Dentures

Granny Smith hurriedly opened the cardboard package with excitement, or at least as much excitement as a pony of her age could muster. She had dropped her dentures a few weeks ago and the teeth had exploded from their settings to various parts of the kitchen floor, hiding under rugs, the refrigerator, and stove. She fished for the false teeth for hours but couldn’t find the entire set. Those she found were chipped, broken, or sporting a thick coat of dust and dirt from the places they had been hiding. She had deemed them unusable and thrown them away. Her gums ached and she was tired of mashed yams, and other soft foods. This box would put an end to the mouthing on vegetables and remembrance of the crunching sound they made, the joy, the blast of flavor, the satisfaction of floratic meat mincing in her watering mouth.

The old mare split the tape of the small package and flipped the lid from the bottom revealing a nice, new set of pearly white false teeth. A wiggly smile spread across her loose lips and she pulled the dentures free of their packaging, ran some cool water over them, and stuck them into her mouth. For a moment, they felt tight, too tight, snugly fitting around her sore gums. A look of uncertainty and discordance crossed her as she thought she would need to send them back. Seemingly as soon as the thought ended, the teeth felt comfortable and the dry ache diminished. Her gums must have just been sore.

Granny Smith grinned and turned a vicious eye on the long, orange carrot that had been menacing her with its tough, root vegetable body the entirety of the morning. A sudden craving gripped her stomach and the thought of how delicious the carrot would taste caused her mouth to salivate violently. It was almost lust, the tense provocation the vegetable had been inflicting upon her finally flushed as the hard opalescent teeth tore through the flesh and filled her mouth with a flavorful delight, a release, unlike any she had experienced before. In seconds the root vegetable had disappeared and the old mare clacked her teeth together in pleasure. Her body must have been reeling with delight or malnutrition because the gnawing pain in her gut failed to cease and she flicked her eyes across the table in search of something else to chew.

Apples, potatoes, and squash from the gardens lay in crates stacked upon the floor and on the table for canning, something she always did this time of year for the leaner months of winter. Eating one or two wouldn’t hurt the canning process and she yanked a potato from the table, not bothering to wash it before sinking her teeth deep within it and yanking chunks of hard, raw tissue free. She had always enjoyed the wild taste of potatoes before boiling softened and siphoned the flavor away. Her tongue danced wildly at the natural goodness and before long, she had devoured the whole thing. Her eyes, like the predatory gaze of a hawk, turned to a bright red, juicy apple. Her stomach rumbled and she nearly pounced upon the fruit, ripping it apart and greedily swallowing the dripping chunks of fruit. The fruit disappeared down her gullet, core, stem, and seeds as well as the tasty meat. With something like a growl, she turned on the crated fruits and vegetables.

Granny looked at the empty crates, their contents had all met her new teeth and slid down her throat. She admired the feasting she had done but also felt a kind of shame at the sheer girth of the amount. The most shameful part was that her stomach growled as if it were angered and a strange emptiness thrummed within her abdomen. It was as if her body were eating itself from the inside and she needed something else to eat. She had never been this hungry in her life. She quickly threw the doors to the refrigerator open and stuffed the contents into her mouth so quickly that she barely tasted a thing before it was emptied. Next she attacked the cabinets, yanking the doors so viciously that some of them tore free of their hinges and fell to the floor while Granny pulled sacks and boxes apart to get at the food within. Jars had been tricky lately because of her rheumatism, but the old mare didn’t seem to care, rending the screw-on lids between the strength of her dentures and dumping the various edibles into her gnashing mandible.

Her stomach had swelled and Granny couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at the torrent of destruction she had unleashed upon the country kitchen. For a moment, the elderly Apple thought of the cleaning that it would take to clear the shambled and shattered refuse of containers that used to hold enough food to feed the Apple family for months but it was quickly supplaced by anguish in her distended gut. It wasn’t because of the excess of food, that was the first thought in her mind, it was starvation. Somehow she was still hungry. She had stuffed enough food for an Apple family reunion into her mouth and yet she still felt the clawing, clenching pain of hunger.

Granny looked around the kitchen again for something else to eat, her body creaking, rheumatism flaring, but she didn’t care, it was an after-thought to the hunger. Her body growled with need and she frantically researched all of the cupboards, stuffing crumbs into her mouth before picking up the tattered remains of cartons and ingesting them, anything to fill her.

The hunger grew within her and she began chewing the glass jars, the stinging of their shards cutting her jaws, mouth, and throat meant nothing compared to the very real hunger dwelling within her body. Granny finished the last of the garbage and was seriously debating gnawing the table when a sweet smell filled her nostrils.

It was addictive, sweet, succulent, and gamey. It smelled of the best things in life and the harmony of the world after this all wrapped up, rolled in sugar, dipped in batter, and fried until it oozed creamy sweat.

“Granny? What’re ya doing?” Apple Bloom asked inquisitively, looking at the discarded crates and broken cabinet doors lying strewn across the kitchen floor. She was just a little filly and looked strangely upon her granny. She knew the elder mare had always been peculiar, holding to the old ways of doing things, but something seemed wrong about the scene and she didn’t know exactly what.

“Huntin’ sumthin’ t’eat, dearie. Do ya smell that?” Granny’s muzzle was pitched up in the air, sniffing, searching for the root of the delectable odor, her head flicking back and forth.

“Umm … no granny. What happened to all the canning stuff? Did you already finish it? I thought you were gonna teach me how to can.” Apple Bloom looked a little hurt and looked with saddened eyes at the older mare.

“Yeah, all gone. Sorry, young’n. Now, there ain’t no use cryin’ over spilt milk.” Granny liked the idea of spilt milk, sopping it up and swallowing it by the mouthful. They had plenty of cows, right? The idea was nice, but the pleasantries of milk paled under the insidious sweetness filling her muzzle. She had to find this thing and eat it. “Apple Bloom. Help me find this dag nab thing that smells so good. I’ll teach ya all about cannin’ later but I NEED to eat.”

Apple Bloom noticed the swelled belly, having not seen before the immense bulge of flesh. She gasped and concern came into her voice. “Are you alright, Granny? Yer tummy is awful big.”

“Fine!” Granny had become weary of the ridiculous questions. Didn’t the whipper-snapper know that she was hungry? She followed her nose, stepping forward some and noticing that Apple Bloom was giving off the sweet scent. The little brat must have been hiding the treat somewhere. Granny gave her a discerning look. “Apple Bloom, have you been sneaking sweets up ta yer room?” Her voice timbred and lolled with age.

“No, Granny.” Worry was pregnant in the filly and she hoped Granny Smith was alright. She had never seen her like this before and it scared her. She wished Applejack was in from the fields. She’d know what to do. “Why don’t we go inta the livin’ room and sit down a spell? I’m sure that’ll make ya feel better.”

The old mare didn’t believe Apple Bloom and leaned down to suck the air into her nostrils from the filly. To her surprise, Granny realized the filly was hiding something, she was the source of the smell. For just a moment, she knew something was wrong and maybe she should seek a doctor. That thought quickly died under the full flavor of the delicious aroma her grandchild was giving off. A wicked smile exposed her new teeth and she nodded. “Maybe yer right, Apple Bloom. Let’s go to the livin’ room. Would ya help an old mare in there?” She feebly held out one of her front legs to the sweet filly.

Apple Bloom nodded and took the extended leg, turning and gently easing her granny towards the couch in the living room.

Granny took a few weak steps and then dove her teeth into the soft curve of Apple Bloom’s flank. The teeth had no problem severing a large chunk of filly flesh from her grandchild; the taste was heavenly, but not exactly what had been smelling so wonderful. Still, the meat would help soothe the ache in her abdomen.

Apple Bloom shrieked and turned quickly to see what had hurt her, her rump felt as if it were on fire and she nearly cried, tears welling in her eyes, from the sudden flourish of pain. She didn’t comprehend what she was seeing at first, the red fluid dribbling down Granny Smith’s jaws, the pink and yellow slab mincing inside her mouth, or the pleased expression harmoniously glazing the elder’s eyes. Her butt hurt, that’s all she knew for certain.The gout of fire in her rear expanded and her tears fell. She was nonplussed and uncertain but the soft look in Granny’s eyes turned cold and hard as she swallowed her mouthful. A queer thought shot through her mind and she gasped a little but it was too late.

Granny lunged, a throaty roar bellowed from within the old mare, a sound like a lion, a sound the feeble pony should not be able to make. She was on the filly before Apple Bloom could react, teeth biting, tearing, pulling strings of muscle, tendon, and sinew from the kicking, squirming form of the yellow filly. Granny’s coat, normally green, became soaked in blood and stained a deep crimson. The filly below had stopped wiggling and lay looking at the ceiling with white, bulging eyes. The glaze over them reminded the elder of the sugary coating on freshly baked doughnuts and she lay her lips around them, one and then the other, and sucked them from their sockets with a delectable popping noise. Once again the popping sound echoed, muted this time, as the large molars popped them in the back of her mouth letting the flavorful jelly flow across her taste-soaking tongue.

Granny devoured the delicious skin from the filly’s face until only a gaping hole with a cleanly licked skull remained. It just wasn’t the right thing. That wonderful smell was still issuing from her grandchild but it hadn’t been the soft meat of her rump, the flesh of her face, or any of the parts she had sampled in the struggle. Still, one ought not waste food. The mare’s teeth were almost vorpal, slicing through the legs of the still body. Even the bones and hooves seemed weak under the force of her new dentures as she chewed them into a wet pulp and swallowed eagerly. It wasn’t until she had opened the abdomen and slurped the small intestines into her gullet like a long noodle of spaghetti and laid the other organs bare that she realized the enticing aroma was concentrated at the brown organs on each side of Apple Bloom’s abdomen; her kidneys.

Granny now knew exactly why they called the small brown beans kidney bean; they were nearly identical, just miniscule versions of them. They, however, did not taste nearly as exquisite as the larger ones she harvested from Apple Bloom’s mangled body. She wanted to savor the hunks of meat but the hunger was too much and she barely had a chance to taste them before swallowing them. Granny looked at the body, all anguish or shame fled. Apple Bloom was only a meal now, no longer family. She was just meat to be savored and digested. Granny idly wondered, as she moved to the still lungs of her meal, if the brain would taste as good as the kidneys.

Walking had become somewhat difficult after Granny finished devouring the rest of Apple Bloom’s small body. Her gut hung, distended and lined with stretch-marks, to the ground. She had barely managed to pull herself from the house, or out the door as her expanded, bulbous sides raked the doorframe, and yet the endless yearning of her appetite spurred her forward and out into the yard. Granny looked around the farm for a moment and debated descending the hill into the garden or the apple orchard but she knew that leafy greens and other vegetables wouldn’t fill her. She needed meat. Her old eyes took a moment to adjust as they searched the horizon for movement. She didn’t see anything but a sound came to her ears; the call of Applejack to their faithful dog, Winona. Granny turned and began dragging her stomach towards the sound of the voice.

Applejack tossed the stick as Winona looked up happily, excited by the game and joyful in the attention of her friend and master. The stick soared through the air and bounded onto the soft grass a few dozen feet away. Applejack smiled, a real mirthful smile, taking pleasure in the little moments that life had to offer. She watched the wagging tail of her companion flop to one side and then the other as she sought the play stick. AJ made sure to congratulate and hop fervently when Winona brought the stick back to her. She was just as enlivened by the game as the dog and threw it harder this time, watching it spin in the autumn air and land in some bushes.”Go get it, girl!”

Applejack watched the dog hop into the brush and noticed something odd coming towards her. The sun was going down and happened to be right in her eyes, causing the form to darken and become nearly impossible to comprehend completely. It sort of looked like Granny Smith but she must have been dragging something, maybe a sack of potatoes. She was dragging it oddly though, not to the side but directly beneath her. Applejack put a hoof above her eyes to shield them from the sight-marring sun but it did little good. Winona was coming back and Applejack turned her attention back to the dog.

“Okay, this time I’m going to throw it real far, Winona. You ready girl?” The dog dropped down onto her front paws and wagged her tail, tongue lolling from one side of her mouth. Applejack slung the stick with all of her considerable might. She threw away from Granny, turning her back to her and watched it sail in the wind. It traveled a great distance and disappeared into the bushes of the Everfree forest. She felt somewhat proud of that throw and watched the dog streak off after the stick. She watched for a few moments and heard the plodding of pony hooves behind her. “Hey Granny,” she called out without turning around, “what are you up to? Is Apple Bloom cannin’ okay? Did she quit after not gettin’ her cutie mark?” it had become a common thing for her younger sister and it somewhat annoyed Applejack.

“She’s fine and dandy, honey. She really hit the spot. I wished I had a dozen more like her.” Granny Smith marched to bridge the last few steps between her and one of her two remaining grandchildren. Already she could sense the delicate odor of Applejack’s sweet meats, resting inside, filtering waste from her body, basting in their own delicious marinade and just waiting to be eaten. The need to eat was unbearable; she was starving.

“Well that’s good. Maybe she’s calmed down some about that whole cutie mark thing. She’s been gettin’ sort of ridiculous.” Applejack grinned to herself and Winona burst from the underbrush with the stick in her mouth, running quickly back towards Applejack.

“Where’s yer brother?” granny was starving to death and just knew that the large bulk of Big Macintosh would be just what she needed. Right after Applejack, of course.

“Oh, he went to town ta buy some feed for the hogs. They’ve been complaining about the kind we got them last time.”

“That’s awful sweet of him.” The hogs were in their pin and would be a wonderful appetizer for the big red stallion.

Applejack leaned down to retrieve the stick but Winona suddenly stopped, her expression becoming frightened. The dog leapt back and started barking loudly, growling between the expulsions of warning. Applejack gave her a strange look and turned to face Granny. Her heart nearly stopped beating.

Granny was inches away, her body coated in viscous red sludge, her coat a slick shamble of greasy gore. Granny’s eyes were wide and psychotic. Applejack didn’t react quickly enough and she watched in slow, horrified motion as Granny’s mouth opened impossibly wide, a brand new set of beautiful pink-stained teeth striking like a viper into her orange throat. Pain erupted like a volcanic blast through her neck and shoulders, the incredibly sharp teeth separated much of her windpipe and split the major arteries that rested on each side of her neck. She couldn’t scream so much as gurgle the fountain of blood rushing from her brain back to her heart into a foamy, wet spring of crimson. She tried to bolt as she saw her Granny swallow, seemingly without chewing, the clump of flesh that used to reside below her chin but it was to no avail. Adrenaline coursed her system but too much blood was flowing down her chest, absorbing in her coat, recoloring her. The fringes of the world hazed and blackened and she didn’t recognize that she had fallen to the ground. She was only barely aware, as her vision darkened, of the jerking of her body as Granny Smith tore hunks of meat away from her body.

Granny was alive with the joy of sustenance. She could feel the hunger abating for the moment as she feasted on Applejack. Winona barked and jumped angrily around her and Granny struck violently, her new teeth snapping together loudly. She wondered if dog would taste any good. Granny dipped her head into the hole she had made in Applejack’s side, having already sliced through the ribs with her wonderful new teeth and yanked one of her still fluttering lungs loose from the cleft cavity. Lungs were rich in a fatty kind of way, very soft and floaty like honeycomb. The stench of Applejack’s kidneys wreaked into her nostrils but she wanted to save them, to indulge in them one at a time.

From the corner of her eye, Winona lunged and with unbelievable speed, and Granny twisted her head and found purchase in the dog’s spindly neck, cleaving it from the body and watching it roll against Applejack’s dying body. Winona furiously opened and closed her jaw, eyes full of shock, and wheezing what would have been whimpers had she still been connected with her body, which incidentally kicked wildly after the sudden severance from the nerves that controlled it. Granny didn’t care, it was just a minor disturbance from dinner and the dog would serve as a kind of dessert.

The old mare lowered her new teeth once more, somehow opening her mouth far larger than she should, consuming one whole leg from Applejack’s body. She would have to crack her skull like a walnut to get to her brain, which she had discovered from Apple Bloom were nearly as pleasing as kidneys. Organs definitely seemed to be the choice meats.

Granny’s stomach was so large that she could no longer move after she finished the bodies of Applejack and Winona. She waved her legs furiously but could not touch the ground on either side of her body. Didn’t her legs know how hungry she was? It was infuriating! How could her own body rebel like this? She grumbled and flailed wildly. How would she eat? How would she get to her next meal? It was true that Big mac would be back sometime later but how far away was that? An hour? Two? It was too long, no matter when he got back!

Granny’s enormous gut growled so angrily that it shook the rest of her body and she began pumping her legs again, just trying to touch the ground on either side. She began to cry, the gnawing hunger was encompassing and she couldn’t think of anything else.

Suddenly something clumsily drifted by, a weird waddling in the air. Granny looked up and saw the blonde maned gray pegasus awkwardly flapping above her in the direction of the house. Granny grinned to herself and called out, “Woe there, youngster. Would ya mind helpin’ an old mare?”

The mailmare stumbled, if that was possible, in the air and nearly fell to the ground as she turned to find the voice that beckoned her. “Huh?” Her voice was low and just as clumsy as she. She corrected herself and fluttered down to Granny Smith, seeming not to take much notice of the strange predicament the old mare was in. It looked like she had been eating too much strawberry jelly. Derpy loved jelly on her muffins in the morning and smiled at the stained, incredibly fat mare.

“Oh honey, I’ve done gone and got m’self stuck here. Would you help me, please?” Granny liked the mailmare. She liked the way one of her eyes looked in the wrong direction, the humble, simpleness of her disposition, and, most importantly, her incredible stupidity. She smiled brightly, new teeth shining like diamonds, pink diamonds.

“Oh, uh ... sure thing, granny Smith. I had to come back anyway.” Her voice was gentle and floundering as she suddenly rooted in one of the saddlebags on her sides. She fished momentarily and pulled a box, identical to the one Granny had opened earlier, from the bag. She sat it down before the old mare and took an expression of embarrassment. “I delivered you the wrong package.” It was a common occurrence. Derpy made a lot of mistakes. Seriously, a lot of mistakes. “I hope you’re not mad. The one I brought you was supposed to go to Twilight’s house. The director really yelled at me and said it was very very important that it went to Twilight and I needed to get it. Something about special research. I’m sorry, Granny Smith.”

Granny, who had been testing her reach on the apologizing pegasus and finding it far short, took an expression of understanding. “Oh, my dear. That’s alright. It was an honest mistake.”

“Anyway, can I get that other package back? I don’t want to be yelled at again. He says if I don’t get it back, he’ll fire me. Then I won’t have enough bits for muffins.” Her bad eye rolled strangely and she sighed.

“Sure thing, honey. But you gotta help me first, okay?” Granny was a gorey mess, clumps of wet nameless material clung to her and the metallic scent of blood poured from the nastiness in her coat but the gray pegasus didn’t seem to care or notice.

Derpy jumped happily and attempted to clack her hooves together but ended up missing completely and falling to the red stained grass. She stood back up and furrowed her brow at the icky jelly stains all over her blue mail-mare uniform. “What do I need to do?”

Granny remembered a story from her youth, one she had told all of her grandchildren before. She grinned sadistically and decided to try it out. It always worked on the stupid. “I got this toothache, Derpy. Could you look into my mouth and see if’n one of’em has got a cavity?”

Derpy smiled and nodded so hard her hat nearly fell off. She liked helping people and she rarely had the chance to do something correctly. She couldn’t wait for the mirth of doing something right to resonate through her body.

Granny nodded happily. “Good girl. Now make sure you get real close, really look closely.” She watched the pegasus nod and opened her mouth, the skin at the back of her jaws had split so she could open her mouth incredibly wide now. She leaned in as far as she could, her breath stinking of partially digested meat and waited for the mailmare to ignorantly stick her head in.

Derpy squinted her eyes to get a better look and leaned with her entire body, fluttering her wings so she could float above the old mare. She would be able to get a good look from a higher angle. Derpy smiled happily and got as close as she could to the rear molars, not noticing the smell.

Granny’s jaws came down like a bear-trap around Derpy’s head, her new teeth cutting through bone and muscle like butter. She felt the vibrations in her throat as Derpy screamed but it only lasted for a moment as the hovering body flapped wildly and flew into the air, leaving two thirds of her head in Granny Smith’s mouth as the few pieces of stringy meat severed. Granny eagerly chewed and swallowed the mane, brain, and partial skull of her latest victim. To her chagrin, the rest of the body had fluttered far out of her reach and she still couldn’t move!

For hours Granny kicked her legs but found no traction. She wailed as the hunger took her body over. It was consuming her just as she had consumed all the others. She needed to eat! SHE NEEDED TO EAT! SHE NEEDED TO EAT!!

The whole time, a smell began to come to her. Something wonderful, something seeping into her consciousness over the excruciating wait for Big Mac’s return. She looked around, thinking, at first, that it was the Pegasus’ crumpled body’s kidneys but she slowly realized this had a slightly different odor. She sought the source for what seemed like hours, the hunger beginning to drive her mad. After a while she realized what it was: aged meat. She twisted her head around as far as she could and pressed her muzzle into her back and snorted deeply. Yes. it was there. Inside. She was smelling the well-aged meat of her own kidneys. It was so wonderfully exotic. She was so hungry. It would be the best yet. She knew it would.

The sun was nearly down on the horizon of Sweet Apple Acres. The failing light sent ghosts of shade trees stretching out across the fields of vegetables. It was a golden autumn and the harvest had been plentiful. The farm had prospered greatly and they would soon have the fun of Nightmare Night and the corn maze, hay rides, and apple bobbing that they always did. It was a time for thanks.

Granny Smith didn’t notice the beauty of the world as she slowly consumed pieces of herself, meshing her own flesh with that of her grandchildren and the pegasus as she ate towards the delicious smelling sweet breads housed within her own body.