She let loose a muffled, lethargic moan. She was incapable of much else by now; movement had been lost many hours ago when her hooves had first left the ground, but by now even her horseshoes were barely visible past the bulges of fat flowing from her legs.
Kim knew that Sundae liked his mares large, but it had been twelve hours now since she consented to his wish to make her as large as he desired her. He had fed her relentlessly since, filling her maw with the butter and grease he insisted would make her ’just right’. Even as her flanks flourished and barrel bulged, rolls smothering her wings, he had continued to feed her, murring eagerly as he groped her billowing rolls. She groaned breathlessly with each squeeze, struggling as her organs were squeezed by the blubber that was now dominating her body.
Her cutie mark had stretched with her sides, the pear-shaped pony growing increasingly more bottom heavy as her body was augmented with ton after ton of fat; her thick, flabby buttocks mooned anyone who might’ve looked her way, displaying her ribboned scroll like a perversely distorted billboard for all to see. Her rump would have risen even higher if not for the floorboards currently buckling beneath it.
Obesity defined her. A never-ending stream of fat filled out her flesh, bringing with it a stomach pushing ten feet wide and pocked with cellulite. It nestled itself comfortably between her forehooves—which were large enough to smother a hefty stallion—and her flanks—which were at least triple the size—seemingly content to spend the rest of time pinning her to this spot.
She mumbled through the feeding, passing an incomprehensible comment about how little she could see by now. Past the thickened muzzle, persistently stuffed cheeks and encroaching neck rolls she had been reduced to a mere squint, barely able to identify Sundae’s blurry outline as his hooves pushed more and more into her maw. Warm, melted fat streamed down her chins, the lowest of which (forth? fifth?) nearly touched the floor, held aloft only by the space already being occupied by six hundred pounds of hooves.
Sundae’s feeding relented for a moment, one of the few brief respites she had been afforded today. His face filled her limited view, feeling his hooves press between her neck rolls as his tongue pushed into her mouth. His tongue swirled—hers was too fat and worn out to even reciprocate—as he held himself steady against her. She was fat. So fat even that it took Sundae, already large himself, to stand on two hooves to even reach her mouth. She barely stifled a moan as he disengaged himself from her, hoof moving aside a roll that had smothered her ear, “I hope you’re ready for dinner, my pudgy princess,” he whispered, tease oozing from his voice.
Kim could only smile in return, she was ready.