Trixie had decided she rather liked being looked at.

Oh, she’d always known that she enjoyed a good ogle or two. It did a girl’s ego wonders to have a stallion’s gaze go straight to her cleavage, or (when she’d worn yoga pants in school) to the thick, bulging cameltoe that just begged for a good stuffing. She’d only rarely actually stuffed it, though; with a body like hers, she’d always been able to be choosy with her partners.

Even so, she’d never quite lost the thrill that came with using her body to keep others’ attention. It was a skill she’d practiced for more than half a decade by no. Lean slightly forward, just until your breasts are straining against your top, and watch as his eyes dart down to your cleavage. Throw a sway into your step, and let your plump ass wobble and shake, drawing the eye of every eligible colt at the party.

And it was, she reflected smugly, every colt.

She and Blueblood had gone for hours after his first orgasm. They’d tried every sexual position she’d known, and a few even he hadn’t shared before. Blueblood’s lust had seemed almost insatiable; it had seemed like his stallionhood was making up for years spent at a “mere” foot in length. His grapefruit-sized nuts had seemed bottomless, pumping cum into her every orifice until she’d had to haul around a gut the size of a basketball, constantly sloshing and squishing with his plentiful spunk.

They hadn’t woken until past noon. That was one of the things Trixie liked best about sleeping with aristocracy. Unlike common ponies, nobles didn’t have to wake up at six o’clock to haul themselves into work. And the things that they did have to wake up for were much more pleasurable than chores or errands.

Trixie sauntered into the garden party with her chin up and a smug grin on her face. Her elbow was locked around Blueblood’s, his huge, muscled arm wrapped surprisingly gently around her own, slender one. She brushed his bicep with a thumb and felt a shiver of pleasure tingle up her spine. There was so much strength bound up in the curve of his twenty-inch arms, so much power. She would have laughed, she would have cackled, but instead she only smiled.

They passed beneath a trimmed hedge arch, the sweet smell of roses in the air. A smartly dressed stallion perhaps ten years her senior stepped in front of them, holding up a clipboard.

“Might I present you, sir?” he asked. Trixie almost sneered. Blueblood towered above him, this slight, pathetic little thing. Why, his waist looked only a few inches wider than a single one of Blueblood’s arms, let alone those godlike thighs. She eyed his crotch with scorn, and saw nothing but smooth, unruffled velvet. Blueblood’s groin, on the other hand, bulged obscenely, the material wrapping around his enormous package until it had all but outlined each curve of his shaft and balls.

She curled her arm a bit more tightly around her date’s, and let her smirk widen. All around them, she could see ponies turning, pausing, staring at the couple waiting at the entrance. Let them look, she told herself. Let them see just how pathetic they are compared to us.

Blueblood drew himself up to his full height, his chest puffing out proudly. Even a last-minute tailoring job hadn’t been enough to let his dress shirts out enough to contain his full, godly physique. Rippling muscles showed through the fabric of his sleeves, and his pecs strained visibly against the upper buttons of his shirt. “Prince Blueblood,” he rumbled, his voice deep and rich. “Accompanied by Ms. Trixie Lulamoon.”

The weedy stallion—more of a colt, really, Trixie decided, especially considering his head only just reached Blueblood’s shoulder—coughed, then nodded. “Prince Blueblood!” he announced, turning on his heel to face the rest of the party. “And his guest, Ms. Trixie Lulamoon.”

All heads turned to face them. Trixie and Blueblood shared a smirk, and then confidently strode forward.

So many ponies were staring. It was absolutely wonderful. Trixie had always known she’d been a looker, but the new-and-improved “her” must be absolutely impossible to ignore. She might not be wearing pants, but her tight-cut dress clung closely enough to her rear that it highlighted every shimmy and bounce of her oversized rump. A pair of asscheeks larger than some other mares’ heads bounced and rolled with her every step, overflowing handfuls of booty-flesh smacking against her thighs and each other as she swayed to an imaginary beat.

But her ass wasn’t even her best feature. No; that honor had to go to her bust. And from the stunned looks of the stallions, and the wide, envious eyes of nearly every mare, every single pony there knew it, too. Trixie had made sure to choose just the gown for the occasion: a purple, silk shift that reached only up to her nipples, while leaving a full seven inches of cleavage free. Her breasts, so soft, so squishable, so plump, jiggled enticingly at every colt who so happened to glance in her direction.

Even as they walked, Trixie could catch Blueblood glancing down at her copious cleavage once every few seconds, as if to remind himself that it was still there—that she was, in fact, still real. She slid her hand even further through his arm, and stroked his fat bulge lovingly. She could already feel his stallionhood stirring, his package swelling with fresh seed. She gave him a little squeeze, and savored his cute little gasp. Oh, the rush it gave her to know that she held a Prince’s libido in the palm of her hand.

Not to mention all these cute little nobles. She met one well-dressed stallion’s eye and smirked. A little twitch in his direction set her enlarged ass bouncing into the air; an “innocent” turn to her left set her tits smacking heavily against her chest. Trixie savored the way his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. She savored even more the bright-red glare of the mare beside him, her fingers trembling around her champagne glass as Trixie glanced over her own, much more modest figure.

All her life, she’d fantasized about the status and power that only the highest echelons of society could even dream of. And now that she had it, she found that she could still sneer down on those below her. A noblestallion’s wife? Why, she looked like a filly beside Trixie, hips barely wide enough to bear a single foal, and breasts barely big enough to fill a palm. Trixie made them all look pathetic. She reveled in the weight of their gazes on her bust and rear, almost salivating over the way she so easily dominated their poor, slender minds. She’d once known what it was to be well-endowed, but Blueblood had shown her what it meant to be truly wealthy. Size, lust, and sex without bound. She rather liked the sound of that.

“Prince Blueblood! Goodness, you’ve certainly had some work done.”  

Blueblood stopped in his tracks. Trixie stopped with him, a momentary twinge of annoyance surging in her chest at being interrupted. She soon quashed it, though, in favor of the thrill of being able to show off personally. Princess or no, she’d always been one thing above all: a showmare. And tonight, she knew, was showtime.

A dapper-looking stallion had stopped in front of them. He wore his bright blue mane in a series of braids down his back, and his bright white fur had been cleaned until it was sparkling. He squinted pleasantly at Trixie through a monocle, then nodded back up at Blueblood. Standing at a solid six-foot-two, he looked as though he could have rivaled the prince for height—at least before his operation. And while he looked fit—which itself was a wonder in this pit of noble indulgence—he looked skinny enough beside Blueblood as though he could be snapped like a twig.

“Fancy Pants,” Blueblood rumbled, nodding in return. “A lovely party.” Trixie shivered, having to focus to keep her fingers from drifting between her thighs. That voice. So rich, so deep, so utterly sensual. Oh, she’d always known that she’d had an aptitude for seduction, but Blueblood’s new body was so purely powerful that his voice itself was an aphrodisiac for her. It was fair enough, she decided with a smirk, seeing as a mere glimpse at her over-stuffed dress could bring his stirring package roaring to life.

Glancing up, she saw Blueblood smirk too, directed down at the smaller stallion. “And yes,” he said, his cheeks dimpling. “I have had some work done. Is it really so obvious?” He held up a massive arm and gave it a “light” flex. His bicep bulged, visibly straining the tight fabric around it. He chuckled, then let his arm fall again—though not without letting his open hand brush subtly across the melon-sized bulge of his package. Fancy Pants glanced down, his eyes widening at the enormous tent that was slowly snaking its way down Blueblood’s leg.

“O-oh, yes,” Fancy said. “Quite impressive. And Ms. Lulamoon,” he said, offering Trixie a short bow. “You also seem to have become quite a bit more...bountiful than the last time you attended one of my parties.”

“But of course,” she said, teasingly. “A real stallion like my coltfriend deserves a large enough mare to suit his desires. Wouldn’t you agree, Blue?”

Blueblood reached a thick arm around her waist and rubbed his hand across her butt, reaching his fingers around a heaping handful of assflesh and squeezing. “Oh, but of course,” he said, grinning lecherously down at Trixie’s bountiful figure. “My dear Trixie has always dreamed of a figure suitable for a princess. It was quite literally my pleasure,” he continued, giving his stiffening cock a noticeable flex in his dress slacks, “to provide the opportunity. The royal coffers are always open to a good cause, after all.”

Trixie giggled in her best shallow manner. “Oh, yes,” she purred. She turned to hug Blueblood’s side, letting her enormous breasts squish out across the sculpted steel of his torso. Fancy Pants’ eyes bulged even wider, his cheeks reddening as Trixie stroked Blueblood’s swelling cock through his pants while rubbing her stiff nipples against his obliques. She took a good handful of his ass herself, and kneaded it like dough while nuzzling her cheek against his bulging, rounded pecs.

Blueblood turned back to smirk at Fancy. “I presume you’ve brought a date as well?”

Fancy nearly choked, hastily averting his gaze from Trixie’s cleavage. Trixie merely smirked. Oh, he’d been leering quite nicely at her. She knew about him from nights of bedtime gossiping with Blueblood; he was quite wealthy, but nowhere near Blueblood’s level of financial status. A pity. He might actually be worth her interest if he were four inches taller, a hundred pounds heavier, and equipped with a cock thrice his current size.

It did tent his pants quite nicely, she admitted to herself (even as she congratulated herself on being an aphrodisiac for apparently a full half of the party’s guests), but Blueblood had long since ruined her for other, more “average” stallions. Even well-endowed ones like Fancy were hardly worth her time when she had access to the body of a god—and a purse that could purchase for her the body of a goddess to boot. She slipped a hand around one of her breasts and nearly moaned, squeezing it lightly and feeling tingles of prospective pleasure flowing through her body.

“Oh,” Fancy said, red-faced. “Yes, of course. Fleur?”

“Darling.” A slender, aristocratic-looking mare strolled into the group. She wore a tight-cut pink dress all but bound around her own ample bust. Between her high cheekbones, her perfectly smooth face, and the hourglass curve of her waist into her wide-set hips, Trixie imagined that she would have been the belle of the ball at any other party.

She recognized Fleur, of course. Most of these other nobles had bored her, but the other mare had managed to get under her skin more than once in the time since Blueblood had brought her into high society. Something about the way she looked at Trixie, as if with some manner of concealed loathing, just made Trixie’s skin prickle with irritation. Because of that, it was absolutely delicious to see her reaction to Trixie’s new, overly endowed figure.

Fleur’s gaze grew chilly. Trixie’s smile only widened. She clasped her hands over her groin in what she hoped came off as a demure sort of gesture - except she made sure that her upper arms pressed against her copious volume of breastflesh, squishing against her bust by virtue of its sheer, overwhelming size. She smirked when she felt Blueblood’s big hand curling around her waist, grasping her plump, juicy rear in a shameless, obvious fashion.

“Prince Blueblood,” Fleur said, curtsying in his direction. She all but ignored Trixie. Instead, she turned to glare at her date, who had his eyes once more hopelessly lost in Trixie’s cleavage. “Fancy, we missed you in the charity auction. Really, perhaps we should go socialize with some of the diplomats.”

“Really, now?” Blueblood sounded amused. “And just when we were beginning to socialize ourselves.” He casually began to knead the side of Trixie’s expansive rump, her vast, globular ass jiggling and squishing between his fingers. Fancy Pants swallowed visibly.

“Y-yes, dear,” he stammered, his eyes firmly planted on Trixie’s bust. “Perhaps a...few more minutes couldn’t hurt.” Trixie smiled, and squeezed her forearms a little closer. Fancy Pants’ eyes nearly popped when he caught sight of her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress, each one nearly the width of her pinkie finger.

Fleur gritted her teeth. “Forgive me,” she said, curling an arm around Fancy’s waist. Her hand brushed against a very obvious tent at his crotch, which seemed to be growing stiffer by the moment. “I don’t wish to offend with my date’s...wandering eye.”

“Oh, not at all,” Blueblood rumbled. He flexed an arm and grinned down at the weaker, smaller Fancy. Fancy’s knees seemed to tremble when Blueblood’s bicep swelled up nearly two-thirds as wide as his entire waist. “Bodies like these are meant to be looked at, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, of course.” Trixie snuggled in closer to Blueblood’s side, loving the power and hardness of his pecs against her head. She groped around his plump, expansive rear even as she began to stroke gently at the obscene bulge snaking down his pants. Fleur’s eyes widened even further as Trixie teased Blueblood’s throbbing erection, letting his plump, girthy meat fill her palm and more. She gave it a squeeze, and Blueblood moaned, a dark stain of copious precum blossoming across his shins.

Trixie’s smile widened, and she turned her rump closer to face Fancy, making sure to grind her thick thighs along Blueblood’s bulge. This could be yours, she wanted Fancy to think, this godlike body, this goddess of a mare. She flexed her ass, one globular cheek at a time, and nearly moaned when the vibrations sent golden veins of pleasure twisting through her body.

Except he couldn’t have it, she thought smugly. Because all of that wealth, all of that access, all of that power belonged to Blueblood.

And Blueblood belonged to her.

Fancy wasn’t the only one with an eye for beauty, though. Fleur herself was eyeing Blueblood’s sculpted, bulging muscles with an expression somewhere between awe and bestial, barely restrained lust. Trixie felt his enormous cock throb mightily beneath her palm, and Fleur gulped, her gaze bobbing up and down with the flaring of Blueblood’s engorged shaft. Trixie smirked at her as she traced a finger lightly around the outline of Blueblood’s fat, cum-filled nuts. She could see it in Fleur’s irises - that hunger, that lust, that need to guzzle down every drop of his thick, virile cream until her belly was bulging with his spunk, and her cunt was dripping with his seed.

Nuh-uh, Trixie promised silently, meeting Fleur’s wide eyes, smirking at the blush on her cheeks. You can have your pathetic little colt, hussy. This slab of stallion is all mine.

Fleur seemed to snap to consciousness. Flushed and stammering, Fancy Pants put up little resistance as she dragged him away. Trixie paid them no heed. They were beneath her, beneath them. She felt Blueblood’s strong arms curl tightly around her, and she lifted her head into a kiss. His lips suckled fiercely on hers, each partner’s hands roving lustfully across the other’s bountiful, perfect body. She pressed her huge, melon-sized breasts against Blueblood’s sculpted abs, then moaned when Blueblood began to suck on her neck, humping his massive, swelling erection against her soft, curvaceous body.

Somehow, she managed to wriggle free. “Ah-ah,” Trixie purred, wagging a finger up at her Adonis of a coltfriend. “In public? You shameless colt.”

Blueblood gaped down at her. “Bah,” he grunted, once he’d recollected his thoughts. His cheeks were flushed, too. Trixie could make out every inch of his engorged package straining against his slacks, outlined so tightly that it’d take a blind pony to miss them. “They may be nobles, but they’re commoners compared to me. I can do what I please. And that means” - he reached for Trixie again, leaning toward her lips - “taking what’s mine.”

Trixie nimbly stepped out of his grasp. “Such a big, horny stud,” she purred, glancing up at him with half-lidded eyes. She pulled her hands behind her head, a motion that pushed her huge, juicy breasts forward to fill Blueblood’s lower field of view. He licked his lips, eyeing them fiercely. “You just can’t get enough of this, can you?”

Licking her own lips, she let her hands trail down the sides of her bust, then in around her waist. By the time that she’d wrapped her fingers lovingly around her fat, bulging rump, Blueblood was nodding along with her. He almost resembled a puppy dog, really.

“And you will.” Going on her tiptoes, Trixie darted up to plant a kiss on his chin. “Later. There is a time for fun.” She reached forward and stroked his massive bulge gently. Blueblood groaned lustfully as she gave one of his cantaloupe-sized nuts a loving squeeze; his pillar of meat throbbed in his silk-smooth slacks, spurting another hefty flood of pre down his pant leg. Trixie smirked, and cast a quick Clean-Me-Up spell.

“But there’s also,” she finished, “a time for showing off.” She finished the spell and slid a hand across his thigh. Thick, bulging, corded muscle pushed back, flexing so wide, so thick, so strong that she shuddered with pleasure at the very touch of it. She continued to smile up at Blueblood, gently - though perhaps not sensually - caressing his hip. “And I do believe that the two of us need to show the rest of these nobles just what kinds of bodies true power can buy.” She reached up to innocuously adjust her neckline, pulling it down another two inches over her overstuffed bodice in the process.

Blueblood grinned fiercely back. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he rumbled. Trixie yelped when he gave her a hard, firm smack on the rump. The force of it sent her two huge buttcheeks bouncing and jiggling; the vibrations that each sent through her thighs and crotch made it difficult to ignore the rising arousal and heat swelling at her own loins. She bit her lip and pressed her legs together, which only made her plump thighs tease even harder against her puffy marehood.

Blueblood didn’t appear to notice. Instead, he merely smirked down at her and said, “I do believe I spotted some old rivals of mine by the punch. I do believe I’ll pay them a visit.” He flexed both arms, approaching a most-muscular pose that did wonders to show off his huge, amazing physique. Chuckling, he added, “If they thought I was big before...well.”

“They’re in for an impressive surprise,” Trixie finished for him. She grinned. “And all those poor mares over by the buffet. Such a pity it would be if a much prettier mare came along and teased all those stallions’ eyes away.”

Blueblood laughed,  rich, belly-laugh that sent his pecs bouncing and his erection throbbing. “Oh, yes,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. “But don’t forget that you’re my date, Ms. Lulamoon.” He hugged her to his chest, one big hand cupping her enormous breasts.

Trixie chuckled. “Of course not,” she purred. “Just a bit of fun. And I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing just how many stallions wish they could be you.”

“All of them, my dear,” Blueblood said. “All of them.” With a wink, a squeeze, and a final kiss, they parted.

As she moved through across the pavilion, Trixie felt as though she were wading through a sea of wandering eyes. Every mare might be drooling at the sight of Blueblood, but she ruled the libidos of each stallion she passed. She savored the drops in conversation, the lulls in action as gazes drifted across her incredible bust. She grinned with confidence as she felt the dozens of eyes lingering on her fat, jiggling ass, which drew stares like a magnet, and even more erections. She’d never seen so many colts struggling to hide a boner before, not even in high school.

The reactions of the noblemares at the buffet table were even more delicious, though. They’d circled in their petty little ego battles for years, and then suddenly here came Trixie, a titan striding amongst the battlefield equipped with an M-cup bust and an ass half again as wide as the next largest. Their glares, their whimpers of inadequacy - all of them fueled her, assuring her that this, more than anything else, was what she’d been dreaming of all her life. To know that this upstart, “commoner” unicorn was not only above these egotistical, pathetic fillies in both connections and body. Oh, how it must rankle them to see her filling out her dress more than any of them could even dream to, how jealous they must be of a mare whose very body was more perfectly attractive than they could ever dream of attaining.

One by one, they left, each making excuses to avoid having to linger around Trixie’s divine figure. Trixie winked at each one as they left, seeing the green glittering in the backs of their eyes, and savoring their blushes with each lewd innuendo she made. Before long, she’d sent the lot of them scampering back to their woefully inadequate “dates,” and had the buffet table all to herself.

Trixie eyed the feast lustfully. She rubbed her aching stomach, realizing that she hadn’t had a thing to eat all day. As if that excused her next action completely, she tossed all propriety to the air, grabbed a plate, and piled it high with every luscious, succulent dish she could see.

Even after a full four months of her “royal’ lifestyle, Trixie hadn’t quite gotten over the range of gourmet delicacies that the upper class dined on. Moans escaped her lips as she stuffed her cheeks full of cream puffs, fruit-filled pastries, and elegant, creamy cheeses. One hand went to her belly, feeling it swell, as if by pregnancy, as she filled herself with each luscious offering that the buffet held.

Caramel drizzle and pure, liquid chocolate drizzled from the side of her cheek, running down across her copious cleavage. Her breasts were large enough that, even if she’d bothered to lean forward, the space between them was still long and wide enough to capture each drop of cream that dribbled down her chin. Trixie moaned to herself as she squished her breasts together, imagining all of the sweetness, all of the succulence of her meal melting into fat to grow her breasts and thighs and ass even thicker and softer, until she was so curvy that not a single mare in the kingdom could even hope to compare.

“Golly,” a voice behind her said. “With a pair of jugs like those, I don’t think y’all even need a napkin. So long as you’re planning on havin’ a little snack later.” She heard a chuckle, halfway through lowering a cluster of grapes between her stuffed cheeks. “Sure seems like you’ve still got room in there.”

Trixie stiffened. She knew that voice. That insufferable, grating country twang. She’d never expected to hear it again, much less in the middle of a Canterlot nobility garden party. She turned on her heel, her whole body rigid, to face..

Well. She hadn’t bothered to remember her name. But Trixie recognized the smirking, orange-furred country bumpkin before her all the same.

“Excuse me?” Trixie said. “Can I help you, miss…”

“Applejack. Come off it, Trixie.” Applejack raised an eyebrow and leaned against the side of the buffet table. “Gotta say, didn’t expect to see you at this high-falutin’ party.”

“I could say the same for you,” Trixie said, sneering. “Some of us have come up in the world enough to merit such an invitation. You, however…” She eyed Applejack’s plain, freckled face and red-checkered blouse with obvious distaste.

Applejack snorted. “Puh-lease. As if I asked to come. Nah; I’m Twilight’s plus-one.”

“Twilight?” Trixie said. “Twilight Sparkle is here?”

That got another raised eyebrow. “Well, yeah. What with her bein’ Princess Twilight Sparkle now, and all.” Applejack’s smirk twitched. “You ain’t the only one who’s grown in stature a bit. Though I can tell that you’ve grown in more than one way, ain’tcha?” She eyed Trixie’s bust meaningfully.

“But of course,” Trixie said. She cupped her breasts, one in either hand, and gave them a plump little squeeze. Leering at Applejack’s own relatively flat chest, she added, “A royal date requires a royal body, does she not?”

“Royal, huh?” Applejack chuckled. “What, you datin’ Princess Celestia or somethin’?”

“Prince Blueblood,” Trixie sniffed. “A stallion of proper and bountiful tastes who - “

But Applejack didn’t hear her. She was already doubled over, wheezing with laughter. Trixie stared at her in shock, not entirely sure how to respond. Soon enough, though, thankfully, Applejack came back up with a twitch to her smile and mirth in her gaze.

“So you’re that prick’s new toy, huh?” Applejack said. “Thought you’d plump yourself up for him, huh?”

“I never - “

“S’cute, really.” Applejack smiled lazily and stepped toward her. Trixie abruptly realized that, flat-chested or no, the other mare was easily taller than her by nearly a head - she had to be at least six feet, if not more. And, she noted with a dawning horror, while she’d only considered the top half of Applejack’s body, the bottom half was…

Applejack loomed over her, her teeth gleaming white past her lips. She’d casually laid a hand on her hips - which Trixie now realized were a good six inches wider than hers. Her pants, much like Trixie, bulged with the volume of her thighs, only even more thickly. The belt of her pants rode up over her hips, clinging tight to a waist that seemed almost perfectly concave.

Trixie’s dress and stockings may have been drawn tight around her huge, plump thighs, but Applejack’s were even moreso. Her pants were absolutely stuffed with a massive, muscular pair of legs that seemed to threaten to tear right through the fabric with each twitch and flex. Years of strenuous physical activity had gifted her with a body that was more than toned; it bulged. Applejack casually crossed one leg over the other, and Trixie stared at the shifting, flexing muscles that strained against the overlying fabric.

But her thighs weren’t even her largest feature. As Applejack turned, ostensibly to pick up a pastry from the buffet line, Trixie was brought face-to-face with the largest, heaviest, widest ass she’d ever seen. Applejack’s rump was absolutely enormous, two massive, globular spheres of flex that filled out her pants more than even Trixie’s plump rear could ever hope to. Where Trixie’s ass made regular mares look like anorexic fillies, Applejack’s rump made Trixie’s look like a joke. A pair of tightly-packed asscheeks, so round and wide that you could balance a glass between them, stared down Trixie’s pitiful attempts at being “well-rounded” and laughed in her face.

Applejack caught her looking and grinned. “See,” she drawled, taking a bite of her pastry, “there’s two kinds of ponies. Those who earn their figures” - she gave her enormous, muscled rump a slap and shivered with obvious pleasure when it barely even rippled - “and those who think they can buy ‘em.”

Trixie decided that she didn’t like the way Applejack was looking at her. Looking down at her, more like. But Applejack didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“Bet your coltfriend likes ‘em, don’t he?” Applejack said. She cupped her respectable, but still (relatively) tiny breasts and gave Trixie a wink. “I’ll bet he sure does. But see, you gotta wonder what he thinks when he looks at ya. Is he seein’ Trixie, his busty filly? Or a mare attached to a big ol’ pair of titties?”

“You,” Trixie growled, “have said just about enough.” She was surprised by the intensity of her voice, but kept going, a fire burning in her belly.

“I’ll wager I have.” Applejack sighed, then shot Trixie a wink. “This royal food ain’t quite good enough to merit my yappin’ with you, Trix. Though if I had to leave you with just one tidbit, it’d be this.” She gripped her fat, muscled rump in one hand and squeezed, grinning when her fingers barely squished into the surface. “Nice and firm, y’see? That’s from years of applebuckin’. You’re cute, sugarcube. But don’t think you’re gonna keep the eye of a stallion like Blueblood on you when all you’ve got’s a boobjob and a few too many desserts.”

Trixie’s eyes bulged. “Where,” she hissed, “do you get off on this kind of...immaturity? What gives you the right to even stand among the ponies at this party, let alone lecture me about such things!”

“Like I said,” Applejack drawled. “I’m Twi’s plus-one.”

“And where,” Trixie said, her voice saccharine-sweet, “is she?”

“Hello, Trixie.”

Trixie froze.

She couldn’t see her yet, but she could feel her. She could see her shadow trailing across the ground in front of her. She could feel the magic aura, huge and endless and monstrous, flickering and burning behind it. She could even sense her bulk, the weight of her very presence, as she balled her fists and gritted her teeth.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie bit out through clenched teeth. She very slowly turned, hoping for the thousandth time since her arrival in Canterlot that she would not, in fact, see her rival as an alicorn, larger than life and bigger and bustier than ever.

She came face-to-nipple with one of Twilight’s breasts. Just one of the things was more than thrice the size of her entire head, and the tightly drawn “dress” covering it (more of a rag, really, compared to Twilight’s enormous body) did absolutely nothing to hide the plump, thumb-sized nipple poking erect against its fabric.

Trixie’s gaze went up—and up, and up. Even in Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle had been an inch or two taller than her, but this was absolutely ridiculous. The top of Trixie’s head didn’t even come up to her cleavage, of which a generous sixteen inches (at least!) was on display. Sparkle had to be pushing at least seven and a half feet, if not eight. She may not have been too large to fit indoors (not yet, at least, compared to her fellow alicorn princesses—Celestia especially was known for having inopportune growth spurts and breaking even the extra-large doorways designed specially for her), but to any normal pony, she was more than big enough to tower.

And tower she did. Trixie felt herself shrinking, almost receding into herself as Twilight Sparkle casually loomed over her. The size of an alicorn was no common gift—but then again, alicorns were no common species anyway. And Twilight Sparkle was well on her way to becoming well and truly huge.

Oh, Trixie had believed her M-cup to be flattering? Twilight Sparkle likely was verging on a U-cup, with tits so large that they nearly covered the entirety of her torso. Trixie could cup hers and fail to hold them; Twilight could hug hers and nearly fail to reach the entire way around.

Really, Twilight’s entire body made Trixie’s look downright pitiful. Thighs so thick that they bulged out nearly as wide as her hips; if Applejack’s had been foalbearing, Twilight’s were brood-bearing. Given the size and tightness of her dress, it was little surprise that the outline of a fat, puffy marehood pushed against the fabric covering her crotch; Trixie only registered it with a dull surprise, noting somewhere in her head that Twilight was lucky to be with a mare, if only for want of a stallion to properly fill her.

Blueblood could fill her, she thought dumbly, scrambling for any kind of coherent thoughts or response. Blueblood, given another operation or two, could well and truly stuff her, make her squeal and beg for more of his monstrous shaft. She could see it all too easily, too: this prime, titaness of a mare, pressing him to a bed, riding his gargantuan cock as her massive, curvy body slapped and weighed against his, growing larger by the second—

With a muffled snarl, Trixie tore that image to threads and stomped it into the ground. No, she vowed, fuming silently. Blueblood was her stallion, her ticket to royalty, and she would not let some damned hussy like Twilight Sparkle outmatch her. Even if she did have all of the curves of an alicorn, and every inch of size that came with them to boot.

Twilight casually strolled around Trixie toward Applejack. The simple sight of her incredible body just moving set every visual nerve in Trixie’s brain alight with awe. Those massive, heavy tits, swaying back and forth like a pair of enormous exercise balls, could probably knock a stallion over if they so much as tapped him on the shoulder. And that ass. It filled up the back of her dress and then some; the cleavage between her buttcheeks was so well-defined that Trixie could make out the entire curvature of Twilight’s vast, succulent rear. Her pristine, globular buttocks had such tremendous weight to them that they slapped against each other as Twilight walked, even as the gigantic mare’s thighs rubbed and smacked together.

The very spectacle of it all set Trixie staring in awe, and reminded her of just why she’d requested that operation from Blueblood in the first place. What an aphrodisiac it must be to possess such size, to have every ripple of every inch of perfect, round flesh send tremors of vibration and pleasure through your entire body. From the hazy, lustful look in Twilight’s eyes as she moved, she knew it, too.

When Twilight took up a position beside Applejack, Trixie was astounded by just how tiny the well-built earth pony looked beside her. Applejack’s biceps were themselves enormous: sculpted, taut, and rounded from years of hard field work. Nothing compared to Blueblood’s, of course, but even his looked tiny besides Twilight’s. Her arms were enormous, nearly half as thick as her legs, and easily as wide as a regular pony’s waist.

And how easily Applejack fell in beside her! Trixie gaped at the soft, dreamy look on Applejack’s face as she stepped in beside Twilight, nuzzling gently into her side—or, given their size, her breasts. The tall, powerful farmer that Trixie had met in Ponyville seemed almost to let her presence be swallowed up by Twilight’s, the smaller, submissive partner wallowing in the sheer size of the other.

Subtly, as though she didn’t even notice it, Twilight reached down to curl an arm around Applejack’s waist. Even her big hand struggled to reach around Applejack’s heavy-set hips, which stuck out a good six inches behind Applejack’s back. Twilight actually sighed happily as Applejack leaned further into her, grinding her huge, muscular booty against Twilight’s thick thighs and crotch. She gave Applejack’s rump a squeeze, and grinned when that massive, firm rump resisted even her strength.

“Sorry,” Twilight said. The sheepishness of her words clashed violently with the power of her presence, not to mention the cool, casual confidence that size seemed to lend her tone. This was a mare who, if not fully grown into her power, was learning to navigate it with aplomb. She smiled down at Trixie, looking not apologetic in the slightest. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Applejack said, before Trixie could even react. Trixie sputtered, and Applejack quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “Just havin’ a friendly little chat with my friend Trix over here.”

“Trixie,” Trixie snapped, desperate for any thread of control she could hope to grasp. “Not Trix.” How dare Applejack look that amused!

 “Friend, huh?” Twilight reached over to the buffet table—her arm was long enough that it wasn’t even a reach for her—and picked up a champagne glass from atop the tablecloth. She took a surprisingly dainty sip, especially given how tiny the glass looked in her hands. Once she was finished, she slung her arm back around Applejack’s shoulder, the half-empty glass dangling between her fingers. “Well, I suppose it’s not too surprising to see you here, at least. I did notice that Blueblood was on the guest list.”

“Surprising?” Trixie said. “Of course I would come! I am his marefriend.”

Now Twilight was arching an eyebrow at her. “Of course,” she said, sounding so insincere that Trixie longed to sock her right in her huge, perfect breasts. “Well, don’t let me hold you two up, then.” She rolled her eyes. “Celestia said I had to meet with some visiting dignitaries, and I think I see them over there. Goddess knows I can’t avoid them for the whole night.”

She tossed back the rest of her champagne and sighed happily. As she stepped away from Applejack, she gave the other mare a hard slap on the ass. Applejack gasped, her enormous rump flexing as it trembled and bounced from the impact. Her gaze darted up at Twilight, who just smirked down at her.

“Catch you later, Applebutt?”

“You know it, Princess.” Applejack grinned back.

“Great,” Twilight said. “Hey, you mind holding onto this for me?” She winked down at Trixie, then placed her champagne glass right on top of Applejack’s flexed, heavy-set rear. Trixie bogled when she saw it standing nearly straight up, perched perfectly atop Applejack’s well-toned cheeks.

With a little wave, Twilight turned away to go. Trixie almost imagined she could hear the ground shaking beneath her footsteps, the trembling swelling as her alicorn’s body grew bigger and heavier and sexier—

Applejack snorted, and plucked the glass off of her rump. “That mare,” she said, shaking her head. “Likes to show me off too much. Anyways, Trixie—”

But Trixie had already turned the corner, vanishing from sight.

That bitch. That absolute, conniving bitch.

Trixie’s face burned as she stalked through the garden party. She rudely shoved aside a cluster of stallions who’d been whistling at her and ogling her tits, and barged past a hapless waiter with little more than a snarl.

She wasn’t sure, really, which one she meant. Twilight, or Applejack. Applejack had been the rude one, but Twilight had committed the unforgivable - ascension to alicornhood. All of that size, all of that power, all of that libido and sex appeal that Trixie had always dreamed of. Gone to some magical flub-up, rather than toward the great magician Trixie. She deserved it. She’d always deserved it. And Twilight had just descended to tell her that, as far as she’d come, she still had nothing compared to a real Princess.

In spite of herself, Trixie’s lips curled into a smile. Her fat ass bounced and jiggled as she walked, her asscheeks slapping together in time with the sway of her hips. Twilight may be a Princess...but Trixie owned a Prince. And there were other ways to royalty and power than alicornification.

She spotted Blueblood easily enough, especially now that he towered above the rest of the crowds. His size and bulk was made all the more obvious by contrast with the company he’d surrounded himself with: a gaggle of fawning, giggling mares, all of whom seemed unable to resist petting or groping him in all but the most intimate of ways. Trixie thought she saw Fleur among them, but Fancy Pants was nowhere to be found. Off to the side, though, a trio of red-faced stallions watched powerlessly as their “dates” were drawn away by Blueblood’s overpowering sexuality and musk.

And what musk it was. The bulge in his pant leg was absolutely obscene; why, in the absence of Trixie’s mess-vanishing spell, the buffoon had left his entire left shin drenched in precum, with a steady drool of the stuff seeping out into a puddle below him. Trixie gritted her teeth and balled her fists as she approached, doing her best to ignore the twin mares that were cuddling against Blueblood’s waist-thick biceps.

“ - and if you were looking for a real stallion, ladies,” Blueblood was saying, his rich, baritone voice echoing out over the crowd. “You really must look no further.” He struck a pose, flexing both massive biceps over his head, and the mares squealed in delight as his enormous shaft flexed and strained against the fabric of his pants in return.

That was Trixie’s cue. “Excuse me, dear,” she said loudly, wearing her best saccharine smile. She shoved one of those vapid-headed floozies aside and sauntered up beside Blueblood. Curling her arm around his waist - even her heart skipped a beat at the feel of that rugged, sculpted torso - she forced her grin even wider and said - “Would you mind stepping aside with me for a moment? I had a personal question I wanted to ask you.”

Blueblood blinked down at her. “Hrm?” He glanced from her, to his “ladies,” then back to her again. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to ignore a direct request in this kind of situation. “Oh, um. Of course.”

He turned and shot his best pearly-white grin (a gift from the half-dozen hygiene spells he had his butlers apply every morning) at the party of whores surrounding him. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked Trixie, once she’d finished pulling him away. “I hope there’s no problem.”

“Oh, no,” Trixie said through her teeth. “None at all.”

She cozied up to him, and began to stroke his pre-stained crotch with one hand. As she did, she felt her horn glow, her magic caressing Blueblood’s heavy, grapefruit-sized nuts through the fabric of his slacks. He let out a choked, moaning sort of sound, and Trixie’s smile tightened.

“I think we’ve both been enjoying the...attention of our new statures,” she said sweetly. She rubbed at the line of his quads, feeling the thick, corded steel of his muscles. Goddess, but he was tall - and if her plan worked, they’d both only get bigger from here. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Blueblood chuckled. He took a hold of Trixie’s slender hand in his own, much bigger one, and held it to his throbbing erection. Even the slightest flex of his arm was enough to make his bicep bulge impressively, and he grinned lecherously down at her. “Does it look like I’m enjoying myself?” A beat later, he gave her a hard smack on the ass; she gasped, her eyes widening as her oversized rump smacked against itself and her own plump thighs. “Not to mention enjoying the view of you from across the party.”

“Mm.” Trixie slid a hand across his abs, idly sliding her finger between their cleavage. “I’m certainly enjoying being bigger, and I can tell that you’re loving it, you handsome hunk.” She craned her head back for a kiss, and he took it lustfully, giving plenty of tongue. When she slid back down into his arms, though, she frowned and said, “But from the looks of this party, there are still ponies bigger than either of us.”

Blueblood frowned back. Then he glanced to the side - and caught the towering silhouette of Princess Twilight just over the hedge wall. “Ah,” he said. He nodded.

Trixie purred, nuzzling against his thick, rounded pectoral muscles. “An alicorn is big, yes - but surely a great Prince deserves to be bigger? Especially one born deserving of his status, rather than an upstart.” She had one hand stroking his engorged shaft through his pre-drenched pants, and another tweaking his nipple through his strained, filled-to-bursting shirt. Even now, she knew how much he loved the way the buttons struggled to hold back the tidal flood of muscle and power in his chest; playing to that ego of his was the surest way to get what she wanted.

Blueblood was nodding already. So easy to manipulate, she thought with a smirk. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But…”

“But what?” Trixie asked innocently. She gave one of his fat nuts a squeeze, feeling the curve of his cum-sloshing orb through the painted-on fabric of his slacks. Blueblood gasped, then moaned, another river of precum splurting out from the bottom of his pant leg. “You’ve gotten bigger once before. Why not do it again? All of the money of the royal coffers is yours.”

“Not...nnff...all of the money,” Blueblood grunted. Trixie could tell that he was struggling to concentrate given the touch of her fingers on his cock, and the softness of her breasts against his arm. “A...stipend. It’s an...expensive operation.”

Trixie hummed thoughtfully. She gave his engorged shaft a small tap with her knuckles, and grinned when she saw it throb in return. “But surely it’s worth it?” she asked. “To stand not only head, but head and shoulders and chest above anypony else at these parties? To look down on the little colts around you and to know them for the powerless, weakling foals that they are?” She grasped his globular ass and squeezed, heaping handfuls of his rear oozing through her fingers. “Please. You and I both know that’s a future you can’t resist.”

Blueblood shivered. Oh, yes. She had him now. “It’s a rather...attractive idea,” he said. “But nopony has ever had the operation twice, let alone three times.”

“You,” Trixie said, “are Prince Blueblood. Trailblazer. Owner of the family name. You” - she walked her fingers up between the cleavage of his big, round pecs, making sure to keep his gaze on them (and wondering, with a thrill, what he might say when both were too big to be seen over properly) - “are a massive, wealthy, powerful stud of a stallion, and I won’t rest until your body reflects the towering, muscular, hyper-endowed hunk that I know and expect you to be.”

“Yes,” Blueblood said. He was staring at his pecs - or perhaps at the ground, far, far below - with a small expression of wonder. “Yes. It’s a wonderful idea. I’ll schedule it for next week immediately.”

“Next week?” Trixie purred. She slid a hand beneath the bulging “pouch” of his package and rubbed his thigh shamelessly. “Why not tomorrow? A stallion as powerful as yourself deserves timely service.”

He nodded. He was on autopilot now, she could see. She grinned. Time to finish it off.

“And of course,” she said, “a stallion of such stature would require a consort able to satisfy him.” She waggled her ass, watching her enormous buttcheeks slap together with a combination of apathy and disdain. “I may be one of the most well-endowed mares at this party - all thanks to you, of course - but surely you’d prefer a mare with a proper...Princess’ stature.” She watched his eyes, searching for his reaction.

From the spark that lit up on his face, she’d chosen her worlds well. “Absolutely!” he said at once. “You shall have a rump to rival an alicorn’s - breasts larger than any Equestria has ever seen.” He grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her in front of him, so that the top side of his straining erection was pressed firmly between her fat ass. He curled both hands beneath her enormous bust and pulled her close. As he leaned down, his lips brushed against the top of her head, and he whispered, “I’ll have only the most beautiful mare as my Princess, after all.”

A thrill of excitement soared through Trixie’s veins. “Excellent,” she purred. She glanced back and up, and kissed him. “I’ll be looking forward to it, my dear.”

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