The following is based on a true story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

“Urf, Spits, you really don’t have to keep me company. I can just stay at the hotel by myself.” Soarin’ said. After Soarin’s shower, during which time Spitfire quietly spied on him from the doorway, they had left the training stadium for the Witz Hotel, where the Wonderbolts had been given an entire floor to themselves. At the moment, they were walking past Photo Finish’s design studio, which was still cordoned off by yellow guard tape. Two stallions, rather plump themselves, eyed them warily as they walked past. It seemed not even the guard was immune to the ‘Immense New Style’ as Fashion Horse magazine called it.

“It’s no trouble, Soarin’. I was gonna take the day off anyway, and I figured I should spend some time with my good friend.” She was, after all, his good friend.

“And keep me from eating any more?” He joked.

“Well...” Images of hoof-fed chocolate and whipped cream bikinis danced through Spitfire’s head.

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya. C’mon, we’re almost there.” Soarin’ began to trot faster, which for a pony his size is really more of a fast waddle, his blubbery body jiggling as he went. His supple rear bounced up and down with each step, slapping lightly against his thighs. Blump. Blump.

*pomf*

Aaand there we go, Spitfire now had a wingboner in the middle of a busy street. Several ponies stopped and stared. Blushing deeply, she pressed her wings down as hard as she could and continued after him.

That stallion, she thought, he will be mine.

*Urp*

Soarin’ burped slightly as he sat down. It was easy enough to get back to their suite, although they had to bear the wide-eyed stares of the staff. Good thing the elevator was working for once, or they might still be on the stairs.

“Eh hehe, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spitfire said, sitting next to him on the couch.

Soarin’ took up most of two cushions, laying on his back like he did whenever he had indigestion, his flab looking to Spitfire like a nice soft pillow. No, she thought, I’ve gotta get him interested in me, that’s the only way this is gonna work! She sat on the far end of the third cushion with her legs in tucked under herself.

It’s time, she thought to herself, I have to tell him. Now or never.

“Soarin’, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s... Important, and I need you to listen, okay?”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Soarin’... I’m in love.”

“Well that’s great! Who with? Oh, it’s Surprise, isn’t it? It totally is. Don’t try to deny it!” Soarin’ was giddy with thoughts of the two. If he could be jumping up and down, he would, but as it was he had to settle for wide gestures with his hooves, sending ripples through his body.

“What? No! Soarin’, I’m in love with YOU!” She shouted.

Suddenly, Soarin’ fell silent. His hooves returned to his sides, and the room became uncomfortably quiet.

“Spitfire, I’m sorry, and I’ll always treasure you as a friend, but-”

“But?” She said, looking at him with big teary eyes. He looked away.

“I know...”

“What?”

“I know you’re a transsexual. I know you’re a stallion and you just act like a mare. I’m sorry, but that’s just not something I’m comfortable with.”

Spitfire’s eyes widened at that. Her jaw lowered, moving up and down, but no words came out.

“Spitfire?”

She just stared at him with her massive amber eyes.

“Spits?”

She burst out laughing.

“Bwahahaha! You... You thought... Wahaha! I’m a tranny? Ha! What in the hell made you think that?”

Soarin’ blushed. Apparently making assumptions can deny you years of poon with the one pony he’d ever felt a real connection with.

“B-b-but... The... That is, your... I mean, you had...” He sputtered.

“Ahahaha! Me? A guy? That’s the funniest thing since... Ever! You know that growing up my mom thought I was too masculine, so she sent me to ballet classes? Ahahah!”

To her credit, it only took five minutes for Spitfire to stop laughing. The fat stallion was quite embarrassed, as he well should be for just assuming something like that. He tried to sink his head back into his blubbery body unsuccessfully.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she said, “S... So, Soarin’, does that mean you... Heh heh... Does that mean you do like me?”

Soarin’s face was red, his flabby cheeks resembling tomatoes. “Uh, well, uh, if you, uh, still, y’know, want me?” He stuttered.

Spitfire looked very deeply in his eyes with a dangerous expression. Suddenly, her face lit up with a smile. “Let’s order a pizza.”

“What?” Well that was unexpected.

“I’m broke, you’re paying.” She said as she walked over to the phone.

“Uh, sure?”

“Well okay then, it’s settled!”

She picked up the phone, dialed, and proceeded to order. “Hello, yes, I’d like a... Dozen? Yeah, that sounds about right, a dozen cheese pizzas, yeah, uh, the Witz Hotel, presidential suite. No, I’m not joking, tell you what, call the desk and ask them to connect you to us, then you’ll have your proof, okay? Okay.”

A minute later, the phone rang.

“See? Proof. Now bring us our goddamn pizzas. Yes I’m sure, now hurry it up, chop chop!”

She slammed the phone down and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Jeez, lifestyles of the rich and famous, right here.”

Soarin’ was quite to comfort his potential marefriend, without leaving the sofa of course. “Don’t worry ‘bout it Spits, it ain’t all bad. This one time, I went to this fast food joint in Manehatten, right? And I walked up to this random guy and just buried my muzzle in his fries, and he whacked me on the head, so I look up and he realizes who I am, and his eyes are really wide, and I’m just like, ‘Nopony will ever believe you’ and just walk away.”

“Thanks, Soarin’, it’s things like that that make me love you.”

“You mean it?” He said giddily.

“Does this answer your question?” Spitfire pounced on him, locking their lips together. She grabbed his hoof and brought it up to her rear while forcing her tongue between his surprised lips. He tastes like chocolate, she thought, I love chocolate!

After a minute or so of surprise tongue wrestling, the intercom buzzed.

A deep, shy voice spoke. ”Uh, Miss Spitfire, Mister Soarin’, did either of you order a dozen pizzas?”

“Hells yes we did, send ‘em on up!”

“Should we, uh, charge them to your account? For convenience, I mean, if you wanna pay in your room that’s fine t-” The speaker was interrupted by a boisterous and professional new voice.

“What this BELLBOY was meaning to say is, we’d be delighted to charge them for your convenience at the credit reader.”

Spitifire was right annoyed by now. “Sure, you guys do that. Just bring those damn pizzas up, we’re getting hungry!”

“Right away. Bloody fool bellboy, this is what you get when you hire a damn dirty zebra to do a pony’s job. Go back to Zebrabwe, you damn stripeys!” It seemed this hotel employed bigots.

“Uh, sir, the intercom’s still on.” Pointed out the timid zebra.

With a clack, the connection closed.

“We’re hungry? Spits, I ate more in the last week than I probably ever have in my life!”

Spitfire simply nuzzled him softly. “I know, but are you really gonna let all that good food go to waste?”

Soarin’ couldn’t answer that one, so he just sat there cuddling with his new love.

*knock knock*

“Uh, hello? Pizzas are here.”

Reluctantly, Spitfire got up and opened the door. There stood a grey pegasus mare, her eyes staring off into different directions, wearing a giant mask of former president Richard Nixon. All in all, it was a very confusing sight.

“Wha--” Gasped Spitfire.

“I’m just here for my obligatory cameo and won’t even eat one single crumb of food in this entire story!” She shouting happily. “Except for this one!”

And with that, her jaw expanded comically and she swallowed every single pizza but one. She was a perfectly spherical pony, in defiance of all known science. The sudden weight proved too much for the floor, which opened in a massive gaping hole and she proceeded to fall down it.

“That was.... Odd.” She said, staring down the hole. The bottom was hidden by shadows, which seemed rather strange considering the hotel was only five stories, but she chose not to question it.

From the couch, Soarin’ said, “I felt millions of voices cry out in disappointment and were suddenly silenced.”

“Well, at least we’ve got the one.” She said, rolling her eyes and trotting back to Soarin’ on the couch.

She tossed the box onto the coffee table, which went unmentioned until now because it’s a magic appearing coffee table, and opened it up.

There was one slice.

“Wow, what a gyp!” Said Soarin’.

“So,” Spitfire said, “Pre-meal blowjob?”

“Uh, what?” Soarin’ was by now completely lost.

“I’ll suck your dick while you eat.” She deadpanned.

Soarin’ recoiled a little, then leaned in closer. “Sure thing, babe. Just lemme get this-urk-damn underwear-grf-off-oof!” He fell back onto the arm of the couch as his undergarments came off. Spitfire was sure they’d make a good blanket, or maybe a parachute.

Soarin’ tossed his underwear into the corner, which is a very strange name for what is clearly outerwear, but that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it.

“Why do we wear these things, anyway? I mean, what’s the point of covering up our crotches when we’re already covered in fur?”

“Because kids are watching, now fuck me you fat bastard.”

In an alternate dimension, a monkey decided to butt in on your porn and remind you of the fat guy in Austin Powers. We now return to your regularly scheduled wanking.

Spitfire took a slice and looked at Soarin’ with a shadowy expression.

“Uh, Spits? What are you-- Mffff!” He was cut off when she shoved the entire piece into his mouth. He couldn’t spit it out, she was holding her hoof over his mouth. He forced himself to chew the cheesy choker while Spitfire looked down between his legs with a hungry expression.

“You chomp on that, I’ve got my own meal.” She said, removing her hoof from his full mouth. She lowered her head down and-

“Mh!”

Wrapped her mouth around Soarin’s stiffening schlong, she worked her tongue around the bottom as he involuntarily bucked his hips.

Soarin’ moaned in pleasure as he chewed the pizza slice , Spitfire sucking his cock. That was also quite pleasurable, but let’s focus on the tasty tasty pizza. It’s what he was focused on, after all. With a gulp, he swallowed the ground-up mass, hoping it wouldn’t choke him. It didn’t, and came to rest in his stomach.

Grrrr...

What was that?

Grrrrrr!

Uh oh, thought Soarin’, looks like it’s time for the obligatory gas. I wonder what it’ll be?

He wasn’t sure how or why it was obligatory, but he was quite sure it was what his body wanted him to do, and therefore what he did.

*UUUrrrruuupp!*

He burped loudly, just at the same moment as he came in Spitfire’s mouth. At first she swallowed, drinking down his hot seed with no problem, but she quickly discovered that Soarin’ was more of a stallion than she had ever suspected. She tried to pull away, but he had put a hoof to the back of her head and was pushing down hard, moaning in joy at the continued release.

The cum was forcing its way down her throat now, entirely too much, certainly more than one would expect from the size of his balls. Her stomach was uncomfortably full now; she could feel the pressure inside of her. It was growing slightly, she could feel that as the torrent poured down her throat.

Finally, he seemed to run out, and Spitfire relaxed. It’s over, she thought, he’s done. Of course, the universe is a strange and inexplicable place, and when God is in a pervy mood, exponentially more so. He let off a small *frrt* when he started to come again.

“Oh, what the hell?” He shouted, staring at his still-going member. Spitfire was full, very full, she could feel her stomach stretching out to accommodate more of Soarin’s jizz. It must be the size of a damn watermelon by now! She thought.

Her crotch seemed a lot tighter, wait, her breasts! Yes, her mammaries were indeed growing, going from small and almost unnoticeable to at least a B cup. Perky and fiiiine.

Soarin’ stared at his growing girlfriend. Her belly was getting bigger, stretching out at the sides, really much fuller than it should’ve been, and there seemed to be lumps growing near her bottom that he was sure he hadn’t seen before, but any worry he might’ve had was washed away with the sheer ecstasy of it all.

Spitfire moaned, she could feel the cum sloshing inside her, it was entirely too much, and Soarin’ just wasn’t letting her go! She struggled, trying to get free, but he held her tight. I feel like a damn party balloon!

It was getting bigger, a medicine ball, at least. She continued to gulped down the sperm, hoping against hope that any second now he might stop. Her belly was very tight, the pressure, oh the pressure! And her boobs, they felt so tight, she could feel milk drizzle out of the by-now quite large nipples. She was, by now, thoroughly regretting the decision to suck him off.

“Gfff!” She tried to shout as she felt an electric shock jolt through her body. Her belly had reached the floor!

I’m gonna pop! I’m gonna burst like a big balloon! Oh sweet Celestia I don’t wanna explode!

Her hooves lifted off slightly, she could only touch the floor with her tippy-toes now. Oh god oh god oh god she thought as she gobbled down Soarin’s baby batter. And then it happened.

The torrent stopped. It tapered off, but she could feel her mouth draining, Soarin’s grip loosening, and his cock softening. Her eyes rolled up; she couldn’t believe it was finally over! She shuffled her hooves around her bulging, bloated belly, it was perfectly spherical and round and a whole lot of other adjectives.

She rolled onto her rear, which is to say onto her overinflated milkbags, which squirted as she put pressure on them. This was the last straw, she came hard, squirting her juices across the floor and onto the wall behind her. She tried to move back onto her belly, but had to settle on the floor, where Soarin’s fat form was also lying facing her. His flabby cheek was smooshed into the floor, and she was sure he seemed slightly bigger than before, although it was probably just her imagination. Forget earlier, this was the sexiest she’d ever seen him.

He opened one eye. “Ooh, Shpitsh, we should’ve done thish shooner.” He mumbled, his contact with the floor impairing his speech.

Yeah, and I shoulda killed that griffon in Baltimare that one time, she thought, this could be the worst thing that’s ever happened, we’re both gonna be fired, and it’s largely my fault! I’m a huge cum balloon, you’re a fatass, and we just spent several hundred bits on overpriced pizza that we didn’t even get to eat!

“Ooooh,” Was all Spitfire could say as her belly gurgled uncomfortably.
*frrrpptph* Was all her ass could say.

Author's Note

Yep, it's here, the disappointment of a lifetime. But then again, life really is just one big fat letdown, isn't it? You live, you die; you meet the perfect guy, he's smart and funny and god damn looks at that ass, but he joins some hippie environmentalist thing and leaves you all alone and then you eat too much and now your body is goddamn spectacular but there aren't any chubby chasers at the club and you drink alone and then write stories about fat horses in the wee hours of the morning and your only validation is from the happy comments of ~~thousands~~ ~~hundreds~~ ~~dozens~~ tens of clop readers on FiMFiction.

In other news, still taking suggestions! Preferably obscure pairings, I want a challenge!
Hey, I know! Let's spread this like wildfire and try for the popular box, yeah?
And to whoever added this to M/M: There was no way I was gonna remember that one, thanks.