Jus a little bit of Spitfire's method one treatment: Stuffing, Gas and Fatness!

Life's been a bit difficult to fit in writin' fur tales fer Ol'Squeaks so he figured he'd upload SOMETHIN' until he kind find that time.
After he finds time to flesh out this treatment as well as others he'll likely re-upload it. Sorry the Capn' is so slow an makes promises with his mouth his fingers can' always cash mates ^^;

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METHOD 1: Gas and Fatness

Prt 1

“I think I’ll call you…Windbag.”
This bewildered her, and she was still perfectly capable of incomprehension. Was it a joke about her supposedly well known arrogance? Was he implying she looked chubby?
She didn’t like either implication. It felt like a slight, like an insult to take away her identity and replace it with a rude sound like a pony who had had a few too many Fizzypop sodas and finally had to belch long and loudly at exactly the worst time. Naturally gaseous creatures, pegasi were still extremely touchy about the subject of their internal chemistry.
She felt her skin heat and a blush crawled onto her cheeks, onto the edges of her flanks, into her every nook and cranny. And all of it was on display which made the embarrassment all the worse.
“Now, Windbag, I want you to hold out your hooves for me.”
Immediately she did so. It was difficult to stand with her hooves spread in front of her but still she did it because he’d asked her to.
He pulled down a long red cord of woven silk from where it hung on the bed.
Stooping in front of her he lovingly wrapped the strand around her hooves, then around again.
And again.
Finally he pulled it snugly and tied it off. Not once did the process hurt.
She was frightened but his gentleness and care was almost soothing despite the truth of what he was doing.
Which was tying her front hooves together.
“Now the back. If you please, Windbag. On your knees.”
He helped her to bend her back legs and slump into a position with all of her limbs thrust out front and back, pressed together. Her trim tummy hovered over the floor but she could still almost feel the brush of the cloth covering it.
He returned with another cord and again, cautiously and gracefully, he wrapped her back hooves together until she was completely secured. If she couldn’t have moved before without his permission now she could have barely squirmed despite his commands.
“You won’t need to move, Windbag.” he assured. “It will only be a moment.”
He trotted off to one of the cloth covered walls and reached behind a drape to reach a bell pull hidden from view. After a few strong tugs he returned to her, lifting her off the ground with remarkable ease and placing her on the bed so delicately she barely wrinkled the covers, only barely dipping into the deep mattress.
He admired her from a little ways away, tilting his head to the side. He liked what he saw but she saw mischief in his eyes. She wasn’t nearly the way he wanted. Not yet.
A knock came on the tiny door.
The crystal key came out and the door swung open. In trooped a long line of servants each now wearing the fluffy white cap of a chef and carrying between them what must have been fifty or so cakes fully iced and sliced on silvery platters. They set them down with practiced precision in a semi circle, further cakes taking up the back rows. Still more cakes on taller platters with multiple tiers were brought in to add to the collection of glistening sugary glory.
Spitfire’s lips moistened. Unable to close her mouth entirely she could only drool a little on the coverall.
It was a magnificent spread! The silky texture of the cakes that had been delivered by the slice combined with the thick, luscious icing looked like a month of absolute delight to the sense. With a single slice she might have had a night or two of the finest desert to rival anything from Sugarcube Corner.
“You want this, don’t you?” Night Thunder said beaming as the last of the butlers and maids departed. “All this succulent bounty? Perhaps you might see yourself being even a little extravagant, a little…greedy this evening?”
She nodded her head. This time she had control enough for that much. She was starving and the light wafting smell of cake only made her hunger more intense. She closed her eyes and savored it.
When she opened them he was kneeling in front of the bed, the magic from his horn supporting a cake slice in a nimbus of dark blue magic.
“This isn’t the power of the necklace. This hunger, this desire is you. The real you, Windbag. That uptight shell you live in day to day, the Captain with the stick up her plot…she isn’t the real you.”
He left the cake drift close enough to her lips that the frosting clung to her lips. She stuck out her tongue to delve into the candied cloud.
From a million miles away she could hear his voice.
“All those hours you spend exercising to keep your figure. All those days and nights you only allow yourself the bitter, empty virtue of foods that do not satisfy. You’ve fought so long to remain in condition to impress as an athlete, as a leader. But you’ve truly been fighting against who you are.”
SPLAT.
The cake was shoved into her mouth.
After the initial shock wore off her mouth began working, pushing the foaming mixture of pure whipped delight and spongy interior through her mouth and down into her gullet.
She could feel through the haze of bliss a brisk grooming stroke along her side. As she ate and her stomach quivered to accommodate she could sense Night Thunder’s hooves brush her belly, easing her gorging.
“Good, Windbag. Very good.”
When the cake was gone she felt a little more tight in the middle, but still there was a sensation of loss. She’d almost never allowed herself this kind of abandon before except in very private moments. Sometimes she had confiscated the sweets of cadets to keep them fit for tryouts and alone in her office had felt the call of those chocolates, that thick creamy nougat, those peppy little fruit flavored treats and snuck a few on the side, lapping up the evidence from the corners of her mouth.
The thrill of breaking the rules even just a little bit had felt good despite her unwillingness to admit it.
Now she had no one to stand on ceremony for. No excuse not to indulge except her pride, and that was remarkably easy to ignore when Angel Food cake was being delivered to her so easily.
Another?
Her eyes fluttered open. The taste of the cake and icing was still alive in her mouth, but here was another piece of cake chosen from the huge collection of the same, so laden with frosting it was dripping onto the bedspread while hovering in the air.
“Another.” Night Thunder prompted.
She didn’t think. Her tongue and then her teeth went to work and despite the mess it must have been making all over her face she didn’t care. She wanted the heart of the piece; to gobble down every delicious bite and leave nothing behind to regret. It might have haunted her dreams to know some of the cake hadn’t made it inside her. The taste would linger and when it was gone she was afraid she’d forget all the wonderful feelings it had woken up across her entire body.
She was panting between bites. It was so wonderful!
This indulgence. This horseplay. So exciting! So heavenly! So gratifying!
So nourishing. So substantial.
So…cumbersome.
As the cake was demolished down to the dregs she began to feel the experience wearing a little bit thin. Two big pieces of cake was about all she could ask for at any one time during special occasions and had been all she’d allowed herself to have before this. It was an extravagance to have one piece so large, let alone two, and her innards weren’t accustomed to such rich food in such weighty amounts.
Pegasi do not like to discuss their internal chemistry. Like any foal or filly learning the birds and the bees there came a time in any fliers life that they had to have ‘the talk’. Because creatures in Equestria the size of pegasi would not normally be able to be carried aloft, even with powerful wings, their bodies had evolved a form of compensation for maintaining a body the size of a small horse but still allowing it to hover and to speed through the clouds.
Whereas the normal variety of Earth pony would convert their roughage to methane after processing, Pegasi turned their own bodily emissions into helium instead. With just a little in their systems this allowed the fliers to remain airborne with little difficulty.
Buildup from over-consumption, excitement, trapped gas because of obstructed passages…all of this was rare but not unheard of. The young pegasi learned to manage this potentially embarrassing biological reaction and even become friends with the concept since it provided their buoyancy.
But there were horror stories of fillies and colts becoming quite puffy at inopportune times, of pegasi bullies using plugs to force their hapless victims into becoming nearly spherical, and the wildest stories even suggested that pent up fliers could even…
Her lips opened and she let out a quick, sharp burp.
The momentary release of her distress was replaced quickly by her dawning realization she’d bleached right into Night Thunder’s face. His hair was still shifting back to rest when she closed her mouth, blushing furiously.
“I’m…sorry.” she whispered.
He’d allowed her to speak, but only those words.
Only when she unconsciously performed actions would the charm in her necklace allow her free will.
Far from looking unhappy Night Thunder just chuckled, taking a deep breath.
“Sugar.” he said, satisfied. “Not unpleasant at all. I imagine by the third piece we can expect more from you, perhaps from another direction.”
Any words she might have said were quickly muffled by another slice of cake, pushed into her with more urgency then the others. She practically had to eat or begin to have trouble breathing.
It was like fighting through a lathery brume, each working of her throat allowing her more and more room to take in air.
When she had finished the cake had lost it’s luster. The flavor had flattened out and she wouldn’t have minded much if that had been the last piece she might have for days after this one. Maybe any candied sort of food. Or any food at all.
Her gut rumbled irritably. She could hear a stealthy hiss filling her insides.
“That’s it…” Night Thunder coaxed.
He rubbed her midsection, eliciting all the more turmoil within. Spitfire groaned and squirmed.
“It’s starting out, but it needs more encouragement.” he decided at last. “And more fuel.”