The Everfree forest. The name alone is enough to send most creatures quaking in fear. Much of the expansive forest is covered by a perpetual Twilight, the canopy above so dense with vegetation that almost all light is blocked from reaching the ground below. Plants of all varieties crowded between the gnarled, twisting trees, a great many of those imbued with strange, wild magics most frightening. The thick bushes, shrubs, and ferns provide excellent cover for all manner of beasts great and small. From the ferocious Hydra, the mare-eating Manticore, and the petrifying Cockatrice, there is nary a creature in the depths that wouldn’t be able to end a ponies life in one fell swoop.
And as luck would have it, the terrain is just as actively hostile towards travelers. Wide rivers snake their way through, even the strongest of seaponies would be powerless against the current. Deep chasms spring up seemingly at random, able to swallow up nary but the tallest of buildings, as great pits of mud attempt to ensnare anypony straying from the perilous paths. There were many, many good reasons why any logical sapient creature should stay as far away from the accursed forest as possible. One would have to be tough, creative, and somewhat insane to even consider living in such a hostile place. And yet, that is precisely where one zebra lived, going by the name of Zecora.
A large, gnarled tree rose from the middle of a clearing, the additions to its exterior though set it apart from the rest of the thick vegetation. Upon its thick, snaking roots, a plethora of masks lay. Each was a bright visage of an equine, the wood masterfully carved into shape by hand, each mask a work of art in of itself. Handing from the branches, coils of vines dangled and swayed in the breeze, bumping occasionally into cords or string and rope hanging alongside them. At the end of these strings, bottles hung. Within them, a veritable rainbow of colourful liquid sloshed back and forth, held inside by thick, battered corks.
Inset into the side of the tree, and either side of the door was a pair of windows, crooked and offset from one another as they curled up the bulk of the tree. Made from rough glass, it was somewhat difficult to see through. A white and black figure was standing next to a large pot, carefully adding a handful of some plant to the mix. Suddenly, the windows were filled with a bright flash of green, the surrounding gloom lit up, causing several small animals to scatter in fright. The interior of the hut was filled with a plume of grey smoke, the door bursting open a moment later.
In a burst of noxious fumes, the zebra stood. She coughed and sputtered, fanning the air with her hand as the smoke billowed forth. Her chest heaved, trying to stifle another cough with the back of her hand. “...a note to be taken, If I mix cryoberries with mancubid I’ll be shaken.” She sputtered in rhyme. Managing to suck down a few breaths, she turned back to her home, sighing as the last of the gas dissipated. Walking down the steps, Zecora stepped over to the half-full cauldron. Her nose twitched in disgust from the foul stench brimming from the pot. Retrieving a pair of thick fabric gloves, she hefted the cauldron from the coals. Her toned arms flexed, lugging the hefty pot towards the sink. Pushing past a curtain of beads, she unceremoniously dumped the rancid mixture in, watching the toxic green liquid swirl down the plughole.
“It doesn’t matter that I made a terrible concoction in vain, I’ll just experiment and try again, and hope that it won’t end in pain.” She spoke, putting the pot back down with a loud thud. Pulling the gloves off, she let her thin, calloused fingers free, adjusting the brown fabric that could charitably be called a top and skirt. Though nopony objecting to her presence in Ponyville, she didn’t care much for ‘normal’ pony clothes. To be fair, she had tried some on, but Zecora found they were much too flimsy to wear in the Everfree. Surprisingly, they didn’t take too well to being pulled through thorny bushes and dense mud. The cloth she wore was good enough for what it was and suited Zecora just fine, even if she showed off rather more skin than what might be acceptable in polite society.
Turning towards her shelves, the zebra took stock of her ingredients. From end to end, all manner of plants and fluids sat, held within bottles, boxes, and pots of many shapes and sizes. “Now that that mess has been finished and done, let’s see if I can have some fun!” Leafing through the piles upon piles of miscellaneous reagents and additives, she came across vials and containers she wasn’t aware she still had, a small handful being completely empty. She chuckled, laughing at a small thought. “I can’t let Twilight see how untidy I am, I think I’d make her faint in a panic, then I’d be in all sorts of a jam.”
Smiling, she pushed aside a few more containers, taking the briefest of glances at the labels they had. Pausing, she reached over, pulling out something right at the back. “What is this I have here… Gula Berries? I have not seen these for many a year.” She paused, tapping her chin as she turned the glass container over. Inside, around two dozen ovoid-shaped fruits rolled around, no larger than a ripe raspberry. Each was a vibrant purple colour, oozing with a heavy juice that stained the glass. Unscrewing the lid, she let a number of them tumble into a mortar. Taking the pestle in her other hand, she began to crush them into a paste. Under the hefty stone tool, they were pulverized in short order.
Upending the vessel into the cauldron, she let the pulp mix with the water inside. Watching it begin to boil, she rifled through her collection, the sounds of clinking glass accompanying her mumbles. “No… that wouldn’t quite work… now that would probably end in some strange quirk...hmm.” She paused, picking up a pair of jars. “Now what can I see right at the back? A bottle of ‘Otens Shame and Leviathan’s Wrack? I don’t recall when and where I found these, the effects they have upon the brew I must hope they please.” She unscrewed the lid of the wrack, a pungent seaside smell hitting her instantly.
Many broad-leafed pieces of seaweed were packed tightly together. As she turned it in her hoof, the light caught the fronds of the plant, glittering and shimmering like the scales on a fish. The other jar emitted a far more familiar smell, the smell from deep within the depths of a forest. Inside, prickly vines were coiled like barbed wire, slowly springing out the top of the opened jar. Upon the stems of the prickly vegetation, Zecora could see several light pink flowers protruding forwards. With her quick finger, she nabbed a handful of the buds, crushing them and adding them to the bubbling pot. These were followed by a few of the wracks, leaves floating on the roiling purple surface as they slowly shriveled up in the liquid, spreading a colourful oil through the mix.
She stared into the roiling pot, inhaling the heady fumes that it was producing. Slowly, she watched as the hues amalgamated together, becoming one singular tone. She left it to boil for a while longer, stirring slowly so as to not agitate any of the ingredients. But nothing seemed to happen, no violent magical reactions or explosions, nor any toxic fumes. Just the quiet sound of it bubbling away atop the coals, spreading its pleasant scent around the room. Giving it a final stir, she tapped the excess off the spoon, grabbing a ladle and bottle from the nearby table. Dipping it in and pulling back out, she decanted it into the bottle, sealing it in with a cork.
It had retained much of the colour from the Gula berries, the other ingredients dulling it down to a cool lavender tincture instead. The mixture was a little thicker than water, reminding her of hot syrup on a pancake. She paused, savouring the image in her head, a small growl emanating from her middle. A light blush came to her cheeks as she looked to the kitchen where a half-eaten sandwich sat. “It seems that all this hard work has made me ravenous, just give me a moment to finish my tests then I’ll plug the hole in my gut so cavernous.” She turned the bottle over in her hands, before uncorking it and letting a drop settle on her tongue.
She let it sit for around a minute. The taste itself was nothing too special. Potions were known for their magic effects, rather than their flavour after all, though she did note it wasn’t unpleasant. What she was looking for was an overwhelmingly bitter taste. A little bitter was alright, but too much meant that the potion was potentially poisonous. As would a stinging, burning sensation too. It was much better to risk her tongue being hurt for a while than to have a suite of toxins floating around her body. Fortunately for her, this mix had neither. Satisfied she wasn’t going to end up dead or in Ponyville ER, she brought the potion to her lips, chugging the mixture in but a few mouthfuls.
Like her comparison with hot syrup, the liquid flowed well, and the decent flavour meant that it wasn’t a chore to swallow. She’d had poor experiences with many horrendous tasting potions before, leaving her retching and heaving from their abominable aftertaste. Draining the last drops, she set the bottle down, walking over to a small book. Picking up a quill, she began to scribble down a few notes. About the mixing process, ingredients, anything useful to help replicate the potion if it turned out to be useful. Right about now, it didn’t seem to have any major initial effects, and she was content to wait until something did finally occur.
Unfortunately for Zecora, her body seemed to have other ideas. As time progressed, the initial hunger she’d experienced only seemed to be getting worse. Minutes ticked by and she’d hadn’t noticed any apparent side effects. Admittedly, her ramping hunger was distracting her rather significantly, multiple voracious groans emitting as she clamped her hand to her middle. “Nrrghhh… can’t eat now, have to keep focused somehow. So hungry… no time to rhyme, I need to feed!” She shouted in frustration. Discarding her quill on the table, she wasted no time dashing to the kitchen.
Zecora grabbed the half-eaten sandwich, shoving it into her mouth with uncharacteristic ferocity. The simple lunchtime snack was decimated, consumed in a few hasty bites. Normally, that would have been plenty to keep her feeling fine. And despite that, her belly still craved more. Darting to the cupboard, she flung the doors open. A large collection of fruits and veggies sat. Most notably, a massive box of apples. Ever since her relationship with Ponyville had been resolved, many of the residents gave her various items as make-up gifts. Applejack insisted the Zebra got a large shipment of apples every month, even though she could never quite finish them before they spoiled.
Now though, she regarded the small stack of fruits with hungry eyes. Pulling it from the shelf, she grabbed apple after apple. She groaned as the sweet, tart taste flooded across her mouth, a burst of juice washing over her taste buds. The sounds of crunching filled the room as she devoured apple after apple, leaving nothing but a core picked clean. They were certainly clean, but the zebra’s hands and face were becoming sticky with excess juice. “More… I need more, otherwise, I may just eat a boar!”
The box was deep, but so was her hunger. A few apples suddenly turned to a dozen, then two dozen as she grabbed the last few at the bottom. Her teeth tore through their crunchy exteriors, practically inhaling them as though they were mere potato chips. ‘Boouurrrpppppp!!!’ A rumbling belch exploded forth, as loud as a hydra’s roar. And despite having consumed a tree’s worth of fruit, her hunger still remained. Her abdomen matched her belch for volume, growling in seeming blindness to the meal she’d just consumed, as has Zecora become blinded to her own body’s changes.
Such rampant hunger and gluttony had to have an effect, which was evident by the very obvious swell of her belly. She looked like she was a few months pregnant, a very large food baby had formed. It groaned and blorped, complaining about the monster meal it was forced to hold, but somehow it stretched without issue. No redness or stretch marks associated with such rapid growth marred the surface. Her belly, body, and hunger just seemed to expand as readily as a balloon would. Instead of feeling full, she still felt the exact opposite, brain screaming for more. And so, that’s exactly what Zecora did. The fridge door slammed open, hinges creaking from the extreme motion. A smorgasbord of dairy greeted her, to which it took Zecora no time at all to grab the gallon carton of full-fat milk. Ripping the cap off, she pressed the jug to her lips, groaning in delight as the creamy liquid flowed in. Her throat bulged and rippled with each swallow. “Ulp, ulp, ulp, ulp…. booouurppppp!!!” Another belch rippled forward, milk dribbling down her face in long obvious trails across her dark stripes.
Simply dropping the empty carton, she reached back in. Returning with a quarter of a wheel of cheese and a grape bunch, the zebra wasted no time sending the complimentary snacks to her waist. Reveling in the taste of the two, she utterly ignored how her belly was now pressing into the fridge's opening. Looking like she was bearing twins, and soon triplets, the stripes ringing her middle continued to stretch and warp as the monstrous hill of belly wobbled and stretched further and further out, the sounds of digestion intermingling with the false screams and pangs of hunger. She’d glutted on enough food to feed a large family for a day, her face and hands a mess with juice and other food detritus. She rummaged through more and more of the increasingly bare fridge. A few assorted veggies were disposed of in short order, as was a leftover slice of pizza and a tall pot of yogurt.
Throwing the empty salad drawers behind her, she gave the barren fridge one final scan, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the kitchen. The impact instead broke one of the hinges, the door hanging open ajar. Crouching down, her belly pressed firmly against the floor and her legs. A moan left her lips as the smooth orb squashed against the cold floor, demanding yet more nourishment. Opening the cupboard she smiled at the contents. What appeared to be an entire shelf of Sugarcube Corner was sitting inside, which wasn’t too far from the truth. Pinkie was sure to give the Zebra a whole smattering of baked goods whenever she saw her, and indeed anytime she felt like it, oftentimes turning up at her hut at the strangest of times with a box full of freshly made desserts. She couldn’t eat them all, and so she’d asked Twilight to cast a stasis spell over the cupboards inside to keep the treats fresh until she wanted them.
Now though, she needed them. She needed them all. Passing through the stasis field, a baker's dozen of cookies was dragged out. Held in a paper bag, it was torn apart in a shower of crumbs as she shoved her hands inside. Each was as wide as her hand, encrusted with huge chocolate chips. Regardless of size, they were still destined for the same place. In just a minute or two, they were all gone. The same was true for boxes of brownies and doughnuts, trays of buns, and packages of eclairs. Grabbing an eclair in each hand, she took one look at the chocolate glazed pastries, both larger than a hotdog. It was only brief before she crammed them in. Sloppy munching filled the air as she tried to power through the creamy interiors. Spurts of cream and splotches of chocolate were added to the collage of colours her face was developing into. Her hands too were slathered in all manner of bakery detritus, solved moments later as Zecora ran her tongue along her digits and palms.
Decimating around half the cupboard, she looked like she’d swallowed a beanbag. A vast mound of white and black filled the space in front of her, forcing Zecora to push past it to reach further into the cupboard. Gurgling and sloshing madly, she couldn’t help but touch everything around her, simply by the virtue that her belly extended so far in front. Thousands upon thousands of calories sat inside, that count increasing to an unfathomably high number as Zecora introduced an entire cake to the pile. Everything that she dragged into the burgeoning void of her stomach tasted divine, a pleasure she’d denied herself because of the risk the Everfree possessed. And now, months’ worth of gifts were decimated in mere minutes.
Strawberry frosting was splatter against her cheeks as she grabbed the last handful of cake. Belching, she relieved some pressure, finding the drive to stuff it in. Her chewing was slowing down, however. Grinding to a crawl, she forced the last of the dessert in, using her hands to force it down. Swallowing, her throat rippled and the last of it disappeared. Letting the cake platter slip off her belly, it rolled briefly, before colliding with a mound of trash. Finally, her hunger had been satisfied. The moment the desire to glut herself passed, a wave of fatigue passed over her mind. She slumped forwards, her hands managing to stabilise herself upon the exercise balls worth of food currently inside her impossibly stretched stomach.
She opened her mouth, her yawn transitioning into a rolling belch. Wordlessly, she eased herself to her feet, grabbing onto furniture to balance her horrendously forward heavy figure. Squashed down under its immense weight, her legs were forced apart to make room for the mother of all food babies. A few more unsteady waddles and sidesteps, she collapsed into her double bed, sprawling out as she was forced to awkwardly shuffle and pivot herself. So tired, she ignored the creaking of the frame and springs, a few loud metallic pings echoed as her heavy gut piled up. Laying on her side, the plush bedspread and the beginnings of a food coma put her to sleep almost instantly. Soon, the chorus of blorps and gurgles was accompanied by Zecora’s light snores, as her body set about digesting the mountain of calories stored within.
When Zecora awoke, she felt horrible. Blearily opening her eyes, her head pounded something fierce, bringing a hand to the side of her head. Wincing from the internal thumping reverberating through her skull, she pushed the covers off, staring up at the ceiling. “Oooohhh, whatever did I do last night, my mind is full of pain so fierce and bright.” Shimmying herself to the edge of the bed, she moaned in annoyance as her body awkwardly rocked and shook back and forth her usual motions far less fluid. She just felt heavy and sluggish. Not to mention a very notable feeling of discomfort around her face and hands. They felt dirty and sticky, drawing another wince as she rubbed her fingers together, some of the dried-on mess flaking off.
Stepping to her left, she traveled the short distance to the bathroom, far more arduous than she remembered. Her legs didn’t seem to want to stay close together, limbs pressed apart by something and forcing the zebra to adopt a slight waddle. The headache was dissipating, and yet the cloying, slothful feeling gripping her form refused to leave. She could feel parts of her body moving in unfamiliar ways, her clothing feeling uncomfortable and tight, rubbing against her skin. Parts of her body seemed to rub against each other, her thighs chief amongst them. Giving the bathroom door a shove, a jiggling, jostling sensation shot through her. She panted a little, the effort needed to lift the limb was more than a little concerning to her.
Her feet padded across the cool stone flooring, making her way to the adjacent sink. “I really must find out why everything is so strange, hopefully then I can make a change…” her rhyme was cut short, transfixed upon the mirror. A face, as wide-eyed as herself, stared right back. Both familiar and utterly foreign, she could hardly recognise herself under the level of rotundness that had swelled her features out to such an unbelievable size. Where once her cheekbones and jawline had been well defined, instead a hefty set of jowls and a prominent double chin had appeared. She watched in muted horror as every slight movement of her mouth sent her newly acquired face fat into motion, allowing her to catch slight glimpses of a third chin beginning to move in.
This gently brushed against the budding ring of neck flab, pushing out onto her thoroughly padded shoulders. Taking an unsteady step backward, Zecora continued to goggle at her body, slowly turning and being rewarded with yet more confirmations that she’d been turned into a blimp of lard. Her butt appeared to be where most of her gains had accumulated. Her modest booty was now a pair of immense striped orbs, the twin mounds seeming quite capable of collapsing any hapless couch they came across. Supporting them was a set of pillar thick thighs, which in turn was being held aloft by her doughy lower legs. Glancing down, she was taken aback. So focused upon her lower half in the mirror, she’d somehow missed her upper half. Blocking her view was the twin forces of her breasts and belly.
The ovoid orb that had once been her belly had shrunk, replaced by a smaller, yet no less unsubstantial roll ringed glob of blubber that sloshed about uncontrollably. It sagged down, resting just a hair above her knees, each fold as thick as a pillow. Her clothing had taken a significant blow, the material stretched and distorted around her overblow figure. Zecora’s bottoms were almost entirely covered by her belly and ass, the taut fabric forming a partial muffin top as it forced her belly up. The story was much the same further north, where her now impressive rack threatened to pop out of her struggling top. “Oh my, my poor belly, it now wobbles and shakes like jelly! This whole debacle has caught me off guard, and now my butt and thighs are full of lard.” She continued to stare, lifting up and dropping a few rolls, her hands sinking into the doughy surface. Gingerly, she grabbed her flannel from the side of her basin, wetting it and wiping away at the stains plaster across her face. She winced at every slight touch and swipe, her complexion wobbling and undulating uncontrollably.
As her eyes slowly crawled across the mirror, she spotted something behind her. Turning around, she could see a discarded plastic box sitting in the door of her bedroom, a mess of brown crumbs spilling out. Instantly, yesterday’s events came flooding back to her mind. Like a fog had been lifted, she gasped at the sudden realisation. Moving as fast as her column thick legs could carry her, she waddled into the kitchen, her suspicions confirmed. “What an utter mess! I never do such a thing unless under duress…” she grimaced at the room that had played witness to a battlefield of gluttony. Cupboard doors wide open, as was the fridge which, a trail of water dribbling from the entrance from where an empty carton of cream hung out. Worktops here were littered with vegetable detritus, a pile of apple cores was steadily browning. And on the floor, a veritable ocean of plastic, paper, and food scraps laid, Zecora managing to avoid stepping on a frosting splattered cake plate.
“From a few simple herbs created such a destructive potion. No matter, I know of another brew to undo all this commotion.” Sighing again at the rubbish pile, she turned about, waddling towards her potion journal. Scribbling down notes a few notes regarding her latest connection, she then flicked back, leafing through hundreds of strange combinations she’d tried and tested in the past, either on herself or on willing volunteers. She fumbled, her enlarged digits finding it far harder to find purchase on each page. Each time one slipped between her sausage-like digits, her annoyance was further amplified, causing her fumblings to worsen and causing her to tear a few pages.
Zecora huffed, taking a few deep breaths and forcing herself to calm down. “This is no time to lose my head, keep yourself calm and collected to work the problem instead.” Slowing down, the damage her fattened fingers caused diminished, and soon she found herself on the page she needed. The title, simply written as ‘the weight loss potion’, seemed to be easy enough. From her scrawled handwriting, it was noted that a small dosage was easily able to remove the slight bit of winter weight she’d developed whilst staying at Twilight’s house one particularly cold Hearthswarming. She had been rather gassy afterward, but it’d passed soon enough.
Preparing her cauldron, she moved in a loop, going from the book to the pot and finally to the ingredient shelves, rummaging between the hundreds of bottles. A process made far, far harder by her mass. It seemed as though her fat had a mind of its own, actively conspiring against the obese zebra to prevent her from brewing the potion. Once again, her clumsy fingers found it harder to grab, struggling to grab the more delicate flasks and vials, on more than one occasion almost dropping them. Her arms and belly would often knock over other jars, her spatial awareness utterly warped by the extra inches of flesh. The real kicker was her ass cheeks which were like wrecking balls, two pendulous hills that under the slightest suggestion would swing around violently.
On accident, Zecora had managed to send a side table flying as her vast badonkadonk came around in a lazy arc, the energy imparted managing to splinter one of the legs. And speaking of legs, her immense weight was dragging her down. Every roll and fold of flab, every overhand and every curve was constantly being dragged down by gravity. Hundreds of extra pounds she simply wasn’t used to bearing upon herself. She panted and gasped, her work slowing to a crawl as she ferried the last of the required ingredients to the pot. A box filled with mint leaves, she ground up a small handful of them, creating a green paste. The smell they gave off was strong, her belly gurgling as it brought forth a flood of mental images. Another growl emitted as she pictured the chocolate and mint cookies she had last night, both soft and chewy, but with good firmness as well.
“No! Stop these silly pictures and mental ploys, the brew should allow my mind to be free of such culinary joys.” Steeling herself, she tipped out the mint, falling into the mixture with a splash. Mixing as fast as she dared, she tried to ignore the feeling of her bingo wings sloshing and jiggling about as she stirred, the great ham-sized lumps of arm fat colliding with her breasts, propagating the wobbling throughout her entire being. Fortunately, the rather pungent odour emitted by the brew helped to deaden these thoughts, the liquid inside turning a scarlet red as it was finally ready.
Using a ladle, she scooped out a cupful of the mixture, narrowly avoiding scolding her tongue at the last second. Letting it cool for a few moments, she downed it in a single mouthful, throat minutely rippling as she swallowed. “Blergh! I forgot about the rancid taste, thankfully I swallowed it all in great haste.” wiping a few stray droplets of the mixture from the corners of her mouth, she could hear her belly making all manner of sounds as the potion settled inside. “From what I recall, it took a rather long while for the effects to work, I may as well spend my time clearing my mess, I’m going to be in for the long haul.”
Psyching herself up for what she knew would be a long, tedious job, she took a few small breaths, a small burp coming out a moment later. Ignoring it, she waddled her way to the kitchen, beginning the arduous task of clearing up the small mountain of trash. Finding a roll of garbage bags, she set about what appeared to be a simple but easy task. She was correct in that assumption. True, it would be easy, but once again, her own anatomy was working against her. With almost all the litter on the floor, Zecora was forced to bend down to get at it. A task that was once so much simpler when she didn’t weigh a quarter ton. Fighting against her boobs and belly, the squishy flesh oozed and sloshed about as she fought against the mass, just about managing to grab a few boxes. “Nrrrghhh… huff… oh I can’t wait to be free from all this fat and junk, all of this mass has too much mass in the trunk.”
Using her free hand, she pushed down hard on her gut, trying to force it out of her way. At the same time, another, far louder belch rumbled out, her belly grumbling and blorping angrily. “What on earth is… Boooouuurrpppppp… going on here!” She exclaimed, practically jamming her hand in her mouth to block another raucous belch. Placing the garbage bag on the side, she noticed it took considerably less effort than before. She smiled, actually feeling the pounds melting away by the second. Her grin, however, slowly began to morph into a grimace. “Uuurrppp!!! Brruupphh!! Merciful Creator, was what I put in that brew some sort of traitor?” Indeed, she could still feel the weight dropping off her fairly rapidly. And yet, she didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. Managing to peek past her pendulous boobs, she watched in muted horror as her belly appeared to be swelling out wider.
Rather than the heaviness that pulled on her, instead, she found everything to be far floatier, for lack of a better word. The many creases, folds, and rolls that prevailed across her obese body began to disappear, developing into smooth, uniform curves. In fact, her oversized anatomy no longer seemed to sag like a water balloon, but rather appeared to act like one filled with air, pushing out and rising upwards. Another bout of gas, she watched as her belly pressed out even further, bouncing back and forth like some sort of.... “...Blimp! It makes sense why I was so…. Uuurrraappp… gassy before now. All this air has come from the fat in my rump, which is making me... buuurrppp… big and round as if from a pump!” Waddling back, she could feel her legs being pushed further and further apart. Her thighs swelled further and further out as the strange gas flooded into every part of her anatomy.
‘Fwump!’ Zecora flinched, looking towards her hands. The formerly pump digits had been replaced with puffy ones, the inherent tautness they possessed making it impossible to bend them beyond a few degrees without them springing back. Clumsily pivoting, the weight from before had mostly vanished, the inherent buoyancy of the gas in her system counteracting it. Staggering into the main room of her house, she was stopped in her tracks for a few moments. Given her neck’s lack of flexibility and the general distractions offered by the rest of her ballooning form, she hadn’t paid too much mind to her rear quarters. Her stripy butt had inflated so large that both cheeks were pressing into either side of the doorframe, wedging her in tight.
“Nnnrrgghh… uurppp… Please let me free, from my house I must flee!” Using all her might, she set about pushing and pulling her ass through, her face bright red as her flanks squeaked and groaned like rubber, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her form with each grope to those colossal mounds. She struggled on and on, freeing more and more of her oversized booty, the process becoming all the more difficult as she was worn down, and her butt grew larder. Letting loose a scream mixed with a smattering of belch, a loud ‘pop!’ issued, and she herself pulled free. Being held in place by the frame, she’d been blinded to how light she’d become, the long bouncing hops she took reminding her of footage she’d seen of ponies on the moon.
Her belly pushed out further and further, looking more and more like an oversized beachball, consuming her body as the gas searched out more and more space to fill and inflate. Her face became a new target, her numerous chins replaced by a pair of tennis ball-sized cheeks that pressed further into her peripheral vision. Her neck looked like a miniature inner tube, rising further up as her head was sucked down. Her head could no longer turn, leaving her unable to see anything other than her continually bloating cheeks. The only thing she could perceive was the electric jolts of pleasure that arched along her body, feeling how her overinflated skin rubbed and squeaked, deepening her already rosy cheeks that shade darker. Wider and wider, her body groaned, grumbled, and squeaked as Zecora felt her limbs pull inwards. The pressure exerted upon them was growing so intense, she couldn’t them at all. Teetering on her feet, and with her clothes stretched to their absolute limits, she winced as she watched her arms begin to suck into her torso, forced outwards at her sides. The zebra’s fore and upper arms had become little more than a stack of concentric shapes, her fingers wiggling as they began to be absorbed into her greater bulk.
After a few more moments of growth, the zebra turned inflatable began to rise up. Try as she might, her legs just couldn’t touch the ground, the motion doing little but causing her to spin around, facing towards the floor as she rose higher and higher. “I am far beyond the size when I was plump and fat, there must be some secret under its hat. When I tried before, I was gassy for a few moments more.” She gasped, interrupted shortly after by more burps. “Then that is why I’m so big! Comparing the gas to fat is like comparing a branch to a twig. The gas is far lighter… which is why my body is getting… mmppphhh… far bigger and tighter.” She groaned, feeling her thoroughly tortured clothes continue to cling on, digging fiercely into her swollen form.
“To be rid of this… gas, I must be frank and crass. I must belch until this is all gone…” She whimpered, with what felt like the umpteenth bout of gas she had to release. Suddenly, she felt something press against her back and ass. She bounced several times, her jumbo breasts gyrating from the impact. Finally, everything was still, and Zecora could grasp the sheer oddity of her current position. There was nothing that could quite describe the thoroughly distended and massively overinflated zebra, hanging like a bat from the ceiling above.
No longer resembling a living creature, she’d morphed into an uneven sphere of white and black, some 10 feet in diameter. The only thing discerning her from one of Pinkies novelty balloons was the very few parts of her anatomy still present. Chief amongst them being her breasts, with each boobie far, far exceeding traditional cup sizes, and only kept in check by an obscenely stretched top. Her legs and arms had devolved into puffy doughnut-like shapes, with a passing resemblance to a stack of tyres or rubber rings. Obscured by her considerable belly, the edges of her butt cheeks could be seen, each mound as large as a medicine ball. Her spiral cutie marks had been stretched out wide to accommodate their new canvases, with each being bigger than a colt. Between these mountains of plot, her tail flagged back and forth, partially trapped between the chasm booty it found itself in.
Sitting at the top of the comically proportioned equine, was her head. Only partially absorbed into the sphere of her body, her chipmunk-Esque cheeks puffed out wide, expanding and deflating slightly as she released belch after belch and moan. Finally, it seemed as though the expansion had stopped, the only creaks and groans being when she let loose a particularly powerful burp that sent her bouncing. From her unusual vantage point, she glowered down upon the potion below her, still gently bubbling away innocently inside the cauldron. “To think I was having such a nice a quiet day yesterday, now I much deflate and bounce about, for how long, I can’t say. But one thing I know for sure, testing brews is an idea so very poor, problems like these I will most certainty cure, if I keep myself from doing this sort of nonsense forevermore.”
