Icing on Top

by Megapone

Rating: mature
Tags: Anthro, Slice of Life
Length: 6578

To stop Twilight from worrying about her overeating, Pinkie asks Discord for a spell that will help with her diet. Discord himself is happy to help. His assistance, however, might decrease Pinkie's appetite less than it increases her curves...

To stop Twilight from worrying about her overeating, Pinkie asks Discord for a spell that will help with her diet. Discord himself is happy to help. His assistance, however, might decrease Pinkie's appetite less than it increases her curves…

Contains: Stuffing, amazon/mini-giantess+growth, and big breasts/thighs/ass.

A commission for Borealium. Coverart by somescrub. Edited by Troublesome Beast.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-04 00:40:01 UTC

Icing on Top

Pinkie ducked her head around and peeked in through the window of Fluttershy's cottage. She couldn't see anypony—not even Angel's cute little tail was visible in the living room! Aww. Nobody to wave to. Her lips curled downwards and her eyes watered lightly.  No!  Nothing to do but charge in, Pinkamena Diane! Huffing and wriggling her whole body—toes to feet to legs to hips; tail to waist—all the way up and out through the arms and mane, she lifted a fist to the door, planted a broad sunbeam-y smile on her face, and rocked forward onto the balls of her feet.

"Nopony's home, I'm afraid."

Pinkie spun around twice and a bit, ending up looking behind her. "Discord?" she said. "Are you there?"

But there was noooooobody there! Blinking, Pinkie frowned, her head tilting to the side, eyes widening.

A sudden, familiar presence beside her left shoulder derailed her train of thought. "Actually," came Discord's smug voice again, taunting, ethereal, "I'm over...here!"

Pinkie glanced down—and found a draconequus head staring smugly up at her from where it had replaced the cottage's doorknob. With a start, she sprung away—and then doubled over, giggling with abandon.

"An old introduction," Discord said, squeezing the rest of his body out of the keyhole. He plopped onto the ground—if the "ground" could be said to lie three feet into the air—and dusted himself off. A musty brown cap popped into existence between his claws, and he slung it onto his head, shooting Pinkie a wink. "But a classic one. Good afternoon, Miss Pie. Might I be able to assist you on Fluttershy's behalf?"

"I was looking for you, silly!" she said. She stood straight up and grinned, a gleeful beam that may or may not have caused Discord's various hides to begin tanning.

"Little old me? My goodness, Pinkie Pie—I'm quite flattered." Discord's serpentine form darted into a u-shape, one of his clawed hands coming up to wipe tenderly at his brow. Shooting her a sideways smirk, he raised an eyebrow and said, "The question remains, though—what could I possibly do that your adorable little friends can't?"

"We-e-ell," Pinkie said. She took a breath, and crossed both arms over her chest—where, coincidentally, her forearms happened to push her soft, generous bosom forward. She wasn't nearly as busty as Fluttershy, but years of concentrated snacking had managed to endearingly round out her figure enough that her trapped breasts squished like water balloons against the weight of her jiggly arms, her fingers sinking gently into the chubby flesh of her belly. "Twi-i-ilight said I should come to you for a magic problem!"

"The great and pertinent Twilight Sparkle—and a magic problem that she couldn't solve?" Discord gasped. "I'm intrigued." He snapped his fingers, and instantly reappeared behind Pinkie's shoulder, clad in a checkered overcoat and inspecting her from the other side of a magnifying glass. "Do go on!"

Pinkie giggled, and batted the magnifying glass away with a bemused flail. "Well," she said again, drawing the word out further—"Twilight and Applejack said they thought I'd been eating too much, and Dashie said I was looking kind of chubby, and Rarity got really mad after I ate her whole plate of little Prench cakes, so Twilight said that I shouldn't be eating so much, and then I said I really really liked eating, and then Rarity said that it might be dangerous, and Dashie said Twi should know a spell to help with it. But Twilight didn't, and she said something about not messing with pony biology besides, so she said maybe I should just check with you to see if you could help!" She finished with a clap of her hands to her well-rounded thighs, and beamed sunnily up at the draconequus above her.

"Goodness me," Discord said. "You do have a set of lungs on you, don't you? And hm..."

In a poof of smoke, he vanished—only to reappear with his body wound between and around Pinkie's generous cleavage, measuring ticks appearing on his scales. "Yes," he said, "I may be able to help you. It would take but a simple, ordinary bit of chaos magic."

"Ooh," Pinkie said. She wiggled happily, shaking Discord around and making her hips and hind end bounce in time with the front. "What can you do?" Her eyes were wide, and it looked like she was about to start a non-stop stream of ideas before Discord derailed that train as well.

"You like to... eat, you said?" Discord curled his body comfortably around Pinkie's breasts, and laid his head tenderly atop her pillowlike bosom with a comfortable sigh. He stuck both clawed hands behind his head and lounged, as if sunbathing. "What if I told you that I could let you eat all you wanted, Miss Pie?"

"I'd say—" Pinkie gasped, and Discord got the vibro-massage treatment again. "I'd say that sounded super-duper awesome with two cherries on top!"

Discord smiled deeply. "Excellent," he said. "Now, just hold still."

Pinkie held her breath.

"You may feel a slight pinch.*" Discord snapped his fingers.

Unnoticed by Pinkie, who didn't speak wingdings, the asterisk was duplicated on a small note card held up by a smaller clone of Discord, along with the long, scrolling list of disclaimers including: "...Discord, Unincorporated, does not aver, affirm, swear, or bother with any similar sort of promises, statements, or implications of accuracy, except where it would be funny.  Discord, unlimited libelous, notes that certain machinery, structures, or small civilizations should be avoided while under the influence of Chaos Magic. Discord is not to be held responsible if ingestion contains side effects for other people…”

Sugarcube Corner was oddly quiet at night.

Pinkie frowned thoughtfully to herself as she slipped out of her bedroom door, the hard wood floor creaking beneath her bare toes. She pressed her hand lightly over her soft tummy, willing it not to gurgle. A sliver of gold light peeked out through the open door behind her, though that narrowed as the door drifted slowly back into place. She got up on tip-toe, taking care not to put too much weight on the squeaky floorboard at the top of the stairs. Curling one hand around the banister, she glanced over at the Cakes' bedroom door. Still dark. Good.

It wasn't that she expected it to be loud, she thought, as she tip-toed her way down the steps. It was just that Sugarcube Corner had always been a place of joy to her, full of laughter, singing, and—of course—endless munching and crunching. Having the silence at night was always nice, of course, but she could never help but feel slightly empty inside of it, which didn't help when she was feeling empty inside.

Despite her prior efforts at soothing, her tummy growled halfway down the steps, and Pinkie paused, taking a moment to pat it gently. A grin that almost lit up the whole house tugged at her muzzle as her fingers sunk into her chubby gut, soft, doughy flesh molding to her touch. "It's okay," she whispered, as if to a fellow conspirator. "I'll feed you real soon." Her stomach grumbled impatiently in response, and she had to stifle a giggle.

A pilgrimage down to the dark, empty bakery was a tradition for her at this point. Twilight laid the blame for her diet at one (or two, or three) too many midnight snacks, and Pinkie could admit that that was likely where it'd begun. Not to mention eleven PM and 1 AM snacks and… Still, Discord had said that his spell would help with her eating habits, and she was awfully hungry besides. Her tummy growled much louder as her foot touched down on the last step, and Pinkie tapped it with a knowing finger. She was hungry tonight—ravenous, even. Such a fun word. It wasn't like she was about to eat any ravens, though. She liked 'em, all smart and clever, and pranksters like Dashie!  Or her!

Those cupcakes left out on the counter, though…

The soft hum of the new refrigerator greeted Pinkie as she swept its door open, the dim golden glow of its inner light glancing over her face and sending a sliver of illumination into the dark kitchen. She bent over, and—it was almost a shame that there wasn't an audience—gave the classic Pinkie Pie Wriggle-Bye Thinking Hip Shake. She'd been halfway through the bakery when she'd realized that she felt extra hungry tonight, and that even if she wanted to have those cupcakes—and she was somehow sure, with her loudly-rumbling tummy, that she'd polish them all off—it'd be best to have a proper meal first. This was logical, and Twilight had gone on for ever so long about proper nutrition, and balancing sweets with non-carbon hydration, and things like that—she wasn't really sure, per se, but the point was…

Right, a meal, then all the cupcakes. Pinkie felt another rumbling in her belly as she eyed the gleaming innards of the Cakes' well-stocked fridge, her midsection feeling almost achingly empty.

She rubbed it absentmindedly as she ogled the food within, talented fingers grasping at squishy, chubby belly-fat. She wasn't out-and-out round, but she was a fairly big girl, built with a bouncing, bubbly bust and squeezable, thick-enough curves to catch any mare-appreciating eye in their event horizon. That made for a whole lot of mare to feed, and, as Pinkie's sinuously swelling rump had shown as it'd begun to poke out over the backs of her shorts over the past few months, she had no issue with making even more of herself to share.

The offers along those lines had been flattering, if not flattening.

Especially now that Discord's sweet-saving spell was helping her, she thought, shivering happily. It took Pinkie another few foal-in-the-candy-factory moments to decide what to grab out of the fridge—which her aching, empty belly told her should be "everything."

The hefty pile of luscious leftovers hit the kitchen counter with a soft thwump of weight. Pinkie licked her chops, already salivating as the aroma of day-old hayburgers mixed with the sweet scent of daisy-topped pizza. With extra cheese, she thought with a little extra mouth-watering. Unwilling to wait even a single empty moment longer, she unwrapped her feast and went straight to work on getting filled.

"Mmmm." Pinkie moaned happily around a mouthful of hayburger, her chubby cheeks stuffed full of delicious, home-cooked food. Mrs. Cake really knew how to make 'em. Slurping down the food, savoring it as it hit her tongue and then made her throat feel so good—like promises to her tummy! Her appetite invigorating her with energy, she swallowed her first heaping bite before stuffing the rest of the hayburger past her plump, full lips, her toes curling delightedly as she felt her tastebuds soar with pleasure. She kissed the air lightly afterwards and ran her fingers up and down her sides, shimmying her bodacious butt over the seat cushion.  "Ohhh… so good!"  Feeling it hit her tummy and bounce, she just had to spread her thick, lickable thighs out as wide as her hips would allow!

She'd always been a bigger filly, but it had only been recently that she'd discovered just how much she loved food. Pinkie Pie had been a baker since she'd gotten her Cutie Mark, but the recent adventurous spirit of Mrs. Cake's dishes had given the plump pink mare a true zeal for tasting the finer flavors of life. Her poor tummy gurgled happily, like a cream-fed kitten, welcoming each scrumptious calorie as they plopped down into her gut.

Pinkie smacked her lips appreciatively, her muzzle puckering around a finger as she sucked it dry of ketchup, then pulled it out with a loud, lusty pop! Once she’d swallowed her final bite of hayburger, she looked down and found her once-proud feast to be bare of anything but crumbs.

Giggling to herself, Pinkie gave her big belly a pat; by now, she looked quite bloated, with a potbelly hanging a few inches over her waist. A full week’s worth of leftovers would do that to a filly, she guessed with another giggle.  She closed her thighs back up, feeling the plumpness above press and grind softly against the plumpness below, the sensitive, stuffed flesh tingling with the light friction—all of the friction.

“Guess you were hungry, huh?” she asked her gut playfully. It gurgled in response, and she smirked down at it, licking her ketchup-stained lips. “And you still are? Well, then—looks like we’d better keep feeding you, mister hungry-wungry.”

A thin line of drool slipped down her chin as Pinkie moved to the cupcake display on the front counter. A soft "Ahhh," escaped her lips, a tear forming in the corner of one eye as she opened her mouth wide, barely remembering to use her long, dextrous tongue to catch the drool before it could escape.  Chocolate, strawberry, marble, marzipan—there was almost too much to choose from! Her naughty stomach grumbled, demanding voraciously to be fed, and her eager grin widened. It was a good thing she didn't have to choose!  She could take it all in.

With gleeful gusto, Pinkie swept the first cupcake straight up to her maw—a vanilla one, with cream-cheese frosting—and devoured half in a single bite. With frosting flecking her lips, she moaned softly, happily gulping down her sweet treat as the sugar excited her tastebuds. Her thick tongue made a complete circuit of her lips, all but hanging out and panting at just how good the frosting was. Bright pink hair standing perkier, Pinkie Pie gave into her insatiable appetite a second time, sweeping up cupcake after cupcake as fast as she could gulp and swallow them down.

Her belly, though, wasn't growing any larger as she ate. If anything, the size of it had gone down, her tummy flattening and tautening as it digested her earlier feast. Gurgles and groans of satisfaction echoed in the quiet kitchen, hidden only by Pinkie's delighted chewing and moans, but it was working on more than just an internal level. Her sugar levels weren't the only things popping up.

Slowly, without much fanfare, Pinkie Pie had begun to swell and grow. It went to her already prodigious, well-favored rump first, both cheeks rounding out nicely as they padded out her pajamas’ pants even more. An abundance of beautiful booty-flesh peeked out happily over the waistband, Pinkie's big, plump flanks growing thicker with each cupcake she swallowed. Her magnificent breasts, too, began to press heavier against her chest, their mass slowly swelling from a double-D cup to an E. Her already luxurious thighs and sweet, huggable hips thickened in turn, the chubby filly's thigh gap dying with a soft whimper.

Her curves, however, weren't the only thing that was growing. The bakery floorboards groaned under Pinkie's weight as the voluptuous mare herself, bite by bite, calorie by calorie, began to grow. Her poor pajama pants creaked as her hips spread further apart, her shirt riding up as she put on one, two, three inches of height. Once a power-packed five-foot-six, Pinkie’s body was fast approaching six feet and speeding up with each baked good she lovingly devoured.

Though she didn’t notice it, her coat shimmered with a faint, pink glow: chaos magic, tiny sparks of energy leaping across her body as Discord’s power went to work. He’d helped her with her weight gain problem, it seemed. Just not quite in the way that Twilight had actually wanted.

Rubbing her slightly slimming belly, Pinkie plucked herself from her food-powered reverie when she noticed her fingers sinking less into chub. “Huh,” she mumbled, blinking down at her flatter tummy. She was still pudgy—and liked it that way; being soft made for great hugs!—but was certainly much less bloated but actually more snugglably comfy than she would have expected after cleaning out all of the Cakes’ leftovers and a good three-dozen cupcakes.

Another pony may have been suspicious. But Pinkie was anything but.

“Yes!” she said—then again, more quietly: “Woohoo! Yay, Discord!” Her arms waving happily and monumental rack wobbling, she said the last few words in a low whisper, not wishing to wake the slumbering Cakes up. All the same, a wide, beaming grin lit up her face as she realized, to her amazement, that this meant that she could eat all of the food she wanted.

Her demanding stomach grumbled fiercely again. Get on with it, it seemed to be saying.

Pinkie (carefully) clapped her hands together in front of her jiggling bust with glee. The cakes, somewhat suitably, were the first thing she hit. Birthday, red velvet, chocolate-almond—it was a smorgasbord of delicious goods! Pinkie didn't even miss a beat, though, in scooping out the biggest, fattest looking cake from the display and plopping it right onto the counter. She started with a spoon, shoveling huge mouthfuls of frosting and cake down her gullet with wild abandon, letting the taste tingle over her outstretched, curling tongue. As the sugar from the cupcakes started surging in her system, though, she abandoned all semblance of propriety and started grabbing handfuls of rich, creamy frosting, shoveling it right into her muzzle as her chubby cheeks bulged with flaky, warm crumbs, only to hollow as she sucked it all down good and proper.

Pinkie's long tongue wiggled delightedly in her mouth as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of sweet cake. The chaos magic sizzling in her body seemed to be enjoying itself too—by the time she finished the first cake, it was all but sparking with magical potential. Up and up Pinkie's frame soared, passing six feet even and reaching six and a half by the end of the second cake. Thick thighs rippled and bulged, corded quads pushing past the plush now, her poor top straining to hold in her copious cleavage's calamitous expansion as what looked like pints of supple breast-flesh spilled forth from her chest. Pinkie's tight pajama pants creaked around her fat booty with each pound she put on, each calorie of gluttony going straight to her curves instead of her waistline.  Curve conversion was so effective that the growth seemed to be causing a jiggle, just on its own!

Cakes were far from the only thing to sample in the bakery, though, and Pinkie had a sweet tooth for each and every one. Pies and pastries, cremes and eclairs, entire bowls of decorative sprinkles—she poured them all down her throat, slurping up cupfuls of sweet, fruity syrup as whipped cream and chocolate mousse flecked her lips and cheeks, drool trails followed by the urgent swipe of her tongue to desperately try to avoid wasting a single drop. Tens of thousands of calories vanished into her eager maw, her belly rounding out, and then deflating as Discord's magic went to work, converting each bite of food into a bigger, curvier Pinkie Pie.

Her gorgeously round ass was enormous now, sticking far out past her back and rolling gently over the tops of her thighs. Each little twitch of her hungering body sent her asscheeks bouncing and slapping together, the motion echoed as her boobs swelled past an F-cup, then a G. For a moment, she was tall enough to look eye-to-eye with even Big Macintosh...and then she swelled, surpassing his height with barely a tremor of effort.

Up and out her body expanded, sucking up space almost as hungrily as she was devouring food. Tits the size of large and steadily larger melons stretched the fabric of her shirt to the breaking point. Rips and tears opened up all around Pinkie's thighs, oodles of squishy, pink flesh poking through into the warm night air. Had Big Macintosh been standing in front of her then, he’d have been just about eye level with the neckline of her grand, abundant cleavage. But Pinkie didn’t stop there.

Through it all, Pinkie continued to gulp and munch to her heart's content, pausing only for a passionate squeal or a drawn out moan of delight, not even noticing when the top of her head passed the bottom of the ceiling-mounted lamps, catching the light in her wildly froofy mane, her twitching ears fast approaching the ceiling as her eyes passed the seven-foot mark. If only she had remembered to pay attention to the twitchy! The only reason that she didn’t quite brush up against the lamps themselves was that she was hunched over the bakery counter herself, resting on the sensitive cushions of her mega-mams, too busy shoveling increasingly-large handfuls of sweets down her throat to bother to notice her own ballooning size.

Groaning softly to herself, Pinkie finally gulped down the last bite of banana-cream pie and slumped down onto the floor, a shuddering wave of satisfaction pulsing and shivering through her expanded form, her broad back sliding against the wall behind her before her big, bouncy rump collided loudly with the floor. The force of the impact sent her giant, forty-pound breasts jiggling and rubbing against her belly, a sensation which left her giggling wildly—at least until the heavy, hot liquid inside of them made her moan in sudden pleasure.

Pinkie licked her lips, a thoughtful expression coming to her face and bright eyes as she moved her strong hands up around the sensitive curves of her overflowing bust. The entire front of her pajama top had torn completely away beneath the weight of her jumbo-sized knockers, and her big, perky boobs were warm and soft to the touch; yet somehow, each touch was like a jolt of renewed sensation. She groaned gently as her fingers wrapped around an erect nipple and tugged, a stream of moistness covering her hand when she pulled it away.

Her stomach growled again, almost like an appreciative stallion, and Pinkie smacked her lips, realizing, as if for the first time, just how thirsty her gorging had left her. She bit her lower lip, chewing it softly.  Could she…?  "Why not?" she asked with a giggle. "It's the circle of life, right?  The wheel, of, um, fast food?" Hefting up one of her watermelon-sized tits to her face, she took a deep sniff of her broad, leaking nipple and then sighed in aromatic pleasure. Oh, yeah. That was milk alright. She was an expert in these matters.

Too eager to wait, Pinkie found it only a slight inconvenience to shift her prodigious bust so that her thumb-sized nipple was lined up directly with her slobbering muzzle. With barely a moment’s hesitation, she clamped both lips around it and suckled at her own tit, kneading and massaging her own gratuitous boob-flesh as what felt like gallons of milk sloshed and swelled inside of it.  She hollowed her cheeks, and touched the tip of her tongue to right below the stiff nip.

She was rewarded almost instantly for her efforts by a thick spray of hot, filling milk, which Pinkie found herself gulping down with all of the appetite of a toddler. Pint after pint of warm cream gushed down into her greedy gullet as her lips worked around her nipple, tugging this way and that to guzzle down as much of her own delicious produce as she possibly could. One hand went to her reswelling belly, feeling it swell and bloat pleasantly as Pinkie’s growing breast fed whole quarts, then gallons of milk to the suckling amazon, her reservoirs refilling themselves even faster than she could drink them.

But drink she did—and the effects were more than evident. If the Cakes’ delicious pastries had been energizing, Pinkie’s own profligate breastmilk was nothing less than virile. Pinkie’s lips moved with soft squeaks and moans, the insides of her elbows rubbing against her squishy, building bust as she felt herself give into the incandescent pleasure of feeding—and, in turn, give herself over to explosively unstoppable growth.

Her mouth-watering ass spread out beneath her, both lush cheeks pushing against the cold, wooden floor as her thunderously thick thighs rubbed ever-closely together. Her wonderful, invigorating breasts spread out across her lap completely, spilling over the sides as she squeezed and played with the fecund tit latched firmly beneath her mouth. Each gulp of thick, fattening Pinkie-cream left her figure climbing up further and further in height, passing eight feet in size even as her pajamas tore off entirely and came to rest in tatters around her.

Pinkie fuzzily wondered when she'd developed the ability to produce confetti on demand.

With a slow, satisfied sigh, Pinkie finally released her slightly achey, but oh so yummy nipple from her cream-coated mouth and slumped happily against the wall. The plaster creaked ominously beneath her gigantic weight, but otherwise held. Her titanic breasts slid back down to sit happily in her lap, their naked volume spilling over the sides as her belly gurgled with warm milk and sugary treats.

She licked her sweet lips and grinned, moving one hand beneath the newly formed mountain range of her bust to rub her naughty, naughty belly. Droplets of thick, creamy white dribbled from the sides of her mouth, and she licked all of that up with a single twist of her sturdy tongue, swallowing the remnants of her hot liquid meal in one big gulp. Pinkie giggled as she felt her stomach churn, her frame getting larger by the second as her high-calorie dairy lengthened her bones and fattened her already rampant curves.

"De-lish!" she whispered to herself, a smile from ear to ear. She sat there for a moment, enjoying finally feeling full as at least three gallons of warm milk sloshed around in her belly. Her naked toes curled and wiggled in the cooling night air of the bakery, her legs by now long enough to poke up against the side of the counter from the opposite wall. She giggled again and squeezed both long, jiggly legs together, watching in amusement as the thick muscle and fat of her thighs bulged up against her over-spilling bust, pushing both tits further up into the air. Whee, she thought: a meal with a view!

A big, plate-sized hand slid down to her hip, where Pinkie's fingers grasped greedily around her great, chubby rump. "Juicy!" she breathed, her eyes widening. She gave her booty another plump, and shivered happily when tingles of pleasure danced their way up and down her spine. She was so soft—and so sensitive! She ran a trembling fingertip over her cutie mark and let out a groan she couldn't quite soften, her whole body stiffening, save for that acreage where only soft could be found.

It wasn't long at all, though, before, her stomach cleared its contents and loudly demanded more. "Mean," she grumpily whispered at it, and poked herself.  "Hee!"  Unfair; the meanie tummy was ticklish! Blushing at her tummy's rude rumblings, Pinkie unsteadily wobbled to her feet, her midsection still a tad bit bloated from her creamy feeding, as her divinely, nigh celestially giant rump bounced and jiggled above the tattered rags of her too-small pajamas.

A frown touched her face as she surveyed the crumb-ridden remains of the display. There weren't any sweets left to eat! Still... A happy little smile dimpled her cheeks when she remembered one place where she could still find sweet things to eat: the pantry!

Her great, nude form sent tremors through the floor as she walked across the front of the bakery, the floorboards creaking and groaning as the need-driven eight-foot-plus mare sent miniature earthquakes rumbling against the foundations. Her curvy body was more than happy to bounce to the rhythm that her step beat out, her now foal-sized breasts knocking together as her thigh thighs rubbed against one another, her thick, juicy flesh squeezing together around her crotch. Her whole body seemed to be enjoying itself with every motion.  Five-hundred-plus pounds of big, curvy mare, Pinkie Pie had little left in mind other than feeding her hungry, growing body. As she rounded on the tall steel door to the Cakes' pantry, though, the licked her lips, feeling little doubt that the rumblies in her tummy would soon be vanquished for good.

"Come to Auntie Pinkie," she squealed softly. She reached forward toward the handle, having to bend down slightly so the tops of her ears wouldn't brush against the ceiling. The handle stuck fast, eliciting a wobbly-lipped pout—and then it screeched, and moments later squealed metallically as she twisted it out of place, the lock cracking as Pinkie's thick arms flexed with hidden power milked from her rich, calorie-stuffed diet. The miniature giantess had an appetite to satisfy, and she wasn't about to let anything as flimsy as a mere pony-proof lock keep her from satiating herself!

The door shuddered, and then creaked open. Beaming, Pinkie tossed the handle haphazardly onto the floor and then flung the pantry door wide, the soft golden light of the bakery streaming in to illuminate its contents.

Pinkie’s eyes searched hungrily from shelf to shelf, never quite settling on any one of the items held within. As ravenous as she was, it had to be admitted that the Cakes’ pantry didn’t quite hold finished food. Baked goods tended to spoil, after all, and while she was hungry, she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to guzzle down a few dozen gallons of flour.

Yet.

But as her gaze flickered toward the back of the small room, her eyes widened in happy surprise. Of course! The ice-cream machine!

It crouched in the back of the pantry, a half-dozen blocks of metal stacked haphazardly atop one another. At one end, the dispensary; at the other, the storage. Pinkie Pie licked her lips, her tummy rumbling at the sight of it. So much yummy, yummy ice cream just waiting to be devoured—it was practically asking for it! She had much cuter storage in mind for it—her!

And oh, but she was oh so hungry. Another whimpering growl echoed from her plaintive belly, and Pinkie patted it gently, a thin line of drool slipping down her cheek as she stared down at the source of her next meal. She’d had sugar-binges before, but this was nothing like anything she’d ever felt. She didn’t just want sugar: She needed it, and with a burning, fiery inferno of need that she’d never felt before. "Food."

Pinkie could already feel the fireworks of her previous binges going off in her muscles, sparking her every nerve as she twitched and flexed with each twinge of hunger. Thighs the width of small foals squeezed together, and her belly receded into a perfect, stone-cut pair of abs that could have sliced a diamond wide open. For a moment, her biceps flexed, bulging with definition...and then receded, her arms growing thick and pudgy again, the chaotic magic still sparking and fizzing within her.

Pinkie’s body was exploding with energy, surging with heat. Her mind was awash beneath the force of her pure, unending hunger, melting into the need to feed! As she licked her lips and stepped forward, the house shaking beneath her weight, the rest of her massive, nude form swayed and smacked together in a beautifully chaotic cacophony of abundance. For all of her mass, for all of her energy, there were but two things constant that evening about Pinkamena Diane Pie:

She was steadily, but constantly, getting even bigger.

And she was absolutely, utterly ravenous.

Her secondary pie shelves—sorry, hips—brushed up against the sides of the pantry door as she forced her way in, the metal frame squealing in pain as her thick, flared-out hips brushed it aside as easily as it might a few strands of hay. Her breasts did much the same, leaving an hourglass impression in the door behind her. Thick thunder thighs flexed beneath a pair of glorious asscheeks that each could have fit a foal comfortably inside, her voluminous assets bouncing with the happy little stride of her step as she sashayed inside. The not-so-subtle sway of Pinkie’s waist set her heavy girls bouncing as well, her monstrous U-cup boobs squishing against her now-pudgy belly as she ducked low enough to fit inside of the pantry.

A monstrous, roaring gurgle rose up in Pinkie’s stomach as she picked up the nozzle of the ice cream machine. Now. She licked her lips again as she crouched down low enough to raise it to her soft, greedily slurping lips, the long rubber hose bending like cooked spaghetti in her squeezing grip. She touched a finger to the storage container and instantly shivered.

“Ooh,” she squeaked. Pinkie grinned. “Cold!”

She patted her hungering belly. She could already feel the furnaces of her stomach heating up. The ice cream may have been cold...but she was hot enough to vaporize it. Not just smoking, was Pinkie Pie; she was steaming.

The floor shook as she plopped her generous rear end down; sitting on her own plush, it seemed, was the only way she’d be able to fit her exaggerated hourglass nine-foot self into the walk-in pantry comfortably. Even so, her feet stuck just out the door, and her toes wiggled happily atop size-twenty-three feet as Pinkie adjusted her posture just low enough for the nozzle to comfortably reach her mouth.

“Come to Auntie Pinkie!” she squealed—and then squished the nozzle right between her lips, kissing the tip before passing it further in.

A flick of the machine behind her started the process, and a flood of sweet, sticky, creamy ice cream flowed forth. Pinkie’s eyes nearly rolled back in her skull; as it was, her ears perked straight up, twitching madly with pleasure. Her hands moved to her suddenly very happy belly to rub and squeeze it as she felt pint after pint of cold, perfect ice cream gush right into her waiting tummy.

It was so good that she actually moaned. “Mm,” Pinkie murmured, squeezing her once-again bloating gut as she felt the first gallon wash into her. It just wasn't fast enough; Pinkie hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard on the nozzle, adding her own not-inconsiderable suction to the press of the machine. Freezing tendrils of brain freeze prodded against her skull—and then flinched back, fleeing as the furnaces of her belly sparked to life, chowing down on their creamy sustenance and feeding the chaos magic sizzling within her.

Just as Pinkie’s belly had gotten big enough to properly squish, it had, sadly, already begun to go down again, the contents of her tummy converting straight into size, muscle, and chub as the massive giantess’ body went to work on digesting every sugary calorie the nozzle gushed down her throat. Her enormous breasts expanded across her belly even more, sinking further across her lap as each gallon of ice cream past her lips. Pinkie’s big cheeks slowly plumped out, like a chipmunk who’d eaten too much, as she felt the real flood of ice cream begin.

More and more and more—the food never seemed to end. Her whole body felt so strong, felt so powerful, felt so alive. She could feel the sugar hitting her system already, a sugar high so big and dense that it felt like it might never end.

And then the growth started up again. This time, it wasn't just playing around.

An inch per second—two inches per second, with Pinkie’s body getting larger, wider, heavier with each heft of her bust. Each hulp, gulp of ice cream left her curvy legs growing further across the floor, her back pushing up against the shelves behind her as her head inched steadily up into the air. Massive toes wiggled against the cool night air as the size thirty feet beneath them slowly pushed their way across the bakery floor.

Pinkie’s low moans soon ceased being soft; by now, she was groaning and grunting in delight, kneading her heavy, milk-laden breasts around the ice cream nozzle, as if the dozens of gallons of titflesh squeezing it might knead even more of her delicious treat down her throat. She felt another surge of cold spraying the back of her throat and moaned, her every muscle clenching, her arching chest shoving her hundred-pound tits into the air above her.

Her shoulders grew broader; her arms flung out longer. Her frame widened by the second, shelves and floor alike creaking and trembling as they struggled to contain her bulk. Where once she’d struggle to fit into the door, Pinkie now struggled to fit into the pantry at all; as she passed eleven feet in height, the top of her floofy mane began to push against the wooden ceiling. Even sitting down like this, she could have looked down at Mr. Cake without any effort at all. Her lickable flanks provided additional height, blowing up and out with size and plumpness with each gallon of ice cream that she guzzled down.

Pinkie suckled at the nozzle like a foal, enough ice cream to feed two pools’ worth of summer customers gushing down into her furnace belly as her growth pushed her past twelve feet. All around her, the creaks and groans of splintering wood filled the air, her massive, bulky body dominating the space utterly. The floorboards whined; the shelves cracked; the ice cream machine loyally sputtered on.

And then, with a magnificent crash!, the walls around her crumbled.

Pinkie’s head flew back into empty air, her voluminous mane poofing out into the space it had previously been denied. Her enormous breasts, which had been squished against the walls, their fat nipples pushed nearly far enough to poke out of the pantry door, flopped heavily enough onto her lap to shake the floor again. With a final whine, the ice cream machine sputtered a final time, whimpered, and then screeched to a halt. Empty.

Pinkie let the nozzle fall from her lips and groaned in satisfaction. Her hand went to her stuffed belly, and she giggled to herself as she felt the soft squish of her cream-stuffed gut. A belch tore itself from her lips, and she giggled again, louder, as the dust settled around her.

As it did, though, she noticed a dark shape standing in the shadow of where the pantry door had previously been. Two blinks, and the shape resolved itself into several smaller ones: Mr. and Mrs. Cake, foals in hoof, gazing up at her with wide, dilated eyes.

“What’s happening? I came as fast as I could!”

The sharp voice of Twilight Sparkle pierced through the night as the mare herself dashed through the front door. The bakery’s bell rang piercingly, shattering the night’s silence as Twilight skidded across the floor, the circles under her eyes cast into depth by the illumination of her horn. She was breathing heavily, her lovely chest heaving. She also wore a disheveled nightgown, and a nightcap, which was slightly tilted off to one side.

Twilight blinked at the Cakes...and then whirled up to face Pinkie. There was silence for a moment, as Twilight stared dumbly up at her mountain of a friend. Then, as the last of the dust settled around them, Pinkie shyly lifted a plate-sized hand to wave down at her. Though she’d always been the most shameless of her friends, she was suddenly vaguely aware of the fact that her giant, nude body was being presented to both her friend and her caretakers...the latter of which were still trembling like they’d seen a dragon.

“Heya, Twilight,” Pinkie chirped.

Twilight’s mouth worked soundlessly. Finally, sputtering, she managed to choke out, “Pinkie?” She made a faint gurgling sound. “But—how—what—“

Pinkie opened her muzzle to answer—and then paused, thoughtfully, as her stomach gurgled out a challenge to Twilight’s. Something stirred in her gut again, and Pinkie smiled hesitantly down at the trio of gaping ponies beneath her.

“Do you guys know where I could get any more food?” she asked.