Evil Expandtress

Twilight flopped to the ground, her brain fogged with dizziness from having rolled so far. She shook her head and, a second later, realized the significance of that: she could move her neck and legs. A quick glance confirmed that Twilight was her normal unicorn self once again, not a water balloon.

She turned forward again, and her snout brushed against something smooth and wet. It was an indigo ball, hanging from a shrub just in front of Twilight. Clusters of similar balls were spread all over the bush—visible in the night, in spite of their dark color, somehow.

As Twilight’s head cleared, she recognized the bush. It was a blueberry plant, but like none she had seen before, with utterly massive berries. The smallest were the size of navel oranges, and the largest rivaled honeydew melons. All of them looked delicious. Beyond this bush lurked another one, and then another; in fact, it was a whole row of blueberry plants. To the left and right stood more rows, the bushes heavy with tart, juicy berries. Twilight was sprawled on the ground, in the middle of somepony’s blueberry farm, surrounded by countless ripe, delicious fruit.

As Twilight processed this, the berry she had touched with her nose continued bobbing on its branch. Twilight found it hard to look away from the blueberry’s hypnotic swaying. Back and forth, back and forth—she almost thought she could see the grapefruit-sized berry sloshing with the juice it held. It was going to drop; she was sure of it. A single bead of condensation slid down the berry’s skin and fell off—then landed right on Twilight’s tongue. Her mouth was open—though she didn’t even remember opening it—and positioned perfectly to catch the berry when it fell. That berry, so delicious, so juicy, so filling...

Hooves clopped against dirt, and underbrush rustled somewhere behind her.

Twilight snapped back to attention, recoiling from the bush and leaping to her hooves in one swift motion. And not a second too soon—the berry fell where her head had just been. It splattered on the ground, its dark juice spilling out... and spilling... and spilling. The berry had been grapefruit-sized, but the juice that poured out could have filled that volume three times over, then four times. As the juice kept pouring out, then began flowing down the row of plants, Twilight backed away from the bush and the impossible stream of berry juice. And she backed right into another shrub, knocking three more berries to the ground. They began gushing just as much juice as that first blueberry.

There were more hoofsteps behind, and closer now. Twilight ran.

The dark forest surrounded this blueberry farm on three sides. On the fourth side stood a house, and that was the direction Twilight galloped. Branches stuck out from the shrubs, reaching out as if to grab Twilight as she sped by. With each branch she brushed against, more blueberries fell and began pouring out impossible quantities of juice. As she passed the center of the field, Twilight tripped but caught herself just before falling. The obstacle she had stumbled over was a low metal plate: the cap on a drain. Juice from the fallen blueberries was already pooling around the cap—the whole farm was graded to funnel all liquids to this precise spot.

Twilight pushed that out of her mind as she kept running, towards the house. It resembled an ordinary Ponyville two-story home—with exposed timbers and a thatched roof—except it was covered in black and white stripes. Its starkly monochromatic appearance, from the foundation to the weathervane at the very top, Twilight found vaguely disquieting, but she saw nowhere better to run. She jostled one last branch, dislodging a few more berries, before she closed the distance to the front door and darted inside.

Once she shut and locked the door behind her, Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. But she didn’t completely relax. The hoofsteps were still drawing closer, slowly but steadily trotting towards the door. Twilight turned away, her gaze darting around the room for something she could use to barricade the door. And she realized this was not a normal room at all. A variety of hoses hung from one wall, each neatly coiled on its own hook and organized by diameter. Some hoses ended in a simple screw coupling; others were attached to masks, the perfect size to fit over a pony’s muzzle, with rubber straps to hold them in place. One hose, oddly enough, had a cupcake stuck on the end. Other walls were lined with huge tanks: some glass, some metal, all hundreds of gallons in volume. Directly beneath a few of those tanks’ nozzles sat most of the furniture in the room: a few wooden arm chairs and a few gurneys, all with shackles or restraining straps. The only other furniture was a wooden workbench in the corner. Resting atop it were odds and ends, arranged with no rhyme or reason: a stuffed doll of a purple pony, a magic-powered leaf blower, a dozen unlabeled potion bottles, a bicycle tire pump, the largest fireplace bellows Twilight had ever seen, a plate of cookies, and an “ACME Suck-O-Lux” model vacuum cleaner.

The hoofsteps were climbing the front stairs now. The front door rattled, but did not open. Twilight held her breath.

A familiar voice called from the other side of the door: Zecora’s voice. “It’s such a droll end to our little chase. You’ve chosen my house for your hiding place!”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she scrambled away from the door.

A key slid into the door lock.

Twilight darted into the nearest hallway.

The doorknob clicked and slowly turned.

Twilight found an open door to her left, ducked into it, and shut it behind her.

The front door swung open.

Twilight descended a staircase, her hooves practically flying down the steps.

The front door slammed shut.

Twilight clung to the wall at the bottom of the staircase. In spite of her agitation, she had no trouble keeping her breathing steady and quiet, to avoid giving herself away. Zecora’s hoofsteps drew closer... and then went away, as the zebra trotted past the basement door.

Twilight was safe for the moment, but she needed to find a way out, or a more secure hiding spot. This basement was vast—Twilight almost fancied that the entire Golden Oaks Library could fit inside this room. Though the lamps were all unlit, a set of windows near the ceiling permitted enough moonlight to see by. Said windows were wide, but too short for even a filly to crawl through, so no good as an escape route. Set into the wall beneath them was a large control panel, an angled desk covered in buttons and levers. Between the windows and the control panel, an open pipe stuck straight out of the wall. The adjacent wall, opposite Twilight and the staircase, was lined with glass tanks, most filled with a dark blue liquid.

And in the center of the room, standing directly in a beam of moonlight, was another pony. She was a unicorn, and though it was difficult to make out her color in this light, Twilight got the distinct impression she had a purple coat and mane. All four of her hooves were tied to iron loops, themselves bolted to the concrete floor, but there was enough slack in the ropes that she could have walked several feet in any direction. On her haunches, a paper sign reading “Test Subject 6” obscured her cutie mark. The upper half of her face was hidden behind a cloth blindfold, while one of those same masks from upstairs covered her muzzle. A clear plastic hose hung off the mask, its other end not attached to anything. It was long enough to stretch across the whole room diagonally, but its length twisted and coiled along the floor around the pony.

Looking at the bound mare, Twilight felt the nagging certainty that she should know this purple unicorn—that she was somepony very close to Twilight—but her name clung stubbornly to the tip of Twilight’s tongue. Still, whoever she was, Twilight wasn’t about to leave her to Zecora’s mercy. Twilight crept forward silently, up to the unicorn’s side, stepping over the plastic hose as she did. “Pssst. Quiet,” she whispered.

Tilting an ear towards Twilight, the unicorn quietly mumbled something vaguely inquisitive.

“I’m a friend. I’m here to rescue you.”

“Hrrrm?”

“Let me get these ropes off...”

“Nmm!”

Twilight bent down and mouth-grabbed the knot from the unicorn’s nearest hoof. But when her teeth sank into the rope, a jolt of electricity shot through her entire body. She recoiled, barely restraining herself from crying out from the pain. Instead, she whispered, “What the...?”

“Nmmmmm!” the bound pony whisper-mumbled.

Twilight approached the pony again. One of her hind hooves stepped right into a loop in the hose. Tentatively, Twilight prodded with a forehoof at another rope’s knot. Again, the current shot through her body, more painful than before. Twilight recoiled and stepped back again, too dazed to notice as she pulled the hose loop tight around her hind leg. Her half-fried brain wondered if the electricity had made her skeleton visible, then she shook her head to dismiss the absurd thought.

“Nrrm!” the purple unicorn said through her mask. “Nrrm, nrrm!”

Twilight stepped in front of the pony, dragging a few feet of the hose behind her. This time, she reached out with her telekinesis, grabbing the straps that held the mask over the mare’s face. The electric backlash was swift and violent, blasting Twilight away from the unicorn before she realized what was happening. As she flipped end-over-end through the air—pulling more and more of the hose with her—she had just enough time to see which wall she was about to collide with.

Oh dear, there’s that pipe, Twilight thought—remarkably calmly, considering the circumstances. A pony could get really hurt if she hit it.

Fate smiled on Twilight for a change, and she didn’t hit the pipe. She hit the wall just below the pipe—smacking her spine into the the concrete, with her head pointing straight down. So when gravity reasserted itself, it was Twilight’s forehead and horn that hit the control panel below. She kicked her legs on pure reflex, and the plastic hose flopped with her hind leg—then with a quiet pop, the hose’s coupling snapped onto the open pipe and held tight. The loop around Twilight’s leg loosened, and she rolled off the control panel, onto the floor.

“Whuh...” Twilight said as she stood back up, swaying on her hooves. “Did anyone get the license plate on that pegasus?”

“Mmmm?” the bound unicorn asked.

Twilight shook her head clear. “Right, first things first,” she muttered. She began scanning the seemingly endless rows of buttons, levers, and display dials. “Maybe something on this control panel will release her, or shut off that electrical barrier, or...”

Hooves clopped in the hallway upstairs again—and Twilight’s heart tried its very hardest to leap straight out her throat. This time, the hoofsteps stopped right outside the basement door.

Drat! Twilight thought. Almost out of time. Do I make my own escape? Or do I hope I can free this other pony, and hope that the two of us can overpower Zecora together?

Of course, that was barely a choice. Up above, Zecora’s confident, sing-song voice called out. “My guest is nowhere else inside. Just one more place where she might hide...”

Sweat ran down Twilight’s forehead as she continued her desperate search of the control panel, her gaze darting this way and that.

Sloooooowly, the basement door opened, its drawn-out creak like nails against the chalkboard of Twilight’s mind.

“Aha!” Twilight found a green button labeled “Open”. Without hesitation, she pushed it with her hoof.

It didn’t have the effect Twilight expected. Absolutely nothing happened to the bound unicorn in the center of the room. Instead, a loud shriek sounded from outside, through an open window. It wasn’t from a pony or any animal, but from a metal hinge that desperately needed lubrication.

“That came from the field, plain as day,” Zecora said. “I wonder how she got away...” She galloped, away from the basement and out of the house.

Twilight breathed a huge sigh of relief... then perked up one ear. She could hear Zecora outside, searching the rows and rows of blueberry plants—but there was another sound, closer. That pipe above the control panel was gurgling, quietly at first, but growing louder with every second. “Uh oh,” Twilight said, as she put the pieces together.

“Hmmmhmmmmhmmmm,” the other purple unicorn whimpered.

A dark blue liquid poured from the pipe. It rushed down the plastic hose, and into the mask strapped to the bound pony’s face. Her cheeks bulged out as the liquid forced its way into her mouth, and she began swallowing.

Twilight wanted to slap herself. It was so obvious in retrospect: the button she’d pushed had nothing to do with the imprisoned pony, because it opened that drain in the center of the blueberry field. And the gradient of the field funneled every liquid towards that drain, especially the juice from those berries—the illogically massive volume of juice gushing from the fallen berries.

Twilight rushed over to the purple unicorn’s side. The mare’s stomach bulged out nearly a foot from the juice she had already drank, and it swelled further as Twilight watched, gaining an inch or so with every mouthful swallowed.

“Don’t worry!” Twilight hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. She gave the unicorn’s belly a reassuring pat, and it jiggled slightly at her touch. “Listen, um, what’s your name? Oh, right. Your sign says ‘Test Subject’—so I’ll call you T.S. for now, okay?”

T.S. just groaned.

Twilight continued, “I’ll get you out of this, T.S....” She reached for the unicorn’s mask—and at the last second, she realized what she was doing and pulled her hoof back, resting it on the unicorn’s paunch again. “Um... somehow...” She paused like that, her hoof pressing against that gut, squishing into its expanding side, feeling the liquid pressure building...

Twilight coughed, then turned and bolted back to the control panel.

“Mrrrrhh,” T.S. answered, in between gulps, while she bloated to the size of a mare ten months pregnant with twins, and then larger. The sides of her belly squished against her legs, pushing them a few inches apart as it spread wider. She gulped down her body weight in blueberry essence, but the juice just kept flowing; in fact, with every passing minute, the flow increased. Her swollen gut—hanging just a few inches above the floor now—wobbled with every gulp, and wobbled again with every inch her legs spread to accommodate it.

“I just need to find the button to close the drain,” Twilight muttered to herself—but it was easier said than done. Logically, it should have been adjacent to the button she had hit in the first place, yet she couldn’t find that button again. It had been a green button, but now the control panel was an endless field of blue, red, and yellow, with not a single green in sight. The label had said “Open”, but now the labels weren’t even in Equestrian, but in a mishmash of foreign alphabets that was almost certainly gibberish.

Behind her, T.S. inflated even larger. Her belly brushed against the floor, then rested heavily on the concrete. With no more room to expand down, her gut spread out and up, squishing against her ribs, flanks, and legs. Even as the mare widened her stance further, her limbs squeezed nearly half their diameter into the sides of her expanding stomach.

Twilight gave up on the control panel. She reached up to the pipe with her telekinesis and gave the hose a good, hard pull. It refused to budge. Twilight yanked a few more times, but the hose was attached securely, with a coupling mechanism so complicated, she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. She fired more magical power at it, intending to brute-force the hose off. But this activated a magical countermeasure: the pipe and coupling rapidly heated up, then just as rapidly cooled down, melting them enough to fuse the hose in place, without obstructing the flow of juice at all.

“Aw, nuts,” she said.

More sounds came from the field outside: beating hooves, more rustling branches, more plops and splashes. Zecora, in her continued search for Twilight outside, was knocking more and more berries to the ground—adding more streams of blueberry juice to the current filling the imprisoned pony. The flow was so great that even the hose was swelling now. Bulges the size of a mare’s head formed and slid down the hose in rapid succession, adding more and more to the sloshing mass in the unicorn’s stomach.

One of T.S.’s forehooves lifted off the concrete an inch, as her gut inflated far enough to raise her into the air. “Mrrrnn?” she said as she tried to reach for ground again—but as she did, her other hooves also lifted off, one after the other. Two inches, three inches, six inches she rose atop her ballooning stomach. “Nnnnrrrr!” She kicked all four legs frantically, desperately scrabbling for a solid surface—but all she could reach was her belly, wobbling beneath her as it inflated ever larger. “Nnrrrr, nnnnrrr!” Her cheeks puffed out further, stretching the straps of her muzzle mask. Her hooves batted against her massive gut, squishing into its sloshy softness, while it lifted her to nearly twice her old height.

As frustrating as it was, the control panel was clearly Twilight’s only hope of ending this nonsense. But as she resumed her search for the button to solve her problems, she only found herself more lost than before. She couldn’t remember what color she was looking for, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t blue—yet all the buttons and levers were now dark blue, the same color as the juice filling that other pony. Every one of them was distinctly labeled—but the text was all Zebraic. A few of the gauges had helpful pictograms instead of numbers or text—but they were all pictograms of purple unicorns in various stages of inflation, their bellies (or rumps, or teats, or entire bodies) swelling like balloons.

With a groan, Twilight smacked her face against the console. Something clicked beneath her snout—a big, blue button she had pressed with her face. There was a low, powerful rumble of heavy machinery, then the ground shook, and the entire basement with it. Twilight felt her jaw rattling before she fell to the floor, and T.S. wobbled all over every inch of her enormously bloated belly. Beyond the rumbling, Twilight heard Zecora cry out in surprise—and then a veritable chorus of splattering fruit and rushing liquid.

After thirty seconds, the artificial earthquake abruptly stopped, but Twilight just remained on the floor and groaned. The damage had already been done: the shaking had knocked every remaining blueberry on the entire farm to the ground. She didn’t want to imagine how much of the impossible juice was pouring out now.

And she didn’t really need to imagine, because she could already see it. The hose bulges were each as large as an adult mare now, with less than a second’s pause between them as they rushed down the hose, into T.S.’s mouth. The massive bumps in the hose became slightly-less-massive bulges in her neck, which sped down her esophagus to fill the small lake in her gut fuller by the second. The imprisoned pony wasn’t really swallowing the juice anymore; the liquid just forced itself down her throat at its own escalating pace.

“Mnnnnmmmm...” she moaned against the flood. Her bulging cheeks, bloated almost as large as the berries outside, stretched the straps of her mask to their very limit, but the rubber still held. She was over twice her old height—quickly approaching three times that—atop the squashed globe of her still-inflating belly. She still kicked her legs, but lethargically, as though she knew it were futile but hadn’t quite admitted that to herself. Her elbows and haunches squeezed several inches into her soft gut, and every motion of her legs sent ripples across its expanding surface.

Hoofsteps approached from outside the house, and a shadow partially blocked the moonlight through the window. Zecora stood just outside, facing the house, though Twilight could only see her legs from this angle. The zebra’s laugh made Twilight leap to her hooves and back away from the window, until her rump bumped into T.S.’s huge gut.

“You’re a sneaky one, my pony friend,” Zecora called down, “but now our chase is at an end. I know you’re there, you cannot run—so our real game has just begun...”

Twilight’s gaze darted around the basement one more time, and she sighed as she realized where her best potential hiding spot was. So Twilight ran, circling around the inflating mare just as Zecora’s head squeezed through the open window. With that massive, juice-filled gut between her and the zebra, Twilight rose up on her hind legs and pressed herself against T.S.’s belly—to better hide herself, of course.

A loud clop signaled Zecora’s landing on the floor. “My, my, test subject, what happened here? You weren’t like this when I left you, dear. I must find the one responsible...” She prodded the unicorn’s gut a few times, causing it to wobble against Twilight. “...and give to her, my thanks in full.”

As Twilight pressed herself up against the expanding stomach, she focused on the sounds of Zecora, preparing herself to respond to the zebra’s next move. So she paid no heed to how decadently soft that stomach was. She dutifully ignored the pleasant sloshing of the juice inside. She especially didn’t notice how the belly bulged around her, as she stood still against its ongoing inflation.

However, a small, detached part of Twilight’s mind did notice that the inflating mare really was purple—exactly the same shade as herself. Funny, that.

Hoofsteps! Zecora walked a few paces, clockwise, around the bloating unicorn. As quietly as possible, Twilight shuffled clockwise herself, listening intently. When Zecora stopped, Twilight froze as well. Zecora moved a few more paces, and so did Twilight. Trot... pause... trot... pause... Twilight mirrored Zecora perfectly—that is, if mirrors reflected radial symmetry around a massively inflating mare.

And that mare, riding atop her growing belly, suddenly jerked to a stop, with a “Mnnnmmm!” She was four times the height of a normal mare—but could expand no higher, because the ropes binding her legs to the floor had all pulled taut. Stuck between T.S. on top and the floor below, her already-wide gut widened even faster than before.

Meanwhile Zecora began chanting again: “She’s an enchantress most scary...” She prodded the stomach again before taking a few more steps. “She loves juicy berries...”

Zecora reversed and began trotting counter-clockwise; Twilight matched her.

Darn it! Twilight thought. She’s keeping herself between me and the stairway out.

“They say that the taste is quite extr’ordinary!” Zecora was louder now, properly singing. She moved in an odd, irregular dance-step—and Twilight surprised herself by matching it perfectly. Even as they matched each other’s steps, they moved further and further apart, widening the circle they walked to make room for T.S.’s expansion in between.

“Mnnnmmm! Mrrrrmmm!” T.S. moaned through her mask. She arched her neck as far back as she could, before dropping forward to rest her head atop the gigantic gut underneath. Her head and neck were perfectly horizontal, so large was the belly holding her up, and her chin sank slightly into its bloating mass.

“And she’ll feed you and feed you, till the weight you can’t carry!” Zecora prodded the unicorn’s gut once more; it wobbled hard enough to slap Twilight’s head.

Twilight bit back a grunt and rubbed her forehead. Then her gaze traveled to the nearest wall, and to the glass tanks lining it, full of blueberry juice. Another plastic hose—identical to the one pumping juice into T.S.—dangled from a nozzle on the nearest tank. Twilight lifted the free end of the hose and smiled.

As T.S.’s mumbles grew more frantic, her gut spread further, bulging between her legs and the ropes that bound them. That stomach was squeezing against her limbs, around the edges of her haunches; its had already enveloped the lengths of rope it pressed against. Then, when her body was no longer enough to stop her belly’s upward expansion, it began squishing around her torso, slowly but steadily—as the relentless flood of blueberry juice pumped her ever larger.

“Your belly will fill to a size legendary!” Zecora reversed again, stepping clockwise around the bloating unicorn.

Twilight, however, continued going counter-clockwise—towards Zecora. By Twilight’s calculations, they would converge behind the inflating mare’s backside. This ends now, she thought.

“Soon your body will be one we call planetary!” As if sensing Twilight’s resolve, Zecora also trotted steadily towards that spot.

Twilight took a deep breath, brandished her hose, and leaped around the curve of T.S.’s gut.

Zecora wasn’t there.

“Sooo... be wary!” the zebra shouted—from above.

Twilight looked up just in time to see Zecora leap from her perch on the massive belly, directly towards her.

In one smooth motion, Twilight ducked and shoved the hose up—forcing it right into the zebra’s open mouth.

Zecora fell to the floor. She rolled upright, then paused, staring with wide eyes at the object lodged between her jaws.

Twilight telekinetically opened the tank’s nozzle, releasing a current of blueberry juice to rush down Zecora’s throat. But as she gulped mouthful after mouthful down, Zecora’s belly remained as slim as ever. The juice was accumulating elsewhere: in her rump and haunches. Thicker and rounder they swelled, resembling absurd backside transplants from a fatter mare.

“Ha!” Twilight barked. “Maybe you should have been more wary!”

The only answer she got was a “Mmhhrrrmm!” from T.S. somewhere above, as she inflated wider and wider. Her belly completely engulfed her legs, the ropes, and even the hooks on the floor—they all dug so deeply into her gut that, from above, she almost resembled a flower with four petals. A very fat, juicy flower. Enveloped by her expanding gut, the binding ropes began to fray. T.S. still rested her head on her belly, but said belly was sloping up now—slowly lifting her head and neck as it inflated taller. Her torso sank deeper into the soft, squishy expanse beneath her.

Meanwhile, Zecora stood up, her thickening cheeks bouncing upon her hind legs. Her skin stretched to contain the volume of juice, expanding her stripes and sun-shaped cutie mark with it. Glancing at that mark, Twilight realized Zecora’s posterior was almost as large as Princess Celestia’s. Which wasn’t awkward at all. Because Twilight certainly didn’t think those haunches were hotter than Tartarus. And she’d absolutely never-ever fantasized about the Princess spilling strawberry glaze over every inch of them, then asking her Most Faithful Student to clean them with her tongue. Nope, not one bit. It was so not-awkward that Twilight bit her lip, until Zecora’s backside inflated even bigger, and the resemblance to the Sun Princess was no more.

No, her backside resembled a pair of globes now, the width of two mares. Those cheeks and haunches jutted a foot out in every direction, and every time Zecora shifted her hooves, they wobbled and sloshed, slapping against each other and against her hind legs. And Zecora was shifting her back hooves over and over—sometimes swaying her hips for good measure—keeping her backside in constant, hypnotic motion as it inflated larger. Twilight had no idea why the zebra was doing it, but she wasn’t about to complain.

“Mmmhhhhrrrrrrrmmmmmm!” T.S. cried through her mask, through the rush of juice filling her to ludicrous sizes and beyond. Her belly bloated and squished around her, and her torso sank deeper by the second. Engulfed by her stomach bulges, her legs shook uncontrollably from the pressure inside, and the ropes frayed further, individual strands snapping one-by-one. Between that and the force of the blueberry juice pumping into her, the whole surface of her gut trembled—every uncountable square inch over the endlessly increasing liquid mass. “Mmmhhhhrrrrrrrmmmmmm!”

Zecora laughed, muffled by the hose in her mouth.

Twilight tore her gaze away from the zebra’s wobbling, inflating posterior to smirk back at her. “What’s so funny?”

Smiling around the hose, Zecora lifted one forehoof and held something up for Twilight to see. It was a stuffed doll—the purple unicorn doll from upstairs. With a quick flick of the wrist, Zecora tossed the doll up and backwards. It bounced off her backside, setting her haunches a-jiggling again, and landed on the floor behind her. Then Zecora sat on it—that is, if jerking her hind legs up and allowing gravity to smash her ass onto the floor and the doll, counted as “sitting”. And at that precise moment...

“Ooof!” Twilight smashed into the concrete and flattened, thinner than a pancake. She was was a unicorn-shaped rug on the floor, her legs splayed straight out. Twilight tried to raise herself, but an unseen force pressed against her—and the same thing happened when she tried to lift her head, or simply move one hoof. She could move her eyes in their sockets, somehow, but nothing more. The downward force felt like, well... Twilight had never before been crushed underneath an inflating, fifty-times-her-size zebra butt—yet somehow she knew that this was exactly what it would feel like.

Of course, Twilight thought. A voodoo doll.

As Zecora scooted her rump back and forth against the doll, Twilight could even feel the ghostly hairs brushing over her, and the weight of the juice sloshing inside those haunches. Then Zecora, apparently satisfied with the size of her bloated posterior, pulled the hose out of her mouth. Ignoring the stream of juice it poured, she stood up and walked on three hooves towards the flattened Twilight. “You’re clever, true,” she said, “but should think quicker. For trouble caused, now you’ll grow much thicker.”

She scuffed her hoof once, twice over Twilight’s flattened horn. This stimulation caused Twilight’s magic to flare up, involuntarily repeating the last spell she cast: it telekinetically opened the nozzle on the juice tank even further. Zecora then tossed the hose away, without even looking. Between the force of Zecora’s throw, and the jet of blueberry juice blasting out, the hose whipped and flopped through the air—until it slammed into T.S.’s rump, popping into place right beneath her tail.

“Mmmhhhhrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmm!” the unicorn screamed. As the juice pumped into her from both ends, her bonds finally gave out. All four ropes snapped at once, and she swelled explosively the instant she was unconstrained. In mere seconds, that gut lifted her to five, then six, then seven times her old height. In the blink of an eye, her belly filled out in the spots where her legs and the ropes had dug into them—and the bulges in between shrank back slightly, only to bob out again, thanks to the doubled flood of blueberry juice. That massive stomach wobbled all over, and T.S. shook it even more—bowing her back and thrusting her hips, while with all four legs she alternately beat her hooves against her belly, frantically, then prodded and squeezed the sloshy mass as hard and deep as possible.

Zecora, meanwhile, grabbed Twilight’s tail with her teeth and galloped away—Twilight fluttering behind like a purple banner—mere seconds before T.S.’s sudden growth would have engulfed both of them. She set Twilight down, prone, at the base of the staircase. They were safe there, for the moment—but at the rate T.S. was expanding, it would only be a few minutes before her juice-filled belly spread from wall to wall.

Quickly and efficiently, Zecora folded Twilight’s legs and tail across her torso. Then, beginning with the posterior, she rolled Twilight up like a rug. Having reduced the unicorn to a portable purple roll, Zecora balanced Twilight atop her still-inflated hindquarters, then started up the stairs.

From her perch, there were only two things Twilight could do. She could feel the swollen zebra rump beneath her, sloshing with every sway of Zecora’s hips, jiggling with every hoofstep. And she could watch T.S.’s continued inflation. Twilight hadn’t known that this much blueberry juice even existed in the world, yet here it was, and more—filling T.S. so large that her belly now pressed against all four walls of the basement. The inflating unicorn finally stopped writhing, and simply splayed limp atop her bloating gut, with a final, “Hmmmmmmmm....”

Then her mask strap snapped—stretched beyond its limit by her inflating cheeks—and the plastic cover fell off T.S.’s muzzle. She swallowed her last mouthful of blueberry juice, then, upon finding there was no more to drink, said “Huh? What the...?” With a now-freed forehoof, she removed the blindfold from her eyes.

Looking at her now, Twilight knew that face was a familiar one, but she just couldn’t remember where she had seen it.

But T.S. focused on the mask and hose, still spilling more of that juice. She lifted them with her telekinesis, yanked the mask off the end of the hose—then shoved the hose back in her mouth.

If Twilight weren’t flattened and completely unable to move, she would have gasped.

T.S. finally noticed Twilight and winked at her, as she resumed massaging her belly—expanding even larger, lifting her higher and higher.

Then Zecora squeezed her haunches through the doorway, into the upstairs hall, and closed the door behind her.

—————

At the end of the hallway was an open door with a bright light shining through, and Zecora casually trotted towards it. Twilight was facing forward now, but thanks to the constant motion—thanks to the swaying and bouncing of the enormous zebra backside—she couldn’t recognize the room until they were almost there. It was a kitchen.

For a kitchen, it looked perfectly ordinary: there were cabinets, drawers, plenty of counter space, a refrigerator, an oven, and a tile floor. All of them were painted black and white—a checkerboard pattern on the floor, stripes everywhere else. The only spot of color in the room was a glass bowl on the counter, filled with blueberries.

Zecora walked most of the way through her kitchen door, only to jerk to a halt. Her ass was stuck in the doorway. She pulled again, and her haunches remained firmly wedged between the frame—though they wobbled and shook at the motion, giving Twilight quite the ride on top. She then reached forward with her hind legs, bracing those hooves against the wall on either side of the door, and pulled. First one side, then the other, she slid her oversized posterior through, inch by inch.

Twilight bounced helplessly atop that quivering backside, until a particularly forceful jiggle sent her flying over Zecora’s head. She landed on the tiled floor, unrolled, then unfolded her limbs—laying flat once again. She could move her legs now, but in this state she couldn’t support her own weight or do any more than wiggle.

Zecora strained against the doorway even harder, until—Crack!—the frame broke. Her backside, suddenly free, rushed forward. She tumbled through the air and landed on her inflated posterior—right on top of Twilight’s entire upper body.

What Twilight felt was even more intense than being crushed in surrogate via the voodoo doll. Zecora’s cheeks suddenly became Twilight’s entire world—heavy, soft, and dark. The fuzzy sloshiness tickled maddeningly at her face and her horn. Her forelegs poked out from under Zecora’s rear, and Twilight curled them. She was trying to push that posterior away, of course—but in her current state, all she could do was press her hooves into Zecora’s bloated cutie mark and jiggle those cheeks further.

But Zecora had other ideas for Twilight. She stood up and turned around—wearing an imperious smile as she once more held up the flattened voodoo doll. Zecora whipped the doll through the air, once, twice, and it snapped back to its original shape.

Pop! Twilight, likewise, returned to normal.

But before the unicorn could take advantage of her regained third dimension, Zecora pulled a leaf from her own mane and stamped it to the floor, grinding it underhoof. Zebraic runes appeared on the floor, arranged precisely around Twilight’s hooves. When Twilight tried to move, the runes glowed bright blue, and her hooves refused to budge.

“Hey!” Twilight tried to move again, pulling her legs harder, but it was futile. “Hrrrrgh! Hrrrrgh!” The zebra magic had stuck her to the floor more firmly than any glue. Scowling, Twilight pointed her horn at Zecora and charged up her magic...

Then Zecora skewered a blueberry on her horn, and the spell fizzled out. The berry was the size of a large orange, and it slid smoothly down her horn until it was resting against Twilight’s head. Juice dripped out from where Twilight penetrated the fruit’s skin, but this time it was just a slow trickle.

Twilight shook the juice off her face, then readied another spell. But as she cast, something went wrong. The magic didn’t flow out Twilight’s horn as it should have; a few inches into the berry, the magic simply bounced back into her body. And then she felt something settle inside her stomach, as if she had just swallowed a cold drink.

“Don’t use your horn—you must take care,” Zecora said, smirking. “Or you’ll fill up like the mare downstairs.”

Twilight glared back at her. “Alright. What do you want?”

Zecora snorted and waved a hoof towards the front door, and the blueberry field beyond. “I want you to fix the trouble you’ve done: my berries are ruined, every last one!”

“Okay, that’s…” Twilight’s glare softened. “…reasonable. I guess I can help you grow more blueberries.”

Zecora nodded. “A berry with massive, unheard-of size—with blueberrasprites, you’ll surely grow me a prize.”

“Blueberrasprites?”

Zecora pulled another blueberry from the bowl on the counter... a blueberry with compound eyes, three pairs of jointed legs, and a mayfly’s wings. It bobbed up and down atop Zecora’s hoof and smiled at Twilight.

“Half parasprite, half yummy fruit.” Zecora answered, “You must agree they’re awful cute.”

She was right—that thing really was kind of cute. The strange fruit-insect hybrid opened its mouth and blew a bubble, the same color as its own skin. The bubble grew and grew, until it was the same size as the creature—at which point it split off and grew its own wings, legs, and face. So, their method of reproduction: significantly less cute.

“You said it’s ‘half parasprite’?” Twilight asked. “What’s a parasprite?”

“Good question.” Zecora furrowed her brow, then shrugged. “I have no idea. Logically, it doesn’t make any sense for parasprites to be in your subconscious. And speaking of which, you really ought to forget this part of your dream when you wake up, otherwise it’ll cause continuity problems.” Zecora turned to the audience and added, “That goes for you, too.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“What was that?” Twilight asked. “Why did you stop rhyming?”

“What’s this nonsense that you speak? I always rhyme, you silly... geek.”

“No, you—Ulmmph!”

One of the blueberrasprites flew up to Twilight’s face and pulled her lips open. Before she could react, the insect forced itself into her mouth, then down her throat. Twilight tried to cough and gag it back up, but the sprite lodged itself in place every time. Inch by inch, the lump slid down her esophagus, until it plopped into her belly.

Twilight panted for a few seconds. The blueberrasprite was still alive; she could feel its legs and wings tickling the inside of her stomach. Glaring at Zecora, she said, “What the hay was—Uummlph!”

Zecora cut Twilight off by shoving a blueberry—a real one, this time—into her mouth. She lodged the berry between Twilight’s teeth, so tightly that Twilight could neither swallow it nor spit it back out, forming the perfect gag. It was also the size of a grapefruit. How it fit into her mouth was a question that baffled and somewhat frightened Twilight.

“There,” Zecora said. “Now your new friends won’t leave too soon, and your belly will be their comfy cocoon.”

“Nrrr hrrrmm?” Twilight asked through the giant berry. Juice trickled from where her teeth punctured its skin, accumulating inside her mouth.

Zecora just smirked in reply. She grabbed two more blueberries, then juggled them with one hoof as she sauntered past Twilight. She walked close enough that one of her enormous haunches slid against the side of Twilight’s face.

Meanwhile, the other blueberrasprite—the one outside Twilight’s stomach—hovered in front of the bound unicorn’s nose, holding her attention. As Twilight watched, the sprite blew another bubble, which quickly split off to become another sprite. And then she felt the one in her stomach do the same thing.

Twilight gulped—in the process, swallowing the juice in her mouth—as visions of exponential growth ran through her head. Two times two is four, she thought, times two is eight, times two is sixteen, times two is thirty-two, times two is—

Zecora flicked her tail as she walked by, slapping the tip of Twilight’s horn. By reflex, Twilight shot off another bolt of magic—which, just like the last one, was blocked by the berry on her horn and then transformed into juice inside her stomach, about a pint’s worth. Amidst the cool weight of the juice, Twilight felt more tickling in her stomach as the two blueberrasprites became four. Between the sprites and the juice, Twilight’s stomach had swollen a few inches.

“And now, we just need one thing more—” Zecora was directly behind Twilight now, and appraised her backside with a critical eye, “—a bar and lock for your backdoor...”

“Hrrrhm?” Twilight’s eyes widened, and she shook her head frantically. “Nmmm, nnmm!”

Swiftly and smoothly, Zecora rammed the two blueberries into Twilight’s posterior—one right below her dock, then the other slightly below that.

Twilight jerked forward—accidentally biting into the berry in her mouth, which made so much juice gush out that she had to swallow, twice—with a furious blush on her face. She felt so tight back there; both berries were thick enough to wedge in place, just as firmly as the berry in her mouth. And they, too, began to trickle juice into her.

Then Zecora bumped her inflated hips against Twilight’s, prompting the unicorn to yelp, “Mmrmm!” and clench involuntarily. This squeezed a gush of juice from both berries, abruptly adding several more inches to Twilight’s belly. After that burst, the flow reduced somewhat—but the juice was still pouring faster than before.

The blueberrasprites within Twilight’s stomach doubled again. Distracted by everything else, she had lost count of how many were inside her now; they were just a wriggling, ticklish mass deep within. Although, by this point they were no longer reproducing in unison—so at any given moment, there was at least one new sprite budding off. Either the sprites or the juice alone would have been enough to expand Twilight’s torso; together, they made her gut hang halfway to the ground and spread nearly as wide as two mares. It squished against her legs as it expanded, bulging around them while they remained stuck to the floor.

Twilight looked down at her snout, at the oversized blueberry wedged in her mouth. I wonder… she thought. Maybe I can just chew it enough to spit it out. And then get everything else in my stomach out that way. So she chomped down on it. Another blast of blueberry juice filled her mouth, swelling her cheeks until she was forced to swallow. Again she bit, then again, and again—as she did, gulping down more and more of the juice for the growing population of sprites to bathe in, and to fill her stomach even larger.

Something squishy brushed against the underside of Twilight’s belly, leaving a patch of wetness behind. Twilight turned to look at the source: Zecora had lain down and now rubbed a single blueberry against Twilight’s growing paunch, staining her coat dark blue with the juice. Noticing Twilight’s glare, Zecora laughed and said, “If you’re going to be the proper shade, I must begin, before your size upgrade.” Then she kept rubbing, spreading the juice, shaking Twilight’s belly with every brush. The juice sloshed inside her womb and stomach; the sprites filling her stomach writhed and tumbled over each other.

Then the blueberrasprites outside, flitting about the kitchen, caught Twilight’s attention. They didn’t look like blueberries anymore, but more like breezies. Actually, that wasn’t quite right: they resembled miniature zebras, with black-and-blue stripes and membranous wings—zeberrasprites. Over a dozen of them landed on Zecora’s rump and haunches, then proceeded to massage her. They kneaded and prodded at those stretched stripes, and Zecora’s swollen backside wobbled from their tender care. And then it began shrinking, much to Twilight’s confused disappointment.

Twilight had been chewing the berry in her mouth for some time, and now she had to admit that it was a lost cause. She couldn’t tear off any pieces of the fruit, no matter how hard she bit. It was like chewing on a toy ball, deforming between her jaws but always springing back into shape—that is, if a toy ball could spurt out more than its own volume of juice with each bite. So Twilight stopped chewing—then noted that the juice’s flow only slowed down halfway. Her eyes widened while her cheeks filled even further, and she swallowed yet another mouthful. “Hrrmmm…” she moaned.

More zeberrasprites buzzed through the air around Twilight and Zecora, close enough for Twilight to feel the breeze from their passing. One tickled her nose. Another brushed her horn—triggering Twilight to shoot off another jolt of magic, which became yet another pint of juice in her belly. And then another sprite brushed against her horn, and another. Twilight sighed.

Zecora pulled away from Twilight, just before the unicorn’s belly grew far enough to touch the floor. She had successfully smeared blueberry juice over the whole bottom half of Twilight’s expanding gut. As Zecora stood up, her backside shook—although less than before, thanks to the inches it had already shrunk. But now it was clear where those inches had gone: when the sprites squeezed the blueberry juice out of her haunches and rump, it accumulated in her teats instead. Already, her mammaries were the size of oranges, and they were still growing larger, jiggling slightly with every step she took. Of course, even with Zecora’s ass reduced slightly, it was still more than large enough for her to drag it against Twilight’s inflating belly as she walked, causing both bloated masses to slosh and shake against each other.

“Mhhrrrmmm…” Between her own treacherous horn, and the berry in her mouth, and the two more berries behind, and the sprites multiplying inside her, Twilight was helpless to do anything but bloat larger and larger. Her belly pressed against the floor now and spread further to the sides. Twilight moaned and tried to move her legs, tried to make room for her stomach’s continued expansion, but the magic runes held her hooves tightly to the tiles. So her inflating gut squished against her limbs, bulging around them to expand even further, squeezing tighter and tighter as the pressure grew inside.

Twilight felt that squishy scrubbing on her backside: Zecora was spreading the juice back there now. Back and forth, back and forth, the blueberry in her hoof rubbed against Twilight’s haunches. And instead of standing behind the inflating unicorn, Zecora stood to her side, pressing her striped barrel and Celestia-sized haunches into Twilight’s bloating belly as she reached around. Back and forth, back and forth she scrubbed, shaking Twilight’s gut with her every motion. Zecora shook as well, her backside jiggling slightly atop her legs, and her grapefruit-sized teats sloshing between her legs—squeezing together as they continued to grow. Squish, squish went her inflating mammaries; squish, squish went Twilight’s belly as Zecora pressed back against its expansion.

Then when Zecora moved on to her rump, Twilight reflexively clenched, squeezing even more juice out of the blueberries back there, into her bloating womb and stomach. Twilight’s gut swelled against Zecora as she smeared juice back and forth, back and forth across those cheeks, which flexed and wobbled under her gentle hooves.

And then those hooves sank deeper into Twilight’s rump. Juice flowed into her backside now, filling it larger and rounder—stretching her star cutie mark just before Zecora hid it under a coating of blue. The juice was filling out the rest of Twilight’s body as well. Her back arched, both from the juice inside it and from her belly’s pushing up. Her shoulders thickened against the bases of her legs and neck. Her legs puffed out, pressing back against her stomach’s expansion as they bloated thicker. Her stomach, undeterred, squeezed farther around her limbs even as they inflated, slowly engulfing them in its own spreading mass.

The sprites inside Twilight’s belly wriggled and churned, multiplying further by the second. Their legs and wings tickled every square inch of her stomach, which stretched farther and farther to contain their numbers. Outside, more and more sprites swarmed around her. Some of them helped Zecora paint Twilight with juice, carrying berries larger than themselves and smearing them against her bloating sides, her back, and her legs. Others simply flew around Twilight’s head, and they brushed against her horn almost constantly now—triggering surge after surge of magic, each of which just became yet more juice inside her. Still more of the sprites pressed down on her snout or up on her jaw, forcing Twilight to chomp into the berry again and again, letting loose a flood of juice down her throat, inflating her gut even further.

Wider and wider that belly spread, almost completely enveloping her legs. Those legs, twice as thick now and still rooted to the floor, trembled as they futilely pushed back against her stomach’s expansion. The runes beneath her hooves flared brighter and brighter, occasionally giving off sparks as the magic kept pace with the pressure from that inflating gut. Atop her hind legs, Twilight’s haunches swelled larger than pumpkins, wobbling with every ounce of juice that pumped into them.

“Mmmmm…” Twilight’s eyes were wide and unfocused from the sensory overload. The pleasant sting of her skin stretching; the electric surge of her own magic into her horn; the squishy flesh of the blueberry between her teeth; the sloshing of the gallons of liquid inside her; the tickling of thousands of sprites inside, their hooves and wings in constant motion—it was just too much for her to take in all at once.

So when Zecora stopped painting Twilight’s rump, stopped leaning against her expanding belly’s side, Twilight barely even registered it. She didn’t even think much of Zecora suddenly standing right in front of her, until the zebra started smearing juice all over her face. Her hooves glided over the unicorn’s snout, flicked across her ears, and squished into her puffed-out cheeks. She worked the juice deep into Twilight’s mane, scratching her scalp most pleasantly as she did. She began painting Twilight’s neck... but was interrupted.

Greater and greater, the pressure grew against Twilight’s legs. Her belly pushed out against them, harder and harder, but zebra magic fixed them to the floor, unmovable. Torn between competing forces, Twilight’s legs shook uncontrollably. Finally, the runes smoked, sputtered, and sparked, as the magic was completely overwhelmed. All four hooves sprang into the air, and Twilight’s legs stuck straight out—stiffened by the juice filling them—leaving her bobbing up and down on her massive stomach.

Twilight was a few feet taller this way, and her still-inflating gut was lifting her higher by the second. So Zecora set up a stepladder in front of Twilight before she resumed her painting. There Zecora stood: her hind legs on the ladder, one foreleg on Twilight’s bloated shoulder, while her free forehoof spread blueberry juice across Twilight’s neck. And thanks to this position, with Zecora’s underside directly over Twilight’s face, the unicorn couldn’t help but get an eyeful of juicy, oversized zebra teats. Zecora leaned and swayed as she scrubbed Twilight’s coat, and her cantaloupe-sized crotchboobs swayed a second behind her. Twilight’s eyes fixed on those soft, gray globes as they swung hypnotically—towards her, then away—towards, then away. They wobbled and sloshed, and they were large enough to squish against each other and against the inside of Zecora’s haunches. They shook side-to-side when Zecora switched which forehoof she balanced on. And all the while, they swelled larger still; every time they swayed, they swung a little closer to Twilight’s face.

Zecora, unconcerned about the show she was giving Twilight, continued smearing juice over the unicorn. She reached the point where Twilight’s neck was sinking into her inflating shoulders, and she shoved her hoof all the way into that crevice. She was going to ensure every inch of the unicorn was painted with dark blue juice.

Likewise, Twilight’s legs were sinking into her bloating shoulders and haunches—they, at least, had been completely covered in juice beforehoof. Said haunches were as large and round as a pair of exercise balls, and they began to merge with her torso as it expanded further—twice Twilight’s height, and even wider.

Zecora leaned forward to scrub a hard-to-reach spot, and one of her teats brushed the tip of Twilight’s horn. Twilight’s eyes dilated—and before she could even process what had happened, her biggest magic flare yet blasted into her horn, and was transformed into juice in her belly. And Zecora did it again and again—the contact between her crotchboobs and Twilight’s horn lasting longer each time, as her mammaries and the whole unicorn both inflated larger. And, incidentally, each contact caused Twilight to inflate even larger. After the twelfth time, Twilight lost count—and then her horn slipped between those teats and didn’t leave. They were the size of beach balls now, though slightly flattened between Zecora’s haunches, and they squeezed tightly around Twilight’s horn. Back and forth, back and forth they swayed, pulling her horn further into their deep cleavage.

Zecora had finished with Twilight’s neck and was now painting over the last remaining patches of purple, on the unicorn’s withers and back. As Twilight inflated even higher, Zecora had to lean farther to reach those spots—and then the ladder wobbled under her hind hooves. She jerked her hips, trying to regain her balance—shaking her teats around Twilight’s horn in the process—but it was no use. The ladder tipped even further, so she jumped onto Twilight, sinking her hind hooves into that massive, blue belly, while holding to Twilight’s shoulders with her forehooves.

That position brought her groin even closer to Twilight’s head—enough to engulf the unicorn’s entire face between her teats. Perched on the inflating unicorn, Zecora rose to three, then four times a pony’s normal height. As Twilight filled larger, she grew more and more round: her shoulders and haunches merged with her body, her legs sank over halfway into her sides, and now her neck was following. But Zecora paid no heed to Twilight’s expansion underhoof, nor to the head stuck deep within her cleavage—she simply resumed painting Twilight’s back with juice. Back and forth, forward and back, she leaned her whole body into each stroke. Twilight’s bloating body wobbled beneath Zecora’s hooves; Zecora’s enourmously swelling teats jiggled and sloshed around Twilight’s head.

Even with her eyelids shut, Twilight’s eyes rolled back in her head. Her entire world was softness, darkness, and sloshing juice. The tiny hooves of the sprites tickled her, inside and out, while she grew more sensitive with every inch she stretched. Rivers of juice flowed from the berries in every orifice, their currents sloshing inside her as they pumped her endlessly larger. Her puffed-out legs were almost completely engulfed in her inflated body—even if she’d still possessed the presence of mind to move them, only her hooves were free. And above all that were Zecora’s teats, their softness embracing every inch of Twilight’s face, pressing against her ballooning torso as her neck sank into it, and, best of all, squeezing up and down the entire length of her horn. She would have let her mouth hang open and her tongue loll out, if there weren’t a berry in the way, pumping still more juice down her throat as those teats squeezed it as well.

There was just one last patch needing juice on Twilight’s withers. As Zecora reached for it, she thrust her hips forward and squeezed with her haunches. The juice rippled through her enormous teats, squishing Twilight even more tightly with her cleavage than before. And then she clambered over Twilight’s head and stood on her back—but the damage had been done. She had finally pushed Twilight over the edge.

On some unconscious level, Twilight had been holding her magic back. Every time some horn stimulation triggered a magical burst, she still only released a fraction of a fraction of her potential power—the power that, even as a filly, enabled her to hatch a dragon’s egg and earn her place as Princess Celestia’s personal student. Now, spurred by that last embrace from Zecora’s teats, Twilight let go.

Every ounce of Twilight’s magical potential rushed through her horn, transforming into a massive current of juice that dwarfed everything that came before. She inflated to six, seven, then eight times her old height in mere seconds. Her hooves were completely swallowed by her ballooning sides, and her head was quickly following them. The magic blasting through the berry on her horn triggered reactions in the other berries as well: the two in Twilight’s backside gushed enough liquid to rival the Amarezon River, while the one in her maw only spewed a lake’s worth before exploding harmlessly. Before she could even think of closing her mouth—if she could think at all in this state—a dozen zeberrasprites rushed through her jaws and down her throat. Only the tip of Twilight’s muzzle poked out of her torso—inflating to twelve, thirteen, fourteen times her old height—but that was enough for the thousands of remaining sprites to swarm and force their way inside her. She wobbled and shook all over from the force of the juice from three directions and the sprites from the fourth. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty times her height she grew, as the last sprite disappeared into her mouth, and then her snout disappeared into her bloating body.

Strange geometries were at work here. Twilight was nowhere close to touching the walls or ceiling of this kitchen—even though she was now larger than Zecora’s entire house had appeared from outside.

Zecora, for her part, trotted across Twilight to better admire her work. Or rather, she waddled. Her backside had finally shrunk back to normal, while her teats hung all the way to the ground—which, in this case, was Twilight’s great, round back—and forced Zecora to spread her hind legs around them. She couldn’t take a step without squeezing a back leg into the side of those massive mammaries, which sloshed and jiggled beneath her.

In spite of that, Zecora couldn’t help but smile at what Twilight had become. The unicorn was filled to the brim with a mix of blueberry juice and sprites—then filled past the brim, past all rational limits. Her legs and head were gone, leaving just slight in-folds at the spots where they had sunk into her body. She was not a pony anymore, but an immense globe, squashed slightly by her own weight.

Best of all, Twilight was dark blue all over—every uncountable square inch of her coated in blueberry juice.

“Here’s my prize-winning berry at last,” Zecora said, patting the bloated unicorn beneath her, “her beauty and flavor both unsurpassed.” She prodded once more, squishing her hoof a few inches into the bloated blueberry and holding it there—where she could feel the pressure still growing inside.

The greatest part of Twilight’s inflation had passed—her magic surge was spent, and there weren’t any more sprites rushing into her—but she was still swelling larger. The berries in her backside continued pumping juice into her, and the sprites inside continued multiplying, slowly but steadily expanding the unicorn-turned-blueberry even farther.

There was a gleam in Zecora’s eye, as her smile widened. “But is she ripe? I don’t quite know. I think she needs more time to grow…”