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// Night Twenty Nine - Dreams of Flabsolution 
// Story: Summertime Gluttony 
// by MetalBrony20 
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“Cirrus? Cirrus Sweep? Are you paying attention, young man?”  

A sudden, familiar voice reached his ears, eyes opened blearily, raising his head. Squinting, the massive colt finally realised who he was looking at. His teacher, Ms. Windy, was standing directly in front. She looked down, giving Cirrus a look half-way between annoyed and concerned. Blinking, he looked around, familiar charts, posters and diagrams lining the walls of the room. Suddenly, he realized the sound of whispering and muffled laughter coming from multiple angles behind and to his sides.

“Wha, what…” mumbling, he rubbed his eyes, trying to grasp what he was doing back in school. “But… it’s the summer holidays, we’ve still got 2 months left…” Turning his head, he spotted Blossomforth a few rows back, giving him a small wave. Fully aware of his surroundings, anxiety bubbled in his chest, everypony watching him with varying degrees of amusement. 

“Cirrus, are you feeling alright?” Windy spoke once more, drawing the colt’s eyes away from his classmates and back to the front. 

“Err, yes. Yes, Ms. Windy.” He nervously stuttered. Confused, he was becoming increasingly aware of how poorly his desk accommodated his size. He was sure that he could fit just fine in the old one. However, this was true around 160 lbs ago. Instead, a much more familiar amount of weight sagged forth from his figure. Weighing as much as three colts made seating a significant challenge. Every slight adjustment and move drew the horrendous sound of plastic and metal creaking.

“That’s wonderful to hear Cirrus. Should I repeat the question for you?” He nodded, his double chin smacking against his jowls and neck. Smiling, she stepped back, pointing a ruler to a picture chalked to the blackboard. A light ‘clack’ rang out as it connected, gesturing towards a pony of indistinct gender, munching on a chocolate bar. “Now, what happens when we eat too much food?”

A simple question, the words bouncing around in Cirrus’s mind like pinballs. “Err, well, we… get fat?” 

She smiled widely, replacing the image. It showed the same pony, their belly and butt much wider, their face buried in an enormous cake. “Correct Cirrus. When a pony eats more food than their body needs, excess energy cannot be used by the body. If the individual performs rigorous physical activity, such as running, swimming or flying, then this should be kept in check.” Nodding, Cirrus attempted to keep his attention focused upon his teacher.

‘Guuurgglleee’ A low grumble emanated from his middle, loud enough to draw the notice of the closest classmates. Feeling their eyes upon his chunky back, Cirrus gave his stomach a rough pat, sending a shock wave of ripples outwards. A small magical pop drew his eyes up, discovering a small mountain of chocolate bars had been dumped on his desk. Unsure what exactly was happening, he reached out for one. Wrapped in black packaging, the hefty rectangle rested upon his outstretched hand. Wincing as a small jolt of hunger emanated from his core, Cirrus discarded the packaging, taking a bite whilst returning his attention to the board.

“However, if their body cannot burn it off, all that excess sugar and fat are processed down into raw energy, which is given to specialised cells called adipose cells. Or as we call them, fat cells.” The image changed again, this time bringing up a diagram showing what looked to be a deflated ball, gradually becoming rounder, arrows forming between them. “As you see, a fat cell is normally very flat. As the excess energy is converted into fat, it swells the cell larger and larger, until it reaches full capacity. After that, a new cell is created, allowing more storage of excess weight.” 

Starting on his second bar, Cirrus’s hunger had yet to diminish. Continuing to listen intently, small spots of chocolate dotted his lips as he reached out for a third. “This storage of energy is useful for animals, especially during the winter, where it acts as both insulation and an alternative supply of energy when food is scarce. This is true for us ponies too.”

“Because of how food has become more available, and we don’t need to freeze out in the elements, weight gain has become more common. No need to go out and forage for roots amongst the snow and ice when the greengrocer is across the street. No need to harvest eggs, milk, sugar and wheat to make a cake when the baker has one ready for you. Abundance and laxity means that it can become far too easy to eat more than you need.” Cirrus nodded, cramming a finger of fudge into his maw.

She changed the image, this time showing Cirrus a picture of a stallion sitting upon a sofa. His flanks were wide, wide enough to kiss both arms of the family-sized couch. His gut oozed forwards, resting on the floor like a mound of unbaked dough. Plentiful rolls sagged over one another, forming great wobbly piles of pudge. Great moobs blossomed outwards, contained by a t-shirt that had been reduced to a bra. Pillow sized arms, tire-size neck roll, and an enormous slab of a triple chin formed much of his upper torso. 

“When a pony gets very fat, a new term applies to them, obesity. This can become a self-perpetuating problem. They get hungrier, their body demanding more food as their mind becomes more addicted to the sugary, fatty delights. They get more tired, so they rest more often, and eat and drink to remedy this. Larger and larger they get, their body becoming so filled with blubber that they eventually cannot walk. Either supporting themselves alone, or with somepony enabling them, they end up sitting around day after day.” 

At those words, Cirrus could feel Blossom’s eyes boring into the back of his skull, his unease of the situation rising once more. It didn’t help when Ms. Windy grabbed one of the discarded wrappers, turning it over in her comparatively dainty fingers. “Now, here’s a question for the class. This bar contains 250 calories, and Cirrus here has eaten 9. How many calories has he eaten roughly?” A smattering of hands rose. “Yes, Blossomforth?”

“If each bar is roughly the same amount, he’s eaten 2250 calories!” She answered promptly, the sound of glee present in her voice.

“Perfect answer. Additionally, it’s also 500 calories less than the recommended daily intake is too. Just two more bars and you’ve reached it...you’re ever so close.” The butterball of a colt didn’t say anything, only just realising he’d decimated 9 full bars like they were snack-sized. Embarrassment burning his rounded cheeks, it didn’t perturb him from grabbing the final bar. 

‘Drrrrring!!!!’ The battered red bell clattered, blasting the colt's ear with the sonorous sound of relief. Recess. Almost in unison, the whole cohort rose to their feet, the sound of chairs sliding over linoleum mingling with the excited shouts of each student. For Cirrus, however, it was easier said than done. Pushing his chair back was hard work, making sure to not tip over. The next problem arose because of his burgeoning gut. So much blubber oozed forth that much of the space below the desk was occupied. 

With a feeble shove, Cirrus forced his desk out of the way, grabbing onto the wood top. Grunting, his pillar thick legs straightened out, the overstressed chair practically sighing in relief. Beads of sweat ran down his face, faint pants escaping his mouth with each hard fought inch. Awkwardly stepping into the corridor between the desks, Cirrus’s blush returned, realising he was the only pony left aside from Ms. Windy.  

Waddling between the lines of desks, his generous plot sloshed back and forth like jelly. Every pendulum like motion that generated collided with a chair, drawing a wince with each loud clatter they made. Reaching the bag store at the far end, his bag was in the lowest row. Bending down, his posterior jutted out, filling every inch of fabric and drawing them tight against the immense swell of each ass cheek.

Staggering slightly, his fingers gingerly grasped the straps, giving it a sharp tug. ‘SSHHRRRIIIPPP!!!’ Standing bolt upright, Cirrus craned his head around, groaning at what he saw. A near perfect line had been torn straight down his ass crack, offering a frayed window to a pair of white boxers stamped with little red hearts. Gulping, he glanced towards Ms. Windy, who’d busied herself with clearing away the presentation. “At least she didn’t see it…” he mumbled under his breath, slinging his rucksack over his chunky shoulder.

Squeezing his way through the door, his gut pressed near painfully into the frame as the sharp edges caught and ripped more parts of clothes. Frustrated, he waddled outside, his nostrils filled with fresh, cool air. The sounds of shouting and laughing drifted over, fillies and colts up and about doing a myriad of activities amongst themselves.

Before he could even consider joining them, a needy gurgle rose, Cirrus staring down in bewilderment. “Aww come on… I ate a few minutes ago.” Rubbing his hand across the plush, doughy surface, Cirrus waddled over to one of the picnic benches. Swinging his hips over the seat propagated a sloshing motion through the hundreds of excess pounds, the tear in his shorts widening in response.

Seating himself, the blubber bound colt shrugged the backpack off, unzipping it. Rather than a scattering of stationary and books, the entire volume had been packed with junk food. Glancing back and forth, he upended the sack, causing it to spill out across the table. “I can’t eat all this, right?” Quietly mumbling, he plucked a family-sized bag of crisps from the top.

With a satisfying pop, he opened the bag, grabbing the first greasy potato slice. Stuffing it in, the tangy taste of salt and vinegar burst across his taste buds. He smiled, causing his flabby cheeks to dimple. Easily polishing one off, he grabbed another, followed by a handful. Cirrus rapidly fell back into the siren call of food. Practically shoving his face into the bag, it didn’t take long for it to diminish to little more than crumbs and salt grains. 

Licking his hands clean, he eagerly moved to a cheerful white box. Flipping it up, a myriad of doughnuts were presented; the glazed ones practically shone in the sunlight. With little more thought, they rapidly disappeared into the void of a gut, noisily churning and glorping away at the pile of calorie dense junk, excess calories rapidly increasing.

“UUURRRPPPPP!!!!” A loud belch exploded forth, flecks of jam, pastry and sugar ringed around his mouth. With a good amount of gas released, Cirrus continued his gluttonous quest. Packages of brownies, tortilla chips, biscuits, huge sandwiches, the colt cared little for what he ate, nor that there was more food present that could actually fit into his backpack. 

No, he couldn’t help but continue to gorge like he’d been starved. Of course, such rampant gluttony wasn’t without consequence. Though he didn’t feel the least bit full, his body bulked out instead. His blubbery ass couldn’t help but store a few extra pounds, the tear in his shorts becoming wider and wider, joined by extra tears down the seams. His shirt rolled upwards, the fabric slipping over battening side folds, cupping his moobs.

As his mouth dried out, he grabbed a liter bottle of cola. Breaking the seal, the brown sugary liquid was guzzled down in short order, another belch following shortly after. With every bite and gulp, his body swelled outwards, thousands upon thousands of excess calories turning into fat cells. The wooden bench had developed a sizable dip, the wood bowing, ominous creaks and splintering noises being heard through the cacophony of stomach noise and slovenly eating.

So engrossed, Cirrus gave little worry to the food pile up on the table out of nowhere. He cared little that some frosty milkshakes were labeled as ‘weight gain shake’. He didn’t even care as Blossomforth helped to stuff all of it into his mouth like a conveyor belt. His thoughts were little more than pleading demands for more, vocalised as needy cries of “More!”, punctuated by sweet, greasy belches. 

As his top was eviscerated by the combined powers of his moobs and back fat, the flexible seat could take no more. Polishing off another box of jam and chocolate stuffed doughnuts, a sharp snap rang out, the sudden feeling of free fall interrupted by the ground milliseconds later. With one final burp, his shorts detonated, his heart stamped boxers on full display. Stuffed to the gills, he slumped back, head colliding with the ground.





“Woah!!” Cirrus shouted, his eyes flicking open, greeted by near total dark. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes, before wiping away a thin line of drool dripping onto the pillow. “Oh, it was a dream…” He mumbled, replaying the odd scene in his head. Glancing over to the bedside table, moonlight illuminated the clock face, the hands pointing to 2:42. 

“I really should stop having so much cheese before I go to bed.” Cirrus mumbled, flipping the pillow over, revelling in the cool fabric. Yawning, he adjusted the thin duvet, bed springs groaning at even the slightest movement. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, his massive body weight spread across the whole mattress. Totally silent apart from thin breaths, he was ready to sleep once more.

‘Grrruuggrrrlleee…’ 

“Well… I guess a midnight snack couldn’t hurt…”