Andrew Jackson sat at his mahogany desk that reigned upon the oval office. His face was half-sunken into a bottle of gin (although I suppose he would be more of a whiskey drinker, oh well). His hands were splayed onto the desk, reaching futilely for his quill and paper.
"I have bills to veto." Jackson mumbled to himself. "This is the last time I try to help Roger Taney pick up chicks. What's with that guy's pet play fetish? Sweet Jesus. The guy can't come up with pickup lines to save his life."
He grumbled and groaned, his head pounding from the ethanol hammer he held in his hand. His scary eyebrows wiggled with discomfort, as if trying to crawl off of the man's intoxicated visage.
A loud drumming sound erupted from the end of the office. The president peered up, pushing the bottle away from his face. "What?!" The perturbed POTUS reached for a pistol from his desk drawer. "I said I didn't want to be disturbed!"
The knocking persisted. "Show yourself, you yellow-bellied rat or I'll blow you through!" Jackosn misquoted, pointing the pistol at the door.
A pale appendage busted through the wooden door. Splinters of wood scattered onto the floor. "Oops!" A voice squeaked. The owner of the white foreleg attempted to pull it through the hole it had made, but to no avail.
"God dammit, I just fixed that door!"
"Let me in!" The voice cracked. The hoof flopped back and forth.
Andrew rolled his eyes and lifted his alcohol-sodden body from his chair. He listlessly strolled over to the door. He pulled the door open, pulling out the white hoof. Before him was a white and purple pony, a tiny white horn protruding from her curly hair.
"Hiya!" She squeaked. "I'm Sweetie Belle!"
Andrew pressed his palm against his face. "Get out of here."
Sweetie Belle jumped back. "W-why?!" She stuttered.
"I have nt time for silly little children."
"Children?" Sweetie Belle cocked her head. "I'm a pony."
"Whatever. Go away. Run along. Go eat some hay or something."
"B-but…" Tears welled in the pony's eyes. "I traveled all the way through an inter-dimensional void to get here!"
"I don't care. Go away." Andrew crossed his arms and turned his back to the pony.
Sweetie Belle began to wail, a trail of tears pouring from her eyes.
Andrew groaned histrionically, turning back to the pony. "What do you want, anyway?"
The tears ceased their torrential cascade. "I-I just wanted to… give you these scones I baked…" Her voice trailed off as she produced a plate of pastries from her pony pocket.
"Scones?" Andrew's eyes lit up. He rubbed his hand beneath his chin.
"Yeah," Sweetie Belle sniveled, "they're cranberry."
"Despite their association with those pretentious yanks, I do love me some cranberries," Jackson gave an aside glance.
Sweetie Belle bounced up and down. "You want them?!" A massive grin spread across her face.
"On one condition…" Andrew smirked.
"What is it?" Sweetie Belle once again tilted her head.
"Feed them to me."
Sweetie Belle squinted. "Feed them to you?"
"You heard me, you silly little horse." Andrew tied a bib around his neck and sat back down in his chair.
Sweetie Belle picked up one of the crumbly scones in her un-thumbed hoof. She leapt onto the desk and brought it towards his face.
"Like this?" Sweetie Belle asked.
Andrew nodded. Sweetie Belle broke off a chunk and placed it on the president's waiting tongue. The president chewed thoughtfully and swallowed.
"What's in these?" Andrew Jackson asked, looking down at his stomach. His abdomen rumbled and rippled.
"Nothing different from the usual," Sweetie Belle said, grinning widely. She shoved another chunk into the president's mouth.
Jackson grumbled. He stared down at his chest. His belt began to suffer the tension of his expanding waistline. With each passing second, his belly expanded.
"What are you doing to me?" Andrew attempted to lift himself out of his chair. His now watermelon-sized belly prevented him from doing so.
Sweetie Belle held the man's mouth open with her hoof. She shoved an entire scone into his mouth. She moved his jaw up and down and forced him to swallow.
His stomach expanded even further, tearing open his shirt, rolling down the sides of the chair and onto the floor. "Why are you doing this?!" He gurgled and grumbled.
Sweetie Belle undid the constricting strap of leather at the man's waist. "I want your fat meaty cock, Andrew Jackson."
"You're a horse!"
"Shut up, you fat fuck."
She ripped off his slacks, revealing a pudgy erection between his legs. She stroked the length with her hoof. She turned around, revealing her virgin marehood.
"No!" Andrew shouted. "I don't want this, you tramp!" Andrew struggled to lift his arms, now tumbling sausages draped at his sides. He could not manage to make them budge.
Sweetie Belle shifted back her thighs, the lips of her cunny brushing against the head of his schlong. Profuse pussy juice dripped down his length.
"STOP!" He shouted. Sweetie Belle kicked back a scone into his open mouth. Andrew expanded even further, dwarfing his desk. His titanic rolls of fat overtook the entire end of the office.
Sweetie Belle lowered her plot onto Andrew's penor. His cock slipped into her sopping folds. She took his entire length into her ponyhole. She squealed in delight, her pony pussy gushing. His fat, engorged veins rubbed against her clit as she rode his presidential phallus.
She bounced on his cock, her flank slapping against the slabs of fat on his chest. His cock pulsated. The mass of lipids that was once Andrew Jackson moaned in pleasure.
Sweetie Belle's horn glowed green. The plate levitated over to Andrew's face. It tilted, dumping the remaining half-dozen scones into his mouth.
His cock twitched and pulsated, releasing thick ropes of buttery semen into Sweetie Belle's cunt. His thighs expanded as he ejaculated, busting through the walls of the oval office and pouring into the adjacent rooms. Sweetie Belle lifted her plot off of the human blob's crotch. She turned around and gave the head of his cock a chaste little kiss. She headed out the door and was never seen again.