Hayburgers & Hardware
Tags: AnonXTwilight, Feederism, Fat, Clop
> "And I just don't understand how this could have happened..."
> You are Rarity, fashion pony, with a dozen pins in between your lips and a piece of chalk floating in the air as you try to deal with your current customer, Twilight Sparkle
> The purple princess is standing on your costuming pedestal, wearing one of the formal ball gowns you made her a little while back
> But instead of the fabric gathering nicely and flowing freely, it's stretched taut across her body
> It's more than a little obvious that she's put on quite a bit of weight
> You're chalking the seams where they need to be pulled apart, then pinning where they need to go instead
> Luckily, you think you can salvage the dress.
> Twilight puts her hoof up to her chin
> "... I've been running a few magical experiments lately..."
> This would be a lot easier if she would stop moving around
> You try to speak with the pins still between your lips
"Darwing, do wou wuppwose wou cwould-"
> You fail to get her attention, and she stomps her hoof back down in excitement
> "... Maybe one of my recent spells backfired and shrunk my clothes!"
"Twiwight, dwon't wou wink-"
> "... or even worse, what if I accidentally made myself giant-size! Oh no, that would be awful! Quickly, where's a measuring tape?!"
> The purple alicorn casts her gaze around the room and, spying your measuring tape, seizes it in her magic
> Whipping it over, she he twists her neck around and starts to clumsily measure herself, muttering mathematical formulas
> You roll your eyes and sigh, then spit the pins back into their cup so that you can make yourself heard
"Really, Twilight, you're blowing this all out of proportion"
> She frowns
> "Blowing this out of proportion? *I'm* out of proportion! This dress fit just two months ago!"
> You adopt the detached, aloof air of a proper couturier
"It certainly did, and very well if I do say so myself, but darling, please, you're not under any magic spell, you've just gained a little weight, that's all."
> "But *how*? There's no rational explanation!"
> Oh, yes there is, but you can't just come out and say it -- that would be a terrible faux pas.
"Dearest, can't you think of *anything* that's changed between now and two months ago?"
> She starts to ponder...
> "... hmmm, no that's the same, ..."
> "... err, well no, we still ..."
> "... uh, except that wouldn't, uh... "
"Has your diet changed, perhaps?"
> "Well, no, I still have breakfast with Spike, on Mondays it's-"
> She starts rattling off her entire weekly culinary itinerary, but she actually manages to skip over the *one* thing you know has changed
> "-and every three Thursdays out of seven we have Caesar salad, but not if we've had casserole the immediate previous Wednesday-"
> That's it, it's time for the Element of Generosity to be generous with the truth.
"Twilight, what about Anon?"
> She stops mid-sentence and stares blankly at you
> "What about Anon?"
> She still doesn't see it.
"Haven't you been visiting his shop rather often?"
> "Well, of course! He's been showing me all his interesting tools and machines! It's fascinating stuff; I think I've been there every single day since he opened up!"
> Anon's shop was called "Hayburgers and Hardware".
> The way he put it, if Ponyville could have a single store that sold quills and sofas, it could have one that sold both food and construction hardware.
> Nails & screws didn't really go along with hayburgers & fries, but then again, neither did the aforementioned quills and sofas
> 'At least my store's name got alliteration going for it', he'd joked
> To his credit, he'd been making both sides of the business work very well
"And haven't you been *eating* lunch there, despite your well-planned schedule?"
> "I, uh... Well, I suppose I have."
"Well, those hayburgers are hardly healthy, dear."
> "But they're soooooo delicious! And, I *swear*, I always go in thinking 'No, I've had lunch, I don't need a cheese double hayburger with fries', but somehow Anon always talks me into having one..."
> Suddenly embarrassed, she starts awkwardly scratching the back of her head
> "... or two, or three.... I don't know how he does it."
"You can hardly blame this on *him*, Twilight, unless he's actually forcing food down your throat."
> "I suppose you're right. I hate to turn him down, though. He's so... friendly, I guess. Maybe it's a kind of magic?"
> You chortle
"Only if a charming personality is a spell."
> Anon was an interesting specimen. Funny, witty, friendly, and with a lovely smile...
> He wasn't really your type -- he liked to dress casually, and he wasn't terribly interested in *haute* *societé* -- but he was a bit of a flirt, so you'd had a few amusing back-and-forth conversations
> Twilight interrupted your train of thought
> "It's not like with Pinkie and sweets -- Anon doesn't gorge himself. It seems as if he just really likes making sure ponies get enough to eat."
> You cover your mouth and start to giggle at that comment.
"Making sure *mares* get enough to eat, perhaps."
> Oh, dear. She really does need it spelled out for her.
> Adjusting the dress can wait; your friend needs help, first.
> You shake your head and retire over to your sofa, lounging comfortably as you wave a hesitant Princess over
"Oh, mon cheri, isn't it obvious?"
> She joins you on the sofa, and as she sits you can see just how much her belly has grown, wrapped tightly by the silk dress
> How to put this delicately?
"... Well, let's just say I think he... *enjoys* seeing mares with a healthy appetite."
> Twilight tilts her head in confusion
> "Enjoys... how?"
"Well, it's a sort of..."
> You grin awkwardly.
> This is admittedly just speculation on your part
> Well-founded speculation, to be sure, but it's not as if you have this from the colt's own mouth
> "A *fetish*? I, uhhh-Sorry, Rarity, can you explain it a little better?"
"Certainly, Twilight, but, please, realize that I'm fairly certain I'm correct, but I haven't heard this from Anon's own mouth, you understand?"
> The Princess of Magic seems aghast
> "You're only speculating? Rarity, I hope you're not spreading rumours!"
> That put a bee right in your bonnet, so you snap at her in response
"It's not a rumour! This isn't *gossip*, Twilight! I'm not going around telling everyone this!"
> You manage to compose yourself again
"I'm only telling you my extremely well-founded suspicion because it happens to be quite relevant at the moment. Now, look..."
> You put your hooves out in front of you and start to explain
> Twilight isn't completely ignorant of sexual matters, but this still feels a little like you're talking to a young filly.
"Certain colts derive a certain kind of pleasure from watching a mare indulge herself. Some even like to *encourage* mares to do so. Such colts are particularly attracted to mares with a large appetite. The term for such colts is 'feeder', and the mares who indulge their passions are 'feedees'."
> Your student/client isn't exactly slack-jawed and wide-eyed, but it's clear this is quite a revelation for her.
> "And so these 'feeders'... *force* mares to eat?"
"Force! Heavens, no -- not unless they're sick and twisted, and I don't have any reason to think that notre cher ami Anon is some kind of... 'force-feeder'."
> The princess of magic seems to be dazed, and she gets a strange look on her face, turning away from you.
"*All* I'm trying to say is that I'm fairly certain Anon is such a colt, so if you've been visiting him daily, and if he's been persistent in getting you to eat, well, that's just him exercising his rather particular tastes."
> She just stares off. Did you break her?
"And, incidentally, that's why your dress no longer fits. But I'm happy to fix it for you, so don't concern yourself about it. Though you should be a little more firm with Anon if you want to avoid him charming you into indulging in a second lunch."
> Be Twilight
> You came to Rarity's Boutique for a fixed dress, but instead you're getting hit by knowledge of a strange sexual fetish.
> According to Rarity, Anon was a 'feeder'
> All those times you'd gone and visited him, and he'd happily showed you his lathe, his forge, how he fashioned nails or screws or bolts
> All those times he'd so clearly and eloquently explained so many interesting facts about construction and mechanics
> All those times he'd cheerfully offered you one of his famous cheese double hayburgers, with a large fries
> All of those lunch hours with the delicious, mouth-watering smell coming wafting over from Anon's grill
> 'There you are! Wonderful day for a hayburger; what do you say?'
> 'Can I tempt you with a new sauce that I'm *experimenting* with?'
> 'Lunch hour is over and I've got this lovely batch of leftover fries going straight to the trash, unless you're interested?'
> 'You're wasting away in that crystal tower, Twilight, have another one - I insist!'
> 'I'm calling this one the Nightmare Mooburger -- It's got three kinds of cheese! Care to be my first customer?'
> You'd said yes every time.
> Reluctantly at first, but now it was almost like an addiction!
> As a chef, Anon didn't have a very large and varied repertoire, but he was a masterful hayburger hawker
> You had to admit, by now you were going over there for the burgers first and the hands-on engineering tutorials second
> And as a natural result, you'd put on a lot of weight. Eighteen-and-a-half pounds, by your laboratory's hyper-accurate scale
> Part of you had to sigh with relief: at least it wasn't some haywire magic spell or other disaster.
> It was just your own apparent lack of self-control.
> Case in point: just thinking about Anon's hayburgers and you'd already started salivating
> You brushed a hoof against your mouth to wipe away the inadvertent slobber.
> You look over at Rarity; she was still waiting on you with the same awkward smile a parent might wear when explaining where baby ponies come from to a foal
"How certain are you about Anon's... fetish?"
> Rarity tilted her head to one side and puckered her lower lip
> "Ah, let's say... eighty percent? Perhaps even ninety? He's quite flirtatious, you know, and I've noticed he gets especially so when food is involved. And I know the type."
> You cock an eyebrow
> "Yes, I belong to a little *ahem* social club. Among other activities, we often discuss such topics."
> Oh, so she's met a few, then - and you had a pretty good idea where.
"This social club wouldn't happen to be held in that basement room marked 'Private - No Admittance', would it?"
> Rarity smirks and arches her eyes, the epitome of calm
> "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
> If only she had a little fan in her hoof, the picture of aloofness would be complete
"All right. I think I understand things. Thank-you for spelling it out for me, Rarity."
> "Any time, Twilight. Just leave the dress and I can get to work."
> You get up and pull off the outfit
> Rarity takes it from you, but there's a look of genuine concern on her face.
> "Might I inquire what you're planning to do about Anon? Oh, and please understand I didn't mean to disparage his character. I think he's a perfectly charming colt."
"I'm not sure, yet."
> You smile awkwardly
"I suppose, whatever I decide to do, I'll probably be back in a couple of months to have that dress altered once again?"
> She titters along with you
> "Haha! Of course, darling! I am always happy to make sure Ponyville's Princess looks her very best! *Mwah*!"
> You left Rarity's boutique minus one less dress in your saddlebag and plus one big question in your head
> What to do about Anon?
> At least he seemed to have Rarity's general approval, so it's not as if he was some kind of... sexual predator
> And she'd made it clear that what you decided to do with your own body was up to you.
> As for his particular sexual tastes, well...
> ... there might just be a book about this you could look up later, in the library...
> A Survey of Sexual Fetishes in Earth Ponies Aged 18-65
> It wasn't a book after all, but it *was* a very scholarly article in the Journal of Psychoponology
> Well, with such a fine work, how could you do anything but read the whole thing?
> That might have been a mistake, even for a speedy reader like you, considering the article was over two *hundred* pages long
> Who knew there were so many different kinds of sexual fantasies!
> A few felt genuinely revolting, but most were simply confusing -- did ponies really get off on these things?
> I mean, *licking* *hooves*? Colt-domination? *Diapers*? Fillies and foals?!?
> Well, there were a lot of ponies, you supposed.
> The authors had conducted interviews, surveys, statistical analyses and counter-analyses
> As the hour grew late, your head started to swim with numbers and words
> It was long past bedtime when you were finally done with the article and, more importantly, felt able to take a step back and think about how the facts in the journal applied to *you*.
> But on that subject, you found yourself drawing a complete blank.
> There was also the additional fact that Anon was *not* an Earth Pony
> Might as well sleep on it
> You settled in to bed, but your mind kept racing
> So Anon was a feeder -- and, armed with the scientific knowledge from the article, you could see it for yourself
> Looking back, it was all so obvious now
> The way he would not just give you food, but join you at the table while you ate
> When he was working or explaining things, he might get distracted by goings-on around him
> But while you were eating a hayburger, then you had his full and undivided attention
> It hadn't felt creepy at the time, and it still didn't in retrospect.
> He'd been nothing but polite, usually engaging in light conversation.
> He'd just been... interested.
> *Very* interested
> And when you'd agreed to have a second, or even a third...
> Yes, he'd been hanging on your every bite, hadn't he?
> And if you didn't go for the extra helping, he'd even pout a bit!
> But when you did, he'd accommodated your every need
> Extra napkins to wipe your face? Another drink to wash it down? Never a problem for Princes Twilight when she's at 'Hayburgers and Hardware'
> He'd even laughed and fanned you with the menu when you complained of the heat today.
> ... while you were downing your third hayburger
> Come to think of it, he'd praised you when you managed to finish the huge meal!
> And when you'd felt too bloated to waddle into his workshop for another lesson in steel metallurgy, he'd even chuckled and offered to pick you up and carry you!
> Always with a pleasant smile on his face
> And you'd agreed, eager to just get out of the beating sun!
> He'd slung you over his shoulder, lifting you around the torso with those surprisingly strong hands of his...
> Lying in bed, you licked your lips
> Those were some delicious hayburgers today, weren't they?
> They'd been grilled *just* right - seared on the outside and juicy on the inside
> Always a fresh bun, lightly toasted with sesame or poppy seeds
> Cheese decadently oozing out between the layers
> A little mayonnaise, a little ketchup, a little mustard
> Garnished with a farm-fresh tomato slice and a crisp cold lettuce leaf
> Turning over, you bit your lower lip
> Fries fresh out the burbling, crackling oil
> Salty, greasy goodness, all of it
> There was something particularly satisfying about it, wasn't there?
> Not just the delight of eating, but the bliss of being full
> You remember the way you had felt bloated and heavy, but content
> You started to feel unusually warm underneath the bedsheets
> Earlier, when Anon had picked you up, he'd been careful to grip you by your chest rather than your painfully packed paunch
> But now you started to imagine him running his fingers delicately over your belly
> Rubbing, caressing, teasing and lightly squeezing
> Is that what he was really into? The book had said he might be. It was a related fetish
> But you felt empty, now
> You'd had dinner earlier tonight, of course, but you hadn't stuffed yourself
> What if Anon had been there?
> Would he have encouraged you to have seconds? Even thirds?
> How full would you have allowed him to make you?
> Your breathing became heavy just thinking about it
> He'd fostered your hayburger 'addiction'
> If only he knew about your sweet tooth, too.
> What if he'd suggested a dessert after those three burgers and that enormous plate of fries?
> Despite your fullness, would you have been able to say no?
> What if he'd shown up at your palace in the evening, a box of pastries from Sugarcube Corner under his arm?
> Would you have answered the door with a smile on your face?
> Or instead a hungry grin?
> What if he was here right now?
> You reach a hoof down beneath your legs as the fantasy starts to materialize in your mind
> You're lounging sideways on the divan
> Anon is sitting on the ground, facing you
> Hovering in the air, surrounded by a purple aura, is a hayburger
> Five empty plates are stacked on the table beside you
"Anon, I'm full"
> "Come on, Twilight, I bet you can finish one more."
> Your belly aches, gurgling away at the other four meals inside of you
"No, my tummy is completely stuffed."
> Your breathing is laboured, but you're deliberately pouting. You can eat the burger, you know you can.
> But you want him to work for it
> As if reading your mind, he reaches one hand up and starts to caress your bloated abdomen
> His fingers delicately trace along your fur
> They skip over a little hill where a roll of fat has started to form, and then he comes back and gently squeezes it
> It feels wonderful
> "Let me give you a hand."
> You let him rub you for a little while longer before you answer
> He reaches up and grabs the burger in mid-air. You release your magic hold on it and roll onto your back
> Anon gets up on his knees and bends over you
> Your mouth hangs just barely open, as if you don't want the proffered meal
> But you do
> Oh, Celestia, how you do
> But you want to feel him *make* you want it.
> "You've got to open wider than that. It's a big burger."
> You squirm your hips, grinding your legs together
"I don't know if it'll fit."
> His hand squeezes and softly jiggles your belly
> With even just this little bit of stimulation, it wobbles back and forth of its own accord
> "It'll fit. You're a big little pony."
> As he lowers the hayburger, you close your eyes and open your mouth
> You take one bite, then another, then another
> In just a few seconds, it's all gone
> But some of its grease and cheese are still on Anon's hand
> Opening your eyes, you look up at Anon while you suck on each of his fingers in turn
> There's such a mix of emotions on his face: excitement, awe, ...and lust
> You lick your lips
> Your gut burbles contentedly
"My belly is still hungry"
> Now both of his hands are attending to your body
> "I don't have any more food, Twilight. You ate it all up."
> He bends over and starts to kiss your tummy
"I need more. I'm not full yet."
> You plead as if helpless, but you place one hoof on Anon's head, holding it against your belly, while the other wanders over to his body
> There's a stiff sausage underneath his pants
> The next course
> And you've got such a wet place to put it
> As Anon slowly rolls you over onto your chest, you see him place one final platter down in front of your
> It's four enormous cupcakes, already unwrapped
> Behind you, you can hear him undress
> Greedily, you reach out and pull the plate towards you
> The first bite of dessert is already in your mouth when you feel Anon grab your hips and start to push into you
> "I need you to finish that plate, Twilight."
> Your reply is muffled by your stuffed cheeks
"I don't know if I can. There's so many of them. My belly's not big enough... yet."
> He grunts as he wraps his arms around you, taking it slowly at first
> "Your belly is fantastic."
> Another cupcake disappears inside of you
"It needs to be so much *bigger*."
> You hear him grunt behind you
> He quickens his pace
> He's starting to lose his composure
> So are you. The third cupcake languishes halfway inside your mouth as you moan through it
> The fetish is starting to disintegrate in the fires of sexual passion, and your belly is starting to be painfully tossed by his energetic pounding
> It hurts, but it feels so good
> You clench shut your eyes, breathing quickly through your nose
> You're stuffed all over
> "Finish *ngh* the cupcake for me... *huff* Please, Twilight..."
> Now he's the one pleading, but he's not faking it
> He *needs* you to finish or else he won't
> You chew it once, twice.
> It's a little difficult to focus on eating while Anon is rutting the Tartarus out of you
> You tilt your head back, and Anon reaches out a hand, stroking the back of your neck
> The third cupcake is now inside of you
> "The last one, please. I'm so close."
> It almost feels like his member is swollen up with the desperation to explode
> But you're not quite done yet
> He just needs a little more encouragement
"I'm saving that--NGGGH--one for dessert."
> With a sudden fury, his hands move to seize your hips, and he lifts you up just that final inch
> He pounds into you
> The angle is just right
> The depth is just right
> The feeling is just right
> Everything is just right
"Agnhhh! Agnnnhhh! AHHHHHHHHHHH!"
> With your final ecstatic moan, you glomp down on the cupcake and finish it in a single bite
> A loud groan behind you signals the creamy explosion inside of you
> The fantasy is over
> You're back in bed, alone
> Except now the sheets are wet
> Panting and sweating, you are a dishevelled, flustered Princess of Friendship
> You stagger to your hooves and slowly trot off to the bathroom for a glass of water
> And maybe a quick sponging
> That was probably the hottest, wettest fantasy you've ever had
> So, apparently, you are very much into the idea of this fetish
> The question was how into it -- and how into *you* -- Anon really was
> Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you knew what you had to do
> You had a hypothesis
> Starting tomorrow, it was time to test it.