snot laid slick from dipping right into the pudgy cesspot. He closed his eyes, dreaming, marinading In the sensations of the Pink walls claiming him, cocooning him, making him one... -Ppftth- Then a huff of smog flushed through his hair, and the cheeks parted to grant him a crisp breath of the midnight air that shattered his dreamscape.
“Hey, you cutie doof down there,” he heard Pinkie's voice, slowly clambering up with his hooves sunken into her tummy, peeking up over the rosy mountain. “The girls are gonna have their hooves full with aaawmf. Mm the after party, what do you say, wanna be snuggle buddies, do ya?” she asked, her mane springing up with her nods, framing the inviting leer of those those blue lakes in her eyes, a faint reflection of the starry sky and high moon beaming from her smile.
Buttered cleared his throat, eyelids hanging lazy a he nodded. “My pleasure, what are friend's for?” Buttered added, and leaned down to plant a smooch on the glistening orbs, -Smmsch- a fragrance of licorice dabbed on his lips, savouring the salt as he slumped up, onto her belly, wading forth with an avalanche of -BFHhrslg- -Ghhrwbhgurlt- -Chhrlrlsght- quaking beneath him, massaging and pancaking the gut around his frame.
Pinkie clasped her hooves around him, hauling him forwards, their muzzles booping into each other -Dthpp-. She giggled, he snickered, the belly churned and kneaded a paste of pony pudding and fermented fog.
The pair slumped into an embrace, Pinkie on her side – sloughing tummy providing Buttered with a heated blanket to wrap into – right next to the soothed, yet sometimes quivering, stallion. A blanket of silence swept over the lake. Only occasionally disturbed by a coiling wisp of cotton candy jerky vaporous -Pffrwth-; the air polluted in bulbous yellow, and pink billows.
