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Uma Mooma
🕑 Added 2025-11-06 23:53:14 +0000 UTCA big, slobby Uma Musume story
Series: Umamusume
Characters: Bakushin, Gold Ship, Super Creek, Symboli Rudolf, Oguri Cap, Mihono Bourbon, Maruzensky, Rice Shower, El Condor Pasa
Contains: Weight gain, light health issues, slob, gas
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Tracen Academy was a renowned institution known for expertly training Umamusume. Its halls were lined with trophies and accolades proving its reputation was earned.
However, these Umamusume were known for something beside their speed and tenacity…their appetites. While they looked like petite young women with horse ears and tails, they also boasted the appetites of full grown horses.
This was fine, at first. The Umas loved to train and race, so their weight was kept in check. Things only spiraled when Tracen Academy found a new sponsor for their meals. Portion sizes suddenly increased, which every Uma loved. Some Uma, like Ougiri Cap, already devoured monstrous portions regularly. It was the hidden calorie increase that doomed every waistline in Tracen Academy.
Obesity swept through like a tide. Slender bodies were buried in flab. Property damage ranged from shattered chairs to destroyed doorframes. Beds collapsed nightly, suitable clothing was in short supply, and hallways were often clogged with morbidly obese horse girls.
These were all surface level issues. Further investigation revealed more hygienic conundrums. Umas were constantly coated in a sheen of sweat, stretched uniforms were dabbed with sauce and crumbs, and noxious gas constantly erupted from both ends. The prestigious academy now resembled a pigsty.
Thus, a grand scrimmage match was proposed. Tracen Academy needed to prove they still produced quality racers! Nine racers were selected for this. The number was chosen because that’s as many Umas as the organizers could fit on the track. Lined hip to hip, there would be hardly any room at the start. The different racing strategies would open some space after the first stretch, but everyone behind the design anxiously held their breath.
Though held breath helped tolerate the smell, too…
A cloudy day was selected in the hopes cooler temperatures would reduce sweat. Umamusume were known just as much for their beautiful, custom outfits as their skill. The organizers wanted to show off the newly sized race gear instead of blinding guests with light reflected from sweat-soaked fat.
The Umas were all ready to race, though their physiques hardly displayed it. Enlarged start gates weren’t ready in time, so the racers were lined side to side. Each idle shift in stance caused them to squish against anyone next to them. Silent apologies were exchanged to save their breath. All were aware they’d need every ounce of oxygen to power through the medium race.
“Bakushin!”
Well, all but one knew how important their air was.
“Bakushin! Bakushin! Bakushin!” Sakura Bakushin O sang out and bounced excitedly. In the past, she would have run in place. She would throw her knees up in the air excitedly. Part of her wanted to do that, but it wasn’t possible. Her padded knees dug into the underside of her belly, which caused it to jiggle like a mass of pudding. Flab wobbled back and forth like a toiling sea.
Bakushin’s belly was heavy and mostly round. There was a subtle wave to it, but it failed to divide into two rolls. It hung from her torso and sagged to just beyond her knees. It was relatively wide, stretching with the width of her hips. Meaty love handles rested at her sides upon plush hips. Bakushin had formerly been slender, with lithe hips. They had grown wider, but not to extreme lengths. She was three times as wide as she used to be, and this was considered small in Tracen Academy.
Comparatively narrow hips didn’t necessarily mean Bakushin lacked a bulbous, blubbery butt. Her march in place didn’t send her knees very high, but her backside bounced and wobbled wildly. Her racing shorts struggled to hold the boxy cheeks back. Small holes and tears had already formed. Bubbles of fat poked through the small gaps, but they couldn’t yet burst free.
“Keep those BakuSHINS going!” Symboli Rudolf said, giggling softly at her joke. The sound turned more awkward when the target of the pun failed to hear it. “Perhaps I should hone my wit further.” She murmured and glanced toward Bakushin again. There had to be something to joke about.
Rudolf placed her hand to her chin. Soft fingers sank into a thick second chin, still littered with crumbs from her pre-race snack. Thick wrists connected to puffy forearms, then a bulbous upper arm. The limb was thicker than a pillow and filled Rudolf’s sleeves to near bursting.
Rudolf’s uniform was meant to evoke the powerful energy of an emperor. Now it was so stretched and stained that it looked more like the garb of a slob that lived behind their desk. No buttons were closed, instead leaving the green jacket open. This displayed full, voluptuous breasts. Each was thrice the size of Rudolf’s head. Despite the size, they were surprisingly perky, though that was less surprising when one noticed her belly.
A heaving mound of blubber, a boulder-shaped mass of pure fat. Rudolf’s belly was pushed upward by a strained belt. This allowed it to act as support for her breasts. However, the gut was also too large to reach around. Many papers had been knocked off Rudolf’s desk well before her hands could grab them. She had also developed a habit of bumping into things. Her stomach had broken two shelves and sent Tokai Teio rolling down a hall. (Admittedly, Rudolf hadn’t seen the shorter Uma when she turned).
Fat continued into wide hips. An ill-fitting skirt was draped over the lumps of fat. They curved out smoothly before they tucked into pillar-like thighs contained in skin-tight stockings. Rounding out Rudolph’s lower body was, ironically, a sagging and flabby pair of butt cheeks. They made soft cushions when Rudolf sat at her desk, but upright they sagged and wobbled constantly. This in turn-
PBBBBBBLLLLLFFFFFFFTTTTTTBBBBTTTT!
Caused Rudolph’s farts to sound quite unique,
Rudolph tried to smile confidently, but her cheeks were bright red. “Ehem…excuse me.”
Rice Shower waved her hand in front of her face. Her short height had her partially caught in the gas cloud. It was something she had to get used to. Her waistline might march onward, but her height remained the same.
Rice Shower boasted hips wider than Rudolf and Bakushin’s. That didn’t account for sagging either. Rice’s hips were sizable lumps of fat that stretched wider than double doors. After that, they sagged down until they were level with her knees. These hanging masses of fat jiggled with every step, swayed with her turns, and dripped with sweat. Her skirt splayed over as much fat as they could, but there was too little fabric. Full feet of pale fat were exposed and shimmered with sweat.
Rice Shower’s legs had become incredibly bloated. There was even doubt she’d be able to race. Her legs squished together from upper thigh to meaty cankle. Flabby rolls stacked like pancakes, lower legs swelled into blubbery cones, and cankle rolls touched the ground.
Rice Shower’s belly mimicked her legs in shape. It was saggy and covered in rolls. This caused the front of her dress to stretch and morph. Each belly roll was squished together in the tight confines, their details expertly cast through the material. Rice occasionally tugged on the fabric. This did little more than coat her fingers in sweat…and stain her dress with more food residue.
Further up, Rice most resembled her former petite self. Her chest hardly gained any curves. Her arms were puffy, but hardly comparable to the flabbier bingo wings of her friends. Then, despite these petite aspects, Rice had puffy cheeks and a rounded chin. It didn’t look out of place, though. These just made Rice look cuter.
‘This race will be hard.’ Rice thought and continued to fiddle with belly rolls. ‘I used to have the stamina for this, but I don’t know anymore.’ She looked up at the overcast sky. ‘This weather might be my fault, too.’
A sudden bump caught Rice’s attention. She looked left at Mihono Bourbon. The Uma didn’t look back, but Rice sensed her friend picked up on her anxieties. The gesture was small, but it meant a lot to her. She smiled, nodded, and turned forward.
Bourbon caught that from the corner of her eye. The smallest sliver of a smile crossed her face. However, it was so subtle that her puffy cheeks hardly detected.
Bourbon’s face was rounder than a dinner plate. Her cheeks were full, round, and bulbous, so large that they rested upon her shoulders. (That was partially because her shoulders were so thick). The cheeks connected with a large extra chin, which laid atop a rounded neck.
Thick arms rested slightly ajar, thick underarms squishing against slab-like rolls of side fat. Bourbon occasionally scratched at herself, but her arms remained otherwise idle.
Some audience members couldn’t distinguish arm fat from surrounding fat. Bourbon’s chest was immense, with breasts more wide than anything else. They were like partially deflated beach balls squished into her race wear.
Beneath Bourbon’s breasts were a wide pair of belly wings. These rolls formed to the left and right of her gut but failed to connect. Instead, there was a valley between them that spread to the rest of her belly. Bourbon’s stomach was astonishingly wide and sagged well-past her knees. She was easily one of the fattest Umas in this race. Fat rolled on and on until a cleft was formed by her leotard. This cleft acted as the main stream for sweat to pour.
Bourbon’s clothes were stained an off color from relentless sweating. Exposed shin looked greasy from the unbelievable moisture. Droplets rolled rapidly over curves. Occasionally they maintained constant streams.
Sweat managed to pool atop Bourbon’s hips. They were wider than Rice Shower’s by far. Bourbon had accumulated enough ass fat that Rice could lie atop it like a mattress. Bakushin and Rudolf’s combined hips failed to match the enormous Uma. Her skirt hardly stretched around her waist, fat rolled and folded over fabric and itself, and her tail could hardly be seen.
Thick legs somehow held Bourbon up. Her thighs were mostly round, but they squished together. There was some space between her lower legs, and her cankles were tucked into her socks. Rice’s legs raised locomotive concerns, but hardly anyone could explain how Bourbon managed to stand. Die hard fans contributed to her being a cyborg.
However, Bourbon’s constant wheezing tarnished that image. “Puff…wheeze…Cooling systems failed…need huff maintenance.” She tried to suck in a deep breath only to blow ten times the air behind her.
FFFFFRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT
Rice Shower coughed shortly after.
The next two racers stood so close together that they were practically in the same spot. A starting gate would have prevented such interaction, and that’s perhaps why Super Creek took this opportunity.
“I have a rice ball, here’s some yakitori, and some fried chicken.” Super Creek pulled the food from her bag, and held it in front of Oguri Cap. “Good girl, eat up so you have plenty of energy!”
Oguri ate anything offered without question. She had stuffed herself before the match, but her stomach was a bottomless pit. Her eating was almost a subconscious act. “Tasty UUUURRRRRPPPP!”
The two Umas were often found together. Super Creek was always doting on and feeding her gluttonous friend. It was no surprise that Oguri was obese, but some wondered how Super Creek kept pace.
Super Creek had fuller, rounder cheeks, but Oguri had a more prominent second chin. Super Creek somehow managed to keep her face spotless from food mess. Oguri would lick anything near her mouth, but smudges remained on her cheek until Super wiped them away.
Oguri’s build was relatively balanced. Fat had found room to settle everywhere on her body, but it all dragged downward. Just a glance revealed the weightiness of her excess blubber. Creek, meanwhile, was covered in voluptuous mounds of rounded fat.
Oguri’s shoulders slumped and were thicker near the elbow, and Super Creek’s upper arms were as large around as water wings. It was like the difference between a new pillow primed and full of feathers vs one that had been slept on nightly for over a year. Both were soft, but one had more undeniable fluff to it.
Perhaps the difference in shape originated in use, or lack thereof, for Oguri. Super Creek’s constant presence meant Oguri didn’t have to feed herself much. Her arms could lazily stay by her sides. Meanwhile, Creek ferried forkfuls (or sometimes handfuls) of food to her friend’s face. It didn’t make her arms strong, but it toned the shape.
That was probably just conjecture. The duo’s chests shared the same shape and texture relationship as their arms. Oguri’s breasts were nearly twice the size of basketballs and sagged noticeably. Most of the support they had was from her belly. Creek, however, had breasts nearly as large as beach balls. They were full, voluptuous, perky, and bounced at the slightest provocation. There was no specific movement to create this discrepancy. It was merely how the blubbery dice rolled.
The trend continued as Oguri’s belly sagged past her knees. It was widest in the middle, nearly a food of flabby love handles spilling over her hips. It tucked slightly inward to be narrower than her thighs. That hardly mattered when it was such a thick apron of pure fat. It was one of the fattest bellies amongst Umas, and it likely had the largest capacity.
Creek’s stomach hung as low, but it wasn’t as wide. There was a slight wave to it, but the lower portion of her gut was so large that it was hardly noticed in the shadow of her breasts. This lower belly was incredibly round, hampered only but the outward curve. The sloping curves were as smooth as a masterfully crafted statue. However, the softness was akin to the downy fluff of an angel’s wings.
When it came to hips, Creek reigned over Oguri. Her supple and perky flab allowed her hips to roll and flare outward. It took much longer before gravity forced the thick fat to curve downward. Meanwhile, Oguri’s hips were hardly visible. Her love handles poured over them, and she managed to have a skirt that fit.
Similarly, Oguri’s butt was boxier. Thick but relatively flat. It could jam doorways, crush seats, and fill a two-person couch, but it hardly claimed attention. Super Creek’s cheeks were full, round, and practically uncovered. Yes, she wore panties and a dress, but that wasn’t enough to fully conceal them. Each step made them bounce, and fabric was tossed about. Thus, more and more creamy, smooth skin was visible. They even clapped against each other if Creek waddled faster.
Both Uma had thighs that squished together. Oguri’s were lumpier and covered in folds. Her leggings stretched over most of them, but holes sprouted up occasionally. Each hole allowed a bubble of pale fat to poke free. Their jiggling then caused the holes to widen. It seemed inevitable that a great tear would form, and more pale thigh fat would be exposed.
Creek’s boots were made to fit much better. They widened and stretched around her plump calves and rounded shins. Then they managed to widen further around her barrel-sized thighs. They looked utterly ridiculous when not squeezed around Creek’s legs, but the craftsmanship was the best on the field. It also tastefully displayed her upper thighs. The energy was the total opposite of Oguri’s leggings.
“Hahaha! This race is as good as mine!” The next Uma declared boisterously. “I’m certain I’ll even have the energy to wrestle after! Perhaps second place will challenge El Condor Pasa!”
The luchadora Uma seemed fully confident in her strength and stamina, but she was visibly coated in sweat. It poured from her in torrents. It pooled in rolls until the volume became too much. Then, it spilled into the next roll and repeated the cycle.
El’s entire body was consumed in rolls. Her face was rounded and boasted three chins. Her shoulders folded over themselves before flabby upper arms rolled before and after the elbow. Another roll managed to squeeze itself in before her wrists had the chance to start their roll.
To say her breasts were rolled would be incorrect…however, each boob was noticeably flabby. So, some had come to say her boobs were just a pair of rolls on her chest.
El boasted a sizable double belly; the lower roll managed to reach her upper thigh. It wasn’t an astoundingly wide stomach, but it was densely packed with fat. It roiled like a cauldron, gurgling with the extreme efforts of digestion. The Uma filled it with spicy food as if she were fueling an insatiable engine. That was partially correct as El Condor Pasa boasted a…booster of sorts.
PBBBBBFFFFFFRRRRRRRRTTTTTT!
The sound violently exploded from El’s flabby butt. The wobbly cheeks hardly muffled the noise, instead allowing the sound to reverberate. El wasn’t the widest of Umas, but she boasted a boxy pair of butt cheeks that quaked with every step. That quake turned into a discordant wave of jiggles whenever El moved at more than a leisurely hobble.
Broad thighs flowed and rolled, fat bunching up multiple times before it rolled passed her burdened knees. These rolls were so well-defined that they’d clap together when El ran. The upward bounce and downward crash resembled the flapping wings of El’s pet bird, Mambo. Despite El’s weight, her legs did manage to carry her almost with the grace of Mambo’s powerful wings. Though Mambo could fly much further than El could run.
Maruzensky looked down the track. She was about as ready for the race as she could be…but she was in a bit of a sad mood. She had gained weight just like the other Uma, but it came with a severe consequence for her…
SHE COULDN’T FIT IN HER CAR ANYMORE!
Maruzensky possessed a driver’s license and a car she loved almost as much as life itself, but she had gotten too fat to fit inside it. Her hips were too wide for the seat. Even if her left butt cheek rolled over the center console, her right protruded too much to close the door. This wasn’t accounting for the fact that her sofa cushion-sized cheeks were so fat that they took up the entire seat.
The mass of her butt cheeks, paired with her belly in making it impossible to fit into the seat. She was forced so far forward that her belly dug into the steering wheel. It was impossible to turn when it was so deeply pressed into her rounded gut.
Issues only compounded from there. Her thighs were thick and rounded like pillars. Bulging thighs swelled too wide, and she couldn’t bend her knees at an angle that provided any comfort. Theoretically, Maruzensky could step on the gas pedal…but it would be impossible to move it to hit the brakes.
Her arms were equally discordant. Her right arm was too short to reach past her hip to grab the door, and neither could reach around her front to grab the wheel. The meaty masses of her upper arms would press against her breasts, and there was no way to squeeze around them. The more she tried, the more she would force her bust upward. Then she wouldn’t be able to see the road in front of her!
With a substantial hourglass build, Maruzensky’s bust was as much an obstacle as her butt. Two egregiously heavy and voluptuous breasts reached far enough that they rolled over the steering wheel and rested on the dashboard. They blocked any view of the speedometer or what gear selection was set to. The last time Maruzensky tried, two hundred pounds ago, she had gone full speed in reverse.
The one solace in it all was that Maruzensky would soon be the owner of a supercharged mobility scooter. Just the thought forced a smile on her face. Her tail even began to wag despite being mostly buried in her butt.
“Maybe this race will make me feel better, too. I’ll do my best and earn that scooter!” Maruzensky grinned and started to get herself pumped. The rhythm of a song, one certainly not considered classic, drummed in her head. This movement also stirred her last meal. Her belly gurgled, but that reminded her of her beloved car. It might be gone, but her stomach was the engine that lived on in its stead!
The final racer only just arrived. Gold Ship waddled to the only space left in line, a half-eaten carrot burger in her mouth with another in her hands. “Mfff fmfmmf gmfmfmf.” The words were unintelligible. There was no way to tell if they were directed to Maruzensky beside her or if she talked to herself.
This was perfectly routine for Gold Ship.
Gold Ship was perhaps the most well-adjusted Uma. She took obesity in stride and incorporated any complications into her usual eccentric behavior.
Gold Ship was undoubtedly bottom-heavy. Her bulk was widest at her belly and hips, but she still boasted a rounded face, meaty arms, and breasts twice the size of her head.
Those didn’t stand out as much as a giant round belly. It was an oval shape, stretching much wider than it did rise or slope. It only curled to her upper thighs as it was tightly stuffed into her racing uniform. The incredibly taut fabric caused a dark hole to appear over a belly button large enough to fit one’s fist into.
Closer inspection revealed just how bunched up Gold Ship’s belly was. Her love handles were tightly packed and rounded, so they looked like an inflatable tube running around her waist. Despite that, anyone who watched her move would see wobbling that could only be pure fat. Each love handle was so thick that two hands were needed to grab them.
Directly below these love handles were broad hips that stretched out an extra few inches. It was enough width that Gold Ship’s left hip touched the outer wall, and the right hip pressed against Maruzensky. This created a chain reaction, so all the Uma were now hip to hip with barely any wiggle room.
It was clear that the risk of being blocked was higher than ever with this race…
Behind Gold Ship was a butt just as broad and ovular as her front. Tight leggings wrapped around the cheeks like a second skin. The addition of a flood of sweat made it stick to her first skin! Some patches of white fabric were so saturated that they were transparent.
The strained and sweat-soaked fabric continued around Gold Ship’s legs. Each was wider across than a barrel yet almost the exact shape. They bulged to their roundest and thickest toward the middle, squished together, and folded over her knees. Her calves and shins looked like smaller versions of her thighs, and her feet weren’t visible at all.
The sidelines hummed with excitement as the race was set to start soon. Umas took up an entire section with their bulk, and the local public filled in the others. Sometimes the Uma would mix and mingle with other people, but their size made that too difficult today.
They also had a collective smell that kept most away…
“It looks like everyone is ready.” Tazuna Hayakawa, the secretary to the director, said. She looked down, past her sizable bust and belly to the pallet in front of her.
On that pallet was the director of Tracen Academy, Yayoi Akikawa. “Umazing! Time to show everyone that a little pudge won’t slow our students down!” She exclaimed and tried to wave her signature fan.
Both had shown up to watch the race. To no one’s surprise, they were just as obese as all the Uma. The director looked like a flabby pile of pancakes, devoid of solid shape aside from rolls. Tazuna was at least as curvaceous as she was round…
The Umas readied themselves. Some tried to widen their stance and lean forward. Rudolph put her weight on one foot, ready to blast forward. Gold Ship…finished her second carrot burger. The crowd fell silent, except for an anxious gas burst from a spectating Uma.
“Begin!” Director Akikawa exclaimed. Her arms were too fat to raise above her shoulders, but thankfully, Tazuna grabbed her by a thick wrist.
The Uma dashed forward in a sudden burst. The speeds varied, but one thing was common. Every racer let out a noxious, booming BRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFTTTTTT! The nearest spectators had to cover their mouths and noses as the gas cloud hit them.
Bakushin quickly took the lead, chanting her signature, “Bakushin Bakushin Bakushin!” Her legs pumped with surprising speed. On top of that, the movement was powerful. Each step required her leg to lift her belly. Her knees dug into the fat that barely draped over them, and the mound of fat was tossed upward. More impressive was how she didn’t falter when her belly slammed back against her thighs with each stride. Bakushin was like an unstoppable engine!
Though like an engine, there was exhaust.
Bakushin’s chant was intermingled with blasts of gas. The song didn’t reach anyone’s ears besides her own. Other racers or spectators just heard (and smelled) BBBBRRRRRRTTTT PFFFFFFFTTTTTT FFFFFRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!
That was one reason the other frontrunners stayed slightly to the side. Maruzensky was further to the outside, but not enough to slow her. ‘I can push past in the final corner,’ she thought. Pushing for a sizable lead after maintaining a good position was her specialty.
All Maruzensky had to think of was her new scooter! Her victory lap would be upon that! She became distracted by this and ignored obvious signs of fatigue. Sweat poured over her, and her racing outfit developed discolored patches of sweat. Her chest also felt incredibly tight…
Either way, Maruzensky continued to run. She didn’t notice how her body resisted everything about her running style. Her wide hips and sagging butt cheeks were foils that caught the wind as she ran. The heavy swinging of her breasts threw her steps out of balance. It was the opposite of Bakushin, who used power as well as speed to maintain her stride.
Bourbon, the final frontrunner, stayed closer to the inner wall. It was the most efficient place, even if Bakushin had the lead. She was close enough that there was little risk of being boxed in. All she had to do was focus on the race and power on.
Easier said than done.
Bourbon felt her body resist every movement. She had felt off standing at the starting line, and bursting into a sprint made that worse. ‘Sweating past expected parameters…vision blurry…heart seizing.’ Bourbon wheezed as her head rolled lopsidedly. “Require…maintenance.”
PPPPBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRTTTTTTT!
Bourbon began to blast gas. Her lard-encased legs smacked her belly. That compounded upon all her other issues. Her form faltered like Maruzensky’s, and she could only maintain speed.
Behind the struggling cyborg was Rice Shower. She had been nervous about this race, but her plan to follow Bourbon had given her resolve. Unfortunately, that resolve was blown away with repeated farts. Rice’s short height put her in the direct path of Bourbon’s now constant gas.
FRRRRRRTTTTTT! “Behhh…” BRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTT! “Oh no…” PPPPPPPPBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTT! “Cough cough! I can’t see…” The gas was so intense that Rice’s eyes started to water. She held her hands out in front of her, hoping to guide her. That threw her balance off, and she wobbled wildly. Her hips bounced chaotically, which forced the other pace chasers away from the inner wall.
To make things worse, Rice’s right hip slammed against the inner wall. Her skirt caught and was torn off as she ran. “Ehhhh?!” Rice squeaked as she felt a stronger breeze on her butt. Most of her butt cheeks were already exposed, but this still embarrassed her. Her anxiety spiked, her belly grumbled, and a string of rapid-fire gas burst forth. Smaller rapid blasts of FFFRRRTTT PBBBTTT FTTTSSSSS were occasionally interrupted by booming blasts of FFFfffffFFFRRRRrrrrrRRRRRbbbbbbbbtttTTTTTTtttttTTTTTTRRRRrrRRRTTTtttTTTT!!! The sound rose and fell in one continuous blast that had onlookers shocked. Rice was a fatty like the others, but her short height and reserved disposition made the monstrous fart very uncharacteristic.
Rice stopped thinking clearly. She was blinded by tears and noxious fumes. Her embarrassment was beyond reasoning. She wanted to finish the race and be done. This caused her to rush. She pushed herself too fast and ran into Bourbon.
Bourbon’s condition hadn’t improved. She reached across her chest with one blubbery arm and squeezed her left boob. “HUFF…WHEEEEEEZE Cannot…maintian…” Bourbon had slowed down, her heart seized in her chest. It was another factor in Rice crashing into her.
Both Umas toppled to the ground. Bourbon’s face was caught by her chest, and she could do nothing to lift herself. Rice’s face slid down the thick rolls of Bourbon’s back fat and finally squished against her butt cheeks.
“Requesting…maintenance…and carrots,” Bourbon murmured into her chest. Her exhaustion was too great, and she fainted. Without conscious control, any gas inside her was summarily released. BWWWWWWWWWWMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPRRRRRRTTTTTT!
Rice was left in a predicament. She didn’t have the ability to stand. Her lower body was so heavy that she would need help to get up. The other racers were out of the question, and no one could enter the field until it was over. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She knew her butt was in the air, which embarrassed her more than having her face against Bourbon’s butt.
Although she had found a place to hide. She just had to pretend she wasn’t on the track!
And…deal with Bourbon farting right in her face.
“This is awfuuuuuul…” Rice whined, her toots joining as a chorus to accompany Bourbon’s percussive blasts.
The race continued. The frontrunners didn’t notice at all, but a chain reaction hit the pace chasers. Rudolph practically threw herself to the left. Her breasts swung more exaggeratedly, and she lost some ground as she adjusted.
Rudolph had struggled with her breasts the entire race. Despite the taut fabric over her chest, the sheer gelatinous state of her boobs made them bounce past her chins. They swung up and down, using her belly like a springboard. She tried to keep her eyes forward, but she glanced nervously at the buttons. One popped button would make everything worse.
Anything becoming worse would turn a rough situation into an unsalvageable one. Rudolph’s wide hips caused serious wind resistance. Her flabby butt cheeks bounced and clapped. Each bounce slammed the cheeks against the back of her legs. She could prevent her knees from buckling, but she couldn’t stop-
PBBBBLLLRLRRRFFFFFFFTTTTT!
A wobbly fart from escaping.
Rudolph felt more turmoil in her stomach. ‘I didn’t time my last meal right…’ She huffed and tensed as a louder FFFFFLLLLLLLLLLLRLRLRLRRRRRTTTBTBTBTBBTTT boomed from her backside. ‘I had to eat something or I wouldn’t have energy, but I waited too long. No, calm yourself. You must set a proper example to all the students!’
Newfound vigor filled Rudolph. It was a surge of adrenaline! It was the strength she needed! The numbness in her left arm was strange, but the rest of her felt amazing!
“I will not lose to any of you!” Rudolph pushed herself hard through the first corner. She wouldn’t surge for the finish yet, but she would remain abreast of the pace chasers.
“I don’t think so, el presidente!” El cheered as she tried to keep beside Rudolph. She didn’t mean to, but her bulk bumped into the other racer. Their sides squished together, hips and butt cheeks bashing. However, El was so sweaty that there was hardly friction between the two. Her sweat was the perfect lubricant for their hips to slide against each other. It even allowed El to shift her weight onto Rudolph.
“El Condor Pasa will be the victor today! There’s no…no…BOOOOUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPP!” El Condor Pasa’s stomach was packed with spicy food. While the spice had enchanted her tongue, it now burned her chest. Running in general after eating spicy food could upset the stomach. For an exceptionally overweight Uma, it gave her uncontrollable burps atop unstoppable gas. FRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!
The spicy food also increased the severity of the smell, too…
Other pace chasers were forced further from the inner post. This would make them have to run harder and faster to keep up through the curves. That seemed worth it to avoid the worst gas on the field.
Gold Ship was an exception, though. She had plenty of time and stamina for the second straight. She didn’t adjust her position because of that, which allowed her to run right through El’s gas cloud.
“GYAAAAAAAH!” Gold Ship shrieked. Her nose was assaulted, her eyes watered, and her general mood was kinda ruined.
The final two pace chasers, the ones furthest from the inner post, handled their position in unique ways.
Oguri did NOT fare well. Her belly rumbled not only from gas or movement. It roared in hunger. The satiated feeling from her earlier meal was gone, and the snacks from the starting line were faded embers. She was tempted to fall out of the race entirely.
Super Creek prevented that opportunity. She had fallen behind Oguri just to get to her left side. She used her voluptuous form to gently guide Oguri back toward the inner post. “You’ll run out of energy in the turns. Let me help~” Creek pressed closer, her shapely body pressing against the flabbier racer.
“Are there…more snacks?” Oguri asked, her ears folded against her head. Her round face was pressed into the saddest, most heart-wrenching frown ever.
Creek felt a hard twinge in her chest. Surely it was from sadness and not overexertion of her heart. Her pudgy hands launched toward her purse. It had been stuffed with food. So much that grease dripped from the bag, and it weighed so much that there was no hope she’d wind.
Well, Super Creek had not joined the race, expecting to win…
“I have some frosted carrots, carrot burgers, fried carrots, frosted fried carrots, frosted fried carrots inside a carrot burger.” Creek reached into her purse and pulled out a lump of meat with carrots stabbed into it.
Oguri Cap leaned forward and ate directly from Super Creek’s hand. She scarfed down any solid foodstuff and slurped a mixture of grease and sweat from the other Uma’s fingers. Oguri also sucked down air during this binge. It applied pressure to her stomach, which was soon relieved. BRRRRRTTTTTT WHMMMMMMPPPPRRRTTTT PBBBBFFFFFRRRRRTTTT!
Super Creek smiled, and the pain in her chest increased. She had broken into a heavier sweat. Massive stains appeared under her arms and breasts. Whether this was excited sweat or a desperate attempt to cool off, she didn’t care. Oguri’s left cheek was squished to her cleavage as she ate from her hand.
“No one ever wants to play goo goo babies with me!” Super Creek grinned in a…not entirely wholesome way. Her spare arm wrapped around Oguri Cap. She squeezed and felt the flabby rolls bulge around the bloated limb.
Oguri’s eyes widened in surprise. The two ran at the same speed, but they were locked together. It was like a strange inversion of a three-legged race. She continued to eat from Super Creek’s purse as if it were a feed bag. As long as she was being fed and kept pace, then nothing was wrong. She would refill her energy before the final surge.
Although Super Creek squeezed Oguri Cap too tightly. That, the food, and all the swallowed air. Her belly rumbled before more loud farts trumpeted forth. PPPPPBBBBBBFFFFFFFFRRRRRRTTTTT!
Super Creek’s excitement had lowered her guard. They weren’t the loudest or foulest-smelling on the field, but her butt let loose a storm of medium-lengthed FFFFFRRRRRRRRTTTT PPRRRRRRTTTT BBBBBBFFFFFFFFTTTTT!
A new sound presented itself through the bassy blasts.
RRRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPPPP!
Oguri and Creek looked over their curves to see that Oguri’s leggings had torn open. Flabby leg rolls spilled out and unleashed a shower of sweat. It soaked the turf beneath them, and it created an oil-slick-like effect.
“Woah!” Super Creek slipped forward and dragged Oguri Cap with her. The two tumbled together, rolling over each other as their speed rapidly diminished. Momentum carried them into the second straight, but they were thoroughly out of the race. Both groaned and gasped through the tumble, various awkward positions subjecting them to direct blasts of farts.
Super Creek was the first to sit up. “Eheh, sorry. I dragged you down with me. I got a little too excited feeding you.”
“It’s fine, Su-ooh!” Oguri wiped dirt and grass from her face only to freeze. The remnant of Creek’s food stash had been squished into her cleavage. Her belly overrode reason, and she leaped forward.
Creek’s arms opened by instinct, and she accepted the tackle…
Gold Ship ran past this, mostly uncaring. It was time to start moving up. She pushed her body harder and pumped her legs. Her thighs were able to slip past each other with ease thanks to her sweat. It acted like the perfect lubricant. Friction was almost entirely eliminated. Gold Ship started to move so fast that sweat droplets were flung from jiggling rolls. This was with enough intensity that some observers were splashed and mistook it for rain.
The movement was so powerful that Gold Ship’s cheeks slammed together. It looked like two red and white beanbag chairs being thrust against each other, but the sound was so crisp and distinct.
SHWAP SHWAP SHWAP!
The cheeks pressed and squeezed together on impact until they were repelled. They swung outward only to be brought back together in a concussive clash. The sound changed slightly in the turn when Gold Ship angled her body inward. Her stride never broke, though. She carried her bulk with incredible power.
Another factor that eased Gold Ship’s running was her belly. It didn’t hang very low. She didn’t have to battle it with each step. It bounced with each pump of her thighs, but it hardly got in the way. It jiggled in the air, and when it landed. The sound was more muted compared to the loud clap of her butt cheeks. Still, there was an elegance to it. It was filled with enough food to get her through the race, but it already rumbled in anticipation of snacks. She used that to power her further. She started to close distance and was almost level with the pace chasers.
Rudolf and El glanced over their shoulders. Gold Ship was gaining on them. They pushed their bodies harder, but their legs burned. The pains in their chests also became more pronounced.
‘If she passes me, I won’t be able to claim first place!’ Rudolf thought and tried to draw more from her adrenaline rush (heart attack).
“BOOOOUUUUURRRRRRPPPP!” El Condor Pasa belched. The anxiety stirred her stomach and caused her to burp every other second. Her breathing was thrown out of sync, and fatigue flooded her body.
Few things were scarier than a serious Gold Ship. Usually, her antics only amused or annoyed other Umas. Beating her in a race, though? Skill was important, but against that Uma…luck was the only saving grace.
The end of a race was always her time to shine. With the current weight of each Uma, it was a more desirable strategy. The start of the race had everyone hip to hip. There was hardly room to advance, and everyone needed to make sure they weren’t blocked in. Gold Ship only had to avoid falling over at the start. She ran along behind the pack, and space quickly opened up. There was plenty of room now that half the Umas were out of the race.
Gold Ship also released more gas as she sped up, but she hardly noticed.
Rudolf and El did, though. The smell was downwind of them, but the sound became louder. They tried to run faster, but their bodies wouldn’t allow them. Their ears rang with the sound of their flab bouncing, their hearts beating, and an increasingly loud BRRRRRRRTTTTTTT!
That was when Gold Ship emerged between the two. The momentum was hers to dominate. She gained more ground, unintentionally hitting the two with her gas. The additional clap of Gold Ship’s butt cheeks distracted them. It was impossible not to watch the giant cheeks shake and slam together.
Despair began to set in as Gold Ship’s lead increased. She was on her way to overtake the front runners…until.
Gold Ship glanced at the stands. That was when she saw the food cart she wanted to visit. A tired-looking seller put up a CLOSED sign as a morbidly obese Special Week devoured the last twenty-pound Korean corn dog.
Gold Ship’s heart, which had already felt tense and strained, shattered into thousands of figurative pieces. The pillar-like legs of blubber, which had been filled to bursting with strength…stopped.
Gold Ship flopped onto her belly. She skidded forward across the turf. This added grass stains to her already food and sweat-stained race wear. Her head rested in her cleavage, which was just large enough to be a pillow.
“I wanted to eat those…” Gold Ship grumbled into her breasts. The race meant little to her now. The effort to win was only going to be worth it for those corndogs.
Gold Ship’s pose left her butt high in the air. It had become a dangerous speed bump, and Umas behind her didn’t have much time to react.
NEW BELOW
“Aye!” El squeaked as she rammed directly into Gold Ship’s butt cheeks. She slammed into the twin mounds mostly with her belly. The thick fronts of fat squished together until the potential force grew too great. El’s sweat acted like a lubricant, and she was thrown into the air as if she hit a ramp. She flailed her arms in the air as if it would help her. Nervous gas came out of her in the form of an echoing BUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPP and trumpeting FFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTT as she came closer to the ground.
Rudolf had barely managed to dodge Gold Ship’s butt blockade. She clutched her chest and tried to regain speed. Her gait had suffered, and she barely puttered along. FFFFFFLLBBBBBBRRRRTTTTTTTTTs burst from her butt cheeks as she tried to compose herself and run.
“What’s that noise?” Rudolf groaned and cast a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw El…FLYING?! That absurd sight startled more gas from her before El crashed down behind her.
El had desperately tried to brace herself, but her belly was too big for her arms to get around. There was no way to try and catch herself with the pudgy limbs. Thick fingers did manage to snatch the hem of Rudolf’s skirt and tear it off.
Rudolf’s cheeks burned pink, and she stopped on a dime. She felt the breeze on her fat, flabby, sagging butt cheeks. She heard the crowd roar at the sudden revelation. The upright and composed student council president’s pretty, striped panties were entirely on display.
Well, partially. The white stripes were soaked with sweat and transparent. It made the light blue stripes stand out all the more, almost as if she were striped like a zebra. The underwear was meant to be massive to cover most of her butt, but it had slipped between her butt cheeks during the race.
“I…withdraw from the race,” Rudolf murmured and sat next to El.
“Eheh…sorry,” El murmured. She was still prone on the ground. None of her limbs had the strength to haul her fat ass up.
Rudolf forced a smile. “It’s fine. I am in no state to race.” She chuckled softly before she flopped back to lie against El. Her chest still hurt, and her stomach had begun to growl. “I’m sure Teio is waiting with food…unless she has eaten it already.”
That left only the two front-runners. Bakushin’s speed hadn’t reduced at all, and Maruzensky had failed to gain any ground.
Bakushin seemed to be going strong. She continued to chant, “Bakushin! Bakushin! Bakushin!” Gas flowed freely from her backside. It had been the entire race, but only now did Maruzensky near her limit. Bakushin was unaware that only one racer beside her remained, and that racer was being blinded by non-stop farts.
Maruzensky’s eyes watered as she tried to power through. “Cough, I won’t give up!” She exclaimed and powered herself forward. Now was the perfect time to run faster. She pumped her legs harder and harder, straining and unintentionally forcing gas from her. This finally brought her closer to Bakushin.
‘It’ll be close, but I can win!’ Maruzensky thought and wheezed. Every breath was necessary, even if it was mostly Bakushin’s farts. She had to close the gap and get in front of Bakushin. Even if it was a photo finish, she needed to get the furthest curve of her stomach or chest in front of Bakushin!
“Bakushin Bakushin Bakushin!” Bakushin continued to chant. Inside her head were just as excited thoughts. ‘There’s the finish line! I missed racing! I love eating, but nothing beats a race! I bet all my fellow racers feel the same!’ She giggled and pushed herself a little harder. She hadn’t done anything to hold back at all. What she drew on now was 110% power!
It was a mistake.
The following events happened in a single second.
Bakushin had unknowingly (obliviously) pushed her body too far. She had ignored every sign. The shortness of breath and air wasted on chanting, the deep burn in her muscles that were blocked by a runner’s high, and the fact that an Uma who weighed five times what she should and hadn’t done any exercise in months shouldn’t run. Even a brisk waddle could have taken her down.
“Bakushin Baku-HRK!”
Bakushin went from a full sprint to face planting. All momentum vanished in an instant. It should have been impossible, but this…this was Bakushin. Her chest had seized in a tight pinch, her eyes crossed, and she lost consciousness. Mere inches from the finish line.
Maruzensky’s eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t moved out from behind Bakushin yet. She just saw the lead collapse, and there was no time to correct. Her heels dug into the turf and snapped. “Wait, wait, wait!” She exclaimed and felt herself stumble and fall face-first.
The landing had been soft. Maruzensky’s chest and belly served as cushions for most of her, but her head hit something else. She opened her eyes, and it was dark. Her entire face was pressed against something. It couldn’t have been her cleavage-
FFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTT!
Maruzensky confirmed her whereabouts when she was hit with a powerful gas blast to the face. She tried to plant her arms to push her head up, but the only grip she found was Bakushin’s thighs. The soft and slippery surface offered poor purchase. They also straddled Maruzensky’s sides, so she was unable to roll to either side. She was stuck in place as the unconscious Bakushin unleashed fart after fart.
The race concluded with no winner.
Tazuna laughed nervously from the sidelines. “That was-”
“SPECTACULAR!” Director Aikawa cut her off. “This was the best race I’ve seen in years! Tazuna, triple the food budget! We’ll plan a new series of races immediately! It shall be called the Full Cup Series!”
Tazuna sighed and started to wheel Director Aikawa away as she went on about all the changes she would implement. All involved more food for the Umas (and themselves), things to ease mobility concerns, fans to cool and dissipate smell, and extra-large stadiums. It was excessive…yet endearing. Tazuna giggled and carted her boss off.
If today’s race had inspired the director this much, then there was no telling how bombastic the next would be…
THE END
Comments
SongBird567
My genius knows no bounds
SymmetryFats
I am exceptionally amused the silly temp name ended up just being the name of the fic
