Break A Leg

Some time passed after the apparent suicide of Twilight Sparkle. The remainder of what had once been the Mane 6 had also been fooled by Spike's convoluted and diabolical plan, and were blissfully unaware that they were still on Spike's hit list. The four remained in contact, and it wasn't uncommon to hear Pinkie Pie badmouthing Rarity and Twilight.

She was often heard to remark what a "weakling" Twilight was, and that "she wasn't even a real princess anyway."

Of the four, Applejack was the only one who showed any kind of remorse for her actions, but unlike Twilight's, hers did not leave her with many a sleepness night. Her guilt only caused her to become a bit distant whenever the subject of Rarity came up, which was, suprisingly, quite often, as Fluttershy would consistently how much she enjoyed Pinkie Pie's marionette show with Rarity's corpse.

If anything, Pinkie had become even more sick and twisted since the incident, and was once heard to remark, "wouldn't it be a shame if Mrs. Cake broke her hoof?" after she was denied a fourth helping of dessert.

For Spike, the shameful display of necrophilia that he had read about in Twilight's diary caused him to consider Pinkie his priority target now that Twilight was taken care of. Without Twilight, he was free to concoct plans without interruption, and without worrying about an alibi.

As luck would have it, Spike ran into a sulking Pinkie in the park, whereupon she explained to Spike about her once again being denied an additional pudding. Despite Pinkie's infamous metabolism, it was notable that she had eaten much more food in the previous weeks, for reasons Pinkie would adamantly deny to disclose. With these additional foodstuffs, she had gained a slight amount of weight, which was noticeable by her wider plot that boasted a larger cutie mark than before. Her belly hung significantly closer to the ground, it looked plump and soft, and her face looked fuller and rosier.

This gave Spike a wonderful idea. If Pinkie liked food so much, why not give her a helping hand?

"Pinkie," inquired Spike, "you said something about not having enough to eat?"

"Oh, yes!" said Pinkie sadly. "I absolutely love food! But now that Twilight doesn't come to my p-*hic!*-arties anymore, they're not as popular. So I end up having to eat most of the food myself!" Pinkie said.

"It just so happens it was my birthday yesterday. But nobody cared enough to come." lied Spike. His plan was falling into place. "I still have plenty if food left over, do you want to share it with me, Pinkie?" Spike grinned evilly as Pinkie nodded uncontrollably, her second chin wobbling slightly.

Soon, the pair returned (at a slow pace, Pinkie couldn't exactly hop anyplace now.) to Twilight's castle, and they made their way to the enormous kitchen. Utensils hung on the wall gleamed and the room produced an echo as the gluttonous pink pony treaded onto its tiled floors. In its midst, was a buffet table laid out with some if the most delectable delecacies. Pinkie's mouth watered uncontrollably as Spike nodded assuredly, and she let out a squeak of joy and dove into the mountain of food that lay before her. Spike smiled endearingly at her, but inside his mind, he had much more to be happy about. His scheme was working, and he'd not only get payback on the ravenous and sadistic Pie, whose one-pony ventriloquism tour called "Comedy Things With A Totally Not Real Corpse" (she'd fished it out of the river when no one was looking) had earned four stars from various critics, but nobody would be none the wiser.

Much time passed.

"Mpmhmpm," she squealed happily. To Spike's dismay, Pinkie was much larger now and there seemed to be no end in sight to her insatiable gluttony. The mountain of treats that lay before her had barely a dent, but Spike was still taken aback. Any normal pony couldn't possibly eat this much. "But,"he thought, "this is Pinkie Pie." Speaking of the budding ventriloquist, Her face now sported four large chins that glistened with sweat from the many folds of fat she had gained. She showed no knowledge of Spike's intentions, for the feeling of food filling her up was simply too satisfying. She could no longer stand on all fours any longer, for her plush, taut, and immense stomach prevented her legs from touching the ground. Her plot had expanded to a huge level, and her cutie mark had stretched to well over ten times its original size. And yet, she felt nothing yet. "Surely she'll give in soon," thought Spike.

But alas, Pinkie groaned for more, whining intermittently. Spike, despite his hatred for Pinkie, was all too happy to oblige. He'd come well prepared, and produced a cliche, but effective feeding tube. He inserted it snugly into Pinkie's gaping maw, who submitted obliviously. Spike allowed the high-tech machine to do his job for him, and the immeasurable blob grew ever larger.

Spike did this not for Pinkie's pleasure, but for his own devious purposes. At some point, Pinkie had to become full, and then the fun part would begin.

This came sooner than Spike could have hoped for. Some time later, the monstrously obese Pinkie started spluttering. Spike figured it was time to hear what Pinkie had to say for herself. He flicked the machine's button to 'off' and waited for Pinkie to finish coughing and releasing gas before he asked, "What's wrong?"

"T-that's enough, Spike..." She groaned. "I don't want any more."

Spike pretended not to hear.

"S-Spike? I can't take the tube out...can you d-do it for me? I'm so full..."

It had taken a lot for her to become full, as well. Her reddened, swollen stomach was so massive it had pushed her up to the top of the ceiling, which rose several metres high above Spike's, but not Pinkie's, heads. It would take an Asian to count the number of chins Pinkie had on her face, and her ass was so large each cheek wobbled violently with the slightest movements. Her cutie mark had stretched to a preposterous size. Her impossibly immense belly occasionally grumbled and her digestive noises were so loud that anyone within a mile could have sworn a carpet-bombing was occuring.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. You want me to turn it back on?" asked Spike, unable to contain the smile breaking out on his face.

"N-no..."whined Pinkie, "take it out..."

"As you wish!" Laughed Spike, and flipped the switch into the serendipitously placed "Overdrive" mode.

Pinkie could not protest for the many pounds of liquified food entering her gullet, and she began swelling at a blinding pace. It wasn't long until her head touched the roof of the kitchen, and her stomach began to overflow. Slowly, it reached its limits, causing Pinkie slowly more and more discomfort until she began writhing in pure, unmatched, ceaseless agony.

As the lining of her stomach gave way, the thousands of pounds of food inside it flowed freely throughout her body and out of every orifice. She couldn't even scream in agony as she leaked blood and digestive juices from her body, which began to tear her skin open from the sheer pressure. Pinkie realised too late what Spike intended as her immense form exploded in a sea of digested food, blood, vomit, entrails and feces.

The cleanup process was brutal. Spike took several days at a time to clean up the remains of Pinkie, who still had many yummy, meaty chunks in her corpse. Spike, in a sadistic move, chowed down on a piece of Pinkie and enjoyed it, which got him thinking.

Using the freshest parts of the not-so fresh horse, he made hundreds, maybe thousands of culinary delights and sold them to suppliers, who couldn't quite put their hooves on the peculiar, but delicious taste. They proved to be a big hit, and Spike, now rolling in riches, laughed deviously as he considered the irony Pinkie ultimately just being a pie, as he bit into the strange-tasting pastry, and smiled, crossing off "Pinkie Pie" from the list in his claws.