Dying for Pie

by doomie-22

Rating: teen
Tags: Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, Granny Smith, Applejack, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fetish
Length: 7209

Apple Bloom stuffs herself with pie and other delicious Apple treats.

Apple Bloom can't sleep. Surely a midnight snack will fix that problem. But what starts out as a midnight snack soon turns into a midnight feast of pies, apple fritters, and cider.

Takes place during "Somepony to Watch Over Me."

WARNING: This story contains stuffing/weight gain. Do not read if this isn't your cup of tea. If it is, enjoy!

Published 2017-06-27 06:20:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-06-27 06:20:06 UTC

Just One Bite

If it wasn’t one thing keeping Apple Bloom awake, it was another. The little filly lay in her bed, her body all atwitter with excitement, as she remembered back to a few hours ago when she had been told by her family that they had decided that she was old enough to stay home by herself, at least for a few hours. Naturally, being a young filly, she was excited about the prospect of being on her own for the first time. It was an exciting, new experience for her. While Big Mac and Applejack would be off delivering pies, Granny Smith was off helping Great Aunt Pine Apple with something or another. Though she would be home by herself, Apple Bloom was still expected to do her chores while the family was away, and to have them done by the time they got back, whenever that would be.

Alas, this was not the only thing keeping Apple Bloom awake. True, her body buzzed with excitement about being home by herself as if a thousand bees had decided to take residence in her body, but it was not the only thing her body was buzzing about. She was hungry. Her stomach gave off a faint rumbling sound. She turned her head to look over at the clock on her bedside table. It was only half past ten in the evening. By this point, all of the other members of the Apple family had gone to bed. Faintly, she thought she heard the bathroom door close, but wondered if whether or not that was just her imagination.

Then, she recalled that her brother and sister were expected to make pie deliveries tomorrow. Yes, those pies, baked fresh from the oven, filled with all manner of different flavors, were currently simmering in the cellar, awaiting to be packed up and delivered to their respective towns, just sitting there in that cellar, all by their lonesome, with nopony to keep them company. Her mouth watered as this thought struck her, piercing her mind like a bolt of lightning, and reminding her again of her own hunger. At the moment, pies sounded heavenly. But surely she couldn’t just sneak out to the cellar and help herself to some pie. Her brother and sister would be furious, and no doubt the ponies whom those pies belonged to would be mad as well. She would be better off just going down to the kitchen and fixing herself a sandwich or something. Although, a sandwich would hardly be filling. A nice, warm apple pie would really hit the spot; it would sate her hunger for the time being. Surely one pie couldn’t hurt. . . .

She looked down suddenly, feeling something wet hit her chest, and she dimly realized that the wetness coating her chest was her own drool. She lifted a hoof to wipe her mouth clean. Even so, her tongue remained wet. Thinking about all of those warm, delicious pies, with their flaky, crunchy crusts and their appetizing flavors, was having a strange affect on not only her mind, but also her body as well. Suddenly, pie was all she could think about. She tried but failed to will herself to stop thinking about them, but couldn’t. Thinking about them only seemed to increase her hunger even more. She groaned, sitting up, squeezing her eyes shut, and gently rubbing at her temples, trying but failing to think about something else, anything else, besides the pies currently residing in the cellar. Her tongue, as if it had developed a mind of its own, suddenly began bouncing around in her mouth. She could feel it grazing her teeth, smoothly sliding over the roof of her mouth, gliding over her gums, running over her jaws, effectively getting her entire mouth wet to the point where a decent-sized puddle of drool had formed on the covers of her bed, pooling onto her hooves and rump, dampening her rear and tail, the coolness of her own saliva making her yelp and jump in surprise.

Growling in frustration, she kicked her comforter and bed sheets off her bed, rising up onto all four hooves, taking the stance of a pony determined beyond all reason, the expression on her face making her look like she was intent to get her hooves on a pie come Tartarus or high water. “Ah have got to get mah hooves on a pie, and nopony’s gonna stop me!” With that statement, she leaped off her bed, sprinted to her bedroom door, threw it open, and then charged down the stairs and out the front door, somehow doing all of this, making a great deal of noise in the process, without waking anypony else in the house up.

The night air was warm, which wasn’t unusual, seeing as how it was currently summer. Stepping out onto the front porch, Apple Bloom stopped to take a moment to relish in its warmth, closing her eyes, a small smile coming to her lips as a gentle, cool breeze blew past, and she could feel it combing through her mane and tail, the wind itself seeming to come in tendrils, going through each individual strand of hair on her head and lower back. Much like the thought of pie, the feeling was comforting. Sadly it didn’t last, and the wind died down just as quickly as it had come, it seemed, leaving Apple Bloom to do nothing but stand there for a long moment, hoping, wishing for the wind to come back and comfort her once more. It did not, and Apple Bloom made her way down the porch steps, heading towards the cellar that was not too far off from the farmhouse.

She couldn’t help but wonder why Applejack had never felt the need to padlock the doors to the cellar, as they were quite bare, waiting for any would-be thief to waltz up and take whatever they wished from the cellar. Yet, they lived in Ponyville, and robberies were hardly a cause for concern in the quaint little town, given that everypony knew everypony and were friends with everypony. Still, Apple Bloom figured it would be better to be safe than sorry. After all, her family’s baked goods were quite famous, rivaling those of Sugarcube Corner in terms of quality when it came to taste. However, seeing as how the Apples specialized in apple-based goods – such as apple fritters, apple pies, and the like – they were hardly in competition with the Cakes, whose main rival seemed to be Bon Bon, seeing as how she and her partner, Lyra Heartstrings (whether the two of them were merely business partners or lovers was unclear among the townsfolk, although some speculated that they were indeed both – business partners by day and lovers by night) also specialized in the making and selling of sweets. Bon Bon’s sweet shop was not too far away from Sugarcube Corner, making some wonder if the confectioner had indeed picked that particular spot so as to make it hard for them to choose between Sugarcube Corner and her shop. Whether or not the Cakes were rivals with Bon Bon and Lyra was unclear as well, however, seeing as how the four got along quite well. Though, in truth, that was in part due to Pinkie Pie being friends with Lyra and Bon Bon, as well as being seen as something of a daughter between Carrot Cake and Cup Cake.

Alas, Apple Bloom could not dwell on none of that nonsense right now. As if to remind her of her mission, her stomach gave a mighty growl, making her remember that her hunger was why she was up and about in the first place. So, without further ado, she grabbed onto the black handle of one of the doors, the door itself opening with a loud, almighty creak, and she cringed, wincing, peeking open an eye to glance over at the farmhouse to see if anypony had been stirred awake by the noise. No light in any of the windows came on, and she gave a sigh of relief, turning once more towards the cellar doors, looking into the darkness below. Thanks to the glow of the moon up above, she could faintly see a series of steps that descended into the cellar. She took them one at a time, suddenly wishing that she was a unicorn so that she could illuminate the area with her horn, or that she had at least brought a flashlight or some other source of light with her. She had only been down in the cellar once or twice, usually to fetch something for Applejack, but she thought she remembered there being a light switch along the wall somewhere around here. Blindly, she felt around the wall for such a switch, the room becoming flooded with light all of a sudden when she felt her hoof strike something, making her hoof go up towards the ceiling in the process.

It took a couple of moments for her eyes to adjust. Once they had, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. In front of her and on either side of her were shelves upon shelves that were well-stocked with pies, fritters, apples, and various other kinds of apple-based goods. There was very little space on the floor, several barrels of apple cider taking up most of the room, leaving her with very little room to walk around in. But no matter. She was where she wanted to be. Like a river, drool flowed from her mouth, resulting in a puddle beneath her, as the smells met her nostrils. Just the sight alone of all the food in the cellar was enough to make her mouth run like a faucet, and she had to steady her quaking body, it having begun to quiver in anticipation of the practical banquet of sweets that had been laid out before her. As if her shaking hooves and the tingles racing up and down her spine weren’t enough, even her tail did a little dancing of its own, bobbing back and forth, up and down like the excitable kid that it belonged to. She squirmed, pounding all four hooves excitedly against the floor, letting out giddy little squeals and giggles. Once more, she was forced to restrain herself. Truth of the matter was that she wanted nothing more than to lunge at those pies and stuff one in her face. This satisfaction was held back, however, as Apple Bloom didn’t want to come off as seeming as having no self-control, though the uncontrollable desire was hard to squash.

In spite of the fact that it had been fairly short, the walk to the cellar had indeed made her quite thirsty. Luckily for her, there just so happened to be numerous barrels full of apple cider for her to drink. She ducked down, crawling on her belly towards the barrel that was closest to her. Upon reaching the nozzle, she rolled over onto her back, curling her hooves, using one to reach up and turn the nozzle on, instantly opening up her mouth upon doing so, as cider began spouting from its source, gushing down her throat. The temperature of the cider took her by surprise; she wasn’t expecting the cider to be this cold, but supposed that being underground had something to do with that, and she suddenly wondered if maybe the pies had suffered the same fate, as she didn’t feel like eating pies that had become cold. Seeing something red out of the corner of her eye, she slightly turned her head and saw that the shelves that housed the pies had been equipped with a series of heat lamps that were currently on. How had she missed that? Then she remembered that the stairs leading down into the cellar were bordered by brick walls, so she supposed that this mistake could be forgiven.

She suddenly became aware of the fact that she needed to breathe. Once she’d had her fill, once her thirst had been quenched, she turned the nozzle off and sat up, an audible sloshing coming from her full belly. She took a moment to take several deep breaths, slowly but surely allowing some fresh air into her lungs. Some of the dust particles that occupied the space about her got caught in her throat as she inhaled, and she had a coughing fit, swallowing some of her own saliva in order to get the mess cleared up. Some of the air around her was quite stuffy, hardly fitting conditions for eating pie. She would need to make due.

She turned towards the display table on her right, the one that housed at least twenty-four separate pies, the shelves that held them being three, one above the other, at least a foot apart. There was an identical display directly across from this one, right in front of it, it also housing twenty-four pies, arranged in rows of six upon three separate shelves, each one occupied by at least three different heat lamps, not only illuminating the room, casting it in an eerie, dark red glow, but also warming them as well, ensuring that the pies would be nice and warm upon delivery the following day.

Once more, the sight of the pies made her drool as if she was a slobbering dog, and she had to take a step back to get out of the puddle forming underneath her hooves. She swallowed and lifted a hoof to wipe her mouth clean. She licked her lips in anticipation, her body giving a shudder as she imagined the taste, the feel, the smell of the pie she was about to enjoy. With shaking hooves, sweat running down one side of her face, her tongue curled above her upper lip, her face scrunched up in concentration, she reached out and carefully removed one of the pies from its home, as if taking it would start off some alarm, or Applejack would somehow automatically know and come running to stop her. No such thing occurred. Even so, she made sure not to drop the pie that she currently held in her hooves. Slowly, she set it on the floor and simply stared down at it for a moment or two. The pie itself, with its flaky crust and rich fruit filling, was a work of art, a wonder to behold, a piece of mastery in the art of baking that could only be crafted by Applejack, a pony who had spent years bucking apples and using them to bake delicious treats. For a split moment, Apple Bloom felt bad about doing this. Applejack and Big Mac had worked hard on these pies, and it seemed a mite selfish to just ruin all of that hard work. Again, this thought only lasted for a moment, as Apple Bloom’s growling stomach reminded her yet again of her hunger. She did notice, however, that her hunger wasn’t as fierce as it had been before she’d come down to the cellar. She supposed the cider she’d drunk earlier had something to do with that, but the cider had hardly been filling. It had only temporarily sated her hunger, and the only thing that would make it go away permanently was a delicious pie. So, without any further waiting, Apple Bloom opened her mouth, reared back her head, and threw it forward, instantly beginning to chew away at the crust, quickly reaching the fruit filling beneath, stuffing her mouth with both crust and the fruity flavor of the filling, and she let out a satisfied moan before eating more.

Needless to say, the pie was delicious, there was no doubt about it. Its crust and its strawberry filling were both delectable. Its warmth seared her throat, her mouth, her tongue, and warmed her belly once the pie had settled in its new home, in sharp contrast to the cold cider she had consumed earlier. The burning on her tongue, in her mouth, hardly mattered to her, as the taste of the pie more than made up for any burns she suffered from. She barely noticed them at first, the rich, sweet flavor of the pie taking over her sense of taste. She closed her eyes, wanting to enjoy the flavor as much as possible. When her tongue touched the metal bottom of the pie tin, she rotated her head, quickly reaching more pie, and proceeded to stuff her face, cramming as much of the pie into her mouth as much as it would hold, to the point where her cheeks were bulging out, her mouth utterly crammed, stuffed full, of pie, before she chewed and swallowed. It hurt swallowing the large lump, but she gave a delighted moan nonetheless, her body shuddering in pleasure. It was little wonder why her family’s pies were so famous, why they sold so well. There was always a long line of ponies in the square whenever Applejack or Big Mac worked the market, and they would come home with a rather large sack of bits.

With her tongue, Apple Bloom lapped at the bottom of the pie tin once the entire confection had been consumed, getting any crumbs she could find. Panting, she sat up, licking her chops, getting the crumbs that were matted to them due to the juice of the filling that surrounded her lips. These and the juice itself were wiped clean from her muzzle with her tongue, and she let out a sigh of content, falling down heavily onto her rump, giving her belly a few affectionate pats and rubs, noting that despite eating a whole pie and guzzling down a sizable portion of cider, she still wasn’t satisfied. “Well,” she said to herself, “Ah suppose one more couldn’t hurt.” She needed no further encouragement than that, seizing yet another pie off the shelf. Just like last time, she shoved her face into it, chomping away at the dessert, her jaws working hard to chew the food fast, all so she could just cram her mouth with more pie as soon as possible.

The pie was no match for Apple Bloom’s ravenous hunger. She devoured it like a starved dog, once more making a mess of her face, her messy eating causing it to become covered in the sweet juices of the blueberry filling, not that she cared. All that mattered to her was sating her hunger, one way or another. Why stop at apple pies, she thought. Why not try some apple fritters, some apple turnovers, or just some plain old apples? There was a veritable smorgasbord of apple-tastic treats at her disposal. Why not enjoy it? And while she was at it, she figured, she might as well enjoy as much cider as her stomach could handle. She wasn’t entirely sure how she came to this conclusion, but she did, and she liked it.

Within seconds, the pie was laid waste to Apple Bloom’s ferocious appetite. The now empty pie tin was laid aside along with its naked neighbor and another pie was made victim to Apple Bloom’s craving for its sweet filling. She stuffed her cheeks to bursting, closed her eyes as she chewed, concentrating solely on the flavor. This one was raspberry. Not her favorite, but still delicious all the same. In spite of her hunger, she made sure to chew thoroughly, not wanting to end up getting choked. She ate so quickly, however, that oftentimes she forgot to chew properly, and even she herself wondered how she was able to swallow mouthfuls of pie without it resulting in a choking fit.

The juices of the fruit provided a nice contrast to the dryness of the crust, making it so that Apple Bloom’s mouth and throat were consistently wet. This was an added bonus for her, as it meant that she didn’t need to stop to get a drink in order to soothe the dryness in her throat due to the crust. Even so, the juices could only do so much, and she was left feeling quite thirsty despite the juices that ran down her throat. After making quick work of what she figured was her fourth pie already, her thirst became too much for her and she found herself turning away from the buffet of pies to eye the barrels of cider that sat directly across from her. She started to take a step, to walk towards the barrels, only to stop and gawk at herself. Her stomach had become slightly distended. Not a lot, mind you, at least not enough to be completely noticeable, but there was a slight paunch forming around her midsection. She grinned and gave it a playful poke, giggling as she watched it jiggle. She especially liked the way her hoof sank into the flesh of her belly, her abdomen looking and acting like an inflated balloon. She turned her head to look back at the twenty pies still residing on the display table. She had already eaten four. Why not finish the job? And after that, she could help herself to some apple fritters and apple turnovers and mug after mug of cool cider.

Giddily, she trotted over to the barrel of cider she’d drunk out of earlier. Once more, she lied on her back, turned the nozzle on, and allowed a river of cider to pour down her throat. She had difficulty swallowing, the stream was going down her throat so fast, but after a bit of trial and error, she managed to guzzle down the cider like a pro. She breathed through her nose, this being her only means of providing oxygen for herself seeing as how her mouth was currently being filled full of cold cider. When she couldn’t drink any more, she turned the nozzle off and sat up and walked back over to the display table she’d been at before, an audible sloshing coming from her full belly as the drink settled. She briefly noticed that her gait had developed a slight waddle, but this thought was quickly banished from her mind when she reached the display table and grabbed the next to last pie on the lowest shelf, otherwise known as her fifth pie, and immediately began to chow down. Her face lit up and her eyes sparkled, the taste registering on her tongue. This pie was blueberry yet again, her favorite! With renewed gusto, she chewed, burying her face in the pie and eating for all she was worth, her tongue flickering about the bottom of the tin, collecting those sweet blueberry-flavored juices on her tongue and letting them slide down her throat, then she would turn her head to devour what little of the pie remained. Once she was sure that the entire pie had been eaten, she carelessly tossed the empty pie tin over her shoulder, letting out a small burp as she reached for the final pie on the shelf.

She continued this routine of eating repeatedly over the next several minutes. The sixth pie was just as good as the fifth, and so was the seventh, and the eighth, and the ninth, and the tenth. Eventually, she stopped counting and busied herself with enjoying pie after pie after pie, occasionally going back to the barrels of cider to wash them down. Once all twenty-four pies on one side of the room had been eaten, she immediately waddled over to the other side of the room to start on the remaining twenty-four pies on that side. Her waddle had become more pronounced due to her progressively eating more pie and drinking more cider, and her stomach had become a lot larger and more round, but she hardly cared or noticed. The only thing that was on her mind was satisfying her craving for pies and other sweets.

The pies on the other side of the room met the same fate as their brethren, being gobbled down by Apple Bloom’s ever-growing lust for more sweets. With each pie eaten, its container was unceremoniously thrown behind her, landing in the rather large, and still growing, pile of empty pie tins. Pie after pie was stuffed into the filly’s mouth, a mixture of different flavors amid the crusty, flaky goodness that was the pie’s crust. Every pie tin was licked clean to the point where they were spotless, and then they were discarded as though they were mere trash. Unlike earlier, Apple Bloom didn’t stop to take a drink of cider to soothe her dry throat. She no longer cared about how dry her throat was becoming. The juices that the fillings of the pies provided was more than enough to aid in that regard, although they helped very little.

Throughout this whole procedure of gorging herself on pies, Apple Bloom was slowly but surely becoming fatter and fatter. Her stomach began to bloat, jutting outward, making her look as if she’d been inflated like a balloon. Her rear end suffered the same fate, becoming bigger, rounder, as more and more food was crammed into her stomach. She was only made slightly aware of this, indicated by the bobbing of her tail as her stomach and rump became bigger and bigger. There was a pleasurable warmth that started in her belly and coursed throughout her entire body, giving her a pleasant feeling.

The forty-eighth pie, the last one in the long line of pies, was finally eaten, and its metal home was tossed away like all the others. Surprisingly enough, Apple Bloom was still hungry. She didn’t feel full, and she eyed the apple fritters and apple turnovers with a hungry, wanting, longing look, a bit of drool forming at the corner of her mouth as she stared at them. She leaned forward until her front hooves touched the floor, then turned, starting to walk towards the shelves on the wall that held the apple fritters and apple turnovers. She stopped, feeling her stomach gently graze the floor, and she sat back on her haunches once more, lifting her hooves off the floor, staring down at her gargantuan gut. “Whoa!” She was astonished at how big and round her stomach was. She lifted it in her hooves and watched in awe when she let it go, watched as it bounced until it stopped, the contents of her stomach sloshing about in the process, and earning a giggle out of her. She slapped a hoof against the ball of fluff that was her belly, laughing out loud as it jiggled. She briefly wondered just how enormous her butt had gotten, and the thought made her grin and giggle behind a hoof. She was surprised that her hooves could still reach her rump, and she gave it a hard, hearty smack, making her behind jiggle. Once more, she giggled behind a hoof. “Ah look good!”

After taking a moment or two to admire her new body, her eyes were met with the sight of the apple fritters and apple turnovers still sitting on the shelves. With surprising speed for a corpulent pony, she bounded towards them, leaning down, and beginning to shovel the turnovers and fritters into her mouth, her hooves sweeping across them, and her mouth consuming them with bewildering speed. Like a machine, she gobbled them up, as if she herself was on autopilot, like she was in a trance, and the only thing she could think to do was eat, eat, and eat. The fritters were gone within a couple of minutes, quickly followed by the apple turnovers. Every single flavor popped in her mouth, sending signals to her brain that released bouts of pleasure throughout her body, making her face and eyes light up with sheer joy and delight. All the while, her stomach continued to expand, but not by much. After all, the fritters and turnovers weren’t nearly as big as the pies, so they hardly made a difference in terms of the size of her belly.

It wasn’t just apple fritters and apple turnovers that were stored on the shelves. Looking up, she noticed that there were quite a bit of apple fries and caramel apples as well. Her mouth watered, licking her lips as she imagined how delectable the caramel apples tasted, and she reached up to grab them. The only problem was that she’d become so fat at this point that her thick, short little hooves couldn’t reach. She pouted angrily. Her sour mood didn’t last too long, however, as she quickly realized that she could simply use her hooves to get what she wanted. While she couldn’t reach the caramel apples and apple fries, she could easily reach the bottom of the shelf, upon which she pounded on with her fat hooves. As a caramel apple flew into the air, she opened her mouth. The caramel apple fell directly into her mouth. She chewed it swiftly, then swallowed, licking her chops afterwards. Some of the caramel had gotten stuck on the roof of her mouth. She made quick work of it, using her tongue to get rid of it, leaving the roof of her mouth squeaky clean. “Mm, that was good! Time for another!”

Another pound of the shelf resulted in yet another caramel apple falling into her mouth, followed by another, and another, and still more until all of the caramel apples had been eaten. While she had been able to get the caramel apples off the shelves with little to no problem, the apple fries were another story. When she pounded on the bottom of the shelf to get them down, it resulted in the whole container holding the apple fries to topple over, spilling the fries all over the floor. She shrugged her shoulders (or at least tried to) at this, bending down to eat the fries off the floor as if she was a common dog. She wasn’t entirely sure what had come over her to make her glut like this, and in truth it kind of scared her, but she loved it nonetheless. She loved mindlessly gorging herself, making herself fatter and fatter with the more she ate.

After devouring the apple fries, Apple Bloom looked around the room, eagerly waiting to find something else to eat, but found nothing. Her ears drooped. No smells of food met her nostrils. Had she eaten all of the food in the room? Already? Surely she hadn’t. But, upon looking down at her huge belly, she realized that this was in fact true. Her stomach had grown humongous, to the point where her hooves barely touched the floor anymore. Despite this, the apple fries and caramel apples had left her thirsty once more, her throat feeling as if it had been clogged with cotton, and she hurriedly waddled over to the barrels that rested along the wall. There were at least three of them, two on the floor and one resting atop them. She licked her lips. It was time to wash down all that food with some nice, cold cider.

Just as she’d done before, she rolled over onto her back, fitting her mouth to the nozzle. At this point, it had become fairly routine. She swiftly turned the nozzle on, and a torrent of cider began gushing down her waiting open mouth. She looked down so that she could see her belly growing bigger, putting a free hoof on top of it so that she could feel herself expanding. She moaned, feeling the cider rushing down her throat, entering her stomach, and causing it to bloat out more and more with the more cider that she drank. Her abdomen became more and more distended in a much quicker fashion this way than when she was merely stuffing herself with food, probably due to the constant stream of cider that was pouring into her mouth and gushing down her throat. She put her other hoof on her belly, watching in awe, her hooves becoming spread apart as a result of her stomach being filled up so much. It was a truly amazing experience, an experience she absolutely loved. She loved how full she felt, how big and bloated her stomach was, how massive and round her rear end was. Her tail swept across the floor in a happy dance of sorts, acting as a means of exhibiting her joy and pleasure at being inflated to such a large size thanks to the cider, seeing as how her mouth was currently busy. Even so, this hardly disquieted the loud moans escaping through her muffled muzzle. She didn’t care that she was out of breath, that she had to breathe through her nose in order to get oxygen. She just loved feeling herself becoming bigger, fuller, fatter, to the point where she was too big to walk properly. Her fat completely enveloped her hooves, making walking all but impossible now. It didn’t matter to her. She knew by now that she had gone beyond merely satisfying her own hunger; she had become a fat, overweight, gluttonous pig, and she loved it. What did she care what her friends and family would say or think? Their opinion didn’t matter in the slightest to her.

She gave her Brobdingnagian stomach a series of loving pats and rubs. Had her mouth not been occupied at the moment, she would have gladly laughed at how much her stomach jiggled and shook at the slightest touch, though that didn’t stop a smile coming to her lips, smiling as her hooves sank into her stomach like a balloon. She was so big, so round, so fat, so soft. How simply eating one pie had led to her becoming as fat as a pig, as big as a house, she still wasn’t sure. She was uncertain as to how she had allowed her gluttony to get the best of her, but it hardly mattered to her now. The only thing on her mind was getting bigger, getting fatter, getting rounder, getting softer. The word on her mind was “more.” She wanted more. She needed more.

She closed her eyes, in hopes that this would aid in her allowing her to feel herself expanding even more. She was so full that she felt as if she was going to explode, to pop, to burst, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to keep going until she was sure that there wasn’t a crumb of food or drop of cider left in the room. She moaned, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, as she imagined how fat she would be at that point, probably to the point where her body would fill the entire room.

It took her a while to realize that she was sucking on air, having completely drained the barrel of its cider at this point. She pulled her mouth free. Finally, she could breathe properly again. Once more, she glanced down at her massive stomach, patting and rubbing it lovingly before rolling over onto it, which by this point had completely outgrown her hooves, all four of which were utterly useless now. As to how she was going to reach the other barrel beside her was a total mystery to her. She moved her hind hooves, but all that did was cause them to rub up against her gargantuan stomach, prompting a moan from her. She figured that the best approach would be to simply pour the cider into her body herself. Luckily for her, she could easily pick up the barrel. While holding it in one hoof, she ripped off the lid with the other, lifted the rim of the barrel to her lips, tipped it, and started drinking, letting out a pleasurable moan as the cold cider began pouring down her throat.

The contents of the second and third barrel were quickly done away with, every drop being deposited into Apple Bloom’s ever-expanding stomach. Upon finishing the third and final barrel, she dropped the barrel to the floor, then let out a rather impressive belch, and she blushed. She fell onto her back, feeling her stomach move upwards towards her chest, then back down, with her hooves, its contents within sloshing audibly. She gave her enormous belly a loving look, patting and rubbing it. “Oh, jeez . . .” she moaned. “So full . . . Ah . . . Ah’m so full . . .” Once again, she let out an impressive belch. This helped relieve some of the pressure in her belly. She sighed in content, continuing to pat and rub her belly. At long last, she was satisfied, and her eyes began to droop. Stuffing herself like a pig had certainly been exhausting, leaving the overstuffed, bloated filly feeling quite tired. She was so stuffed that all she wanted to do was lie there, not move, not that she could anyway.

She rolled over onto her side, smiling to herself, feeling and hearing the contents of her stomach sloshing. After a long night of binge eating and drinking, she finally allowed sleep to overtake her.

***

Applejack awoke early the following morning as she always did. She slipped out of bed, started up the coffeemaker, showered, and then, the coffee having been effectually heated up during her shower, fixed herself a hot mug of coffee, mixing in sugar and milk, just how she liked it. Then, taking a sip of her coffee, she stepped outside to the front porch and took a seat on the front porch steps, silently drinking her coffee while she watched the sun come up over the horizon, just like she did every morning. She licked her lips, enjoying the sweetness of the coffee. It always did a spectacular job of helping wake her up in the morning, though the hot shower did that just as effectively.

She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the warmth of the sun hit her full in the face. The first rays of sun was always a nice feeling during the first moments of the morning. It was as if Celestia herself were giving her a kiss good morning, greeting her with a new day.

For the longest time, Applejack sat, drinking her coffee, while the sun continued to make its ascent, watching as the animals around the barn began to rouse from their slumber. The chickens, cows, and pigs began to go about their business. The cows grazed, the pigs rolled around in the mud, and the chickens pecked at the hay that filled their hen house, at least until Applejack came to feed them, just as she did every morning.

She sighed. As much as she hated it, she knew that there was work to be done. Just as she hated doing every morning, she got up, having finished her coffee, and retreated to the farmhouse, stepping into the kitchen to get started on breakfast. While waiting for the burners to get heated up, she stepped outside and fed the chickens and pigs. The cows would be fine. There was no need to worry about them. They had plenty of grass and hay to munch on. Once all of that was done, she went back in the farmhouse and began cooking breakfast, the burners having been properly heated up at this point.

As he usually did in the mornings, Big Mac stumbled into the kitchen, his face making him look as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep. He fixed himself a mug of coffee, momentarily stepping out to the front porch to fetch the morning paper. Then he sat at the table, reading the paper, occasionally taking sips of his coffee, trading a look with Applejack once or twice. Other than the sound of her cooking and him drinking his coffee, followed by the rustling of the newspaper as he turned a page thereafter, there was very little noise to be heard in the farmhouse on most mornings, which Applejack loved since it gave her some time to herself, a chance to think, to not worry about the chores or the harvest or baking or the sales or the farm or any of that junk. She could just be alone with her thoughts, which was always nice, especially on peaceful mornings such as this.

This silence was broken, however, whenever Applejack would bellow, “Breakfast!” at the top of her lungs, and soon the two siblings could hear their youngest sibling, Apple Bloom, come eagerly running down the stairs as if the house was on fire, excitedly taking a seat at the table, and begin chowing down with the rest of them before heading off to school or, if it was during the summer or a break from school, to play with her friends. Unfortunately, on this morning, when Applejack called up the stairs that it was time for breakfast, they heard no such noise, no hooves running down the stairs, no vocal response, aside from Granny Smith calling back, “Ah’m a-comin’!”

“Apple Bloom, did ya hear me?” Applejack called, cupping a hoof over her mouth to ensure that she was heard. She received no response. “Apple Bloom?” Maybe if she called louder. “Apple Bloom!?” Still, silence met her ears. She growled and stomped a hoof. “Apple Bloom, y’all had best get down here and eat yer breakfast before it gets cold! Come on, now, ya can’t sleep all summer!” Silence yet again. “Alright, Ah’m comin’ up!” She began walking up the stairs. “Either get outta bed or Ah’m gonna drag you out.” She reached Apple Bloom’s door. “Ya hear me?” As she pushed it open, she was met with Apple Bloom’s bed, but no Apple Bloom. She looked around. “Apple Bloom?”

Apple Bloom was nowhere to be found. She looked all around the room, including the closet and under the bed, but didn’t find her there either. She hurried down the stairs and entered the kitchen to see Big Mac and Granny having already begun to eat. “Have y’all seen Apple Bloom this morning? She’s not in ’er room.”

“Can’t say I have,” Granny Smith replied.

“Nope,” Big Mac said, standing up and walking towards Applejack. Stopping beside her and putting a comforting hoof on her shoulder, he said, “Come on, Ah’ll help ya look. You know Apple Bloom. She’s probably around here somewhere. She couldn’t have gotten too far.”

The two of them began their search walking alongside each other, not speaking. They thoroughly checked Apple Bloom’s bedroom, followed by the rest of the house, looking in every nook and cranny that the filly could possibly be hiding. She was nowhere in the house, forcing them to venture outside and resume their search. Alas, she was nowhere around the house, nor the barn. Just like with the house, they checked everywhere within the barn for any sign of their little sister, only to come up short.

Having no other options left open to her, Applejack finally checked the cellar, only to stop in mid-step in shock upon discovering something big, round, and yellow down below. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. “Big Mac,” she called, “Ah think Ah found ’er!”