FSE

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Bojack Horseman sat alone in a corner booth, staring sadly at his empty beer. He didn't want to get up and get another one, but he supposed he'd have to. The waitress had disappeared a while ago, amd the earlier crowd had disappeared, leaving him alone with the bartender. The bartender held a cellphone to his ear, chatting as he polished glasses.

Bojack sighed and rose in his seat. The booths were too damn small here. He bent over and began sidling out when the front door swung open, and a familiar voice stopped him.

"Bojack! Hey, buddy!"

Bojack's eyes shot up. He knew who it was even before he saw him. In the doorway was his old friend and rival, Mr. Peanutbutter. The golden lab began walking quickly toward him, and Bojack groaned, sinking back down. There was no getting out of this one. With any luck, at least he wouldn't have to pay for his next beer or 10.

"Is this a crossover episode or what?" He said, chuckling, as he slid into the booth across from Bojack, a wide smile plastered across his muzzle. Bojack wished he could share the feeling.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Princess Carolyn said you'd be here! See, there's this show, and-"

"What's it called?"

"It's called... Uh," Peanutbutter tapped his chin, then shrugged, "I dunno! But there's room for both of us if you're interested!"

"I don't... Look, let's just talk this over, alright?" Bojack sighed and slumped forward, placing his head in his hands, "This hasn't been a great day."

"Hey," Peanutbutter reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I get it, buddy. But if this new show pans out, everything will be different! And I know what'll cheer you up in the meantime-"

"Actually, I think I'm finish for toni-"

"- Yo, barkeep!" Peanutbutter shouted, waving at the man behind the counter, "Drinks!"

A cellphone was pressed to the bartender's ear, and he nodded, holding up his index finger as he glanced over to them.

"Jeez, what a dick," Peanutbutter whispered to Bojack, who just groaned in response.

A minute later, the bartender walked over, carrying a tray with two frothing mugs of amber beer. In a flash, Peanutbutter grabbed one and took a sip before he'd even set the tray down. Bojack smiled apologetically at the bartender, whose face remained stoic as he handed Bojack his beer.

"Thanks!" Peanutbutter said, foam dribbling down his chin, before taking another swig.

The bartender didn't respond, instead simply turning and walking behind the counter, then through a door into the back room.

"So, about this show," Bojack said, "If you don't know the title, do you at least know what it's about?"

"Sure! We play two guys who-" Peanutbutter stopped, his cheeks puffing up, and let out a loud belch.

Bojack grit his teeth, trying to suppress his disgust. "Uh, look, maybe we should head outside-"

"Nah, man! I just swallowed too quickly, it's fine!"

With that, Peanutbutter tipped the mug up and chugged the rest of the brew. Bojack rolled his eyes, grabbed the other mug, and took a swig. It was cold and carbonated, tingling pleasantly as it went down. A pleasant surprise - He was expecting more warm piss like this establishment usually sold.

Bojack tipped his mug up and caught the last dregs of beer.

Bojack groaned, placing a hand on his stomach. It felt full - Too full. This beer was practically his first meal today, yet he felt like he'd just polished off a whole buffet.

"Oh god.... Damn..." Bojack muttered, arms wrapped around his aching belly.

"Feeling a little.... Hoarse, Bojack?" Peanutbutter said, breaking into laughter.

Bojack didn't reply. He couldn't. The pressure was really starting to rise inside of him. His stomach looked like an overinflated basketball, pressing tightly against his shirt. He grimaced, and began undoing the buttons with one hand. A twinge of pain shot through his insides, causing him to inhale sharply and fumble. Something was moving in there, he realized, and he didn't like it.

The ball of gas slid lower and lower. He could feel it approaching his anus, and he wasn't about to just fart in public. He was better than that, wasn't he? Bojack flexed his ass muscles, trying to hold it in - But it was too late. The fart rumbled out of his ass, filling the room with a yeasty, fermented stench. His face burned red hot as he glanced around - Nobody but him and Peanutbutter.

Peanutbutter's nose twitched as the smell wafted through the room, but otherwise, didn't react.

"Is it hot in here or what?" He said, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"I'm... Sorry?" Bojack said. It wasn't that hot in there. If anything, it was a little chilly.

"It's like being locked in a hot car in here!"

Bojack wasn't sure if he was joking. A wide smile was plastered across Peanutbutter's face, but then again, he was always smiling like an idiot. Dark stains had formed around the dog's pits, with a long, wet streak down his chest. The dog had begun to really pant now, foamy saliva dripping from his tongue as it hung out.

Peanutbutter grabbed his mug and chugged down the last drops of beer. Bojack watched him quietly, realizing how dry his own throat was. He glanced at his own empty mug in irritation.

As the cold, fizzy liquid slid down his throat. Bojack noticed Peanutbutter - The golden lab looked... Bigger. His athletic build seemed oddly puffy, like an overinflated balloon animal. The curve of his belly was visible beneath his shirt, topped with two rounded domes. Even his face seemed fatter than it once was, and this time, it wasn't just a trick of the lighting.

Peanutbutter burped, sending globs of alcoholic spittle everywhere, and took a long, deep lungful of air. He slammed the mug down, letting it fall to its side and roll.

"Man, I thought I tried this on before buying it!" He groaned. Peanutbutter grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, over his head, and tossed it on the table.

Bojack's eyes widened at the sight of Peanutbutter's body. His belly was huge! Rolls of sweat-soaked flab had replaced his perfect abs as if they never existed at all. The smell coming off him was tremendous, as if the shirt was holding back a year's worth of BO. Bojack's nose wrinkled.

"You smell like wet dog," Bojack groaned, "Ever hear of deodorant, mutt?"

Peanutbutter smirked and raised his arms, exposing his steamy pits. "Hey, a little sweat is totally natural!"

Bojack was about to respond, when he was distracted by a gurgle in his own belly. It wasn't quite as big, but it was big enough to strain his cheap dress shirt. It hadn't fit properly before, and with an extra hundred or so pounds to contain, it certainly didn't fit now. Bojack fumbled with his buttons, impeded by his drunken state and increasingly meaty fingers.

Bojack's shirt fell open, framing his growing beer gut. If he was sober, he might've realized that it was about twice its usual size, forming rolls and folds where it used to be flat. His moobs sagged down over his belly, his exposed nipples hard and perky in the chilly room.

Like Peanutbutter, his body gave off a powerful stench, like a barnyard on a hot day, but he wasn't too bothered by it. It wasn't as bad, no one would notice. Bojack lifted his arm and gave his pit a quick sniff. The smell was rather nice once you got used to it.

There was a twinge of pain just below his belly, where his jeans were beginning to dig into his puffy flesh. He looked down; He almost enjoyed the feeling, his pantlegs packed with meat like denim sausages, but the pain was getting worst. If they kept constricting him...

His clumsy, drunken fingers grasped at the button, and after several tries, managed to undo it and yank down the zipper. It wasn't enough. The pain was still there, focused in his legs as more and more weight piled onto them inside their cloth prison.

Slowly, agonizingly, Bojack pried his pants off. It was slow going, made difficult by his sitting position and the immense weight of his body. His apple-patterned boxers were likewise full, but the soft fabric was much more comfortable. His thighs blossomed outwards as they were freed, brown, furred flesh oozing across the vinyl seat.

Finally reaching his knees, he was able to let go and let the jeans fall to his ankles, allowing him to simply kick them off. Bojack would've breathed a sigh of relief, but the pain was still present in his gut. No, not pain - Pressure. The horse was drunk, near-naked, and had to fart. He clenched his ass. He may be naked, obese, and surprisingly sloshed after just a couple of beers, but he wasn't going to fart... Again.

"Another beer, dude?" Peanutbutter asked. Bojack grit his teeth, his stomach churning at the mere thought of drinking.

"Thanks, but..." Bojack grimaced, shifting in his seat as he tried to keep his ass as tight as possible, "I'm really full. I'm just worried I'll explode or somethin'."

"Explode?" Peanutbutter laughed, slapping his gut and letting out a deep, hollow belch, "The only thing that's gonna explode is your ass if you don't let out that fart yer holding!"

"I-I'm not holding any farts!" Bojack stammered. Even in his inebriated state, Peanutbutter was unconvinced.

"C'mon, Bojack, you slob! Just let 'er rip!" The obese dog shifted in his seat, letting out a sloppy-sounding fart. Try as he might, Bojack couldn't resist the temptation to smell it, and as he did, the tight grip of his ass muscles slackened slightly, enough for a small hiss of gas to escape.

His eyes widened, but it was too late. The leak became a torrent, and the dam broke. Hot gas poured out, filling the room with a sickly sweet stench.

"Whew!" Peanutbutter waved the stink away from his nose, "You're just a big old windbag, aren't you?"

Bojack blushed. He was embarrassed, not from farting in front of his friend, but the... Compliment? Judging from Peanutbutter's expression, it couldn't have been anything else. The dog was panting, his tongue hanging out as he took long, deep breaths of the tainted air. Curious, Bojack took a sniff. For a fart, it wasn't half bad. They sat there, farting, burping, and basking in their stink, until Peanutbutter's stomach grumbled.

"Agh, man, I'm hungry! Hey, bartender! Hello?"

There was no response. The donkey who served them the drinks was still missing, and Peanutbutter resolved to seek him out, beyond the mysterious backroom door.

Peanutbutter hauled himself out of the booth, ripping a fart as he stood up. Bojack followed, grabbing his friend's discarded shirt in the process. There was no way either of them would fit in it at this point, but that didn't matter. Bojack held it up to his nose and took a long whiff, savoring smell of the cool, but still powerful sweat.

The canine ambled over to the door, his 400 pound body wobbling like jello as he went. Peanutbutter moved with an awkward gait. His jogging pants couldn't be made for more than a 30" waist, but the waist they clung to was easily over 40", maybe even 50". The fabric strained and creaked with every step, but held together, if just barely.

With their small size, Peanutbutter's muffintop overflowed. His belly was almost as wide as his hips, with rolls and folds caked in sweat. Even his back was fat, with rings of fat forming around his shoulders and flowing down to his crack, which, Bojack noticed with obvious pleasure, was just visible past his overtaxed waistband.

"Hey, where'd ya go?" Peanutbutter shouted, jiggling the handle to no avail. He gave the door a series of solid knocks with his fist, but whatever the bartender was doing, he wasn't answering.

He was about to pound again when Bojack walked over, moving much easier due to his lack of pants, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's jus' go, we gotta do, uh, stuff."

"My place?" Peanutbutter asked, reaching into his pocket.

"Naw," Bojack shook his head, "Mine's closer! Drinkin' and drivin's only illegal if it's a mile or more!"

The golden lab nodded, seeming to accept Bojack's sound legal advice, and pulled out his car keys. The two wideloads waddled outside, toward Mr. Peanutbutter's blue Maserati. The luxury sedan was like a clown car compared to the two mountains of flab. Peanutbutter hit the button to unlock the doors. In his drunken state, the dog blinked. The chirp it made sounded almost afraid. Another button press, and the doors opened automatically, perfect for a lazy fatass like himself.

Peanutbutter climbed into the driver's seat, while Bojack squeezed into the passenger's side. It was a tight fit. The Italian car was designed for thin and beautiful starlets, not two massively obese animal men. Sweat oozed down their bodies, soaking into the fine silk seats and creating stains that would most likely never wash out.

Peanutbutter's ass flowed over the sides of the seat, pressed between the door on one side, and the gearshift on the other. His belly squished slightly into the steering wheel, but he was still able to hold it with little difficultly.

Bojack was in a similar situation, with his gut pressed up against the dashboard. He grabbed the seatbelt and pulled, but no matter how much he pulled, squeezed, and sucked it in, it just wouldn't fit. Eventually, he let it go. The way he was wedged in, he wasn't going anywhere in an accident.

Bojack ripped a loud, wet fart. Peanutbutter turned to him with an annoyed expression, and smacked his gut, causing it to jiggle like jelly.

"Hey, don't shit on the seats!" Peanutbutter barked, turning the key in the ignition, "They're, uh, fancy!"

"I'm not gonna shit myself!" Bojack retorted, letting out another muffled fart into the seat, "I'm just a li'l gassy from the beer, tha's all."

"That better be all!" He said, pressing his foot down on the gas, and tearing out of the parking lot.

--==--===-===--==+-

One hotboxed car ride later, they had reached at Bojack's house. The Maserati, parked out front, would've sighed in relief if it could. The two passengers had left both doors open, letting the interior air out, at least for a little while.

Inside, the house was already turning into a mess. Bojack's underwear lay discarded in a corner, along with all of Mr. Peanutbutter's clothes. The fridge had been raided, the kitchen and living room littered with empty beer bottles and pizza boxes. And in the bedroom, two very fat, very drunk men were sitting on the bed, surrounded by the remnants of their binge.

Bojack leaned on Peanutbutter's shoulder, giving the dog's belly a slow, soothing rub. He didn't mind the mess; Peanutbutter's belly and pecs were splattered with pizza grease, with bits of cheese stuck to his matted fur. The constant motion soothed his packed gut, and the occasional farts he let out even seemed calmer than usual. His formerly white briefs, now tattered and torn, yellow from sweat, were wrapped around his ankles, one foot in, one foot out.

Bojack was equally messy, with red sauce splattered all down his front, mixed with spilled beer and his ever-present sweat. His clothing was... Somewhere. It didn't matter to him. Right now, he was content to just sit and digest with his best friend in the world.

"I admire you, you know," Bojack mumbled, wriggling closer into Peanutbutter's side.

"What do you mean?" Peanutbutter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're so successful! You're smart, and kind, and handsome," Bojack paused, taking his hand from Peanutbutter's belly, "I'm just a damn trainwreck."

Peanutbutter wrapped an arm around Bojack's shoulders. "You're not a trainwreck, buddy," He said, "Honestly, I admire you, too."

"Bullshit," Bojack snorted, shaking free of Peanutbutter's grasp, "You, the big celebrity, admire a washed up old loser?"

"Bojack, I'm serious!" Peanutbutter turned to look him straight in the eye, "Just, listen, okay?"

"Everything, everyone I know, they're all fake, plastic, they aren't real, they don't care..."

"You're real, Bojack. You're not plastic. You're the realest guy I know."

"At the end of the day, when I'm getting swept up by the plastic assholes swarming around me, I can always count on you to bring me back to earth. I love you for that."

"I... Peanutbutter..." Bojack glanced down at the floor, then turned toward his friend, "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

Peanutbutter smiled. "You, just a minute ago. And every day by the tabloids."

"Do you want to... I mean..."

"God yes, Bojack! Always!"

Bojack didn't wait, wrapping his arms around Peanutbutter's neck and giving the dog a deep kiss. His lips tasted of old pizza and warm beer, and he couldn't wait to find out what the inside of his mouth tasted like. He didn't have to wait long, as Peanutbutter's tongue slipped forcefully between their lips. A shift in his weight, and they were laying, with Bojack pinned underneath Peanutbutter's huge mass.

"Bojack, I- I need your ass!" Peanutbutter whined. Bojack rolled onto his back, his wide ass bared and ready for whatever the dog could throw at it, or in it. Sweat streaked down the sides, while cellulite dimples dotted the area around his crack. From the ripe stench, one would be forgiven for assuming Bojack had never showered before in his life.

"Come on, Butter!" Bojack said lustily, before whinnying, as Peanutbutter stuffed his entire muzzle between his cheeks and took a long, deep sniff of his swampy ass. Warm, greasy, and most importantly, incredibly smelly, Peanutbutter's nose was in bliss. Reaching around his partner's tree trunk thick thighs, he groped around hoping to share the joy.

Bojack's cock was almost entirely hidden, with only the blunt tip visible between his fat thighs. It was enough for Peanutbutter to grab and start yanking, causing Bojack's eyes to roll back as he moaned in pleasure. It was amazing, setting every nerve in his body on fire. He hadn't had a handjob like this since... Well, never. It was enough to cause him to lose control of his hole again, flooding Peanutbutter's face with hot barnyard stink.

"F-f-fuck!" Peanutbutter shouted, muffled, into the horse's hefty ass, doubling his speed and grip on Bojack's penis.

It was just too much. It was just so sensitive, so good! Bojack let out a whinny as he nutted, spraying the lower half of the bed with his seed.

The two went on well into the night, fucking and farting, until they were too exhausted to move.

--==--===-===--==+-

The next morning

The sun rose slowly over the pacific ocean, bathing the horizon in a cascade of orange and yellow rays. Mr. Peanutbutter stood on the balcony, leaning against the raising, a cigarette in his hand. He was still wearing his stretched-out briefs, or what was left of them. From the smell wafting in, mixed with the sea breeze, he still hadn't showered yet.

Bojack had, at least. He stood next to him, a towel lodged in his flab the only thing hiding his package from view. Judging by the pile of burned out butts on the floor behind them, they'd been out here a long time. Finally, Bojack couldn't take it anymore, and turned to his friend-cum-lover.

"... Peanutbutter?"

The dog grunted and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Look, Peanutbutter, I don't know what happened last night, but-"

"-But what?" Peanutbutter turned to face Bojack, "You're sorry I woke up with my face in your ass?"

"Are you sorry my belly button's full of dry dog cum?"

"Wait, I- Your belly button?" Peanutbutter stammered, his face turning a deep red, "That's... Wow."

"Yeah."

They stood there in silence for another couple minutes, before Peanutbutter spoke.

"So, uh," Peanutbutter said, "We're fat, huh?"

"Yeah."

"This is gonna take years to work off."

"If we work it off."

"I hope not," Peanutbutter muttered

"What?" Bojack asked, turning to him. His golden yellow face had turned beet red.

"I..." Peanutbutter paused to brush some ashes off his belly, "I kind of like it."

Bojack leaned on the railing, watching the waves crash against the rocks far below. He breathed a heavy sigh and said, ".... Me too."

"I, uh, hope this isn't too weird, but..." Peanutbutter tapped the ashes from his cigarette, "Can we do this again sometime?"

"Peanutbutter, I-" Bojack stopped, taking a final drag before tossing his burned out filter over the railing, "I'm not gay, you know."

"Me neither," Peanutbutter said.

"In that case," Bojack placed a hand on his shoulder, "Would you like to not be gay together?"

"I'd like that."

Bojack Horseman and Mr. Peanutbutter embraced, sharing a deep kiss in the golden dawn, as the disc of the sun began to peek like an all-seeing eye above the endless ocean.

==-=-=---=--

Meanwhile, across the city, a pink cat sat in her office, watching a video of the previous night's excursion. In another window on her screen was a donkey in a business suit, holding a fat cigar.

"Amazing, especially for a pair of amateurs!" He said, puffing on his cigar, "But when did they get so big? You'd think the tabloids would be all over them, especially Mr. Peanutbutter. He was on TV just the other day, and-"

Princess Carolyn leaned back in her seat, waving her paw dismissively, "CG, you know, the usual movie magic."

"And you're sure this is how they want to come out?"

"Of course! What do you expect, a press conference? They're stars, not politicians!"

"Right, right," The donkey nodded, "Normally, I'd ask for an in-person audition, but in this case, I feel confident enough. Tell your clients, they're hired. I'm faxing over the contracts now."

With a beep and a buzz, the fax machine on the desk came alive as it printed out the documents. Carolyn smiled as the first words emerged from the printer, the heading of the first page.

The Biggest Gainer: Hollywoo Edition