>"Uuuurrrgh...A-Anon..."
>Lyra's groans of distress faintly reach your ears through the many wonderful layers of your minty waifu's plentiful belly rolls, under which you were currently smothered and being, as one might say, "of service."
>As your monstrous mare continues to groan deeply, you decide to pull yourself out from under her heavenly flab and see what was the matter.
>Her sweaty, slicked-up fur glides effortlessly over your own well-lubricated skin, sending shudders of pleasure up your spine.
>Finally your head pops free, the immediate rush of cooler air most welcome on your flushed cheeks as you suck it down eagerly.
>Glancing up at her face, your feel yourself harden impossibly further as you gaze upon your prized mare. 
>Originally, Lyra was just like all the other mares in town, lithe but still curvy, spry but still willing to be indulged a bit.
>And indulged she has been.
>You can't remember the last time you had weighed your waifu, mostly because you stopped being able to find scales that wouldn't simply shatter under her enormous girth.
>Her face was cuter than ever, tennis ball-sized chubby cheeks squishing adorably, flushed red with her arousal.
>Her neck had long since ceased to exist, now hopelessly enveloped in rolls that are also no long visible beneath the mound that is her chest fat.
>Her forelegs remind you of two hams joined together, so thick around that she barely has any mobility left in them.
>Her hindlegs fared no better, and in fact were even more hopelessly immobile, spread incredibly apart by her belly yet still touching all the way to her knees.
>Her luscious flank was like a pair of minty green boulders, her harp cutie mark so large you could easily curl up inside of it.
>And finally was her gut...and oh what a gut it was. 
>Made up of three main folds, it was so large Lyra had long since lost the ability to walk.
>Lying on her back, her belly reached twice as far up as her hooves, and was just as wide as her flanks.
>It was so large and full, it looked like you could fit three of yourself inside of it.
>And that was while it was empty.
>When it was full, truly, properly filled, it was more than double that size.
>And right now, as you bite your lower lip ogling her massive form, you were pretty sure she was well past her previous record.
"Something wrong, love?" >you coo lovingly as you stare up at her, taking a moment to enjoy the chocolate stains covering her chubby cheeks.
>As your eyes travel lower, you lick your lips, noticing how the dark brown begins to mix with the other colors and remnants of her feast, running all the way down her chest and well onto the upper hemisphere of her belly.
>Your waifu sure was a messy eater when she got excited.
>"Uff...huff...puff...n-no more...'m f-full..." she managed between pants, her breaths short and shallow as her lungs were pinched between her layers of flab and full, full tummy.
>Her eyes were lidded as she struggled to fight off the intoxicating mix of fatigue, pain, and pleasure coursing through her titanic body.
>Your eyes shift to the table sitting beside the groaning, steel-enforced bedframe that currently had the unfortunate task of holding up your several-hundred-pound waifu.
>The pitcher that once contained the five-gallon chocolate milkshake that you made her for dessert (full fat, of course) was sitting there next to the ruins of the feast before it, considerably drained but still about one-third full.
"Full? But sweetie, you still have some milkshake left! Don't you want to be the biggest, fattest, FULLEST mare of all time?!" you reply, taking advantage of her new deepest fantasy.
>Her face flushed an even deeper red as her breathing grew even shallower, her mind and her body engaged in the ultimate battle for control as her eyes flicked from the milkshake to her tummy and back again.
>You had no doubt that she was full after all she'd eaten.
>Ten extra-large pizzas, two dozen hayburgers, a whole bag's worth of mashed potatoes with all the trimmings, five apple pies and a whole barrel of Sweet Apple Acres' cider was enough to split most ponies wide open.
>But Lyra was not most ponies.
>And you were sure you could coax just that little bit more in.
>As if to voice its own opinion, a deep, rumbling groan churned its way up from the depths of Lyra's guts, the surface of her stomach vibrating visibly.
>A second groan escaped Lyra's mouth, this one a combination of pain and need.
>Her mind giving in to the haze, she simply laid back, handing complete control of the situation over to you.
>Grinning madly, you stride over to the table and grasp the not-empty pitcher eagerly.
>Moving to stand next to her head, you gently bring the pitcher up to her gaping mouth.
>As the cool glass brushes her lips, she shudders a bit and again tries to protest.
>"N-no...can't...f-f-full..." she weakly stammers out.
"Dearest, we've talking about this already," you reply sweetly as you begin to tilt the pitcher forwards.
"I don't take 'no' for an answer."
>Lyra lets out a lengthy groan as the smooth mixture enters her mouth, but she obediently begins to gulp it down at a slow, but steady, pace.
>"Gulp...gulp...ulp...ulp..."
>You missed the days where you could watch her throat undulate with every swallow; such motions had long been hidden by her massive chest rolls.
>But you could still listen.
>Steadily, the pitcher drained, Lyra continuing to groan lowly as she grew fuller and fuller, pushing that ever-elusive limit.
>After just a few minutes, the last drops disappeared, and your waifu gulped with finality.
"There, see? All gone! That wasn't so bad now, was it?"
>Lyra could only let out a loud, anguished moan in response, only to be cut off by a much louder, deeper grumble from her belly, her flab rumbling gently in distress.
>"Uuuhhh...t-too much...s-so full..."
>You are about to reply but she suddenly gasps sharply, the previous deep rumbling turning into a furious roar, her insides quaking and churning violently.
>"Ooooooohh!! G-Gonna...b-bust..."
>You roll your eyes at her theatrics, the ever-increasing chorus of her gastric distress like music to your ears. 
>That mare of yours...she KNOWS this gets you all hot and bothered!
"Oh quit your bellyaching, I've got you well taken care of," you reply with a smirk, knowing full well what you now must do.
>Returning to your previous 'worksite', instead of diving under the impossibly heavy, taut belly, you instead hoist yourself up on her thighs, straddling her titanic tummy with all four of your limbs.
>Starting slowly but quickly picking up intensity, you begin to vigorously rub, stroke, press, and knead the massive, quivering boulder before you, stretching yourself as far as possible but still not even close to reaching halfway around.
>As her moans of agony slowly morph into gasps of pleasure, you feel yourself getting more and more into your task, beginning to thrust powerfully into the underside of her belly, its contents sloshing and glunking softly as it struggles to contain its meal.
>A low rumbling begins to build in her gut.
>Hearing the sounds of your imminent success, you pick up your pace.
>Your massive waifu's breaths become shallower and shallower, until finally...
>"BBBBUUUUUUURRRRRRUUUUUURRRRRAAAAAPPPPTTT!!!"
>A large pocket of gas escapes Lyra's gaping maw explosively, shaking the very air around you with its intensity before tapering off and reverberating at a delightfully low frequency.
>The belch lasts a good several seconds before ending, leaving your ears ringing, but your waifu only has time to take another shuddering intake of air before another, equally powerful burp rips free right on the heels of the first.
>"UUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPP!!!"
>So powerful are her expulsions that droplets of saliva spray from her mouth, soaking the upper swell of her tummy, the monstrous mare unable and, ultimately, unwilling to do anything to prevent further dirtying her filthy, sweaty self.
>Sensing the end of this round of relief, you slow your attentions dramatically, giving your mare some well-needed time to breathe deeply, gasping for fresh air.
>Suddenly, another ripple runs through her insides, this time heading lower for the other end.
>As it passes over your pelvic area, you shudder as you nearly lose yourself, but manage to hold on and continue squeezing and shaking her colossal gut, trying to get every last bit of gas out.
>You feel her tail swish excitedly against your back, heralding the arrival of a new release:
>"FFFFFFFFPPPPPPPBPBBBPPPPRRRRRRRRbbbbbbbrrrrrrtttt!!"
>A loud trumpeting fart explodes from her behind, the dense gas quickly welling up about you and even managing to dampen and stain the insides of her thighs just a bit.
>You wrinkle your nose slightly at the smell but you are mostly immune to the effects of your waifu's releases by now.
>A worthy sacrifice to take good care of your beloved waifu.
>Your ministrations continue for another ten minutes more or so, powerful belches and farts blasting free with equal intensity and number, the room steadily heating up with the amount of hot gas rising to the ceiling.
>Something else is heating up as well.
>You are now practically throwing yourself at her belly, actually feeling yourself moving forward and then backwards slightly with the power of your thrusts.
>Hearing and feeling one last gurgle build up, you know that it is time for the grand finale.
>Leaning forward as far as you can, and grunting with the strain, you reach out and squeeze as much as you can as hard as you can, aiming to force all that's left out in one mighty blow.
>Your eyes widen with surprise as your hands make contact with the greasy remains of her feast smeared across the upper half of her belly.
>But that only makes you want her more.
>Squeezing for all you're worth, the final, deep rumbling builds to a crescendo before her muzzle finally opens and she lets loose.
>"BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPT!!"
>The mammoth belch lasts a good fifteen seconds, nearly all other senses being drowned out by the auditory overload.
>About halfway through, you feel the massive thighs beneath you clench and then shudder, signalling her release as her fatty folds vibrate against herself.
>Not a moment afterwards do you too give in, groaning in pure pleasure as you give the lower swell of her gut a temporary new paint job.
>As the massive belch tapers off, you begin to lean back, allowing your messy hands to gently roam and stroke the massive expanse of belly, the both of you completely uncaring about the chocolatey, tomatoey, appley handprint stains you were leaving all over.
>Her washday wasn't for another week and a half, so why bother taking care of it now?
>One of you would probably enjoy the remains later anyways.
>But now, utterly spent, you collapse backwards onto the bed, silently patting yourself on the back for upgrading to a custom-built twelve-foot bed.
>With the distressed rumbling no more than the occasional content gurgle, the only real sounds in the room are both your heaving breaths, slowly becoming more normal as you recover from your exertions.
>Looking up, you grin as you see the crest of your waifu's stomach gently brushing the ceiling, a solid eight feet above the mattress you lay on.
>If you hadn't just relieved yourself, you definitely would've right there with that view.
>Sighing contentedly, you feel your eyelids begin to flutter closed as the tendrils of sleep slowly began to overtake you.
"Good night, love," you murmur gently. 
>But of course, the only response you get is a soft snore, your waifu completely exhausted from her ordeal.
>Smiling to yourself, you begin to drift off, dreaming of the massive breakfast you would prepare tomorrow morning for your beloved.
>Tomorrow was going to be another perfect day taking care of your waifu, and you could not wait to get started.