Demon Hunters Part 10

“Mhm, turkey and bacon. So, urp, good.”

Tom let out a loud moan as he brought the hearty sandwich to his muzzle and took a bite, mayo exploding from it’s bread enclosure and splattering all over his chins and tank top, which was effectively nothing more than a bra for his moobs; and a pathetic one at that. They barely contained the hairy mounds of flab that threatened to explode each time he moved, only staying on by the miracle of elastic material.

The horse paid no attention to his clothing situation, he was lost in a sea of bliss as he feasted on his lunch. He had been at the diner since breakfast, evident by the massive pile of plates that were at his side. The staff were super busy so they only came by to get plates when they were bringing more food over, it was just too tedious to make so many trips. Tom’s only acknowledgment of this was to glance beyond his belly to see if there was anything left other than his sandwich. There wasn’t, meaning he was due for a refill.

“Urp, ex,-excuse me? Can, belch, can I get another two orders of the turkey, bacon and provolone? With extra mayo? And an order of the special and the filet? Thanks.”

Tom smiled as he saw the waitress give him the thumbs up and then resumed his gluttony. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the food came, so he didn’t have to delay his feasting. He grabbed the sandwich and took another bite, making an even bigger mess. His only realization of this was to take a blubbery mitt, grab a piece of bacon off his chest, and place it on his tongue. Other than that, he made no attempt to clean up or wipe the food that was all over his face. He was still eating, there was no point.

He bit into the sandwich again and felt a rumbling in his stomach. He knew what was about to happen and he just let it. He had always been shy about things but since coming into town he had let things like politeness, anger, competitiveness, and work ethic lapse. He had no problems burping or farting in public, nor did he get angry at the drop of a hat (unless his favorite milk shake, peanut butter swirl, was out). He also no longer cared if he was the best at something, and he certainly did not care about exercise, demon hunting, or getting women. The malaise that had fogged his brain before completely overtook him and the horse wanted nothing more to do than sit on his wide rump and eat to his heart’s content.

And that’s just what he did too.

After convincing their landlord to extend their stay to a year, a switch seemed to go off in Tom’s stomach, as if to say the prior months of over-eating were just a lead up to this. He had packed on 300 pounds in four months but now, just two months later, he had picked up more than 200 pounds, bringing his weight to a very robuts and stout 712.

His belly pressed tightly into the table, with one half stretched out over the counter and the other below it. His hairy flesh covered up a good foot or two in front like this, which was a good thing. Tears in his sweats showed all along the thighs and rear due to his species tendency to be large below the waist and he was no different. His enormous thighs were spread apart as best they could to allow his gut to pour out between them and towards the floor; a destination that seemed to be getting closer by the minute, not the week. His cushy and well padded rump pressed against the back of the cushioned booth and hung over the sides of the seat, a testament to his sizeable haunches.  

His multitude of chins sagged down to his chest, joining along with his shoulders and moobs to form a mass of lard that almost completely swallowed up his neck. His beard had gotten out of control, it was wild and untrimmed and full of food that he barely bothered to take out. He only did so when he smelled something foul, and even then it was just a brief wet napkin and nothing more. He was too lazy to bathe every day, only choosing to do so if he felt sticky and gross (which, while he was both most of the time, he didn’t believe he was).

The only thing that seemed to grow more than his size, or beard, or even laziness, was his libido and the size of his penis. Equestrian’s already are known for their large dicks, and while Tom was no slouch in this category before coming to town, he was now by far trying to develop a third leg to support his monstrous mass of flesh.

He had noticed it at first when he had started gaining; it was hard to miss having to use a looser grip to pee. He had mostly tried to ignore it, but as time had gone on, not only was his dick increasing in size but also in sensitivity. He’d just barely get his pants on and his tip would brush the cotton and he’d feel his body seize up and his cock spring to attention in need and want. He had been able to control it at first but there was no way he could now. Each morning he found he’d have to rub one out before getting dressed.

That’s not to say that ended things for him for the day either, it was just the start. At the diner, as he ate more, his stomach would slope down lower and lower, it’s mass jostling and bouncing against his dick. He’d try to control it, to focus on eating, but, for some reason, this only made him hornier. He’d always been a fan of giants breasts, that was always what got him off but now, eating his fill and then some had him dripping and wanting sex so bad that his cock would jolt up and erect, rubbing his underbelly fiercely until he was shooting a load in his sweats.

This would leave him sweating and barely able to think straight for a few moments, until he then realized he had more food, which would bring his hunger back to the forefront. And then the cycle would play out once more as he continued to eat, his belly swelling, and the rubbing beginning again. It was a loop that was crushing to him, leaving him powerless to stop it. No matter what he did, he just wanted to enjoy it.

Even if Bianca did not want him to.