Bowstring and the Chunky Chagrined Cinematic

by MetalBrony20

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Fetish, Anthro, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 13971

In which Bowstring’s multi-ton movie star aspirations are challenged by the reluctant population of San Fransiscolt.

Fat has well and truly come to stay in Equestria. With the combined influence of highly addictive food and constant body positive advertising, vast swaths of Equestria has eaten itself into morbid obesity. Some parts, however, have been influenced to a much lesser degree, such as the city of San Fransiscolt. To help sway the locals, top model Bowstring is sent out there to star in a new blockbuster. However, Bow soon finds out the locals are far more stubborn than anticipated. 

This is a 13000 word commission for PrincessChaser on Furaffinity

This story contains:
-Fat
-Weight Gain - from obese to blob sized+
-Anthro
-Slob - Messy Eating/Burping/Farting
-Immobility
-Slight Profanity
-AU Equestria
-More OC's then you can shake a stick at

Published 2022-01-08 00:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-01-08 00:20:01 UTC

Chapter 1

A pleasant breeze blew across the platform of San Franciscolt station. Autumn was beginning to set in, and with the changing of the season came a change in the weather. The sun above shone with far less power than it had done just a few months ago, but it was still hot enough to bring a sweat to anypony caught in those rays for too long.

With the cooling breeze, came the strong smell of coffee and sweets. Wafting from a pair of open glass doors, the sight inside was a good reminder of why it was so easy to make a pony sweat nowadays. The shop was jam-packed with nearly two dozen equines, grabbing a coffee to start off their morning, or filling up on an equally jam-packed confection to tide them over until lunchtime. Despite how large the interior was, it was simply insufficient to handle the size of its patrons. Not a single mare or stallion could claim to weigh anything below 350 pounds. Nothing but useless, wobbling fat, that was squished and squeezed inside whatever ill-fitting clothing they wore.

Great slabs of belly flab oozed out of the bottom of shirts, just as skirts were lifted up by great mountainous orbs of wobbling butt blubber. The cafe had a great many rolls in stock, yet they couldn’t quite match up to the vast collection of flab rolls that swaddled arms, legs, and backs. This wasn’t just true for those inside the cafe, everypony in the station shared the same engorged appearance. From businessponies waddling around in a hurry to day-tripping gaggles of younger mares and stallions, not one pony was left un-marked by the touch of obesity. Some amongst their number had given up on walking, a few of the largest ponies confined to a variety of mobility devices instead, though this was a very small minority indeed.

On the platform, a slight rumble and vibration could be felt through the hard paving slabs. A prelude to the sounds of a train puffing into the station. The huge locomotive rumbled along the platform, bringing with it a procession of carriages. All painted a deep green, they coordinated perfectly with the train. Well, all except one. Sat right in the middle of the line was what appeared to be a freight car. It lacked the aesthetic touch that graced the rest of the cars, composed instead of hard, utilitarian angles, the paint flaking and exposing the bare metal and rust below.

Passengers began to spill onto the platform, just about managing to squeeze their way through the doorways. At the same time, one of the drivers got out from the front. Her uniform struggled to contain her enormity, pockets and folds of flab oozing from every part of her sweat caked form. Coal dust had generously been spotted across her form, her wobbly cheeks smeared with the stuff, with several handprints apparent across her boilersuit. Weaving between the hordes of passengers she approached the freight car. Before her was a huge sliding door, at least three times her width. Taking a deep breath, she grasped at the latch, panting as she leaned her full weight against the door. With a metallic squeal, the rusted mechanism gave way.

Bbbrrrbbbttpprrbtt!!! The instant the compartment was opened, a visible cloud of smog billowed out, accompanied by a deep rumbling burst of gas. Those that were closest gagged, their noses filled with a deep, organic stench. Methane mingled with the smell of dozens of half-digested foods. It was hard to pin down one exact stench, all blending together into one overpowering gust of odour. Caught in the slight wind, several paper bags fluttered out like disturbed leaves, each printed with the same logo ‘Berry Pie Bakeries’. A low, mechanical whine mingled with the hissing of steam from the train, both of which were overtaken by a rolling burst of flatulence that echoed through the interior, strengthening the smog that was just starting to peter out.

From the open door, a great mass pushed its way forwards. The electronic whine grew louder as a great mass of flesh ballooned from the doorway. Two immense rolls of belly fat were the first to appear amongst a great collection of rolls that gyrated and undulated like a great sea of white gelatin. Bouncing about upon the machine which could charitably be called a ‘mobility’ device, clear parts of anatomy could slowly be identified. Two lard drowned arms hung limply at their side, immense swells of bingo wings beginning to swallow the engorged forearms. A pair of breasts rested upon her upper belly, each mammoth, pillow-sized mammary held by a tent’s worth of fabric in the form of a simple top. A nice bright red, though the material was liberally spattered in a spectrum of different food stains and detritus, leading up towards their face.

Somewhat beginning to sink into the rest of their mass, a doughy neck roll merged into a cascade of chins, the oversized jowls wobbling as the owner slowly chewed away. Their bright yellow eyes could just about be seen beneath their long red mane and tennis ball-sized cheeks. The heavy-duty wheels of the mobility device crossed the slight gap between the carriage and the platform, the slight change in height causing the ponies’ entire form to madly jiggle about. The slight shift in gravity caused her body to sag forwards, the mobility device’s motor complaining from the sudden shift in speed. With the lurch forwards, the true sink of the mare’s weight was revealed.

Whilst her breasts, belly and other fat rolls certainly outweighed anypony else in the station, the two mountainous globs of butt flab were the clear champions of her weight. Atop each mound, the barest bit of a skirt laid, doing little at all to cover the rest of the saggy flesh that oozed forwards. So wide they were, that each cheek kissed the edges of the door frame, creating the slightest bit of pull on her bum, her cheeks flushing from the contact. At this point, each mound could quite happily double as an admittedly foul-smelling bean bag; each so soft and plush pair of soft masses that anypony would easily sink into. And like a bean-bag, these mounds were pockmarked with a plethora of cellulite dimples and creases, marring the great swaths of skin.

Even so, through the distortion of her folding, sagging flesh, one could identify a stylized image of a crossbow, the image creased by the strange canvas it had been projected onto. A simple image that identified this mass of lard and blubber as none-other than Bowstring. Using a small remote clutched in her flabby hand, the rear wheels slammed down with another heavy impact, the suspension creaking and groaning in protest. Adjusting the overwhelming stench, or just simply ignoring it, a crowd gathered around. Before anypony could say anything or do anything, a pair of suit-clad mares pushed their way through, using their weight to barge past the group.

“Ms. Bowstring, we’re here as your escorts. We have transport waiting to take you down to the studios.” Bowstring turned her head, the mound of face and neck flab making this endeavor rather difficult.

“Already? I’ve only just… buuurrrppppp… arrived here. I ought to check in at the hotel first…” Bowstring responded, managing to get the words out amongst heavy belches.

“Normally yes. However, Montage was very keen to meet with you and insisted we take you straight to set to meet with everypony.” One of them replied, adjusting their dark glasses. Getting no other response from the panting mare, they motioned her towards the station’s doors. Having no choice otherwise, she pressed forwards on her remote, the overworked scooter trundling along. Despite how slow she moved, the journey itself was straightforward. Trundling through the terminal, she was met with the same stares. Not unreasonable, considering the markedly different sizes on display.

Compared to a few years ago, the increase in weight the city had experienced was still extreme, but compared to locations like Manehatten and Canterlon. It wasn’t though they hadn’t seen immobile ponies before, or seen Bowstring in magazines or billboards. In-person, however, it was a whole different ball game. Nothing could quite brace them for the sight of a near ton mound of stinking equine flesh currently trundling its way through the middle of the concourse.

The gasps, the confused, disgusting comments, even as quiet as they were, were still heard by Bowstring. She ignored them, her nervousness about meeting with the director and the myriad of thoughts buzzing around her head helped to keep her from acknowledging them. It was certainly a different reception to those towns and cities in the east and centre of Equestria, that was for sure. Pushing open the front doors for her, the two escorts guided her outside. From there, it was just a short trip to her ride. In her mind, she imagined it would be a limousine, or some luxurious SUV. Unfortunately, the bulk she possessed would have been far, far too much for those to accommodate. Instead, a large van was parked there, a heavy duty ramp leading to the interior.

“Apologies Ms. but when Ms. Berry Pie sent us your dimensions, this was the smallest option available. I hope this won’t be a problem?” Bowstring said nothing for a moment, squaring up the boxy machine. It wasn’t ideal, sure, but then again, she had been riding in a slightly modified freight car for the best part of a few hours. Humming, she nodded, her expanse of face fat wobbling and squishing about from the slight motion.

Pressing forwards, she mounted the ramp. Her mobility device loudly complained, the slight increase in gradient straining the motor. Her belly pressed into the sides of the van, flesh being squished upwards as she forced her way inside. “Nnnffff… ooh it’s a bit… huff… of a tight fit… hahhh… when did Berry… phew… give you the measurements?”

“I think about… two weeks ago?”

“Well… that explains it. I’m a… uurrppp… growing mare you… pant… know. Nnrrrghhh… oh Celestia, I think my ass is a bit stuck!” Indeed, whilst her belly and love handles had just managed to squeeze in, her immense orbs of ass flesh were a different story. From the side of the van, a round mass of white ballooned from the back. Without any prompting, her escorts took one cheek each, leaning their own considerable weight into the mounds. Bowstrings cheeks flushed a deeper red, her sausage fingers mashing the forward button on the controls as she felt their own doughy forms become almost absorbed into her considerable mass. Little by little, they forced her through, the back of the van filled with a mixture of strained grunts, moans and bursts of rank flatulence. With a final shove, the last of her ass flesh crossed the threshold, the rear doors slammed home.

Inside, she was rather cramped, to say the very least. Her flesh touched every side of the van's interior, making her look like dough in a tin. A small bulb helped illuminate the space, accompanying the thin shaft of light spilling from the sliding hatch in front of her. Around her, she could feel the suspension shift from side to side as the two escorts got into the cab. The engine rumbled, and Bowstring felt her body begin to rock about as the vehicle turned this way and that. “We should be there in about half an hour, provided traffic is good.”

Bowstring hummed in acknowledgment, closing her eyes and letting gentle sloshing of her body lull her into a doze. Or, it would have done, had a sudden buzzing not rang through her ear. Jolting up (as much as an immobile blob can anyways), she strained with her left arm, tapping the small device latched to her ear. It was a definite struggle, what with the copious amounts of fat blocking and padding her joints, making a simple arm bend almost beyond her capabilities.

“Bowstring? You there, big girl?”

“Berry? Yeah… I’m here, you didn’t need to surprise me like that!” A bubbly laugh came from the other end of the earpiece, followed by a moment of wheezing and a muffled burst of flatulence.

“When have you ever not been surprised by a phone call?” A small moment of silence hung after the question, both parties laughing a moment late.

“Yeah, I guess so. Oh, before you ask, the train ride was fine. Bit cramped… huff… and I ran out of snacks halfway… urrpppp… there. And can you believe that I have to ride in the back of a van?”

“Well, that’s not too surprising. They haven’t taken to their weight gains as much as we have. But, after all, that why you’re over there now, to be a star and an… whew... inspiration to show those living in San Fransicolt.”

“Yeah, and who was it again that pushed me to take the role?”

“Don’t deny it, you were eying it up the moment it appeared. Fortunately, I was there to give you a little poke as all. What with your overall national fame, it was no wonder the director went for you. Your name alone will make theaters sell out for weeks. And hey, you were looking for a change from the norm, weren’t you? Mark my words, you enormous ass is going to be on the big screen… your big, wobbly, gassy backside…”

“Uuuhuh. Are you sure ‘giving me a break’ was the real reason? You just want an excuse to ogle me some more.”

“Bow… you know I don’t need an excuse to do that. We could be in a meeting with the literal princesses and I’d still be sneaking peeks at you.” A lurch suddenly propagated through her form, jolting Bow from her conversation. She could feel the van slowing down, taking slow, wide turns as it cruised along. “Well anyway, I’d best be heading off. I expect you’ll be arriving soon enough. Speak to you soon!”

“See you.” Bowstring finished, the line going dead after a few moments. A few more lurches the van slowed to a dead crawl, before stopping entirely. Everything was still for a few seconds more, her opening their doors and slowly marching around to the rear. The doors opened, the slight pressure against her rear dissipating as the twin orbs oozed forth. Bowstring sighed, mentally preparing herself for the struggle to extract herself from the cramped confines. A temper that was only flaring stronger from the hunger roaring in her gut.

Some ten minutes later, and copious amounts of sweat, excretion and gas, Bowstring was busy trundling through the studio doors. Her drivers had been considerate, parking in the nearest spot they could manage. Fortunate, as the temperature seemed to be far higher than it had been earlier on, Bow’s literal meters of insulating flab did little to keep her cool. Her dress clung to her flesh, the fabric thoroughly soaked in sweat. Every curve, mound, and overinflated fat roll was on full display, the copious amounts of sweat tricking off her like mountain springs doing little to improve her already strong stench.

Even so, she smiled widely as passed through the foyer. A rather substantial room, a few tables, and chairs facing across from the reception area. “Ah, Bowstring! It’s so wonderful to see you!” A sudden exclamation came from her side, causing Bowstring to awkwardly pivot the mobility scooter to find the pony talking to her. Sitting in a mobility device of their own was a unicorn mare. Weight-wise, Bowstring could see that the mare was a bit beyond the average she’d seen so far, the copious amounts of belly flab oozing around the scooters’ tiller a dead giveaway. It seemed as though the vast majority of her gains had accumulated there, with the rest of her form relatively thin. Between the mare’s chubby cheeks, a bright smile beamed forth, complementing the twinkle in her golden eyes.

“Oh! You’re Montage, aren’t you?”

“The very same. It’s a pleasure to meet you Bow. I apologise if I sound a little impolite, but the magazines really don’t do your size justice.”

“It’s fine… most ponies say the same anyways.” She laughed, Montage joining in moments later.

“I can see why. But then again, that’s one of the reasons why you’re cast… I’ll have to thank Berry for the recommendation because I mean, who better to play the princess than the princess of fashion herself?” Montage happily exclaimed. “Even since your video audition, I have been dying to get you down to the studios. Whilst this isn’t quite the same as the work you do on the catwalk, I’ve seen the passion you put into the shows. I’m more than confident that side of you will come out and shine for us.” Grabbing the scooters handles, Montage began to maneuver herself, making an approximation of a three-point turn.

“Well, if you follow me Bow, I’ll take you to the main set, I’m sure you’d love to meet your fellow co-stars wouldn’t you?” Bowstring hummed, the slight nod propagating throughout her form, undulating her body like jelly. Thumbing the controls, she followed behind Montage, pushing through another set of double doors. On the other side, Bow was greeted by a sight that wouldn’t look too out of place in Canterlot. Composing much of the room, the interior had been converted to look like a castle. She’d had the pleasure of visiting Canterlot, but the architecture seen on the set seemed so impractical and fantastic, she couldn’t help but grin.

Spiral pillars, grand mosaics, and embrasures jetting multicolored flame. It was all so over the top, so silly, but done in such a convincing way too. She was gobsmacked by the sight, a fact which hadn’t escaped the direction one bit, who was beside herself as her smile seemed to widen that inch more. Just about managing to turn her head around, she drank in the atmosphere, watching as ponies working on the set busy themselves with props, lighting and all manner of other small things Bow didn’t understand.

But, as she made her way through the room, her presence was noticed. More and more of the stagehands glance up from their work, catching sight of the mound of pegasi skirting her way around the set. By their size, Bowstring assumed they were locals, given that not a single one amongst them appeared to be more than 400 pounds. Muttering filled the air as she turned to co-workers, Bow hearing her name spoken a few times amongst the crowd. They talked about her, awed, and mostly disgusted. Their body language and expressions, those closest to her staff looking queasy as she passed by.

True, there’d been little fanfare at the station, but she was only there briefly. She felt more uncomfortable than she had for a good long while. Emotionally uncomfortable, the feeling surging through her guts and tingling up her spine. Caught off guard by the animosity around her, a fart bubbled it’s way forth, causing all those watching to flinch.

“Celetia’s tit’s, that is foul…”

“How is she a top model! I’ve smelt and seen pigs better than her…”

“Oh, I think I’m going to puke…”

“So, I’m going to be working with you, huh?” A flat, relatively emotionless voice came from her left. Standing just a few meters away was a pegasus. The first thing that struck Bowstring about the pony was their demeanor. Like the mares coat and mane colour, everything about her seemed standoffish. Her expression was a near mask, staring at Bow with a blank mask, one of her cool blue eyes covered by the curtain of mane obscuring it. Her lips were downturned, but not quite pulled into a scowl, the corners of her rounded cheeks creased somewhat.

By the standards she’d seen in the city, the mare appeared to be on the larger side, appearing to just be deep into morbid obesity. A rounded pair breasts sagged down onto a fairly modest belly, which in of itself was just beginning to form an apron of fatty meat, oozing down onto her considerable legs. Even from where she was standing, it was apparent that the majority of her gains had gone down below. Two huge mounds of adipose ballooned to the side and behind her, formed by the twin forces of her thighs and butt. These were connected to column-sized legs, the concentric overlapping of all the flab rolls gave the appearance of a stack of deflating inner tubes.

All this rampant obesity, hundreds of pounds of light blue flab was concealed beneath an almost laughable suit of costume armour. The costume designers clearly had little idea on how to design a piece of combat gear for someone so immense, the plating seemed to mostly accentuate the mare’s already considerable size in some areas, whilst hiding it in clothes. Where there was no plating, leather and chainmail covered instead, allowing the mare to take on a close approximation of a knight.

“Ah, Bowstring, this is Freeze Frame, one of your fellow actors. Freeze Frame, this is Bowstring, who is playing the part of the princess.” The armour clad mare took a few steps closer, the leather straps of her outfit creaking and groaning from the movement of her gelatinous form. Their frown deepened, regarding the immobilised blob of mare.

“I don’t like her, Montage.” She spoke, her voice just as icy as her name suggested. “How can you expect me to work with somepony so unkempt? It's her first day on set and she turns up looking and smelling like that?”

The words cut into Bowstring deeply, her emotions flaring. Montage cut in before she could respond, however. “Now now, Freeze. This is Bowstring, she’s a…”

“Top model in Manehatten. But acting in a movie is a far cry from wearing a few clothes and strutting around. Well, I guess it would be slowly wobbling around on that ridiculous machine of yours. I’m a professional, Montage. You can’t expect me to work with somepony so utterly incapable of doing even the most basic of tasks.”

“Screw you!” Bowstring growled, her fists clenched tightly in their sleeves of fat. “I guess being a professional actor also means you’re a professional bitch as well.”

“And I suppose being a “professional” model means that you're entitled to be a disgusting sack of lard then.” She cooly shot back.

“Ladies please! I think that’s quite enough of that… I’m sure one you two settle into your roles, you’ll move past this nonsense, yes? We’re here to make a movie, not squabble like school fillies.” Montage clumsily broke in, managing to get her scooter between the two, though they didn’t break eye contact, the pair glaring daggers at one another. “Bow, if you’ll come with me, I can show you to the dressing room and the break room.”

She perked up at the mention of food, but did little to calm her down. “Sure, sounds good to me.” Finally breaking contact, she slowly drove away, though she could feel the icy mare's eyes bore into her back. Her belly was empty, grumbling away to itself. But her mind was filled with swirling emotions she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The initial doubts she had about the role seemed to be coming back to her in full force. She let out a shuddering breath, steadying herself. She only hoped relations with the staff would get better in time.

Chapter 2

Bowstring winced as she made her way down the pavement, just managing to wipe a stray rivulet of sweat from her mountain of flesh. A mostly fruitless endeavor, considering just how boiling it was for the mare. A little bit of sweat was fine by her, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable to describe the deluge trickling across her form as bucket loads. Every square inch of overnourished lard oozed liquid as readily as her body oozed to consume as much space as possible. Her form wobbled and bobbed with each slight crack in the pavement she went over, and sloshed with every slight turn.

It was almost enough to distract her from her thoughts, bubbling away like a boiling pan. Her normal cool, calm nature that she’d come to adopt over the last year or so was coming undone, like somepony tugging at a thread on a dress, unravelling the stitching. Out of her peripherals, she watched as several ponies were forced to part ways on the sidewalk, the sheer circumference of Bowstring making it impossible for more than one individual to share it alongside her. A few comments drifted towards her, Bowstring’s frown only growing as the words drifted by.

Despite her best wishes, the reception and attention she got on set hadn’t improved in the slightest. In fact, due to Montage’s rather poor handling of the situation, the comments only seemed to worsen. Both crew and actors, the mutterings they made off stage or even directly to her face was wearing down upon her psyche. She continued to work the best she could in front of the camera, putting on what she and Montage thought was an excellent performance so far. But even so, she couldn’t escape the judgemental eyes that glowered at her whenever she made a mistake. Whenever she caused some damage to a bit of the set. Every time she belched, farted or sweated excessively, she could feel their eyes swivel over, several few mocking laughs and comments reaching her ears.

Right now, it also seemed as though Celestia herself was mocking her, insulted over Bowstrings role. She’d heard it multiple times… Princesses aren’t supposed to be this fat. True, Celestia and Luna weren’t exactly small themselves, but the gargantuan size she’d achieved dwarfed the Alicorns. And for this ‘punishment’, San Franciscolt had been hit with one of the worst heat waves in recent history. One only had to glance down the street to see how the tarmac seemed to ripple like water from the heat distortion. This issue had only further caused her hygiene to degrade, making her already considerable body odour that little bit worse. At any time of the day, her body reeked heavily, which caused her makeup to run on occasion.

Not only that, but to maintain consistency between shots, the costume she wore had to be replaced continually as great patches of sweat darkened the light pink and white dress. This caused a delay in filming, which only made the cast and crew all the more agitated by her. Even the addition of several large fans on set only marginally helped. These comments, so insulting, petty and targeted, were wearing her down mentally. Of course, she had received off-colour comments before this. But they were few and far between, and far outweighed by the positive ones she basked in. Now, it felt like she was fighting her way through a river to grasp at even a smidge of something positive, outside of the most hollow of praises when Montage encouraged them.

Fortunately, it was the weekend now, and she had some time off for a little while. She needed some time to get her mind out of this rut she’d been dug into, and nothing quite helped to calm her down quite like a good meal. Turning onto the next street, she spotted the familiar logo of Berry Pie, hanging above a well sized building. Weaving her way towards the entrance, Bow could see that the restaurant wasn’t quite the size of those around Manehattan. Gently approaching, she allowed the sliding glass door to slide back, allowing her to bathe in the mixture of greasy fast food and flatulence she’d come to expect. Cruising into the ordering area, she glanced around at the patrons, utterly engrossed in consumption.

Compared to those she’d seen around the train station and on set, those that occupied the immense seats exceeded them both in size and lack of decorum. Bowstring spied a pink mare, who’d lodged herself towards the back of the establishment. Her immense ass sprawled out behind her, as clumps of lard forced their way through seams in the mare’s struggling jeans. Their shirt rolled upwards, exposing several rolls of blubber cascading from her middle, forming at least three concentric rings of lard that forced their way around the table. A modest pair of breasts were being contained by the laughable inadequate top, the material stained by a collage of different sauces and other detritus.

Their white and purple toned mare swished about, pushed back as the mare unleashed a ferocious belch, causing a handful of the other patrons to glance their way in disgust, causing the mare to stuff a huge sloppy burger into her mouth. Indeed, Bowstring saw many of the customers giving some of the more slobby individuals dirty looks, hypocritically ignoring their own messy behaviour. The hostility inside made Bowstring cringe, the same uneasy feeling of being in the studio as she began to be noticed. Whilst she did see one or two looking at her excitedly, the majority looked at her with awed, disgusted looks.

Pressing forward on her controls, she was relieved to see nopony else was in the line, giving her a straight shot towards the cashier. As she approached, they looked up from the register, the bored, blank expression morphing into one of confusion. “Can I help you?” The cashier said in a tone which contained the barest minimum of enthusiasm. Bow looked up, studying the menu upon the large overhead screens. Out of the corner of her eye, Bowstring watched the massive cashier staring at her, pushing her red and black mane out of her face with a flick of her chubby fingers. Her nose wrinkled, the cashier's nose ring swaying back and forth as Bowstrings odour drifted towards her. “Anything aside from your weight and smell that is.” She muttered, Bowstring only just catching quiet words, deepening her already rosy cheeks.

“Yeah, could I get four Extra Large belly buster meals and a Deluxe Royal sized milkshake with extra ice cream?”

“Wow… really hitting that diet today, aren’t you?” The mare replied in her deadpan tone, punching the order into the register, her doughy fingers just about able to press the buttons. The slight motion propagated through the mare's large frame, causing the woefully undersized uniform the cashier wore to ride up that little bit higher, exposing her rolls. Covered by a small bulge of flab, Bowstring caught sight of the employees name tag, referring to the mare as Destiny.

“Is that everything, miss?”

“Yeah, that should be good, thanks.”

“That’s a relief, I don’t think we’d be able to fit anymore on the tray.” Destiny pointed out, wincing as she caught another whiff of Bowstring. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. Unfortunately, the overpowering wave wasn’t so easily dispelled, instead creating an edie, blowing the funk over to Destiny’s coworker. Bowstring said nothing, watching on as the employees struggled to put her meal together. Massive packets of fries, enormous burgers, and a veritable bucket of milkshake were placed onto a woefully small tray. During this ordeal of preparation, a queue was forming, more and more patrons taking note of the obese blob of a mare stinking up the joint.

Fishing out her wallet, Bowstring took out her Berry Pie Corporate Card, her belly growling in anticipation as she watched the mountain of food grow, flashing her card across an offered card reader. Putting the last of the grease stained bags onto the tray, Destiny’s half lidded eyes widened as she grabbed the tray. “Where do you want me to… uuuhhh… put this?”

“Just put it on my upper belly fold… huff… please?” Bowstring replied. What followed was an awkward scene of flesh on flesh as Destiny attempted to give her the meal. From her position behind the counter, she could only just reach the shelf of her lower rolls, forcing the cashier to exit and walk to Bowstrings side. To get it onto Bowstring's upper rolls, Destiny was forced to lean against Bowstring. Now standing beside the mountainous mare, the cashier struggled to keep herself from gagging, surrounded by the miasma that was being exuded. Sweat dampened cloth and pressed against her tatty uniform, leaving great splotches of perspiration on her form. “Prrrrrbbbttbbbbb!!! Frrrbbbttpp!!” The smell that billowed about the pair was made all the worse as a deep fart bubbled up, spurred on by the pressure being placed upon Bowstrings belly. The low, rumbling expulsion could be felt through the floor, as the smell of methane and an amalgamation of half-digested food swamped around.

“Celestia’s tits…how do you get this foul?” Destiny moaned, recoiling and she retreated behind the counter. Bowstring didn’t say anything more, maneuvering her machine towards the open seating areas. Due to greater usage of mobility devices, many restaurants would just have tables where one could park at and eat. Though there were only a handful, they were mercifully empty. Steering into a space, she gingerly placed her food down upon the raised table, beginning to work her way through the first Belly Buster, a not insubstantial meal by any means.

Each of these burgers was a mass of greasy fried patties, topped with a substantial amount of special burger sauce that mingled with the onions, cheese and bacon. As she sank her teeth into the unhealthy mass of protein and fat, a great moan left her mouth, as did a spray of excess grease and sauce that spattered onto her neck rolls. Oh, how she’d missed this taste! Though she mostly stuck with sweets, she couldn’t deny how good Berry’s burgers were, near orgasmic in their flavour. She reveled in the taste, her mouth being filled with hundreds of calories at a time, forcing them into her cavernous stomach to process into more blubber.

Aside from her inherent acting talent, the act of consumption was something that came easily to her, eviscerating a carton of fries made from nearly a dozen potatoes. Switching to her milkshake, the ice cream thick mass of gloopy dairy helped to balance the saltiness from the fries, all amalgamating together as a canaclave of eating pleasure that set her pleasure centres ablaze. A wonderful meal, surrounded by dozens of hostile ponies. It was the one thing that was souring the entire experience. Sure, there were some times in Manehatten when she was pestered for autographs whilst eating, but at least there she could bask in the praise. Here, she only felt scorn and bitterness.

“Dear Celestia, how can somepony eat like that? Even my cousin's pigs eat with less mess…”

“Blech… you want the rest of my sandwich? I’ve lost my appetite…”

“I wonder who her tailor is… poor dear must have been forced at horn-point to clothe that whale.”

They stung, each barbed comment tearing at mind over and over. On and on she ploughed, trying to rush the rest of her meal down as fast as possible. Forcing herself to eat faster, she became sloppier, creating an even bigger mess on herself. Stray condiments, fries and sauce liberally spotted her upper torso. Her jowls bobbed and wobbled, her cheeks bulging and shrinking with every mouthful. Using both her hands, she wrestled the last sandwich into her mouth. Her lips wrapped around the last bite, rising and falling as the last of her bumper meal was vanquished. With none of the usual satisfaction it brought.

Rather than being just another pony enjoying her meal, she felt like a mere attraction, like something out of a circus freak show… something to gawk and laugh at upon a stage. Even with the warm meal resting inside, the heat it provided did little to quell the icy feeling blossoming down there, akin to a weed sucking the life from a flower. Releasing a small belch, she began to weave her way towards the entrance, if by some miracle managing to slalom between patrons and tables. Approaching the entrance, the automatic door slid open, beckoning her outside, out from the judgemental whispers, and into the…

‘Whumph!” The cart abruptly stopped. Bow tried again, jabbing at the forward control. To her dismay, all it did was cause the vehicle to make a strained groan and for her body to be oddly shunted around. “Oh perfect… this is all I need…” She grumbled, realising what had happened. Given how her fat was positioned in the scooter, much of it was rather precariously balanced. At some point, some of her fat had slipped off, sagging outwards. Point was that her enormous ass was now wedged in the door frame, which several patrons were beginning to notice. “Nnrrghh… Mmmhhh… come on you stupid thing, move!”

She paused, realising she's only wedged herself more. “Can I get a… push, please?” She asked sheepishly. Several whispers floated her way, a very unsubtle groan audible and plenty of bickering following. After a little more arguing, three staff members made their way over, the cashier amongst them. Hesitantly, they stood behind the looming mounds of ass, undulating and wiggling just inches from their faces.

“So, how are we going to get your fat butt through?”

“Just, try to force my, uuh, rolls through the door. One on either side, and one in the middle pushing.”

“And you want me to put my hands on your body?

“‘Sigh’ yes, if you wouldn’t mind…”

Soon, the three had taken up position, awkwardly handling her body as her sweat slicked flesh slipped through their grasp. “Uughhh, this is so gross. It’s like bucking sweat sponge… how can somepony have more cellulite than ass?” They began to push, the two either side using the natural lubrication to force the folds around, only to restart with an even thick pocket of lard. The frame pinched and squashed her middle, drawing some deep rumbles from within. Behind, Destiny was panting and gasping, the loose tissue offering no solid support as she sank in, fighting to keep herself from slipping into Bow’s ass cleavage. “Boss better make good on that extra pay… can’t believe this pig…”

Before she could say anothing more, the rumbles got louder. A prelude to the sudden rolling eruption of gas. ‘Frrrpppbbtttt!!!’ ‘Brrrpppttpp!!!’ ‘Grrrrmmmbbbrrrbbbb!!!’ A mixture of half digested fast food, sweat, grease, methane and whatever other nasty fumes flooded the room. Patrons gasped, covering their noses as the odour permeated everywhere. Unfortunately, one mare was directly in the firing line, as Destiny collapsed forwards from the noxious vapours. Her screams were muffled as she fell face first into Bow’s ass, her already soiled uniform liberally drenched in her sweat. The sudden introduction of several hundred points lurched Bow forwards, the frame splintering and buckling a second later.

‘Rrrrruummmmrrppptthhh!!!!’ ‘Fffffrrraaappppttttbbb!!!’ Another cannon thud of flatulence rumbled out, the air tinged green by the wave. The very few patrons who weren’t immediately turned off their food had their burgers knocked from their grasps, such was the intensity of her gas. Unsure of what else to say, she said a rather quiet thank you, the cashier extracting herself without a word. Though her farts had been loud, the insults still drowned them out. Gulping, she left the wreckage that the door had become, turning onto the street and back to her suite.

As heavy as her body was, her heart was even moreso, the criticism piling on thick and fast. As sadness washed over her, she wished for this to be all over, and yet she knew there was still so much left to film. She just had to hold on.

Chapter 3

Weeping filled the halls of the penthouse, interrupted briefly by the sounds of ravenous consumption and the occasional rumble of gas. Night had drawn in but a few hours ago, the corridors cast a dull white from the city lights outside and the looming presence of the moon high in the sky. As one was to get closer, the sounds intensified, as did the smell, with the very air itself looking heavy and smoggy. Sprawled out upon a mattress of utter absurd proportion, Bowstring lay. Somehow, she’d managed to lay out on her belly, the mass of blubber it consisted of squashing out around her, creating an additional mattress of herself. Her belly rolls squashed outwards, the weight of body pressing the malleable lumps of adipose out like somepony squishing a blob of blu tac.

Her swollen arms reached out with the very last mobility they could manage, only just allowing her to grab another grease stained bag. Her messy hands fumbled with the packaging, tearing the paper asunder as she retrieved the prize within. Opening her mouth, she felt the swells of face fat wobble about as she opened as wide as she could manage, cramming the oversized burger in as much as possible. She took large, sloppy bites, not caring in the slightest as a mixture of oil, condiments and sauce added to the strange managare of stains spotting her face. Joining the mess, tears trickled down, her eyes red and puffy. Swallowing, she almost choked as she forced in another massive mouthful, reducing the meal to nothing in a matter of moments.

Around her, the bedroom shared more in common with a waste dump than a luxury apartment. Heaps and heaps of trash lay strewn about, in some places a little more than ankle deep. Her mobility scooter sat amongst this pile of detritus, looking very sorry for itself. Down the middle, the robust metal frame had been shorne in two, with only the very thickest of parts of the frame still attached to one another. The air too hung heavy with a cloying mixture of all manner of strange, gut wrenching smells. Every type of fast food mingled together, undercutting the scent of a bonafide slob. Sweat and flatulence mixed together, joining the foody smell to create what was undoubtedly a rank odour that only intensified the longer the immobile blob continued to binge.

Not a scrap of clothing covered any portion of her form, nor had any done so for the past few days, leaving every inch of plush white pegasus exposed to ooze outwards. Her immense, saggy ass was on full display. Laid out on her gut, Bowstrings ass rose up, composed of nothing but hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of loose flab. Under their immense weight, both cheeks spread out, sloshing back and forth with every slight movement. Her cutie marks hadn’t been spared in the slightest; The brown crossbow distorting into nought but a strange brown blob of colour, growing ever more deformed as the pounds added to her overblown frame.

Each cellulite pocked, saggy mass of overnourished blubber was a testament to the mare's gluttony, the immense sizes of the two being the sole reason why her scooter was in such a state of disrepair. Indeed, she had been ballooning, her already insane frame just bloating out more and more lard. Well, gluttony, mixed with a fair amount of comfort eating to be more precise. Against Bowstrings best wishes, the situation at the studio was becoming ever more prevalent by the day. It seemed as though that in between each shot, at least one of the cast or staff would find a way to demean her, to find something to criticise about her. The still present heatwave was definitely a contributing factor, as her dress had to be replaced fairly frequently to keep continuity between shots. Given how much she appeared throughout the film, the amount of work that could be done each day seemed to plummet continually.

And the cast and crew were all eager to point this fact out. Quiet mumbles, open conversations, even loudly telling her it directly to her face. To call the atmosphere ‘toxic’, would have been an understatement. It seemed that regardless of how much effort she put into her role, there was always that niggling little seed of self doubt at the back of her mind. By now, that seed had been fertilised by the bombardment of hate towards her, flourishing into a curtain of strangling vines that leeched from her. Her motivation was but a shallow pit of what it once was, and it was hard to every stay in character or focus on performing.

Even with her time off set, it seemed that she couldn’t escape the ire. Her trips to the restaurant increased, the simple warming feeling and delight they provided seemed like a buoy amongst a turbulent ocean. The cashier continued to make remarks, slightly muffled by the face mask she now wore. She didn’t explain why she had it, but the purpose was clear as day. And so she came back, day after day, as her hunger seemed to spiral out of control. More bags crowded the plastic trays with every order, as did more stains seem to crowd her upper belly and face.

Her body dutifully continued to work at the mass of food she forced into it continually, the sheer mass of calories, fat and sugar her body broke down, sending it away to be turned into more poundage. Her rolls battened, fighting against her clothing continually as the fabric rode up her flab, hugging against each overhang and saggy slab. Processing so much of Berry Pies brand food hadn’t improved her smell or hygiene situation either, the additive ladened recipes brewing up a storm of reeking flatulence. Immersing herself in food, she spent hours working away at each mouthful, grease and sugar pooling in her belly, packing her full to the brim as she forced more and more in.

Unfortunately, such weight gain wasn’t without consequence, specifically for her mobility scooter. With a gut wrenching sound, the metal was shorne down the middle, leaving her stranded in the middle of the fast food joint, leading to an embarrassing situation where she had to be towed out of the building. The damage, she would later find out, was far more extensive that what appeared at first glance. The electronics were on their last legs, practically about to explode from the strain placed upon them. The suspension too was just about to bottom out. With the amount of wear and tear, it would have been far quicker and cheaper to order a new one than repair it.

Her size, however, made that a little problematic. Considering that she was the largest pony alive, she dwarfed any of the locally produced designs by some margin. The only solution was for a new, custom made model to be shipped in from Manehatten. Compared to her previous one, it had more than enough room to accommodate her form, and even a considerable amount of growth beyond that. For the time being, however, she was rendered utterly immobile outside of simple movements.

With one of his stars unable to perform, both physically and mentally, Montage had made the executive decision to postpone filming until issues could be resolved. The reasoning behind it was perfectly understandable, given that each scene she was involved in seemed like pulling teeth in terms of the amount of usable footage that could be used. Montage was fairly diplomatic about the whole affair, but it still struck a chord with Bow, just another thing she’s mucking up and wasting others time with.

So that was where Bowstring found herself now, wallowing in bed as she binged upon a monumental quantity of food, tears running down her face as she forced more and more into her muzzle, not caring about how bits of half eaten food dribbled from between her lips, spattering onto her chins and other outcroppings of flesh. Her pillow sized boobs were becoming a significant food trap, a great collection of food scraps lodged between the milky mounds. “Ffrrppbbbttt!! Brrrrpppbbtt!! Brroommpppttt!” A deep, flesh wobbling torrent of flatulence broke loose, adding to the already heavy, humid atmosphere. With the minuscule amount of extra room she’d made from that, her grubby hands reached out, grasping at a thoroughly decimated cake, adding a fresh layer of sticky icing to the multicoloured collection.

Swallowing heavily, she lay there, attempting to wipe away another tear, only ending up smearing mess across her cheeks. She lay there, panting heavily as she forced in a number of breaths. Between her sniffles and gasps, she became aware of noise, slowly building. Blinking, she pulled her head out a tray of cake, looking towards the door as the noise reached its peak. “Unless you’ve… pant… got food with you… go away!” She shouted, though it came out far quieter than she’d intended.

“What about friends then?” A somewhat sophisticated tone responded, undercut by a very clear level of concern. Bow gasped, dipping her head back down, attempting to hide amongst the food. All the person got in response initially was a rustle of food packaging, followed a short while later by a quiet, muffled voice.

“Please, ‘Ganza, You… you can’t see me like this…” She whimpered, cringing as she heard the electronic whine ramp up, the massive pair of doors slowly pushing outwards by a combination of magic and brute force. Managing to open her eyes, the sea of rubbish was parted by the newcomer, plastic and paper crunching under the heavy duty wheels.

“It’s far too late for that Bow. From the photos I’ve seen in the newspaper, you’ve been suffering like this for a while now.” Looking up, Bow trailed up a swell of belly fat, jiggling about in the confined of the mobility scooter. Further up, she was met with a pair of amber-gold eyes, looking upon the bed bound fatty with deep concern. This was framed by a mane of extraordinary size, styled up into a great shell like curl as big as her head was. The one who’d helped to launch her into the world of plus-sized modelling, the one who arguably helped in part to orchestrate the rising waist lines of Equestria, Her boss, and most importantly friend, Extravaganza.

“I… sniff… I told you not to come in. Seeing what a disgusting mess I am. I’m not cut out for this work… I don’t know how I thought I could act, being a pile of useless lard. Surely, you didn’t come all this way out here just to sit in on my pity party?” The room was near silent, Extravaganza considering her words as her horn lit up, levitating a cloth over. With a few delicate rubs, she cleaned most of the mess from Bow’s face.

“Well, no, I didn’t come out here specifically for you. As luck would have it, there’s a fashion show happening a short while from here. Then I got a call from Berry.” Bow’s face fell again, her ears folding down. “After she got a few messages from that director, she’s been trying to contact you, and lets just say that calling her anxious right now would be putting it mildly.”

“I… I know. I couldn't face telling her… she’d just be so disappointed in me, bucking this up like I have… then actually seeing me here, laying in trash… where I belong.”

“Do you truly believe that? That you’ve become less of a pony over these last few weeks? Because from where I’m sitting, I’m only seeing one mare who’s missing one thing… one thing that I’ve always adored about you, from the day we first met.”

Bow paused, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. “And… that is?”

“Simple. Your attitude.” Bow looked incredulous, opening her mouth to rebuke the point, but Extravaganza cut her off. “One of the things that really grabbed my attention was just how confident you were. Despite how large you were compared to other ponies, you didn’t care at all. You were yourself, ambitiously dedicated to it as well. You didn’t care how big you were, how messy or ‘rude’ you were. You… you didn’t give a shit… pardon my Prench.” She giggled a little, covering her mouth, drawing a thin smile from Bowstring.

“And that’s why you became a star, why so many were willing to follow in your footsteps. That honest, no-nonsense personality is why everypony adores you… and I'm sure you can get it back.”

“How… how do I go about that… I’m pretty sure most of the cast hate my guts.”

“Because you’re giving them fuel, dear. The reactions you gave just reinforced how much their barbed words hurt you. The simple answer is to just, not worry. I know this is a big deal for you, but if you treat this work like your life depends on it, this stress is just going to consume you. If you keep your chin up, and stay positive, nothing will get you down.” She smiled, leaning in a little further. “If some random retail worker gives you attitude, just remember that you’ve already won in life… You’re the one going to be on the big screen, not some deplorable ass working a dead-end job.”

“Ok… I guess I can do that… yeah… I think I could do that.” Bowstring picked herself up slightly, though still looking a little uncertain of herself. She smiled again, feeling Extrvaganza’s magic aura caress her cheek.

“We’ll work this out, as long as it takes my dear. And don’t forget, I’m going to be here for a while. If you need anything, anything at all, please give me a call. I’ll be over as soon as I can.” The two shared a smile, the darkness in Bow’s mind dissipating, like clouds in the sky, letting the warm glow of the sun shine down. For the first time in quite a while, she felt good. Another tear rolled down her cheek, a little bit of laughter bubbling from her lips. As her friend joined in, deep down she hoped that everything would just get better, and if what Extravaganza said was true, maybe this time her hopes would finally come to fruition.

Chapter 4

Midday was just creeping in in San Fransicolt. Light glinted and sparkled off the bay, the cool blue waters softly shimmering. The impressive red bulk of the Golden Stable Bridge sparkles under the powerful glare of the sun overhead, fit to boil most ponies where they stood, or sat in the cast of Bowstring. Whilst these conditions would have reduced her to a sweaty mess, the effect upon her was weakened considerably, aided by her brand-new scooter. Whilst it was obnoxiously branded with stickers relating to Berry Pie, they still didn’t discount the amount of little gadgets and functions packed in. Large vents were emitting constant gusts of chilly air around and under her body, complimented by a wide parasol that shielded the worst of the heat. Of course, both of these were being perfectly supplemented by the onboard milkshake dispenser, a tube pumping a wide range of cool, creamy, and exceptionally fattening shakes right into her belly.

A smile was upon her lips, as she cruised along the pavement, eyes flicking between watching the bay and other ponies, very much enjoying the gradual change she’d been privileged enough to bear witness too. It hadn’t been easy, trying to pick herself up after the mental abuse she’d suffered through, the pangs of those interactions still within her. But unlike before, these were now distant echoes, failing to force their way back in. With Extravaganza there by her side, they’d worked through those problems. Her confidence grew, aided by the gradual transformation working its way through the city.

Glancing to her left, she saw a pair of mares walking side by side, bodies pressed together despite how far their heads were from one another. Both were near enough immobile, each taking clumsy, plodding, shuffling steps, their enormous thighs rubbing together regardless of how wide they were spread. Each had an enormous tub of ice cream cradled in an arm, occasionally taking a scoop out and slurping it up, or very occasionally feeding it to each other. Melted ice cream dribbled down their chins and cheeks, adding to the sticky mess on their ill-fitting clothes and breasts. “Do… puff… do you think we should… uurrrppp… buy some of those new clothes from Extra… phew…vaganza’s line?

“I guess… they did… wheeze… look good. I gotta sit down… my legs are… pant… killing me.” The other replied, finding a bench available on the sidewalk. The term bench, however, was rather generous. The traditional wooden benches had instead been replaced with concrete blocks, moulded into a smooth, ergonomic shape, perfect for cupping the behind of a several hundred pound equine. Their friend soon joined, the pair continuing to gorge themselves, letting loose discordant, bassy farts. Bow looked away, just about managing to avoid crashing into a small wall running beside the path. Adjusting the controls, she looked around more carefully, pausing to let a scooter-bound stallion trundle from a doorway, belching loudly as the machine descended down a few steps, joining a small procession of mobility related devices.

Sights like these were common enough in central and east-coast parts of Equestria, but had only recently begun to happen in San Fransicolt, with Bowstring and Extravaganza both to blame. The pep talks and constant assurance that Bowstring was offered was a great confidence boost, but the influence the flabby fashion designer had pulled was quite astonishing. A massive advertising campaign for a new clothing line had been a big start, local papers and magazines filled with confident mares and stallions, comfortable about their enormous sizes. Alone, this may have turned a few heads, but the real kicker had been Bowstrings emotional shift. Within a few days of returning to set, the usual jeers and sideways comments died out quickly, the pegasi’s almost permanent confidence and energy cutting through the negativity like a scythe through straw.

No reactions at all. Infact, she quite often does the exact opposite, taking the insults as compliments instead and thanking the person. This attitude too bled out into the streets, and many took notice. No longer unsure and aggressive, the positive influence melded perfectly with Extravaganza’s campaign; as was planned. It was genuinely quite shocking how easily ponies could be influenced to think and act, what trends to follow and what media to consume. Of course, the hyper addictive nature of Berry Pie’s food didn’t help matters either, more branches popping up to meet the ballooning demand, just as sofas were being crushed by enormous, trumpeting backsides.

In no time at all, the average weight had shot up dramatically, many going from having reasonable mobility, to shambling, near-immobile crowds of fast food addicted fatties. The sudden rush of excitement and pleasure they felt as they chowed down upon piles upon piles of food mounted, needing more and more to be satisfied, as did their hunger and stomach capacity grew to accommodate. Like thick, doughy batter pooling in a cake tin, so did their desire for more caused the average waistline to spiral upwards in width. Fatter, and fatter all around everypony was turning into great, wobbling butterballs. Even those who’d been so vocal about their distaste for slobbiness had soon found themselves amongst those who’d they’d been insulting just weeks prior.

Destiny was a perfect example of this. Taking a trip to the restaurant the day before, Bow saw just how much the mare had changed. Whether she became immobile or not was difficult to say, her dark blue body was packed tightly behind the counter, the great swaddling rolls forcing themselves onto the countertop. Her uniform, despite being exchanged for a far larger set, was in a poor state, as seams popped and buckled, great welts emerging in the tight fabric, her flesh all eager to ooze through the holes, forcing the fabric to buckle that little bit extra. Her immense ass packed out the rest of the space behind her, the twin tufts of her red and black tail fluttering like flags in a gale as she shamelessly released fart after fart. Courtesy of Berry Pie’s restaurants having free food for employees, a small pile of empty bags and boxes surrounded her work area, much of the detritus spattered across her puffed up complexion, her thick jowls and cheeks sloshing with each word and belch. Though she was still the same sarcastic pony, her attitude has overall improved, not caring about the conditions at all, simply content to gorge on hyper fattening junk food and press a few buttons on the register.

Taking a turn, she cruised along, watching as the Film Studios came into view, looking very much the same as the day she first arrived. Moving up to the gates, she gave the guard stationed in the guardhouse a small grin. The stallion looked up from his enormous burger, condiments and grease trailing up his face, returning with his own smile. Moments later, she was through the gates, approaching the front doors, the automatic mechanism sliding them apart. Despite how wide the gap was, it was only just enough to allow Bow in, her engorged flanks millimeters from grazing the frames. Regardless, she made it in, rumbling onto set.

It had changed much throughout the month or so she’d been filmed, with a great many of the pieces switched out and reorganised for new shots and scenes. All of the damage she’d unintentionally caused was all but fixed, the scars of which were hidden out of sight. Technically, Bow had actually finished all the parts she needed days or even weeks ago. She should have already packed her bags and headed off back home. However, a new issue had arisen, in response to the sudden influx of food; continuity. A key point in any media, be it books, tv shows, games and movies is consistency, which helps to convince anyone watching. Any significant changes had the potential to ruin audience immersion. Be it plot, visuals, or indeed, the characters themselves. As those working on the set found out, Nopony was immune to the seductive pull of food, the actors included.

Everypony, including Freeze Frame. True, the mare before hadn’t been particularly thin. But now she was one amongst the hundreds she’d already seen today, borderline immobile. Sitting upon a reinforced chair, Bowstring could see how her figure had exploded outwards. Much like herself, the icy blue pegasus had developed a bottom heavy figure, her enormous hips and thighs melding together with huge cushions of adipose. Even the mare’s considerable belly and rolls couldn’t conceal them from the front, each oversized cheek swelling outwards. Speaking of belly, it was just about contained by her costume, the great plates of metal, loops of chainmail and strips of fabric helping to conceal the mass of tummy she’d gained.

Even so, it was hard to ignore just how much area they were forced to cover, how much extra material had to be used to remake the costume to fit her new form. Even so, Bowstring could see how much her body was fighting against the hard, confining plates, how her flesh squished and forced its way into any available space possible. Even her helmet had to be altered, her doughy cheeks and jowls the chief culprits. A huge metal fan was close by, one of many employed since the heatwave began, great volumes of cool air breezing across Freeze as she slurped at an enormous bucket of soda, looking up as she noticed Bowstring approaching. She didn’t say anything, pausing in her consumption. Bow could see a great deal of emotions twitching at her features, how her smile fell slightly; not into a scowl, but one of sadness, regret even.

The relationship the two shared had always been quite tense, ever since their initial spat the day they first met one another, souring into resentment along with the rest of the stage crew. However, once Bow had come back from her short break, things changed once again, the attitude she exudes fighting back against the negativity around her. Tensions settled, and outside of scenes on set, Freeze didn’t say a word to her. Bowstring gave a polite nod, spotting Montage off behind a table of props. Pressing forwards, she moved past Freeze and…

“Bowstring?” She stopped abruptly, jolting in her seat. Turning her head the best she could, she followed the voice to its source, watching as Freeze Frame eased herself to her feet, panting and wheezing as she did so. Bowstring was shocked, blinking as Freeze waddled over to her side. “I… I just want to say that I… uurrrppp… I… I’m sorry. Sorry for all this hostility over the last few months, I…” She trailed off, sighing and pulling off her helmet, letting her curtain of hair billow out.

“I told you… pant… that I am a professional, an actor that… huff… will put her all into whatever I’m doing. But… but that extends beyond work. My attitude to the work itself was sound, but the way I treated you was horrid. I talk about professionalism, but there I was, making snide comments behind your back like a child. I guess… I guess I was just venting the frustrations I've been building up for so long. But then, you changed, and, and that changed me too. You were… happy, being as big as you were, and then I noticed how everypony else was becoming just as happy and content with themselves.” She took a moment, letting out another shuddering breath.

“I’ve spent so long just living on the minimum I need, not indulging myself because I believed it was ‘unprofessional’ to do so. I just tried some of the snacks left in the break room… and…”

“And?” Bowstring finally responded, licking the lips of her dry mouth.

Freeze smiled, spreading her arms wide. “And I loved it. It felt so good to indulge, to let go and have some fun… just felt so exciting to me.” Reaching down, she grabbed one of her rolls, squeezing it and moaning. “Nnnrrfff… oh it feels so good! Just to enjoy yourself, just to say ‘buck it’ and eat a cart full of pizza. To not care as you devolve into an eating machine. To not care about the way you look, sound or smell.” She smiled, raising her leg slightly, a fart bubbling up from behind her. Even with distance, Bow could smell the rather sweet, yet pungent aroma, heavy with the cloying mixture of half digested pastries. Freeze, meanwhile, looked content, her lips upturned as she let out a deep sigh.

“It’s all so liberating, and it’s filled a big hole in my life that I could never seem to fill otherwise.” Reaching out a hand, she extended it towards Bow. “For what it’s worth, thank you, Bowstring.” Bow looked at the appendage, easily making her decision in a split second, wrapping her own around it.

“No problem Freeze, no problem.” Shaking, the tension in the air dissipated at once, Freeze Frame looking more relaxed than she had done for months. “And hey, I’m going to hit up Berry Pie’s later today. You want to come with?”

“Buck yeah!” She exclaimed loudly, clamping her hand to her mouth, noticing other ponies looking over to the commotion. Laughing, Freeze dropped her hand, Bow joining in a moment later. Even if the reshoots were going to be more effort, at least she had somepony friendly to work with.

“Buck yeah. Now come on, we’ve got a movie to make.”

Chapter 5

After months of hard work, grueling time spent shooting, reshooting, correcting and editing, the movie was finally finished. A massive effort, everypony working had put their blood, tears and sweat into the production, though sweat was definitely the most prominent of the three. A movie of this scale hadn’t been attempted since the obesity epidemic, the logistics of working with such enormous actors having been an initial turn off to any project getting off the ground, even with Berry Pie pulling some strings here, and putting funding into other parts there. Regardless, everything had come together in the end, even if the project had some hiccups at the very start. The movie was on the very cusp of release, the adverts having drawn plenty of attention to the general public, waiting in anticipation for it to finally hit cinemas.

There was only one more thing to take care of; the premiere. A great many places were considered, from Canterlot to Las Pegasus to San Fransiscolt itself. In the end though, Manehatten had been picked, and not without good reason. Much like how rampant obesity had affected film production, so too had it impacted architecture. A traditional cinema or theatre was utterly incapable of accommodating those of even the lowest of weights nowadays, as even seating was impractical for an increasingly immobile populus.

With the entire cast finally succumbing to their egregious appetites, not a single one amongst them could move under their own power; An entire group of actors, directors, cameraponies and staff, confined to the comfy interior of their mobility devices. From all the locations, the Manehatten cinema was more than capable of holding them, alongside members of the press and any special guests invited. The solution was simple, if not crude. Mirroring Drive-in cinemas, all one had to do was find an empty space and park up.

“...And I thank you dearly, I honour the knight who so bravely saved our realm from the clutches of evil, and restore harmony to the chaos ravaging the land.” Bowstring, or rather, the character Bowstring was portraying spoke in finality, beaming from amongst her collection of face flab. The camera panned back, showing that Bowstring was sitting on an enormous throne. Even as large as it was, her fat was overlapping and overflowing parts of the arm rest, all covered by an absolutely vast red dress, somehow having enough extra fabric to not be entirely skin tight. Standing before her, a near immobile Freeze Frame stoically nodded, holding her helm beneath her colossal bingo wing as she smiled widely. The onscreen audience broke into cheers and applause, as did the cinema audience too, though with considerably greater difficulty, some instead choosing to belch, the force of which disturbing the insane amount of snacks they’d brought to the show. Slowly, the camera faded to black, the credits flashing up on the screen, bringing about a second round of applause.

“So… what did… huff… you girls think?” Bowstring grinned, emptying the last of her ultra-jumbo popcorn bucket into her maw, letting the empty box tumble to the ground, joining the amassment of garbage down there.

“Amazing! I just knew you’d…pant…be an amazing fit for the role! You’re a natural born…uuurrpp…actress, regardless of the medium! What about you, ‘Ganza?” Berry Pie excitedly piped up, struggling to express her glee as she panted and wheezed. It wasn’t difficult to see why. Initially, she’d tried to minimise her exposure to her products, to minimise her weight gain. She was only a pony, however, and she’d eventually succumbed to the near perpetual grip of food. Of course, owning the largest food company in the world… and by extension one of the largest companies in the world presented her with a great many perks. Sometimes, she would spend days at a time gorging herself within her vast Manehatten factory, wallowing in her obesity as she mindlessly consumed millions of calories.

The end result of such rampant gluttony was one of the heaviest ponies alive, just shy of Bowstring in sheer enormity. Her belly was absurd, a testament to her unerring gluttony. Thicker than three mattresses stacked atop one another, each over-inflated roll of adipose grumbled and blorped happily, showing off a cavernous belly button that lay deep with the crevasse they’d formed. Deformed to such an extent, each slab of flesh was liberally pockmarked with creases and cellulite dimples, her body far too large for her anatomy to cope. Her arms were almost helpless, only capable of the most pitiful of movements, struggling to move within the great sleeves of bingo wings. With every feeding session, it seemed as though her limbs gobbled up more of her arms and feet, great pads of blubber swallowing around the engorged appendages, trying to rob her of anything that could identify her as a living creature, as opposed to a light purple expanse of adipose.

A mountain range worth of back rolls complimented immense cushions of lovehandles, so wide that they were sagging back onto her butt. Whilst her ass couldn’t hold a candle to Bowstrings, by no means were they small, each a lump of folded, saggy lard, topped by a matted, greasy blue tail, the majority of which was trapped between in her butt crack. All this enormity was cradled within the confines of a humongous mobility scooter, an immense platform mounted at the front to accommodate the tidal wave of belly meat.

“Oh yes, it was rather interesting, especially with… pant… how everything was managed with everypony’s size. I think you pulled it off with aplomb darling.” Though Bowstring couldn’t turn her head far enough to see, Extravaganza’s encouraging smile wavered for a moment, a low grumble making itself known. “Oh, I tell you what, I’m… wheeze… feeling rather wolfish; these piddly little snacks from the… frrrppbrt… concession stand hardly fill you up at all…” Levitating empty bags and cartons, alongside the remains of a massive box of nachos off her rolls, a small chorus of gurgles and groans came forth from the other two, cutting through the credit’s music.

“I know exactly what you're talking about ‘Ganza. Thank goodness I… phew… booked us some seats.”

“Can you even book at your restaurants? I thought the speedy food with no… gasp… reservations was the whole selling point?” Extravaganza mused, Berry laughing in response, slapping her gut and inadvertently letting a fart slip out.

“Perks of owning the place. Even with the speed of ordering, tables are taken… pant… up pretty quickly. Now let's get moving, I’m starving!” Grasping at the controls, they began to file out in line, a smattering of congratulations and well wishes flitting past Bowstring, managing to wheeze out thanks in return. Trash crunched and buckled underneath their machines, though the immense power and weight of the vehicles could easily cope. They trundled through the quiet lobby, a lone cashier sitting behind the concession counter, waving limply. Her red coat was barely visible, gooey yellow cheese slathering much of her bloated complexion, pressing her face right up close to the dispenser. It was a little amusing, (or a bit exciting in Berry’s case) watching how utterly food obsessed Equestria had become, not caring as their endless consumerism and greed dominated their very lives. In Manehatten alone, there were around 200 '000 ponies, all were ensnared in a hopeless addiction, repercussions seemingly not on any ponies' minds.

Exiting through the automatic doors, the three were greeted with the familiar smell of the city, alongside the green and brown haze that settled around them. Whilst the inhabitants may have submitted themselves to a slobby, unkempt lifestyle, so too had the environment adjusted to meet these changes. The unceasing sound of flatulence echoed amongst the concrete and glass jungle, the constant emission of such gasses literally choking the very air itself and producing a thin, but utterly foul-smelling mist. Formed from a thousand thousand half-digested meals, the cloying odour was powerful enough to strip paint off the walls, having the unintentional side effect of cleaning off any graffiti left there.

At the same time, the area was devoid of any plant life. Trundling along the pavement, one could occasionally spot the odd flowerbed or window box, the flowers within either wilted or dying, choked by the toxic fog. Even so, the city continued to function as it alway had before, adapting to its residents wants and demands. Although Berry Pie’s food was in the greatest demand, that didn’t always mean it was convenient to access, especially with the distances sometimes associated. On every street, there were at least three or four different restaurants, the intoxicating smell of the cuisine wafting through the massive automatic doors, cutting through the flatulent fog. A good majority of them were filled to capacity, using cutlery, magic or hands to stuff themselves. Whatever they could manage, to fulfil the gluttonous beast that had taken over their lives.

Just passing by the eateries was enough to set the three mares guts into a furious series of growls. “Gosh… this gets louder and louder every day, I swear. I need to get something nice and filling…” Berry mused to noone in particular, patting the upper part of her gut and feeling the limited extent of her mobility. It was a feeling she had never grown accustomed to, the pleasure of how utterly encased she was in her blobby form driving her to grow herself bigger and larger. It was because of her hand and desires that the world had morphed into its current state, because she couldn’t be bothered to secure a normal shipment of sugar for the bakery. But that was far back in the skinnier past, one where Bowstring was only a few hundred pounds, rather than being a literal ton and a half of overblown flesh. If she had any regrets about the world she shaped, then they clearly weren’t keeping her up at night.

Fortunately for the baker-turned tycoon, a huge illuminated sign of her name shone through the haze, beaconing them towards the entrance. Whilst Berry had joked about reservations, it wasn’t hard to see why she’d reserved a spot. Every table was occupied, virtually every available space taken up by hundreds of immobile equines, all too busy stuffing their faces to notice how tightly they were pressed up against the ponies either side of them. All around them, a continuous cacophony of gluttony and slobbery incarnate barraged them, a continuous roar of chewing and swallowing, alongside a methane plant's worth of flatulence. And this was just the first floor, the group swerving and weaving their way towards a bank of elevators.

“Ganza, would you mind?” Berry panted, gesturing towards several large buttons on the wall. Using her magic, Extravaganza pressed the ‘four’ button at the top. The doors slid shut, the heavy duty cable taking up the slack. All three winced as the effect of gravity intensified, their breathing labouring just that little bit extra. Thankfully, the ride took only a few moments, the doors splaying wide to reveal the top floor. Compared to the ground floor, the crowding was lessened significantly, to the point at which Bowstring’s mind was drawn back to how restaurants used to be. Rather than every square inch of space being occupied, at most there was two or three to a table. Following Berry, they made their way towards the far corner, where the patrons had really thinned out.

By the corner window, there was an empty table, several signs dissuading others from using it. Cruising over, the three spread out, each taking an edge. Comfortable, Berry tapped a few buttons on her control pad, pausing as a faint dialtone buzzed in her ear. “It’s Berry. Yes, could you please… huff… send up somepony to take our orders? Thanks”. Tapping again, she ended the call. “There we go, that’ll make our lives a bit easier than… ffrrrbbttt… wading through that lot downstairs… not that I would mind being that close to all that blubber mind you… but I feel as though three successful ponies should… pant… have a night away from queuing.”

“Thank you, Berry. After all the campaigning I’ve been doing, I’ve certainly been… gasp… feeling a lot more successful as of late. So much so that I decided to have Cobalt do some… huff… talent scouting for me and bring a few new models into the fold.” Extravaganza smiled, Bowstring perking up.

“Oh, how’s Cobalt been? Not seen her in ages.”

“Doing quite alright for herself, no less savvy, still has a keen eye too. Whilst she was in Canterlot, she managed to find this wonderful mare, a graduate student if you can believe that. The young dear was going to help run her… phew… father’s business, which seemed like such a shame to confine such a confident, attractive young mare to a life like that. I hope you two don’t mind, but I… uuurrppp… invited her here to meet you in person.”

“I mean, if it’s only one pony, it couldn’t hurt, I guess?” Bow mused, Berry nodding in agreement. Looking back towards the crowd, they could see a pony weaving her way through the tables. A unicorn, if the keratinous spike pushing it’s way between the syrup brown mane was any indication, her body shape rather similar in shape to Bow’s own. Filling out an enormous seat, two utterly enormous flanks wobbled about, deformed by the sheer amount of cellulite and folds that turned each into a rough approximation of the moon's landscape, craters and all. What was most apparent about her appearance, however, was her breasts which were quite simply, vast. So large were they, the jiggly, milky mountains matched her belly pound for pound; so much so that the faint sloshing of milk could be heard over the crowd.

“Ah, Honey, there you are. I’d like to introduce you to two very special ponies, Berry Pie, and my very first model, Bowstring.” The younger mare confident grin faded, looking across at the pair ponies which both outweighed her. Fixing upon Bowstring, a flash of realisation crossed her visage, an excited squeal leaving her lips.

“Oh my gosh! Are you… are you really Bowstring.”

“In the flesh.”

“Oh wow! I can’t believe this, I’m actually… wheeze…meeting you and your… talking to me! Your first modelling show was such a massive inspiration for me and my bestie, you looked so… huff… unbelievably sexy on that stage and you inspired me to grow out my own sexy bod too!” She squeed, her excited geek out making Bowstring feel a strange mix of awkwardness and pride.

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself.” she carefully responded, only drawing out an incomprehensible reply of thank yous. “Hey, just chill out a little. We’re just here to eat and… pant… cool off. Besides, I’m sure we’ll be working together on plenty of shoots in the future, you’ll have all the time in the world for this stuff.”

“Of course! It’s just that… this is just so big for me and…”

“...Honey? Dear, we can talk some more later. Care to have a bite to eat?”

“Oh, right! Heck yeah, I’m wasting away here, how else am I supposed… phew… to maintain such a wonderful body?”

“How true…” Berry smiled, a little devious smirk pinching the corner of her mouth. “Out of curiosity, what’s your favorite thing to eat?”

“Milkshakes, ice cream… anything creamy and fattening I just loooove them…” Honey drooled.

“Well, consider this as a token of friendship. How about unlimited dairy refills at any location, that sound good to you?” The only thing she got in response was a needy burble from Honey’s middle, the young mare’s mind filled with the prospect of chugging so much calorific lactate. Bowstring sat back, lounging into her pillowy mass, watching as a blue, short maned stallion in a restaurant uniform came over. She was content, she had wonderful friends, an amazing job, and she was sure she’d get on with this new pony like a house on fire. The only thing she didn’t have was a full belly, which would certainly be fixed in but a few moments time.

“May I take your orders?”