A lot of stories I start never receive an ending, but why let all those lovely paragraphs go to waste, never once seeing the light of day outside of my Dropbox folder? These are those lovely paragraphs.

• Unnamed story (December 2013)
• The Bubblebutt Mare (December 2013)
• Demon (December 2013)
• Pooltoy (March 2014)
• Unnamed story (April 2014)
• Inbox (September 2014)
• Unnamed story (September 2014)
• Unnamed story (January 2015)
• Filth (February 2015)

Unnamed story (December 2013)

Jakob kept his eyes to the floor as Principal Strickland walked silently around him, keen to avoid eye-contact with his superior. He didn’t know why he had been called into the office, he didn’t even have an idea, but he doubted it was good. Being called into the principal’s office was *never* good.

“Head up, back straight Jakob. Now please,”

His strained chair creaked as he complied, coming face to face with Strickland’s piercing gaze, “Do you know why I’ve called you in here this afternoon, Jakob?”

“Is it because I’ve been stealing chicken fingers from the cafeteria because honestly I don’t mean it but if you made the portions just a bit bigger then it would be really great and stuff…” Jakob muttered.

Strickland lowered his eyebrow, “No, but I’ll be sure to take that into consideration. It’s about your grades,”

“Are they too high?” Jakob suggested in the most saccharine tone he could muster. It sounded better in his head.

“Jakob, you have completely and systematically failed every single examination, assignment and homework piece that has been given out so far this year,” he brandished a handful of papers, bloodied with red ink, “you even wrote your name wrong on half of these!”

Jakob mustered a shrug, “It’s the effort that counts though, right?”

“Writing ’x equals pizza pi,’ ’why do I need to know this’ and ’why learn French when the Chinese are going to take over anyway?’ as answers does not equate to any sort of effort, young man. You’re a slacker! You know that? A slacker!” he slammed the papers onto his desk, “it is the opinion of the entire staff that if you have no interest in learning, then we’re not going to teach you. We’re expelling you with immediate effect, please take your things and leave.”

Wordlessly Jakob rose from his seat, grabbed his backpack and made his way to the exit, each plodding step echoing through the school’s empty corridors as he took in the last vestiges of his life there; the sport’s trophies that filled the cabinets, the class photos of years past (in each one he got progressively wider…), the posters promoting everything from healthy eating to solid literacy. Quietly he hooked his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the doors.

The Bubblebutt Mare (December 2013)

“And this will definitely work, right?”

The chubby pegasus mare looked intently at the clear, viscous liquid filling the beaker before her. Her suspicions were justified – it’s not as if backstreet sales-stallions had the best reputation.

“It is perfect for your needs,” the grey stallion assured her, “one sip in the morning and one in the evening, I guarantee it,”

She looked around cautiously, making sure no one saw the transaction as she passed a good 30 bits over for the beaker. She stashed it into her saddlebag and trotted away without so much as a glance back.

The mare was Derpy. Her body curved smoothly from her narrow chest to her chubby barrel and back further still to her plump, luscious flanks. The potion now rattling against her side was intended to make the latter feature all the more prominent; to ultimately fulfil her enraptured desire for a rump to dominate all else.

That evening she took a gulp of the potion and settled into a blissful slumber, purring softly as she dreamed of butts as big as barns.

Demon (December 2013)

Swiftly the demon scooped Marley up in his gigantic hand, his slithering tongue licking across his teeth as he cast upon her a powerful magic she could not identify. Sugary sweetness flooded her tastebuds and not a moment later a button pinged from her blouse.

The others looked down in horror from their hanging cells as Marley swelled rapidly below them. Her clothes shredded and tore away quickly, exposing her fuzzy body as it blorped outwards over the demon’s hand. Her thighs turned to lumbering tree trunks of fat, her rump bulging into blubbery beach balls that sagged as low as her rapidly growing gut. The demon cackled with perverse pleasure as he rubbed a teasing claw over her stuffed stomach, letting her feel the immense pressure he was forcing on her body.

Pooltoy (March 2014)

“what is this?”
“What is what?”
“the parcel you sent me”
“Oooh! It finally arrived! ^^”

Unnamed story (April 2014)

I purred softly as she loomed over me, her silky red stomach brushing over my matte grey middle. Without really thinking I leant forward, planting a wet kiss onto her cheek. She giggled and fed me another strawberry.

“I’m fuuuuuuulll~” I said in my most exaggerated whimper, purposefully rubbing a hoof against my bloated tummy, trying to silence the purr of pleasure before it left my throat, “are we done yeeeeeet~?”

She had been doing this for a few hours now; feeding me fruits and bite-sized delicacies to add to my already ponderous paunch, gently massaging my stuffed gut when I complained I could take no more, and blowing raspberries into the soft flesh whenever the fancy took her—eliciting an uncontrollable childlike giggle from myself.

She tugged my leash softly, bringing my face to within an inch of hers, “You’re not as big as in those pictures you like,”

The burning from my cheeks could have boiled a kettle. I forced a seductive tone however, breathing in so my belly puffed out against her, “Then why aren’t I already?”

She laughed almost manically, another strawberry passing my lips, as she explained in intricate detail the logistics of finding that much food and getting it all into my mouth. You’d think she had already planned this all out. “But no,” she whispered, planting a lick on my muzzle, “just some snacks for now,”

I silently wondered how the buffet she had slowly been feeding me constituted a snack. Snacks don’t make my barrel sag so heavily; snacks don’t make me so full; nor fill me with such lethargy that I wouldn’t dare move from under her. Not that I’m complaining, I do like those pictures…

I could feel my cheeks burn as red as her coat just from the thought of it. She smirked. She knew what I was thinking; of being a plush, overstuffed pony, over-encumbered by her generous hooves, dependent on her for everything… That was a way off yet, this is just a snack after all.

The leash was tugged upwards again, her muzzle pressed against mine as her tongue pierced my lips, my tongue probing her maw in return as they moved in an uncoordinated waltz with one another.

Inbox (September 2014)

Kim sat comfortably in front of her computer, her hoof idly resting on the control stick that let her navigate this newfangled “nationwide net” that had become all the rage recently. She didn’t really understand it, but the chubby grey mare was committed to getting to grips with all that was new. She wouldn’t get left in the “digital dust” (whatever that is). She had even started an “electronic mail” where she could write to people without going through the postal network!

Unnamed story (September 2014)

My once trim barrel is no more. It’s taken a few weeks of trying, eating more than any mare should, but I’ve put on a pleasant bit of weight. A nice round paunch that wobbles between my legs when I walk, like a full saddle pack if it were attached to my front.

A few of the ponies at work seem convinced that I’m carrying foals, and I’ve been humouring them for the time being. I don’t want them to know my real intentions just yet.

Last night I intended myself to gorge. Settling down into my choicest of beanbags, I placed a large tub of this gorgeous Grecian ice cream into my feedbag (a recent purchase) and buried myself in a good book. I had almost finished six tubs by the time the book was over, and although I felt quite contentedly stuffed, I committed to finish a seventh before bed. By the end my tummy was quite happily pressing against my inner legs, making it a little harder to trot, but trot along I did, straight into the duvets!

Unnamed story (January 2015)

The swollen mare panted softly as she dragged herself forwards, failing to hide the arousal burning through her body from the hundreds of pounds of fat that currently engulfed her body. Her relatively diminutive wings stood erect, quivering lightly in the breeze as she determinedly waddled in a wide circle. It was several minutes before she completed a single circuit.

Filth (February 2015)

Minh laid back into his bed as he picked up the last of the cakes that had been delivered to him: an intricate three-tiered masterpiece composed of four types of chocolate, with gentle curves and subtle decorations that dramatically spoke of the competency of the person who had decorated it. The aesthetic beauty of the confection just made it all the more satisfying when he shoved his face into it.

The icing splattered across his chins, the insides crumbling into spongy soft goodness that scattered around his front. What little of the twenty-second cake of the day made it into his mouth was noisily disposed of, destined to be added to the otter’s two-dozen tons of filthy bloat.

His lips smacked loudly as he licked his sausage-like fingers clean, almost immediately following this act with a grumbling belch, depositing a fresh layer of spittle across his stomach and chest.