Shooting Star’s gun twirled on the tip of her wing, minute movements causing it to spin along the trigger. The safety was set into the ‘on’ position, of course, which ended up being the smart thing to do as the gun went flying through the air, slamming against the wall of the security office with a loud clang. Her tufted ears folded back, pinning against her head.
Her office was, well, tiny. In a way, it made sense. They had only been underground for three days and, as the only security officer assigned, had done absolutely nothing. She didn’t need to do much. The citizens were still settling in and all but the strongest were reeling emotionally. The terminal in her office was devoid of any communication. Nobody had sent her any mail, or acted out in any way. She hadn’t resolved any conflicts. But today was different.
Today, there were complaints. Today, the e-mail titled “WHERES THE FUCKING GYM” arrived. Today, Shooting Star, security officer of Stable 82, was going to investigate complaints that the exercise room depicted on the map of the stable didn’t exist.
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
“...And see, there’s nothing.”
Shooting Star narrowed her eyes at the wall she stood in front of. The bat pony looked down at the map in her gray hoof, squinting at the paper, too. “Gym”, said the map. Nothing, said the wall. There wasn’t even a door -- it was as if the space that was cleared out for the gym was filled back in while they built the place.
She double checked to make sure she had the right hall, taking a few steps back to see what was down the corridor to the left. A small sign with the words “CLINIC” were illuminated by a dull, electric light. Back down to the map, a bit of blue mane bouncing into her vision, and sure enough to the left of where she thought she was a little label called “CLINIC”, right where it should be.
Right ahead of it, down the corridor Shooting was standing in front of, was “GYM”, but when she looked forward at the corresponding place in the physical world there was nothing. She was in the right spot, but the door wasn’t.
The gym literally didn’t exist.
“Maybe it’s somewhere else,” Shooting Star offered up, giving a little roll of one of her shoulders. She never did like wearing uniforms, and the armor she had strapped to her chest was even worse thanks to it’s bulk. Still, considering they’d only been underground for such a short time, she didn’t want to piss off the Overmare immediately, so she wore it like she was told.
“Well, where?” The unicorn snipped, words short and coarse. If she remembered correctly, the mare was Mint Chip. She wasn’t an athlete, but an ice cream parlor owner. The bowl of green lumps on her flanks backed up this theory.To her credit, the exercise regimen she had herself on worked, slipping to the gym after her shifts at the parlor to keep herself trim despite a steady diet of ice cream. Unicorns usually had a softness to them that this one didn’t, her chestnut coat clinging to her musculature and outlining some lithe curves.
“Not sure,” Shooting replied. As the unicorn’s eyes narrowed, her wing extended just a smidge to brush against the handle of her gun, making sure it wasn’t left on the floor of her office.
“Because -- look, the engineer ponies, they haven’t gotten the food dispensers fixed.” Mint Chip drew in a heavy breath before letting it all out. “So I don’t mean to get coarse with you, but I haven’t eaten anything but snack cakes and ice cream in three days, and I really need to work out.” Each word was hissed.
Shooting’s brow creased. They hadn’t? She assumed by now the ponies working in the galley on the food dispensers had fixed them by now, but she hadn’t been there in… over a day? As if on cue, her stomach let out a low growl. Yes, probably over a day. “Alright. Listen,” Shooting said, reaching a hoof out to rest on Mint’s shoulder. She calmed immediately, letting out a breath. “I’m going to find the gym. And when I do, you are the first pony I will inform. You’ll get first crack at the new equipment. Deal?” She knew it wasn’t the answer Mint Chip was looking for, but it was the best one she had.
“Yeah,” Mint Chip said, punctuating it with a sigh. “That’s… fine.” Her expression lost its edge as her scowl leveled out. “Thank you, Shooting.”
“No problem,” she said, mouth pulling back into a smile. Her little white fangs poked out from the top of her mouth outside of her grin, visible. “Stay safe, Mint.”
“You too. And get something to eat,” Mint said, nodding towards her. “I can hear your stomach from here. Some of the other mares, they aren’t adjusting well -- they refuse to eat. Stay strong, okay?”
“Yeah. I was going to head there now, anyway.” She bowed her head. “I’ll find you as soon as I find the gym,” she said, before she turned.
Alone, she turned down the clinic hall before she paused and shook her head. Where was the galley, again?
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
As it turns out, the engineering ponies of Stable 82 were not quite as good at fixing things as they thought they were. At least, that was the consensus going around the Stable as they declared they couldn’t fix the issues plaguing the cafeteria. Or… was it a galley? Shooting had heard both the past few days, and just stopped caring after the conversation came up enough times.
“It isn’t broken,” one of them said. Unicorn, blue coat with a darker blue mane. The bandana she wore around her head was stained with grease, as were her hooves and parts of her jumpsuit, too. Still, that cutie mark comprised of a blueberry and a set of gears arguably made her the most qualified out of all of them without more research; nobody else seemed to have an mechanical skill. She’d know best, Shooting thought, but the other ponies disagreed. “This is what it’s designed to do!”
A chorus of “boo”s echoed through the large dining room. In fact, the longer Shooting thought about it the weirder it’s size was. Just like the gym, she could have sworn it was different than the map. Bigger, and the rooms around it smaller.
Even with it’s size, the metal interior of the stable reverberated sound and the room was filled with a cacophony of angry ponies, shouting about this or that. She couldn’t keep up with everything, her ears flattening against her head at all the noise. It was a racket, and the moment the crowd started closing in on the small crew of engineers, Shooting stepped in. She’d come here for a meal, but it could wait -- her job commanded she have something to do.
“Hey, hey!” She shouted as she stepped into the fray, still wearing her armor with her holster filled. “That’s enough! That’s enough!” Her voice raised to a shout as she was ignored, the sound from her chest was louder than the crowd. Ponies started quieting down, the dozens of pairs of eyes locking onto the loudest of the group: Shooting Star. “Listen, they are trying their best,” she said, voice still raised to make sure everyone could hear them. “I know everyone is frustrated, believe me, but getting mad at them isn’t helping.”
Behind her, Shooting could hear the engineer pair agree. The crowd died down for a short moment before one mare in particular stepped forward. She was a smidge taller, maybe an inch, but had quite a few pounds on Shooting. She recognized her as the earth pony mare who owned the donut shop back in Hollow Shades, and being around desserts all the time had a noticeable effect on her figure, being quite heavy set and one of the most overweight in the stable. Blue coat, tan mane and a glazed donut on her wide flanks -- bottom heavy, too. “And who do you think you are?” she said between gritted teeth. “Are you the Overmare?”
“No, I’m not, bu-”
“Then why do you think what you say matters? Get out of the way so we can get answers! We’re locked in here, and we don’t even know if the megaspells really hit.” She pressed forward, stepping right into Shooting’s personal space without a hint of hesitation.
Shooting didn’t give up an inch. Her eyebrows creased as she looked her flat in the eyes, staring her down. “One more time, I’m going to warn you,” she said, glare never wavering. “If you think you are going to get any closer to the engineering ponies, you are wrong. They’re innocent. They are doing far more than you are to help the situation.”
The donut flanked mare flared her nostrils as she kept her stance for a few moments, but when Shooting remained right in place she faltered after a few moments. Stamping a hoof against the metal floor, the heavy set mare spun on her hoof and stomped away, the violent motions causing the mare’s too-tight jumpsuit to wobble against her thick figure.
“Are there any other concerns?” Shooting said, head pointing to the crowd in whole, looking left to right. The angry glare that tinted her face when up close with the donut mare was gone, replaced by a calm, serene softness of expression. Whether it was the armor and weapons she carried or the way with which she was able to handle the situation, the crowd’s anger petered out. There were a few angry holdouts, but most of the group had calmed down if not just started to wander away. “Give them time. A little more. I’m sure we can figure out something. Okay?”
Ponies shuffled on, some returning to the dispensers despite their lack of desired food. Others stomped out of the galley, disappearing behind the metal doors, but the crowd dispersed nonetheless. By the time Shooting turned around, the pair of engineers had disappeared too.
She hadn’t eaten in over a day, but after the adrenaline started pumping her appetite blew away in the verbal battle. The hair on her neck was still standing up straight and her ears hadn’t resurfaced out of her mane, but she’d done well. Physical conflict avoided. With nobody at a boiling point any longer, she turned and exited.
“Hey,” the engineer mare said, trotting a little faster to catch up to Shooting Star in the hallway. “I just wanted to thank you for that, back there.”
“It’s fine. That’s my job,” Shooting said, pausing in her step to turn and smile at the mare. Apparently she’d just gotten out of the room, but didn’t go far. “While I have you here, though, two things. What’s your name, and… what really is going on with the food dispensers?”
The unicorn took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “Blueberry Cream,” she said, introducing herself. “And, as far as we’ve been able to tell so far, the dispensers were… designed this way.”
“In… what way? To only dispense, what, junk food?”
“Best as we can tell,” Blueberry Cream said, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. “Nothing is broken. Nothing is missing. The manuals we have, we’re looking over them, they don’t… the machines are slightly different. Mostly that everything is either prepackaged snack or dessert. There’s no kind of ‘real’ food,” she said, “just… junk. I mean, it’s filling enough, and we can survive on it, but… it’s a lot of sugar. A lot of ponies -- it’s mostly worrying about weight. We have a lot of athletes here. They were hoping for more protein, less sugars.”
As far as Shooting could tell, she was right. There were an inordinate amount of athlete ponies in the stable, there having been an Equestrian Games pre-event traveling through the relatively small town at the exact moment the call was made to evacuate. There wasn’t anything for them to do in Hollow Shades, but they did soak up all the hotel rooms.
Blueberry Cream, however, was not one of those mares. She was soft of build above ground, and that hadn’t changed with her admission into the stable.
“Right,” Shooting said. “Have you checked the storage areas? The dispensers must be pulling food from somewhere, aren’t they? What if we go look down there?”
“Already tried. All the doors into the basement storage areas are locked, and none of our manuals have any kind of information on it. We should have access to them,” she said, looking down and nodding her head at the ID badge on her chest, which, being in Engineering, should have given her access to everything. “But we get denied. Overmare only. Who… I haven’t seen in, well… Actually, I haven’t ever seen her.”
“I’ve spoken with her,” Shooting said, giving a short nod. “I’ll see if I can’t get a hold of her again and get access down there. You haven’t had a chance to check out the farming rooms, have you? I know food is getting to be the big thing around here already, how quick can we get those operational?”
“I… well, farming isn’t exactly my thing,” Blueberry said, mane bobbing as she shook her head. “But, we could go take a look? Gizmo turned tail, she’s probably half way back to her room by now, but I’m curious and I feel kind of bad.” She gave a little sigh, grin turning lopsided. “If I can’t fix the dispensers, I’d like to see if we can get the apples growing.”
Shooting tapped at the green screen that was now screwed onto her wrist. A Pipbuck, the stable mechanic told her. A few pokes earlier had shown her there was already a map on the device, so she’d abandoned the paper one some time ago. Soon enough, she had a detailed layout of the Stable on the screen, directions to the farming rooms committed to memory.
“Down this way,” Shooting Star said, nodding down the hallway as they both began to trot that direction. “So… other than the dispensers, is everything else operating normally?”
“Oh, yes,” Blueberry said, keeping pace. “As far as Gizmo and I can tell, from the limited knowledge we have, yes. Everything is operating at optimal levels. The water talisman is fine, the generator is at max efficiency, all systems are operational. Just the food stores are, well, out of whack. Oh -- also, we couldn’t find any spare parts for the gym, either,” Blueberry said. “There’s a section for them, but it’s empty. Make sure ponies don’t beat up the equipment too bad, we might not be able to fix some of it.”
Shooting bit her tongue at the news, keeping herself from expressing the surprise she wore on her face. Thankfully, she was ahead, and she could keep her demeanor calm. That won’t be an issue, she thought. “Right. I’ll make sure of it. But, hey,” she said, pausing in her trot to point a hoof ahead of them. A large, lighted sign in the middle of the hallway’s roof stated “FARM”. With no hesitation, the pair marched right to the door and pushed it open, walking in.
The room was wide open and spacious; easily the largest in the entire stable. A ceiling reaching up a good twelve or thirteen feet stretched out above them, and Shooting gawked up at it. This room was big enough to easily fly in! A wave of relief washed over her, before she looked across the rest of it. A shining sun - or, at least, a digital mock up of one - rose high in the air, bathing the room in bright white light. Her eyes stung at the sight, burning as her slitted pupils immediately started shrinking, but any pony would be happy to see some sign of the outdoors after days of being underground even if it was fake.
Her gaze lowered, and a pang of guilt for feeling relieved smacked her right in the chest. The big, green plots of land were anything but. There was nothing green here. The spacious room was filled with dirt in neat little tracts but the luscious green grass that should have been ready for planting had nothing at all. It was just dirt. Boring, shitty, dirt.
Frustration bit at Shooting’s emotions, little demons of anger clawing up inside of her. She fought them down -- the toughest days had yet to come, and she had to maintain a level head. Even if it was only until she got back to her room. Blueberry sighed behind her, prompting her to give a little frustrated groan herself.
The tank of a mare that was standing in the back of the room perked up at the noise. She was snout deep into some sort of container, raising up when she realized company had entered. She was just plain large, built like, well, a horse. She had a good eight or nine inches on most stallions in the stable, and several dozen pounds, too, in the form of stocky muscle. The faded red coat that bathed her body clung tight to her musculature, dirty blonde mane tied up in a bun behind her head.
And an apple on her cutie mark. This, Shooting stereotyped, was their farmer.
“Ya’ll wouldn’t happen to know where a mare can get some apple seeds ‘round here, would you?” Her voice rumbled low.
“There aren’t any here?” Shooting asked.
“Darlin’, would Ah be askin’ if there were?” she asked, voice tinted by a heavy southern drawl. Her head lowered back towards the metal locker she was in a moment ago, nodding towards it. “This is the seed storage.” Her back leg stretched to kick it open, swinging it wide to reveal an abundance of nothing. “Empty. Ain’t a one. Dryer than yer grandmother in a desert.”
Shooting paused for a moment, blinked her eyes, then spoke to the earlier comment. At least, she tried, before just closing her mouth. There weren’t any seeds. There wasn’t a gym. There were malfunctioning food vendors -- or, rather, perfectly functioning food vendors that didn’t have anything but snack cakes.
“This,” Blueberry said, reminding Shooting she was still there, “actually kind of sucks.”
Shooting Star chewed her bottom lip, ears pinning back as she tensed her legs, trying to calm herself. “I don’t understand,” she said out loud, half to herself. “Nothing… none of this makes sense. This place -- it’s supposed to be self sufficient.” She glanced up at the other two mares, shaking her head. “We can’t grow food. All we really have are these calorie bombs in the galley.”
“Gym’s missin’, too,” the apple pony said. When Shooting looked at her with widened eyes, she added, “yeah, you noticed that too? Ah’ve been lookin’. Ain’t where it’s supposed t’be.” The silence lingered in the air for a few moments, before the large mare held out a leg. “Bailey Sweet, by the way.”
Shooting placed her hoof against Bailey’s, giving it a short shake. “Shooting Star. It’s all a bit of a perfect storm, isn’t it?”
“Blueberry Cream,” the engineer pony said, holding out her hoof for a shake too.
“Yeah. If Ah didn’t know better, Ah’d say it almost seems like this was… Ah dunno. Planned? What are the chances of all of this goin’ on at the same time?”
“What are you say -”
“Ah ain’t say nothin’, sugar,” Bailey said, chuckling with a deep, hearty laugh. “But, don’t hurt to think about, does it? It seems odd for all of these things to go wrong in exactly this order.” She took a deep breath in through her nose as she turned to look at the dead farm, the mounds of dirt sitting in tracts. The other two followed her gaze, the three turning back to each other with a somber look. “Just thinkin’ out loud. And Ah’m guessin’ that, given you’re wearin’ that armor and that gun, you ain’t investigatin’ the orchard for nothin’,” she said, with a nod to Shooting’s hip.
“I’d be lying if I said I was,” Shooting said, nodding. “I’m going to try and get in touch with the Overmare about all of this -- I think that’s the best course of action.”
Blueberry and Bailey nodded in agreement. “Ah think that’s best, sugar.”
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
Shooting Star shot awake, hoof clutching her stomach and checking for the knife she was certain was lodged into her underside. A brief searched showed no metal sticking from her, but the pain remained; a sharp, agonizing point that spread out from within her, doubling her over in her bed.
A long hiss seeped out from between her fangs, sweat beading on the corners of her forehead as her wing shot out to slap against the light switch. Dim, low lights sparked, bathing Shooting Star in just enough light to see without stinging her eyes. As her stomach growled she let out a hearty moan, pain rippling through her stomach.
Hunger pangs. It wasn’t often that she’d felt them, but she could recognize it well enough. She didn’t eat the day before, or the day before that - work kept her busy enough and the stress of the Stable worried enough that she didn’t have the time. Still, these were strong and sudden. She was hungry, but this was a whole new level.
Exhausted, she still found herself crawling out from under her sheets, one wing clutched around her stomach and wrapping around to the other side. She ignored the armor and her gun, needing neither to make it to the galley and end the contractions in her stomach. “Holy shit,” she wheezed, gasping as she lifted the door out into the hallway.
Her legs moved faster than a trot, a few moments at best needed to take her into the galley and throw the door open, galloping inside and smacking face first into Bailey Sweet’s side. Against the much larger mare, Shooting’s momentum didn’t stand a chance and she realized she was across the floor, sprawled out on her side.
“Whoops,” Bailey said. “Didn’t see you there, sugar.” She hadn’t even moved when Shooting knocked into her, sturdy as a tree and unwavering in her stance.
Regaining her footing, Shooting pulled herself up to her hooves, eyes scanning the room now that her pupils had adjusted. The sheer volume of the room shook her. There were a lot of ponies here, considering the time; a quick glance at the clock at the top of the galley’s exit confirmed that it was right around way too early o’clock: 3:23 AM. Even still, the lack of sleep didn’t seem to prevent the entire wing of dormitories Shooting shared a room with from being here, almost everyone indulging in some form of sweet treat from the food dispensers. Another quick look told her she didn’t recognize anyone -- a few ponies here and there, but this was mostly the athletes and staff from the Equestrian Games that happened to be passing through.
Bailey, too, seemed to be at the forefront of this feasting. The mare had plates literally stacked along her back, several trays loaded down with all kinds of junk. Snack cakes, pie slices, cupcakes and muffins -- even a bowl of ice cream was perched across her hips, the mare taking slow, deliberate steps to the table. “C’mon, Shooting, everyone’s eatin’! Ah know you’re hungry.”
Shooting’s stomach rolled with hunger at the mention of how hungry she was, another stabbing pain through her middle telling her she needed to eat now. “Starving,” she said, voice a whisper. It was far too early to be social.
“Not quite sure what’s goin’ on,” Bailey said, bumping the side of her barrel against an open table. With a precise nudge, the trays of food she’d served herself slipped right off of her back and onto the surface, the large mare sitting herself down afterwards. “Whole wing started just wakin’ up, moanin’ ‘bout bein’ hungry -- self included. So, here we are.”
While Bailey spoke, Shooting realized that she was plucking food off of her tray. Without asking, one of those big slices of pie (blueberry, as it turns out) was in front of her and she started devouring it that same moment without even responding.
“Yeah, lot’s of ponies doin’ that,” Bailey said with a snicker at the lack of response. She, too, positioned a few plates right in front of herself and dug in, indiscriminately taking massive bites out of whatever was in front of her.
Gluttony washed over the galley like a wave in a flurry of hungry ponies. Even as ponies were shoveling the fattening foods in the dispensers down their throat, others were lining up for seconds or thirds, even this early -- it was a common sight, Shooting realized, to see distended bellies and ponies waddling up to the dispensers to get even more. Swollen with fullness, the mares and stallions her office shared space with were still very close to trampling each other to get more food. It wasn’t a serious stampede, but she could easily see the situation turning into a conflict if someone said the wrong thing or broke the wrong machine.
The third and fourth plate Shooting snuck away from Bailey’s tray were gone before she even realized she’d grabbed more of it. It was almost mechanical the amount of effort she was putting into thinking about consuming the food in front of her. The hunger pangs were gone, the painful reminder to eat having passed, but still there was a little nibble at the back of her head pressing her onward. A fifth plate - one containing several sugar-laden apple muffins - was Shooting’s next selection, sinking her fangs successively into the impromptu breakfast treats.
Bailey, on the other hand, was a wrecking ball of hunger. In the time Shooting had eaten several plates, the massive earth pony had bowled through several trays and was still going. She was putting her naturally larger size to good use, her capacity huge compared to most ponies. Even still, a good deal of it was settling into that stomach and a quick glance down told Shooting that she had to be getting full, Bailey’s muscled stomach growing round as they ate.
She, too, was feeling the effects, leaning one of her rear legs to the side as her stomach swelled, her flat middle gaining a little roundness as she stuffed muffins into her mouth. The hunger pangs had passed, but were rapidly being replaced by feelings of overfullness. “Mm, hold on,” Bailey said, biting down on the trays to stack them in a neat pile of dirty dishes before standing.
She waded through the crowd of ponies near the dispensers, ignoring the line as she nudged and bumped ponies out of her way. Given she towered over the crowd, nobody stepped forward to stop her even if several did give little snorts of annoyance at the bulky mare’s brutish behavior. Still, rearmed with several trays of additional food, Bailey made her way back to the table, knocking all of the second course off of her back and onto the surface between her and Shooting.
The two pounced on the additional food like they hadn’t already stuffed themselves minutes ago. “This is… actually really good,” Shooting said, regaining some of her talkative nature now that the pain in her gut wasn’t looming over her any longer. “Kind of wasn’t expecting it, but… ooh, are those cupcakes?” Without even waiting for a response, Shooting’s hoof latched onto the plate of what were sure enough cupcakes. Before it was pulled out of reach, Bailey’s mouth opened and chomped one whole as it moved, swallowing it down before letting her keep the rest.
“Yeah. This is somethin’...” Bailey said, eyes running across the room as she scarfed down another plate, this one of glazed, pre-packaged pies. Two bites and the sugary glaze, crust and lemon filling were all gone. “Odd that everyone’s gettin’ so -- mmph -- hungry so suddenly, ain’t it?”
“What are you implying?” Shooting asked. Her mind was only half there on the conversation, the rest of her attention on the cupcakes. Her pace was slowing. The poor mare felt like she was ready to pop, gray belly rolling forward from her barrel to the point she could feel it brush against her legs the slightest bit. “I’m… mmh, actually, I’m getting pretty… full.”
“Then quit eatin’,” Bailey said, a large apple fritter being stuffed into her mouth as she gorged herself further.
“I will. Just a few more,” Shooting said, mouth opening as she scarfed down another cupcake. “But… what are you getting at here, Bailey?”
“Let me ask you somethin’,” Bailey said, clearing off another plate. She paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath through her nose as she leaned back, a hoof reaching down to brush against her very swollen stomach. Even from where Shooting was sitting she could see how round she was -- poor mare looked like she was just about early on in a pregnancy. “Overmare ever get back to you?”
“No,” Shooting said. Finally, after another pair of cupcakes, she shoved the plate away and leaned her chest against the table, a long groan escaping her lips as she, too, pressed a hoof against her now firm, round stomach. A little echo of pain shot across her taut middle as her stomach cringed, trying to start digesting the massive meal. “Ow. No. She never answered any of my messages and it’s been three days.”
“Yeah,” Bailey said, “Ah didn’t think so.” She, too, reached her limit after plowing through another plate. Neither had even paid attention to what was on it, but it was food so it was demolished. Trace amounts of snack foods were still laid out around them, each one glancing down at them before turning back to each other. No way, no more. “Golly, Ah don’t think I’ve… erf… ever eaten so damn much in my life,” she said, both hooves resting on the swollen stomach that parted her back legs.
A loud gurgle rose from Shooting’s own middle as if responding to Bailey for her, the mare shaking her head. “Yeah… me neither. I’m going to look into it more. This is… strange.”
A cursory look around the room told her more than ever. All around the galley were ponies stuffed to their absolute limit, many of them athletes who had - up until now, anyway - been shocked and concerned about the number of calories they were consuming.
No more, apparently.
Each and every mare and stallion in the room was reduced to a waddle, stomachs bulging and swollen beneath them, each one either still taking small bites or letting out long groans of overfullness. Many, she noticed, had unzipped their jumpsuits to give their guts a little more space, tight from just how round they had grown. It was like a possession, a primal instinct, had hit every single person in their dorm.
A hefty burp rose up out of Shooting’s chest, catching her off guard and spilling out of her mouth before she clamped her hooves around it. “‘Scuse me.”
“No worries, girl. Now, Ah don’t know about you, but,” Bailey said, rising up to her hooves. Her stomach was truly impressive, from a weird standpoint, the mare’s size advantage applying to her stomach capacity, too. “Ah’m goin’ back to bed, first.”
“Yeah. I’m going to… sleep this off,” Shooting said, standing up with a careful wobble, keeping her hooves spread a tiny bit to keep her stomach from bouncing against her steady legs. “Then, we’re going to go knock on her door ourselves.”
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
Author's Note
The following characters were generously offered up for me to use by fans:
Mint Chip, Glaze Filling and Blueberry Cream from anonymous submitters
Gizmo Gears from FernandoNanuk
Bailey Sweet Apple from Stonershy
Chapter 2: "Election" Time
Shooting Star let out as much breath as she could before she tried to buckle up the armor vest that was part of her uniform. She pulled up with her abdominal muscles, sucking in what she could, before she pushed the clasps together around her middle with her wings and… click.
She was nervous to let her breath in again, but she relaxed her tensed muscles. The strap around her grew tighter as she filled it out, but sure enough it held. She inhaled a deep breath - well, as deep as she could - and let it out. Good. She could still fit into it. Barely, but it fit. Even if her paunch did bulge over the back of it, and even if her gray belly did brush against her legs thanks to the shape of the vest squishing it, it fit.
Considering everything else in the Stable, the thought of why only one size of security vest was available crossed her mind, but she shook her head. It didn’t really matter. As she looked around the room, her wing came forward to grab onto her pistol, holstering it along her side as she did a mental check to be sure everything was ready before she left.
She raised her left foreleg, looking at the green screen of the Pipbuck she wore. The tip of her wing clicked against the surface, bringing up the map that, as security personnel, showed the locations of everyone who was also equipped with a pipbuck. In essence, everypony.
A large blob of dots were gathering around the atrium. Even more were filtering in through the hallways, crowds of little individual dots rushing down the simulated hallways of the Stable.
Something was happening.
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
Shooting pushed her way into the crowd that had settled into the stable’s atrium. The room itself was massive, a three story, metal room that stretched high. The stable entrance, that massive steel door, was visible from there. Much like the orchard, a large, electronic sky was above them, the blazing radiance of the artificial sun lighting the room as if the roof were wide open.
Nopony resisted when she nudged them aside once they realized who it was, which gave her slight pause in her step. Whatever was ahead, it wasn’t something people wanted to be the first in line for. “Hey, guys, come on,” she said as she pushed through. “Let me see.” Shooting was surprised by how well her voice carried, realizing that the few ponies chatting were doing so a whisper.
Shooting breached the front line of ponies, and her eyes went wide.
Where there had been a small patch of dirt - Shooting had assumed it was intended to be a garden, but considering the lack of all other seeds was it reduced to dirt - was now a mechanical sight to see. A large, industrial size scale, like one would weigh a carriage with, had appeared in the center, an electronic screen perched above it by two poles. To it’s side was another screen, this one much taller, displaying “OVERMARE RANKINGS:” at the top. Beneath it, a timer that read “23:03:45” with each second ticking down the third number by one.
Shooting’s heart fluttered as she looked at it. Overmare rankings? The scale was ominous in size; stables didn’t have anything that needed to be weighed on this heavy-duty of a device.
She took a tentative step forward, edging out in front of the crowd that had gathered in a semicircle around the new device. The voices that were sending hushed whispers back and forth quieted down, and she could feel the gaze of hundreds of eyes watching her every move, bathing every inch of her.
This was her job. She had to be the brave one. The Overmare had effectively abandoned her post and judging by the crowd doing nothing but staring as she approached. Nobody else was going to be the first one up.
As she set her hoof down on the huge scale, the number ticked up by four. With a little hop, Shooting Star lifted herself onto it. After a moment, the scale registered a new number: 142. She swallowed as it read her weight to the entire crowd - that was higher than she would have liked people to have seen. Granted, she hadn’t seen her weight in a long while, but last she remembered it was in the 120 range.
A moment later, the other electronic screen changed. Underneath the timer, “1. SHOOTING STAR - 142” appeared.
The reaction was instant. The group of onlookers turned from a quiet audience to a rowdy crowd in the blink of an eye, and without pause several ponies rushed forward to throw themselves onto the scale. “Stop, stop! One at a time!” Shooting shouted as loud as she could, and the ponies rushing ahead slowed just a moment, each one less than an inch away from the scale that now stood before them.
Shooting backed down off of the device, the number spinning back to zero. Not a second later did another mare pounce on it. Shooting was envious as her number clicked in at 140, and not long after “2. JINXABELLE - 140” appeared on the secondary monitor.
Ranking was by weight. Shooting wasn’t sure exactly what, but there was something to do with the Overmare. A griffon shoved ahead after the earth pony departed, her weight ticking around to 162. “1. MOCHA - 162” appeared, pushing Shooting’s name down a peg. The griffon hopped off the metal plate and fist-bumped another griffon, quite pleased she had made it to the top of the list.
Several ponies approached the scale, but all left disappointed. The heavier-set griffon had remained at the top -- though one pony did hit 160 even, just barely below her.
“Move!” someone shouted, voice rising above the chatter of the crowd. Shooting turned towards the voice, eyes settling on the pissy blue mare she’d been confronted by well over a week ago in the galley. She’d been hitting the food dispensers hard, it seemed. She was thick before, but the temptation of unlimited free snacks was proving to be a little much for her - she was downright fat now. A large portion of added pounds were layered on her hips, widening her frame, but there was no doubt that belly had grown an inch or two closer to the ground as well, the soft curve of her gut brushing against her legs as she walked forward, the crowd having parted to allow her passage.
“Enough of this,” she said, stepping up onto the scale as she spoke. “You rabble wouldn’t even know what to do if you won. Just say back.” The number began to spin before it leveled out at 224 pounds, far and above the number one spot. “1. GLAZE FILLING - 224” appeared at the top of the list, beating out the minutes-long champion, Mocha.
Shooting swallowed hard.
Anyone but her.
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
“Bailey, Blueberry,” Shooting said as she threw herself into the dead orchard, breath heavy from the expedited run to the unpopulated room. “I think I’m going to need a hoof with this.”
The two mares looked up from their respective feasts, empty boxes of junk food surrounding the pair. Both were gorged on sugary treats, both sporting rounded middles packed with food, but they were still munching away while discussing something.
Bailey’s naturally larger capacity wasn’t doing her any favors once appetites ramped up. She was still muscular but a lot of the definition along her curvier parts were eroding as she ate mass quantities of calorie ridden foods. She was gaining a good deal of softness around her hips and middle, any abdominal muscles completely gone under a soft layer of chub that rolled forward from her figure - at least, what would be a soft layer of chub if she wasn’t eating herself to bloated on a daily basis. Hips were wider, too, the strong leg muscles from bucking trees for apples having turned curvaceous rather than rigid. Even still, she had an aura of strength around her, the added weight doing little to make her less intimidating.
Blueberry, too, was softening up even more so now that she was stuck down here. The jumpsuit she wore clung to her rounder figure, the zipper unable to close as the fabric wrapped around her lower half, a round, blue belly poking out from between the spliced halves, though it, too, was swollen and taut with the breakfast-binge the pair were partaking in.
“What’s going on?” Blueberry asked. Though she’d eaten herself visibly full, she didn’t waste any time raising another of the orange and red cupcakes she was devouring to her mouth, stuffing it whole into her maw before she chewed and swallowed.
“There’s a big… scale in the atrium, now.” Shooting nodded towards the door she came in from. “Something about Overmare selection. It… looks like it’s coming down to weight.”
“To… weight? What, it isn’t an election? Smallest mare gets to be leader?”
“No. I think it’s... heaviest.”
“...What?” Bailey said, speaking up.
“Yeah. Your time to shine, Bailey.” Shooting paused, realizing how that might be taken, and added: “no offense, of course. But, I think your height might give you an advantage here.”
“Sure, sugar. Height.” Bailey leaned back a touch and pressed a hoof in against her stomach, letting out a chuckle. “Ain’t got a thing to do with how much I’ve been eatin’ lately, I’m sure.”
Shooting chuckled, shaking her head. “I mean, it won’t hurt. In fact, if you wanted to have a little more, go weigh in while full… might give a slight advantage.” She, too, hadn’t done much but eat. Even now, with the Overmare “election” hanging over their heads, she trotted over to the pair of ponies and sat down herself, looking over the spread of junk food that was their breakfast. Picking a tray of apple fritters, she pulled it over to herself and stuffed a good chunk of one in her mouth. It had become a thoughtless process, just eating to sate the hunger they all felt.
“How is everyone else reacting, Star?” Blueberry asked. She always found that odd - unicorns kept calling her “Star” while everyone else went for “Shooting.” She brushed it off as a unicorn thing.
“I don’t think they really realize what’s happening,” Shooting said, stuffing another fritter into her mouth. She really should be watching what she was eating, she figured, considering how she barely fit into her uniform any more… but hunger was gnawing at her like it had been ever since that night in the galley. She ate without thinking about it, munching between words. “At first everyone was nervous, hushed, but then when I stepped on it first, well, suddenly everyone wanted a turn.” She shrugged. “Nobody is sure what it means. I’m not, either. I bet the Overmare does, but it’s not like any of us have heard anything in two weeks from her.”
“Me neither,” Blueberry said.
Bailey nodded in agreement, even if she hadn’t been actively trying to get in contact with the Overmare. Still, Shooting noted, she was quite ravenous even despite the lessened workload. The lion’s share of the stockpile of food was going to her and nobody contested that, the bulky mare knocking out entire plates in the time it took either of the others to finish half. She showed no signs of slowing, either, taking Shooting’s advice to fill up as much as possible before weigh-in.
“Most concerning is that… odd one, Glaze Filling, apparently. You know, the one who ran the donut shop in town,” she said, nodding to the pair. Blueberry nodded in return, but Bailey shook her head. Spotting Bailey, Shooting shook her head, too. “Right, sorry. You were with the Equestrian Games. Not Hollow Shades. Well, now you know her.”
“What’s so odd ‘bout ‘er?” Bailey said, giving a little squirm as she shoved another morsel into her maw. She was getting full.
“She’s like… conspiracy theory, kinda. Honestly doesn’t believe the megaspells ever dropped, thinks everything is okay outside.” Shooting, too, felt a little full, but remedied her condition by unbuckling the part of her vest that wrapped around her waist. It popped out thanks to the tension, that gray belly rounding out a little farther in front of her and freeing up a good deal of space. “Honestly? I’m afraid of her winning. She wants to open the Stable.”
Blueberry leaned back in surprise, soft belly letting out a slosh as it’s contents jostled from the movement. Still, though, another coffee cake -- her treat of choice, this morning -- floated up to her mouth and stuffed itself in before ever making a noise. “She does?”
“Yeah. Wants to prove everything outside is fine.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Sounds a mite - urp! - mmh, ‘scuse me. She’s loopy,” Bailey said, immediately following it up with another glazed, chocolate coated, cream filled eclair. Shooting chuckled to herself - whether it was intentional or not, it sure seemed like the apple pony always went for the highest calorie foods. Still, as she swallowed the last treat, Bailey leaned back, propping herself up against the wall behind her.
“Reckon that I’m gonna need a hoof here, girls,” she said, giving a little grunt as her back hit the wall, rear legs dangling in front of her. They spread apart, letting the huge stomach she was sporting round out in front of her. Were it not for the pile of empty wrappers and boxes around, she could have been mistaken for a late term pregnancy with twins. She was swollen. “I’ll be our little piggy. Jus’ fill me up. Don’t want this psycho mare winnin’, yeah?”
Shooting and Blueberry exchanged glances. “You’re sure?” Shooting asked.
“Yeah-huh. C’mon, don’t be shy. Just business, ain’t it?” Bailey grinned, giving a little chuckle. She was stuffed, to the point of pain, but her demeanor wouldn’t allow her to show any of it.
Blueberry nodded, horn glowing as she started to levitate a nearby treat; this one from the remnants of apple fritters Shooting had left behind. There was only one and a half from the dozen that were there to begin with, and the rounder belly that bulged out of the armor told a tale of their fate. It flew through the air before getting pushed into Bailey’s mouth, where she was happy to chomp through it.
“Well, you’ll be far more… adept at this than I will be,” Shooting said, chuckling at the relative ease a unicorn would have with the task at hand. No mess, no fuss. Just magic. Still, she didn’t want to be totally useless and tried to find something she would be able to help with, eyes running around the room. Perfect. They’d brought milk for the breakfast binge.
The farming equipment was useless considering there was no farming to be done, and so Shooting didn’t mind repurposing some of it for such an occasion. With Blueberry keeping Bailey occupied, she set to work. One of those lever activated seed spreaders came into her possession and she unscrewed the bottom of it, removing the spinning spokes and leaving just a round opening in the bottom.
Effectively, it now functioned just as a straight funnel. A wide one, but a funnel at heart.
“Shootin’, what are yo- mmh.” Bailey spoke, only to be interrupted by Blueberry’s magic stuffing another cake into her mouth.
“Well, just trying to help out how I can. Make this a bit easier on you.” A quick couple of additions and her invention was complete -- recycled farm tools and a hose making a small funnel with a tube. She held it out in a wing, then nodded to the gallon of milk, condensation turning the sides glossy. “What do you think?”
Blueberry nodded and, after swallowing, Bailey did too. “Yeah, let’s do it. All this dry stuff’s makin’ me thirsty.” Truthfully, Shooting doubted that, judging by the still swelling belly between Bailey’s legs. There’s no way that mare wasn’t full to the brim, but she had to admire her dedication.
Blueberry’s magic floated the makeshift funnel up into the air, holding it above Bailey’s head. “Alright, deep breath,” Blueberry said before the funnel snaked it’s way around, the bottom of the repurposed garden hose pushing into Bailey’s mouth. Bailey bit down, holding it in place. “Now, hold that there,” Blueberry said, and Shooting did as she was told, standing up on her hind legs to hold the funnel in position with her forelegs.
The gallon of milk (whole, Shooting noticed, of course) flew into the air not long after, the cap getting tossed to the side and the top pointed to the funnel. Glug, glug, glug. The jug emptied, the white, creamy liquid pouring down into the funnel, spiraling around and soon enough, pulled down into the hose by gravity, rushing it straight into Bailey’s throat.
She kicked one of her legs as the cold liquid hit her throat, but caught herself before any of it spilled. Shooting heard a light groan rise up out of her, watching the mare’s throat ripple as she chugged as fast as she could, gulping down swallow after swallow with gusto. Her forelegs had a light grip around her belly, as if trying to keep it from popping as it visibly swelled out even farther.
As the gallon of milk emptied out into Bailey’s stomach, the outer edges of her stomach began to grow a deeper red, the tight skin around her belly only growing tighter as she was stuffed even further past her limits. Bailey let out a little whuff, nearly causing herself to sputter, but kept it together - Shooting had to admit, she was impressed. She wouldn’t give up. “Yeah, Bailey. You’ve got this. Come on.”
Bailey nodded despite the wince that was permanently etched onto her face, snout drooping as she continued to chug, getting into a sort of rhythm. Glug, glug, breath. Glug, glug, breath. It was slow, but it was working, each swallow causing her stomach to fill out just a little farther and, more importantly, adding a little more weight to her. Shooting peeked up, noting that the jug was empty -- all that remained was what was left in the hose. “Go, Bailey. You’re almost done.”
Bailey let out a long whine through her nose, but she didn’t want to give up either. She tunneled through, ignoring every bodily function telling her to stop, and kept swallowing. The moment she found nothing but air she sputtered, mouth opening to retch the hose out of her mouth, sending it sputtering against the ground with just a few dribbles of cream oozing out of the bottom.
“Holy shit,” Bailey said, voice hoarse as she took a shallow breath. “I think I’m… urh… urp… Ain’t never in mah life… eaten - urp! - oh, ‘scuse… me.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting you to actually finish that,” Blueberry said, giving a little chuckle. “Or, I thought that, you know, you might… explode.”
Shooting shot a look at Blueberry, who gave a “what” expression in return. Still, Bailey couldn’t help but snicker before she winced. No, no laughing. It hurt. “Ain’t gonna pop. ...Feel like I’m gonna, but… well. Now, where’s this weigh in at, exactly?”
“The Atrium,” Shooting said, trotting over to stand at Bailey’s side. “You need help getting up to your hooves?”
“Yup,” Bailey said, trying her best to shuffle herself forward to at least get her back off of the wall, stomach giving some minor sloshes as it jostled. It almost certainly ached, but Bailey did her best to mask any pain she was feeling. With a sharp inhale and quite a bit of grumbling from all three, the massively overfed mare rolled forward, catching herself with her forelegs against the ground. She let out a heavy growl, stomach smacking against the floor in front of her, swollen enough that it bulged against the cold metal ground when sitting properly. “Ow,” she groaned, but with another slow movement she pushed herself up to her hooves.
Bailey’s stance was awkward at best, rear legs spread quite a bit to accommodate her added girth. Beads of sweat appeared at her forehead, the mare taking several slow, careful steps to avoid bouncing her ready-to-pop belly. “Yeah, alright. Let’s do this.”
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
The crowd that had grown around the scale had only gotten bigger and bigger in the time since Shooting had left it to it’s own devices. Ponies came from all over the Stable to weigh in, some of the heavier ones in particular trying their hoof at seeing where they ranked.
Shooting was still disappointed to see “1. GLAZE FILLING: 212” across the top of the leaderboard, despite the now long list of names under it, now totaling up to 100 before it cut off. Surely there were more who tried, but the screen could only hold so many before culling those with no chance.
“Alright, Bailey,” Shooting said, leaning up against her side with Blueberry supporting her opposite flank. Their trip was long and Bailey only grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment, the pair having to keep her walking by supporting some of her bulk. “Just up on that, then we’ll get you to your room.”
“Got it, sugar,” Bailey eeked out, voice low as another grumble rumbled her stomach. She might have been big, but she wasn’t built for carrying this much, and it showed.
“W-what is this?” echoed throughout the atrium as Shooting’s heart sank. Sure enough, the fat blue mare, Glaze Filling, shoved a pony out of the crowd, horn glowing as she stepped forward and into the semi-circle that had started around the noise. “What happened to her? What’s she doing?” she shouted, hoof waving through the air to jab towards Bailey’s stomach.
Bailey went to respond, but Shooting beat her to it. “None of your concern, Glaze.”
“I think it’s plenty of my concern, considering that,” Glaze said, hoof pointing to the lit leaderboard, “is my name on top of there. I am the one in the lead for Overmare.”
“The lead doesn’t mean anything, you’re not the winner yet,” Shooting countered. “Bailey had a lot to eat, that isn’t against the rules.”
“Yeah,” Blueberry sniped.
“So that’s how we’re going to play, is it?” Glaze’s snout shot up towards the blazing electronic sun, letting out an annoyed snort. “Very well, Shooting Star. I’ll make sure we’re on a very even playing field next time.”
“Yeah, Glaze, that’s fine,” Shooting said, rolling her eyes as she leaned over, nosing at Bailey’s side just a touch.
“Come on, you’re fine,” Blueberry said, horn glowing to telekinetically nudge at Bailey’s rump, prompting her to step forward and onto the scale. “Don’t worry about them.”
Lethargic, Bailey let out a little grumble and pulled herself up onto the scale. Standing still, legs still spread, she took a deep breath (or, at least, as deep as she could) and bit her lip, watching the number spin around before it settled onto 234.
Yes, Shooting thought, eyes flicking towards the leaderboard. Now, in second place, was the very grumpy mare stomping her way out of the room. Several of the ponies in attendance gasped, having spent the better part of the day watching Glaze reign on top before falling. The timer still ticked around, finally hitting the 11 hour mark, but most everyone knew that the real “race” was over - nopony was beating that score in the time limit.
“Guess the eatin’ wasn’t such a big deal, huh,” Bailey said, giving a little “heh”. “That’s a pretty solid lead.”
“Yeah, but we’ll have to stay on top of it. She’s… weird,” Shooting said. “Come on down, you deserve a break.” Holding a hoof out to support Bailey as she stepped down, she smiled and nodded towards her. “Thank you, Bailey. We’ll get through this.”
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
Shooting Star trotted through the halls of the Stable. Her destination: security office. There were a few other things she had to take care of, and the room to her right smelled absolutely divine.
The thought struck her like a train as she paused, midstep, and pointed her nose to the air. Another few sniffs, and sure enough, the overwhelming, almost cloying, scent of creamy vanilla smacked her across the snout. The lowest parts of her innards grumbled and screamed with hunger as the smell filled her body, seeping into the nooks and crannies of her barrel.
She’d just eaten. Quite a bit, in fact, the strained straps of her armor being evidence; yet she wanted more. A lot more. She’d been mentally battling with herself by the time she entered the room, unaware aware of her actions, and before her was the most wondrous sight.
It seemed the Stable had a knack for things appearing out of nowhere, and this massive ice cream buffet was no exception, having risen out of the floor of the galley. The tables and chairs were mechanically pulled and pushed to line along the sides of the room, replacing their space with a massive display of overabundance. Several rows of new tables took up the room instead, each one with frozen delights.
Vanilla seemed to be the flavor of the day and troughs of the frozen stuff were set along the tables. Shooting couldn’t help but wonder where this was being stored, or if it had been there the whole time. Though, she realized she didn’t really care, she just wanted to eat it.
The ice cream was loaded with toppings to boot, as if it wasn’t a bad enough calorie bomb on it’s own. Whipped cream made the hill of ice cream look more like a mountain with a peak. The tip was covered with chocolate sauce from top to bottom, spiraling down along the side of Mount Whipped Cream, loaded with sprinkles and other assorted bits of candy here and there. Splotches had caramel and even marshmallow topping, too, in assorted places, as if playing to the preferences of the ponies around.
The first bite was overwhelming. It was cloying, but the flavor still managed to come out heavy enough that it was delicious. Creamy and gooey in all the right ways, it was as if it were magical instead of real. It was a dream. The only place something so good could exist was in a fantasy realm, and Shooting couldn’t believe she was actually here.
Absorbed, she lost track of the other ponies in the room. She was certain that they were there, she could hear the chatter of them talking, but her attention was lost on the total delight in front of her. She almost thought she’d died and ascended to somewhere that the Gods of ice cream were residing.
She ate with no regard for anything whatsoever. The fact her armor barely fit, the fact she’d already been up twenty-five pounds since she was sealed into this place, the fact she’d already eaten breakfast - nothing mattered. Just the wonderful, overwhelming flavor of vanilla. That amazing vanilla, that rolled across the tongue like it was nothing. That went down her throat like she were starving.
The feeling of her full stomach against her thighs was lost on her, the tightening strap higher up on her barrel around that armor being ignored as she simply ate. A veil was pulled over her eyes, but she didn’t care as long as she made sure that delicious flavor made kept entering her mouth, and she wasn’t going to stop for anything. She took bite after bite, stepping forward to make sure the literal pile of ice cream was never more than an inch or two away from her mouth.
She was full, but it didn’t matter. She needed this. Even as her stomach protested and gurgled with how stuffed it was, she kept eating. This wasn’t about hunger, and hadn’t been from the start. This was about how amazing it was. The chatter in the rest of the room died down, replaced with gurgles and groans, but it mattered little what their issue was.
To her left, one of the other mares collapsed in a groaning pile of gluttony, but she kept on eating. The strap a little higher on her barrel popped loose, the armor vest hanging on just by one strap around her chest, leaving her stomach exposed. A wedge shaped gap in the sides exposed more of her gray belly, the two halves of her armor racing to split apart as she gorged herself.
The faint echoes of pain bit at her gut as she swallowed more and more of the ice cream, but it mattered not. It was bliss to eat like this, spreading her back legs slightly to accommodate her swelling stomach as it bulged outward, the taut flesh surrounding it stretching to hold what must have been well over a gallon of thick, heavy ice cream on top of her breakfast. The cold slowed her down, even her mind ticking slower as her body struggled to not only contain her binge, but to digest it as well, beginning with warming it up.
A shudder rolled through her as she took another few bites. It was dull, the pain in her stomach, but she knew it was growing more intense even as her vision began to fade, the corners of her eyes turning black as her vision collapsed in on itself. A faint ripple rolled up from her throat, letting out a rumbling burp before she swallowed another bite of ice cream. And another, and another, and before long Shooting was lost in the dessert desert, mind going blank.
Author's Note
The following characters were generously offered up for me to use by fans:
Jinxabelle by Anonymous
