Sequel to >>1711766

In part 2 of our little stuffing endeavor we can see that a couple of months have passed.

The effects of being constantly stuffed mercilessly can be clearly seen on our not-so-little-any-more former athlete.

Dashie has grown into a soft mare, a general coating of chub covering her whole body.

Her ass has gained some serious padding, bloating up to twice its initial bony size and her face is beginning to be framed by softness, her cheeks gaining an adorable thickness that begs you to pinch them, particularly when they are filled with the latest food-stuff getting crammed down her maw and she looks up at you in defeat with those drooped ears.

Both her back and chest have also softened up a bit, covering her weakening muscles up, especially the ones on her back connected to her wings which are breaking down due to lack of exercise and Celestia-knows-what her captor is feeding and injecting into her.

Her wings hang down her sides pathetically, too weak to even lift her properly by now – all they do now is make her weak and fat body jiggle all over, a too painful reminder of what her captor has done to her.

They touch upon her belly – easily the biggest part of her.

Always stuffed, always growing. Currently her stomach is stuffed so much it bloats her gut to the size of full term triplets – that is if there wasn’t the additional layer of pudge covering all of it and adding a fatty pocket at the bottom of it.

It doesn’t hurt as much any more as it did in the beginning of the ordeal, but being stuffed all the time is exhausting to her. Dash finds herself being more and more tired, weak and dazed by each day. To add to her shame she has started to feel an odd throbbing in her nether regions, especially her teats. She doesn’t know that her captor has been feeding her copious amounts of fertility drugs and hormones and given her injections of all kinds to facilitate the weakening of her muscles and encourage the growth of her teats – which by now, unbeknownst to her due to the fact she can’t see them past her low hanging gut, have plumped up to the size of apples already.

A noise snaps her out of her daze of mindlessly chewing whatever she was currently eating – she has now taken to eating the meals she gets served, even if somewhat reluctantly. It was either that or getting the hose again and given those choices she went for the option that gave her at least some minor form of control of her situation.

“Aaah, I see you’ve already eaten dinner, my little piggy!” – a fresh set of tears wells up in her eyes, Dash hates being called his fat piggy – “Time for dessert. I got you your favorite, cookies and milk!“

She doesn’t know what it is that makes her captor so obsessed with those damned cookies, but he makes sure to cram several dozens down her maw and washing them down with at least a gallon of slightly odd-tasting milk every day.

“Say aaaah!”

Bound as she currently is, she can’t see that the milk-cartons still have her picture on them.

Followup here:

>>1749757