Applesnack

by Liquid Savage

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Slice of Life, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3439

A large influx of apples is about to go rotten, and Applejack has a plan to deal with it. (Weight Gain)

Winter is near, and the Apple family has been left with a huge collection of apples, pies, fritters, cider and all sorts that haven't been sold or dealt with. And it's all about to go bad.

Applejack won't stand for that, so she's determined to find a way to make use of all her hard work...

Another WG story I wrote a good while ago, this time of apple horse. Enjoy!

Published 2016-09-21 18:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-09-21 18:20:01 UTC

Bite Some Apples!

On a normal sunny day, the expansive collection of tall trees populating the orchard of Sweet Apple Acres would be abundant with healthy green leaves and ripe juicy apples, the family trade if you couldn’t tell from the farm’s name. But today, being just a few days after Hearth’s Warming and Equestria still deep in winter, the grass was coated in a thick blanket of snow, and the trees were naught but trunks and branches with no apples in sight.

Applejack, head farmhand and Element of Honesty, glanced down at the rather disheartening sight from the sloped dirt path. The orange-coated earth pony wore a padded red plaid jacket to protect herself from the chill, since her trademark stetson hat only had her ponytailed blonde mane covered. She had quite mixed feelings about the bare trees; it was a little sad to see her beloved orchard this way, but with no apples to harvest and lowered demand of apples from nearby Ponyville, she had been enjoying her time off. Rather much so, from the look of her.

Applejack was naturally a big eater, and quite on the chubby side, but all her work bucking apple trees and tending to the farm kept her size somewhat in check. The holidays had made the farm mare gain quite a round paunch between her legs, as well as quite the backside.

Years of bucking apples off trees built up the muscle in her hindlegs, developing quite an impressive pear shape with her toned round flanks sporting her apple cutie mark making heads turn wherever she went. She was considered quite the southern belle by stallions and mares alike.

“Mighty sad t’see the ol’ place this way,” she muttered to herself, a slight frown on her rounded face, “Ah know it’ll come back in spring, but still pretty hard t’watch.”

The pear-shaped pony about-faced and crunched the snow beneath her hooves as she walked slowly back to the farmyard, her bountiful booty bouncing side to side in her gait. A particularly cold breeze blew into her as she entered the courtyard, causing her to shiver and send a rippling jiggle through her blubber.

“Brrr, colder than a penguin’s pyjamas today,” she shuddered, using one of her many colourful colloquialisms, “hope the barn’s a lil’ warm at least.”

Crossing the snow covered courtyard, a grin crept on Applejack’s freckled face as she spotted a familiar pony coming out of the barn; Big Macintosh, a huge muscular earth stallion with a red coat and ginger mane, wearing a blue plaid shirt beneath his large horse collar.

“Howdy Big Mac,” Applejack greeted, looking up to face her older brother, “checkin’ out the supplies?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded, as laconic as ever.

“How’re they all lookin’?” she enquired, a hopeful grin on her face, “still mighty nice Ah reckon!”

Big Mac slowly shook his head. “Nope.”

“‘Nope’?” Applejack cocked an eyebrow, grin falling into a frown, “What’s wrong with ‘em?” She trotted up to the barn door, surprisingly easy with her muscles carrying all that flab, and pushed it open with a hoof.

The Apples are quite thoughtful when it comes to their trade; with the lowering demand of apples over winter, they decided to keep their last bountiful harvest and stockpile it in the barn until after the Winter Wrap-Up. The only problem was, since it was getting colder and the trees were close to ending for winter, the apples weren’t exactly as healthy as usual, but still quite healthy.

Applejack turned on the light inside the barn, revealing bushels filled with small mountains of apples of all colours and types, as well as buckets of packaged apple desserts like pies and fritters, and barrels of apple cider. Her green eyes widened at the collection, feeling her large appetite wake up.

“‘Bout to go bad,” Big Mac suddenly spoke up, snapping her out of her little trance, “Reckon we got a good few days on ‘em.”

That worried the young mare. She’d never had a single apple go bad before. “Can’t we make ‘em into fritters or somethin’? Get some use outta ‘em while we can?”

“Nope,” the large stallion shook his head again, “Too many of ‘em. Gonna wait fer Granny Smith to think of somethin’.”

Applejack frowned, not liking the idea. These apples only had a few days left, and there were so many of them! But nonetheless, she nodded, deciding her grandmother and matriarch of Sweet Apple Acres would have the best idea for what to do despite her eccentricity. “Alrighty then.”

The two left the barn and headed for the warmth of the farmhouse, Applejack taking one last longing glance at the abundance of apples before closing the barn door.

Applejack spend the rest of the day feeling troubled about that huge collection of apples in the barn, walking around Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville with a contemplative look on her face. She’d even consulted her friends on what to do with the matter when they met up that day, and their answers were rather unanimous.

“Go ahead and chow down,” Rainbow Dash had smirked, “they’ll all grow back anyways, right?”

“Yeah, eat ‘em up Applejack!” Pinkie Pie had squealed gleefully, “Those pies and fritters sound yummy!”

“I concur, darling,” Rarity had smiled warmly, “you work so hard all year round, you deserve a little treat, hm?”

“W-well, I personally think you should go for it,” Fluttershy had near-whispered, her grinning face rather red, “M-make sure you don’t miss a single crumb or drop! ...um, s-so there’s no mess…?”

“Honestly Applejack, you should go with what you think is right,” Twilight had nodded sagely, trying to keep a neutral stance, “but if you feel you should eat them, then do that! They’ll grow back in the spring, so no real loss, right?”

That night, Applejack tossed and turned in her bed, the wooden frame creaking beneath her bulk, wide awake with her friends’ words floating around in her head. Her head was saying to wait for Granny Smith to decide on an answer, she usually had good ideas about situations like this. Her stomach then almost roared in objection, saying that would take too long, and she should take the chance to enjoy herself as soon as possible. Plus Dash and Twilight were right; the trees weren’t dead, they’d simply regrow apples in the spring.

The massive mare rolled onto her back, rubbing a thick hoof on her middle. “Couldn’t do any harm if Ah had a lil’ midnight snack, right?” She muttered to herself, licking her lips, “Besides, not like anypony told me not to eat ‘em…

“...ah what the hay!” She grinned, reversing off her bed and beginning a slow sneak out of her room, grabbing her hat and jacket on the way out. Due to her mass collection of muscle and adipose, she wasn’t exactly built for stealth, so it was sheer luck that allowed her to essentially stomp on the wooden floors and down the stairs of the farmhouse.

A cold breeze hit the flabby farm-girl as she opened the front door, her round rump jiggling once again from her shivering. Carefully closing the door behind her, she slowly crunched through the snowy courtyard, feeling her heart flutter with excitement as she neared the barn.

Opening the large wooden door as quietly as she possibly could, she poked her head inside, followed by a hoof to switch on the lights. The lights on the rafters flickered to life, illuminating the barn and Applejack’s much awaited prize inside; bushels of apples, buckets of apple desserts, and barrels of apple cider piled up on the floor surrounded by stacks of hay.

The blubbery big eater’s freckled face broke into a huge grin, licking her moistening lips as her stomach let out a growl of anticipation. She put a hoof to it, feeling it squish into her fat.
“Sweet mother ‘a molasses,” she drooled, lumbering up to the bushel of apples right before her hooves, “well, this’ll save Granny a job in the mornin’!”

She plopped her oversized rump down on the ground and grabbed an apple between her teeth, holding it in her hooves as she started crunching it up. The sweet juicy fruit almost sent her into a euphoria, making her moan contently as she finished it up and tossed the core over her shoulder and grab another. Rinse and repeat.

The more the bushel emptied, the more Applejack wanted, like as if every apple made her a little bit hungrier and wanting for more. And she was more than happy to fill that need. As the last core was tossed aside, she nudged the empty bucket away and stared longingly at the barnful of natural treats just for her.

As each little collection of apples was depleted, the sheer consumption was taking its toll on Applejack’s body. The fruits’ juicy sweetness combined with their many types and flavours resulted in a great intake of calories, which worked through her body faster than normal. Her round middle distended, bulging against her legs as it filled up.

With the last core added to the mountain of depleted apples and bushels near the barn door, Applejack sat back to give her jaws a quick break. Her stomach had ballooned to the point where it nearly reached the ground, its new layers of blubber pushing against her thickened legs. Her upper forelegs sported the beginnings of a new roll of flab, while her hindlegs were simply a pair of dimpled thunder thighs with her cutie mark stretched out in an attempt to cover it. Her rump was more like a pair of prize-winning pumpkins, which spread out on the ground when she sat. Her chubby cheeks threatened to invade her peripheral vision, while a double-chin proudly showed itself beneath her rounder face. Her jacket had become much tighter, the sleeves beginning to develop signs of ripped and torn seams.

And with only one third of the barn floor cleared, she was far from done.

“Phew, that was a mighty fine appetiser,” she chuckled, licking apple residue off her lips before rolling onto her hooves, “Ah think it’s time fer the main course!”

A plethora of buckets were her next obstacle, all of them housing many packages of apple-based desserts, most of them she’d baked herself. Cakes, pies, puddings, cobblers, and her personal favourite, apple fritters.

Not wasting anymore eating time, the hefty young horse waddled toward the baked treats with an eager grin on her rounder face. Being her own taste tester, she knew exactly how good these goods would taste, and she wanted the lot to herself.

“Ah did bake these m’self,” she muttered to herself, tearing open a package of apple pies with her hooves, “why can’t Ah eat ‘em up!”

In an impulse of total greed, she shoved her face into the dessert, her huge backside bouncing side to side in gluttonous bliss as she gobbled it up. The scoop of ice cream on top was the first to go, getting all over her face as she scoffed down the pie without mercy.

A tin was lobbed over the tubby tangerine's shoulder, along with the empty packaging, as she tore into another one with gusto. She was becoming completely lost in her gluttony, not checking for the time or for how full she was, but she figured if it was still dark outside and her belly wasn’t stuffed to the brim then she was far from over. “A healthy appetite makes a healthy pony” was the mantra of the Apple family, majorly for the mares.

Of course these treats packed a lot more calories than single apples, which meant her already fattening body was about to balloon even faster and even bigger. But she hadn’t noticed any growth on her at all; she was far too focused on stuffing her greedy fat face with as much food as she could, which was potentially the entire barn’s worth.

“Mm-mm, Ah never knew -munch- how good a cook -burp!- Ah was~!” She chuckled aloud, knowing she was all alone and free to be as gluttonous and piggish as she could, which was surprisingly quite a lot.

The mountain of apple cores and empty bushels were joined by ripped packages, emptied buckets, and tins all licked clean. The source of this mess, a certain big butted bucker, emptied and discarded one last tin of what once was apple pie, before letting out a loud, rafter-shaking belch.

There was no doubt about it; Applejack had crossed into ‘obese’ territory. Her stomach now pushed mercilessly against her larger legs to demand more space, especially since its arch now reached the barn floor. Her forelegs, now each holding a new complete roll of flab, totally destroyed the sleeves of her jacket and let them simply hang off of her. The buttons of it popped off a good while ago, allowing her orange globe of a middle be free.

Her face was now perfectly round, her chubby cheeks undoubtedly visible when she looked down, and her double chin was almost officially a treble. Crumbs, stains and sauces discoloured the fur around the wobbling work-horse’s mouth and forehooves, too lost in her greed to think about cleaning herself up. Miraculously, her treasured hat was spotless.

The real star of the show was her rear end; her flanks were undeniably wide enough to walk down a street or even through doors a challenge, becoming dimpled and folded landslides of orange blubber with horribly stretched out cutie marks that were almost faded! Though thankfully that would heal in time. Her rump was less the size of a pair of pumpkins and more reaching the size of a carriage, and would no doubt destroy any normal chair or sofa placed beneath it. Her tail was almost comically tiny in comparison to what it was connected to.

“Phew, that was a mighty fine snack,” Applejack grunted, smacking her lips of any residue she could salvage, then eyed up the barrels at the end of the barn, “now Ah just need a lil somethin’ to wash it all down~”

Over a dozen barrels full of apple cider were bunched together to fit going from wall to wall, each one fitted with a tap, with a small stack of pint mugs nearby. She gave a greedy smirk and dragged her overinflated body toward them, her hindlegs finding just moving a rather taxing challenge. By the time she’d reached a barrel, she had to stop and catch her breath for a good minute or so.

“Phew, now Ah’m really workin’ up a thirst,” she panted, wiping a bead of sweat off her brow, then grabbed a mug in her hoof, “Well, bottom’s up!”

Licking her lips, the greedy mare filled the mug up high with the bronze liquid, the froth overflowing the top. The small bubbles tickled at her nose as she tipped the mug and allowed the cider to flow into her mouth. A steady pace of swallowing allowed her to down the entire thing at once!

“Aaaahh!” She exhaled, a loud wet belch escaping her smirk, “Hoowee, no one brews a better cider than the Apple Family, that’s fer sure!”

Many minutes passed, and eventually the keg was depleted of every last drop of cider it had. Applejack tipped the mug over and gently punched at the barrel, rather saddened that both were totally empty. That was, until she realised an entire bounty of the luscious nectar was waiting right for her. Giving a gluttonous chuckle, she staggered over to the closest one and began repeating the process.

Applejack was a rather heavy drinker, able to take a lot more alcohol than other ponies her age, but Apple Family Cider was incredibly potent, with a few pints able to knock out an adult pony. Clearing out an entire barrel got her feeling a buzz, and she had plenty to go through tonight.

Somewhere along the way she’d misplaced her mug somehow and, instead of doing the sensible thing of getting another, said “Ah horseapples!” to it and began emptying the taps into her mouth. Wrapping her lips around the spout or positioning her wide open mouth beneath the stream, as long as she was glugging down every single drop she didn’t care how she did it.

And of course, once again, her sheer greed was taking its toll on her. Her stomach expanded down and out, sloshing and bubbling with all the carbonated cider being poured into it. Her face gained a little drunken blush, with her round cheeks bulging from the bronze nectar before she swallowed it whole. It was a miracle none of her family was woken up, from the sheer cacophony of slurping, hiccuping and belching that rattled the barn up to the ceiling.

And she was still far from done with her drinking.

Morning eventually came, and with it a rather chilly but pleasant clear sky. Big Macintosh was already up and at it, taking care of the early day routine while Granny Smith enjoyed a nice lay in and Apple Bloom, the youngest of the Apple siblings, had a rather sizeable breakfast. The cream-coated redhead filly shared her older sister’s appetite, but not her sheer strength, so her calories gave her a round, rolly little barrel-like shape.

Wrapping a little red scarf around her neck, she took a step out into the snowy courtyard and sent a jiggly cascade through her flabby body as she shuddered from the cold. As she waddled by the barn, she gave it a curious look. She knew what was inside, and a little greedy urge inside her told her to at least take a peek. Maybe she could swipe a few snacks if she was careful.

However, as she approached the barn, she could hear an outright terrifying sound coming from inside, like a very displeased manticore. Apple Bloom was taken aback slightly, but she swallowed her fear and trotted for the door.

What she wasn’t prepared for though, was what she found when she peered inside.

What was once a sizeable collection of delicious juicy apples and treats was now an absolute mess of cores, ripped up packaging, empty tins and overturned buckets and barrels. And in the centre of it all was an absolute tangerine giant of a pony, sitting back against a stack of empty barrels with her hat over her eyes and snoring up a storm.

Applejack’s stomach had undoubtedly outgrown her legs, which would make movement difficult for her if not outright impossible. It was a perfectly round globe of fur and flab, sloshing and gurgling as it worked on the gallons of cider packed inside it. Her forehooves were dangerously close to being sucked into the huge rolls dominating her legs, which both rested against another stack of empty barrels.

Her hindlegs were pony-sized slabs of flesh, forced outward by her expansive middle, and her cutie marks nearly transparent from their terribly rapid stretching, though that would fortunately heal over time. Her rump had gone from the size of one carriage to the size of a pair of them, large and plushy enough for its owner to use as her own chair with her hindhooves hanging in the air.

It was hard to see beneath her hat, but her cheeks were the size of soccer balls, totally invading her peripheral vision, and her treble chin squished up beneath her face. Her face was an absolute mess, the orange fur caked and discoloured with apple remains, icing, crumbs and cider stains. The sheer amount of fat accumulated around her neck deepened her voice and gave it more of a baritone, making her snores rather thunderous.

Apple Bloom carefully approached her literal big sister, giving her an experimental poke on the belly with a hoof. An oceanic ripple spread through the orange adipose, sloshing with cider and jiggling for a good few seconds before finally settling. Applejack herself didn’t even stir, she was so far out of it.

“Wow,” the filly muttered, walking to her sister’s side and poking at her some more, “Ah knew Applejack had a big appetite but this is kinda pushin’ it.”

The barn door creaked open fully and Apple Bloom turned to see the large silhouette of Big Macintosh. The dominating stallion slowly walked inside, taking in the state of what used to be the Apple Family’s winter stock.

“Uh, Ah think we found a solution,” Apple Bloom mumbled, jostling her sister’s globular stomach with a pat.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac nodded, just as dumbfounded.