Heavy Hardships of the Head Organizer
Or, Hardships of a Heavy Head Organizer
A lanyard hung from Twilight’s neck, the laminated badge on the end bouncing off her thick chest as she walked. Grand Galloping Gala — Head Organizer — Twilight Sparkle (Princess), it read.
“Organize the Gala by yourself,” Twilight muttered under her breath. “Great idea, Twilight. Earn some respect from everypony in Canterlot. Ha! Next time, I’ll just model a Princess Dress for Rarity again, or publish a book, or—Huh, what’s that?”
A shadow flitted across the very edge of Twilight’s vision. But when she turned to look, nothing was there: just a pristine white hall of Canterlot Castle, lit by the mid-morning Sun. “Hmmm…” She was alone for the moment, but this was already the third time this morning that she could have sworn she’d seen somepony in the corner of her eye. It must be the stress, she thought.
Then a growl came from her stomach—the sound of her second breakfast digesting—loud enough to echo through the otherwise-empty hall. “Oh, quiet, you!” she said, as she continued on her way.
Second breakfast was an excess that Twilight very rarely indulged in, but this morning, she couldn’t help herself. Her solo flight all the way from Ponyville to Canterlot had left her particularly hungry, so that stack of waffles at her parents’ house certainly hit the spot. Twilight knew she’d regret it later—or at least her waistline would—but for now she was happy.
She could afford to indulge like this if her eating habits were otherwise more reasonable, but alas…
“Good morning, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight started in response, as a pony emerged from the side hallway just ahead. His form was concealed slightly by a cape, darker than his own night-blue coat, but there was no mistaking that proud male body, that rugged face, or that black crown. This was Prince Artemis. “You’re looking… healthy,” he continued.
“Prince Artemis!” Twilight dropped into a hasty bow on pure reflex—only to find herself stopped halfway. Her belly, thickened with several inches of pudge and filled with that second breakfast, plopped onto the marble floor—squishing out to the side slightly as it prevented her from bowing all the way. “Huh?” Startled again, Twilight lost her hoof-grip on the marble floor, and found herself laying on the cushion of her gut, with her wide haunches jiggling from the landing and all four legs splayed out to the sides.
If there were any doubt in Twilight’s mind, it would have been dashed in an instant: she’d let herself get fat. She blushed, partly from the bungled bow, and partly at the too-late realization that, as fellow royalty, she didn’t actually need to bow to the Prince.
Thankfully, Artemis spoke without a hint of reproach in his voice: “And might I ask what plans you have for today? You’ve been keeping yourself busy...”
Twilight forced a big smile onto her lips as she replied, “More preparations for the upcoming Gala, of course.” She tried to stand back up, but her hooves slipped again on the floor, which just made her chub jiggle some more. “I was just on my way…” She planted her hooves and pushed once more. “...to meet with the food vendors…” She fell again onto her belly. “...for the Gala.”
Prince Artemis extended one silver-shod forehoof for support, which Twilight immediately accepted. With his help, she finally stood back up, and her round belly and thick backside took a few seconds longer to stop moving. Twilight blushed again, as she felt the Prince’s eyes dart up and down the round curves of her body—a few feet shorter than him, yet nearly matching his weight.
“Food vendors, hm?” Artemis asked with a tilted brow and the hint of a smile on his lips. “Forgive me, but you look like you’ve already met them. Or have you been taking breakfast all morning?”
“Well, actually—” And Twilight’s overfed stomach let loose another short rumble, cutting off her reply. Her blush deepened, and before she could speak again, the Prince cut in.
“I suppose not, then,” he said. “Lead the way to this food vendor meeting, Twilight. I wish to see how well you’re taking to this, and perhaps we can speak over lunch.”
“That sounds wonderful, Pr... I mean, Artemis. This way!” Twilight pointed down the hall with one wing—the only part of her body that wasn’t thick and soft. If anything, her wings had grown stronger while the rest of Twilight grew fatter—the only reason she could still fly under her own power. Twilight resumed trotting, her thick gut swaying back and forth as she went. Her soft, round haunches squished against that belly with every step. Her star cutie marks, stretched a few inches larger than usual thanks to her recent gains, bounced slightly as Twilight went.
Prince Artemis fell into place at her side—his hard, lean body a marked contrast to her own. Twilight continued, “Since you’re wondering about the Gala preparations, they’re fine! Everything’s fine.” She stole a glance over, taking in the lithe muscles of Artemis’s legs and the proud curve of his neck. “We’re maaaaybe a teensy, tiny bit behind my original schedule, but by meeting with all the prospective food vendors today, I’ll get everything back on track!”
“Most encouraging,” Artemis said. “You certainly have a gift for organization, Twilight.”
Twilight wanted to swoon, but somehow forced herself to keep walking.
“But how are you holding up, personally?” Artemis continued. “From all I’ve seen, setting up the Grand Galloping Gala has become quite the stressful affair in recent decades. Are you certain it’s not too much burden for one mare, even one of your considerable talent? Are you sleeping well? Eating well?”
Just two days ago, in the midst of heated negotiations with the florists, Twilight had confessed to Spike that another fight with Tirek was beginning to look preferable to any further Gala preparations.
“No problem!” Twilight said. “No problem at all. It’s definitely not too stressful.”
And, of course, all that stress (that Twilight definitely wasn’t under) had led to stress-eating. Twilight had never been a thin pony, but as a unicorn she’d at least been fit enough to put up a respectable show at Ponyville’s Running of the Leaves. But ever since her coronation, the stress of being Princess of Friendship had gone straight to her belly and hips—and now the Gala preparations were multiplying those gains.
“I certainly don’t regret convincing you and Princess Celestia to let me organize this all by myself!” Twilight added.
“It took less convincing than you think, Twilight. You consistently reward our faith in you, so ’twas only natural to entrust this responsibility to you.”
Again, Twilight wanted to swoon, but another rumble from her stomach brought her back to reality.
Artemis smirked. “But you do no good to Equestria if you perish of starvation. We simply must get you to lunch, with all haste.”
“Well, um...” Twilight’s eyes darted back and forth as she searched for the right phrasing. “I would love to talk over lunch… but can we postpone until this afternoon?” Or at least sometime when I’m not so stuffed, she thought. “I really need to do this meeting right away. I’ve got over a dozen bakers and caterers from all over Equestria competing for the Gala contract—and all of them brought food samples. So I need to try those while they’re still fresh.”
“Very well, then. I defer to your expertise.” Artemis slipped into place behind Twilight, allowing a few servants to pass by. Quite a few, in fact—walking side-by-side, the two royalty had created a minor traffic jam, since Twilight was not exactly quick on her hooves anymore. “So, a dozen bakers, is it? An ironic number.”
“Ha! I guess so.” Twilight glanced back, and thought she saw the Prince looking straight at her rump. But when she blinked, he was instead making eye contact with her. She continued, “What if I got thirteen bakers? Do you think that’d be more lucky or less?”
“You shall have to test that, next year.”
“And here we are!”
Twilight passed through a set of double doors into the castle’s auxiliary dining hall, Artemis following close behind. Inside, the chamber had been converted to an impromptu industry trade show, as each catering company had a table to proudly display their products. Twilight’s eyes widened at the sight. She came to a stop—and Artemis walked right into her backside, her body shaking at the impact of his firm chest against her soft rump.
“Oops,” Artemis said, backing away a few steps. “So, Twilight, how do you plan on choosing?”
“I’m so glad you asked!” Twilight spun around as quickly has her hefty frame would allow, her belly wobbling for several seconds after she came to a stop. She produced a large scroll and unrolled it, revealing a spreadsheet as full of data as its owner was full of waffles. “I’m comparing all the caterers across several variables, like price, variety of food available, ease of communication (in case of last-minute changes or emergencies), and so forth. Once I have those numerically quantified, I can plug all those data into my own equation to mathematically prove which of them is the ideal Gala caterer!”
Twilight turned once more towards the tables and tables of food. “I just need the data for one more variable.”
“And that variable would be?” Artemis asked.
“Taste!” Twilight answered.
Artemis took a deep breath. “You intend to taste test all of them?” He stepped up to Twilight’s side again and gazed forward at the bounty spread out before them.
The dozen-plus caterers had apparently labored under the assumption that they’d each be the only one meeting with Twilight, because every single one had brought an entire meal’s worth of food, or more. They intended to provide Gala guests with a wide variety of snacks and desserts, and their decadent spreads included multiples of each and every one. Testing just one of every item offered by every vendor would easily total more than a hundred treats—more than Twilight could eat in a day, let alone in just a few hours.
I may have made a mistake, Twilight thought. Her stomach punctuated that by grumbling once again; like the rest of her, it hadn’t taken well to all this movement.
Artemis rolled his eyes. “It’s poor form to taste test on an empty stomach,” he chided, while his horn flared. A large jelly doughnut lifted off the closest table and hovered over to Twilight’s face. “Deal with your hunger first, and then we should begin.”
“No, actually, I…”
“Oh, of course! How foolish of me!” Artemis gave his forehead a theatrical slap. “You don’t want to bias your results! Well, I can fix that…” He picked up more pastries, one from every table this time: danishes, cream horns, sweet rolls, and slices of cake and pie. Half of these, along with the original doughnut, he compressed with his magic into one enormous conglomerate of bread and sugar, in a vaguely cylindrical shape.
Twilight looked with open-jawed horror at that carbohydrate bomb—and Artemis took that as an invitation to shove the end into her mouth. “Mmmrph!” she said, then began chewing. The remainder of the treats hovered around her head, an entire third breakfast held aloft by Artemis’s magic.
Twilight glanced over at Artemis, who was eating a single, much smaller doughnut himself, and smiling warmly back at her. She glanced at the baked goods hovering around her, and then down at the oversized pastry in her mouth. The blush returned to her cheeks once more as she realized just how suggestive its cylindrical shape was.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Twilight, she thought. It’s just a coincidence. Prince Artemis definitely didn’t mean anything like that.
Then she bit down and tasted the pastry filling—a decadent mix of whipped cream, fruit jelly, and cake frosting—pour into her mouth. Glancing around nervously, she chewed faster, to remove the embarrassing snack from sight as quickly as possible. Her already-chubby cheeks grew thicker as the pastry completely filled her mouth. She swallowed, each mouthful a visible lump traveling down her neck. Finally, she gulped down the last of it.
“I—” she began, then a doughnut rushed into her open mouth, followed by a few more, cutting her off.
“You what, Twilight?” Artemis smiled softly. “You want more? Dear me, you certainly do have an appetite, but it would be rude to refuse a Princess...”
Resigning herself to her third meal of the morning, Twilight’s thoughts turned to what she should do next. There is definitely way too much food at this meeting for one pony to test, she thought. Maybe… I can delegate! Get a bunch of palace staff to sample a smaller number of items, statistically cross-reference their preferences, and use that to work it down to a hoofful of choices, so I can decide from those.
Artemis stuffed several cookies into Twilight’s mouth, and followed that with two brownies. Her gut gurgled again, but in a much deeper and overfilled tone—the food inside muffling it now. At last, Twilight swallowed the last of her impromptu meal, and was able to relax. But as she stood there, panting, Artemis stepped around, nearly brushing against her belly—which was an inch or two wider than it had been just minutes ago.
I can still make this work! Twilight thought. I just need fifteen minutes to find and organize my assistants, and then I’ll easily—
“I hope you’re satisfied then, Twilight,” Artemis said. “And we can begin! It would be rude to keep all these caterers you invited waiting... and equally rude to not accept their offerings...”
He leaned down, smiling at her—an almost rakish grin. “Every. Single. One.”
“Oh.” So much for that plan. One does not disregard an order from the Prince! Twilight reflected—completely forgetting that she, too, was royalty, and had every legal right to tell the Prince to take his order and shove it. “Yes, of course!” she said.
As she made her way to the first table, she was already finding it slightly harder to trot. With her overstuffed belly bulging out wider than before, the insides of her legs brushed against its wobbling sides with every step.
“Of course,” Twilight said, “Normally a taste-testing job like this would require twenty or thirty testers...”
Artemis just raised an eyebrow at Twilight, his expression inscrutable to her.
Twilight’s ears folded back. “...But, but, I decided I can’t properly compare these foods unless the tester actually tests everything. And I know I can be objective about this.”
“And you certainly have the first-hoof knowledge of the subject, as well.” Artemis smiled as he gave Twilight’s belly a playful prod with one forehoof. At least, Twilight was reasonably sure it was playful.
They arrived at the first table. “Still,” Twilight said, “taste can be subjective. Our data would be much more reliable with more than one taste-tester. And since you’re here, Prince Artemis... can you help?”
Artemis blinked, as if taken aback. “What?”
“Please?” Twilight leaned forward and gave the Prince her best puppy-dog eyes. “I want this Gala to be perfect, so it would mean a lot to me if you could help me make sure I pick the perfect caterer.”
Artemis pursed his lips slightly as he considered. “Very well, then. I am at your service, Princess.”
“Thank you so much.” Twilight turned back to the table, grabbed plates for both herself and Artemis, then reached for a serving tray of sugar cookies—only for the caterer to swat it out of her grasp.
“Sorry, ma’am,” said the caterer—a sour-faced pegasus mare. “We’re not supposed to give this food to anypony without the Head Gala Organizer’s say-so.”
Twilight gave her a glare hard enough to drill through granite, then levitated her badge in front of the mare’s face. Out of sight, she reopened her spreadsheet and gave this particular candidate a “-10” in the “Miscellaneous” column.
The caterer’s demeanor changed in an instant. “Oh, of course! Help yourself, Princess Sparkle!”
Her appetite diminished even further, Twilight only took one sugar cookie—while Artemis picked up twenty. But when she bit into hers, Twilight found her mood lifted somewhat; it was delicious.
Then Artemis took one bite of his. “Hmm. Peasant food,” he said—then dumped the uneaten portion, and the nineteen others he hadn’t even touched, onto Twilight’s plate.
“Wha…?” Twilight looked at her plate, then at Artemis. (She only briefly glanced at utterly crushed expression on the caterer’s face.)
But the Prince moved on to the next snack, grabbing an entire tray of brownies. “Acceptable, but not fit for the castle,” he said, after a single bite. And he dumped the rest of the brownies onto Twilight’s plate, as well. At last noticing her surprise, he grabbed several cookies and brownies and shoved them into her mouth. “Don’t let these go to waste, Twilight.”
“Hrrmmm…” Twilight dutifully chewed and swallowed, and went to work scooping the rest into her mouth. Mentally writing this particular caterer off as a loss, she set off for the next table. Her whole body wobbled as she shuffled along, still munching on the cookies and brownies.
Behind the next table was someone she recognized. “Hiya, Princess Twi,” Doughnut Joe said, a big grin on his face. “And Prince Artemis. Got a real special spread this morning—I think you’ll really enjoy it.”
“Thank you.” Twilight took a glazed cake doughnut. “Mmmm… better than I remembered!”
Artemis picked up one of every doughnut variety—over a dozen in all. He just sniffed at them before pronouncing his judgement: “Passable.” Then the doughnuts were shoved onto Twilight’s plate.
Doughnut Joe appeared to be on the brink of tears.
“No, no, he didn’t mean it like that!” Twilight leaned closer. “Prince Artemis just has very… um, particular tastes. He doesn’t mean your doughnuts are bad, per se. I still love them.” She grabbed seven more and added them to the stacks already on her plate. “See?” One of them—a grape jelly doughnut—she stuffed into her mouth. “Mmmmmm…”
As she chewed, grape jelly spurted out the end, spattering across Doughnut Joe’s face.
Twilight swallowed. “Sorry…”
“Quickly, Twilight—no more time for palaver,” Artemis cut in, while shoving a cinnamon twist doughnut between Twilight’s lips. “With how much you want to eat, we’ll be here all day if you don’t step up the pace.” He paused to wipe the jelly off Doughnut Joe’s face with a simple glazed doughnut—and that, too, went into Twilight’s mouth.
“Hhrrm!” she tried to protest, her cheeks bulging even further with pastry and jelly. Nevertheless, she wrote down Doughnut Joe’s score on her spreadsheet, then followed Artemis over to the next table, gulping down more doughnuts as she went. Her belly groaned and rumbled; it visibly swelled with every mouthful she swallowed. Already, just a few feet separated that thick gut from the floor; as it swayed back and forth with her shuffle, it swung a little lower each time.
This time, Artemis reached the next table before Twilight. Just like before, he grabbed nine cheese danishes, took a single bite, delivered his opinion—“Not terrible”—then left his massive uneaten portion for Twilight. This time, Twilight started eating them quickly enough to spare herself the indignity of the Prince force-feeding her, again. As thick lumps of pastry and cheese filling slid down her throat to fill her belly even larger, Twilight studied her plate. She still had untouched cookies and brownies from that first caterer—Prince Artemis was piling snacks onto her plate faster than she could eat them.
“You take well to weight, Twilight,” Artemis said.
What?! Twilight thought, nearly spitting out her food.
The Prince continued, with a slight smile on his lips, “I remember an age when that was in fashion. The weight of a mare was attached to her status and the wealth of their husband... Only the fattest could hope to court the higher nobility.”
Twilight gulped down her current mouthful, and felt her waistline swell another inch. “Um, thank you?” she said in between heavy breaths.
What an odd thing to say, she thought. I guess the Prince still hasn’t quite adjusted to the modern day.
Twilight continued, “I guess it goes to show how beauty standards tie into societal inequality, huh?”
Artemis’s smile fell, and his brows furrowed. “I… don’t follow.”
Twilight bit off half of a danish. “Well, a thousand years ago, only the rich could afford to get fat, so big was beautiful. These days, fatty foods are cheap, so anyone can gain weight. But only the financially stable have enough free time to worry about their weight, and only the richest can afford personal fitness trainers and diet coaches and such—so thin is in. Either way, the ideal of female beauty is whatever the upper crust has and the lower class doesn’t.”
“Huh…”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “I, uh, I’m not implying that you or Princess Celestia are responsible! It’s just this whole societal… thing. Far bigger than any one pony, even royalty. Just like, no individual raindrop is responsible for a flood—I’m gonna stop talking now.” She scarfed down a whole danish, causing her blushing cheeks to bulge out once more. Her belly punctuated that with another deep grumble.
“Nay, fret not,” Artemis replied. “That is a perspective I had never considered. But there is an undeniable logic to your argument. Quite commendable, Twilight!”
Twilight beamed.
“You should reward yourself!” Artemis grabbed six cherry turnovers and forced them between Twilight’s lips, one after the other. “My, if merely snacking on such foods inspires you to insights like these, Princess, imagine if you ate like this all the time…” He stuffed a few more turnovers into her face for good measure.
Twilight tried to thank him, through cheeks utterly packed with dessert, but all that came out was “Mmfff mrrmmm…”
Artemis then lowered his head and leaned closer. “So, Twilight, from your theory that the idealization of thinness is a means of enforcing inequality in our current economic climate… would encouraging fatness be a means of spreading equality?” Without waiting for a reply, he stood tall and trotted for the next table.
Twilight swallowed again—and as her stomach bulged out a few inches more, she felt its lowermost curve brush against the marble floor below. “I… suppose?” she answered, as she trotted after the Prince. “Although I’m not sure how one could get that to catch on. I do know a lot of mares who’d enjoy never needing to exercise, so that’s a start, haha!”
“Indeed.” Artemis held another danish up to Twilight’s face, and she accepted.
Meanwhile, the act of moving to the next table seemed to be exercise enough for Twilight. Her walk had become a waddle, her ponderous belly swaying from side to side—rubbing against the floor at the bottom of each swing, which made that round, purple mass jiggle even more. It bulged more than a foot out on each side; with every step Twilight took, she had to press one of her legs into that belly’s soft curves, squishing several inches deep. All the while, she dutifully recorded more data on her spreadsheet.
At the next table, Artemis picked up an entire tray of orange sweet rolls. He levitated one up to his own face—and started forcing the rest into Twilight’s mouth, before she could even try to pick any up herself. “Hhrrmph!” Once again, her cheeks puffed out with desserts, while the rest of the rolls hovered around her head, awaiting their turn to disappear down her throat. Every mouthful she swallowed was a thick bulge in her neck, which rushed down to fill her stomach even larger.
Artemis, meanwhile, took a dainty nibble from his own sweet roll and announced, “Fair.”
“Hhhmmm?” Furrowing her brows and shaking her head, Twilight rapidly gulped down the last of the orange rolls. “With all due respect, Prince Artemis, that sort of input isn’t very helpful.” She stamped once, her hoof striking the floor harder than she intended—her whole body wobbled at the impact, and her stomach gave another groan. Twilight unfurled her spreadsheet once again, and held it up to Artemis. “I need more details, or at the very least, some kind of numerical measurement.”
Artemis smiled wryly. “Numerical measurement?”
“Yes! Like on a scale of one to ten, would you—Mmrrph!” Twilight was cut off by a flying cinnamon roll suddenly forcing itself between her lips.
“One,” Artemis said. Then he grabbed ten more in his telekinesis. “Ten!” Those cinnamon rolls quickly joined their brother inside Twilight’s mouth.
“Mmmrph!”
“Of course,” the Prince continued, “doesn’t a larger numerical scale allow for more precise measurements? Instead of one to ten, say… one to twenty?” He grabbed ten more rolls and shoved them into Twilight’s mouth. “Or maybe one to fifty?” Thirty more rolls began disappearing down her throat, one after another.
“Mrrrhhh…” Twilight’s stomach grew even more, as she chewed and swallowed those desserts. That belly hung low enough to rest solidly on the floor, and begin squishing out to the side, bulging around her legs as the sweet rolls filled it larger and larger.
Artemis turned to the tray of pecan rolls. “Now, on a scale of one…” He fed a single roll to Twilight. “...to one hundred…”
A hundred pecan rolls hovered around Twilight’s head. She had just enough time to whimper, before they started forcing themselves into their mouth.
Heedless of Twilight’s muffled protests, Artemis turned to the caterer. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “All of these desserts are excellent.”
The caterer just nodded numbly, her wide eyes darting back and forth from Artemis to Twilight, still gulping down roll after roll.
Artemis then leaned back towards Twilight. “Shall I record that on your spreadsheet, or can you manage?”
“Hrrmmhhrmm!” Twilight nodded and wrote down on her scroll—and her consumption of pecan rolls continued without pause. She chewed and swallowed, one roll after another, while her pen flew across the spreadsheet.
Reaching with one forehoof, Artemis cupped one of Twilight’s fat, dessert-packed cheeks—which blushed at his touch, even more brightly than before. “This numerical scale is such a wonderful idea, Twilight. That’s why it’s so good to have somepony like you organizing the Gala. Somepony with first-hoof experience with huge quantities of food. Somepony who just loves to eat.”
Not waiting for a reply, he set off for the next table.
Her face burning, Twilight finally gulped down the last of the rolls. “So g—” Another loud rumble from her stomach cut her off, and Twilight burped. “Sorry. As I was saying, I’m glad I’m living up to your expectations!” She followed Artemis, breathing heavily and moving even more slowly than before. Her huge belly dragged on the marble as she went, shaking and wobbling as her legs squeezed into its sides with every step.
The next vendors—a husband-and-wife duo of pegasus bakers—shook in their hooves and clung to each other, as the Prince and the enormous Princess approached their array of pies and cakes.
“Twilight Sparkle,” Artemis said, as he stopped before the bakers’s spread, “you truly are a mare of remarkable potential. Your capacity for greatness and hunger for knowledge are unmatched.” He turned back towards Twilight, as she waddled up to him. “It’s no wonder your stature,”—he prodded her huge, still-wobbling belly—“has grown so much in recent years.”
“Um… thanks?” What the crud? Twilight thought. Is he complimenting me, or making fun of my weight?
“I dare say you’re heavier than Celestia when she was your age.” The Prince leaned closer and gave Twilight a wink. “You should ask her about that some time...”
Twilight stared ahead, wide-eyed. I could have gone my whole life without imagining Princess Celestia as a fat twenty-something-year-old, she thought.
In her daze, Twilight dropped her plate of not-yet-eaten snacks, but Artemis caught it just a few inches above the floor. Glancing between the plate and Twilight, he furrowed his brow and said “Hmmm…” Artemis deposited the plate on the nearby table, then grabbed a slice of apple pie. “You seem to be slowing somewhat, Princess. You’re not thinking of cutting short this important meeting, are you?”
Twilight shook her head. “No, no, of course—Mmph!” The apple pie forced its way into her mouth.
“You’re not thinking of leaving this job unfinished because you’ve already eaten enough, hmm?”
Twilight shook her head, jiggling her stuffed cheeks with the motion. The Prince responded by shoving a slice of blueberry pie into her face. “Mmrrph!”
“I dare say, if you keep this up, you’ll be completely unable to move tomorrow. That doesn’t make you want to quit, does it?”
Twilight shook her head even harder, enough to make her whole body wobble, all the way to her rump. For that, she got a slice of boysenberry pie stuffed into her, bulging her cheeks out even further. “Hhrrrmmm…”
“You want to finish this? You need to finish this, don’t you, Princess?”
Twilight nodded, wobbling once again, and Artemis forced a slice of snozzberry pie into her mouth before she even finished. Her belly swelled even wider beneath her, spreading another inch across the floor and bulging around the sides of her legs.
“Because you’re just… so… hungry, aren’t you?”
“Mmrrmm?” Twilight tilted an eyebrow—and her stomach chose that moment to growl again, protesting the absurd amount of food it had already been forced to contain. But the Prince apparently took that as an invitation to stuff some zalaberry pie into her face. “Mmrrrr…”
“It’s so good to hear that, Twilight.” Then Artemis held a hoof up to his own face, proclaiming, “Oh, dear, it seems we forgot something!” He grabbed a canister of sprayable whipped cream, adjacent to the pie display. “Pies like this are supposed to be served with a topping of whipped cream. How can we properly judge them without it?”
Twilight swallowed her last mouthful of pie, just in time to say, “Actually, that’s fine, I’ll—Mmmph!” Artemis shoved the whipped cream can into Twilight’s open mouth, then two more, a second later. Delicious, foamy cream sprayed out of all three nozzles, directly down Twilight’s throat. “Hhhrrm! Mmmnnph!” she tried to protest as she drank every drop down. Her overstuffed gut expanded larger and larger, forcing Twilight to widen her stance just to keep her hooves on the floor. Already, she was twice as wide as Artemis himself, and every mouthful of cream she gulped down added a few more inches to that gut.
When all three cans had been completely emptied into Twilight’s bloated belly, Artemis said, “Much better, yes? Now, what of the cakes?” He took a knife and cut out a slice from the nearest cake: lemon, with vanilla frosting. Then he passed the serving platter with the entire rest of the cake to Twilight. “You like lemon cake, don’t you? Or do you prefer chocolate?” He dumped a rich chocolate cake atop the lemon one. “Carrot cake? Spice cake?” Both of those, he heaped onto Twilight’s platter as well.
Twilight boggled at the four-cake pile on her plate—her stomach rumbling once more just at the sight—then looked back at Artemis with those same wide eyes.
“Of course!” Artemis said. “Your favorite is all of them.” With a quick flare of his horn, he mashed all four cakes together, and shoved their combined mass into Twilight’s face.
“Mmrrph! Hrrmhhrr!” Twilight cried out as the sweet dough and gooey frosting invaded her mouth. The conglomerated cakestrosity was several times larger than her head, so it deformed under Artemis’s telekinetic grip as mouthful after mouthful forced its way past her lips. Bits that wouldn’t fit into her mouth instead dripped onto her chubby chest, or spread over her muzzle—smearing her cheeks with crumbs and gobs of frosting.
“Mmrrhrrr!” Twilight swallowed again and again; lump after lump of cake slid down her neck to make the huge mass in her gut even larger. And that gut wasn’t the only part of her growing, now. The mind-boggling mass of food in Twilight’s stomach had pushed her digestion into a frenzy, and the first fat deposits had already appeared all over her body. Her haunches grew thicker, and rounder; her rump was almost twice as wide as a normal pony’s. The sleeves of chub already on her legs gained a few inches, squishing back against the continued growth of her overfilled belly. Her cheeks, already stuffed with cake, pudged out even further. Even her neck thickened, while her chest flab pushed her lanyard and Head Gala Organizer badge forward, inch after inch.
As the last of the mashed-up cake mess finally disappeared between Twilight’s lips, Artemis took a bite from his one slice of lemon cake. “Hmm… This is quite good. But something is missing…” He grabbed a decorative icing bag, almost as large as the cake mass Twilight had just consumed. “It needs more frosting.”
Twilight’s eyes widened—but before she could even say anything, the nozzle rammed into her mouth, and Artemis gave the bag a mighty squeeze. Twilight hadn’t quite finished gulping down the rest of the cake, and this thick, creamy vanilla frosting filled the rest of her mouth almost instantly. Another squeeze, and frosting stuffed her cheeks almost to the size of her head. A third squeeze, and some of that white, sugary goodness spilled out the side of her mouth, clinging to her chin.
The two bakers just stared in horror, as the Prince pumped more and more of their frosting down the Princess’s throat. “Honey,” the stallion whispered to his wife, “should we do something? Make this stop?”
“Probably not,” she whispered back. “I think this is Droit du Seigneur… or maybe noblesse oblige.”
Twilight gave a muffled whimper through flow of frosting, still pouring into her. Larger and larger she swelled all over—her shoulders growing rounder and softer, her rump bouncing as it fattened. When she gulped down the frosting, it formed large enough bulges in her already-thick neck to stretch the lanyard with every swallow. And the largest of all was still her belly—not just spreading out to the side now, but up as well. That huge gut brushed against the leading edge of her wings and made her spine arch slightly, as it expanded ever larger.
There were only a few mouthfuls left in the icing bag. Artemis squeezed again, twice as hard as before—and the bag popped. White frosting sprayed forward, splattering across her cheeks, forehead, ears, and mane—adding to the mess the cake had already made, until Twilight’s face looked more white than purple.
Artemis tut-tutted. “My, my, Twilight,” he said. “What a messy eater you are. So eager to devour your food, you’ve forgotten all your manners!”
“Ummph… shorry?” Twilight said, through her mouthful of frosting. Thick gobs of it dripped off her thick, wobbling cheeks and onto her fat chest, and the front of her belly.
“Although, as a Princess, I suppose you’ve earned the right to… disregard certain rules when they become too restrictive.” Artemis picked up his sole slice of cake, and began rubbing it across Twilight’s face, wiping up all the frosting and crumbs. “As leaders of ponies, the royalty define the rules of decorum, do we not?” Twilight’s fat face jiggled as the cake slid back and forth across it—then the cake went lower, removing the mess from her thick chest.
Finally, the crumbs and frosting were gone. Twilight was clean again—but instead of purple, her face was bright red. Artemis lifted a forehoof and gently cupped one of her chubby cheeks. “So eat as messily as you’d like, Princess. I won’t judge.”
Twilight’s blush spread a little further—and then the Prince took that cake slice, laden with all the frosting he’d just wiped off her face, and shoved it into her mouth. “Thhmmm hhuurrm,” Twilight said, obediently chewing and swallowing.
“Now, come along! We mustn’t keep the others waiting.”
Twilight gulped down the cake, adding another few inches to her expansive waistline. “Bluhh… Urp!” she said, a little too dazed to walk at the moment. Then a sudden sensation from behind jolted her awake again. “Meep!”
Prince Artemis’s silver-shod forehooves were pressing on Twilight’s backside. “As they say, time is of the essence,” he said, as he pushed the overfed mare towards the next table.
Oh my gosh oh my gosh, Twilight thought, her eyes widening to the size of saucers as she slid across the room, as she felt the Prince’s hooves sink inches into the plush padding of her rump. This can’t be happening. No, no, Prince Artemis… isn’t! This is just... platonic. Like those times when Pinkie Pie or one of the other girls would give me a little shove if they thought I was walking too slow. It doesn’t mean anything!
“Come on now, Twilight,” Artemis chided, “you’ve been gorging for so long, the other vendors’ food is going to get cold!”
“Uh, um,” Twilight said, “then why are you pushing me towards the table with the ice cream?”
“Because that’s going to melt if you don’t eat it soon enough, of course. And it’s not really fair if you let that happen, is it?”
Artemis didn’t even break a sweat as he pushed Twilight; the obese princess glided across the room as easily as a cloud in the sky. Although she jiggled and shook more than any cloud—the food shifting inside her enormous, overstuffed belly, and her fat wobbling atop it. That blubber grew even thicker as Twilight continued digesting the oversized mass of dessert inside. Her haunches expanded, stretching her cutie mark larger than her own head. Her rump swelled against the Prince’s touch, allowing his hooves to squish deeper into those soft cheeks. And below all of that, squeezed between her and the floor, was that enormous belly. More than anything else, Twilight resembled a mare stuck atop a yoga ball, over-inflated with gelatin.
The next vendor, a stallion dressed as a waiter from an old-fashioned ice cream shop, boggled as the huge Princess slid towards him. “Umm… Help yourself, Your Highness?”
Prince Artemis leaned around her wide haunches and smirked. “Oh, she certainly intends to. Isn’t that right, Princess?” He gave Twilight’s rump a quick squeeze before shoving her those last few inches to the table.
That didn’t happen, Twilight though.
Her belly collided with the table, jostling all its contents. Gallon cartons of ice cream bounced a few inches; stacks of waffle cones tipped over. And a huge wooden keg of root beer—taller than Artemis, wider than Twilight—came unbalanced, tipping precariously towards Twilight.
“Eeep!” Twilight’s legs flailed against the floor as she scrambled backwards, away from the falling keg. Her limbs could barely reach around her huge belly anymore, and her hooves barely touched the floor, but that was just enough traction. Panic gave Twilight remarkable speed as she pushed herself away from danger, dragging that enormous, sloshing gut across the marble almost as quickly as Artemis had.
Artemis was fortunately out of her way. He had started to walk around Twilight; now he stood to the side, watching her ponderous backwards motion with a puzzled expression. “What in the—”
The root beer keg fell on Artemis’ head.
His head lowered, and his forelegs bent, but he didn’t fall. “Ouch,” he said. Then he flexed his legs and neck to stand tall once again—flinging the keg back the way it came.
The vendor screamed like a filly as the keg tipped over and landed directly atop him. The wooden barrel rolled away—with the unfortunate stallion stuck to its side, squashed flat as a sheet of paper, and blinking in surprise.
Twilight, meanwhile, scrambled backwards a few seconds longer, then bumped into something from behind—something hard and heavier than herself. The impact made her whole body jiggle once more, and Twilight’s eyes widened as she felt something smooth and cold slide between her rump cheeks. She had backed into the soft-serve ice cream machine—directly onto the nozzle.
A sudden swoosh and rustling of feathers drew Twilight’s attention forward again. Prince Artemis’s wings stuck straight out—his cape still fluttered in the air from those wings’ sudden unfurling—while he stared at Twilight with his mouth agape. “Princess Twilight…”
“Um…” Twilight replied.
Artemis shook his head, and slowly folded his wings back at his side. For once, it was his turn to blush—his rosy cheeks an attractive contrast to his dark face. “Twilight, you astound me… in the best possible way. Excellent idea.”
Artemis reached out with his magic and pulled the dispenser lever. The sudden, cold pressure from behind prompted another “Meep!” from Twilight: the machine was dispensing chocolate-vanilla-swirl ice cream, straight into her backside. Once again, her belly expanded, filling up with that sweet dairy treat. Twilight planted her hooves on the ground, intending to scramble forward, off that insidious nozzle. But Prince Artemis stepped forward and placed a hoof gently on Twilight’s chubby chest—barring her way completely.
“I knew you were a mare of remarkable tastes, Princess…” Artemis held up a waffle cone, as wide as a bowl, then snapped off the tip to make a hole in the bottom. “But your decadence has truly exceeded even my wildest expectations.”
“Really, this isn’t what it lo—Uummph!” The thin end of the waffle cone forced its way into Twilight’s mouth, cutting her reply short.
“What’s that, Princess? This isn’t enough?” Artemis’s eyes were intense; his smile was wide and unclean. “Of course it isn’t! Ice cream’s even better with the proper toppings!” He grabbed three metal jugs, each a few gallons. “Do you prefer chocolate, caramel, or butterscotch?”
Twilight whimpered and shook her head.
“All three it is, then!” He popped the lids off and tilted all three jugs—pouring streams of chocolate, caramel, and butterscotch straight into the waffle cone, which now served as an impromptu funnel. The sweet syrup flooded Twilight’s mouth, and she swallowed helplessly, pint after pint rushing down her throat to fill her stomach even more. That belly inflated in earnest now, as sugary liquids pumped into Twilight from both ends. The rest of her body fattened as well, particularly her rump—each cheek as wide as a normal pony, and squishing around the sides of the ice cream machine as they expanded even larger—but that stomach was still Twilight’s largest feature.
Twilight felt air beneath all four hooves. “Hhhnnnmm!” She flailed her flabby legs, trying to reach the floor again, but all that accomplished was squishing her hooves into the sides of her belly. That blubbery purple balloon was inflated large enough to strand Twilight atop it—and still it expanded even larger, filling with gallons of ice cream and syrup.
“You see, Twilight…” Artemis’s hoof traced down from Twilight’s chest, down to the great curve of her belly, squishing gently into that purple chub. “My era was a more… hedonistic time. Or at least one more open about embracing certain pleasures.” He pulled his hoof away from her belly, then slowly sauntered around Twilight’s expanding circumference—as he went, holding the jugs of syrup aloft with his magic to ensure they continued pouring down her throat.
“Back then,” he continued, “my sister and I both kept harems, of course—hers was even larger than mine, if you can believe it! And inviting one of the palace servants into our bedchambers was a simple sign of our good graces. But these days, one can’t even give the staff a playful spank”—He whipped one wing out and smacked Twilight’s bulging rump cheek, making her whole body jiggle and eliciting a muffled yelp from the inflating Princess—“without being accused of harassment. It’s a difficult adjustment to make, as you can imagine.”
“Hhrrrhhmm…” Twilight kicked her legs helplessly, as her great stomach lifted her higher and higher. It wobbled and shook with her every movement; it spread across the floor, inch by inch, as more liquid filled Twilight from front and behind. Likewise, inch after inch of soft, smooth fat grew over the rest of her body. Her shoulders grew wider and rounder; her legs were twice as thick as before. Even Twilight’s neck bulged out enough that the lanyard barely fit around anymore.
“But perhaps I don’t need to adjust too much,” Artemis continued. “I see signs that ponies are beginning to openly embrace self-indulgence again.” He had circled behind Twilight and now sauntered back to her front, brushing one wing along the side of her gut as he went—squishing his feathertips into that still-swelling purple flab. “Rumor has it that your sister-in-law is assembling a harem of her own in the Crystal Empire, with her husband’s blessing.”
“Mmrrhh?” Twilight’s belly had inflated enough to make her nearly as tall as Prince Artemis—and several times wider. And still she grew, filling with gallon after gallon of ice cream from behind and sweet chocolate, caramel, and butterscotch from in front.
Until, at last, the three syrup jugs finally ran dry.
Standing in front of Twilight once more, Artemis placed one hoof on the waffle cone, and gently pushed it into her mouth. Twilight accepted it; the cone crunched loudly as she chewed and swallowed.
“And you, Princess…” Artemis said, lifting up an oversized jug of whole milk—easily six gallons’ worth. “It’s obvious where your preferences lie: gluttony.”
Her ears folded back, Twilight simply opened her mouth, making no resistance as Artemis slid the jug’s opening between her lips, and began pouring. She drank, and drank, and drank—and the sheer weight of that thick, high-fat milk made it oh-so-easy to swallow. All the while, the ice cream continued pumping into her from behind; Twilight was filled from both ends with dozens of times her normal weight in dairy, with no end in sight.
“You truly are a remarkable mare, Princess Twilight,” the Prince said, leaning his whole body into the front of Twilight’s belly. “You have proved it just in the few years since you and your friends… I suppose you could say, saved me from myself.”
“Hhrrmm?” Twilight was taller than Artemis now, as she sprawled helplessly atop her overstuffed stomach—her pudgy legs spreading as that belly expanded ever wider between them. Gravity squished her hooves into the sides of her own stomach, and that gut pushed back as it filled with more ice cream and milk. Twilight expanded all over. Her swelling rump and inflating belly squished more firmly against the soft-serve machine, tipping it over a few degrees—but not enough to interrupt the flow of ice cream. Even her neck was too thick for the lanyard, which slowly frayed from the pressure, even as it squeezed into Twilight’s growing collar of fat.
“You’ve demonstrated noble character, and keen intelligence…” Artemis continued. He nuzzled Twilight’s belly—his face squishing into those oversized purple curves—and massaged it with one forehoof. The bloating mass of her gut jiggled even further at his touch, and rumbled as it grew further.
“...and substantial appetite.”
With a riiiiip, the lanyard tore in two and slid off Twilight’s thick neck. The badge tumbled down her oversized belly and fell to the floor—the last sign of Twilight’s crumbling authority, gone. No longer was she Head Gala Organizer; no longer was this a meeting to choose a caterer. This was a one-pony bacchanalia, and Twilight was just a receptacle for all this food—a purple balloon to fill larger and larger. And fill she did, as the milk and ice cream continued pumping into her.
“I’ve met many attractive mares, but never before one with your solidity, your sheer girth…”
Behind Twilight, the soft-serve dispenser sputtered, then shut off entirely. Its ice cream tanks had completely emptied into the overstuffed Princess. And not a moment too soon—the continued expansion of that purple belly and rump was enough to push over the ice cream machine, toppling it with a crash. With only the milk pouring down her throat, Twilight’s expansion continued, but more slowly than before.
“...your overwhelming stomach capacity…”
The marble floor cracked underneath Twilight’s gargantuan gut. Artemis reared back and planted his forehooves higher on that purple globe of a belly, so his face was once again level with Twilight’s. He tipped the milk jug a little further, ensuring the last gallon poured straight into her mouth.
When the milk jug completely emptied into Twilight, Atermis tossed it away and gave her belly a great squeeze. He concluded, “...and your unbridled love of eating.”
In response, Twilight’s stomach bubbled and rumbled deeply. Her cheeks puffed out, her eyes widened—and her mouth opened, releasing a mighty, “Braaaaaaaaaap!” The belch flew right into Artemis’s face, strong enough to blow his ethereal, starry mane backwards.
Yet again, Twilight blushed, while Artemis shook his head and regained his composure seconds later. He said, “Princess Twilight Sparkle, you are exactly the sort of mare I’ve been searching for. I want you to be my date for the Grand Galloping Gala.”
Twilight’s eyes widened again. All she could think was What?
The Prince continued, “You were a fair pony from the first day we met, and your beauty in my eyes has only grown in proportion to your stature.” He punctuated that by giving her belly another squeeze—his hooves sank into her flab, deep enough to completely cover his silver horseshoes.
Twilight’s train of thought was carrying one hundred passenger cars, every seat occupied by a miniature version of herself, each asking What?
“I can give you what you desire in return: a handsome stallion at your side… and access to the royal larders. All the food you can eat.”
Twilight’s train of thought suddenly derailed, flew off a cliff, and exploded at the bottom.
“Just say the word, and I’ll—”
“Pffffffhahahahaha! Hahahahahahaha!” Twilight’s guffaws bubbled up from deep inside her huge gut—her whole body shaking and jiggling with her mirth. “Hahahahaha!” She pressed her face into the shelf of her own belly, muffling her laughter slightly as she slapped that surface with one forehoof.
Under the barrage of Twilight’s laughter, Prince Artemis’s confident smile slowly fell. His ears flopped back, until he almost resembled one of the caterers he had so casually insulted shortly before. “What?” he asked. “Do you think I jest? Are you—”
“Hahaha… no, no, nothing like that!” Looking back up, Twilight held up one forehoof in a gesture of surrender, while the other went to her eyes and wiped away her tears of laughter. “I’m not laughing at you, Prince Artemis. At least, not laughing at you that much. It’s just, this is so crazy. All these years, I thought the reason I was single was because I needed to lose weight. I thought I was too fat for any stallion to be interested in me.”
She reached forward, holding Artemis’s cheek in her hoof. “But now, a stallion is asking me out—a handsome hunk of a stallion, if I say so myself… even if he is an anachronistic dork—” she removed her hoof from his face ruffled his mane instead, “—and it’s all because I gained weight. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“It… certainly seems that way?” Artemis answered, too unbalanced by this latest conversational turn to even brush his mane back into the proper shape.
“And my answer is yes,” Twilight said. “Yes, I’d love for you to be my date for the Gala. Maybe even more than that. But under two conditions.”
The Prince’s face brightened instantly. “Yes, of course! Anything for you.”
“First...” Twilight said, straightening up as much as she could in her position atop her own massive belly, “We need to work on our communication if this is going to last even a month. That means, if you want to feed me like this again, you first make very, very certain that I want it, too.”
“Oh, you mean…?” Artemis gulped. “Oops. I see…”
“And I need to come clean, as well. The Gala prep really isn’t going as smoothly as I told you earlier. I’m still on schedule, barely, but it’s stressful as Tartarus and I know it’s only going to get worse. Which brings me to my second condition. You know how I usually deal with stress?”
Twilight smirked and leaned forward, until her muzzle was just inches from Artemis’s. “I eat.” Another rumbled sounded from her belly, the loudest one yet. “And Artemis, I am very, very stressed right now. More than anything else in the world, I want a big, strong Prince to help me relax. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Artemis smiled, and held up an entire Key lime pie. Twilight smiled back—ignoring her belly’s grumbles of protest—and opened her mouth wide, to accept three slices at once.
“Well,” Artemis said, as he fed more slices into that eager maw, “since we have several caterers whose fine offerings we haven’t judged yet, why don’t we see to them, first? Then, if you’re still stressed, we can find a solution...”
Twilight nodded and moaned with pleasure, chewing and swallowing all the while. After the whole Key lime pie passed her lips, an entire rhubarb pie quickly followed it—and Twilight’s massive belly grew even further, lifting her higher and higher above the floor. She was now too tall to see eye-to-eye with Artemis—even with her sprawling limply across her gigantic gut, and him standing on his hind legs—and at least twice as wide. And still she grew more massive with every dessert she swallowed.
The caterers all stared at the Princess with wide eyes and open mouths. Some had expected the mare to give up long ago; others had thought she would simply explode. Both groups were now dumbstruck that she was still going, and could only wonder if she had any limits at all.
Artemis fed Twilight a meringue pie, and didn’t even wait for her to finish before he resumed pushing her to the next table. Or, at least he tried. He circled behind Twilight, took to the air, and pushed her enormous rump with all his considerable strength. But Twilight just jiggled and wobbled and shook, and didn’t move an inch. “Ah, Twilight…” Artemis said, between grunts. “You may have grown... a little too substantial... for me to move you. But I will try... a few more times... just to make certain!”
He wrapped his forelegs as far around Twilight’s rump as he could, and rested his head atop that blubbery, purple pillow. It was, if anything, an even worse position for moving her—and Twilight wondered if any of the onlookers were the slightest bit fooled. As Artemis outright groped her rear, Twilight pushed right back, expanding beneath him with every bite she swallowed.
And then the marble floor beneath Twilight cracked further—jagged black lines spreading out from her enormous circumference. “Hmmmph? Mmmmmm...” The slight motion made Twilight’s huge body ripple, but she just continued eating, unperturbed.
Artemis, meanwhile, abandoned his Sisyphean task of moving Twilight, and instead clambered atop her—his hooves sinking several inches into the shelf of her gut. “Ahem,” he said, raising his voice to fill the entire dining all. “All of you caterers—yes, even you, ice cream pony…” He reached out with his magic, peeled the flattened stallion off the keg’s side, then shook him once to restore him to normal. “It seems our Princess is a little winded. Would you mind bringing your food a little closer, so she can properly sample it?”
Without waiting for a reply, Artemis grabbed an entire table in his telekinesis and brought it over to Twilight. The remaining caterers exchanged bewildered glances, before they, too, grabbed as much food as they could carry and began hauling it over. Those who hadn’t yet been visited by Twilight, and those who had, but weren’t completely cleaned out yet—all formed a procession bearing food to stuff into the enormous Princess.
Artemis, meanwhile, took the table and held it right up to Twilight’s face. It was covered in muffins and scones—hundreds of them, in dozens of varieties. Artemis simply lifted the opposite end, so the treats all slid right into Twilight’s waiting mouth. Twilight gobbled them all down indiscriminately, her belly bloating until it was twice as tall as Artemis, and then even taller.
“Yes, yes...” Prince Artemis cupped Twilight’s fat cheek in his forehoof once again. “Indulge, my dear. Enjoy these pleasures of the flesh. You want to eat, and eat, and eat.” He lay down on her belly, his whole body sinking a few inches into that purple blubber—and his other hooves kneaded her soft flesh, jiggling her expanding belly even further. “Every food under the sun is yours to eat, to make you grow ever fatter and more beautiful.”
Twilight scarfed down the last scone from the table, but Artemis grabbed a baklava tray from the queue of caterers, so the stream of food into her mouth continued without pause. Twilight just moaned with pleasure, her eyes closed as she chewed and swallowed the endless procession of desserts. Artemis’s hooves felt divine against her own blubbery body: the Prince of her dreams, both literally and figuratively, and he couldn’t keep his hooves off of Twilight. And as she grew thicker, rounder, fatter all over—as she gained more inches of adipose for those hooves to squish into—the pleasure of his touch grew even more.
Almost as sweet was the parade of breads and pastries, creams and frostings and fruit fillings, dancing across her tongue—then down her throat and into her humongous belly, filling it even larger, prompting even more rumbles and groans. More cracks appeared in the floor beneath her, as her sides spread several feet past the fissures she’d already created in the marble. And still she expanded even wider, as the caterers dutifully passed their products to Artemis, who made sure each and every one of them found its way into Twilight’s mouth.
Eventually, Twilight found something unexpected on her lips—the rim of a cold glass. Her eyes shot open, and she saw a mug of root beer, tipping to pour a whole pint into her mouth.
“You’ve done it,” Artemis said. “There’s no food left. How about a drink to wash it down?”
Twilight gulped down whole mug, then gave a very dignified, Princess-like belch. “Thanks.” Then she smirked at Artemis and added, “But I don’t need a mug.”
“Excellent idea…”
Artemis lifted the entire keg up to Twilight’s face. It had dwarfed her before—back when she was still small enough to touch the floor with her hooves—but now its huge volume was merely half of Twilight’s stupefying bulk. But it would have to suffice. Twilight wrapped her lips around the faucet, cranked the handle until it broke off in her hoof, and greedily gulped down the flood of delicious root beer, her belly swelling as quickly as ever.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Artemis slapped Twilight’s belly and watched it jiggle. From his perch on the bloating Princess, he was three times his own height above the floor, and still Twilight filled even larger. “To gorge yourself on everything delicious.”
Twilight moaned again and kicked all four hooves. They squished deep into the gigantic purple balloon of her belly. Farther it spread across the floor, foot after foot, until she took up more floor space than her entire bedroom back in Ponyville—and still she grew even larger.
“Your example will inspire a new golden age of hedonism in Equestria,” Artemis said, squishing his hoof as deep as he could into Twilight’s flab. That vast mass of food and drink churned inside her; it pressed back against him as she filled further and further. “Thousands of ponies will want to be more like you: Princess Twilight Sparkle, the most self-indulgent, most beautiful, largest Princess in Equestria’s history.”
Twilight grew to five times Artemis’s height, and she gave one last moan, louder than the rest. As luck would have it, seconds later, the keg ran dry, and Twilight gulped down those last few mouthfuls of root beer—adding a few final inches to her gargantuan waistline. Twilight had been overweight before; now, she was dwarfed by the mind-boggling girth of her own belly: too large to fit into her own castle back in Ponyville, too large to even travel to Ponyville—and for that matter, too big to fit through the doors of this very dining hall.
Artemis held Twilight’s chubby cheek again as he tossed away the empty keg. It flew towards the ice cream stallion, who once again screamed like a filly—but this time, Twilight caught the barrel in her magic and set it down where it wouldn’t flatten anypony.
“Well, Princess,” Artemis said. “How was that meal?”
Twilight smiled groggily back, her fat face wobbling at the Prince’s gentle touch. “It’s... a good start.” She burped again, shamelessly. “Are we still on for lunch after this?”
“Of course. Oh, and before we forget...” Artemis produced Twilight’s Head Gala Organizer badge—no longer attached to the broken lanyard. He stuck it Twilight’s flabby chest with a quick application of adhesive magic.
“Thank you…”
“So, now that you have all your taste testing data...” Artemis held up Twilight’s original spreadsheet, and smirked. “Have you decided who you’re going to contract to provide food for the Gala?”
“Of course, I’mahuminuminuminuh...” Twilight’s head sank down to her belly, and she was asleep in seconds.
“Sweet dreams, Princess,” Artemis whispered.
Artemis flew away—the squashed globe of Twilight’s gut jiggling at his liftoff—and landed amongst the mass of caterers and bakers. They’d been staring with wide eyes and slack jaws at the purple land-whale that Twilight had become, and now they turned to the Prince, with fear in their eyes. But Artemis spread his forelegs and wings, and embraced them all in a mighty hug.
“Huzzah, and congratulations!” he proclaimed, quietly. “You’re all hired for the Gala! And you’re going to provide Princess Twilight with a feast at least twice as grand as this one...”
