“Buuurrrrpppp!!! Ooof, that hit the spot…” Already, 4 weeks of the holidays had come and gone for Cirrus. 4 long weeks of doing very little aside from eating, walking to Blossom's house to eat more and growing larger because of eating said food. A quantity which always increased day by day, his gut needing that little more to be filled, satisfied to work away at the mountain of junk stuffed into his blubbery tummy.
Sprawled across his sofa, he was surrounded by piles of trash. All of them food or drink packaging, picked clean. He cared little about them, focused on the still half full bag of corn chips. The TV was blaring some cartoon or other, Cirrus half focused on the antics of the characters, whilst he busied himself guzzling down the last dregs from a litre cola bottle. Feeling the last drops slip down his throat, he let it drop to the floor, joining a battered cookie box he’d decimated minutes earlier.
“Uuurrpp!” He belched, giving his blubber ringed gut a pat. The simple collision caused it to jostle and wobble about, betraying just how empty it still was. To further compound this, a needy growl erupted moments later, stuffing more cheesy chips past his lips. “Yeah, I don’t think this’ll cut it. I need something a bit more filling. I hope Blossom’s around…” He sighed, stuffing the last of the chips into his mouth, licking the orange dust from his fingers.
Glancing down, he found food detritus had accumulated upon his expansive stomach. Chocolate stains, more cheesy flavouring and spots of cola dotted across the pillowy mass. A pillowy mass that was dominating his figure. It seemed a majority of his gains were focused here, creating a mound of doughy lard that filled much of his lap. So large that he could hardly see past, only catching slight glimpses of his titanic tushie.
Like somepony had strapped a pair of jumbo sized water balloons to his rear, each orb of buttery flab jiggled and wobbled from the slightest suggestion. So large in fact, that even his largest pair of undies could only just contain the sheer quantity of lard. A pair of blue boxers he’d bought when Blossomforth had blimped him up last year, they were utterly insufficient to contain all his leg and thigh fat. Many rips and tears snaked through the fabric, the most prominent being one across the middle, much to his embarrassment.
And they weren’t even the worst pair. He blushed as he remembered the other articles of clothing he owned. Well, owned was more accurate. The vast majority was in the trash, so badly destroyed and worn by the ever-expanding quantity of obese colt. Every day, his wardrobe would shrink smaller as he grew larger. “Well, it would be pretty embarrassing if I went around dressed like this.”
Turning the TV off with a dull click of the remote, he maneuvered himself to stand. Shuffling across the cushions, using them to grip, he planted his chubby feet squarely upon the ground. Panting slightly, he braced himself, pushing as hard as he could off the ground. Using his apron-like gut as a weight, he eased himself up. Resting his hands upon his hips, he gasped, the simple motion of even standing putting an immense strain upon his legs and core.
Waddling forth, he could feel every booming step resonate through him, the shock wave causing those hundreds of excess pounds to bounce about. His moobs were reaching sizes full grown mares would be jealous of, easily able to overflow his flabby hands. They would readily slap into the slab of upper belly fat, the motion carrying through into his doughy back. The larger his belly grew, so too did his clumps of back and side fat, each fold progressively expanding the lower down they went, the largest resting comfortably upon his shelf like ass.
Bingo wings encircled his upper arms, comparable to hams for their size. They were so large; they forced his arms outwards, squishing into his moobs whenever he tried to grasp anything in front of himself. Dangling below were his forearms, tube like as fat found more places to squeeze into, the blubber close to his elbows pressing outwards as the excess poundage squashed into them.
Below his rounded complexion, pendulum like chins swung back and forth with every tiny motion he made. On the verge of forming a new follower, they merged with his blobby jowls, which melded with his rounded cheeks. Each cheek was as round as a tennis ball, and much like his chin, was in perpetual motion. All together, it formed an exceptionally obese colt weighing over 325 lbs, struggling to support so much weight on his youthful body.
Trundling forwards, he forced one bloated leg in front of the other, wincing slightly from the sheer amount of flesh that rubbed or collided together, making movement even more laborious. Rounding the corner, he came face to face with what was rapidly becoming his mortal enemy. If the simple act of walking forwards was like competing in a race, then climbing his house's flight of stairs was like ascending a hill. An exasperated groan left his lips, grabbing the banister like he was seizing a lifebuoy.
Planting his foot forth, he winced as almost all his weight was planted forwards. Grunting, he pushed as hard as he dared, forcing himself up one step. “Hah… huff… just 20 to go.” He complained, mentally gearing himself for the next hurdle. Unlike with walking, where he could just lift his feet up a few inches at a time, it required him to make exaggerated bends of his fat swallowed knees. This was in combination with his bulky thighs having his heft blanket of belly flab to further compete with.
Anypony his age would have made it up and down the stairs multiple times. Instead, he was only a third of the way up, literally minutes spent upon the creaking, groaning floorboards. Sweat matted much of his form, with a considerable amount dotting his forehead, wiping futility with the back of his hand. Besides the uncomfortable stickiness, his exaggerated movements were proving problematic for his boxers. Every few steps he was forced to pull them back up, the exaggerated wobbling and jostling causing the fabric to slip down the globular domes and thickened thighs.
Taking frequent breaks, he couldn’t help but look at the photos on the wall. Photos of himself, all looking pretty skinny. Well, skinny in comparison at least. Back then, he could still stretch a pair of sweatpants around his blubbery rump. A privilege he no longer could indulge in.
With one last bellowing grunt, he reached the upstairs landing. Five minutes of battling with the laws of physics that hounded his obese physique. Even though he’d only eaten minutes prior, the ‘extreme’ exercise had drained much of his energy. Leaning on the wall, he could hear burbling, demanding groans of hunger resonate all around. And through all this, he could feel his pampered body ache, lactic acid burning in his legs just as much as his lungs burned with each heavy gasp. “Wheeze… That gets… puff… harder every… day. I need to… cool off… gasp…”
Noticing the bathroom door was open ajar, he perked up slightly, hauling himself through the gap. Remembering to turn sideways, he squeezed himself in, padding onto the cool tiled floor. Waddling into the cubical, he grasped the tap, adjusting to a mild temperature. Sliding the glass door shut, Cirrus huffed as the first spots of water dribbled across his form, grasping onto a small bracket firmly screwed into the tiles.
His ballooning last year had certainly facilitated a number of changes around the house. One of those being the fact that simply standing in place was a killer on his legs. A seat had been added to remedy this problem. Sitting upon the tough plastic, he felt his butt cheeks ooze and smoosh out, the edges of his ass overhanging and sagging down. The tiniest forces of gravity tugged at the drooping blubber. “Geeze, my ass is so fat…” He mumbled, the water finally reaching the correct temperature.
Picking up a flannel, a liberal quantity of shower gel was deposited into the middle. Lathering it up slightly with his fingers, he set about the long task of cleaning each and every fold. A tough job to be sure, but one he came to enjoy more and more. Scrubbing around each inch of his obese body, he marveled at the soft, velvetyness of his skin. How each roll wobbled from every swipe and swab, sending sudsy flab smacking and squishing into slabs of adipose. A great network of streams trickled down his form. Like some great rounded mountain range, water flowed through the crevasses and valley’s made between his rolls. Mirroring his cascade of chins, a small waterfall of runoff poured from the saggy slab of face fat, spattering onto his moobs and upper belly roll.
WIth such a large quantity of flab squashed into the wall, he could feel how his soft malleable blubber interacted with the hard surface. His flesh would slide and mash together in such a visceral display, his back fat and ass cheeks spreading and squashing against the tiles behind him, the loose flesh easily flattened out. It was peculiar, but not in a bad way. Snatching up a bottle of shampoo, he set about cleaning his mane, which thankfully was a much easier task to accomplish. A few minutes more, Cirrus hauled himself to his feet, shutting the water off with a clunk.
Emerging, he made a beeline for the sink, a large mirror was set into a cabinet which hung above. Opening the door, he spied his prize, a large comb, sitting on the top shelf. Rather conveniently, it was just out of reach, the obese colt panting and puffing, his immense gut squashing into the porcelain. Thinking, he lifted his belly up, grunting as he muscled it forwards, practically filling up the sink with the abundance of adipose.
“My gut is so big too, everything about me is so big…” He half whispered the end, wincing as he pulled a knot out of his hair. Every brush stroke he took, another wave of motion was sent through his mountain of doughy flesh. Pulling his gut out, he got a full look of himself in the mirror. Every roll, crevasse, clump and slab of excess bulk blobbed forth and pressed together. It made him feel amazing. As weird as it felt, he was enjoying this feeling of becoming a fat ass.
“Cirrus, if you keep stuffing more and more junk food into that gut, you're just going to get even fatter.” He quietly spoke to his reflection, craning his neck around, inspecting his bubbly ass and trunk like thighs. A loud slap rang out, clapping a hand to his butt. It wobbled and jiggled like jelly, the motion causing his moobs and gut to bounce around much the same. “The fatter you get, the hungrier you keep getting. You keep this up, and you’ll be twice as big and fat by the end of summer…”
He blushed, imagining himself even larger. His body stuck in every door, his ass overflowing the sofa, and his gut bellowing for more food, to which he eagerly stuffed down more and more. A belly so large, a pony could use it as a beanbag chair, so utterly immense that he could eat all day and not get bored. He smiled, feeling giddy as he continued to inspect and wobble his form, revelling in the sensations.
However, the water still generously coating his body had gradually cooled, leaving him feeling rather chilly. Giving his rump one last squeeze, he attempted to wrap a large bath towel around himself. The soft, fluffy fabric only made it around halfway to his podgy middle, the dimensions preventing him from getting the two ends to connect. For what felt like the upteenth time today, he let out an exasperated huff, pulling open the door of the airing cupboard and fishing out a second towel. Together, the pair comfortably wrapped around his form, as he began the tedious process of drying every pocket of pudge.
10 minutes later, he reemerged, squeaky clean and bone dry, ready to face the next challenge of the day, finding something that fit. Plodding into the bedroom, he pulled open his dresser, rummaging through each drawer for attire. As he pulled article after article out, his heart sank. “Wha… I can’t have nothing to wear? Right?” Dragging out more and more, he was becoming increasingly aware his clothes fit into one of two categories. The first, the ones from when he was thin, as in genuinely thin. Anything he hadn’t even bothered to try to climb into. The second were the ones which were utterly ruined. Every shirt, pair of shorts and underwear had their buttons burst, seams torn, or covered in several gouging tears.
Poking his fingers through more holes than he dared to count, he sighed, tentatively checking each article. Exchanging his underwear, the other pair was even more torn up, the damage allowing him to slip them on. Same for his shorts, grunting with frustration as inch by inch, the waistband managed to squeeze around the unbelievably large curvature of his butt. Compressed so tight, he hadn’t a hope of buttoning them up, using the apex of his belly to cover it. His T-shirt was laughably pathetic. The sleeves tore completely as he forced the mounds of arm flab through, creating a vest, which soon looked like a bra. So large was his midsection, his shirt rolled up his upper belly folds, the fabric bunching under his moobs.
Looking in the bedroom mirror further confirmed how pathetic his wardrobe was. Only marginally better concealed than before, his overabundance of adipose ballooned forth. “There’s no way I can go to Blossoms looking like this. I guess I could wait ‘till tomorrow… I need to get some new clothes.” He groaned. “I guess this was always going to happen.”
Grabbing his school backpack, he began to pack for a day trip, his wallet quickly stuffed in the top, alongside a set of keys. Hefting it onto his back, a gurgling grumble roared from his middle, reminding him already of his delayed visit to Blossom. Reluctantly pushing a soda bottle in, he just prayed the trip wouldn’t take too long.
Unfortunately for Cirrus, he’d rather misjudged his long distance walking abilities. True, it was only flat ground, but the sheer distance wore on his energy rapidly. It was rather fortunate that a multitude of benches lined Ponyville's streets, and even luckier they were reinforced well enough to take his poundage. And every time he sat down, he ate and drank from the limited quantity of snacks he’d secured.
Still, he’d eventually crossed through the sliding doors to Ponyville mall, making a painfully slow beeline for the Wide and Tall shop. However, because of its lower popularity compared to most of the trendy shops, it had been crammed at the far end of the building. And that meant more walking for Cirrus.
Walking was also met with a myriad of stares. Oddly enough, a pony as obese as him wasn’t a common sight in Ponyville, colts even less so. All around, he could feel their gazes, watching him with looks of shock. His jiggling cheeks tinged red, embarrassment flushing into them, trying to distract himself by guzzling down more soda.
“Celestia above, how on earth did a pony get that overweight?” A mare gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth.
“Now that’s what happens if you eat nothing but junk food all day.” A mother pointed out to her children disapprovingly.
“Hey! Who let a baby whale into the mall?” A stallion laughed, his friends guffawing along with him.
His blushing intensified, slurping louder to try to blot out their remarks with bubbly, sugary soda. So distracted, he stumbled upon his destination. His bottle bone dry, he popped it into a bin, waddling through the automatic doors. It’d been a while since he’d entered through those doors, the last time being several long months ago, and the place was no less empty now than it’d been back then.
Despite it being the holidays, Cirrus could only see one pony. A stallion, wide in a muscled sense, browsing through racks of shirts.
“Ah, hello there!” A voice called from his right. Spinning (or rather staggering) around, a mare stood. A tape measure around her neck, she leaned on a small cart, laden with a number of boxes. “Can I help you with anything young sir?”
Cirrus was taken a little aback. Given the number of ponies pointing and judging his flabby form, it was shocking to see somepony ignore all that. “Uuuh, yeah. I err, need to get to upgrade my wardrobe.” He stuttered, rubbing his arm slightly. “Something that fits how ‘big’ I am.”
“Say no more. Do you know the size you're looking for?”
Cirrus paused before shaking his head. “Don’t worry. If you’ll step over here, I’ll take some measurements, OK?”
“Sure, I just hope you have something that fits a baby whale…” Mumbling the last part, she guided him over to a small podium. Clambering onto it, he spent the next couple of minutes meticulously scrutinized. He blushed, feeling the tape measure wrap around every contour, bulge and roll he possessed, squeezing into the soft blubber. Taking notes of his size, the seamstress hummed to herself, considering the notes. Finally, she finished, prompting him to step down.
“So, I’d say you're looking for a size XXL at the least. Same for your underwear and pants too, unless you’re planning to tuck your stomach into them, in which case you’d want to go for the XXXL.”
“I… err... what?” He stuttered, causing her to grin in response.
“Common thing some ponies do to help keep themselves from wobbling around… at the front at least. You think you’re the biggest pony to come through those doors? Sure, you're younger than most, but I’ve seen every body type here, isn’t that right Bench Press?” She called to the stallion Cirrus had seen before, who gave a grin and thumbs up.
“Now, since today’s been pretty quiet, lets see if we can find anything you like, OK?” Cirrus slowly nodded, sending his chins bouncing. “Great! Now, let's have a look at the colts section, shall we?”
Half an hour later, Cirrus emerged, two full bags of clothes in his hands. He’d elected to not wear them now, his sweaty body would have only soaked them. It hadn’t been an easy fitting, with one pair of shorts meeting an untimely demise after they had burst open like an overfilled balloon. Still though, the clerk had at least been nice to him, even though he’d spend ages agonising over sizes, colours and designs.
And those ages had worn on his appetite. Rolling, needy growls bellowed forth, like a monster closing in on its prey. His mind made up, Cirrus made a beeline for the food court, his eyes greedily pouring over the many fast food options. So distracted, he bumped into somepony.
Shocked, he was about to apologise, when he saw exactly who he’d collided with. “Cirrus! It’s been a while, how are you?” Blossomforth smiled.
“Blossom? Why are you here?”
“Shopping, duh. Just picking some cute little clothes for myself, you?”
“The same, heh.” Cirrus raised the two bags slightly.
“That’s cool.” She paused, her grin widening. “Hey, you wanna get something for lunch, my treat!” Cirrus looked like he wanted to protest, before his belly answered for him, visibly trembling from how loud it was. Smiling, she took him by the hand, leading him over to a vacant table, enclosed by a booth. Squishing his gut past the table, he eased himself into the plush seating, the material deforming from Cirrus' immense weight. “Just wait there, I’ll grab you something delicious big boy…”
Before he could say a word, she was already darting between tables, joining the small queue for ‘Pizza Cabin’. A few minutes later, a steaming, 11-inch circle of molten, gooey cheese and hay-pepperoni slid in front of him. Needing no prompt, he snatched up the first slice, grease already slathered across his fingers. Taking a big bite, he relished the flavour, swallowing quickly as he took a larger, sloppier bite.
Cirrus was lost in a world of food, oblivious to the world around him. No amount of stares or disgusted looks he got from other patrons could touch him, polishing half the pizza off. He didn’t even notice Blossomforth disappearing, returning with a pair of near identical boxes from ‘WC Roalnalds’ Stuffing the last hunk of pizza down his throat, the blubber bound colt let off a belch, his moobs quivering from their tight confines.
Seamlessly, he opened the boxes, two fresh hayburgers sitting there, dripping with various condiments and excess grease. Wrapping his lips around them, he continued to take monstrous bites, the taste of fried hay, lettuce, tomato and ketchup barraging his taste buds. Further and further, he descended into gluttony, grabbing salty chips by the handful, crunching them down with hefty gulps of milkshake.
Even as his gut swelled forwards, forcing his ill-fitting shirt to roll up further, hunger consumed him. Polishing off the last of the toasted buns, 3 wrapped tacos from ‘Taco Gong’ were dumped before Cirrus. His greasy fingers unwrapped the crunchy shelled treats, only just finishing his mouthful before tucking into the Mareican cuisine. On and on he ploughed, Blossom finally taking a seat to watch the glutton continue to pack on the pounds.
Second by second, she watched his glorping stomach processing the thousands of calories, the slight tightness disappearing as new layers of adipose tissue blanketed his figure. The air was thick with the sound of piggish consumption, straining and tearing of clothing, and tortured squeaks and moans of springs and wood of the booth. Then it stopped. Licking his fingers clean, Cirrus laid back, a resounding belch erupting.
“Enjoy that big boy?”
“Mmmm hmmmm.”
“Feeling satisfied yet?”
“Nopuuuuurrrppp!!!”
“Alright… I’ll just get some more then.” Smiling ear to ear, Blossom trotted off, bearing down upon a doughnut shop. Placing her order for a dozen of the greasy calorie bombs, she pulled her phone from her pocket. Flicking through her contacts, she dialled a number.
“Hey, can I get a taxi for two from Ponyville Mall? Yes, half an hour is fine. Oh and make sure it’s got lots of space in the back”. Ending the call, she plucked the weighty package from the counter, thanking the worker.
“I wonder just how much food Cirrus can stomach?”