Fluttershy was never going to say that she didn’t like Hearth’s Warming. The spirit of the holiday was one that spoke to her deeply. It was in her nature to be kind to others, so of course she continued to act in much the same way that she did every other day of the year.

The celebratory get-togethers were another matter entirely, though. The pegasus certainly enjoyed being in the presence of those closest to her, but she simply didn’t have the social energy to keep up with those events. It was never a surprise when she was the first one to retire for the night, to be exhausted, not necessarily because she was tired, but certainly no longer able to keep up with the flow of the party.

So before long she would find herself back home, shutting the door and blocking out the cold and the snow. “Brr,” she murmured to herself, audibly shivering, keeping her bulky winter clothes on and clutching her arms around herself. She shook herself and a layer of snow and frost came off of her, clinging to her wings and mane and tail. Sometimes, she had to wonder if Rainbow Dash was purposefully trying to outdo herself on the winter every year. At the moment, though, there was only one thought racing through her head, repeating on loop over and over again. “Gotta get warm, gotta get warm, gotta get warm…”

The first step was to get a fire going in the fireplace—a rare circumstance in which Fluttershy would deign to handle such a dangerous implement, daintily holding a match away from herself after she had lit it and then tossing it toward the wood. That wasn’t enough, though, and she certainly wasn’t going to forgo her bastion of warm clothes until the heat had sufficiently filled the cottage. In the meantime, while the logs began to crackle and pop, she wandered into the kitchen and started another fire with the stove, setting up a pot to boil. There was already a smile on her face as she gathered the materials to make hot cocoa; it was going to help warm her up, but it was also simply going to be delicious.

And it was in the midst of these preparations that a realization occurred to her: there was a package resting upon the counter. A little box, wrapped in holiday colors, red and white and green, right next to the shakers full of powdered sugar and cinnamon. She found herself puzzled that she hadn’t taken notice of it sooner and simultaneously understanding that it made perfect sense not to observe the presence of something so slight. She was certainly well-accustomed to going unnoticed herself.

The cooking process and the hunger to get warmer occupied the vast part of Fluttershy’s thoughts, but she couldn’t stop herself from fussing with the box. She picked it up intermittently between handling ingredients—it was about the perfect size to fit within her hand. While waiting for the chocolate to melt in the pot, she checked the tag which was taped to the parcel, but all that was written on it was “For Fluttershy.” She pondered who could have left it for her while she stirred the soupy mixture. Discord seemed like the only reasonable possibility, but she was also certain that he would have been more overt about anything he gave to her.

It was fortunate that the cocoa didn’t take long to finish cooking, as the pegasus couldn’t have withheld her curiosity any longer. She tore at the wrapping paper ravenously, revealing the container inside, plain and unassuming, and when she opened that she discovered something…unusual. It lay in the center of the box, a spiral shape coiled around itself, dark and thin and long. She picked it up in one hand and let it unfurl, a leathery length that terminated on one end with a clasp shaped like a butterfly—designed similarly to those making up her cutie mark. It looked akin to a belt, but it was far too small for even the skinniest of ponies to wear, surely.

And then Fluttershy laughed softly to herself. “Oh, I get it.” She promptly wrapped the choker around her neck and fastened it in place. She couldn’t see it anymore, but she could clearly feel it, resting gently against her throat, a hint of the metal points of the butterfly clasp prodding into flesh. It tickled her, not in a purely physical way, amusing her with the thrill of exoticism. She wasn’t exactly a pony known for making ”statements” with her outward appearance, unlike some of her showier friends. She didn’t know exactly what wearing a choker would say about her, hugging tightly around her neck, but she thought it was just the right mix of distinctive and innocuous for her.

It was growing mercifully warmer in the cottage, enough that she felt comfortable shedding her jacket, leaving only the sweater that had been underneath. She had a little more pep in her step, striding confidently—she might have allowed herself to be still more energetic if she weren’t balancing a mug of hot chocolate in one hand—as she walked back through the halls to settle in the living room, reclining upon the couch. The toasty warmth of the atmosphere was already beginning to suffuse her, but she felt it in earnest when she took a sip from the cup, the sweet molten nectar lapping over her tongue and coating the inside of her throat. A contented sigh escaped her as she settled in, listening to the ambient noises both inside and outside the building, and the heat built within her.

Oh, it was so hot already. She was sweltering. It was like a summer day all of a sudden.

Fluttershy sat down the mug just for a moment so she could pull her sweater up over her head and fling it away. Being freed of the cloying garment’s grasp immediately diminished the pressure which she felt upon herself. It also let her frame be more readily on display, bosom pushing against the fabric of her blouse. The lower hem of the wrinkled shirt was riding up over her stomach. Then she took another swig from the mug, and as the heat swelled within so too did her midsection, bulging outward like a balloon filling with hot air—quite possibly exactly that, even. Her burgeoning gut filled her lap, spilling beyond its bounds, a dollop of butter-yellow flesh, continuing to rise with the building heat even after she stopped drinking.

“Ooh…wow…” She looked down into the cup, still swirling with molten brown fluid. Her swollen torso, which resembled that of a mare in her third trimester, filled the background. She chuckled to herself. “It’s so tasty…and so warm…!”

This time she stood so that she could not only remove her top but also her pants, putting them aside haphazardly. Even wearing naught but her pink undergarments, the cold didn’t even remotely register to her at this point. Her belly hung heavily in front of her, rolling over her waistline, sides bulging and convex, surfaces smooth and taut. She took another long draught of the hot chocolate, the heat burning in her mouth before she swallowed, yet that only served to make it all the more enjoyable. Her midsection swelled yet further, the rate of its expansion increasing dramatically, spreading noticeably with every passing second.

Fluttershy cooed gently as she caressed her stomach, relishing in the intense warmth which she felt within it, seeping out at her touch as if wringing water from a sponge. The way the skin squished and compressed didn’t raise a question in her mind even for a moment. All she needed to know was that touching herself like this made her feel warmer.

So she squeezed harder, pushing in against her gut with both hands. Despite the haze over her mind, she did notice when the warmth shifted, forced inward and outward. Her chest bulged, straining at the cups and straps of her bra, and her thighs and buttocks swelled as well, momentarily giving her a wedgie as her underwear stretched. A gasp of surprise escaped her, heart fluttering. She felt a strong pressure within her neck, the heat attempting to rise, but it couldn’t escape.

The pegasus laughed again, overtaken by the sensations of heat seeping through her, warping her. She let go, and the hot air settled within her middle once more, wobbling faintly in time with her laughter. She wasn’t entirely conscious of herself anymore, acting entirely on impulse, driven by the heat which filled her. Again she squeezed on her belly, this time starting from the bottom and working her way up, forcing the air upward. As her midsection shrank, her chest bloomed, bosom expanding to make up for the difference in bulk. Her bra strained and then finally snapped apart, leaving her breasts to flop about freely, buoyantly, up until the moment that she had finished flattening out her stomach and began squeezing against them next. She kept giggling, unable to resist the sensations which had overtaken her, failing to consider what she was doing as she continued to squeeze upward. That tension rose in her throat once more, the surge of hot air held fast, unable to get past the tight choker. Still, she kept squeezing, kept pushing, the warmth growing ever more intense.

And then, with one final press, she managed to pull in her breasts all at once, past the choker.

If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to say what else she had expected to happen.

Fluttershy’s perception of the world around her suddenly became muddled. There was a rush of air in her ears, and then everything sounded muffled, as if underwater. Her balance shifted, turned unsteady, as all at once there was a whole lot more mass atop her shoulders, yet its weight was negligible. Her perspective had changed, as she saw that the ceiling was closer to her, but she had difficulty looking down or in front of herself, field of view obstructed by bulbous slopes extending to the sides, with a pinkish wall in the front. That was all in addition to the swooping curtain of her mane which hung over the side of her face as always.

“What?” she asked aloud, although the sound came out more like “Mbfwhapht?” The pink mounds wobbled at the same time. She reached up to herself and felt the contour of her cheeks, squishing inward at her touch. They extended too far and too round for her to reach the upper portion of her skull. She traced around the front to her muzzle and the swollen balloons which could only be her lips, pert and bulbous, mashing together.

A low groan escaped her as she caressed her overinflated head. She pressed on her cheeks, but there was no effect this time, the warmth remaining in place. It might have been because of her sapping strength, or it could have been because, as she would have been aware in more lucid circumstances, heat naturally rose higher, meaning it was more predisposed to remain at her peak. Her brain felt like it was swaddled in blanket upon blanket—warm and comfortable, but also dulled, lethargic. Her head was so full and warm, and it was both confusing and delightful.

But she felt that the cold was seeping in once more. All of the heat had gone to her head, leaving nothing for her body. That just wouldn’t do. She picked up the mug again—blindly reaching for it, as she couldn’t see the end table she’d set it on—and extended her arm far out so she could mash it between her bloated lips for another sip. All that only to come to the discovery that it was empty.

“Oh no,” she mumbled blearily, glum and defeated, nearly appearing to deflate just for a moment before perking up in a way that would make Pinkie Pie proud. “Good thing there’s more in the kitchen!”

Fluttershy continued to laugh blearily through her haze of glee as she walked, unsteady, shaking like a bobblehead toy. She would have about a dozen paces to work out the best way to manage her gait before she had to then squeeze her cranium through the doorway to the kitchen.

Author's Note

There was some consternation about this one; the trigger in the prompt was supposed to be a choker, but I didn't want to do it too similarly to the previous story, and in the process it kind of slipped away from the choker and more toward the hot chocolate. Oh well.

This is the text equivalent of channeling Ian McKellen bellowing "YOOOOOU SHALL NOOOOOT PAAAAAASS!" at the normies.

We're done with the Discord mentions now.

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