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