Brews, Blubber and Balloons

by MetalBrony20

Chapter 2

When Zecora awoke, she felt horrible. Blearily opening her eyes, her head pounded something fierce, bringing a hand to the side of her head. Wincing from the internal thumping reverberating through her skull, she pushed the covers off, staring up at the ceiling. “Oooohhh, whatever did I do last night, my mind is full of pain so fierce and bright.” Shimmying herself to the edge of the bed, she moaned in annoyance as her body awkwardly rocked and shook back and forth her usual motions far less fluid. She just felt heavy and sluggish. Not to mention a very notable feeling of discomfort around her face and hands. They felt dirty and sticky, drawing another wince as she rubbed her fingers together, some of the dried-on mess flaking off.

Stepping to her left, she traveled the short distance to the bathroom, far more arduous than she remembered. Her legs didn’t seem to want to stay close together, limbs pressed apart by something and forcing the zebra to adopt a slight waddle. The headache was dissipating, and yet the cloying, slothful feeling gripping her form refused to leave. She could feel parts of her body moving in unfamiliar ways, her clothing feeling uncomfortable and tight, rubbing against her skin. Parts of her body seemed to rub against each other, her thighs chief amongst them. Giving the bathroom door a shove, a jiggling, jostling sensation shot through her. She panted a little, the effort needed to lift the limb was more than a little concerning to her.

Her feet padded across the cool stone flooring, making her way to the adjacent sink. “I really must find out why everything is so strange, hopefully then I can make a change…” her rhyme was cut short, transfixed upon the mirror. A face, as wide-eyed as herself, stared right back. Both familiar and utterly foreign, she could hardly recognise herself under the level of rotundness that had swelled her features out to such an unbelievable size. Where once her cheekbones and jawline had been well defined, instead a hefty set of jowls and a prominent double chin had appeared. She watched in muted horror as every slight movement of her mouth sent her newly acquired face fat into motion, allowing her to catch slight glimpses of a third chin beginning to move in.

This gently brushed against the budding ring of neck flab, pushing out onto her thoroughly padded shoulders. Taking an unsteady step backward, Zecora continued to goggle at her body, slowly turning and being rewarded with yet more confirmations that she’d been turned into a blimp of lard. Her butt appeared to be where most of her gains had accumulated. Her modest booty was now a pair of immense striped orbs, the twin mounds seeming quite capable of collapsing any hapless couch they came across. Supporting them was a set of pillar thick thighs, which in turn was being held aloft by her doughy lower legs. Glancing down, she was taken aback. So focused upon her lower half in the mirror, she’d somehow missed her upper half. Blocking her view was the twin forces of her breasts and belly.

The ovoid orb that had once been her belly had shrunk, replaced by a smaller, yet no less unsubstantial roll ringed glob of blubber that sloshed about uncontrollably. It sagged down, resting just a hair above her knees, each fold as thick as a pillow. Her clothing had taken a significant blow, the material stretched and distorted around her overblow figure. Zecora’s bottoms were almost entirely covered by her belly and ass, the taut fabric forming a partial muffin top as it forced her belly up. The story was much the same further north, where her now impressive rack threatened to pop out of her struggling top. “Oh my, my poor belly, it now wobbles and shakes like jelly! This whole debacle has caught me off guard, and now my butt and thighs are full of lard.” She continued to stare, lifting up and dropping a few rolls, her hands sinking into the doughy surface. Gingerly, she grabbed her flannel from the side of her basin, wetting it and wiping away at the stains plaster across her face. She winced at every slight touch and swipe, her complexion wobbling and undulating uncontrollably.

As her eyes slowly crawled across the mirror, she spotted something behind her. Turning around, she could see a discarded plastic box sitting in the door of her bedroom, a mess of brown crumbs spilling out. Instantly, yesterday’s events came flooding back to her mind. Like a fog had been lifted, she gasped at the sudden realisation. Moving as fast as her column thick legs could carry her, she waddled into the kitchen, her suspicions confirmed. “What an utter mess! I never do such a thing unless under duress…” she grimaced at the room that had played witness to a battlefield of gluttony. Cupboard doors wide open, as was the fridge which, a trail of water dribbling from the entrance from where an empty carton of cream hung out. Worktops here were littered with vegetable detritus, a pile of apple cores was steadily browning. And on the floor, a veritable ocean of plastic, paper, and food scraps laid, Zecora managing to avoid stepping on a frosting splattered cake plate.

“From a few simple herbs created such a destructive potion. No matter, I know of another brew to undo all this commotion.” Sighing again at the rubbish pile, she turned about, waddling towards her potion journal. Scribbling down notes a few notes regarding her latest connection, she then flicked back, leafing through hundreds of strange combinations she’d tried and tested in the past, either on herself or on willing volunteers. She fumbled, her enlarged digits finding it far harder to find purchase on each page. Each time one slipped between her sausage-like digits, her annoyance was further amplified, causing her fumblings to worsen and causing her to tear a few pages.

Zecora huffed, taking a few deep breaths and forcing herself to calm down. “This is no time to lose my head, keep yourself calm and collected to work the problem instead.” Slowing down, the damage her fattened fingers caused diminished, and soon she found herself on the page she needed. The title, simply written as ‘the weight loss potion’, seemed to be easy enough. From her scrawled handwriting, it was noted that a small dosage was easily able to remove the slight bit of winter weight she’d developed whilst staying at Twilight’s house one particularly cold Hearthswarming. She had been rather gassy afterward, but it’d passed soon enough.

Preparing her cauldron, she moved in a loop, going from the book to the pot and finally to the ingredient shelves, rummaging between the hundreds of bottles. A process made far, far harder by her mass. It seemed as though her fat had a mind of its own, actively conspiring against the obese zebra to prevent her from brewing the potion. Once again, her clumsy fingers found it harder to grab, struggling to grab the more delicate flasks and vials, on more than one occasion almost dropping them. Her arms and belly would often knock over other jars, her spatial awareness utterly warped by the extra inches of flesh. The real kicker was her ass cheeks which were like wrecking balls, two pendulous hills that under the slightest suggestion would swing around violently.

On accident, Zecora had managed to send a side table flying as her vast badonkadonk came around in a lazy arc, the energy imparted managing to splinter one of the legs. And speaking of legs, her immense weight was dragging her down. Every roll and fold of flab, every overhand and every curve was constantly being dragged down by gravity. Hundreds of extra pounds she simply wasn’t used to bearing upon herself. She panted and gasped, her work slowing to a crawl as she ferried the last of the required ingredients to the pot. A box filled with mint leaves, she ground up a small handful of them, creating a green paste. The smell they gave off was strong, her belly gurgling as it brought forth a flood of mental images. Another growl emitted as she pictured the chocolate and mint cookies she had last night, both soft and chewy, but with good firmness as well.

“No! Stop these silly pictures and mental ploys, the brew should allow my mind to be free of such culinary joys.” Steeling herself, she tipped out the mint, falling into the mixture with a splash. Mixing as fast as she dared, she tried to ignore the feeling of her bingo wings sloshing and jiggling about as she stirred, the great ham-sized lumps of arm fat colliding with her breasts, propagating the wobbling throughout her entire being. Fortunately, the rather pungent odour emitted by the brew helped to deaden these thoughts, the liquid inside turning a scarlet red as it was finally ready.

Using a ladle, she scooped out a cupful of the mixture, narrowly avoiding scolding her tongue at the last second. Letting it cool for a few moments, she downed it in a single mouthful, throat minutely rippling as she swallowed. “Blergh! I forgot about the rancid taste, thankfully I swallowed it all in great haste.” wiping a few stray droplets of the mixture from the corners of her mouth, she could hear her belly making all manner of sounds as the potion settled inside. “From what I recall, it took a rather long while for the effects to work, I may as well spend my time clearing my mess, I’m going to be in for the long haul.”

Psyching herself up for what she knew would be a long, tedious job, she took a few small breaths, a small burp coming out a moment later. Ignoring it, she waddled her way to the kitchen, beginning the arduous task of clearing up the small mountain of trash. Finding a roll of garbage bags, she set about what appeared to be a simple but easy task. She was correct in that assumption. True, it would be easy, but once again, her own anatomy was working against her. With almost all the litter on the floor, Zecora was forced to bend down to get at it. A task that was once so much simpler when she didn’t weigh a quarter ton. Fighting against her boobs and belly, the squishy flesh oozed and sloshed about as she fought against the mass, just about managing to grab a few boxes. “Nrrrghhh… huff… oh I can’t wait to be free from all this fat and junk, all of this mass has too much mass in the trunk.”

Using her free hand, she pushed down hard on her gut, trying to force it out of her way. At the same time, another, far louder belch rumbled out, her belly grumbling and blorping angrily. “What on earth is… Boooouuurrpppppp… going on here!” She exclaimed, practically jamming her hand in her mouth to block another raucous belch. Placing the garbage bag on the side, she noticed it took considerably less effort than before. She smiled, actually feeling the pounds melting away by the second. Her grin, however, slowly began to morph into a grimace. “Uuurrppp!!! Brruupphh!! Merciful Creator, was what I put in that brew some sort of traitor?” Indeed, she could still feel the weight dropping off her fairly rapidly. And yet, she didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. Managing to peek past her pendulous boobs, she watched in muted horror as her belly appeared to be swelling out wider.

Rather than the heaviness that pulled on her, instead, she found everything to be far floatier, for lack of a better word. The many creases, folds, and rolls that prevailed across her obese body began to disappear, developing into smooth, uniform curves. In fact, her oversized anatomy no longer seemed to sag like a water balloon, but rather appeared to act like one filled with air, pushing out and rising upwards. Another bout of gas, she watched as her belly pressed out even further, bouncing back and forth like some sort of.... “...Blimp! It makes sense why I was so…. Uuurrraappp… gassy before now. All this air has come from the fat in my rump, which is making me... buuurrppp… big and round as if from a pump!” Waddling back, she could feel her legs being pushed further and further apart. Her thighs swelled further and further out as the strange gas flooded into every part of her anatomy.

‘Fwump!’ Zecora flinched, looking towards her hands. The formerly pump digits had been replaced with puffy ones, the inherent tautness they possessed making it impossible to bend them beyond a few degrees without them springing back. Clumsily pivoting, the weight from before had mostly vanished, the inherent buoyancy of the gas in her system counteracting it. Staggering into the main room of her house, she was stopped in her tracks for a few moments. Given her neck’s lack of flexibility and the general distractions offered by the rest of her ballooning form, she hadn’t paid too much mind to her rear quarters. Her stripy butt had inflated so large that both cheeks were pressing into either side of the doorframe, wedging her in tight.

“Nnnrrgghh… uurppp… Please let me free, from my house I must flee!” Using all her might, she set about pushing and pulling her ass through, her face bright red as her flanks squeaked and groaned like rubber, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her form with each grope to those colossal mounds. She struggled on and on, freeing more and more of her oversized booty, the process becoming all the more difficult as she was worn down, and her butt grew larder. Letting loose a scream mixed with a smattering of belch, a loud ‘pop!’ issued, and she herself pulled free. Being held in place by the frame, she’d been blinded to how light she’d become, the long bouncing hops she took reminding her of footage she’d seen of ponies on the moon.

Her belly pushed out further and further, looking more and more like an oversized beachball, consuming her body as the gas searched out more and more space to fill and inflate. Her face became a new target, her numerous chins replaced by a pair of tennis ball-sized cheeks that pressed further into her peripheral vision. Her neck looked like a miniature inner tube, rising further up as her head was sucked down. Her head could no longer turn, leaving her unable to see anything other than her continually bloating cheeks. The only thing she could perceive was the electric jolts of pleasure that arched along her body, feeling how her overinflated skin rubbed and squeaked, deepening her already rosy cheeks that shade darker. Wider and wider, her body groaned, grumbled, and squeaked as Zecora felt her limbs pull inwards. The pressure exerted upon them was growing so intense, she couldn’t them at all. Teetering on her feet, and with her clothes stretched to their absolute limits, she winced as she watched her arms begin to suck into her torso, forced outwards at her sides. The zebra’s fore and upper arms had become little more than a stack of concentric shapes, her fingers wiggling as they began to be absorbed into her greater bulk.

After a few more moments of growth, the zebra turned inflatable began to rise up. Try as she might, her legs just couldn’t touch the ground, the motion doing little but causing her to spin around, facing towards the floor as she rose higher and higher. “I am far beyond the size when I was plump and fat, there must be some secret under its hat. When I tried before, I was gassy for a few moments more.” She gasped, interrupted shortly after by more burps. “Then that is why I’m so big! Comparing the gas to fat is like comparing a branch to a twig. The gas is far lighter… which is why my body is getting… mmppphhh… far bigger and tighter.” She groaned, feeling her thoroughly tortured clothes continue to cling on, digging fiercely into her swollen form.

“To be rid of this… gas, I must be frank and crass. I must belch until this is all gone…” She whimpered, with what felt like the umpteenth bout of gas she had to release. Suddenly, she felt something press against her back and ass. She bounced several times, her jumbo breasts gyrating from the impact. Finally, everything was still, and Zecora could grasp the sheer oddity of her current position. There was nothing that could quite describe the thoroughly distended and massively overinflated zebra, hanging like a bat from the ceiling above.

No longer resembling a living creature, she’d morphed into an uneven sphere of white and black, some 10 feet in diameter. The only thing discerning her from one of Pinkies novelty balloons was the very few parts of her anatomy still present. Chief amongst them being her breasts, with each boobie far, far exceeding traditional cup sizes, and only kept in check by an obscenely stretched top. Her legs and arms had devolved into puffy doughnut-like shapes, with a passing resemblance to a stack of tyres or rubber rings. Obscured by her considerable belly, the edges of her butt cheeks could be seen, each mound as large as a medicine ball. Her spiral cutie marks had been stretched out wide to accommodate their new canvases, with each being bigger than a colt. Between these mountains of plot, her tail flagged back and forth, partially trapped between the chasm booty it found itself in.

Sitting at the top of the comically proportioned equine, was her head. Only partially absorbed into the sphere of her body, her chipmunk-Esque cheeks puffed out wide, expanding and deflating slightly as she released belch after belch and moan. Finally, it seemed as though the expansion had stopped, the only creaks and groans being when she let loose a particularly powerful burp that sent her bouncing. From her unusual vantage point, she glowered down upon the potion below her, still gently bubbling away innocently inside the cauldron. “To think I was having such a nice a quiet day yesterday, now I much deflate and bounce about, for how long, I can’t say. But one thing I know for sure, testing brews is an idea so very poor, problems like these I will most certainty cure, if I keep myself from doing this sort of nonsense forevermore.”

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