Empty Calories, or Why Being Drunk Is a Bad Thing
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Empty Calories, or Why Being Drunk Is a Bad Thing
"Don't, don't you think y'all've had enough...?"
Applejack frowned worriedly at the customer of her cider stand, her brow furrowed as she saw the mare greedily finishing off what must've been her 10th glass of the stuff. The mare lowered the glass and licked her lips lazily, belching.
"'Nuff? Hrrf, nevah 'nuff..." she slurred, drunken.
The mare in question, was Berry Punch; plum coated, purple maned, fandango eyed earth pony with a cutie mark the shape of some grapes and a strawbery. The local brewer pony who specialised in, well, punch! But she also did wines and other alcoholic drinks. And of course, alcohol was her major weakness. Now, Berry Punch was far from a nasty drunk; she was quite friendly and soft when liquored up, but, she failed to notice a key thing with alcohol:
Its full of empty calories.
Applejack had warned her repeat customer time and again that while yes most Ponyville ponies loved a tipple every other day, most of them had day jobs that required some form of exercise to keep their weight at a manageable level. But Berry Punch's job was fairly sedentary; she merely sat around, tended to her fruits and stills and waited for her brews to mature enough to be of commercial (or personal use) value, which did not help her keep her weight manageable at all.
Berry Punch was once of perfectly average build, not too thick and not too thin, but months of sampling the Apple Family's famous ciders, after working out a deal with the clan to supply them with any additional excess apples she herself grew for brewing her own cider, had wrecked havoc on her figure: Her belly was a large purple paunch that sagged down, easily almost reaching her knees and bulging out of the sides of her legs like a cushion being squeezed. Her flanks were thick and jutted out a lot, cutie marks suffering from stretching to match their swollen size. Her chest had a soft layer of fat to it, forming into an additional roll of neck that in turn formed into an extra chin just under her snout. In short, Berry Punch was fat.
"Ah keep warnin' y'all, if'n ya keep drinkin' cider an' wine an' Celestia knows what else without at least stayin' active, yer gonna end up like a big barrel o' the stuff!" Applejack snorted, trying to get some sense into the intoxicated mare.
"Baaaahhh, I gerranuff exermirising!" Berry Punch slurred, with a hiccup that sent her fat sloshing. "Youneed exermirising!"
Applejack rolled her eyes, it was no use arguing with her. A thick, soupy gurgle emanated from the tipsy mare, signalling her need to eat, and she clumsily put a bag of bits down onto the kiosk's counter, smiling vacantly. The stand did sell apple pies and other such goods in addition to the alcohol, after all.
"Okay, y'all can have a pie, but then you's done alright sugarcube? Y'all drink anymore and yer liable to pop like a water balloon!" Applejack joked, as she pushed the freshly baked pie over to Berry, who snatched and proceeded to messily devour it like a pig.
"Delishush!" she giggled, pie filling all over her snout and double chin, "Ish dish the only one?" her stomach grumbled again, the numbed, insatiable belly of the drunk knowing not when to stop.
"Ah did say..." Applejack chided, attempting to keep the rest of the pies away from the gluttonous mare. To no avail, unfortunately.
"Jusht one more? I'm hungry!" the drunk mare pleased, putting on her best puppy dog face, one covered in pie and cider stains.
"Alright, y'all can have another-"
"No!" Berry Punch barked, her fat jiggling, "Gimme all'a 'em!"
The orange earth pony raised an eyebrow in bemusement, "*All* of 'em? Sugarcube y'all've had quite enough now!"
Berry Punch slammed another pouch of bits onto the counter, a bigger bag, with many more bits. Applejack bit her lip and considered it: Give this drunken waste of a pony her food? Or Shoo her off to princesses knows where? She ended up deciding on option A, and slid over pie after pie towards her, until the purple earth pony was staring down 20 of the Apple clan's finest apple pies.
"Thanksh...!" she drunkenly purred, eyeing the baked goods with the ravenous glee of a starved dog.
Before the farmer could respond, the sloshed mare set about devouring her newly acquired food right there and then, messily ramming her face into each pie individually, loud slurping, chomping and gulping sounds erupting from the punctured pastries. Applejack watched in amusement and mild concern as the gurgling, churning plum tum of her customer began to further distend in her gluttony, stretching further and further towards the ground.
5 pies...10 pies...20...50... Applejack gulped at the display of stomach capacity this alcoholic pony was displaying, it was downright frightening, impressive, but frightening.
With a belch loud and strong enough to startle an ursa major, Berry Punch practically rolled onto her back, her vastly swollen stomach sloshing and roiling like an overfilled barrel. Her forelegs feebly rubbed against the taut surface, faint, quiet gurgles escaping it due to the pressure within, a look of blissful, ignorant contentment plastered onto her features.
"Alright, *now* y'all have had enough..." she chuckled.
Berry Punch was already asleep, her only answer was a groaning, rumbling belch, and rolling onto her side with a sound not unlike a bathtub's water being displaced from one side of the tub to the other. The movement caused the humongous barrel to visibly wobble despite its obvious, intense fullness, which simply caused even more tumultuous gurgles and groans from within its pie and cider stuffed swell. A snore from Berry Punch was again punctuated by a rattling burp, before the mare smacked her lips and settled again, totally listless and comatose in her glut induced slumber.
"Guess y'all really are a bit of a fruitcake when yer drunk..." the Apple pony said aloud, poking her hooves into the mare in an attempt to roll her away.
Author's Note
My first story on this site, not my best, but I hope its a nice taster of things to come haha, hope you all like it! (Or at least tolerate it >W>)