Chapter 1
It was a beautiful day in small-town America. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and in the lawn of a little ranch-style home on the outskirts of a major southern city, a stallion leaned against a lawnmower, wiping the sweat from his forehead. This was no ordinary stallion, however; The man who was busy mowing this particular lawn was none other than Discord!
The draconequus had changed quite a bit since his days as the Lord of Chaos, and not just the addition of a pair of wire-framed glasses to aid his bleary eyes; No longer a mere noodle, his body had ballooned out over the years, going from a spindly twig to an absolute unit of a man. His belly was framed by an unbuttoned plaid shirt, and looked like a half-inflated balloon, hanging nearly a foot over his waistband and pressing into the handle of the lawnmower, an old-fashioned push model with rusty blades that squeaked with every step. In the crook on an arm, he held an old-fashioned double-barrel shotgun, the barrel still warm from it's last use, that being the extermination of some pesky beer bottles in his way.
About three quarters of the way down his gut sat a cavernous belly button, which had been plugged up by a thick beer bottle. Discord's belly wobbled as he tugged it free, not bothering to pop off the cap – Instead, he simply bit through the neck of the bottle, spitting out the shards of glass and chugging the cheap booze within, before tossing it into a pile of similarly broken bottles on the lawn.
His biceps were bigger than his head, streaked with veins as thick as one of his meaty fingers, while his pecs sat atop his belly like a pair of meaty boulders. Long, fat nipples jutted from areolas the size of dinnerplates, and from the tips oozed a constant flow of thick, translucent fluid, a potent mixture of milk and precum that disappeared amid his wiry black chest hair. All of this was hidden – Just barely – By an undersized wifebeater, emblazoned with the words 'Damn – I love to FART!'
Each of his armpits was a rainforest under a constant downpour of sweat, staining his shirt and giving rise to a thick stench of burnt onions, which followed the draconequus wherever he went, mingling with the overwhelming stench of fart-soaked testosterone. Sweat oozed down his body in the hot sunlight, an absolute tidal wave of yellowish liquid leaving a trail behind him, marking his path as he crisscrossed the lawn.
Being a creature of chaos, he didn't follow any logical path for mowing – Instead, he simply moved back and forth in random patterns, making the lawn look like a long-lost cubist painting, a study in green and yellow. The neighbors wouldn't complain – He'd already turned most of the people in the neighborhood into potted plants, or transformed their pet chihuahuas into carnivorous beasts to eat them in their sleep.
The draconequus scratched his beard, his fingers sinking to the knuckles in the vast expanse of white hair. It looked like a Jackson Pollock painting, splattered in a dozen colors of food and sauce, and when he withdrew his hand, his fingers looked like he'd dipped them in a tray of children's paints. He popped them into his mouth one by one, licking up the remains of long-ago meals. When the pinkie finger popped out, his belly gurgled, and a simultaneous fart/belch combo billowed forth from both ends, filling the air with a heady, slightly alcoholic stench.
Reaching into the pocket of his overstretched jeans, Discord pulled out a flask the size of a milk bottle and took a swig, humming happily as the whiskey rolled down his throat. The burning sensation was nothing more than a pleasant tingle to him, and he didn't pause to take a breath until the flask was nearly empty; Letting out a satisfied burp, he closed the flask and tossed it into the nearby hedge, where it joined a heap of discarded cans and bottles hanging amid the green boughs.
The draconequus adjusted his waistband – His belt had broken long ago, so the only thing keeping his jeans from falling down was the sheer tension caused by his tree trunk thighs, a mix of muscle and fat that filled the legs like sausage skins. A constant flow of farts and sharts had turned the back of his jeans brown, and as the dadly draconequus grunted, another blast of gas added to the damp fabric, which looked like he'd just taken a seat in a mud puddle.
The zipper was long gone, allowing his cock and balls to hang freely, each hairy testicle the size of a beachball, while his cock, seven full feet of rock-hard manhood, jutted before him like a musky, sweat-soaked lance.
Even after his hearty drink, Discord's throat still felt parched – Only one thing could possibly sate it, and so, grabbing his cock with both hands, he wrapped his lips around the tip and unleashed a tidal wave of piss. Hot, acrid, whiskey-flavored whizz cascaded into his beergut, which wobbled and swelled slightly as a gallon of the stuff rushed into it, creaking ominously. After only a few seconds, he let go of his cock, allowing the rest of this particular piss to shower across him, staining his shirt and the Mossy Oak cap on his head.
After this drink, his stomach began to grumble, and he decided to take a quick break from his chores to make a quick snack – That being, a steak the size of one of the draconequus's pecs, as thick as his cock and streaked with strands of white fat. Firing up the barbecue, he tossed it on and listened to it sizzle just long enough to turn the outside black, but leaving the inside nice and pink. Glancing down at the bowie knife on his belt, he thought about slicing it into small, easily digestible chunks – But just for a second, as he opened his mouth wide, revealing a set of razor-sharp yellow teeth, and swallowed the steak whole. There was a huge bulge as it slipped down his throat, and then a splash as it landed amid his piss-and-acid filled stomach.
It wasn't enough – Reaching into the same cooler he'd grabbed the steak from, the draconequus pulled out a ball of bacon about the size of a basket ball. It wasn't hollow, but an actual wad of pure meat, held together only by the congealed grease that inundated the entire monstrous creation. Spinning it on his finger, Discord chuckled, “Now dis is how a real man eats!”
With that, he flicked it up into the air and caught it with his mouth, swallowing it and letting out a satisfied belch. With all that weight churning around in his belly, the draconequus was finally ready to get back to work – But not before letting out a greasy, five-second-long fart.
It took a while, but eventually, the lawn was nearly completely mowed. Not cleanly – The lawnmower was far too rusty to slice grass at an even level, trimming some spots down to the dirt and leaving others completely untouched. He didn't care; At this point, the yellowish trail behind him had turned to acid, leaving a strand of dead grass in his wake. He was too exhausted to care. Heading over to the house, he plopped his sofa-wide ass down on the deck, causing it to creak ominously beneath his weight.
“Son!” He called, cupping a hand around his mouth, “Ah need sum'thin ta drink!”
There was a clattering noise from within the house, followed by a faint cry of “Right away, pa!” A few moments later, a teenage human staggered out of the house, clutching an enormous box in his scrawny arms. He swayed this way and that, stumbling over to his father before letting the box hit the deck with an earthshaking thud.
“Dang, boy, yer weak,” Discord grunted, casting an irritated glance at his son, “Can't even carry a 64 pack o' brew?”
“S-sorry, pa,” The boy muttered, looking down at his feet – His own feet, not Discord's, which were big enough for a size 20 shoe, not that he ever wore any.
With an aggravated sigh, Discord tore into the box and pulled out six-pack after six-pack of cans – Not beer cans, but cans of Gut'n'Fart whiskey, America's cheapest and most potent brand of firewater. With a single swift movement, the draconequus popped every can open at once, and scooping them up with his powerful arms, guzzled every last can at the same time. As the last drops drained down his throat, he flexed his arm, crushing the entire heap of cans into a single thin sheet of aluminum, which he casually tossed aside, the razor-sharp edge piercing deep into the ground.
Discord patted his belly, feeling momentarily content as the alcohol content – 100 proof, so powerful that any lesser creature would be instantly mummified – Swirled through his brain. Then, his belly churned painfully, and he lost control, letting out a massive belch. It wasn't a belch, not really, but a blast of pure reeking wind shooting straight into the sky. Over two hundred thousand miles away, the moon seemed to quiver for a moment, then, it exploded into a million pieces of debris, flying through the sky like a thousand thousand falling stars.
Discord's son was knocked onto his back, and had a perfect view as the remains of the moon streaked through the air, landing with the force of bombs all across the northern hemisphere. Countless thousands died in the first instant, and millions more deaths would follow, all thanks to his father's overactive stomach! It was horrific, it was-
“Pull muh finger, boy,” Discord drawled, standing up and holding one meaty finger out. The boy stared in surprise, but obeyed without question; After all, a good son did as his father told him, no matter how many billions might die as a result. Discord's finger was as thick as the boy's own wrist, forcing him to use both hands and really pull to get it to move, but eventually, there was a sharp crack as his knuckle cracked.
That was one of the last sounds ever heard in this plane of reality, as Discord took a step back, placing a hand on his belly as he groaned, “Hrrng! This is gonna be a big one, Johnny!”
The boy didn't have time to point out that that wasn't his real name, as a slow, sputtery fart blew out from Discord's crack, adding to the hot and humid stench; Then, all it once, it exploded with the force of an atomic bomb. In less than a second, the house, yard, street, and entire suburban neighborhood disappeared; The sudden blast of pure DILF energy caused the boy to age rapidly, cycling through adulthood to a bloated, wrinkled grandfatherhood, the kind of man that Discord would've loved to pound with his monster cock, but in the same instant, his atoms burst apart, leaving nothing behind.
The earth came next, as people awaiting their doom from the broken moon found themselves as nothing more than scattered stardust in his wake. The blast radiated out, blotting out the sun as if blowing out a candle. All the while, the draconequus grunted and screamed, even as the lack of oxygen in the growing void made it impossible for the sound to travel past his vocal cords.
The void wasn't the only thing growing; The seat of his pants had been erased in the first seconds of the fart, and now, his thighs expanded into massive turkey legs, burning the jeans to nothing, while his shirt splintered apart as his belly bloated out, as if trying to contain the immense amount of fartgas his backside belched forth with every passing second. His pecs grew and grew, the streams of dadmilk turning into torrents that flooded into space, swirling around like off-white nebulas of pure nutrition.
His belly was the size of a planet, his cock the length of an entire solar system, blasting off a constant stream of incredibly thick cum, so potent that entire microgalaxies were born and died within a single cell of his sperm. His green eyes cast an eerie glow through the void, and as the very fabric of reality unwound beneath the awesome force of his fart, his scream began to transition, growing deeper and hollower, turning into a long, steady belch.
Each one of his antlers was longer than the Burj Khalifa – The building was less than atoms at this point, but the comparison was still like comparing a yardstick to the length of the draconequus's cock, ie, entirely useless in describing the awesome length of those keratin spires.
An eon later, the fartbelch began to die down. The old reality was gone, erased so utterly that it may not have existed at all. The only hint that still remained was Discord's cap, still perched between his massive antlers, each of which was as long as a nebula, coming out of a head that was, against all logic, still the normal size. If one were to view his entire body, his galaxy-spanning belly and his universe-engulfing ass cheeks, his head would've been completely invisible, like trying to spot an ant on an alien planet using nothing but binoculars.
Atoms themselves were a dead concept at this point; All that remained was a primordial miasma of fartgas. Someday, perhaps, it would coalesce into something substantial and the universe would begin anew, in a fiery burst of methane, giving Discord another world to play around with. Next time, perhaps, he'd create a race of equines – He was always partial to ponies...
Sinking down into a hammock-like structure of congealed wind, Discord snapped his fingers, summoning a can of beer – Just a normal can of Bud, nothing special. Cracking it open, he took a long sip, then tipped his hat over his face and nodded off, waiting for the new reality to start.