Pinkie Pie's Taste Tester
Author's Note
I have no idea why I even thought of this one or where it came from, but here we are again with the random, often absurd ideas! Welcome to my world, people. If you don't know what's going on inside my mind, then don't ask me, because I don't know, either! I quite literally and utterly don't have the necessary comprehension skills to understand with any coherent viewpoint or knowledge of just what is going on in my brain, but if NASA calls me, I'll see what they can do to figure me out.
Anyway, back to the basics, this is just a strange, random, quite laughable quickie written roughly in the span of maybe thirty minutes or more. I don't really know, seeing as I don't keep an accurate track of time when I write these things. I've learned not to ask questions or to provoke my own thoughts any further. And so, here's Pinkie Pie and Andy in Pinkie Pie's Taste-Tester! And as we say on The Green Mile, 'May God have mercy on your soul.'
Pinkie Pie's Taste Tester
Pinkie Pie's Taste Tester
A Story by FireRain
*** *** ***
It was a morning just like any other the day that Pinkie Pie, Ponyville's very own infamous party planner and specialist, expert baker and basic, all-around insane pink pony came up to you to ask you of a favour. The favour was perhaps the most enticing request that would have most ponies eagerly lining up to offer their assistance - she wanted you, Equestria's sole human to be her taste taster!
The Ponyville Championship Bake-Off was only a week away from starting, and when she asked you, naturally, you were obliged and even a little flattered to be asked for your assistance in her kitchen. A whole week of being treated to heavenly, endless dosages of pleasurable, confectionery sugary bliss fresh from the hooves of Pinkie Pie? Of course you were not going to decline her offer and leave the bubbly girl hanging! Why, it would be an insult not to take up on her offer! Those pleading eyes of hers forbid a decline!
However, as the week progressed, your mind soon changed when you made the discovery that you were going to be more of a lab rat or a guinea pig than a simple taste tester taking in spoonfuls of sugar with each, fresh and delicious batch baked. You were force-fed ungodly cartloads, trays and platters of cakes, pies, cupcakes and muffins, and basically everything else made from sugar, spice and everything nice. The diabeetus train down to Diabeticville was chugging along at full zip.
''O-pen-wiiii-iiide!'' Pinkie Pie cooed as she shoved yet another large cupcake between your already-cake-filled teeth, practically shoving it down your throat. You groaned in protest, but it was of no use. Your jaw had long since become too numb for you to clamp it shut, a job which Pinkie did for you.
They were so sore by this point, after roughly one-hundred confectionery variants, that they were burning and swollen, both sockets where your jaw was attached to your skull stiff and painful. Not only was your jaw protesting in pure agony, but your teeth were howling, screaming out from the unholy amount of casting, royal and fondant icing that had practically dissolved through the enamel and straight through to the dentine beneath!
By a rough calculation, you estimated that well over half of your bodily fluids were now sugar-based. Besides, the sugar had numbed your senses, rendering most everything that Pinkie rammed down your throat positively tasteless, most of your general senses numbed. Much like your swollen jaw, your gut had also been affected by the constant feedings of baked goods, almost tripled in size and churning and gurgling from the half-digested batter sitting inside of it, pushing against your stomach lining, threatening to burst you open like a Xenomorph baby hatching from its host.
You know, the idea of dying by giving birth to a baby alien popping out of your gut did seem faster and more appealing than dying slowly from overfeeding. The sickly-sweet burn of all of the combined sugar was gradually rotting your from the inside-out, anyway, so it would be a mercy killing. Fluttershy represented The Element of Kindness! Where was she when you needed her, anyway? Surely, if she saw the amount of pain you were in, she'd save your from your tormentor and put you out of your misery!
''P-P-Pink---UM!'' You managed to utter, but just barely, to your torturer, your tormentor, your nemesis, as yet another cupcake was shoved down your gullet, clogging up your mouth. She slapped your jaws shut, to which they cried out and you felt tears sting your eyes from the pain the sudden jerk conjured, forcing you to bite down into the sweet treat, the flavour incomprehensible. Was it vanilla or vomit flavoured?
Pinkie sat beside you on the side of the thick, wooden kitchen table, her sweet haunches plopped down onto a cushioned chair, her face specked with various slatherings and dollops of multi-colour icing that she had acquired through her manic baking session. Chocolate, blueberry, vanilla, Shamrock mint, carrot and daffodil, caramel, hazelnut, Sugar-Tastic-Zip-Tastic (in lament's terms, that's a high-sugar content comprised out of Celestial Jellybeans, Fluffle-Puff Marshmallows, melted white and dark chocolate and another sickly sweet ingredient you couldn't place. Maybe it was molasses. Or death.) and, lastly, coffee-flavoured fudge.
Pinkie's poofy pink mane was also dusted with a thin coating of flour, both plain and self-raising, staining it like creepy Aunt Helga, the bony, old blue-hair widower that lives alone inside of a haunted, eerie house riddled with spiderwebs. The thought would be funny if it wasn't so terrifying to you in this scenario. For an off-moment, you began to consider the idea that Pinkie Pie was actually a secret mad scientist hell-bent on conducting a forbidden, evil experiment on you, involving how many cupcakes it would take for a human to scoff down until they went bang! Of course the hypothesis was completely bogus, but, in your mind, it was very plausible right now!
The bakery itself was in a state that suggested a civil war took place against the kitchen appliances and baking ingredients, batter and icing alike splattered and slathered in the aftermath of the endless baking that had taken place. Used mixing bowls were left scattered about the kitchen along with dirty whisks, spatulas, mixing machines, empty egg cartons, half-used milk, chocolate bars (Pinkie had been most insistent on scarfing most of those), dirty aprons, grease-smeared tins and icing-stained bags, used bottles of vanilla and other flavour extracts and measuring spoons.
Not to mention, the entire kitchen floor was powdered over with bombardments of flour. Roughly, there were twenty or so bags of both used and half-used flour scattered and clumsily and carelessly stored and left around the room. The majority of them were dropped and dumped all over the floor in a thick puddle of white-coloured dust.
The air was even clouded, stained an off-white, with the lingering flour in the room, and it constantly wafted into your nose as you inhaled and exhaled, teasingly tickling and brushing against your nose hairs, provoking you. It was like one of those cartoon ghost hands alluringly beckoning you to sneeze, flicking its phantom fingers, telling you to do it. You wanted to slap it, but, unfortunately, the air possessed no physical form that you could assault. Shame, really.
''Be gone, you foul beast! Out, I say!'', as Rarity might say. The comical image made you want to laugh, but laughing was agony for your fat-drowning lungs to muster. At most, all that came out was a choke and sputter like a dying car engine.
''P-Pinkie, please...'' You moaned, groaning as you tried to sit upright. ''I can't ea-eat anymore,'' You said, speaking a struggle as your vocals fought fruitlessly to escape from the thick batter and icing clogging up your throat-hole, strangling your vocal chords. You almost sounded like Fat Albert's twin brother, Fatter Albert. Man if only Bill Crosby could see you now...
''Aw, come on, Andy-Pandy, there's still plenty more to taste test!'' She said, motioning with both hooves towards the table like a showpony revealing some outstanding product their were trying to pitch at a world fair. The table was jam-packed with stacks upon stacks of boxes of cupcakes, cakes and pies. Metal baking trays, muffin trays, pie tins and tart casings were balanced on top of each other, a mad-mare's confectionery dream (or nightmare) of baked goods. When your eyes lazily gazed up with a frightened, intimidated gulp at The Leaning Tower of Piza-reminiscent Tower of Diabeetus, your sugar-fueled heart began to sink along with your fat gut.
''I've worked so hard for this, Andy! How will I know what to enter?!'' Pinkie said sadly, sighing as she began to ponder worriedly on her options. ''Do I enter a lemon meringue, my Pie Sisters' Super Top-Secret Rock Sugar Supreme Pie, my double-custard cream tart or my Spruce-Moose Mouse with Fillydelphian chocolate? Or do I enter my apple-strawberry golden crust pie? Of course, it'll probably upset Applejack a bit, and Applejack hates strawberries, and pretty much every other fruit that isn't an apple,'' Pinkie thought hyperactively, her voice a garble, a squabble of noise.
''Ooooh!'' She groaned, giving a dramatic swing of her hoof over her head as she leaned back in her sweet, giving a theatre-esque swoon, as if she was about to faint, inhaling deeply through her nostrils. Her blue eyes were shimmering, stressed and exhausted of energy. It was actually a little bit heart-throbbing to witness the sweet-hearted girl to be helpless in this way. ''What am I going to do, Andy-Candy? At this rate, I'll come last! Last, I tell you!'' She exclaimed, causing you to flinch. ''You don't want me to lose, do you, Andy?''
Pinkie Pie leaned closely towards you, squinting her eyes calculatingly at you, gazing strongly through your terrified green eyes as you saw your own reflection in her large, accusing pupils in the middle of her baby blue irises. How could something so cute, bubbly and adorable be simultaneously frightening and nerve-wracking? What was the witchcraft that built the chemistry of Pinkie's very bodily fibers of existence? What cruel, merciless beast of a god would allow this?!
''N-No!'' You quickly stammered out. You tried to push yourself away from her prying gaze, but your fattened-up, bulbous gut was anchoring you down, dooming you to the fate of being examined by your tormentor's cruel eyes. ''Of course not, Pinkie!'' You tried to convince her. ''I love your baking!''
She continued to lean in, squinting harder, glaring at you, her unpredictable demeanor causing your mind to race, tentative as to what she was liable to do and what was processing in her mind. It was like sharing the same court room as Judge Judy or Jeremy Kyle, but much, much more intimidating. You wished that you possessed the strength to move on your ham rack legs and thighs, to run away.
Oh, dearest Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, won't you help a brother out?
''Aw! That's so sweet of you to make your Auntie Pinkie Pie feel better!'' Pinkie said, patting your back while giving your a brief hug, her face snapping disturbingly fast back to her chipper and spry self. You managed a shaky, nervous smile back, your quadruple chins vibrating worse that the tremolo bar on an electric guitar in the hands of Jimi Hendrix while he performed All Along the Watchtower. ''You know, you're such a super-duper friend, Andy-Candy!'' She grinned warmly.
''Only a true friend like you would help me with tasting all of my goodies!'' She leaned her elbow against you as she rambled on, all the while, your heart throbbing uncomfortably, the desire to escape your sugary imprisonment constantly growing. ''I asked Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, Twilight, Rarity and Spike first, and when they declined with some random excuse, I asked Starlight Glimmer, Lyra Heartstrings, Roseluck, Mayor Mare and even The Crusaders, but each and every one of them ran off! Can you believe that, Andy?!''
Gee, Pinkie, I wonder why, You thought inwardly. Why, I can't think of one reason why they ran for the hills like their lives depended on it! But, if you ask me, they all escaped while I was stupid enough to offer myself up as a sacrifice in their place!
''But not you, Andy-Candy!'' She chirped, kissing you on the cheek in a grateful gesture. The contact of her lips to your cheek felt like poison, slowly seeping through your skin and on its way to infecting your brain. It made you feel cold. ''You're a good, true friend! I don't know what I'd do without you!''
That's sweet, but don't push the bar by calling my your 'number one fan', Annie Wilkes, You thought miserably.
''The Ponyville Championship Bake-Off is only around the corner, and with your assistance in the kitchen, I'll come in first place for sure this year! I always do, Andy! And you'll share in the glory with me!'' She said, her voice becoming lost to you as your thoughts drifted elsewhere, away from the torment of The Pink One.
Yes, it was true. Through the entire time that you have lived in Ponyville, the town has hosted a yearly bake-off contest that was always packed by the eagerly-awaiting town's ponies for the time to arrive. Aside from Pinkie Pie, the other contestants that usually signed up to partake in the contest were Berry Punch, whom always entered her 'world famous' blackcurrant cider cobbler, made from her own still of hoof-picked berries.
The title of the dish sounded appetising enough, but her blackcurrant cider was anything but. It was so dry and starchy that the texture resembled some kind of pine cone-based cement, hardly chewable, nevermind edible. And the taste...you would rather let that one sit inside of the dark section of your mind, sealed away for eternity, forbidden to be remembered. Come to think of it, you thought that it made more logical sense to submit the blackcurrent cider cobbler into a cement competition in the construction industry.
Next, of course, there was Mrs. Cake, whom entered her fabulous Daisy Day Demerara-sprinkled Sweet Dumpling Pudding, a rich and pleasant, fresh and crisp, warming bowl of thick, soup-like sweetness. It was a deep, neon yellow in colour and it had a savoury dumpling in the middle of it made from imitation, sugar daises that were flavoured with real daisy extract, complemented heartily by the demerara sugar. It was always a hit with the Ponyvillians, everypony present always hustling her for the recipe, some even willing to offer good money for it.
Lastly, there was Granny Smith, Applejack's grandmother, whom had been in the contest for as long as it had existed since Ponyville's founding. She was very competitive for an old mare, and you held a special, admirable place in your heart for her undying spirit and stubborness to back down under her arthritis, frequent spoutings of dimentia and episodes of drowsiness.
Like the rest of her family, she was a natural at baking, a real whiz in the kitchen, and she would always enter her hearty zap apple jam pie with special shortcrust pastry and the perfect balanced ratio of apples to sugar. She never used too many apples, seeing as zap apples were very packed with juicy, sweet, sparky flavour, like biting into a fruity lightning bolt, and they provided their own, natural sugar source into the pie when its baked, meaning that Granny Smith never needed to add more. The old mare knew what she was doing. Her pies were always the bee's knees.
''Now, Andy-Candy, what do you say to moving on to the lemon meringue pie with the warming custard infused into the middle of the meringue with Sun Dance popping candy?'' Pinkie asked, bringing you back into your dreary reality inside of Sugarcube Corner's nightmare kitchen.
If only Gordon Ramsay was here right now, you could think of at least a couple of infamous lines from his hilarious sailor's mouth. Perhaps he might break through the wall like the Kool Aid mascot and hold you in the bridal position and carry you off into the sunset, away from this Pink Devil. If only.
''Ooh! Ooh!'' Pinkie suddenly jerked her head around to face you, clasping your chubby cheeks while she pressed her snout up against yours, grinning painfully wide. ''What about the blue-coloured blueberry muffins with royal blue icing and glitter infused with blue sapphires that the Cakes' made for Spike on his birthday?!'' She suddenly retracted as a thought hit her. ''Wait...no, ponies and humans can't eat gems like dragons! That's just silly!'' She clonked herself upside the head. ''How else would we test the rest of these treats without our teeth?''
Momentarily, Pinkie paused to face the Leaning Tower of Diabeetus. Without a second thought, she dived directly into the towering, behemoth-sized mass of the alarmingly-swaying confectionery sweets, and they miraculously didn't collapse like you expected them to onto the floor. Upon entering the sugary mass, Pinkie began to talk out loud to herself, thinking.
''What about the...oh, no, already tried those,'' She began. ''Ooh! Maybe the key lime pie with lime slices and green caster sugar lime-flavoured ponies! Oh, no, no, already tried one of those. Last time, I hardly made it into the bathroom...'' You heard Pinkie reminisce to herself, and your guts gave an audible, unhappy-sounding gurgle as air bubbles passed through your innards, struggling to break down the mix of icing and batter resting in your stomach.
Speaking of Pinkie Pie nearly having a bathroom malfunction, you yourself have had the frequent visit into the throne room upstairs with only seconds to spare before the volcano was about to erupt. You were surprised that you didn't end up obliterating the plumbing with your mean, nasty, explosive, vanilla and cream-scented episodes as you gave birth to chocolate yule logs well ahead of the appropriate season. They came in ground-rumbling bursts of excrement that vigorously vibrated through the floorboards, and it was embarrassing to know that anypony, customer or Pinkie, could easily hear the brunt of the storm along with the rest of Ponyville. Well, if they didn't hear it, they would have caught whiff of the sugar-scented stink, instead.
You were always more self-conscious about retreating into the bathroom to unload the abundance of delectable treats since you began to taste test with Pinkie Pie, and as the week stretched on and you began to consume more, it made you all the more uncomfortable than embarrassed to be around her when she was baking downstairs. You knew full-well that most everything was audible from the upstairs of the shop, and it didn't help that everything you ate had to come out sooner or later. In one hole and out of the other, just like clockwork.
You've heard Pinkie suffer through the same routine, too, but her bathroom visits on a daily basis was minimal compared to your own, seeing as she hardly ate her own concoctions. That was your job, and you were paying for it. Her sweet treats never ceased to give your bowels a challenge.
By a random but logical guess, you were immediately led to believe that this was the very reason that none of her friends sold their souls to be her personal lab rat, and Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie was always a hard obstacle to work around. She was scary in her own way when she was placed under pressure of the likes of burning a building down and that could split a family in two, but she was also very passionate and sensitive about what she brings out of the oven in the kitchen.
You really didn't want to break Pinkie's tender, delicate, sweet heart and hurt her feelings by criticizing her baking skills. You cared about her too much to make her cry or feel awful about unknowingly pushing your limits. After all, the young girl meant well, and it wasn't like she did this stuff on purpose or intently. Right?
Pinkie Pie was the best baker in Ponyville, likely in the entire magical land of Equestria, next to the Apple Family, and she never disappointed ponies with the treats that she bakes to sell in the shop or give to her friends. Everything that she produced was in a league of its own, on an entirely different scale. Compared to human food on Earth, it was angel food. It was made with the exact same ingredients, but it magically tasted so much more flavourful and vibrant! Perhaps it was something in the soil it was grown in...
To tell the truth, you were personally very fond of her baking, and you even enjoyed baking every now and again yourself, but, right now and in this scenario, it made you literally want to die if it meant you could be granted the chance to refrain from any further force-feedings of baked goods. By now, you weren't sure if your gut could tolerate any more cake before it decides to go POP!
''Hmm, let's see...where did I put that ultra scrumptious, sprinkleicious strawberry cream tart?'' Pinkie thought out loud, momentarily poking a head out of the leaning confectionery tower to glance around before she dived back in. ''We haven't tried that one, yet! Now, where could it be?'' Pinkie said from somewhere within the Land of the Cakes, lost from your vision as you sat like a beached whale in a pair of icing-caked blue jeans and a white shirt.
You were so big by this point that you felt (and heard) the fabric of your shirt flex, screaming out and begging, pleading, that The Pink One would not emerge like some sub-terranian gollum with another one of her poison pies.
Oh, please, no! Anything but another one of your sweets, Pinkie Pie! You thought. Have mercy! I don't want to die yet! Not like this!
In your seat, the legs beneath you creaked under your titanic weight as you began to rock back and forth, warm sweat forming and dripping down your forehead. Rather than rolling down your cheek and dribbling down your neck, it instead cascaded down like a mini waterfall over your guadruple chins, pooling into moats before it leaked and dribbled. Your chins were so deep and flabby, face-mounted kangaroo pouches that your sweat didn't even drip any further! One they were filled, the flab-formed water dams held their own knights at bay.
You were officially going nowhere. You were trapped.
You truly did feel like Paul Sheldon right now, and Pinkie Pie was your very own Annie Wilkes, only rather than killing you off with lethal dosages of unprescribed, Novril and her fan-obsessive psychopathic side, she was going to kill you with her sociopathic maniac baker side, slowly and by the pound. Oh how you thought that it would end so differently than this!
In your mind, you always pictured that you would die in a a cheesy scenario that's a cliché worldwide, such as in the arms of your lover (if you ever met one, that is) or in a car accident. You would even settle for dying peacefully while you slumbered. Without a doubt, your situation gave a whole new meaning to 'Death by Chocolate', very ironically so.
Soon, The Pink One emerged with a colourful tart or a pie in her hooves, and the light in the room oddly darkened around her face, as if sensing the sudden dread that dawned upon you, giving her a nightmarish, ghouly appearance, not unlike if this was an eerie horror story, which, trust me, it isn't, so that begs the question of why she is so creepy right now.
Pinkie Pie was like some kind of mad baking alchemist basking in the glory of one of her latest successes in creating a new concoction that she had developed in the confines of her dark, dreary, underground laboratory, grinning sadistically and cackling in the light of a pair of sparking electrodes. Dexter from Dexter's Laboratory would be proud if he was around to see this.
I want to go home, You thought, gulping mentally. It can't end like this! Not here, not now! No, Pinkie Pie, please don't come any closer!
Too late.
Pinkie Pie, bearing the custard-loaded lemon meringue pie, was slowly leaning towards you with outstretched hooves, smiling warmly at you as she slowly inched the pie towards you, but you only felt cold upon gazing into her loving but twisted face. In some ways, she was a motherly figure, so tender and caring, a role-model of sorts, if you wanted to call it that, but there was a vacantness to her being, something unsettling and strict, un-natural, not warm and fuzzy like most ponies knew her as, but...cold and heartless. Could Pinkie, your sweet and loving friend of multiple years, not see how much fear she was eliciting into your being with her constant, non-consensual feeding?!
She slowly brought it closer and closer to your face, and you attempted to shove your body back on the chair as far as your bulbous, ball and chain weight would allow, wanting to get away from her, but it was a hopeless effort. You hardly possessed the necessary strength to so much as raise your arms, try as you might, but your bingo wings only served as dead weight, rendering you completely defenseless and helpless.
Pinkie Pie leaned in closer.
''Pinkie, n-no...'' You tried to mutter, your vocals still clogged up inside of your throat, drowning in thick dollopings of batter and icing, a confectionary recreation of the Somme in Flander's Fields.
Here it comes!
It was hardly even a few inches away from pressing up against your lips now, and you made every effort to refrain from taking even the smallest of nibbles into the crusty, delicious-looking hay-biscuit crust. Leaning further back in your seat, the front legs were raised a couple of inches from the floor, your weight only being supported and balanced on the hind legs of the metal-framed chair. Any further, and you would go tumbling back like the whale-human hybrid that you are.
From where Pinkie Pie was perched on her haunches, the leaning tower behind you began to sway more intensely from where she was sitting on the edge of its load-bearing foundation. Those boxes of cupcakes, balanced cake boards and baking trays were swaying too intensely for comfort, looming over the two of you and threatening to collapse at any given moment. Pinkie was the only thing keeping the tower from toppling over, and her rummaging around inside of it must have weakened its structural integrity.
''P-Pinkie! The cakes---!'' You began to say, gazing up at the cake tower and doing your best to motion towards her at the impending avalanche of baked goods, but she didn't pay any mind to your warnings. She didn't even bother to acknowledge you as she continued to bring the pie forward.
''Oh, Andy-Candy, don't worry, there are plenty of other cakes to try!'' She continued to remain oblivious to the tower swinging over her head. How didn't she notice it? ''I know that you'll just love this next one, Andy! It's got extra custard loaded in there because I know that you love my creamy custard, don't you?'' She said, winking, and you cringed internally. You believed that she had finally fallen off of the deep end and her sanity had boarded the midnight train going anywhere but in her head, making her appear senile and clueless.
Wait a second...how old is Pinkie Pie, anyway? It just occurred to you that in the entire time that you've known her, neither of you had swapped age details or never even considered the idea of guessing your separate ages. She didn't appear to be very old, now that you thought about it, and she was still both youthful and beautiful, smooth-skinned and vibrantly-furred, which lead you to believe that she was likely to be in her early twenties, if that. You yourself were only twenty, so you at least had enough of a hint to clue you in to the fact that you were in the same age range.
''No, Pinkie! I'm not talking about the pie!'' You said, trying to warn her about what you knew was inevitable. ''L-Look behind you! The cakes!'' You cried, but she carried on smiling. ''For crying out loud, Pinkie Pie, you stupid, oblivious mare, look behind you!'' You tried to wave your fat hands in the air at her, but your arms anchored them down, the strain of the fat cementing them down feeling like it was fracturing your skeleton.
''Oh, no, Andy, your jokes won't work on me!'' She said, giggling, apparently deaf and obnoxiously clueless as to what you were trying to warn her about, every single hint floating over her head. Did she seriously think that you were playing some kind of childish game with her? ''I'm not falling for that one! I know you too well, silly! I know that you'll try and run away and hide when I turn around! We haven't got any time to spare for fun and games, Andy, so the sooner you eat this pie, the sooner we can get back to having fun in the kitchen!'' She said, patting your shoulder. ''Those cakes won't bake and eat themselves, you know!''
You groaned loudly. ''Nevermind about the cakes, Pinkie Pie!'' You cried, now becoming incredibly annoyed and frustrated at her absentmindedness. ''I don't care about your pies and cakes!'' You were glaring at her now. ''That tower behind you is gonna come crashing down!'' You said, forever feeling the dread arise in your swollen gut as it gave yet another series of loud gurgles and rumbles.
Staring over her shoulder at the now-swinging tower, only a few heaves back and forth away from gaining enough force to topple over, a box or two full of fresh muffins and cupcakes were thrown free from the stack. That was it, the final straw, the last nail in the coffin, and now the tower was heading straight for Pinkie's round, adorable skull.
''Aw, but my cakes are nice, Andy! You've even told me so!'' She pouted, not fazed by your insult to her baking. ''They are so sweet and delicious and scrumptious and sugar-tastically amazing that everypony likes them! Well, technically, not strictly everypony, seeing as you're a human, so that wouldn't be completely fair, but I know that you love my cakes and my pies and my cupcakes, seeing as you ate so many, and I know that you'll love this pie more than anything else so far, and----''
''Pinkie! Look out!''
TIMBER!
The Leaning Tower of Diabeetus came crashing down after one last, giant swing to the side, looming over Pinkie Pie's flour-dusted and icing-caked mane and head, and she hardly had the chance to turn and see what was going on, let along scream, before she was buried with you. The two of you cried out in a terrified, surprised scream as the tower collapsed over you, the fall of a confectionery empire, crumbling and tumbling down as the weighty contents in the stack flew in every direction.
Bombardments of icing-covered cupcakes, buns, pies and cakes were tossed and hurled everywhich direction, slamming into the walls, floor and even the ceiling, splattering like sugary grenades. The meringue pie that Pinkie had been holding and trying to feed you was thrown into the wall, and when the white shell of the meringue exploded, it splattered out thick balls of creamy custard, like somebody had stamped on a bottle of mustard and caused it to burst open.
You were knocked clean off of your seat, thrown backwards and tossed into the floor along with Pinkie Pie. Pinkie landed on top of your chest with a huff, the wind getting knocked out of her, and her weight squeezing your own breath out of your body while you both became submerged in a bath of icing and baked goods.
Pinkie Pie, quickly recovering, sniffed you for a moment, inhaling your sweet scent like a little puppy, and she smiled while her eyes lit up and she licked your cheek with her surprisingly long, sloppy tongue, licking up some of the icing from your face. She savoured the taste and she giggled happily to herself.
''Mmm!'' She murmured. ''You taste like a toffee muffin!'' She said, giving your face another slobbery lick.
''Timber...'' You muttered under your breath, fed up both literally and mentally, no pun intended. The sudden movement from the chair to the floor caused your stomach to give another loud and painful lurch, making you want to hurl. Mr. Gallbladder wasn't very happy with you at the moment, and neither was Mr. Stomach. Pinkie, however, giggled innocently.
''Oh, no, silly, it's not timber, it's icing!'' She said cutely, giving your cheek yet another series of wet licks around your drawbridge chins, licking up every last dollop from every nook and cranny the tip of her tongue could slip into. You brought up your hands to her shoulders and you tried to gently push her away, but she never ceased in her sloppy licking.
''P-Pinkie Pie,'' You struggled to say, winded. ''As much as I like you and as much as I enjoy your friendship and company, the next time you need somebody to taste test your baking, find someone else to be your guinea pig,'' You said.
''But guinea pigs can't eat icing, Andy-Candy! It'll upset their little stomachs! Besides, Fluttershy wouldn't be very happy with me if I let those chubby, adorable, fuzzy, cuddly potatoes eat something that they shouldn't! She loves animals, and if I got one of her woodland friends sick, she won't be very happy with me, and I---''
''Pinkie Pie?'' You asked neutrally, pushing her away lightly, stopping her from speaking any further. You weren't sure how many more Pinkie-isms you could take.
''Yeah?'' She asked. ''Oh, wait! You're not hurt, are you?'' She asked concernedly. ''If you are, I can go and get Nurse Redheart and she'll---''
''No, Pinkie, no,'' You covered her muzzle, stopping her. ''You...you're on my crotch,'' You said, groaning. ''It's very painful. I can't breathe. Please, get off,'' You said, trying to shove her off. She glanced down and, sure enough, her rear hoof was indeed planted unknowingly into your crotch. She blushed, embarrassed.
''Oh! S-Sorry,'' She said, for once realising that she was doing something unwanted. ''I didn't mean to hurt you, Andy!'' She said apologetically. ''You're not hurt too badly, are you?''
''Hazelnuts,'' Is all you muttered, the pain dazing your mind. ''Hazelnuts and walnuts. It's all crunched nuts down there,'' You said through struggled breaths, sucking in air slowly through your teeth as you held your hands protectively over your bruised, swollen love eggs.
Well, having kids one day might have been appealing to you, to finally settle down and start a family, but now that your twig and berries were squashed and snapped, you doubted that you would ever be a true man ever again. You will never know what it feels like to have children of your own. Another thing to thank Pinkie for!
''Pinkie?'' You asked.
''Yeah, Andy?'' She asked, now gazing down sadly and guiltily at you. Her eyes were glassy as she evidently felt terrible for breaking your marbles and tarnishing your health with her obsessive feeding.
''For as long as I live, I never, ever, want to see another cake, pie, cupcake or muffin ever again. Or nuts.''
