Prompt: Have blueblood eat cursed food that only makes him hungry for more. The more he eats that fatter and hornier he gets, only stopping to eat to cum every so often from his growing horse cock. A fat and horny anthro with some pretty big moobs.

Blueblood eyed the table appraisingly. “Oho,” he said. “Looks like Auntie Celestia’s forgotten some leftovers.” Princess Celestia’s monthly “binges” were infamous throughout Canterlot, and much of the city considered it a great spectacle when it happened. The sheer amount of food she consumed even outside of her monthly “celebrations” would have still left a normal pony somewhat unsteady on their hooves.

But where had this bounty come from? Blueblood glanced over his shoulder. The table was positively groaning with food, piled high with every kind of delicacy, sweet, and - his snout wrinkled - common pony fare. In any case, it seemed odd that his aunt would leave such a grand amount of food out for anypony to take.

He reached out a hand, his eyes set on a chocolate eclair sitting alone by the edge. Surely she wouldn’t miss one little pastry. Still looking over his shoulder, he raised it to his mouth - almost groaning as the scent of chocolate and fresh cream wafted through his nostrils - and bit down.

From the second that the cream hit his tongue, Blueblood didn’t stand a chance.

Starving ponies often describe a sensation of gnawing, desperate hunger at the bottom of their bellies. It’d be a subtle, burning pain in their gut, a tiny voice crying out for help.

As soon as that eclair hit Blueblood’s stomach, his gut was an all-consuming, raging inferno of hunger and need. Before he knew it, he’d already picked up another eclair and stuffed it in his mouth. Then another, and another. Soon enough, he was shoving eclair after eclair down his throat without so much as chewing. The last two pastries disappeared together into his gut, which was now bulging an inch or so outward and gurgling softly.

“Unh,” Blueblood grunted, taking a moment to rub his gut. As his stomach gurgled, digesting its sweet treats, his hand drifted downward to his crotch, where his stallionhood was slowly starting to harden against his dress pants. For some reason, even after eating all that, he still felt hungry.

No. Not just hungry. Starving.

In the blink of an eye, he’d plunged his hand into a pile of cookies - chocolate-chip, peanut butter, sugar, he didn’t care, so long as it was food - and started shoving them into his mouth. It was astounding in its regularity; his hands moved down, picked up cookies, and shoved them down his throat so quickly that he barely had the chance to chew. All the while, his belly swelled against his dress shirt, his buttons straining to contain his burgeoning gut. His crotch was even slightly damp, pre leaking from his hardening horsecock as it reached its full length of twelve inches - and kept growing.

When the cookies had left nothing behind beside a plate full of crumbs, Blueblood just dumped the crumbs into his mouth, tossed it aside, and moved onto the next dish.

This one was nothing more than a bowl full of whipped cream, but Blueblood had officially given up on any semblance of dignity or proper sensibility at this point. Without even bothering to roll up his sleeves, he just stuck both hands into the bowl and started pulling gulping down enormous handfuls of cream, smearing some across his snout and chin as he went.

That chin was starting to become a double chin, with all of the fat he’d digested from his previous meals going straight from his belly to the rest of his body. Though that wasn’t to say that his belly had been forgotten - oh, no. If anything, it was now his proudest feature, bulging obscenely through his shirt, his buttons holding on for dear life, but knowing that they were fighting a losing war.

Speaking of bulging obscenely, Blueblood’s cock had now grown enough that is was hard to tell how much of his overstuffed pantleg was his left leg, and how much was his throbbing, shuddering member. Every time he swallowed another pint of whipped cream, his stallionhood spasmed and let out a good amount of his own “cream” to drip down his leg, collecting in a puddle on the floor.

By the time Blueblood finished the whipped cream - not even taking a second to catch his breath - and moved onto the pile of two-dozen tartes aux pommes, his entire set of clothing was fixing for a ripping. Each gulp of sweet pie filling brought his shirt a little closer to ripping, or his pants a little closer to splitting apart. Even the inseam covering his fat, growing cock had been stretched beyond its limits, a straight glance easily revealing the thick, veined stallonhood throbbing underneath. It was a race: Which part of his outfit would break first?

As Blueblood finished his third apple pie, the world got its answer: Every part.

No sooner had the giant-sized bite of the apple pie (i.e., all of it) reached his stomach than every element of clothing on Blueblood’s body met an unpleasant end. His every shirt button went flying off into the air to clatter against the wall, his collar ripping to make room for his fat, flabby shoulders. His pants-button finally gave up as well, popping off with an even more violent sound and letting his gigantic gut sag completely over his thighs, the shockwave of movement sending waves and jiggles through his jellylike, fat-filled belly.

His left pantleg finally lost the good fight as well, the entire seam ripping in half and letting his package spring up to full attention. Now three feet long if it was an inch, Blueblood’s massive member drooled a steady stream of precum down its shaft, his melon-sized balls more than happy to supply it with enough “cream” to keep Blueblood’s arousal high.

From the second it landed between Blueblood’s fat, sagging man-tits, though, steadily titfucking itself as he pumped his hips with each new gulp of pie, the leaking stopped - and the tension began. Blueblood sweated as he felt the orgasm building at the base of his shaft, but that didn’t stop him from shoving another pie down his throat. He loved the way his gigantic, doughlike belly molded itself around his rock-hard cock, loved the way his double - no, triple - chins bounced and jiggled whenever he swallowed another beautiful helping of fruit, sugar, and pastry. The orgasm kept building, drawing his balls in toward his body as his shaft swelled and throbbed.

Finally, Blueblood stopped in place, holding the last two pies in either hand - and moaned as the orgasm swept through him like nothing he’d ever felt before. Rope after rope of thick, warm seed shot from his tip, covering the floor and splattering the ceiling. He could feel his balls churning, could feel his stomach jiggling as his spasming cock thumped against it.

And then he came for the last time, and the pies were already on their way down into his stomach.