Summertime Gluttony

by MetalBrony20

Day Forty Seven - The Weight of his Actions

‘Ggggrrrgglllleeee’ A low grumbling noise echoed, Cirrus squinting as he returned to the waking world. Blinking blearily as he awoke, he let out a quiet yawn, shifting slightly from his position on the bed. Merely sitting up slightly drew an agonising sound of tortured metal, interspersed by the sound of bedsprings pinging. Wiping his mouth and rubbing his eyes, he glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. Displayed in dull red were the digits 10:35 , Cirrus sighing at the sight. “Mmmh… I keep getting up later and later…”

‘Grrrrgggmmmm’ Another bout of complaint rolled forth out from his exceptionally wide gut, slapping it in annoyance. “Alright alright… I’m getting up.” Slowly kicking the covers off, the colt began the excruciatingly long process of getting up. First, he had to get out of the large depression in the mattress. With nearly 400 pounds of pony resting on such a tiny bed, it couldn’t help but sink around his bulk. A near perfect impression of his outline was squashed into the material, reminding him of the chalk outlines seen in murder mystery novels.

Shimmying himself awkwardly, he swung his legs over the edge, planting the fatty appendage on the soft carpet. With a little more jostling and maneuvering, he sat up, hands resting upon the apron of flesh that was his gut. Bracing himself, he planted his hands into the fluffy mattress, pushing up with all his might. Grunting and puffing, each inch that his legs extended was hard fought for. Every iota of strength was channeled through his flab drowned legs and through his amply padded core. Muscles which were coated in inches of soft and heavy pudge that wobbled like jelly. So heavy and so malleable, there wasn’t a moment where some part of his anatomy was sliding, squishing or oozing past another.

With a final gasping breath, Cirrus was finally on his feet. After barely a minute after waking up, he was already feeling wiped. Large beads of sweat rolled across his forehead, down his tennis ball like cheeks, and trailed over his tyre like neck fold. Pathetically wiping it away with the back of his hand, the colt couldn’t help but inspect how much he’d let himself grow. All those weeks ago, it was fairly easy to keep himself deluded about his gains.

After all, there was still a plethora of garments that fit him stashed away in his drawers, and the short walks he took when he wasn’t busy stuffing his face made him feel fit. Cirrus had, however, run out of any excuse. Weighing as much as 4 ponies your age really put into perspective how much of a fatty he’d grown into. That, and that the clothes he’d bought from the Wide and Tall shop were already inadequate. The elasticated underwear he wore strongly conformed to the vast swell of his ass cheeks, a near innumerable number of tears and rips dotted across the fabric.

He blushed, remembering the repairs Blossomforth had made to them. Comically large hearts had been stitched over the most egregious holes.

Pinching the swell of his belly roll, he grimaced, the slab of blubber yielding to his touch, fingers sinking into the doughy mass. It was like grabbing a pillow, an exceptionally heavy one at that. Under its incredible weight, the fold ringed blob easily passed his knees, providing yet another difficulty to simple locomotion. And if that wasn’t bad enough, those overburdened legs were swallowed up in stacks upon stacks of lard. Clinging in giant slabs, his thighs and calves had blown up considerably. Like the tree trunks of a healthy apple tree, the simple width they possessed quashed even the simple process of walking.

Satisfied he’d got his breath back, the oversized colt swung his leg forward, light slapping emanating as they displaced half a dozen overhanging rolls and folds. Like ripples on an ocean, he could feel every inch of his form undulate. From his ham like bingo wings, to the rubber ring like back rolls, to the impressively large moobs swelling on his chest. Moving his other leg in an exaggerated arc, they repeated the concussive dance of flesh, with a slight bias towards the left side of his figure. Every step was hard fought for, his figure rocking and bobbing around like a rowboat in a storm.

Reaching the stairs, Cirrus stared down the short decent. Sure, it was far easier going down than up, but each step down was a nerve-wracking experience. Audibly gulping, his pudgy hand grasped at the bannister as he took his first step. All 400 pounds of blubber was concentrated onto just one leg, the wood groaning in protest, bowing in the middle. Placing his other foot allowed for the weight to be distributed more evenly, the bowing lessening in its severity. Every heart pounding second reminding him of just how obese he’d become. Gravity acutely affected every overhanging slab of fat, fully intent on pinning him to the ground; not a fact that Cirrus wanted to admit to himself.

Clearing the stairs, he plodded into the kitchen, feet slapping on the tile. Moving as swiftly as he could manage, cabinet doors were pulled open, revealing plentiful piles of junk food. Cookies and cupcakes, doughnuts and brownies. Grabbing as many boxes as possible, Cirrus clutched the stash to his chest, hard plastic pressing into soft moob flesh. “Mmm, it all looks so good!” He mumbled, waddling into the living room. The increasing mass of Cirrus had progressively tortured the sofa, much in the same fashion as his bed. Such was clear by the two round divots worn into each cushion.

Dumping the treats onto a wide coffee table, Cirrus grasped a sofa arm, depositing himself into the cushioned embrace of the couch. Resting his weight upon the cushions, he could feel the spherical mounds of his ass fat squish outwards, neatly expanding to fill enough room to accommodate 3 adults. Almost the instant he’d sat down, his stomach let out a needy, demanding bellow. Needing little more encouragement, he dove in. The sounds of plastic crumpling, labels tearing, and ravenous munches permeated the room.

With little regard for decorum, the blubber bound colt tore through box after box. A baker's dozen of doughnuts vanished, followed by fifteen cupcakes, their multicoloured icing splattered across his wobbling cheeks. Crumbs liberally dusted his chest, joined by stray chocolate chips and sprinkles. Enough dessert to feed several families resided in his belly, ever so slightly swollen from the heavy mass of pastries and sweets. And yet, he still felt, unsatisfied. Upending the last box, letting the specs of sugar tumble into his gaping maw, his gut still yearned for more.
“You’ve… got to buuuurrrppp kidding me… I need more!” A deep belch rumbled forth, his stained lips rippling from the force. Tapping his bulbous double chin, he caught sight of the telephone, sitting just beside the couch. Shimmying himself along, he grabbed the receiver, cradling it in his flabby palm. With the promise of more sustenance, he eagerly dialed Blossomforth’s number, chubby digits fumbling to press buttons designed for far thinner fingers. As thought’s of meals galore racing through his food addicted brain, the sugary voice of Blossom came drifting through his ears.

---

“Huff… come… on… wheeze… just a… pant… few more… houses… puff… to go!” Cirrus laboured to speak, plodding along the pavement. After a brief chat with Blossom over eating arrangements, the colt spent the best part of three quarters of an hour making himself decent. Getting off the sofa, climbing up the stairs, getting a quick wash in, squeezing himself into the few pieces of attire which didn’t resemble torn rags. Every action that wasn’t eating, sleeping or sitting was a chore; Physically exhausting beyond any reasonable degree.

His breath was heavy, his heart pounding so loud it rang through his head. What was considered to be but a simple walk down the street had become a marathon. Quivering and wobbling, his figure danced maddeningly, his ill-fitting t-shirt rolling upwards exposing every inch of his lower belly roll. His underwear became uncomfortably lodged between his wrecking ball like buttocks, forcing him to hitch and pull them out, followed by Cirrus pulling his shorts up. Not that he could see his underwear, mind you. Aside from when he could look in the mirror, everything below that immense apron of belly vanished. Only with the most exaggerated of movements in his legs, could he hope to see the tips of his toes.

Wheezing, panting and perspiring in the sun, the only thin veil of good news was the lack of anypony else. The last thing he needed were ponies gawking and pointing like he was some circus sideshow. Passing by another of his neighbours' abodes, he finally arrived at his destination. Struggling up the steps of the porch, he knocked firmly, his bingo wing shaking with each thump. Leaning against the wall, tongue lolling out of his mouth, he waited those agonising seconds as a shape materialised through the frosted glass. The brass handle turned, Blossomforth standing and smiling in the doorway.

“Hey big boy… I made plenty of lunch for you. I hope you have the space for it all.” She giggled, pressing a hand to his exposed belly button, smirking as it growled in response. “Come on in, or it’ll get cold.” Nodding sharply, Cirrus waddled into the open door. Only for him to become immediately stuck. Grunting and straining, he forced his apron gut through, inch by blubbery inch. Like dough rising out of a pan, flesh oozed through the doorway.

“Nnnngh… come on stupid… mmmff!” Cirrus harrumphed, wincing as he noticed the red marks forming along his love handles. Worse still, after getting most of his belly through, a sudden grip surrounded his butt. Grabbing the door frame, he heaved and tugged, the deluge of sweat renewing. “I... I can still… wheeze… fit through… hah…” But, no matter how hard he pushed and maneuvered, his colossal ass was still wobbling outside. Despite how malleable his flab was, it had eventually reached a limit.

“Cirrus, stop.” Blossom simply said, resting a hand firmly upon his shoulder. “You’re just going to hurt and tire yourself out if you keep doing that.” She paused, scratching her chin as the struggling colt relaxed. “Hold on, I’ve got a plan.” Stepping forwards, she planted her shoulder directly into his gut, shoving hard against the Cirrus. The force would surely have him to stumble if he wasn’t so perfectly wedged.

“Whoa… what are you… doing?” Puffing as she grabbed at his love handles, pushing them out of the doorway.

“You’re much too large to get through. The gate for the back garden is much wider, you’ll definitely fit.”

“Great, more walking…” He mumbled, wincing once more from a slightly too forceful shove. After a minute more of manhandling the abundant flab, he was free. Groaning, Cirrus turned around, plodding down the porch steps, taking a right. Following a series of paving stones that emerged between the browning grass, he could hear creaking metal, a deadbolt being slid off soon after. Just as he’d reached the brown door, it swung open, Blossom smiling as she held it wide open.

Reciprocating to the best of his ability, he marched on, sucking his gut in the best he could. Mercifully, only a slight portion of his gut kissed the edges, buttocks entering without a problem. Heavy breaths fluttered from Ciruss’ mouth, unaccustomed to standing for such a long period, so much so that he ignored the beautifully tended garden, a whole plethora of brightly coloured blooms filling the beds. Focused on putting one foot in front of the other, he spied a sizable table, a rugged-looking bench parked just in front. Treading onto the patio, he took a final few steps, before planting himself down with an exaggerated huff and pant.

“Cirrus, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good… lemme just, catch my… huff… breath. And my… strength…” Sighing contentedly, he spread his weight across the seating, vaguely aware of how bent it was becoming. Just a nice cool breeze, shielded from the sun by the bulk of the house. It was rather pleasant.

“Hey Cirrus, how about you eat out here, instead of going inside?” He nodded, humming in agreement. “Alright… how about you just spin around to the table, and I’ll get everything set up big boy… you need any help with that?”

“Nah… I’m good thanks.” He replied, nodding appreciatively as Blossom disappeared through a sliding glass door. Taking quick steps, he shuffled himself around, misjudging how much clearance was between the bench and table. Despite a good amount of room between the pieces of furniture, the swell of his upper roll pressed into the table's edge; whilst his lower roll tucked under. The bench, good enough to seat several ponies, was simply inadequate for his size. He’d neatly enveloped the entire top of the seat, his fatty ass sagging over the edges.
Settling some more of his gut between his legs, Cirrus let out a sigh of relief. Soon, however, the sound of sandals slapping on paving slabs emanated from his side. With a practiced flourish, Blossom slid a large platter across the tabletop. Six double hay burgers stacked together in a small pyramid, the golden fried hay glistening with melted cheese and sauce between the brioche buns. Beside this, a good few handfuls of fries sat. Last, a large jug of water and an ice filled glass sat, condensation dribbling down the sides.

Thin trails of drool escaped his gaping maw, grabbing a burger and stuffing it into his mouth. Devouring his first bite, a muffled thank you escaped, Cirrus’s cheeks tinged red. “Don’t worry about it! Besides, words are cheap; seeing you satisfied with my cooking is all the thanks I need…” Nodding, Cirrus continued his feast with fervor, decimating one calorie dense sandwich after another, greasy sauce dipped fries interspersed occasionally.

From six to five, from five to three and three to zero, Cirrus polished off the family sized meal with relative ease. A low, rolling belch erupted forth, his ketchup and grease spotted lips rippling. Quaffing mouthfuls of ice-cold water, Blossom whisked the plate away, disappearing from view. Moments later, Cirrus caught the whiff of melted cheese as a 18” pizza was placed down. Already cut into several slices, Cirrus took no time at all, wrapping his fingers around the doughy triangle.

Passing it over his lips, a flood of gooey mozzarella cheese mingled with the excellent tomato sauce. Pleasure signals rocketed to his brain and was more than happy to devour every slice present. Sloppy chewing and audible gulps accompanied the destruction of the Neightalian cuisine, his pace diminishing somewhat as he moved onto the last slice. Licking the cheese and grease from his fingers, he glanced down at his gut. Demolishing all that food had caused his stomach to swell outwards further than he remembered, forcing part of his upper roll to squish into the table more.

However, these concerns were quashed by another plate. Three oat burritos and a generous amount of nacho’s accompanied it. Despite his body telling him how full he was, he ignored it. Chomping through the first one was like biting into a pillow; the insides were packed to the brim with rice, beans, oats and plenty of sauce, stuffed into a fluffy tortilla. Such intense culinary delights continued to distract Cirrus from the vast pile of food currently residing within his gut, furiously working away at the mountain of calories.

Nevertheless, he marched on, conquering each densely packed Marexican delights, the crunchy corn chips interspersed with the soft rolls. As with the other dishes, they too had been wiped from existence, leaving nought but crumbs and spots of sauce upon the plate and Cirrus. “You up for dessert, big boy?” Blossomforth asked casually, placing a hand upon the swell of his exposed belly flab.

Internally, Cirrus’s body wanted to quit. Several pounds of food sat in his impossibly stretched belly, resting heavily upon him. “Yes… please… uuuurrrppp!!!” He belched, adjusting his position the best he could. Amongst the gurgles of his overworked gut, the splintering and creaking of wood was faintly detectable, the overstressed seat singing its death throes. Regardless, it didn’t stop Cirrus from delicately working his way through a pile of brownies and doughnuts, or as delicately as a morbidly obese colt can manage.

Through a fusillade of signals telling him to stop, the pile of food in his gut grew ever larger, shrinking as his body hastily converted it into more and more layers of fat. Now at a crawl, he persisted in his consumption. Inexorably he forced another greasy jam-filled treat down, the last gooey brown following on seconds later. Upending the plate, the smattering of crumbs tumbled into his gaping mouth, disappearing into the black void.

Ccrrrrrrr...rrack!

Suddenly, the bench was torn in two. Falling the short distance, a loud slap rang out as his ass contacted the ground. The immense impact, the power of which he hadn’t experienced in a long time, drew a tsunami’s worth of ripped out. Rolls and folds shifted and danced like gelatin, slapping together to form a microcosm of smaller tremors. Leaning his arms back, he caught himself, preventing the momentum from pushing him onto his back. “Cirrus! Are you alright?” Blossom exclaimed.

“Yea… I’m fine uuuuurrpppp!! Can you… uh, help me out?”

“Of course! Just brace yourself for a sec, OK?” Cirrus nodded, feeling Blossom force her arms under his shoulders, looping around. “Ready? 1...2...3 nnnnnrrgghh!” Digging her feet into the ground, Blossom pulled with all her might. Her wings pounded, each flap bringing the 400 pound colt an inch higher at a time, eventually getting his feet planted on the ground. A few strenuous beats more, and Cirrus could stand under his own power.

“Sorry about the chair.” Mumbling, he felt Blossom’s hand gently resting on his back. Taking the hint, he waddled towards the house, thankfully slipping through the glass door.

“It’s fine, Cirrus, my family never liked it much. Besides, you don’t have to apologise for being a growing boy.” Passing through the kitchen, his belly growled in protest, the smell of cooking heavy in the air. Guiding him to the living room, she presented him with a wide faux-leather couch. Settling into the plush expanse, a wave of fatigue flooded over him, not dissimilar to the one brought about by a large Hearth’s Warming lunch.

“Bbboouuurrpppp… uh, hey Blossom? Can I take a nap here? I’m feeling pretty… yawn… wiped.”

“Sure thing! If you want, you can stay the whole night! You want a blanket or anything?” She cooly responded, only just able to contain her excitement.

“Nah… I get too warm in bed nowadays. Thanks for the offer.” Nodding, he gave her a small smile, forcing his cheeks to dimple cutely. Letting out another yawn, his eyelids drooped, his head flopping onto the back cushions. Sleep rapidly claimed him, he could feel Blossom’s hand gently rubbing his lower belly roll.

“Good night Cirrus, by tomorrow, this belly is going to be bigger and softer… and you’ll want even more food to fill it up. So sleep well, big boy, because you’re going to be an even bigger boy soon.”

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[DrHoliday]