“…And here we have our largest asset of this establishment, with concern to weight of course,” The trim, upmarket butler character began as he led a tour of even classier ponies through the enclosure of the fattest thing to ever grace the floors of City’s most outlandish brothel, L’Objet Absurde.
 
Before them was a unicorn beneath a formless pile of rolls and folds of fat, all accumulated to satisfy an insatiable hunger in the pony’s stomach—one that eclipsed the volume of the heartiest of the four visitors by a factor of 20. The belly of the gelatin giant moved rhythmically as a fattening substance was pumped in through his maw under the observation of a stewardess. His tummy glowed with a soft red through his pink coat. And with his blissful smile still able to be seen past his luscious cheeks, it was as if the strain of being filled to the brim was a soothing pleasure to the eternally engorged unicorn.
 
Unlike the other odd and oddly erotic ponies that had been shown on the tour today, this unicorn seemed to be getting the deal of his life behind the walls of the brothel. Unlike the spatial issues that the giantesses had to deal with, or the rigorous workouts that the uber-muscular had to endure, this unicorn had nothing to do but open wide and fill his stomach, with everything else around him catered to his expanding needs. Even his housing was an example of this; the arena of his hedonism he was happily confined to read more like a tastefully decorated hanger than a single pony’s living quarters. Then again, this was hardly for a single pony at this point.
 
There was silence brought on by the awe and slight arousement among three of the four well-paying guests for half a minute before their sober guide ushered them further into the room. A few trots in, the oppressive atmosphere surrounding the porcine monolith became apparent. The air conditioning being vented through dozens of units above proved partially effective against the heat but struggled to rid the air of its humidity immediately around the pink pile.
 
“-After acquiring Reverie Wish here at a mere 534 pounds, we here at L’Objet have made sure that all of Mr. Wish’s time here is devoted to growing as large as lavishness can allow an equine to be for your viewing and… ahem, tactile pleasure.”
 
After trotting by Wish, the butler gave a quick, demonstrative prod with his hoof into his doughy tummy fat, eliciting a stark ‘Glorp’ from his internals before Wish even bothered to let out a satisfied moan.  
In his defense, he was very distracted by his… work.
 
As the butler pulled out an umbrella to protect his suit against the stray bits of fluid that dribbled form Wish’s lips, he spouted instructions for the tour group.
 
“You may touch Mr. Wish as you wish, but do try to touch his coat with as little hoof as possible. And please, be mindful of all sharp appendages around our corpulent companion”
 
A long minute of high-contact action ensured between most of the group and the blobs bulk. Wish always saw it as a massive massage to his voluptuous flesh rather than the excessive groping it technically was after passing the two-ton mark. The second-largest in the group, Fleur de Lis, with her controversial, yet elegantly curved form, felt so invited by this glutenous display in front of her, that she began to rub her plush form against the sea of warm, rose-tinted fur. Upon seeing this, Fancy Pants had realized that their anniversary trip to L’Objet had turned out greater than anything he had hoped for.
 
Hoity Toity and Filthy Rich had their own had mixed reactions between the two of them. Filthy was disgusted by this obscenity, which was made evident by his lurid remarks against the bulk.
 
“You… augh, I can’t even think of an animal the size of you—let alone one that you couldn’t eat in a sitting! And ponies call ME greedy…”
 
In contrast, Hoity, being thrice the weight of Filthy on a bad day, was excited to a point of near-mania as he rubbed and lifted up the fat before him, soaking in the tactile experience of touching the most pampered pony of all history.
 
“Oh, you glorious, glorious steppe of a stallion. What I wouldn’t give to roll you onto a catwalk—not as a model, but as a one pony exhibition!”
 
The pleasured chuckles, sighs of bliss, and one voice of fearful disgust could be heard from the four below. But these sounds were nearly overshadowed by the guttural wails of satisfaction coming out of Wish’s stuffed mouth.
 
This experience… is exactly what craved. Filling… attention… being an ever-growing spotlight… It all added on to the concluding fulfillment of a need that he could never satiate on his own. His talent wasn’t even food-related. It was imagination. And ever since he was little, his fantasies ran wild. Wilder than any sane pony would ever even contemplate pursuing. No longer did his fantasies have to live on in illusion. Now, being the endless eating entity that had dreamt to be, life was even better than his dreams…
 
Mostly because any time he wasn’t gaining weight was a nightmare, but still.
 
The Butler interjected with a load of exposition for his enthralled entourage
 
“Some interesting details about Mr. Wish for your enjoyment. By the end of the day, he will hold 250 gallons of a cream-based shake within him; over 2 million calories. Any other sustenance just won’t do enough damage to his girth to satisfy him now. He might be the only pony in existence to turn down a box of Bamarian fudge on the condition that it is not “unhealthy enough”. This Ice cream diet isn’t just a dietary necessity, however. As it became apparent that upon reaching a certain point in size, he needed a “Coolant” to keep from cooking from within. This, and Mr. Wish’s exceptional level of magic within him, allowed his body to be pushed to the extremes you see before you. His constant feast is made on-site in 12 different flavors, with a heat resistance potion mixed in as well. I am told it adds a cherry-like taste.”
 
“Mr. Wish himself is soon to be open for questions at the end of the tour. However, there are issues with his articulation, as his size has made conversations rather one-sided, I’m afraid.”
 
“Err, what issues, do tell?” Hoity curiously asked.
 
The butler raised a brow, only to give a sharp nod to the stewardess that acted as the secretary to Wish’s stuffing. With a nod back from the stewardess atop her stylish scaffolding, she closed a valve on the feeding apparatus and tugged the mouthpiece out of Wish’s moth with an audible pop.
 
Wish was stunned by the sudden change in his diet and had only a few syllables to articulate his thoughts before his “articulation issues” kicked in.
 
“Ughh… Whut? Why tha—brrROOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOUUUuuuuUURrrrppp!”
 
Just one of the many debilitating belches that would come from Wish throughout the day was enough to startle the four. They were now experiencing the true power behind the stallion’s steel-stomach. Hoity rolled onto his side as he tried scampering, almost crushing a cowering Filthy, who would’ve instantly shot a lawsuit at him. Instead, he managed to find ground ti trembled on behind Fancy Pants and Fleur—grabbing onto each other tightly. The two ponies of the establishment didn’t even flinch at the magnitude of belching that had become standard between them. The touring Butler just stood there with a smirk as the four pulled themselves back together. At least until Hoity had to ask for help getting up.
 
“Mhhmph… Ahh, Ok… Now…M-more… URRP!” Wish still unbelievably demanded from the stewardess. She obliged to his demands and swung the hose close enough to the blubber balloon’s lips for him to suckle back onto it. The lever was pulled back, and Wish continued his infinite intake of a sugary vanilla slurry.
 
“Any more questions concerning our most gluttonous guest?” the butler asked.
 
“Oh—OH, yes! I must know if hiring Mr. Wish for a private event is within question?” Pants asked feverously, with an eager giggle coming from his wide wife as well.
 
“Hmph, pardon my assumption, sir—but I was under the impression that you lived in a villa, not in a drydock,” the butler quipped back.
 
“That… could absolutely be arranged if necessary!” Pants stated, still clambering to the idea.
 
“Ah, that was meant to be humorous sir. It is literally easier to move the Sun than it is Mr. Wish.”
 

 
A request that I just had to indulge in from someone who probably still wants to be anonymous, with his OC Reverie Wish.  
Maybe a bit heavy with the world building on this one…