Midnight chewed thoughtfully, letting the flavours mix on her tongue before swallowing. Another good morsel from Bakewell Tart, who was the chef who had asked her to write a review on his restaurant.

Now she was able to taste what his restaurant had to offer, Midnight could appreciate Bakewell’s nickname: Chug-a-Lug. All the food she’d had so far had been masterfully crafted, and she could understand why so many others gobbled up his food with such speeds. Nevermind the fact he was capable of eating so quickly too, it was no wonder why he had a portly figure.

What was the phrase? Midnight opened her mouth for the next morsel to be placed inside. Chewing thoughtfully all the while, mentally taking the notes she no longer had the mobility to do physically. Never trust a skinny chef, that was it. Bakewell had no such drawbacks to him: his food was as delicious as his portly waistline suggested.

Of course, anypony looked small next to her.

Midnight had, over the past year, had only piled on more weight. Immobilized on River’s property, Midnight had only continued to grow. The larger she grew, the less she moved whether under her own power or with the help of others, leaving her nothing to do but eat more; eager to fill the quiet hours with something she could still enjoy at any size. All that eating had her piling on the pounds, exacerbated by a vicious cycle. Now, she was around the size of a small building. Impossible to get a true weight for, since she’d outpaced the best scales ages ago, and the only thing to provide context for her size was River’s house.

Laying on her stomach, or rather the massive cushion her stomach fat had grown into, Midnight’s flab spread around her on all sides for a few meters in any direction. Making it extremely difficult to reach any part of her that remained pony shaped. Even then, her proportions were massive. Her stomach was by far her largest asset, lifting her off the ground and spreading outwards and upwards. She was roughly oblong shaped, her limbs sucked into their fatty sleeves, which were then further buried in the rolls and folds that emerged as her fat continued to fight for space to take up.

While her stomach was the most impressive, her rear was equally massive. From what others had said, Midnight’s cutie marks were still visible, though they were distorted and faded, so massive that single parts of it were larger than fully grown stallions. Her tail, wrapped up out of the way ages ago, had completely disappeared. The nub of it was blocked entirely from view, hidden under rolls and folds that were so deep, no pony could feel the end of them.

While Midnight had aspirations of growing bigger, and did what she could to fuel her continued growth, she’d plateaued in recent weeks. Unable to push her metabolism any further for two major factors:

1. Midnight still had to pay for her food.
2. She had to make the appointments with restaurant chains to review the food.

It didn’t matter how famous she was, or how widely read her reviews were, Midnight still had to make the reviews. Restaurants, or brands, had to ship their food to her. Some, like Bakewell himself, brought chefs so fresh food could be prepared on site to ensure Midnight would get the best possible product, rather than risk things getting damaged or rotten in transit.

And that was before the logistics of them getting the food to her mouth. Her head towered above ponies, she was lifted so high up by her own fat. Making River’s house look short by comparison, some had said. Some were pegasi, and would just fly the food to her head. Some brought fascinating little machines to feed her.

Unicorns were fortunate to be able to lift the food to her mouth whenever she opened it. Which was her preferred method, if she were being honest. It was easier, cleaner, and often didn’t have quite so many things go wrong.

Earth ponies like Bakewell had to make do with what was available. River, due to her own fatness, had made a platform on wheels, and kindly lent it out to those who didn’t have other options. The platform could be raised higher or lower with the aid of a crank. Which access to Midnight’s face. Provided the chef didn’t mind walking across several feet of blubber.

“That’s it, Miss. Midnight!” Bakewell sounded exhausted yet proud. “You’ve had everything I brought with me!” He looked exhausted too, Midnight mused, peering over her fat cheeks for a glimpse of him. His food had been good though, even if the portions weren’t enough for her.

Which was unfortunate, Midnight thought. She was still hungry. Still, she utilized the last of her mobility to give a weak nod. The small motion sending ripples throughout the rest of her body, her fat shaking in time with the movement.

“Write up...next week...or so.” Midnight wheezed, her lungs so compressed by fat it was difficult to say much of anything before getting winded. It was worth it though, for all the delicious food Midnight was able to enjoy.

“Hi Bakewell!” River’s cheery voice broke Midnight’s train of thought. “Midnight! I’ve got a new magazine! Food Culture. They wrote an expose about Zesty Gourmand! She’s apparently almost completely ruined the Canterlot food scene!”

Midnight squinted around her bulging cheeks, trying to look down to see River and urge her on. Her wiggles, however slight, always caused her fat to jostle, though, and River continued without needing further prompting beyond that. Knowing that her friend had many opinions on Zesty, and few of them were good.

“She made up some criteria, by herself of course. And awarded anyone who changed their menus with a three-hoof rating, or something, which told everypony she loved their food.”

Midnight couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. Zesty was many things. A talented chef, once upon a time, with good instincts and real talent in terms of food science and how to best prepare things so they looked beautiful. What was always something of an issue, though, was Zesty’s refusal to taste test her own food, and an aggressive policy of cutting costs on anything not 100% necessary to the food. A policy which led to her using the cheapest possible ingredients which held the barest hints of flavours, leaving the portions small and flavour on the tongue nearing zero. Few ponies irritated Midnight so thoroughly, and her reviews had almost ruined Zesty’s career.

Somehow, though, it was clear that Zesty had made a comeback. Probably taking advantage of Midnight’s lack of physical presence to help shift tastes to align with her own. In other areas, that sort of thing wouldn’t take hold: but Canterlot was different. The elite there were sheltered, and often had tastes similar to Zesty’s: little portions so as not to ruin their “figures”, expensive foods so as to boast about the expenses, and almost no flavour to potentially make a scene when it inevitably disagreed with them.

If the changes were well received by the elite of Canterlot, but it was no wonder that it had ruined a lot of restaurants’ good names. Not everyone who lived in Canterlot had the same sensibilities, or the same penchant for expensive foods for miniscule portions.

It was an outdated way of thinking anyway, so no wonder Zesty had almost ruined Saddle Row-

“Hey, hold on, it gets better! Ponies fixed it! Two of Princess Twilight’s friends: Rarity and Pinkie. They helped a new restaurant get set up and ended up uncovering the whole thing. Zesty wasn’t making the restaurants better, she was just molding them to suit her taste!”

Midnight scoffed. That wasn’t at all surprising, given what Midnight remembered. What was surprising was that something hadn’t been done until more recently.

Maybe I can go visit Canterlot again. Check in, see how the food scene develops after this new freedom. Midnight pondered to herself. It could be worth it, to see how businesses rebounded. They’d be sure to like new reviews after this whole debacle, anything that would put Saddle Row back on the map, and not just for elites like Zesty. After being stuck in Hollow Shades for over a year, a trip could do Midnight a lot of good.

“I can see you thinking up there!” River called. “It’s going to take a lot to get you up there...If you’ll even fit!”

Oh there had to be a public square or park that would work, certainly. Midnight rolled her eyes, huffing softly. She would just need to rent it out for a while, work out transportation, and contact all the restaurants so she could get everything she’d want to try for each one.

It would take some time, Midnight figured. Her budget wasn’t infinite, after all, but she could continue her normal work in the meantime, and start saving up for such an endeavor. It would take a while, but it would be worth it.

“I can try to write some of the restaurants now, there’s lists of them. Oh, this one is the one that brought the whole thing to light! The Tasty Treat, doesn’t that sound nice?” River flipped a few pages of the magazine, clearly speed-reading, before pausing. “Saffron Masala and Coriander Cumin are bringing flavour and spice to their lovingly made meals and snacks, hoping to bring a touch of the exotic to the high streets of Canterlot!”

Oh that did sound good, with names like that. And boasting about flavour and spice….well, it would certainly be worth a try.

“They’ve left contact details for reservations, questions, concerns, that sort of thing. I could contact them, see if they’d be interested in a review?”

“Or even...just to bring...food out...here.” Midnight agreed. “Sounds good.”

“I thought so.” River agreed. “Sounds good, I’ll call them tomorrow morning, see if I can’t get them to deliver some stuff, or something. I’ll figure it out, you get thinking about Bakewell’s food. I’ll come out tomorrow and write down your thoughts so we can send them to the editor.”

Midnight nodded.

“I’ll be back out in a few hours with your snack! Just thought you’d want to hear about Zesty.” Midnight could hear the smile in River’s voice, even if she couldn’t look around the fat that made seeing anything past her muzzle a challenge.

Hoofsteps moved away, and the door shut. Leaving Midnight alone. The grass tickled her fur and skin, the sun warmed her back, and the breeze felt good where it ruffled fur and mane. It was simple, maybe, accompanied by a backdrop of somepony packing things up. Bakewell, maybe, packing up his equipment so he could leave after feeding her for most of the afternoon.

Bakewell’s food was good, complex without being overpowered. With fresh ingredients. If his service was the standard, his restaurant would do fine out in Vanhoover. A little pricier than the average restaurant out that way, but if he marketed well, and kept an eye on things, it hopefully wouldn’t prove too much of an obstacle.

Besides, he was a smart stallion. If his ideas turned out to be too pricey, he knew how to think on his hooves. He could change things around, lower prices, and still make excellent food.

Midnight relaxed, sinking further into her own fat, as she got settled. More than content to let her future plans for Canterlot percolate in the background while trying to expand on Bakewell’s efforts.

Only to have Zesty linger at the forefront of Midnight’s consciousness. Which was annoying, to say the least.

Maybe it was the wasted talent, or the utter selfishness. How someone could claim such love of food but never truly bother to expand their palette past a toddler’s level, Midnight would never understand. Could never understand. Midnight was an example of what could happen when ponies really loved food, though she was an extreme example.

Midnight would have to ask River if there was a picture of Zesty in the article somewhere. It wouldn’t be a surprise if the selfish, snobby mare had lost weight since Midnight had seen her last.

Never trust a skinny chef afterall. At least the issues were already resolved, and hopefully that would mean other ponies wouldn’t be listening to Zesty again. At least, not unless she had a change of heart, and lived up to all the potential she’d been wasting all these years.

Author's Note

And Voila! The Finale.

Not as exciting as some of the other chapters, perhaps, but I'm still quite proud of how things turned out!

I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing this over the past months.