Chapters View Online
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Preface - The History of Equestria - Volume 4, Late Celestial Age to Diarchy Reborn
Abridged excerpt from - The History of Equestria, Volume 4, Late Celestial Age to the Diarchy Reborn.
Between the period of 164-162 BLR (Before Luna Return), Equestria began to face a growing crisis. Due to mounting issues with weather production, unstable solar output from unknown magical or astrological interference and a rampancy in plant related diseases appearing rapidly, it had led to sweeping crop failure across the land. No pony was safe from the shortage, save the most opulent and rich individuals, with either giant store houses and cellars, or simply able to buy the limited stock in bulk from with black market deals or simply muscling their way into the few productive farms, bribing them for the best quality food.
Depravity and hunger swept the land. Virtually all assets of Equestrian life came tumbling to a halt. Figure 37 is a period artwork from this time. The monotone colours, the vivid emotions displayed by the pony, expressing their anguish as a reflection on society as a whole. Violence and animosity grew into a raging inferno as the populace looked for somepony or something to place the blame upon. Some blamed Discord, who suspected his influence was leaking into the world as revenge for his imprisonment. Many blamed Nightmare Moon for the same reasons. Indeed, their anger was aimless, and fruitless, leading to destruction when riots flared up for any number of reasons.
Princess Celestia, as an act to restore normality, and free her ponies from the grip of crippling famine that hadn’t been seen since the original tribes had their squabbles over 2000 years prior, made a decree. Whoever could develop a solution to the nationwide famine, would be rewarded with riches and rewards beyond their wildest imagination. As long as it was proven to work and it could work for a long time, then they would receive the reward. Any cons artist or tricksters attempting to make profits from the crisis would be punished harshly.
And so, the hunt was on for a solution. Magical institutes and schools placed their bets upon the raw arcane world to provide their answer. Meanwhile, the developing chemical industry believed that chemistry and industrial might would be able to do the same work as complex spells, without the need for unicorn application. The groups toiled over many months, feverishly working towards the same goal, just in opposite manners. Indeed, they found solutions.
The professors and doctorate at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns created a new enchantment but found it could only affect a single organism at one time. The group was led by a stallion by the name Moirax Morag, an aspiring doctorate, who had a passion for flora. A team of Earth Ponies and Pegasi at MACI (Manehatten Agricultural Chemical Industries) developed what came to be known as fertiliser. Utilising Nitrogen fixation, it allowed production of ammonia, which provides essential nutrients for plants. This was headed by Grudge Haber, who drew up the blueprints for the original machine. The only issue with the fertiliser was that it only provided the nutrients but didn’t protect against harsh conditions.
If by chance, Haber and Morag met in a bar in Canterlot, both trying to drown their frustrations in expensive alcohol. Haber had just presented the current work to Celestia, much to her dismay, and decided to stay the night in the city before making the return trip. Overhearing the others drunken rants, the two began to discuss their findings. And out of their drunken minds, they found the solution the world over would thank them for. Using the fertiliser as a base, the two found that they could bind the Herbimancy spell to the ammonia. They had finally cracked it. After finalising the function in the school labs, they compiled their data. What they presented to Celestia, would shape the following centuries.
The tested plants were highly resistant to heat and cold, they could tolerate dry conditions and general climatic fluxes which would have crippled most conventional crops and stunted any harvest. However, the most impressive effect was on the growth of the plant. Rapid growth, now common in everything touched by the miracle solution, led to shorter and shorter growing seasons for the farmers, leading to them having exceedingly large amounts of stock. Soon, store houses were groaning with bumper crops that managed to spoil at a much slower rate.
As such, the markets had to adjust to the influx of food, cutting the prices of everything, from carrots, strawberries, apples as they flooded the market with all their excess produce. Wheat, oats and other grasses and grains too grew rapidly, with no disease at all. Ponies from all walks of life could afford to fill their houses with as much food as they wanted. In the span of just a week, the price of a loaf of bread went from 100 bits, to ¼ bits. The two were given royal honours, and enough money to finance the production and subsequent distribution of the magi-fertiliser nationwide.
And so, Morag-Haber became national heroes. Their product filled barns and sheds across the country and led to bumper crop after bumper crop. Food was so cheap that everypony ate more and more. As this rampant consumption increased, ponies noticed that they were looking rather rotund in comparison. At the time, not much was thought about it. Afterall, most creatures had been deathly thin only months prior, filling out wasn’t exactly a problem. However, this turned from just simply getting a little chubby, to a full-on trend of excess weight. Everyone was growing fat, but nopony cared too much.
Even once conditions returned to normal, there was no incentive to not use Moirag-Haber. And so, the cycle of excess growth, purchase and consumption continued, as it has done till this very day. Fat and obesity were, and still is, common. With no obvious changes to society since, it states to claim that this will continue into the foreseeable future. Coupled with automation and increasing technological and thaumilogical fidelity, projected average weight will continue to rise exponentially. See Figure 38. Ponies have theorised that sooner, rather than later, this tipping point will be reached, and weight will skyrocket across the country. When this occurs, will remain to be seen.
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Day One - A Temporary Solution
“Oh no no, I could swear there was some more caster sugar in here!” It was a fine Wednesday morning in the bustling city of Manehatten. Ponies were going about their day in the pleasant weather, either at work or at school. One such mare, however, was having some rather unfortunate problems. An Earth Pony by the name of Berry Pie currently had her head and most of her torso jammed into a small cupboard, looking desperately for an ingredient she needed. “No caster, no granulated, no demerara, oh this won’t do at all!” With some effort, she managed to extricate herself from the wooden frame, the edges of her arms being squeezed in the gap.
Berry Pie was a typical individual in modern Equestria. Maybe slightly fatter than the average, given her occupation and love for confectionary. Whereas the average weight of ponies hung around the 250 pound mark, she was considerably wider. Just last week, she had hit 350 pounds, an achievement she revelled in. Currently, she was dressed in extra, extra-large work top and trousers, with a tablecloth like apron draped over her monumentally large gut. Easily the largest part of her, that jiggling slab of blubber rolled the bottom of her shirt up, the buttons straining around the thick mass of rolls and folds that sagged past her crotch and to her thighs.
With each motion she made with her body, it would act like a pendulum, continually fighting against the mass of blubber constraining it. This was somewhat counterbalanced by the pair of flabby ass cheeks jutting out. Like a pair of basketballs slapping against a gymnasium floor, so too did they slap against one another, light clapping emanating when those globes collided jucily. These were supported by column-like legs, sporting doughy slabs of cellulite, forcing her to adopt a waddle whenever she walked.
A well-rounded pair of breasts pressed firmly against her top, the orbs sloshing as her fruitless search continued, as she pushed bags and boxes of baking ingredients aside to try and find some sugar. Alas, she came away empty handed, a tint of embarrassment and slight frustration present on her cherubic, wobbling cheeks. Extracting herself from the shelving, she gave a small huff, as she wracked her brains, thinking of where she could get some sugar from at short notice before the day began.
“Stupid stupid! I can’t believe that we are out. I’m normally so careful.” Glancing up, she looked at the clock, noting the time. This did little to ease her worries, as every tick of the hand brought her closer to the start of the day, to the start of having nothing to sell but day-olds. Drumming her fingers against a nearby worksurface, she suddenly had a thought. “Wait… what if I was to use my special ingredients? No… that would be stupid… would it… hmm.” Tapping herself on the slab of her double chin, she mulled overusing her own special ingredients.
You see, there was more than one reason why she was larger than the average pony. For one, she was a baker, and as an extension, her taste tester as well. Living in a bakery and eating the vast majority of the stuff she couldn’t sell had a marked effect on her already generous proportions. However, unlike most ponies that only liked being somewhat fat, she absolutely revelled in the feeling. Of overeating, of feeling her clothing strain and tear, of the feeling her already obese body swelling with excess calories like a balloon overfilled with helium. Whilst she liked to eat her standard, family recipes, she also liked to substitute in some special ingredients.
Special ingredients that had, among other things, sugar. Briefly considering the moral problems of spiking her normal products with the stuff, she made up her mind. “Aww, why the hay not. I’ll order in some replacements by tomorrow, and everything will be fine.” Nodding to herself, she trotted through to a small hatch, which revealed a small basement. It was mostly packed with a myriad of both baking equipment, and more personal items, all liberally coated in dust. Descending the steps, she pulled the hanging cord, a singular bulb igniting after a few flashes and blinks. She approached a specific wooden crate, covered in official looking stamps and labels, flipping the lid with her pudgy digits. “Bingo.”
Reaching in, she pulled out a hefty sack. It had very few labels attached to the mostly plain white bag. Tracing her fingers around the smooth vinyl of one of the stickers, she looked at the words. ‘Warning: Product is classified as a grade 3 health warning, with multiple debilitating side effects including increased weight gain, degradation of hygiene and addiction. Use product only under guidelines of a health official .’ She smirked, remember the deals she had to go through to acquire this bag of pleasure. Lots of asking friends of friends and getting some insight on certain shipments.
Placing the lid back on the crate, she hefted the bag in one arm, turning off the light as she emerged back onto the ground floor of the shop. With a loud thump, she placed it atop the counter, taking a deep breath as she began to flick through her family’s ancient cookbook, double checking the text that she had committed virtually to memory. “It’s no biggie… I’ll just add in the new stuff, order in some replacement stock, and everything should be plain sailing.” She chuckled, before picking up the pace, trying to cover for the lost time since her delay earlier.
As she quickly whipped up chocolate fudge cake, she popped it in the oven with a satisfying metallic clunk as the baking tray, along with it’s calorie dense passenger, were placed into the roaring cooker. Pulling out two cupcake trays, she let time pass by in a flurry of culinary creations, stemming back generations of bakers like herself. Back into the groove, she eagerly awaited the day, looking forward to seeing her regulars making the trip to her humble shop. Rolling out dough, she prepared for another regular day.
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Day Four - Ramifications Realised
Four days. Four long, excruciatingly demanding days had passed since she had made the switch to her special sugar. In just the span of those days, she had faced a rapid uptick in demand, both from her regulars, but also from newcomers, who had heard about how good their new treats were from co-workers. Curiosity or simple greed drew them in, and the addictive, delicious properties made it certain that they would be back again. She had never seen the bakery so active before, even during holidays when everypony was getting gingerbread mares or Nightmare night themed goodies.
No, this was far beyond the scope of that. Due to the vast quantities of product they consumed, it hadn’t taken long for less positive side effects to emerge as well. She could swear she could still smell the linger stench of hot, heavy belches in the air, fuelled by half-digested cupcakes, scones and turnovers. She could still hear the pinging of a button, or the tearing of fabric as articles of clothing, already large, failed to accommodate the extra body mass swaddling their undulating, wobbling bodies.
From stallions who’s tailored suit jacket lay splayed open from the extra mound of pudge strapped to their waist, to mares where their dresses and uniforms were pushed up at the back, as butt cheeks expanded like inflating weather balloons. And yet, no one had seemed to complain. Even as they stained their mouth’s with smudges of cream and chocolate, ate with increasing ferocity, and generally looked more like farm animals, rather than ponies, they hadn’t said a word to her. No one came running up to her desk, demanding what had happened to them. No, everypony was simply content with what was happening to them.
Sure, they did look at one another with some sense of revulsion, but those feelings were soon buried under mountains of the spiked treats. Then again, she couldn’t exactly complain. Afterall, those treats were finding their way onto her own figure too. Due to the massive uptick in demand, she had overcompensated with the amount of stock. As a result, she had more than enough to satisfy her own growing addiction. Already, she had shot up a shirt size, which was straining despite the enormity of the garment. Her slight waddle had become ever so slightly more pronounced as she felt those inflated flanks bump and press into door frames and any stray furniture that was unlucky enough to get in the way.
Currently, she was finishing up the last of the washing up, scrubbing the cooked-on batter with furious swipes of her arm, causing the accumulated blubber to quiver with each rapid stroke. Every twitch and jostle of her abundant flab reserves only served to send little jolts of pleasure through her body, biting her lip from each flash of pleasure. “Ohh… this was such a bad idea. And yet, such a good idea too…” Her belly let out a sloppy gurgle, almost like it was responding to her statement. Peeling off her rubber gloves, she tossed them over the tap to drip dry, leaving the now pristine looking kitchen, ready for another day of hard work.
Now though, she deserved some rest after such a hard day of toiling behind the stove and counter, trying to satisfy a hoard of increasingly gluttonous pigs. On her way out, she grabbed a plate, heaving with the remaining leftovers. Despite managing to fix her portion numbers, she still had some unsold stock. And unsold stock meant it was destined for her stomach. With another needy grumble, she smacked it lightly, feeling the hefty roll sway from the blow. “Shh… calm down… you’ll get your fill in a moment, let’s get comfy first.”
Navigating her way through the building, she came across a flight of stairs. Taking them, she made her way up, noting the increased difficulty of simply pushing her thighs past her slab of belly. Every step was hard going, even for somepony used to such excessive weight. Finally reaching the top, she made a hard left, coming to a sitting room. Pushing the door open with a free hand, Berry tottered over to the wide faux-leather sofa, plopping down with an alarming groan of overstressed wood.
With a small giggle, she grabbed the first treat on the pile, a triple chocolate muffin. With a surprising level of deftness, she unwrapped it, taking a large bite out of it. Despite how many times she had used the sugar in her own private concoctions, she just couldn’t deny how much the flavours were pushed into orgasmic levels of pleasure. As her tastebuds triggered her brain to flood it with a cascade of hormones, she eventually swallowed the sticky lump down, allowing the calorie bomb to hit her stomach. Her brain was screaming for more, which she was more than delighted to fulfil its wish.
Her hands flew from plate to mouth, the most energetic movement she had done in a long time. From cookies wider than teacups, to fairy cakes the size of Breezies, she made sure to have at least one tantalising morsel on hand. Fully enraptured in the clutches of addiction, she almost missed the feeling of clothing growing taut across her now expanding body. One of the specialities of the sugar, was the ability to process ingested calories, making them significantly more potent and much, much more fattening. As such, what would take plates of treats to add even a single pound, turned into a few bites. Her skin tingled, the sensation of putting on weight happening before her very eyes.
Noisily stuffing bite after bite into that cauldron like gut, she was becoming aware of the final property of the ingredient. A low, gurgling moan emanated from her stomach, as gas built up in her roiling stomach. Placing a sticky hand to the swell of purple flesh, she kneaded it, sinking into the doughy mass, before pressing into the taught sphere of food below. Long, tender squeezes and gropes attempted to calm to building storm, as it travelled lower through her body. FRRRBBBBRTT!!! BBRRPPT!! PPRTT! Letting out a long sigh, the pressure was released as three blasts flatulence came rumbling out between those wobbling, cellulite filled butt cheeks. Even through her shorts, she felt her tail flap like a flag caught in gale. A moment later, the sweet stench of half-digested cake came flooding through.
“Ahh… that felt good.” Berry murmured, giving her belly a small slap, sending the lavender flesh undulating.
“Ahem, you enjoying yourself?” A sudden call from the door caused Berry to jolt up, managing to tear her gaze away from the treat stack. Standing in the open doorway was a Pegasus, with a near pure white coat and a short, crimson mane. One hand rested on her hip, the other gripping the door frame.
“Oh… hi their Bow, how are you doing?” she squeaked out, trying to look casual. Judging by Bow’s expression, the sloppy, stain covered mare wasn’t fooling her in the slightest.
“I’m doing fine now. What I am interested in is the fact that your shop has suddenly had a massive increase in customers, who barely want to leave.” Folding her arms, she entered the room. Bow, or Bowstring, was a typical mare of modern Equestria. She had the usual general coating of flab across her body, though slightly on the higher end of the spectrum in terms of sheer size. This wasn’t helped by her shorter stature, meaning that those accumulated pounds were very noticeable wherever they accumulated. This hadn’t been helped by the fact that she had known Berry since childhood, resulting in plenty of excess pastries and desserts flowing down her throat.
This was most apparent in her large hips and even wider bottom. Those white globes usually fought against anything they were squeezed into, much to the chagrin of the mare they were attached to. “I just recently found a new secret recipe that ponies can’t get enough of. It’s just too good to pass up.”
“I noticed. I know you’re a big eater, but you at least have some sense of grace. Actually, scratch that, you and table manners go together like oil and water.” She pointed out, a small smirk gracing her lips. Berry only gave a small giggle of her own in response, licking some stray blobs of jam from her rounded, rose tinted cheeks. “This is something different. Whatever new thing you’ve concocted can’t be some secret recipe that turns ponies into piggies.” Her eyes narrowed somewhat, stepping closer to Berry.
“I don’t know what else to say Bow. I’ve just managed to hit it big I guess.”
“And somehow become a bigger slob than usual. Call me cynical, but I am not buying it.” Kneeling, she came eye level with her friend, their amber orbs locking. Small beads of sweat run down her face, as she picked up one of her blueberry white chocolate muffins from the pile. Bow was the first to break eye contact, following the bakers flabby, bingo wing swaddled appendage down to the plate.
“Look, if I can’t persuade with my words, how about I show you what everypony is raving about? Just, give it a try, OK?” Bow paused for a moment, looking at the proffered treat. Briefly considering it, she took it after a moment. From initial impressions, it looked very normal, her sensitive nose picking up the smell of fresh berries and cocoa butter, with a hint of vanilla. Shrugging, she peeled the wrapping, taking a bite.
Her narrowed, sceptical expression softened, before fading completely. Tentatively, she took another bite, before wolfing the rest down, practically shoving the wrapper into her face as she tried to get as much of that irresistible dessert into her. “Mmmmpp… oh Celestia, I can see why ponies love these so much…” she mumbled out, a few crumbs escaping her full mouth, decorating the ring of blue and white stains around her lips.
“See? What’d I tell you? You just needed to try them.” Berry calmly said, the tension between the pair evaporating. Before she could do anything else, Bow grabbed another treat, a jam tart, already working away at it’s delicious exterior. Her teeth sunk into it’s gooey strawberry interior, followed by a moan of pleasure. Sitting back, Berry watched as the rest of her afterwork snack was demolished in short order, like a house of cards in a tornado.
Already, the baker was scheming. If her friend, who was so suspicious about her ‘new’ recipes could become that enraptured in but a couple of bites, who to say that others could stop her expanding her usage of the sugar? Afterall, it wasn’t like they had any objections to their enlarging bodies, nor their degradation of hygiene? Hay, if they really hated it, they would have complained to her the next day. And yet, nothing. Not a peep. If they were content to carry on their spiralling weight gain, who was she to deny them that privilege?
Finishing the tray with a rumbling belch, Bowstring lay out on the carpeted floor, chubby fingers gliding over her overstuffed gut, giving it a couple of tender rubs. “That… was… UURRPPP… great. Pardon me.” A warm, matronly smile came to Berry’s face as she joined her on the floor, assisting her in rubbing that doughy, warm, blubbery, roll ringed belly.
“You are excused Bow, you’ll always be excused.”
View Online
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Day Thirty Five - The Offer Of Something Greater
“Grr… come on stupid shirt… fit already.” An annoyed, frustrated shout called from within the dressing rooms of Ruby Lorraine, a large, somewhat more upmarket clothing shop in downtown Manehatten. Currently, a rather annoyed Bowstring was attempting to fix a rather interesting problem she had developed recently. Namely, her recent expansion owing to a certain addiction she had developed. It had been a good couple of weeks since her fated encounter with her friend’s confections. As a result, her weight had been sent rocketing up into the stratosphere.
Because of this, the only thing in her wardrobe that still vaguely fit her was a pair of stretchy workout clothes that used to belong to Berry Pie. But saying they fit was an insult to tailors. Her body oozed out of them like an overfull bread tin, with the dough rising out of it and sagging heavily. That top, once designed to cover the whole torso, had degenerated into what was the rough approximation of a tube top, her melon-like breasts filling it out to the point where the base was riding up the swell of those bulbous boobs.
This was partially complemented by the decimation of the sleeves, which were non-existent now. Her ‘sleeves’ were replaced by juicy bingo wings, swaddling her upper arms in a heavy, wobbly coat that sagged past her elbows.
Further down her body, was an even greater struggle. If her top was ill fitting, then her shorts were a far cry from even that. Following her continued consumption of those treats, her butt and thighs had been content in inflating like an overfilled blimp. They had become so wide that those shorts virtually became a pair of extra panties, as giant tears marred the dull red fabric end to end. This allowed for those ass cheeks to become exposed to more than an acceptable level, at least in Bowstrings eyes. Berry hadn’t really said too much aside from ‘It looks good!’, before proceeding to stuff her with another slice of cake.
So now, she had forced herself to go out and get something more appropriate. Despite how ponies were all to some degree fat, her ballooning had really pushed the boundaries on what could be seen as the ‘norm’. This was the third shop she had tried that day, and she had been forced to try out the top end of sizes they offered. And every single time, she had willingly rejected most options. Mainly because they were the most garish things she had ever seen. Some of them being little more than ponchos or just masses of fabric that vaguely resemble clothing. She was desperate, but not that much. So now, after trying on another horrible looking excuse for clothes, Bowstring decided to try someplace else. Forcing herself back into her older apparel was just more effort on her part.
“Everything okay there?” A voice called out, slightly wavering and unsure.
“Yeah, I’m fine thanks.” Bow called back, hauling the shirt up the rest of the way, not even trying to hide the tinge of anger present in her voice. She hadn’t come out today just to confirm how much of fat ass she was. With a huff she grabbed her bag, opening the lock with a sharp clunk. The hinges creaked lightly, as Bow caught sight of what looked like a shop employee. She was a yellow maned, rather petite individual, who was slightly thinner than the average mare, looking around the 180-190 pounds. She looked over at the immense orb of flab that pushed her way out of the changing room. The two locked eyes briefly, the employee quickly breaking it when she notices how furious she looked.
“Stupid shop, don’t have any good-looking clothes.” She muttered, heading for the automatic doors. Heading for the Pegasus involved waddling, terribly slow waddling, as her massive hips pressed and squeezed past one another, fighting for room whilst fighting against the straining material of her decimated shorts. What was also annoying her was the looks she garnered. Not everyone gaped and goggled at her, but there were enough inquisitive looks to make her feel more inadequate than she already was.
Shaking her head, she tried her best to ignore them, the door sliding open as she approached, offering enough room for her giga thighs to escape through. As she left, she emerged into the bustling Manehatten streets. Given it was a weekend, there was considerable numbers of pedestrians traversing the pavement. Though, she did note that for every dozen or so mares and stallions, you got individuals like herself. Not as large mind you, they were trailing behind in terms of size, but they still took up a considerable amount of the roadside.
Snorting, she plodded forth, thinking about the new food craze gripping the city. She had no doubt that it had started with Berry. Ever since she had tasted those treats, she had been utterly enraptured by them. They were indescribable and tasted like nothing she had ever had before. Every single day, more and more patrons had turned up at Berry Pie’s shop, either regulars who couldn’t get enough of the taste, or newcomers who were wondering what the fuss was all about.
Berry had even been hiring new workers to keep up with demand, considering her business had effectively quadrupled it’s patronage and more than sextupled its output. As such, the business was making more and more coin every single day, with more delectable treats passing over the counter with each passing hour. From opening time to closing time, there was usually a good stream of customers wanting to get their increasingly pudgy mitts on a paper bag, heaving with doughnuts, cookies, muffins, and slices of delectable cake. And yet, despite all the customers, there was still excess from the day. And those, found their way upstairs, all the way to Bowstring.
At this point, the white mare had effectively become the leftover dump, with ever increasing amounts being piled onto her in rather intimate feeding sessions. Either sitting on her bed, or on the couch, the obese Pegasus would be lovingly offered bite after bite of every type of pastry under Celestia’s sun. The purple Earth pony passed several pounds of raw, sugary calories past her lips, offering her soft encouraging words, all the while giving her gurgling, overworked belly all the rubs and pampering she wanted.
If one thing annoyed her the most, it was the degradation of her hygiene. For a mare who had such an acute sense of smell, her excessive flatulence was certainly a low point of this whole growth spurt. Whilst she could hold it in in public, when she was being stuffed full, she had much more difficulty restraining herself. Every minute, she would feel all the excess gas force its way through her colossal mount of belly flab, so large in fact, that it was larger than Berry’s own prestigious gut. Immense blasts of gas emanated between her titanic orbs of blubber, the sheer power of them setting her entire body in motion, rippling and wobbling her form indiscriminately, all the way from her accordion like back rolls, to her sloshing tits.
What was worst, however, was the smell. As if some cruel irony, she could swear that her expulsions smelt far worse than anypony else’s, whenever she passed through the shop floor on her way out. Her pastry heavy diet left them smelling sickly sweet, which permeated her bed and the couch with each rumbling, explosive fart. It didn’t help that Berry ignored her rude disregard for social etiquette, sometimes responding with a small giggle, other times, giving her soft gut a gentle rub, her fingers dancing along her compounded curves and disappearing into crevasses and folds, often drawing out her own laughs from the ticklish appendages.
Totally lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realise she was being watched. Sitting in the cab of a private motorized cart, her wide body filled the already excessively wide seats. Leaning against the window, she greedily drank in the view of the oblivious Pegasus, her emerald eyes gazing at her through the tinted glass. She gave the driver a tap on the shoulder, gesturing towards the massive mare. Nodding, he span the wheel, coming perpendicular to the pavement. Putting on the handbrake, she hopped out of the seat, opening the door a couple of meters in front of the puffing, panting mare, her delectable body oozing with potential, never mind the swaddling layers of gorgeous blubber.
Bowstring looked up as she heard the sound of an engine purring up the curb side, disgorging a very well-dressed mare, her large figure filling out the suit in just the right ways. A unicorn, if the spiralled horn was any indicator, that dull blue spike parted an even darker blue mane, close to what you’d see around heat stained exhausts. ‘A business mare, what’s she doing working on a Sunday?’ She mused internally. Oddly, it seemed that she was walking towards her, with a gleeful, if slightly lustful look in her eyes. “Hi there, I’ve come to make a proposal.” The mare exclaimed, a hand on her hip, the other rummaging in a suit pocket for something.
“Hello yourself. I’m not in the mood for any sales pitch about snake oil or whatever crap you have to offer.” She shot back. Instead of puncturing the lady’s ego, instead she smirked, finally plucking out whatever she had been looking for.
“Quite the attitude huh? I like ponies with some spine. Listen, because you have the potential to make it big.”
“Yeah, I’m already making it ‘big’ at the moment.” Bow patted the swell of her gut to emphasise the point, earning a wider smirk from the lady.
“Heh, I can see that which is why I’ve got a proposal for you. My boss is looking for new models to display a whole new line of clothing specifically for ultra-obese ponies. We’ve noticed the uptick in larger and larger ponies across the city, and we were hoping to nip the market in the bud before it got away from us.”
“Wait… you want me to be a model? But, I’m hardly what you’d call fashionable. I can believe anypony would find this form attractive…” she trailed off, a little more self-conscious about her size.
“Don’t worry about it! Even from the road, I could see by the way you carried yourself, the way you moved that you have the stage presence to really set the hearts of many alight. Besides, how could you say that about such a pretty face like your own. If anything, your rotundness only exaggerates your beauty… Oh, how rude of me, my name is Cobalt Cardigan, the personal assistant of Extravaganza. And you are?”
“Bowstring. Just Bowstring… wait, did you just say Extravaganza, as in, the world-famous Extravaganza?” Cobal just smiled, giving a small nod.
“The very same, dear Bow… is it alright to call you Bow?” She got a smile in return. “Yes. I think I’ve found the ideal mare she was looking for.” Extending her hand, Cobalt held a small business card, pressing it into Bows hand. Holding it up, she inspected the rectangle of card. Extravaganza’s logo was emblazoned in the upper right portion, followed by the address of her Manehatten studio, along with a phone number. “Just give that a ring later on and we’ll discuss any details before you come down.”
“Sure, I’ll, err, just mull it over.” She responded, twiddling the card between her fingers, stashing it away in her pack before she lost it. “So, I’ll ring you in a while. I’ll be heading home, I just need to catch the bus first and…” before she could continue, she noticed Cobalt’s eyebrows knot slightly in what she assumed to be concern.
“Oh no no no! This will not do at all! You can’t possibly force that beautiful body of yours into that cramped, hot, airless box.”
“Well, I usually do. It’s how I commute.” Cobalt huffed slightly, before a smirk blossomed on her lips. Reaching out, she grabbed Bow’s hand, leading her over to where the motorized carriage had been parked. “H...hey what are you doing?” Bow sputtered out, managing to catch herself from tripping from the sudden motion. Without a word, Cobalt opened the door, revealing the available back seating.
“We’ll take you home. It’s the least I can do for practically forcing a job interview on you in the street. And no buts, except your one pressed into these soft, comfy seats.” Bow considered objecting again. But then again, when was the last time she’d got to ride in such luxury? Also, she didn’t have to buy a ticket either, so that was nice she supposed. Shrugging, she lowered herself inch by inch into the seating. Those immense buttocks on contact spread out, filling and spilling out of the sides, she more than took up her fair share of room. As her full weight was pressed down, a low metallic creak emanated from below her, as the ride height dropped ever so slightly.
Cobalt closed the door, squishing that white ass blubber back into the vehicle. Practically skipping, she danced around to the other side, grasping the handle, leaping in. Settling herself down, Cobalt could feel Bow’s love handles and bottom pressing into her side, which judging by the wide grin she sported was most certainly not a problem. “So, where to Bow?”
“Uhh, Berry Pie’s Bakery.”
“Ha… already hungry? I don’t think we have time to stop there to grab a treat and…”
“No, I live there. My friend runs the shop and I live above the place.” Bow interrupted, a small blush now forming on Cobalt’s soft cheeks, looking more cyan than rose. The silent chauffeur took the sudden awkwardness as his que to set off. Sitting there, it gave Bow more time to contemplate the offer.
The main issue was that her current employment options were becoming rather limited. Putting on over a hundred pounds of pure lard made doing most jobs rather difficult, including the occasional help she gave to Berry, due to being more prone to eating them, rather than selling those delicious bundles of joy. Stuck in her own thoughts, the trip flew by rather quickly, the vehicle slowing to a halt outside the store. Blinking, Bow finally got her wits about her, following a small prod to her side and a polite cough.
“Your stop, miss.” The driver said in a calm voice. Nodding, she grasped the cool handle, and with a few struggling grunts, got to her feet as she emerged onto the pavement. Glancing around, Bow noticed something curious. When she had been shopping, only a handful of individuals had been even close to her size. Now… every other pony she saw was sporting a spare hundred pounds, pushing and squeezing it’s way through ill-fitting garments of all types.
“I’ll give you a call at some point and give you my answer.” Bow turned around, watching as Cobalt scooted across the seating, now sitting in the seat Bow was in.
“I look forward to it, Bow. I would very much like to work with you in the future.” And with that, she closed the door, the vehicle pulling away, before turning a corner, out of the Pegasi’s view. Letting out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, Bow waddled her way up to the door, allowing a rather colourful pony to exit. An Earth pony, who looked like she had been caught in an explosion at a paint factory. Her frizzy mane was purple and cyan blue, whilst her coat had an odd metallic shimmer to it, well, at least the parts that weren’t covered up her rather garish outfit or stained by numerous splotches of detritus from her feast. Compared to Berry or Bow, she had mostly evenly spread her gains across her giant frame.
As she passed by, Bow couldn’t help but stare at the state of her, even as a low, rumbling burst of flatulence exploded from the earth pony’s booty, filling the air with a raunchy stench. Scrunching her muzzle, the Pegasus squeezed her way into the bakery. As luck would have it, only one patron was currently in the store. Standing at the counter, a deep sage coloured stallion gripped multiple paper bags in his flabby grasp. They were groaning with the sheer mass of sugary delight struggling to be contained within. Berry was behind the counter, struggling to shove dozens of bits into the already full cash register.
“What can I do for you?” Berry said in her typical calm, pleasant voice, before looking up, seeing her friend standing there. “Oh! Your back! How did the shopping go?” Bow just stood there, a small blush on her face as she gestured to her old clothes still clinging to her form.
“Ehe… yeah, about that… I really didn’t find anywhere good, at all. Everything was too small, or just crappy looking.” Glancing around, she rubbed her arm, before leaning in towards Berry. “Though, I did find something interesting instead. A job offer of all things.”
“Interesting, care to share the details?” Berry made herself a little more comfortable, as Bow gave a rough overview of the last hour, discussing the offer Cobalt had given her as she placed the business card down on the tabletop.
“So, what do you think Berry? You think I’d make a good model, because I’m honestly on the fence about the whole thing.
“I think that you should take it! How often do ponies get opportunities like this? You’ve got a brilliant body, and a wonderful mare attached to it. And I’m saying this as your friend, you need to get out there and make something of yourself. This is a great opportunity to get some real income flowing in for yourself, so you don’t have to mooch off me half the time, not that I mind it of course…” Turning around, Berry picked up a nearby telephone, plucking it off it’s cradle and pressing the plastic shell into Bow’s hands. “Besides, if you don’t like it, you could always back out. You’ll never get to make that choice if you never try to begin with.”
Gripping the receiver, she grabbed the card with her other hand, punching in the numbers one by one. Pressing dial, she placed it against her ear, a long breath released as she heard it ringing on the other end. Seconds passed, before a small click came through. “Hello, this is Extravaganza’s Studio’s, how may we help you?” The voice of Cobalt came through, slightly more monotone than when they had been talking.
“This is Bowstring, I’ll take your offer.”
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Day Fourty Four - Showing Off The Goods
A low drumbeat, sounding vaguely like some sort of electronic piece came thudding into the dressing room as a chubby mare opened the door, a small smile gracing her orange skin. “Hey, your needed to come to the side of the stage sweetie, show’s about to begin.” The individual she was addressing was currently sitting in a double wide chair, a pair of colossal ass cheeks filling and overflowing the plastic furniture with ease. The red maned mare glanced around, eyes resting on the clock, nailed to the wall. The slightly wonky, offset time piece read 8:54.
“Sure, let me just get up.” Fluttering a pair of wings on her back, she braced herself as the Pegasus planted herself firmly against the ground, groaning as she rose, the top of her mane reaching the assistants eye line. Waddling her way out, the mare could properly see what the large model was displaying. Truly, it was as curious as it was revealing. A beautiful dress composed of an entire bedsheet’s worth of material, of which it seemed to be partially of some stretchy fabric that clung to her every roll and fold, exaggerating her enormity, rather than hiding it.
There were no sleeves or anything to cover the tops of her gigantic upper arms, which were each easily the size of a pony’s head. In fact, it was very flexible, the material easily flowing around her, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Unobtrusive, going to the cusp of socially acceptable levels, as shown by the amount of cleavage she showed from those pendulous boobs, straining within the no doubt massive bra, fighting for it’s dear life. Speaking of massive, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the utter enormity of her stomach. Reaching down to her knees like some sort of gelatinous apron, her slightly smaller legs would continually press and collide with each waddling step.
A small amount of makeup had been applied to her rounded complexion, most notably being the slight blush applied to her swollen cheeks. Further below, a great collection of chins had gathered, squishing into a tire like ring of neck blubber. Simply put, it was easily the largest pony the orange mare had ever seen. Not only that, a mare that was going to appear on one of Extravaganza’s shows, sponsored by a bakery of all things!
Hiding her surprise behind a mask of professionalism, she helped to guide the plus sized pony down the halls, a number of other models of a variety of sizes appearing. They were big, sure, but none of them could hold a candle to the red and white mares’ enormity. As they got closer, the music continued to increase in volume, as did the murmuring and chatting of hundreds of individuals in the audience. Finally, she pushed open the door to the stage, waiting for her charge to catch up and practically ooze through the passageway.
Stepping onto the stage, hearing the pounding of the audio in her ears, Bowstring was having second thoughts about this. After a week or so of assessment and measuring, as well as yet more weight piling onto her oversized form, she had been placed up for her first modelling gig. A fashion show of all things, by the insistence of her employer. Meeting Extravaganza (or Ganza, as she was also referred to as) was certainly an interesting experience. Everything about her was… very over the top. Her Manestyle, her outfit, her personality, even the way she went about inspecting Bow. A process which involved stripping almost completely naked, the fashion designer then measuring and meticulously going over every inch of blubbery flesh. Just thinking about it made her blush, darkening her already touched up cheeks.
She especially blushed when remembered when she let out a particularly bassy, rumbling gout of flatulence when Ganza was busy squeezing multiple tape measures around her cellulite inflated ass. For Bow, it seemed to last for eternity, as her new employer was caught in the eruption. When it finally subsided, the two of them just stood there in silence. Before she could stutter out a garbled mass of apologies, both of Ganza’s arms wrapped around as much ass flab as she could manage, before burying her face into her crack. She even remembered the words she said, hearing them clear as day despite how muffled they were literal feet of adipose tissue. “My my, you are a gassy mare, such a raw, primal stench… mmmmhhh. Fortunately for you, I’ve come to appreciate individuals such as yourself, especially if they were to get even larger for me. This plush, blobby softness is the future, and you my friend, are going to be at the spearhead of it all…”
Looking behind, she saw the other models queuing up. Some looked neutral, others giving her encouraging smiles, which she reciprocated to the best of her ability. “Alright, Bowstring, when the centre curtain lifts up, you’ve just got to go to the end of the platform, show off the ‘special feature’ then walk back. You got this.” She whispered to herself, amber eyes catching the clock on the wall. One minute left before show time. Time seemed to crawl by, her hands smoothing down non-existent creases on the dress, her finger tracing their way around the seams, still not sure about their appeal.
Glancing up, she saw the curtain begin to rise up, with a staff member gesturing her over to the side, before holding up his hand in a stop motion.
“Welcome mares and gentlecolts to this most special of occasions! A special occasion to mark what I believe to be the turning point in fashion today in Manehattan, and especially Equestria! Ponies are getting larger and larger, but these last couple of weeks have seen a vast uptick of weight, and what better way to show it off, but by having some similarly impressive new clothing to accompany it? Before I forget, this show was sponsored by Berry Pie bakeries, your one stop shop for everything fresh and tasty.” Ganzas' voice rang out, carried by the multitude of speakers mounted through the venue.
Bow was still surprised that Berry had the money to sponsor something like this. Then again, business continued to rise, and she had noticed the purple mare would make more calls to other businesses and would slink out in the night. Being able to sell her goods to such a large crowd was cherry on top to also promoting her business.
The staff member gestures to her to walk out, her employers voice piping out of the speakers around her. “And here is the first piece on display, modelled by Bowstring!” Stepping into the light, she could see the narrow platform of the catwalk, so narrow that she was wide enough to fill it. Starting her trek, she could feel thousands of pairs of eyeballs ogling her, accompanied by flashes of cameras from all angles.
One lumbering step after the other, her form swayed and undulated with each plodding step, her flesh dancing in such a visceral display that grabbed everyone’s attention. Every movement one which was meticulously recorded, even as everything around her appeared as a blur of noise and sound. Even from her sluggish pace, she approached the end of the stage, where she would unveil what made her piece so unique. Scant feet from the edge, she spread her legs into a rough approximation of a power pose, placing her hands on her hips and leaned back slightly.
All at once, those extra hidden seams came apart in an instant. Her abundant, doughy blubber oozed through the gaps, exposing great swaths of pearly white fleshy. Her love handles came fully into view, the apparent tearing letting those ringing slabs to expose their sagging mass. This was compounded by Bow letting out a belch in the moment, fighting her instinctual reaction to clap her hand over her mouth. Like she had practiced, she played with the exposed flab, whilst slowly turning around, allowing the cameras to catch each suggestive jostle, shake or gyration, as she stuck her ass outwards. Bow was conflicted internally. She was practically stripping in front of thousands of viewers, and judging by the number of camera flashes, many tens of thousands more would see by tomorrow, across Equestria.
But, conversely, nopony was booing her or shaking their fists at her. Glancing briefly towards the crowd, there was a mix of awed expressions or grins. Nopony was hating her, and judging by the cheers and whoops of excitement, they seemed to enjoy it! “Would you look at that! From every roll and fold, no matter how large she gets, she revels in the attention! She adores her size, and exudes confidence from every pore, especially given how her clothes are designed to give her that extra room to expand!”
With one final sloshing twirl, she made her way back down the catwalk, the encouraging words of Extravaganza accompanying Bow every step of the way. Finally reaching the curtain she made a right turn, now blocked from the gawking crowds. Breathing out a sigh of relief, a bottle of cool water was pressed into her hand, the orange mare from before giving her a small smile. Bow gave her an appreciative nod, twisting the cap off, taking greedy gulps of fluid. Whatever happened next, would be in the hands of the audience there, most likely to be critics and designers themselves, owners of magazines and industries. She could only hope that Ganza would steer them down the right path.
View Online
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Day One Hundred and Fourty Three - Business Acquisitions and Feeding Fanatics
Berry sat behind a desk, shuffling papers, giving them a brief look over as she signed off on another acquisition for a Baltimare based bakery that had been taking a nosedive recently. 15000 bits for her next location, and the next place to spread her goods' influence on to. Slipping the necessary documents into an envelope, the bakery mare leaned back into the chair, her gigantic ass filling the already oversized, reinforced steel swivel seat. Her apron hadn’t seen any use for over a month, instead she was wearing a lovely formal piece, modelled by her dear friend.
And what a dress it was. A lovely colour that reminded her of a blueberry, the immense outfit encapsulated the absolute size she had reached. Having access to a virtually unlimited pantry would tempt her ever present sweet tooth just a little, much to the dismay of any furniture nearby. Her ass could crush damn near anything and would need custom pieces to hold her sheer mass. Jostling a few sheets of paper, a couple short expulsions of flatulence left her, the noise being amplified by the leather seat as those beach ball butt cheeks quaked. Her raw bubbling gas was mostly absorbed into the fabric of the chair, though some residual flatulence still wafted into the air. The pungent miasma had a definite sweet smell to it, undercut by a more greasy aroma, courtesy of the local fast food joint she had been doing some ‘market research’ at.
Sighing contently, rising slowly to her feet, she absently brushed non-exist crumbs from her lap. Stretching, she checked her schedule, noticing that she had two hours before a scheduled meeting. “I’ll give Bow a visit, she’ll enjoy that… along with another feeding session.” Trotting out of her office, managing to squeeze her thighs through the treble wide doors, she looked outside the window which faced her old shop. And what a shop it was. What was once a modest bakery that occupied just once spot on the Manehatten street, had been expanded into the surrounding buildings attached to it. At least 5 times as large as it once was, with vast amounts of space for baking and an eating area that reached full capacity every day, it was certainly an interesting sight to behold.
Her months of using those addictive products had warped the needs of virtually everypony she saw. It was rare to see someone without a bag full to bursting with all manner of treats, all the while cramming them into their food stained mouths, reaching in for more. Taking the elevator down the ground floor, Berry confidently strode through the foyer, catching the eye of her receptionist. A Unicorn stallion, who practically filled the space behind his desk with rolling masses of green blubber, reminding Berry of hills in the spring. Then again, hills don’t make constant noise, from the gurgling, blorping of his belly, to the rolling belches and trumpeting farts he let off. Neither do they smell particularly strongly of sweat and flatulence.
He barely met her gaze, head buried sheepishly into a double baker’s dozen worth of doughnuts. Berry smiled at him, her usual warm, disarming, almost motherly beaming. She loved it when her employees took advantage of the free food policy, the prolonged effects made them look so huge and adorable, or in some cases, downright arousing. Allowing the automatic door to silently slide open, Berry stepped out into the street, joining the flow of pedestrians. More ponies, heads buried into branded bags, struggling to walk as they went about their day. The ones that did think to look up would recognise her, giving her awed gasps or cheerful greetings, which she returned to the best of her ability.
How could they not recognise her? Ever since Extravaganza’s show, her name and her business were placed right next to them, alongside Bowstring, the one who had dazzled the audiences to start with. There may have been other models at that show, but the initial appearance of the red maned Pegasus had been the spectacle that had made the covers of virtually every paper nationwide. From there, her stardom had spiralled. Something about how blatant her piggishness was, how she carried her weight or simply her utter enormity had captivated ponies across the nation. Combined with the uptick of weight, it didn’t take long for the trend to spread.
Crossing the street, she dipped down a small alleyway, allowing her to access the rear of the building. Rows upon rows of trucks were parked, with crates full of ingredients flowing into the building, and crates full of her products flowing out, ready to fill store shelves across Manehatten. Afterall, it was a big city, and it simply wasn’t feasible to travel out here every time Somepony had a craving for a cookie or twenty. Approaching a wide door, she drew out a large key card, swiping it on the grooved box attached to the brickwork.
What greeted her was the smells of a hundred ovens, filling the air with delicious mingling aromas. Closing the door, she carefully made her way past the multitude of aproned, hair netted and face mask clad bakers, all of them busy to fill demand. The amount of effort needed to keep the city’s demand filled was certainly excessive, even with the introduction of magically fired ovens that sped up cooking, and subsequent automation involved with giant mixing machines that processed gallons of batter. Keeping on top of the gluttonous masses was a demanding task, one which Berry hoped her recent purchase of another bakery across town and a couple factories would rectify in short order.
“Hi Berry! What brings you here today?” One of the more senior chefs piped up. She had been one of the first ponies Berry had hired the help with the initial growing demand, and it showed, especially on her waistline, rivalling her employer in terms of belly size.
“Oh, the usual Bowstring order, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all, we’ll get that ready in a jiffy!”
“Excellent. I’m going to do a quick inspection whilst you get that ready.” Dismissing her, Berry took her time trotting through all the workstations, watching as her diligent employees crafted vats of mixture, mixture which had massive amounts of the addictive formula snuck in. She had gone to great lengths to prevent knowledge of it’s existence from getting out, going so far as buying out the distributor to prevent it being sold to anypony else. Even her employees didn’t know of it, having it repackaged into generic bags of industrial sized sugar.
Turning around, she watched as the same baker held up a wide cardboard box, stuffed with pounds upon pounds of the most sweet, unhealthy treats known to ponykind. Thanking her, Berry exited the room, hauling herself up a flight of stairs to the next floor. And what a floor it was. Given that Berry had taken most surrounding properties, she had taken it upon herself to combine the floor space of the rest of the buildings. As such, she and Bow had considerably more room these days, rooms which had been furnished and decorated as lavishly as possible.
Passing bookshelves crammed with a myriad of novels, to paintings and photos, Berry made her way towards a pair of double doors. As she grew closer, she could hear sounds, ones that possessed a distinctly organic quality. A slow, constant gulping. Blorping, gurgling groans, and gaseous expulsions were very noticeable. Pushing on the door, Berry let herself in. If one word could be used to describe Bow’s room, it would be vast. A vast room filled with a vast wardrobe, a vast number of electronics, and a vast bed. Sitting on said bed, was one vast pony.
Bowstring had to be the largest pony Berry had ever seen, making the baker herself feel tiny. Her body was being propped up by a stack of pillows, allowing her to keep a comfortable sitting position as she sucked on a plastic tube, pumping a formulated mixture, designed by Berry herself. A mix composed of her signature sugar, cream, and a myriad of chemicals. This prototype mixture was created for the sole purpose of continuing to make the Pegasus balloon with more blubber and would be integrated into all recipes to help spread the joy of her baking to the Equestrian population. Her belly, a substantial part of her, had rolled nearly to her feet. A simple slab of blubber, almost as thick as the mattress her couch filling cheeks pressed into, and as pliant as putty. This was complimented by a deep belly button, sunken into the cavernous fissure that formed the two rolls. Above this was her breasts, contained by a parachute like bra.
Colossal milky mountains that sloshed and wobbled with every slight movement her stiff arms made. Bingo wings as big as the pillows she rested on composed the bulk of her sunken in limbs. So swaddled in lard, they sagged heavily onto her already flabby forearms, which were attempting to swell over her hands. Her neck roll provided all the head support she could have wanted, given the sheer size it had blossomed into. Her legs were column-like in their sheer diameter, pressing together, regardless of how much she spread them. Tiny feet were currently being consumed by calf blubber, making her already limited locomotion even more gruelling. Finally, her face was utterly consumed by excess flab that had little place else to go on her already crowded form. A chin, along with 4 followers, bunched and sagged onto her neck lard. Cheeks and jowls merged into one, puffed up like tennis balls surrounding her lips. Lips that were stained with detritus and sauces from many a meal. Meals that Berry was proud to say that she personally delivered to her, crawling, and pressing against that bulk whilst forcing another brick of cake into her gob.
Currently, Bow was tapping away at a handheld console, small grunts of frustration emanating from her mouth every so often. She was so engrossed; she didn’t notice her friend enter the room. Getting closer, Berry watched as streams of sweat trickled across her body, either dripping off onto the mattress or pooling in her folds. “Bow, are you feeling alright there?” Blinking, the Pegasus looked up from her game, her annoyance disappearing in a moment as she caught sight of the Earthpony. Reaching up, she grabbed the tube, tugging it out with a small pop, before pressing a button on the end, turning the flow off.
“Berry! I’m doing fine. Just playing that new Ponymon game. It's just that the biking puzzles needs you to make sharp turns!” She snorted, presenting her pudgy, sausage like digits. “I can hardly press the right button half the time!” As if to compound her annoyance, she lifted her leg the best she could, allowing a long, raunchy blast to leave her doughy buttocks. PFFFRRRBBBBBBTTTPPPPP!!!! Most of the force was dampened by the number of soft cushions she rested on, though that didn’t stop the concussive force rolling through her hundreds of pounds of blubber. In an instant, her sweat slicked form was bouncing slapping with juicy claps from the force, Berry biting her lip in response, a satisfied smile materialising on Bow’s.
“That was a big one… certainly suited to such a big mare like you.” Reaching out, she placed a hand onto the curved swell of Bow’s belly, tracing circles in the malleable adipose, sighing as she felt it ooze through her finger gaps.
“Mmmm, yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” Sniffing, she managed to look past the swell of her tits, eyes locking onto the box. “Smells good...”
“I know, you have such overpowering, raunchy farts”
“No, I mean that box of treats there… if I was guessing, I would think you're trying to fatten me up.”
Berry clapped her hand to her mouth with a look of mock surprise exaggerated across her rounded face. “Me, fatten you? Psshh… as if. Though you do look good with a couple hundred pounds on you.”
“Try a thousand, I’m nearly there at this point. Everypony seems to adore how big I am anyways, so what’s another couple more going to do? I can barely walk now thanks to you, so it’s not like I can run away.” Doing her best to shrug, she placed her Gamecolt on her belly, as her friend flipped the lid open. Fresh, still warm goodies revealed, a deep growl emanating from her bottomless pit of a stomach. As Berry lifted out an entire chocolate fudge cake, Bow closed her eyes, and waited for it to come. As the slab of deliciousness was pressed into her mouth, she did her best to chew and gulp it down, readying herself for what she knew would be a solid hour of feeding, and a couple extra inches on her waistline.
View Online
Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce
Day Three Hundred and Eighty Two - The Equestrian Fashion Awards
The Grand Manehatten Theatre Hall, a place which showcased the talents of artists, actors, musicians, and other noteworthy individuals within the sphere of creativity. And indeed, on this night, those within the fashion industry as a whole. Normally, the great hall would play host to thousands of individuals, all quietly awaiting whatever performance or spectacle on show.
The capacity of the hall was filled to the brim. Not with extra individuals, but the simple size of each patron had utterly dwarfed the initial seating sizes laid out by the architects of the place. Over a year had passed since the initial adoption of Berry’s sugar into her treats, and the growing trend of, well, growth. The stands were packed to capacity, with the colossal specimens crammed together, rolls of fat mashing and smushing together, forming walls of obesity, composed of near blob-like individuals.
Their enormity was so severe, that mobility itself had become nothing but a fantasy, their overburdened legs confined to mobility devices, the heavy duty machines branded with a myriad of obnoxious stickers advertising some of the many dozens of companies owned by Berry Pie. The few that could still move were positioned onto magically reinforced benches, the enchantment straining to take the hundreds of pounds of equine blubber deposited onto the cool, comfy material.
Not only was demographics of the crowd altered, their manners too left much to be desired. Noisily and with a disregard for any proper decorum, they wolfed down bucket loads of any number of sweet treats, or the more and more prevalent greasy, savoury fast food. An industry which had been saved by the good graces of Berry Pie Food Distributors Inc. To go along with their lack of manners, was an inability to care about the smell’s they produced.
Lip rippling belches erupted between the brief, nearly non-existent gaps where something wasn’t being devoured by pure greed. The immense heat produced by the meter’s worth of insulating blubber, in addition to being squeezed next to dozens of other fatties, in a room full of hundreds more, produced considerable heat. Sweat rolled across exposed folds and curves or absorbed by tent’s worth of fabric clothing their obscenely ballooned forms, producing rather rip smells. And of course, what took the cake was the constant rumbling, deafening cacophony of reeking fart’s being released on a constant basis. Such was the quantity of flatulence that the building itself, as large as it was, would occasionally creak and jostle as waves of motions propagated though the fat mass of the audience.
The air was filled with a cloying mixture of body odour, greasy and sweet snacks of such portions that they could feed entire households, and methane, tinged with hints of hundreds of past meals. All the while, a serious awards ceremony was occurring at the same time.
Entitled “The Equestrian Fashion Awards”, this event was dedicated to celebrating the talented individuals who paved the way in the industry and set an example for quality and professionalism. Needless to say, with the most recent upheavals to weight, body positivity and seemingly the entirety of society as a whole, the very industry had been on a knives edge. Either adapt or die. So many of the previous year’s winners hadn’t even made an appearance. So far, a handful of awards had been accepted, one of the notable ones being ‘Designer of the year’, a title given to an extremely ecstatic and monumentally obese Extravaganza.
“And…now… the one… huff… you’vuuurrppp… been waiting… for. Model… gasp… of the…frrrppbbttt… year!” A blue coloured unicorn Stallion wheezed out into the microphone, his immobile form resting in a magically powered scooter, his sweat stained suit trying to display even a modicum of professionalism. The announcement was met with a mixture of claps, belches, and farts. Nodding the best he could manage with his stiff, roll crowded neck, a small envelope was produced from his pocket. Tearing open the golden covering, a small card was produced, held in a light blue aura. “The winner… gasp… is… Bowstringuuuurrppppp!!!”
Stomping applause filled the hall. Admittedly, it was an obvious pick. The Pegasus had been on the front of almost every magazine, billboard and more recently, food packaging. Her body was plastered everywhere, and still, ponies adored her. From the side of the stage, a low, straining hum could be heard. Emerging, was what could only be described as a simply immense pile of adipose tissue, perched atop a cart-like wagon. The blob was covered by a hot air balloons worth of material, composing her current dress that was already straining to contain the sheer amount of Pegasi lard that caked her figure.
Her ass was a mind bogglingly vast size. Each cheek was as large, if not larger than most of the audience members present. Great creases, folds and dimples were dotted across the bulk of those vaguely ovoid shaped mounds. Her tail poked above the pair, utterly minuscule in comparison to orbs it limply rested on. Massive pillar-like thighs swelled out under her, their sheer size, in combination with her butt, ensuring that she was confined to a sitting position indefinitely. Said thighs blanketed over her knees, sagging onto already huge calves that were beginning to suck her feet in.
Resting atop her ass, ringing slabs of back fat blossomed and grew to compliment the great girth of her love handles. So large were these accordion-like rolls that her wings were trapped between them. Though, her wings hadn’t been used in such a long time, simply due to the effort of keeping hundreds of pounds of blubber off the ground. Her belly filled all the remaining space at the front of her mobility device. Formed from two rolls filled with overnourished lard, they formed a counterweight that made sure she didn’t flip onto her back. They had grown so large that they extended past her trapped feet, acting like a blanket of her own making as the furthest parts oozed over the edge of the cart, the immense pull of gravity tugging at the edges. Her cavernous belly button could swallow a foreleg whole, so deep was the crease between the folds that only her fissure-like ass crack rivalled it.
Pillow like breasts ballooned atop her gut. As large as they were, each larger than her rounded head, in comparison to the rest of her they seemed almost comically small. Those milky, fat filled mounds jostled and sloshed with every movement, as did the rest of her doughy, gelatinous body. Her arms were composed almost entirely from pillowy slab, her bingo wings, and forearms so big that they made bending them an incredibly difficult task, especially since her bloated, sausage-like fingers were, like her feet, being sucked in. Lastly, her face was almost unrecognisable. A neckroll that at this point had merged with her swaddling jowls and cascade of chins, giving her already rounded out complexion an even greater mass of flab. Amber eyes could still be seen, poking between her mane and her vision blocking cheeks.
Simply put, she was one of, if not the largest pony alive. Trundling across the creaking stage, her fingers manipulated a simple remote control digging into her wrist. Stopping just shy of the hilariously small lectern, a golden trophy was levitated up towards her by the Stallion presenting the show. In addition, he also moved the microphone up towards her face. A few moments passed in (relative) silence, as she got her thoughts together, catching her breath, ready for a speech. A speech that was abruptly cut off by herself. PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRBBBBRRPPPPTTTTPPP!!!!! FFRRRPPPBBTTT!!! BBRRPPT! An immense concussive blast of her own making ripped from the depths of her rear like artillery fire. Such was the power, that her body undulated around from the propagating motion, her outfit straining and stretching as it did so, only just managing to stay intact, despite the literal rolls of material that composed it.
As she sat there, surrounded by thousands of ponies that were clapping or cheering for her, seemingly cheering on her vile expulsion, she considered how much better her life was. Before, she was more of a shut in, relying on her friend to support her. Now… she was worth millions of bits, could afford anything she every wanted. But most of all, she was content. Despite how gassy, slobby and the sheer scale of her obesity, she didn’t mind it. Afterall, when everypony seems to love you for those precise reasons, and she made a shed load of money from it, who cares how large she got? Clutching the golden statue, a few beading tears of happiness rolling down her face, she mumbled out a couple of words between panting and belching.
“I…am… so grateful… to have… such supportive… gasp… friends… to help… phew… me… to… encourage… haaa… to strive… to…huff… greater… uurrrpppp… and wider… horizons… fffffrrrppptt. Extravaganza, Cobalt… Cardigan and… most importantly… my best… friend… Berry Pie. If I… Boouurrp… have anypony to thank… for being here… bbrrppt… it’s those three. I thank… everypony who… supported me this… wheeze… far… and I hope to… continue to inspire others… to pursue… their own goals. Thank… you… Manehatten.” As she finished, an eruption of applause filled the hall, the blobby Pegasus lounging there basking in the praise. Now, she knew truly, that this lifestyle was worth every moment… after she got another few cake’s that was, she hadn’t had anything to eat in at least a quarter of an hour.