Chapter 1
Appleloosa was a quaint little town near the southernmost part of Equestria, though just a bit north of the Macintosh Hills. It was a western town, mostly composed of Earth Ponies quickly moving to and fro as they went about their business. All friendly, waving to their neighbors as they rushed from one opportunity to the next, whether that be playing a game of buckball, partaking in a square dance or two, or just chatting and being sociable with each other in the local tavern.
At least, that’s how it was.
From his spot in the apple orchard behind his home, Braeburn partook in a bit of ponywatching, as he usually did near the end of his apple bucking endeavors, and found it necessary to note just how much that had changed in the past few weeks.
Before, while not everypony was an athlete, most ponies were slim enough to fit through doorways and slide through crowds with ease. Only the mares had rumps that remotely threatened to destroy chairs, and that’s just how Braeburn liked it.
Now? Guts that threatened to drag along the ground, if not already making a path in sand already.Male and female rears that were fat enough to force the local tavern to reinforce their splintering chairs. Menus that grew in size and calorie count to a point where Braeburn figured he was better off making his own food at home.
Especially once the tavern cut his favorite apple pecan salad for “not being part of their new vision.”
And Braeburn knew exactly who to blame.
That damned new restaurant.
The Greasy Spoon was a restaurant that had opened in Appleloosa only a few weeks ago. At first it seemed like most new businesses that sprung up in town after their buckball stadium was built. A business pony tried their best to slide their way into town and be the first to offer their product to the “dumb, southern masses” of Appleloosa, not knowing that they were smart enough to know when they were pandered to.
It happened to the Flim Flam Brothers. It happened to Iron Will. And, as far as Braeburn was aware, it would happen to The Greasy Spoon as well.
But then it worked. A few ponies visited on opening week to see what the fuss was about and, after leaving a few dozen pounds heavier because of it, gushed to their friends about the delicious food, the lovely atmosphere, the tasty menu, the music that they loved, but couldn’t quite remember.
And not to mention the food.
Currently, Braeburn was able to see one of the prime suspects of just how well loved the food was. Cherry Jubilee waddled into his line of sight, her rounded belly dragging along the ground as she sweated along towards her new favorite restaurant. She seemed to already be salivating as her brain pictured all of the lovely meals she was going to have for her usual light dinner.
Also salivating was Braeburn, whose eyes were drawn to the mare’s jiggling ass like a magnet. Despite everything he could say about the restaurant and the increased weight of 90% of Appleloosa, he had to admit that it had a great effect on his favorite part of a woman. The way those cheeks, each bigger than his head at this point, wobbled to and fro as Ms. Jubilee waggled her hips in excitement? Absolutely breathtaking. Distracting any straight, red-blooded Equestrian.
“Um, excuse me? Mr. Apple?” Came a question to Braeburn’s side, immediately freeing him from any fantasies he may have been having about his face between said cheeks.
Swinging around, blushing heavily as he did so, Braeburn began to excuse himself before fully seeing the stallion who had interrupted him.
Standing a bit taller than Braeburn was a dark blue unicorn stallion, wearing a well-tailored business suit and a grin only meant for the greasiest of business stallions. As he grinned, his purple eyes twinkled with a hope that today was the day he would get his deal.
This was Mr. Greased Palms, the owner and proprietor of The Greasy Spoon.
Braeburn scowled, shaking his head immediately. “Nope! I ain’t here to hear any more of your offers. Apple Family apples ain’t for no fancy restaurants. ‘Specially after what I see it doin’ to the town.”
Though Braeburn turned to leave, he only found that Greased Palms had already stepped in front of him to block him.
“From my point of view, you seemed to be enjoying what you saw quite a bit.” Greasy said, his grin growing a bit teasing as Braeburn’s blush only flared brighter. “But I’m not here to comment on your taste in mares, nor am I here for your apples. What I am here to do is offer you an opportunity.”
“I said no!” Braeburn said strongly, turning away again.
With a flash of his purple magic, Greased was yet again in front of Braeburn. This time, his face fell with despair, drooping his head low as he looked up to Braeburn pleadingly. “Please just hear me out, sir. If this offer doesn’t please you, then I promise I won’t bother you again.”
Braeburn hesitated. Part of him knew that he couldn’t trust a business pony as far as he could throw them, and although Greased didn’t look like he partook in any of his food, that wouldn’t be very far.
On the other hoof, if he truly was a stallion of his word, this would be the easiest way of getting rid of him for good.
Breathing a soft sigh, he gestured towards Greased Palms with a hoof. “Alright, I’ll hear you out.” He relented, opening up a bit, though still looking towards the stallion sternly. “But I don’t wanna see any funny business, and I ain’t signing anything.”
Greased simply waved Braeburn’s concerns off with a hoof, a grin sliding back onto his face. “Oh no, nothing like that. Just one small, simple offer.” He paused for a moment, running a hoof through his short, well-maintained grey mane. “Mr. Apple, I would love to have you for dinner, if you’d do me the kindness.”
Braeburn blinked.
Had this stallion, not just moments before, not seen him ogling the hell out of one of Appleloosa’s many eligible mares? This wasn’t a first for Braeburn, not in the slightest due to his semi-feminine look and luxurious mane, but this was probably the most out of place.
He chuckled a bit, caught off-guard by the offer. An amused, though slightly apologetic grin crossed his face as he shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Well I hate to say it, but I think you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree if you’re lookin’ to get a date outta me.”
Greased blinked a few times, then tilted his head back in a mightily loud guffaw. After his laughter, he clapped a hoof on Braeburn’s shoulder and shot him yet another grin. “Ah, forgive my verbiage, Mr. Apple. I was merely wanting to invite you to eat at my restaurant, as you’re one of the very few around who haven’t visited yet.”
With a slight chuckle, and after shrugging off Greased’s hoof, Braeburn pressed a hoof to his trim stomach. “Eeyup, and that’s exactly why I ain’t the size of my house right now. You might’a fooled the rest of the town with that fattenin’ junk you call ‘food’, but I ain’t about to join ‘em.”
A look of shock crossed Greased’s face as he pressed his hoof to his own chest. “I hope you don’t intend to suggest that I’m to blame for ponies enjoying my food. I merely provide a service that these ponies just so happen to enjoy.”
Braeburn snorted, then turned again to leave. “Well, I hope y’all keep enjoyin’ it then.”
Greased let Braeburn walk away for a few moments, both enjoying the view and the thrill of the chase.
“In fact!” He continued after those few moments, another sly grin spreading across his face. “Apple Brandy respects my work so much, he even agreed to sell me his recipe for apple pecan salad.”
Braeburn flinched, his ears swiveling around at the mention of his beloved, and largely missed, favorite dish.
Having stopped the apple farmer in place, Greased Palms was quick to close the distance between the two. “Yes, he told me how much you seemed to miss the dish, and I’ve been looking for ways to attract new clientele anyway. It seemed like the perfect olive branch to offer a stallion such as yourself.”
Turning to look at Greased once again, Braeburn narrowed his eyes. “Y’all ain’t tryin’ to pull the wool over my eyes, right? You got the actual recipe, and y’ain’t changed it at all?”
Greased scoffed, once again clapping his hoof on Braeburn’s shoulder. “Mr. Apple, I am, if nothing else, a stallion of my word. I swear to you, not a single ingredient on that recipe has been changed, and it’s on the menu waiting for you tonight. That is, if you’ll be joining us this evening.”
Despite himself, Braeburn began salivating at the prospect of tasting the salad again and, as if he wasn’t already convinced, his stomach growled loudly in excited fascination with the idea.
As Braeburn’s face lit up with a bright blush, Greased merely let out another chuckle. “I’ll be sure to save you our best table, Mr. Apple.”
---
After having inadvertently agreed to Greased’s strange, yet tempting offer, Braeburn spent the next few hours tending to his farm, bucking apples and working up quite a sweat. By the time he’d finished, the sun had set on Appleloosa and night had long since begun.
Braeburn quickly took a shower, both to freshen up and calm his nerves, then donned his usual vest and cowboy hat. It was a more relaxed attire than he’d usually go for when eating out at an actual restaurant, but he figured he probably wouldn’t be staying for long.
No sense in getting trussed up for a twenty minute meal, after all.
After finishing getting ready and leaving his home, it was only a short walk over to his destination: The Greasy Spoon.
It wasn’t exactly a hard restaurant to find. It was a large, bright building both in color and spotlights that were aimed at it shining through the night. It seemed like someone had taken a slice of Las Pegasus and slapped it down right in the corner of Appleloosa.
And even if it weren’t for that, even if it were some nondescript building that didn’t look so gaudy, the avalanche of overweight ponies flocking their way to the restaurant and resting outside, faces still caked in fattening food, told Braeburn that this was the place.
As Braeburn moved to enter the gaudy restaurant, he took a moment to think about how uncomfortable it was that he, formerly one of the larger stallions in Appleloosa, was barely larger than some of the bellies of the ponies he passed. Even the doorway to the restaurant, a set of thick double doors that could let four Braeburns pass through comfortably, made Braeburn seem small in comparison.
Inside, the restaurant was…
Surprisingly normal.
Ponies sat around tables covered in white, though food stained, tablecloth, happily chatting amongst themselves as they eagerly consumed their large meals. Surprisingly, they seemed to be a bit more friendly than the average restaurant patron, hooves rubbing against bellies and snouts nuzzling against snouts.
With a blush, Braeburn looked away from the loving displays to see that, despite how full the restaurant was and the ponies meandering about outside, one table sat empty in the center of the dining room, elevated on a stage above them all.
Just as Braeburn began to question it, he felt his attention quickly being gripped and dragged to the music playing on the speakers overhead. It was light, peaceful, and not quite something he would normally notice unless focusing hard at it. Despite this, as Braeburn tried to discern exactly what the music was, his ears began to ring.
“Mr. Braeburn?” Came a light, feminine voice in front of Braeburn, cutting through the attention he was paying to the music. “Can I help you?”
Blinking, Braeburn shook his head and righted himself, looking forward to look at the mare who desired his attention.
Or… stallion, rather.
A light-blue feminine unicorn stallion stood before Braeburn, a big and welcoming grin on his face. In contrast to most of the ponies in the restaurant, he was very slim and lithe, with only a small layer of fat to keep him looking cute and feminine. Despite this, the thin white shirt he wore, assumedly the restaurant’s uniform, still clung to him in a way that flustered Braeburn.
Most of him was slim, at least. But even as he stood directly in front of Braeburn, it only took a slight look behind to see the two large, jiggly cheeks that were this stallion’s rump, barely contained in orange shorts that were entirely too short. So short, in fact, that Braeburn could clearly make out the stallion’s cutie mark, a martini glass, stretched across his fat behind.
Braeburn flicked his eyes back to this stallion’s face with a large blush, having stared for much longer than he’d expected to. And then maybe a few more times after.
“Uhhh, howdy!” Braeburn gave a gentle wave to the stallion, putting on his usual large, charismatic grin as he did so. “I’m, uh, here to grab a bite to eat, I suppose. I was invited?”
The stallion gave a light, feminine giggle, pressing a white dappled hoof to his muzzle as he did so. “Oh Mr. Braeburn, we’ve been expecting you.” He said, then extended his hoof to Braeburn. “I’m Sapphire Martini, sweetie. Mr. Palms hoof-selected me to be your waiter tonight~”
Braeburn took Sapphire’s hoof and shook it, perhaps a bit too eagerly, with a soft grin. “Well, I sure hope I won’t be givin’ you too much trouble tonight. But I sure can promise you a nice, hefty tip if y’all take care of me.”
Sapphire giggled again, though this time with a soft blush across his face. “Oh, I’ll be sure to look forward to that, Mr. Braeburn.” He tittered. “Now, if you’d like, I can show you to your table.”
Braeburn grinned softly, then gestured towards the dining room with a hoof. “Please, sugarcube, lead the way.”
Sapphire was all too eager to follow through with Braeburn’s request, bounding in front of Braeburn and giving his wide hips a little wiggle as he led the country stallion into the dining room. The wiggling, of course, causing the femboy’s rump to wobble and jiggle deliciously for all of the patrons to ogle and leer at.
And Braeburn most of all.
From the second that Sapphire stepped in front of him, from the first jiggle of his rump, Braeburn’s eyes were glued to the two large, delectable cheeks shaking in front of him, each straining the fabric of his tight little short-shorts. It was distracting, hypnotic even, and drew the eye of every stallion and mare in the building.
So distracted, Braeburn was, that he didn’t even notice as they approached his table, nor the eager stares of the patrons as he passed. Not even as Sapphire lead him up the steps with a shake of his hips.
It was only when Sapphire moved away to begin setting the tableware, somehow moving his fat behind out of Braeburn’s line of sight, that Braeburn finally began to catch on.
Looking around, under the adoring eyes of all of the patrons around him, he realized that his seat was the one he’d been questioning earlier. The one set at the center of the restaurant, above all of the rest of them.
A seat of honor for Greased Palms’ VIP.
Braeburn began to sweat slightly from the attention being placed upon him. Normally he was a lavish lover of having all eyes on him, but not the hungry stares of these drooling, rotund stallions and mares.
The only thing he had to distract himself with was the strange humming noise that he could hear just under the softly playing music.
Noting his distraction, Sapphire cleared his throat to draw the attention back to him. Once grabbing it again, he giggled and motioned up towards the ceiling. “Oh, you must be hearing the AC. It’s just so on the fritz right now, so it must be a little bit sweltering in here.”
As Braeburn looked up in the direction suggested, he could see the large air conditioning unit chugging along just above the table, hidden by a gaudy chandelier hanging down to distract from it. And, just as Sapphire said, he could feel a bit of sweat beading at his forehead, the heat mentioned beginning to get to him.
He nodded. “Eeyup, that must be it.”
With this decided, he finally approached the table proper and took his seat, hoping that he would be able to tune out the humming just like he began to ignore the eyes continuing to stare at him.
And as he sat, Sapphire grinned widely as he handed him the restaurant’s menu.
Just as quickly, Braeburn passed it back. “Ah, that won’t be necessary, sugarcube. Already know that I’m gettin’ that deeelicious apple pecan salad. And a glass of water, please.”
Sapphire blinked, hesitating for a moment before clutching the menu to his chest. “Are you… sure? There’s a bunch of tasty dishes other than that. Like our Triple Stacked Hayburger, or our Super Duper Loaded Fries, or even our-”
With the wave of a hoof, Braeburn interrupted the sales pitch. “While all that sounds like it’d be great for all y’all’s… normal patrons,” he briefly gestured out to the ponies surrounding, most of whom were devouring those very specials, “But I’m watchin’ my weight a bit, so I’m just goin’ with something light to start.”
Sapphire blinked again, but quickly redoubled his soft yet eager grin. Though it also came with a dash of concern. “Alright! I’ll go ahead and put that in, and bring out your… water. Right away.”
Braeburn flashed his award winning grin and gave a gentle nod. “Thank ya kindly, sweetheart.”
As Sapphire sauntered away with Braeburn’s order, taking his attention and gaze with him for a few wobbly steps, Braeburn was finally able to properly overlook the restaurant from his elevated position.
From his vantage point, he could see the large haze of hedonism that blanketed the restaurant. Manners seemed to have been thrown out the window completely with patrons forgoing silverware in favor for hooves, faces covered in various crumbs and sauces, and, worst of all, ponies speaking with their mouths full.
Locking eyes on a specific table close to his, he saw Sheriff Silverstar buried face-deep in a tin of apple pie. Once finished licking the tin clean, the stallion leaned back with a wide smile on his face and gave his large gut a satisfied rubbing. And, as such, dragged the crumbs and pie filling that stained his hoof across the brown canvas that was his lap-filling belly.
Looking up, Sheriff Silverstar caught Braeburn staring and, with a grin that was almost too wide and eager, waved up at Braeburn. Only for a moment, however, as his skimpily dressed waiter returned with yet another refill on pie and soda. Almost immediately, and with a teasing rub on the gut from the waiter, Silverstar returned to burying his muzzle into another pie.
Braeburn blinked. There was something a little unsettling about seeing a stallion he respected highly acting like a pig lead to a trough but…
He found he couldn’t dwell on it for too long. Instead, his focus kept shifting to the wide, pleased grin on the stallion’s face, and just how tasty looking the apple pie seemed to be. And just imagine how much tastier it could be if they were made using Apple family apples instead! They’d be absolutely addictive, so maybe that Greased Palms fellow had a point or two and-
Braeburn shook his head. He had no idea what made him think something like that, but it wasn’t something he liked. As delicious and mouth watering as the pie was, and heck so was most of the food he could see, he’d rather make the food less addictive, not more.
But his tune swayed a bit as an absolutely delectable scent made itself known along with the sound of rushed hoofsteps making their way up the staircase towards Braeburn.
Braeburn turned just in time to see a rushed Sapphire placing two items on his table. The first being a glass of light brown liquid, clearly not the water he requested.
The second, and more interesting, was a tray of the most delicious looking breadsticks Braeburn had laid his eyes on. Each of the sticks he had been given, blessed with even, was drenched in enough garlic butter that they drooled into the very container they sat in, creating a pool of butter beneath them.
This drooling was mirrored by Braeburn, whose eyes widened as he locked eyes with this delicacy.
And yet, he shook the urge to eat them away and wiped his drool away with a hoof.
Turning to Sapphire, he poked at one of the succulent breadsticks, giving a slightly uneasy smile. “Uh, I think y’all mighta got my order mixed up with someone else’s?”
Sapphire tilted his head in confusion for a moment, then shook it with a gentle giggle. “Nope! Every order comes with an Unlimited Bread Baskettm, so this is all yours. And as for the water…” He gave a soft, sheepish grin as he shrugged. “It looks like we’re out of, uh, water, so I hope you’re alright with sweet tea.”
Braeburn blinked, set his jaw, then looked towards Sapphire with the same unsure look. “I… suppose that’s fine, but-”
“Perfect!” Sapphire said with a cheerful grin, interrupting Braeburn before he could finish “Well, let me know if you need anything, and I’ll try and get your meal out as quick as possible!”
Without leaving any room for response, Sapphire sauntered his way away from Braeburn’s table. So quickly, in fact, that Braeburn had only a moment to turn and question his renegade waiter.
“Wait, how in the heck are y’all outta wa-”
Braeburn’s question trailed off, the stallion losing focus of it as he watched Sapphire’s descent down the staircase. The feminine waiter swayed his hips oh so teasingly, sending ripples and wobbles through his wide, mostly uncovered rump.
Braeburn’s jaw fell slack, whatever words he aimed to say falling out of them with a soft moan as his eyes continued to track the sway of Sapphire’s lovingly developed butt.
Left and right, left and right.
Back and forth, back and forth.
As the rump continued to swallow his attention whole, Braeburn tracking it as Sapphire wobbled his way around the restaurant, he began to zone out on his surroundings. Gone were the patrons and their conversation, and most of the restaurant as a whole fading to the background of Braeburn’s perception. All that was left was a pair of cheeks Brae wanted to bury his face between… and the humming that he could still hear above him.
As Braeburn filtered out the sounds of the restaurant around him, his ears swiveled up towards what Sapphire had referred to as the ‘air conditioner’, and as he did he felt a deep, twin hungers brewing within him. One for the round behind he still continued to ogle, as well as other roundnesses that he began to notice in the ponies around him.
The other, a hunger for the garlicy, buttery scent that came from the tray on his table. Still slack jawed and with drool dripping down his chin, Braeburn grabbed a breadstick with a hoof and brought it to his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.
Braeburn took his first bite, moaning loudly as the garlic butter filled his mouth with a flavor more potent than any he’d tasted before. It was so overpowering that he faltered, eyes fluttering in pleasure for a moment before he continued to scarf down the rest of the breadstick.
And then, just as quickly, Braeburn stuffed his mouth full of the next one, barely bothering to chew as he delighted in every taste and flavor offered to him. And then the next one. And the next one.
And the next one.
And another. And another.
Braeburn’s focus tunneled to the point that all he could see, smell, and taste was the garlic bread he was shoveling into his mouth. All he could feel was the grease and butter caking his hooves, mouth, and soon his chest and stomach as he attempted to wipe his hooves clean. All he could hear was the loud humming coming from above him, creating a similar buzz within his head.
The buzz filled his brain, driving any thoughts of Stopping or Manners away and replacing them with a hunger and need to keep going. With every delectable bite, it seemed like each drop of grease and butter traveled up to Braeburn’s brain, slowing every thought to a churning, fattened crawl.
A dense grin spreading across his face, Braeburn continued on happily.
He lost track of time in his ravenous consuming, only noting that his spread of greasy goodness was running dreadfully low. A bit of anxiety filled Braeburn, but it was quickly quelled with a gentle giggle from beside him.
“You enjoying the food, sweetheart?” Sapphire asked, a teasingly knowing grin spread across his lips.
The question took Braeburn a moment to process, but his grease-coated grin widened as he nodded vigorously. “Eeyup! These breadsticks here are-”
Braeburn stopped as he noticed flecks of food coming out as he talked. Working his jaw, he realized he hadn’t swallowed the last hunk of breaded grease before speaking. A red hot blush covering his face, he forced himself through a swallow before tipping his hat in shame. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Oh don’t worry about that. I’m just glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Sapphire said with a giggly grin. Though the grin quickly fell as he let out a soft sigh. “Ah, but I do have a little bit of bad news. Chef says we’re out of enough apples to make your apple pecan salad. So, is there anything else we can get you?”
A soft, pouting look formed on Braeburn’s face as the only reason he was at the restaurant was ripped away from him in one fell swoop. But, as the cacophony of food fragrances around him began to get to him again, his stomach growled loudly and his mind grew foggy once more.
He looked towards Sapphire again, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Y’all still got that Super Duper Hayburger whatchamacallit?”
Sapphire’s face lit up with a very pleased grin. “Our Quadruple Stacked Hayburger? Coming right up, cutie~ And, so a big stud like you doesn’t go hungry, I’ve got some more breadsticks for your weight.”
With a wink, Sapphire laid another, somehow larger tray of butter drenched breadsticks in front of Braeburn. He gave a small giggle, patting Braeburn on his gut, then turned to leave. “Enjoy yourself, stud~”
Braeburn didn’t have to be told twice. Immediately, his hooves sprung for more of his newfound delicacy, shoving stick after stick into his waiting, drooling maw. Moans emitted with each bite, especially as he scraped the greasy remnants of the old tray atop the new.
Anything rational left within Braeburn’s brain had long since faded, drowned out in a sea of flavors, smells, and tingly hums that tickled his poor brain. And with this fading, so did fade Braeburn’s track on how long he was waiting.
A minute? Ten? An hour? More?
Braeburn had no idea. All he knew was the breadsticks before him, of which he lost count in the dozens, constantly being replaced by the wobbling femboy at his beck and call. Each time Sapphire returned, he giggled and rubbed Braeburn’s side, shoulders, belly, and whatever he could get his hooves on. And Braeburn appreciated every bit of it, wishing he could share in the love, though his hooves were always more occupied with more and more and more consuming.
After quite a few trays of endless, speedy eating, something changed for Braeburn. As he scraped the bottom of the newest tray clean with a hoof, popping it into his mouth to lick it clean, he noted that there wasn’t suddenly a new, steaming tray of fresh breadsticks before him. Nor was there a teasing voice or prodding hoof to urge him along to eating it.
There was a mite of disappointment in Braeburn, but it was quickly replaced with the satisfaction and pride of devouring his food faster than it could even be replaced. He chuckled a deep chuckle and leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face.
As he leaned back in his chair, a loud creaking coming from it, his now unoccupied hooves found their way to his belly and gave it a rub. His hooves traced along the large, distended gut that filled his lap and forced his forelegs to spread. The growing belly wobbled pleasantly under Braeburn’s gentle ministrations, sending bolts of pleasure up with each sweaty, buttery inch rubbed down by his equally stained hooves.
Braeburn hummed softly for a moment, lavishing in the newly erotic pleasure that caused his covered crotch to stur slightly. He almost began to drool just from the feeling, but slowly the strange feeling of rubbing down what used to be well-defined muscles began to bring him back to a bit of lucidity.
Braeburn blinked. With a bit of shock, he looked down at the newly formed fat that his hooves continued to grope. “What in… tarnation?” He asked himself, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, only to find that his toned behind had also ballooned outward into a wobbly, seat-filling booty.
Braeburn’s cock surged under his belly at this realization, the stallion letting out a small whimper as his face flushed red. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.
So why did it feel so good?
Looking around, Braeburn was shocked to see that the scene around him had changed. What had once been a mostly normal, if a bit corpulent dining experience had now become a bit lewder. Whatever sense of decorum had been hanging on had long since gone out the window as pony began to grind against pony, belly against belly, and fluids abound.
While most patrons had since moved from their tables, instead finding it easier to sit, kneel, or lay on the ground to rut, other more dominant ponies remained seated and relished in the pleasuring of whatever submissive crawled their way.
One such pony was Sheriff Silverstar, who quickly locked eyes with Braeburn. Eyes narrowed, he looked at Braeburn with a different kind of hunger than before. Slowly, he beckoned the apple farmer over with a hoof while bringing another to the back of the head of the pony servicing him under his table. He let out a moan loud enough for Braeburn to hear over the sexual thrum of the restaurant.
This drew out a moan of Braeburn’s own, the stallion quickly realizing that his hooves seemed to have a mind of their own. One had already lifted his heavy gut while the other began to go to town on his surprisingly erect member.
And then the scent made its way to Braeburn. The tempting smell of fattening food that already had him again feeling starved was now intermingling with a heady, masculine musk that brought a new kind of hunger to the forefront of his foggy mind. Braeburn’s mouth watered, his eyes wandering over the jiggling, wobbling, studs on full display before him.
There were mares too, though limited in number, but Braeburn’s eyes simply glazed over them now. No matter how hard he tried to focus on them, his eyes always slid over to the big, meaty studs and their bellies rubbing against each other. It filled him with a growing urge to wiggle out of his seat and take Silverstar up on his offer, wondering just how that mustached stud would taste on his tongue.
Shaking his head, Braeburn brought himself back to reality at that thought. As tempting as it sounded to him at this point, he knew again that it wasn’t right.
“I’ve… I’ve gotta get outta here.” He said to himself before standing himself up from his seat.
This was an action easier said than done. Not only was he at least twice the size he was when he sat down, his immense gut and plush ass weighing him down greatly, but also said plush ass was currently wide enough to press hard against the arms of his chair. As he tried to free himself from the chair, his shaft seemed to be eager to make itself known, as well as make it known how much it enjoyed this sort of humiliation. It drooled happily, and each hard throb sent it slapping up against Braeburn’s wobbly gut.
Braeburn’s struggles continued for a few more moments, the stallion straining to pull himself free from the chair keeping him prisoner. However, his ears perked up and his struggles were put to a halt as he finally heard the voice he was hoping for.
“Sorry I took so long!” Sapphire chirped happily, seemingly ignoring both the lewd atmosphere around him and Braeburn’s current struggle. Instead, he displayed a quite sizable covered platter to Braeburn before setting it down on the table. “I hope you’re hungry, cutie~”
Braeburn was. Ravenous even. He quickly slammed his fat ass down, sending a shockwave of wobbles that cascaded throughout his body. Something that Sapphire clearly stopped to ogle. Despite this, Braeburn sat still as he waited with baited breath for his long awaited dinner.
Everything else could wait now that he had his food.
Sapphire giggled again, this time his attention drawn to what was under the table. Kneeling down, he lifted Braeburn’s gut with a hoof to reveal the long, thick slab of stallion meat that it hid. He gave it a few gentle strokes with his dainty hoof before looking up at Braeburn. “Mm, think you might want some help with this? I could use a meal of my own, you know.” To this, he added a teasing wiggle to his hips, showing Braeburn a wobble of his own.
Braeburn let out a hot, heavy moan in response, bucking his hips with need for a second before fighting to maintain control of himself. And yet, despite himself, he nearly began to nod vigorously and almost beg Sapphire to tend to his needy member.
But before the words could fall out of his mouth, Sapphire popped up with a teasing grin on his face. “Aw, but Mr. Palms said I’m not allowed to~ So you’ll just have to wait for dessert, sweetheart.” Another giggle, this time punctuated by one of Sapphire’s hooves stroking across Braeburn’s gut.
As a distracting amount of pleasure coursed through Braeburn with one hoof stroke, Sapphire’s other hoof moved to finally uncover the platter he’d brought with him. An utterly delicious, grease-coated scent filled the restaurant as steam escaped from under the tall lid. And underneath revealed: The Quintuple Stacked Hayburger.
The burger towered above Braeburn’s head, both parts enticing and ominous as just the smell began to make him drool. Five thick, battered and fried hay patties sat before him, each of them near the size of his head, and between them an unhealthy helping of cheese and white sauce that just oozed its way out. Though it rested between two toasted buns, the sheer weight of the already sagging burger was only held together by the metal skewer that ran through it.
Braeburn’s belly growled loudly, suddenly feeling emptier than it ever had before, and all he could think of was eating that burger like it was the tastiest kebab in the world. And whatever fell off, he could just use it as a sauce to eat the blanket of hayfries that lay beneath it.
And yet, even as hungry as he felt now…
Braeburn looked over to Sapphire, a bit of apprehension on his face. “This is, uh, a bit bigger than I expected. Think you can keep a to-go box waitin’ for me?”
Sapphire simply giggled and rolled his eyes, giving Braeburn’s big belly another lavish rub. “Aw, don’t you worry about that. I bet you can clear that whole plate in one go!” A sly smile crossed his face, the stallion leaning in and giving Braeburn’s cheek a gentle kiss. “Just be a good stud and eat. And maybe after, you’ll get some “dessert”~”
Braeburn perked up immensely at the very mention of dessert, wiggling his fat ass in his seat as he sat up in preparation for the meal ahead.
To this, Sapphire giggled. “Good luck, stud.”
And, with that, Sapphire sauntered away with a wide sway in his steps. His eyes gravitating to this again, Braeburn was this time utterly unable to help himself as his hoof found its way around his shaft before his foggy mind even realized what was happening. After a few dozen pumps under the table, every few drooling or splattering an absurd amount of precum around.
But as Sapphire pulled out of view, another few droolings regained Braeburn’s attention. First, the thick lard sauce that continued to ooze from his monster-sized burger, dripping onto the bed of hayfries below. Second, his own large, gaping maw that drooled and craved every bite of that burger.
Braeburn dove into the burger with fevered passion, taking it into both hooves and digging in with little to no regard for how much mess he was making. Lard, grease, and various other substances dragged across his face, but he just continued onwards like a good little pig stud did. Not a care in the world.
As time passed on, Braeburn snorting air in through his nose as he patently refused to tear his face away from his food, his ears began to perk up and twitch in time with the thrumming coming above him. And which each thrum, his ears could finally consciously pick up a few phrases:
‘Good Pigs Eat’
‘Horny Hungry Hog’
‘Stuff Your Face, Stuff Your Friends’
‘Lazy Drooling Piggy’
‘Greased’s Good Hog’
With each phrase, Braeburn slid deeper into a trance of stuffing his face. His movements became more erratic and his snorts for air became louder and more animalistic. And yet, despite this, Braeburn could not stop himself from eating. Nothing would pull him from the dripping, drooling mess of a burger that he was getting all over himself, from his fat cheeks to his chest and distended belly.
Seconds passed into minutes, and minutes passed into dozens as Braeburn lost himself in the hayburger and the phrases being pumped directly into his brain. There was no way of telling how long it took Braeburn to scarf down the entire burger, but as it finally passed he once again leaned back against his seat and gave his belly a good pat.
The belch that soon followed rocked the room, drawing the attention, adoration, and applause from the lazy patrons that surrounded him, most of which were resting passively in puddles of their own juices.
Braeburn flashed a slow, sleazy smile at his gaseousness, a low chuckle bubbling up from his thickly fattened throat. He began to stroke his gut, his movements slow, tired, and as lazy as the rest of the patrons.
But just as Braeburn began to grope himself further, the front doors of the restaurant burst open.
A silence overtook the atmosphere of the restaurant, giving it the semblance of order once more. Even the thrum of the words above Braeburn came to a halt, though they still echoed through his brain despite this.
Sauntering in without a care in the world, a self-satisfied grin on his face, Greased Palms finally showed himself. He held his head high, briefly nodding towards the many waitresses that flitted around him before locking his eyes right on his prized hog and the pedestal he sat upon.
Braeburn shivered under his gaze, drawn in by his piercing purple eyes and the charismatic saunter he took as he approached. So drawn in that he hardly noticed the gift box or clipboard the slim stallion carried with him.
“And how is my little piglet doing?” Greased asked, his voice like melted butter on Braeburn’s ears. Thick, fattening butter as every syllable seemed to slow his brain down even further.
Braeburn giggled, rubbing his belly with glee at the attention he was paid. “Doin’ good, sir~ Y’all’ve got some mighty fine meals here~”
Greased nodded, his grin growing wider as he was finally able to give his handiwork a close look.
It was impossible to tell that Braeburn had been a slim, muscular playboy just that morning. Strong, powerful hooves and legs were now buried underneath layers and layers of fat. A slim, muscular stomach now distended to scraping the floor and covering his crotch entirely, hiding a straining, wildly throbbing shaft that begged for attention. A tight rump that had ballooned into a massive ass that strained his chair and caused it to whine and moan.
A face with big, fat cheeks that dimpled as Braeburn’s simple grin lit up his face, a look of adoration pointed towards Greased. And all of it covered in a layer of grease, sweat, lard, and precum.
Greased’s cock surged, slapping against his comparatively tiny stomach and spritzing his black suit with precum.
Without a word, he laid the gift box upon the table. He made no move to open it, but Braeburn’s snout lit up as he began to sniff and snort at the air, picking up a distinct cinnamon scent and, after, the smell of baked goods and apples. Apple Family apples, even.
Braeburn sat up in his chair, as best he could given his corpulent state, and began to reach for the delicacy he could already almost taste.
And he emitted a pathetic, guttural whine as Greased pulled it away from him. “No no,” he said with a teasing chuckle, “Dessert comes later, piggy. Right now I have an offer to make you.”
With his magic, he offered the clipboard to Braeburn. “If you want the pie, you have to agree to my terms. Primarily being the sole right to any apples produced in your orchard for use in my restaurant, or any other of my businesses that may crop up in the near future.”
Greased stopped for a moment to judge Braeburn’s reaction to his offer. The fog slowly came away from the farmer’s eyes as his expression grew more concerned, shaking his head softly. “...y’all were after my apples this entire time, wasn’t ya?”
To this, Greased laughed. A loud, bombastic laugh that echoed throughout the entire restaurant. He shook his head. “Braeburn, you have me all wrong. I may want your family’s apples, but what I want more than that…” He trailed off for a moment, kneeling down on the ground to rest his head atop Braeburn’s obese gut, giving it a gentle, loving rub. “What I want is you, little piggy.”
Brae’s eyes widened with shock for a moment before they relaxed and slid closed at the rush of pleasure and attention. Fighting it for a moment, he breathed out a hot breath. “W-what do ya mean?”
Greased chuckled, his hooves rubbing harder against the canvas of fat before him. “You were a very enticing stallion, Braeburn, but just not my type. Too small. Too slim.” Reaching a hoof under the heavy mass of Braeburn’s bed of a belly, he gave the well-endowed stallion’s endowment a few tugs. “Too interested in mares and not the hunks right in front of you.”
“So y’all ~mmph~ y’all did all this to me? To get with me?” Braeburn asked, both voice and body quaking from Greased’s groping and prodding hooves.
“I did~” Greased said with a soft hum that reverberated through Braeburn’s belly. “And I’ll reverse it if you'd like, though it will go against the terms of the contract. My piggy boyfriend has to be of a certain weight and temperament, of course. And, if there’s no contract, then…” Greased’s horn lit with magic as he used it to pull the gift box away from the table.
Surprisingly, Braeburn felt himself conflicted. The rational voice in his head screamed that this was a bad idea, and that nothing about this was safe or sane. But, that voice was quiet, dulled by what felt like hours of food, pleasure, and mental conditioning blared into his head.
As he looked around the restaurant, all he could see was the blissful grins of stallions who were now smaller than him, each locked in the throes of ecstasy, whether it be from food or being balls deep within another stallion. All of these piggy stallions enjoying themselves in the simplest, laziest ways they could, most not having to lift a hoof to receive any of it.
Looking down at Greased, still cradling his ballooned stomach like it was his lover and not the entirety of Braeburn, he felt a twinge of arousal. Feeling the hooves stroking across the wide breadth of his fat, that twinge began to spark and light a flame of lust for the stallion who had gotten him this way in the first place. His shaft surged, the deluge of precum spraying out caught entirely by his overhanging obesity.
And then the smell hit his nose again. The smell of a delicious, homemade apple pie, made from only the finest of Apple Family Apples. Braeburn’s stomach growled long and and loudly, a sound that again threatened to shake the entire restaurant. Shifting his weight back, he brought a hoof to it in an attempt to quell the sound.
This shifting finally rang the death knell for the chair he sat upon, the wood splintering to smithereens as it bounced off of Braeburn’s thickly fattened hide. Both stallions fell to the floor with a yelp, though both stallions’ landings were well cushioned. Braeburn’s by the dense fat that coated him, and Greased by the bed of a belly he now laid upon.
Greased looked down into the now probe Braeburn’s eyes, a teasingly lustful smirk on his lips. “Well? Do we have a deal, or will you be reimbursing me for the chair your wonderfully rotund rear shattered?”
As he asked this, he placed the gift box upon Braeburn’s belly, opening it to finally show the still steaming apple pie. His trump card, finally revealed.
Drool flowed down Braeburn’s chin before he even realized it, his hooves reaching towards it for a moment then, remembering the rules, towards the clipboard and pen he continued to be tempted with.
Quickly signing his name in a loose, messy print Braeburn happily leaned in to grab his well-deserved treat.
Only to get it pulled away from him again, a coy smile on Greased’s face. “Oh, and who said you get to feed yourself? You’re my little piggystud now, so I’ll take the liberty of feeding it to you.” Using his magic, he cut the pie into eight equal slices, then took one to hold in front of Braeburn’s face. “Now open wide, and maybe I’ll let you lick the tin clean.”
Opening his mouth wide, Braeburn relaxed against the ground beneath him. A lazy smile formed at the corners of his mouth as he laid back, ready to let the small stallion take over for him.