Other ponies, even fatter than them (or one rea...
Equestria Invading
Chapter 15
"*URP*...mmmmm..."
The cabin of the semi formed a tight cage around Soarin's body, his gut wedged against the dashboard, jam-packed with enough chili fries, triple hay-steak specials and gallons of soda that it peaked into a tall hill that blocked the lower region of his view on the road. One hand held onto the steering wheel while another gently stroked the fur on his tender stomach, his eyes teetering sleepily with a food-drunken smile plastered on his face.
"That was even better than pie..." He mumbled dreamily.
He reached for another bucket of fries from the pile cluttered on his love handle against the door, but a meager rattle coming from within dashed his hopes. A twinge of panic sparked within him and he hopefully battered the cups around for any sign of weight, but there was none.
"Oh..." Devastated, he reached into the cup and plucked out the last fry of his bounty, the sole surviving pillar of his feasting. He took a long, savoring look at the chipotle-covered potato skin before popping it into his mouth, relishing the sweet, yet spicy essence of the fry as long as he could before its crunchy texture was chewed away into nothing.
...and then it was gone.
Nothing of interest or excitement could be seen through the window in front of him. The only thing he could see was the truck driving next to his, where the side doors were torn away so that the yellow flanks of its driver could freely hang out. In the window he could see Spitfire, whose breasts had swollen up so much over the past few weeks that the window in front of her actually bulged up, which could barely attest to the gut he'd seen her heave around nowadays. He could see her toss a french fry into her mouth, along with few full bags on the other side of her.
He also saw a chance.
"HEY!!!" Soarin' channeled his former daredevil lifestyle and swerved his truck against Spitfire's, reaching through her window to grab the fry-holding wrist. "THOSE ARE MINE!!!"
"WHAT THE HAY ARE YOU DOING?!!?" She screamed over the wind.
"I ORDERED THE BARBECUE RANCH FRIES!!! YOU SAID YOU HATED THOSE!!!"
"FAT CHANCE!!! BUZZ OFF!!!"
The two wrestled with one another seven feet over the speeding highway, the sound of metallic shredding grinding behind them as their trailers scraped against one another. The two danced around the road in long, erratic swerves, but the motion shaking them around was barely on their mind as the fries went left or right in their trucks.
That is, until Spitfire felt headlights shining into her eyes. "CAR!!!"
The two jarred apart just in time to avoid a head-on collision, at the expense of the other drivers' hatchback's mirrors disintegrating into a shower of sparks when they slid through the narrow gap supplied. Soarin' barely paid heed, overjoyed that the fries were in his grasp, but was alarmed by three more cars gliding past either side of them, flicking the fry out of the window to be flattened under Spitfire's wheels.
"The hay was that? Are we driving on the..." But Soarin caught and sniffed at a faint, yet infinitely alluring aroma speeding away on the hatchback's heels. "Stop N' Burger...Stop N' Burger! I SMELL STOP IN BURGER!!!"
Immediately, Spitfire's lurched around and spun the other way, the back wheels grinding against the dirt outside the road till she was lined up and sped away. With a determined snort, Soarin spun the wheel around and turned his truck the other way, joining the chase...
The cabin of the semi formed a tight cage around Soarin's body, his gut wedged against the dashboard, jam-packed with enough chili fries, triple hay-steak specials and gallons of soda that it peaked into a tall hill that blocked the lower region of his view on the road. One hand held onto the steering wheel while another gently stroked the fur on his tender stomach, his eyes teetering sleepily with a food-drunken smile plastered on his face.
"That was even better than pie..." He mumbled dreamily.
He reached for another bucket of fries from the pile cluttered on his love handle against the door, but a meager rattle coming from within dashed his hopes. A twinge of panic sparked within him and he hopefully battered the cups around for any sign of weight, but there was none.
"Oh..." Devastated, he reached into the cup and plucked out the last fry of his bounty, the sole surviving pillar of his feasting. He took a long, savoring look at the chipotle-covered potato skin before popping it into his mouth, relishing the sweet, yet spicy essence of the fry as long as he could before its crunchy texture was chewed away into nothing.
...and then it was gone.
Nothing of interest or excitement could be seen through the window in front of him. The only thing he could see was the truck driving next to his, where the side doors were torn away so that the yellow flanks of its driver could freely hang out. In the window he could see Spitfire, whose breasts had swollen up so much over the past few weeks that the window in front of her actually bulged up, which could barely attest to the gut he'd seen her heave around nowadays. He could see her toss a french fry into her mouth, along with few full bags on the other side of her.
He also saw a chance.
"HEY!!!" Soarin' channeled his former daredevil lifestyle and swerved his truck against Spitfire's, reaching through her window to grab the fry-holding wrist. "THOSE ARE MINE!!!"
"WHAT THE HAY ARE YOU DOING?!!?" She screamed over the wind.
"I ORDERED THE BARBECUE RANCH FRIES!!! YOU SAID YOU HATED THOSE!!!"
"FAT CHANCE!!! BUZZ OFF!!!"
The two wrestled with one another seven feet over the speeding highway, the sound of metallic shredding grinding behind them as their trailers scraped against one another. The two danced around the road in long, erratic swerves, but the motion shaking them around was barely on their mind as the fries went left or right in their trucks.
That is, until Spitfire felt headlights shining into her eyes. "CAR!!!"
The two jarred apart just in time to avoid a head-on collision, at the expense of the other drivers' hatchback's mirrors disintegrating into a shower of sparks when they slid through the narrow gap supplied. Soarin' barely paid heed, overjoyed that the fries were in his grasp, but was alarmed by three more cars gliding past either side of them, flicking the fry out of the window to be flattened under Spitfire's wheels.
"The hay was that? Are we driving on the..." But Soarin caught and sniffed at a faint, yet infinitely alluring aroma speeding away on the hatchback's heels. "Stop N' Burger...Stop N' Burger! I SMELL STOP IN BURGER!!!"
Immediately, Spitfire's lurched around and spun the other way, the back wheels grinding against the dirt outside the road till she was lined up and sped away. With a determined snort, Soarin spun the wheel around and turned his truck the other way, joining the chase...
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April 19
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