> The Mirror Chamber
>  by Learn for Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Inspections Upon Indulgences
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	At each of her boutiques, Rarity had set up a private chamber. In Ponyville, this was in her room; here, in her Canterlot boutique, it was in her supply room. From the outside, it looked like a normal dressing room, one only slightly larger than normal, that was built into the wall. Step inside, and you would see that it there was room to walk around in a circle and check yourself out. This is what Rarity did before she went out on any grand occasion.
                The chamber walls were nothing but mirrors, and they showed the front, sides, and back of Rarity once she had sealed herself away. There were lights built into the bottom of the chamber instead of the ceiling, so she could get an aerial view from the mirror that acted as the ceiling; she needed an idea of how pegasi would be able to see her from above, and the only reason she hadn’t made the floor a mirror as well was because she had no… deep concern about how a diamond dog would see her from below.
                This was where she touched up the small flaws she found. A hair from her mane out of place, a knot in her tail, a rough patch of fur, a coarse spot in her horn, a wrinkle in her dress, nor a loose thread in her scarf would not escape her here. She scrutinized every angle of herself once she was in here, just so she could make corrections and walk outside perfectly.
                Today, however, was different. She stared at herself from all angles in shock. In this chamber, she could do anything she wanted to. Anything, that is, except lie about herself. All of the mirrors had been put there to give her an honest look at herself, and even when she didn’t want to admit that something wasn’t right, she had to see it for herself. There was no way that she could tell herself that she had a chip on her hoof when thirteen mirrors were there to show her the offending chip. She couldn’t deny when she had bags under her eyes, for baggy eyes would stare right back at her when she entered this place. None of these were present here; what had shocked her was larger than that.
                It, very simply, was her.
                A minute change, but one that was nonetheless noticeable to her, and would most definitely be noticeable to the Canterlot elite. She had always maintained a svelte, socially-acceptable body, but that wasn’t around her. Her underside no longer curved upward with feminine grace; instead it curved downwards just a bit, producing a minute bulge. Her sides were no longer slender and graceful; instead they bulged outwards to resemble a working pony’s sides. Her neck and breast were still sleek, but they were definitely thicker than before. Her flanks were slightly rounder, and her rump jutted out just slightly more, although her backside was the most noticeable change. It was even more so than her face, which was slightly more padded.
                She breathed slowly and heavily, trying not to panic, and not wanting to shake her body enough to see it jiggle with fat. From every angle, she tried to see it differently, but to no avail. After a moment of flicking from mirror to mirror, her mind began talking.
                What are you so worked up over, Rarity? It’s not that bad, darling. It’s certainly a little more than the Canterlot nobility would tolerate, right? As she thought of this, she remembered how many of the other mares and stallions she’d seen with extra pounds, more than her own body carried at the moment. I’m just becoming acclimated to the Canterlot diet. That’s all!
                But she knew that wasn’t the case, and the soft fragrance of chocolate from the donuts, that came from the local donut shop reminded her of her eating habits. In summary, she dined out sumptuously with her nobler friends, and ordered large meals at the smaller, homelier establishments. She snacked when she worked, and allowed herself some ice cream before going to bed. In Ponyville, she got around so much, and had far less to eat, that she kept fit. Being a Ponyville-raised mare, she’d found the homely food and work ethic agreed with her body, keeping it trim and limber. Now, with the richer, more decadent and more plentiful food, it was evident that her normal routine wouldn’t be enough to burn off the calories.
                 But that’s alright. And that was what puzzled her.
                Wait. Shouldn’t I be mortified? Shouldn’t I vow off all of the dining out, the sweets, the ice cream? Vow to take myself to the gym in the dead of night, or hide myself away so nopony will notice? Why am I treating this like it wasn’t that big a deal? In fact, where did that smile come from? I can’t be enjoying this, can I?
                A hoof came up and ran along her contours. First with a few pats of the face, to see if her cheeks would shake and dimple—they would. Then she ran it along her neck, feeling the new thickness of it. Her breast came next, it not being so soft to be called “fat,” but enough to feel soft to the touch. Then she ran it to her underside, pressing and poking her belly and feeling the slightest give. She moved to her flanks, rubbing her cutie mark and feeling the extra padding.
                She shuddered.
                She couldn’t reach far enough to feel her rump, so she gave it a shake. It didn’t jiggle like a normal fat pony’s would, but it did quiver. She giggled, and immediately threw her hooves to her muzzle. It was a new experience, and an exhilarating one at that. She shook it some more, first quickly to see how much she could make it wobble around, and then slowly to feel each larger cheek move with a new momentum.
                After a moment of watching the hypnotic display, she stopped, and stared at herself with a large grin. This might not be so bad after all. All of the indulgence she had gone through hadn’t amounted to anything tragic yet, and the Canterlot elite had been oblivious to it—or at least hadn’t spoken up. At that moment, she wondered how much more weight she could gain before they would stop being polite or oblivious and just say something.
                The thought gripped her: eating luxuriously and sumptuously throughout the day, walking among the Canterlot nobility, with only her being the knowing party of her increasing weight--or at least with nopony acknowledging it. The thought titillated her like no other that week. Doing something so naughty with such a consequence made her heartbeat race.
        And even if somepony calls me out on it, and tells me I’m not good enough for them… She looked at herself slyly. At least I’ll know who my real friends are, and who’re just there to tolerate me.
                At that moment, she had decided to go along with her experiment. See how long she could get away with it, that seemed simple enough. As a plan formed in her mind, she thought that even if she did gain a ridiculous amount of weight—something she didn’t see herself doing—she wouldn’t be outright dismissed. She was too popular a mare to be lost so easily, over a simple weight issue.
                With a nod to herself, she opened her mirror chamber and levitated out a dress. It was a simple red thing she often wore in Canterlot. She slowly slipped it over herself, careful to take in her new dimensions. There wasn’t that drastic a difference, but with her body simply being sinfully new, Rarity may as well have been awakening her nerves for the first time, with how much pleasure she gained from it.
                The dress hung almost exactly as it did before, and the collar wasn’t yet suffocating. A look at her dresser mirror showed the back rising up above her hooves, an inch difference. That was well enough; best to keep the charade on as long as she could.
                 Her stomach growled. She cooed in surprise, and then grabbed her purse and left her room. As she left her shop, there was by chance a group of the elite just waiting outside. She bowed to them and went on her way, only to be enthusiastically joined by them. They all talked about where to go for dinner, and Rarity silently followed them. They had no idea how starving she was.


                “My my,” she said aloud. “You’ve been a naughty mare, Rarity.”
                The dress had come off with some struggle, but eventually she was able to get it past her neck, laying it on the bed. With that ordeal out of the way, she had a chance to glance over her new body. This was a ritual she had performed weekly; at first it was daily, but with how little she was changing impatience had soon gripped her, and so she had resolved to check less frequently. It was better this way. She wanted the agony of waiting in anticipation, of wondering whether she would get away with fattening herself in front of the Canterlot elite—and if she were even fattening herself properly at all.
                With her current view in the mirror, the answer was a definite yes.
                Her neck was no longer lean; instead, there were bulges in a few places that sagged down with gravity. Her cheeks now curved outwards, and produced the first dimples she had ever owned, albeit tiny ones. Her breast continued to crest and round outwards. Her sides continued to widen, and there was a small crease in the middle, close to being a roll, but not quite succeeding. Her belly was now a paunch, unnoticeable in a dress, but hanging like a bowl of Jell-O. Her flanks still didn’t have a sag to them yet, for they were filling rapidly with fat. Her rump now produced a jiggle when she walked, not yet large enough to split her dress, but quickly approaching that. Whenever she walked, she could feel her thighs lightly brushing against one another.
                That had been a surprise at first, and it had taken her a lot of willpower not to moan in the middle of a grand ball she had been attending.
                She continued to gaze and admire herself in the mirror, wondering how she had ballooned upwards so quickly. Her hooves ran all over her body, both in her natural stance and on her hindlegs, as she thought of how much she had been consuming. She would lift her new paunch and drop it, watching it plop down and bounce against her thighs. She hiked her tail to get an unobstructed view of her booty, letting it shake and sway behind her. She smiled, watching her face change, and coming to the conclusion that she didn’t look any less beautiful. Everything was still right about her.
                There was simply more of her.
                She patted her belly, feeling her hoof sink into the flesh. It was then that she realized that she hadn’t actually been eating more drastically; she had still been eating her regular amount. She had come to the conclusion, then, that it had been because of all of the snacking she had been doing. She opened one door of her chamber and looked out next to her bed. Boxes of chocolates and donuts were stacked—neatly, darnit!—on top of themselves. She chuckled, thinking that all of that was now on her.
        She also thought of how her portions with her Canterlot friends had increased. Whenever she was out, she would usually order a salad for a side, and then the main course, abstaining from everything else. Now, she ordered something else as a side, along with her salad. She would get a large main course, one that was both decadent and high in calories. She would get a dessert afterwards, and nopony would chastise her for her extravagance. One or two had mentioned their approval at her culinary sampling, but that was where the mentions had ended.
        Were they seeing anything at all? She thought that they must have; they couldn’t be so oblivious as to not notice her pack her pies into her, or struggle with the main course. They must’ve seen her waddle out with a distended belly and a larger rump. Was there anything to see at all?
                Plopped down, she drew one of her heavier forelegs up to her stomach and began stroking it. The paunch shifted with her touches, not yet completely malleable, but just enough to shift with her hoof. She would move her hoof down to her flank, patting it to see it quiver and lightly slosh, before giving it a slap and feeling her blubber jiggle. She’d moan at how lewd she was being, before moving her hoof back up to her belly and rubbing and poking it.
                “You’re getting big, Rarity,” she told herself in a low, hypnotic voice. “You should really stop eating those sweets, or else you won’t be able to move from this bed!”
                She laughed; although she wasn’t done gaining, she knew she wouldn’t allow herself to reach those ridiculous proportions. Still, she thought about herself covering the entire bed, her sides rolling off and hanging, her backside pressing against the headboard, her face dangling at the foot, continuing to consume long after the need for it left. She lingered on that image for a whole minute.
                With a sigh that made her throat quiver, she took a box of chocolates in her magical grasp, threw the lid off of it, and began tossing two at a time into her mouth. Although not ladylike, she couldn’t deny that doubling her consumption and enjoyment gave her a feeling of superiority to her fellow Canterlotians. They were stuck only taking one measly candy into their muzzles and chewing away at it like it would break, while she, confident and elegant as she was, could enjoy the more explosive prospect of chewing two at the same time.
                A small indulgence, but one she would indulge in so long as she was in her room.
                As she ate, she pet her stomach, imagining how much the chocolates would stick to her figure. It probably wouldn’t be much, but every little bit count—this Rarity knew well, for every design she put on and omitted gave each dress she made that extra flair. So she ate and ate until the box was empty, and then rolled off of the bed to get a bucket of ice cream.
                At that moment, she was surprised that she wasn’t yet full. And at that moment, she decided not to care. The notion from earlier came back to her, and as her hoof nearly grabbed the cold carton, she had a better idea.



         She was now seated at a table in her mirror chamber, courtesy of one of the nearby restaurants. Hers was the only chair present; she wanted an unobstructed view of the mirrors as she dined. It wasn’t as scientifically set-up as Twilight would have it, but it would do for her purpose. She was in her red dress as well, to complete the ensemble.
There was little different about her posture, and she concluded that nopony would tell anything if they sat around her. It made her laugh, imagining hiding her paunch and gluttony out of their view! The chair didn’t bend at all, so there was no noise that betrayed her. Her growling stomach may’ve tipped some ponies off, but it wasn’t too different from a normal pony’s.
She didn’t know when, but eventually she smelled it. With a clap of her hooves, she opened her chamber up and stared at her sewing table. On it was a note that read “for Rarity.” There was also a silver tray and a bottle of red wine. She had requested that somepony leave it there and leave, with the promise that she would return it later on that day. 
She levitated it to herself, and then sealed herself within the chamber. With a deep breath, she pulled up the lid of the platter, and nodded in satisfaction. There was her salad, along with a basket of rolls and a bowl of steaming chowder. The largest thing was the plate of spaghetti, piled high with tomato sauce and parmesan cheese. Next to it was dessert: a normal-sized tiramisu (she didn’t want to go all out just yet). The proper silverware, as well as a glass cup, completed the set.
This experiment wouldn’t work if she went for the tiramisu as well; that would’ve gone out of order, and it wouldn’t give her a true view of what she’d been showing her fellow Canterlotians. So she removed the salad and soup from the platter, and put the tray on the rest. With a deep breath and a pat on her belly, she dug in.
The salad had been well-dressed, and the soup rich and creamy. She ate at a normal speed, not betraying anything out of the ordinary. She thought back to her nights out, and remembered that she was usually talkative during this time.
“So, Fleur, how’s the newest photoshoot?” she asked the chair to her right
It was awkward, and she immediately stopped that. She resumed eating, and finished the salad and soup with ease. There was no challenge yet, which perplexed her; even with the weight gained, she should’ve been at least full, right? She was getting there, but she wasn’t yet.
“Perhaps I’ll get through dessert after all.” She eyes the large platter, and wondered if her eyes were being bigger than her stomach. Then again, that was why she was here, wasn’t she?
No, she reminded herself. She was here to see what other ponies saw. She had ate normally, and there was no sign that she had glutted yet. So with a wipe with the napkin, she removed the heaping helping of spaghetti from the platter. The tiramisu was once again covered; she had to resist that temptation.
This was larger than she was used to, larger than she had ordered. She at first thought about leaving some, to keep the experiment untainted. But the restaurant owner had been insistent that he give her something special, and she didn’t want to refuse. He wasn’t here now, but it would be rude to turn him down.
Why are you deliberating about this? It’s just food. He won’t know if you don’t eat all of it, and he’d certainly understand, since it is a lot.
Her stomach growled.
I guess I’m still hungry. “Well, that’s different from when I’ve gone out eating. I must’ve stretched out my stomach a bit.” She looked back at the spaghetti, and smiled. “Oh well. At least I have a reason to continue eating.”
She was about to dig in, but then remembered her experiment. She looked up at the mirror across from her, and saw an almost-lustful stare at herself. Was this what other ponies saw of her? This savage desire to stuff herself? She didn’t look away.
Go on. Do it. You will eventually, right?
She stared at her yearning eyes, seeking the answer. The others may object, but then again, who were they to object to her enjoying herself?
She looked away and shook her head. “No. I, Rarity, eat with dignity and grace, and I will not make a beast out of myself… at least not in public.” She shuddered.
To compensate, she rolled up a ball of spaghetti on the fork. It was larger than she was used to, but the experiment was skewed with the increased hunger, right? That was what she had told herself. Anyway, the spaghetti was cooling, so with a final nod to herself, she put the first mouthful in.
“Oh my stars, this is delectable!” She took another ball and bite. “I must give the compliments to the chef.” Another forkful went in, just as gracefully as the others. A napkin dab was in order after that.
“I say, Miss Rarity, you seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“Quite! Look at how much she’s putting in her mouth at one time!”
Rarity nodded to them, feeling herself becoming fuller by the moment. They fell silent as she took bite after bite. The mirrors that weren’t blocked by the tablecloth showed her belly rounding outwards, becoming a dome under the assault of the sumptuous meal.
After a laborious ten minutes, the spaghetti was gone. She neatly stacked the plate with the others, and then drew out the last course. The tiramisu was just a bit larger than what the chef normally served—she vaguely wondered why—and it looked so thick, and gooey. She patted her belly.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to do this,” she muttered, feeling how taut she was. “But I suppose I did want to see what others saw when I ate outlandishly, and the tiramisu would be a terrible thing to waste.”
With a shallow breath, she picked up her dessert fork and took a morsel. With a few breaths for preparation, she put it into her mouth. The flavors exploded, and she moaned as soon as they hit her tastebuds.
“This is simply divine!” She took another bite, forgetting how full she had been. The experiment was now lost as she took large bite after large bite, trying to savor it yet swallowing too quickly, leaving her with the desire for more.
The voices faintly spoke up about her behavior.
“My oh my, she just won’t stop, will she?”
“She’s going to break that chair!”
“Somepony woke up the little glutton in her!”
        She was halfway through, and didn’t stop. Her belly began to ache as it pressed into the table. And yet she didn’t stop. The tiramisu was just heavenly, and she wanted to polish it off.
There were three bites left, and her fork suddenly fell. She immediately knew just how stuffed she was; she cradled her belly in an attempt to soothe it. The chair creaked under her, threatening to buckle.
“Go on.”
“You can do it!”
“We believe in you.”
“I’m… so… full…” Rarity hiccupped.
“Just a few more bites.”
“You know you want to.”
She looked at herself in the mirrors; she looked ten months pregnant! “I really don’t think I can—”
“We know you can.”
“You know you can.”
“Just eat.”
“Eat.”
“Eat.”
Rarity closed her eyes, her belly struggling to contain it all. She smelled the sweet tiramisu under her nostrils. It stilled smelled heavenly… and it would be a waste, even after she came so far.
She felt around for her fork, and once she found it she pierced it into the mass. She didn’t bother to chop it up; if she wanted it gone, she was going to do it in one go. With as deep a breath as she could muster, she jammed it into her mouth.
“There we go!”
“Eat up.”
She felt like a glutton, and yet she didn’t want to stop. She chewed laboriously, and the flavor lingered. With a few more hiccups, she swallowed it.
It felt like her belly was inflating to twice its size. The chair under her groaned, and yet it wouldn’t break. As it settled, and her belly took its time digesting it, she let her head rest on the table.
“I made quite a pig out of myself,” she moaned. “But I did it. I won’t be surprised if I blow up over the next few days, if I keep eating like that.


The mirrors in her Ponyville chamber reflected an astounded Rarity, from the front, the sides, the back, and even from above. The only thing Rarity couldn’t take in was the bottom of her hooves; every other angle of her was visible in her private closet. This was where she spent time reflecting on all of the minute details of her figure, as well as an overview of her entire body. It always gave her an idea of how life had treated her lately, for it was of utmost importance that she maintain her beautiful figure. It was also used when she needed an overview of how her dresses fit her. It was her own private domicile. Here, she could do anything she wanted.
                Everything, that is, except comprehend her friends. First, before leaving for Ponyville, one of the noble ponies who had taking the largest fancy to her had finally said something about Rarity’s weight. Earlier in that week, Rarity had decided that if a pony commented that they were worried about her health, she would know that that pony was a true friend. If they made an insult, she’d know that pony wasn’t one to be trusted. So when this pony looked her up and down, and with a smile comment,
                “You’re looking a lot healthier, Rarity.”
                She didn’t know how to react. The mare had actually given her a compliment! And gushed about how the Canterlot cuisine had stuck to her figure so beautifully, even with her dress on. And as Rarity gazed at herself from every angle in the mirror, she couldn’t deny that her breast and flanks flared out to the point where her dress showed off their contours.
                “I suppose I should take this off,” she muttered. “I don’t think it will hide anything for much longer, and this collar’s digging into my neck!”
                With a huff and a few grunts, she wriggled the dress over her head and tossed it out of her mirror chamber. She closed the door and proceeded to look at the damage—or, as she was now beginning to look at it, health.
                Gone was the simple paunch that she had; what now hung that was a fully-fledged belly, pressing into her thighs and hanging nearly halfway to her knees. Her hips had a deep roll at the top, and bulged enough to give her love handles. They didn’t flare out as much as her flanks did, and they were brimming with fat, enough to give them a slight sag. Her thighs had thickened enough to touch as she walked, and even when she stood. Her rump began to get a crease in each cheek, and each cheek jutted out over a foot further than they did at the beginning of this experiment. Her back had begun to pile on rolls; there were two, one in her middle, and the other at her withers.
                Her forelegs had thickened as well, making her knees begin to bunch up with the effort to contain the extra mass. Her breast had ballooned outward as well, as did her neck, which wobbled whenever she moved. Her face now had dimples, each cheek swelling outward and softly pressing up on her eyelids. A double chin had budded in full force.
                She stared at each angle for long moments, merely appreciating how her body moved, how it heaved even more outward every time she breathed. Everything else about her—her coat, her mane, her tail and her hooves—had still been expertly maintained, so all that was there to admire anew was her new dimensions.
                And as her belly swelled and lightly forced her thighs apart, she admired it.
        The second instance made her more confused. She had returned to her home town a week ago, and at first there were small mentions of her new body. Pinkie Pie had immediately began to poke and prod her, saying she looked nice with a few extra pounds. Rainbow Dash had simply watched her walk, bemused yet not saying anything. Twilight had pried into how she had gained so much weight, and Rarity had told her that it was just stress eating—something Twilight didn’t seem to buy entirely. Fluttershy had restrained herself until Rarity brought it up, and then she mentioned how soft she looked. Rarity knew she could count on her friends to not insult her.
        The oddest reaction came from Applejack. At first, the farm pony had simply mentioned her weight, and then went right back to work. That was in the afternoon. Later on that evening, the seven girls and Spike had gone out to dinner at their local restaurant. This was Rarity’s time to show everypony how much she could eat.
        And eat she did. She had ordered a salad and side—bread rolls, this time—and had devoured both by the time her main course had arrived. It was a submarine sandwich with the typical vegetables, stacked with cheeses and drizzled with dressing. She ate this with large bites, yet not savage ones like she had been starving; she was a lady, after all, and maintained that composure was paramount to her.
        So she ate and ate, looking up to see her friends staring at her. Four of them had watched her with shock; Applejack, meanwhile watched placidly, eating her own sandwich without betraying emotion. This continued as she swallowed the last morsel, lightly rubbing her distended belly.
        The waitress had came over to their table, and asked them if they wanted dessert. They all said no, and then looked at Rarity.
        “What?” Rarity had insisted that she didn’t need dessert. To their surprise, Applejack ordered two slices of cheesecake. Pinkie Pie had also ordered a bowl of vanilla ice cream.
        “Hungry tonight, aren’t we all?” Twilight had asked them.
        There was a silence, and then Applejack had suggested the other three ponies pay their tabs and leave, and they would catch up with them. Twilight had raised a brow, but Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were too stuffed to refuse, so the three of them left. Rarity began to leave, but Applejack had stopped her.
        “Why don’t you stay here?” she had asked. “Let your tummy settle.”
        Rarity had begrudgingly accepted. The desserts came, and Rarity eyed  them suspiciously. Neither Applejack nor Pinkie Pie had taken a bite.
        “On second thought,” Applejack had begun, pushing the treat towards Rarity. “I think I’m full. Why don’t you have it?” After a moment, Pinkie had also pushed her ice cream towards her.
        “Are you trying to fatten me up?” Rarity had said with half-surprise and half-feigned anger. “I’ll blow up like a big fat marshmallow if I eat this!”
        “But Ah like marshmallows.” Applejack stared at her, beckoning her to eat.
        Rarity had been stunned at the time, and with the two earth ponies staring at her, she couldn’t refuse. Or rather, she didn’t refuse. As she looked into the eyes of her feedee, she thought this was the start of… something. She didn’t know what.
                Rising to her hindlegs, she took her gut into her hooves, lifted it, and dropped it. It bounced like a ball, and then settled against her thighs. Titillated, she rubbed it like there was a foal inside of her, and with how big she was, there could’ve been! As she rubbed, she took the time to appreciate her other body parts: how her forelegs had dimples, and jiggled as she moved them about; how her chin folded and pressed out as she looked down; how her cheeks scrunched up and forced her smile even wider; how her hindlegs shook with the effort to support herself. She felt massive at that moment, even though she wouldn’t have been considered obese.
                She even took note of how her rump hung below her. As large as it was, she couldn’t resist the urge to drop down on her fours and shake it about. It now jiggled, rather than merely quivered. Her cheeks each slapped together, an entirely new sensation to her. She moaned with each slap, and with how the inside just brushed against her more sensitive parts. Her thighs had a lot more momentum, and she giggled at how much they shook and how much more effort she had to put in to move them.
        She did this for a whole minute, and then she strutted about proudly. At first she did it with her eyes closed, to feel how her body moved. Her thighs continued brushing against one another, while her cheeks, though not slapping, rubbed against one another. Her breast jiggled side to side as she strutted, and her belly wobbled gleefully under her.
                After that, she opened her eyes to see what was happening. Her entire body was shaking with fat, not enough to make it constantly jiggle, but enough to replace her taut movements a few dozen pounds ago. Her belly bobbed up and down as she strutted, and her rump and flanks jiggled just a bit as she walked. With her confident smile, her cheeks dimpled.
                The procession happened for fifteen minutes, in which she took in every detail of her body from every angle the mirrors would allow her. But soon she began to tire. “I guess it’s time for me to turn in,” she said, patting her belly. “After all, we’ve been working so hard, and I’ll need all the rest—and breakfast—I can get!” She hummed as she stepped out of her mirror chamber and closed the door behind her.
                Showering with newer dimensions was a more involved experience. Her skin was more malleable as the scrubber passed over her body. The water running down her lingered longer, soothing her with their heat for a longer period of time. She thought it odd how her flank would brush up against the curtain, but that was a small gripe; or maybe it was just feedback, like a dress trying to contain her behind. When she got out, drying herself took more maneuvering than she was used to, the towel going in between her rolls and around her larger figure.
                After that, and taking care of the rest of her hygienics, she strolled to her bed. Lying down took some compromises. She tried her usual shimmy into her covers, but the blanket bunched up at the bottom of her gut. With a sigh, she lifted the covers up and completed her shimmying. The blanket descended, showing her belly and thighs prominently.
                Rarity sighed in contentment. Besides the extra work to take care of herself, perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all.


                There was no more denying it: she was fat. Her belly now hung to her knees, her flanks had flared out a foot each, her rump began to fold and sag, her breast began to droop, and her double chin was now prominent. No matter which of her dresses she wore, or modified, there was no hiding how much weight she had put on. She was in her mirror chamber again, stunned as to how big she had become. The experiment was getting out of hand, she needed to stop before she became too big to move.
                With that worry came the thoughts of her recent diet. Gone was the highly-selective high-calorie dishes that she ate one at a time; now whenever she went out to eat, she took large portions, ordering two or three dishes at a time. At the donut shop, she ordered two dozen at a time, one for the morning and one for the evening—and would have to go back for a dozen more after the first two were devoured. She still walked around and attended events with her colleagues, but exercising was out of the question. It seemed as though all she did was eat, work, eat, socialize, and eat.
                She moved from side to side, watching her body shake and slosh. She was now beyond well-fed, and had moved into gluttonous territory.
                And the oddest thing about that was that nopony had chided her for it. In fact, all of the comments she had received were compliments.
                “Wow, Rarity, you are looking nice!”
                “I wish I could eat without abandon. That all looks so good.”
                “Would you be my date for the upcoming ball?”
                “Would you attend a spa date with us?”
                “Would you kindly…”
                “Oh, do please attend!”
                What was even more unexpected was the offers of food.
                “You must tell us your opinion about this restaurant. I hear it’s the latest craze in Maneican food.”
                “Please come and try my baking.”
                “We think that you would be an excellent source of income for our filly scouts and their cookies.”
                As well as from chefs and bakers.
                “Please try our food! Somepony with your grace and girth must know their cuisine!”
                “Please have another dozen! You’re doing us a favor by taking them.”
                “You can’t have too many cookies.”
                The most confusing comments came from her closest Canterlot allies, Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lys.
                “I say, Rarity,” Fancy Pants had said, his face momentarily going red. “You’re looking quite plump.”
                “Doesn’t it suit her?” Fleur added with a playful prod of her belly. “She looks stunning.”
                “Yes, marvelous! I’m so glad you’re living a healthy and bountiful life. You’re simply gorgeous.”
                That had earned him some odd looks, from both ponies. Rarity had left before the feuding had begun, and now she was back here, thinking about it all.
                Even after gaining over two hundred pounds, everypony found her beautiful. She mused as to why this was so. One consideration that came into her mind was that her body had changed, but her grace and elegance and eloquence hadn’t. She still provided wit, inspection and humble insight to her friends, and helped them out with whatever they needed. That could’ve been a part of it.
                Another thought that fleeted through her mind was that she was living a bountiful life, and everypony secretly wanted that. They wanted to be able to indulge themselves, to explore multiple types of cuisine, and let themselves get lost in it like she had. Perhaps she was fulfilling a secret lifestyle that they wanted.                
A third possibility was that  stallions and mares here simply liked larger ponies. She shook that off immediately, though. Though ponies in the food business most certainly liked larger ponies, she didn’t think that normal stallions would be smitten with her; nor did she think that a normal Canterlot mare would envy such an… abnormal figure.
Even her friends had been eager to compliment her. Though Twilight expressed concern over her health, she found her new proportions fitting for her role in Canterlot—a statement Rarity didn’t understand, but it had been taken as a compliment, so no offense was taken. Rainbow Dash had jokingly bounced on her a few times, much to Rarity’s ire, and yet said that her new fat was actually cool. Fluttershy had begun massaging her friend more, at times lying on top of her and resting before continuing; Rarity, knowing how sensitive Fluttershy was and feeling sensitive with her on top, didn’t complain. Pinkie had given her discounts on all of her treats, and loaded her up whenever she was in Ponyville. 
Her family had also taken an active role in her feeding. Sweetie Belle had found out about her new weight when she came over to spend the night, and was awestruck. She had asked so many questions about why and how and when and where, and with what. Rarity had answered as evasive as possible, and Sweetie hadn’t caught on. She had provided the playful taunting, something Rarity half-ignored and half took to heart with a sense of pride. Her father didn’t object, and her mother, being a baker by trade, had given her more cookies than she could eat. They’d be gone by the next day, so she was grateful for that.
Applejack had been the most supportive, though she never let anypony else in on the secret. Applejack, being the early-bird that she was, would come to her door every morning and give her a pre-breakfast breakfast and what became known as Applesnacks, so she could digest some extra calories onto her frame. Then she’d begin rubbing and kneading her while she was mostly asleep. The one time she had caught her friend doing this, she didn’t object—not so long as she had kept the food coming. And as Applejack had found her tummy’s Soft Spot, they shared their first kiss.
                That transferred to another thought; perhaps her gluttony was touching into a part of ponies that they had always wanted to keep hidden, and she was bringing it out: the side that wanted to just glut away mindlessly, chewing and swallowing without a care of work or their figure. These sorts of ponies wouldn’t know how hard she worked even with the extra weight, but she couldn’t blame them for—if—they had their fantasies.
                She stopped pondering and began rubbing her body with her hooves. Her neck wobbled as she patted it, and she felt the extra padding shift itself like a snake trying to settle. She pressed a hoof into her breast, surprised at how much give there was before she felt her heartbeat. Then she drifted down to her belly, and she found that she could only barely brush against her bellybutton, and that was only because it had popped outwards. The rest of her cannon was surrounded by the blubbery flesh of the rest of her underside.
                She rose onto her hinds, and grunted at how much harder it was. She actually lost balance, because her belly dragged her downwards. Not even her massive rump could keep her anchored back. She tried again, straining at the exertion until she found her balance. Once she was righted, she slapped her belly softly with both hooves, feeling it bounce and quiver under them. She reached down as far as she could, picked up as much of her belly as she could—she couldn’t even reach the bottom of it—and dropped it. She poked her new bellybutton, and gasped at the new sensation of it sticking out. She ran her hooves on the outside, pleasantly surprised at how wide she had to spread them to get around it. It made her feel gigantic, even though she knew she wasn’t there yet. 
                She fell back down and reached a hoof back to her flanks. She could only touch the frontmost bit of it, for her wide sides got in the way. She hummed in frustration, before coming up with another idea. She approached one of the mirrors backwards, marveling at how large her backside appeared, and how much it jiggled. With a small step, as to not ruin or smash her mirror, she pressed her rump against the cool glass.
                She cooed at how squishy the sensation was, how much give there was, how wider her rump got as the flesh pooled outward from the pressure. With her magic, she moved the other mirrors right to the left and right of her flanks, so they would squish. She adjusted them to not squeeze her backside, but merely to press against it.
                It gave her a marvelous breadth of size. She wiggled herself around, feeling her blubbery butt smoosh and squeeze as it shifted itself around. She squeezed the mirrors tighter, holding herself in place. She trembled at how much force it took to hold it in place. She wiggled her hips, and felt her backside wobble and shake in place. After a moment’s admiration, she unfolded the mirrors and stepped away.
                With pride, she stomped around the chamber. Her legs had begun to ache, but she strutted as much as she could regardless. Every step with her right hindleg threatened to smash her flank into the mirror, and every step with her left made it reach out for the middle of her chamber. Every step caused her belly to bounce, jiggle, and quiver. It was beyond well-fed, and went on to uncontrollably large. Her breast bounced left and right, and her neck wouldn’t stop moving. She moved her head side-to-side, just to feel her double chin jiggle like the rest of her.
                After a moment’s admiration, she went the other way, and admired her left side. It was just as glorious as her right side. Maybe it was bigger, Rarity though. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. It surprised her that she still wanted to gain more, even after witnessing the downright fat mare she had become.
                But from everypony’s reactions, and how much she loved it, she thought less of stopping, even less of losing the weight.
                Her thoughts drifted back to the gluttony she had experienced throughout the weeks. It hasn’t really been just me scarfing down food day and night, she told herself honestly. I’ve just been eating larger portions of foods I like and are high in calories, and snacking more commonly. I wonder what it would actually be like, to just glut myself until I can’t move.
                She stared at herself and her belly, continuing to wonder. To wolf down donuts by the dozen, to scarf down spaghetti and lasagna, to indulge in cakes and pies until she almost burst. The thought scared her. It thrilled her.
                She opened her mirror chamber and lugged herself out. Breathing heavily, half in anticipation and half with the effort of moving, she set out to one of the many food shops in Canterlot—she hadn’t decided which when she left her boutique.
        By the time she had came back, she had visited only one place. Now lying on her couch, she looked at the jars of whipped cream, all laid out in front of her. She didn’t know how much she was going to consume in one sitting, but when the baker express delight that she would choose her shop above all others to get her business, she had been saddled with twenty jars filled with the finest cold cream that could be procured there. And now that she was alone, and out of the stares, gawks and compliments of Canterlotians and tourists alike, she had closed her boutique and lay herself onto the couch. It groaned under her weight, and she didn’t know how much more of her it could take.
                She made a mental note to find out.
                The scene had been set up in her mirror chamber once again, so she could see herself doing this sinful deed. Stretched out, her belly partially rolling off, she raised up one jar of cream with her magic and brought it to her. She had water nearby as well, in case it was either too thick, too sweet, or unpleasant. With a shaky breath and a small pat of her belly, she tilted it up to her muzzle and let it touch her lips.
                It was neither too thick, nor too sugary, nor unpleasant. In fact, it was like frothy ambrosia. She gulped it down at first, and as she nearly choked on it, she slowed down. The cream went down her throat smoothly, though it wasn’t runny. A little bit of the cream dabbed onto her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. She just wanted more.
                She tried imagining what other ponies would see if they saw her now. A large pony, tranquilly gulping down a gallon, and then two gallons of whipped cream. Her flanks rising high, her belly hanging peacefully, waiting to be filled, her cheeks dimpling with the effort of catching as much as possible. Her tail flicked in anticipation.
                She finished one jug, set it down, and patted her belly. She felt filled, but not yet full. The mirror showed no difference. So she grabbed another one and repeated the process.
                Halfway through this jug, she felt herself becoming full. Drinking even more, she felt bloated. That was fine, as it was a feeling she had been accustomed to. She had to test herself, see what it felt like to become a gluttonous eating machine that did nothing but consume.
                She let her tail go limp, her legs dangle, her body sink more into the couch, making herself as vegetative as possible; she wanted to literally do nothing but consume. She took a deep breath through her nostrils and drank.
                And drank.
                And drank.
                And drank some more.
                Her stomach felt tight, and yet she knew she wasn’t stuffed to the breaking point. She set the second jug down, taking a moment to lick up the whipped cream on her cheeks. The third jug came up, and she began the process again.
                Two-thirds of the way through this one, her stomach began to ache. She looked down, and saw her large, flabby belly begin to round out; the mirrors showed her this as well. She poked it, feeling it sink less than it had a moment ago. She knew she was filling up nicely, but wasn’t at her stopping point. So she drank onwards.
        The mirrors showed two movements: that of her neck as she gulped down load after load of cream, and that of her belly as it inflated. She imagined other ponies being shocked at her display; whereas outside, she had kept her grace and cheerfulness, here she was nothing but a consumer. Would they be disgusted? Would they be encouraging? Would they be aroused? She didn’t know, and her thoughts were taking her in many different directions, so she cleared her mind and continued.
                The fourth jug came up, and her belly rounded out even more. The expanding dome pushed up against her thighs, causing her flanks to appear like they were growing as well. She could imagine some stallion gawking at her, becoming excited at how much she was growing. Her belly itself stopped hung over the sofa end, and rose up to accommodate the ever-expanding stomach. What was more amazing about her rising body was that her couch was ever-so-slowly bending and lowering.
                Each gulp was laborious, but she pushed herself. She didn’t yet feel sick, she just felt gloriously full. And yet she drank onwards.
                The fifth jug came up, and her belly began to hurt. She stopped, wondering whether this was her breaking point. She hiccupped.
                “Just a few more gulps,” she said. “I need to at least see if I can get past this.”
                One gulp, and her belly pushed outwards a few more centimeters.
                Another, and another few.
                Still more, and the sofa began to creak.
                Another one, and it creaked even more.
                She didn’t know when she was going to stop, watching her belly round out and expand, her flank pushed upwards. Each gulp made her stomach even more uncomfortable, but the spectacle was enough to entrance her, almost enough to make her ignore it.
                Another gulp, and her belly began to droop over the edge.
                Another, and her flank rose above the back of the couch.
                Another, and the couch groaned.
                Another, and her cheeks let the cream linger there, giving her time to savor it and how full she was, before swallowing it.
                Another, and her magic began to unfocus at how much effort she was using to contain all the whipped cream.
                Another, and her lips met air.
                She blinked, and turned her head. Sure enough, the fifth jug was now empty. With shaky magic, she set it down.
                “Ooooooooooooooh,” she groaned.
                Her belly throbbed with the effort of holding so much whipped cream. She could hear it gurgling, trying to digest all of it. With labored breaths, she turned herself carefully to lie on her back. Her belly rose to the top of the back of the sofa. Her flanks, squished under the gut, pressed up against the back and hung off of the side. Her vision waved.
                She hiccupped.
                “Excuse me,” she said with a dreary smile. “I should probably rest a bit before getting up. Dinner with Jet Set and Upper Crust is in a few hours.” She hiccupped at the thought of eating after this, and rubbed her belly. “Maybe being a mindless glutton just isn’t for me. But then again, this cream was delectable! Maybe I shouldn’t be a pig, but perhaps I can indulge myself with my own treats every now and again.”


                Another gulp, and her dress ripped at the flanks.
                Another, and the final button on her neck burst, tearing the dress down the middle, exposing her gargantuan belly.
                Another, and her couch could take no more. The legs broke, and with it she came crashing down with a powerful thud.
               The force caused the whipped cream she had been drinking to go over her muzzle, shoving her face into it. Rarity blew some out of her nostrils, and then set about to finishing the jug as she inspected the damage. Her body nearly covered the entire sofa, and rolled over the sides. Her backside was taller than the back of the sofa, and her flank and rump pressed over the top.
                “Oh dear,” she thought. “Perhaps I’ve taken this too far.”
                The jug was finished, and she pulled it off and set it with the other six. Jug number 8 came to her lips and she drank on and on. Her body trembled with the exertion of holding so much, but Rarity was excited. She had beaten her old record, and would simply crush it, just like she did the couch.
                Another two weeks of gorging herself on Canterlot food, on humble pony cuisine, and on whipped cream made her continue to grow, just as she had intended. None of her dresses would fit her, and she had to sew special garments for herself now. There was no way of hiding her weight, but ponies didn’t mind. They were shocked, but seemingly for all the right reasons, whatever those were.
                She slowly hoisted herself to her hooves, having to use a line of fabric that she makeshifted as a rope to hoist herself up. She hung there for a moment, suspended by the fabric, feeling like a cow that was being lifted and moves. She wiggled her hooves, feeling her fat forelegs wobbling.
        Then she lowered herself slowly. Not just because she felt nice up there, not because she didn’t want to break the fabric, but because she wanted as little time on her hooves as possible. Once they made contact, she braced her legs to handle the rest of her weight.
                Her knees buckled a bit, but she was able to handle her own body by now. Her stomach brushed against the broken couch, while her flank pushed over the back of it. She sighed. “It has served me well these past few years. But it was going to break eventually.”
                She turned and walked to her mirror chamber. Looking back to see if anypony was spying on her, she opened it up and slipped inside. She didn’t even bother to close it; she could see her flank and rump with the other mirrors around the doors. It was impossible to miss, anyway, unless she actually try and turn her log of a neck to see past her vast hips.
                And then the inspection began. 
It started with her cheeks. They hung low on her face, not exactly fat enough to be jowls—she wondered how that could be—but hanging nonetheless. They were brimming with fat, and every time she moved, they would quiver and wave. Still, they looked full, and every time she smiled, they dimpled and pressed against her eyelids heavily.
                Next was her neck, which had a few rolls on it. Her chins hung down, and her neck rolled down like the branches of a pine tree. Each roll was thicker as she worked her way lower, thanks to gravity. Anypony that had given her a hug had sunk and slid around on her fat, and ended up sliding sensuously—stallion or mare—to her shoulder, where they sunk into bliss.
                Her barrel came next. It puffed out proudly, curving outwards and to the sides. It had begun consuming her forelegs, which were in themselves large enough to drape over her knees. She couldn’t touch her forehooves together anymore, due to there being too much padding there.
                Next was her hips, which flared out just short of being as wide as a pony was from snout to tail. They sagged and had many different rolls.  They were bunched up against her belly, her rump and her back. Her back itself had plenty of rolls, almost more than she could count.
                She had to stand to get a proper view of her belly. As she stood on her hindlegs, it drooped and rested on the floor. She had to use one of the mirrors to push herself upright, and once she did she got a close-up view of her gut. It was ponderous, a soft mass that was currently taut—from her gorging earlier. When it was soft, it forced its way against her thighs and her knees, against her barrel and even against the floor at times. She could only waddle now, for strolling, galloping, and even walking were out of the question.
                Finally, she took in her backside. They were a sight to behold. These actually were wider than a pony snout-to-tail. Her cutie mark was stretched out larger than a pony’s head, and it could hold a filly on its outstretched skin alone. Her thighs were like tree trunks, constantly rubbing against one another and her stomach, doing their best to support her rump. Her cheeks folded over her hocks, and sagged downwards. Her tail had almost been consumed by her cheeks on numerous occasions.
                She took in every detail—the dimples, the folds, the sagging, the jiggling, the wobbling, and the weight of it all—in those mirrors. She was beyond obese, beyond anything Canterlot ponies were used to, and yet she was still Rarity. She hadn’t changed. She was still the discerning eye, the hard worker, the charitable mare, the quick wit. She still took care of her mane, tail, coat and make-up, even though each was now a more involved process. She hadn’t lost the admiration of Canterlot, she hoped, even though she was a whale.
                She was so entranced with herself, that she didn’t even notice that somepony was behind her.
                “Well, Rarity.”
                She gasped and looked in the mirror, for whipping around in surprise was beyond her mobility. She couldn’t see around herself, but after er mind calmed, she realized she recognized the voice. “Fancy Pants?”
                “You look ravishing.”                                                                                                   
                “When did you get in here?”
                “I had just knocked. You didn’t hear me?”
                “How’d you get in my private chambers?”
                “You hadn’t closed the door.”
                She looked to see that what he said was true. She chided herself. “Well, um, I see, that you now see, that I’ve gained a lot of weight.”
                “Yes,” he continued pleasantly. “And you look marvelous.”
                She blushed. “I-I know that!... Do I really look marvelous?”
                “Of course!” he walked forwards and took her by the hoof. “Everypony loves you, you know. Whether you’re svelte or sizable.”
                She giggled. “I suppose that’s true.”
                “In fact, they’d probably like to see you even larger.”
                She gawked. “What? But I’m already so big! How much larger can I get?”
                He shrugged. “You can never tell with ponies. They’re so… restrained.” He beckoned for her to follow. “Come, my dear. I’m hosting a dinner at my mansion, and I would like for you to attend.”
        “But what about my work?” She lifted her forelegs up. “I can barely move these as it is—”
“And yet you’re still producing fabulous work.” He pointed to her most recent dresses. “You’re still the shining seamstress as when I met you, even more revered since you set up your boutique here.”
“But what if I become too large? What if I can’t move?”         
He shrugged. “Stop before that, I suppose.”
“But what if I can’t?”
“What would stop you?”
She became frustrated. “Why wouldn’t I stop?”
“We’re asking ya the same thing, sugarcube.”
Rarity turned to see Applejack stride on in. “What are you doing here?”
She blushed. “Oh, I’m part of the entourage.”
“What entourage?”
“The one that’s gonna take ya to Fancy Pants’s fancy dinner!” She leaned in. “You are goin’, right? I know ya can’t resist.”
Rarity scoffed. “And what makes you say that, Applejack?”
“‘Cause ya haven’t given an outright ‘no,’ have ya sugarcube?”
Rarity paused. She hadn’t actually declined the idea of her becoming larger. “But the other ponies! If I say no, then they—”
“They’ll admire you regardless,” Fancy Pants butted in. “Whether you’re svelte or sumptuous. It’s just, well, everypony’s admired your input—literally and figuratively—on cuisine. They just want to return the favor. It’s not like we’re going to strap a Feedbag onto your face and force you to eat chocolate cake until you can’t move, and well beyond that! It’s just that the more you grow, the more everypony will know how smashing Canterlot cuisine is!”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand how fantastic Apple Family food is! That’ll stick to your gut!”
“Or my food!” Pinkie Pie appeared behind everypony.
“How’d you get here?”
And just like that, she disappeared.
“So what do you say, Rarity?” Fancy Pants said. “Shall we be making our way to dinner?”
“We have a carriage outside,” Applejack added eagerly. “We can take ya there lickety split.”
Rarity glanced between the two of them, and then, once she had gathered her thoughts, spoke. “I have yet to decide whether or not I wish to continue gaining weight. It may interfere with work and family, after all. But I will accompany you to dinner.”
“Splendid—”
“As long as you don’t try and force-feed me.”
They both nodded.
“Right, now that that’s settled…” With that, Rarity hoisted herself up and walked towards the door. Halfway through the frame, however, her sides bunched up. Her belly was still distended from the cream.
“A little help—” she managed to barely squeak out before she felt a forehead on her rump. With a few shoves, she plopped out on the other side. Before she could get back up onto her hooves, she felt something under her.
“What the—”
“Ngh, just relax, Rarity!” Applejack groaned under her. “I—ungh!—gotcha.”
It was in this fashion that Rarity and Applejack proceeded to the front door, with Fancy Pants following silently behind. Applejack was about to reach out a hoof to get it, but Rarity did it first with her magic. That was well enough, as Applejack may not’ve been able to support the obese mare with three legs.
Outside was an entourage of three stallions and a large palanquin, made of light-colored wood, with magenta pillows, a silk sheet, and a set of blue transparent curtains surrounding it. The stallions waited patiently while Applejack rolled Rarity onto the sheet, and then took her place at the remaining pole of the palanquin.
“Just sit tight, Rarity,” Fancy Pants said as he drew the curtains. “Just enjoy the ride. It would be rather taxing for your legs if you had to carry that weight around.”
“Thank you, darling!” Rarity lay herself along the palanquin, feeling her body spreading out along it. “That was awfully considerate of you.”
With that, the palanquin was hoisted up by the four ponies, and Fancy Pants led them all down the street of her boutique. Despite how large she was, they all held it steady so she wouldn’t topple over. She took a look back, and found Applejack stealing glances at her; she probably couldn’t see her look back, and so she kept on staring unimpeded.
As they walked on, Rarity could see ponies taking peeks into the palanquin, and admiring her voluptuous figure.  She blushed as she felt herself being paraded around for everypony to see. But as the palanquin bended under her weight, and she jiggled with the movements, she thought to herself that this wasn’t so bad. There were ponies that supported her throughout this endeavor, and she found out what it was like to be naughty and gluttonous, and yet still maintain her personality. Perhaps, this wasn’t such a bad fate after all. She could lose all of the weight if she wanted to; she assumed Rainbow Dash and even Applejack would help her out with that.
Her stomach growled. Perhaps her weight loss could wait.

























Some Time Later




















She lay in her mirror chamber, inspecting herself once again. Every angle of her body, every curve, every hair and eyelash could be scrutinized. Here, she could do anything she wanted.
Everything, that is, except walk. She was pinned down by her body, unable to stand on her own hooves.
She had ended up acquiescing to both Fancy Pants and Applejack’s desires and gained weight. A lot of weight, actually, more than she could handle. It was rough at first, but many ponies leapt to her aid, helping her out with chores, business, cooking, and basically moving around. It was odd, having what essentially counted as servants, but she needed them considering she was now beached. 
Her belly pooled under her, large and flabby, nearly wide enough to press against all of the mirrors simultaneously. Her barrel was as large as a pony normally was, and had consumed her forelegs down to her hooves. Now whenever she tried moving her forelegs for any reason, her whole front shook with the effort. Her chins and neck rested on that barrel, while her facial cheeks hung lower than her chin had once been, once she had been thin.
                Whereas her belly nearly touched the glass, her rump pressed up against the top of it, and squished against the back of the chamber. Her tail had been consumed, but one of the friends she had made had curled it up into a ball, so it didn’t get in the way of more private affairs. Whenever she was carried, it bobbed and parted and slapped against itself, like the tide.
                She was vast, and she felt marvelous. She lay about all day, yet she wasn’t idle. She still did her work, and she still moved around in her palanquin. She was regularly stuffed with cream courtesy of Applejack,  and sampled fine cuisine courtesy of Fancy Pants. Her friends had supported her new body, while the Canterlot elite went nuts over it. The ponies of Canterlot had expressed no interest in stopping her. The newspapers had been buzzing about her new weight, and wondering how much larger she could get. How much larger they could make her.
Applejack entered the room, and a trail of steam followed. She patted Rarity on the rump to signal that breakfast was ready. Well, who was she to stop them?