“Wait a second…” Pinkie Pie murmured to herself, reading and rereading the recipe, “I’m supposed to eat the ingredients?”
Throwing parties and making pastries was all in a day’s work for her, but the anniversary of Twilight’s coronation as the head Princess of Equestria would have to be special - no, super-duper extra special. There wasn’t a type of cookie, crumble, pie, tart, or cake she hadn’t made for her friends, which meant settling on a confection for the occasion all the more difficult. Fortunately for her, the celebration was happening in Canterlot, which meant she’d have access to the royal archives - archives which may just hold a recipe extravagant enough for the momentous event.
Shortly after she and her friends had arrived in the capital, she excused herself and rushed off to the labyrinthian library housed beneath the castle. Blazing through the perilously small culinary selection of the athenaeum, blazing through book after ancient book, her hopes of finding something extraordinary were quickly dashed. Much to her chagrin, the few ancient confectionery recipes she did find were lackluster or, in one case, seemed downright inedible.
Leaving a heap of manuscripts and scrolls in her wake, with her mane flatly draped over her sullen face, she trudged towards the exit - that was, until something peculiar caught her eye. Sat at one far end of the cavernous chamber, an ominous archway led into a dimly lit passage. Lifting her eyes, noticing the Forbidden Section chiseled above the doorway, a glimmer of hope ignited within her. If there were ancient bakers like herself, there was a very good chance they’d guarded their best and most profound secrets hidden away.
Springing through the crypt-like repository, she moved into the foreboding side chamber. Though the room was much smaller than the central archive, the walls were practically lined with all manner of tomes and grimoires. The only problem was that none of the books seemed to be labeled all that well and, as she peeked into a few, not a single one had a table of contents. Knitting her brow, she sat herself on the floor, picked a random publication, and started skimming.
Hours passed, and the stack of tomes she’d read over got larger and larger - still, she hadn’t had the slightest bit of luck. Most of the dusty old books had all sorts of boring information, such as world-ending spells or documentation on some apparently dreadful creature called a human, yet she hadn’t come across any valuable culinary information - that was, until she did. Rifling through a particularly hefty grimoire, one that was written in some sort of sticky red ink, she found what she was looking for. As if it had been scrawled out just for her, just at that particular moment, she found the recipe.
“Flour, sugar, cocoa, salt, baking powder…” she prattled off to herself, squinting down at the list.
The ingredients weren’t anything spectacular, relatively bog-standard for a chocolate cake, but the directions were anything but. If the recipe was correct, she was supposed to consume all of the ingredients, recite a magical spell, do a little dance, then...then nothing. Something had smudged the final part of the instructions, making it unclear what was supposed to happen after the sorcerous chant and jig, although the baking directions beneath the damaged bit were left intact.
Shrewdly rubbing her chin, Pinkie got to her hooves, scooped up the tome, and began bouncing towards the exit. It didn’t appear as though much was missing from the recipe, only a scant few lines of text, so she felt certain she’d be able to work her way though it - after all, she was one of the most acclaimed party ponies in all Equestria. Skipping along to the scullery, she hoped she’d have enough time to solve the little mystery.
Though she’d hoped to be able to hang around with her friends that evening, the strange recipe demanded her full attention. The thought alone of failing to deliver the perfect coronation cake was enough to make her miserable, though it filled her with a righteous motivation to craft a pastry which possibly hadn’t been made in millenia. Reaching her destination, borrowing a cart and all the requisite ingredients for her little experiment, she headed to the staff kitchen.
What with the impending holiday, Twilight had given the castle’s staff the weekend off to relax and enjoy some time with their families; it was a sweet and magnanimous move, one which had instantly raised the personnel’s spirits, but it also meant Pinkie would have a private studio for her baking needs. Closing, locking and barricading all the doors, ensuring the secrecy of her baking, she set herself to work.
Arranging the components for the bizarre confection on a counter, she sat the tome down, cracked her hooves, and peered at the recipe. “2 cups flour, 2 cups sugar, ¾ cup unsweetened cocoa, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 1 ½ teaspoon baking soda, one teaspoon of salt, and one teaspoon of espresso powder - got it,” she recited, mixing the dry ingredients together in a large bowl.
Thus far, everything had gone off without a hitch. The powdery mix both looked and smelled correct, being very similar to a recipe she routinely used, but she wasn’t going to jinx herself - not with so much at stake. Adding and combining one cup of milk, a half cup of oil, two eggs, and two teaspoons of vanilla extract went perfectly, before she finally whisked in a cup of boiling water. Squinting down at the batter, her eyes wandered over to the open book.
“Well it says to eat it, so…” she trailed off, stepping before the concoction.
Practically jamming her head into the mixing bowl, she eagerly wolfed down the sweet, chocolatey contents. Truth be told, she really didn’t mind eating the uncooked batter - heck, if anything, having an excuse to do so was one reason she was so excited to try the recipe out! It was only after she’d licked the container clean, possibly cleaner than it had been before she used it, did she look back to the grimoire.
“Alright then,” she chirped, shuffling back to the center of the floor. “I’m supposed to dance in a circle three times, then say the incantation.”
Though she wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen after she’d uttered the incantation and did the little jig, given part of the text was obscured, she was determined to give it a try to see what happened. As she reared onto her hind legs, pointing her hooves at the ceiling, her eyes drifted closed. Even if she wasn’t able to piece together the recipe, she wouldn’t be totally out of luck - after all, it had been nearly a decade since she’d made her patented quintuple layer caramel and marshmallow torte.
“Quassum quassum stercore crustulam!” she intoned, spinning in place.
Stopping promptly on the third revolution, Pinkie froze. The room was deathly quiet and still, save for the soft sound of her breaths, but it didn’t stay that way for long. As she inspected the space around her, wondering if the little ritual had done anything whatsoever, her stomach angrily growled. Reaching for her gut, then feeling it seize and churn, a panic settled over her.
While she wasn’t sure what the enchanted spell had done, she was immediately and unquestionably stricken with the urge to use the little mare’s room. Blindly rushing to the exit, fully intent on coming back and giving the grimoire’s recipe a second shot, the harsh reality of the situation struck her. With equipment and tables heaped upon the doors leading out of the room, she was trapped.
“Fudge fudge fudge,” Pinkie silently cursed to herself, breaking into a cold sweat.
It would have been inconvenient enough to need a regular potty break, but it was much worse than that. If she didn’t find somewhere to relieve herself, and relieve herself fast, she’d have a huge mess on her hooves. Moving the barricades wasn’t an option, considering she felt as though she was going to pop any minute, which meant she’d have to improvise.
Throwing her head from side to side, looking for something - anything that would serve as a makeshift chamber pot, her eyes settled on a stack of round cake pans. As horrifying as the thought was, she had two options: either her deposit went onto the floor, or she dumped her load into something that she could secretly discard and hopefully bury later. Scampering over to the stack of steel rounds, tossing them to the floor, she wheeled around.
As she squatted down, lifting and flicking her tail to the side, she set her jaw. Her pucker bulged outward, flexing under the internal pressure, yet it didn’t yield. Despite having to go really, really badly, the disgrace of defiling a kitchen with something so unsavory subconsciously forced her to resist. Her snout scrunched up, a cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and her belly gurgled and writhed, moments before the dam broke.
Her backdoor winked open for the briefest of moments, but the moment of weakness did her in. A torrent of thick, dark waste poured from her donut, cascading into the cake pan beneath her. Much to her shame, a contented sigh escaped her. The relief was ambrosial, causing her to shiver in delight, as she emptied her bowels into one of the metal containers.
Though she dare not look back, lest she see the mess she was almost assuredly making, she could definitely hear the results of her unexpected distress. The steady sound of sloshing and splashing were punctuated by the occasional tummy grumble or brief moments of silence from her output. Reverberating throughout the relatively small chamber, with no one and nothing to distract her, each lewd noise reverberated off the unyielding steel furnishings and tiled walls.
It was an extraordinarily off-putting and confusing ordeal, leaving her feeling very uncomfortable. While it seemed like a regular bowel movement, feeling the soft-serve consistency effortlessly gushing from her backside, she could tell it was anything but. Not only had the upset hit her out of nowhere, but the downright prolific output was wholly unnatural - that being said, easing the strain on her gut was very comforting.
Punctuating her efforts with the occasional strained grunt, she contracted her abdomen and squeezed the stuff out of her bulging, yawned-open pucker. Adding to her mysterious mystery was the sheer quantity of her squirts. For all intents and purposes, it felt like she was cutting loose from several days worth of binging on sweets. The last time she’d had to go that bad was after eating some bad green apples she’d found on the side of the street!
The stream of effluence steamed the air, as it poured from her posterior. Be darned if she could explain why she’d had to suddenly use the toilet so badly, since she’d only gone a few hours ago, but it didn’t matter now - at least, that’s what she thought. Peeking back, seeing the baking tin nearly filled, she swallowed hard. She definitely didn’t feel like she was even close to being finished, yet the tray was nearly full.
Clenching as hard as she could, momentarily stemming the seemingly endless flow, she awkwardly shuffled to the side. By some merciful twist of fate, several other emptied pans had clattered to the floor nearby. Crouched above a second empty container, she cut loose once again.
The mud-like muck wetly plopped into the tray, filling it nearly as swiftly as the first, so she hastily made a second detour, then a third and a fourth, until five of the rounds were completely full. As the final drops of filth plopped from her gaped, succulent rear, she wiped her brow and inspected the scene. Thankfully, she had somehow managed to keep any of her mess off the floor - still, she then had a total of five cake pans absolutely brimming with her gooey, warm, oddly sweet-smelling…
“Wait a second…” she thought aloud, gazing down at the closest container.
I looked like...Well, it looked exactly what it was supposed to look like, but something seemed off. The room didn’t smell anything like a restroom - in fact, it smelled like she’d been doing what she’d intended on doing: making cake. Cautiously leaning forward, bringing her face the steaming tin, her eyes widened in surprise.
Nearly filling the pan to the brim, the viscous, smooth contents had the aroma of chocolate. If she hadn’t known better, having just excreted the massive, multi-tin filling load, she could have sworn she was staring down at freshly prepared, albeit oddly warm cake batter. Shakily lifting and moving a hoof towards the very suspect substance, Pinkie uneasily gulped.
If it looked like cake batter, and it smelled like cake batter, she couldn’t rightly say that it wasn’t cake batter. Over all her years of adventures, having seen all sorts of wild and wacky things, she rightly couldn’t say that the ritual she’d found hadn’t resulted in some eldritch and, if her hunch was correct, impossibly delectable confectionary foundation - a borderline abhorrent and questionable foundation, but a foundation nonetheless. Only barely dipping her forehoof into the satiny stuff, she retracted her limb, brought it to her muzzle, and closed her eyes.
It took everything she had to gather her courage and nervously extend her tongue, but she managed to do it; it was, without a doubt, one of the craziest things she’d ever tried, and that included the one time she made a gravel cake for her sister Maud. Lightly touching her hoof to the very tip of her tongue, fully prepared to gag, the most insane thing happened; her creation didn’t taste bad at all - in fact, it tasted downright amazing.
The consistency was perfect, as if all the ingredients had been perfectly prepared, and the flavor - sweet, merciful Celestia, the favor was fantastic. With all the years of baking she had under her nonexistent belt, she knew it would make an extremely decadent and moist cake - that was, so long as it was baked properly. Licking her chops, shifting her focus over to the oven, an idea coalesced. Considering it passed her exacting standards for a batter, she saw no harm in trying to finish the recipe.
Gathering up the tins, feeling fortunate that she’d unintentionally selected a stack of nonstick pans to relieve herself in, she set the oven to preheat and impatiently waited. Surely - surely, if the stuff managed to bake and rise properly, she’d have a fantastic cake on her hooves, but therein laid a problem. Even if the stuff turned out wonderfully, once stacked and layered with her signature buttercream frosting, could she bring herself to tell ponies the details of the dubious recipe?
As she mulled the matter over, she continued her preparations. By the time she was finished whipping up the frosting, letting the butter warm on the countertop, the oven was fully heated and ready to go. She typically entered a zen-like state, while baking, and this instance was no different. Before she knew it, the preparations were made, the cake was cooled, and the final assembly was completed. With a liberal application of dark chocolate shavings to the exterior, she marveled at her creation.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to try a slice, but that would ruin the presentation. So far as she could tell, having sampled a few crumbs, it met or exceeded her lofty expectations. With her masterpiece completed, and less than an hour to spare before the festivities began, she swiftly cleaned up and cleared the barricades from the doors.
The remainder of her afternoon went by in the blink of an eye - then again, she’d expected as much. Twilight’s party was too dang fun for her to keep track of time, chatting, dancing, and telling stories with her friends and the Princesses, and it culminated with everyone eagerly digging into her posterior pastry. Truth be told, between the socializing and festivities, she’d nearly forgotten about how she’d made the towering cake.
Sitting at a large, circular table, watching her friends, Celestia, and Luna gleefully munch away at slices of the confection, she anxiously watched for a reaction. The cheerful hums and enthused munching were reassuring enough, but she wanted to hear their thoughts on the matter. Straightening in her chair, she cleared her throat and drew their attention.
“Soooooooo…?” she mused, looking between the quintet of ponies.
“It’s amazing!” Twilight exclaimed, with dark crumbs lining her muzzle.
Daintily dabbing her snout, smearing some of the frosting from her pouting lips, Rarity swallowed her mouthful. “Simply exquisite, Darling - then again, I should have known you’d come up with something of this caliber.”
Applejack nodded in agreement, too busy shoveling a forkful into her maw, while Dash’s face was literally buried in her portion. Fluttershy seemed interested in saying something, but each time she opened her mouth she peeked down at her slice and helped herself to another morsel. The compliments and reactions filled Pinkie with glee, crushing her reservations over serving the eldritch and potentially cursed pastry.
Shivering with delight, Twilight sank her fork into her sliver of cake. “This has to be some new recipe, because I’d definitely remember having something this good before!”
“It is!” Pinkie blurted, immediately covering her muzzle.
The Princess of Friendship piqued a brow, as a coy little smile crept across her face. “Care to tell us your secret.”
“Well…” the pink party pony only just caught herself, swiftly shaking her head. “Actually, nevermind.”
“You simply must tell us how you crafted such a marvelous cake! Goodness, this could very well be the best confection I’ve ever had!” Rarity insisted.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, feeling as though she may burst with excitement, Pinkie reluctantly decided to let the cat out of the bag. “If you have to know…”
As she explained the tale of her creation, starting with her exploration of the castle’s forbidden archives, the ponies around her grew silent. Painstakingly recounting the story, with visceral detail, she was blissfully unaware of her friend’s reactions. The mares’ curiosity turned to dread, then outright disgust, as she explained the process she’d rediscovered.
Fluttershy excused herself, politely trotting away from the group, while Dash bolted to and through the nearest window. Applejack, to her credit, slowly slid her plate away, looking with disdain at the confection, and Rarity simply fainted. Of the three ponies remaining somewhat coherent, only Celestia seemed unbothered by the revelation.
The eldest alicorn simply sat and listened, nodding in agreement, while continuing to wolf down her slice. Upon several of the mare’s leaving, and after finishing her slice, she nonchalantly helped herself to the abandoned servings - even Applejack’s, who stared in awe at the regal Princess.
Though Twilight’s mouth hung open in disbelief, she quickly gathered herself. “So you’re telling me you ate the ingredients, then made the cake from your sh-”
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Pinkie hissed, shooting her companion a conspiratorial wink. “It’s a secret.”
“Pinkie,” Celestia smoothly intoned, having polished off every bit of cake from the table, “if you’d be so kind, I’d like to speak with you in my chamber…”
“I...I’m not in trouble, am I?” the festive mare flatly stated, her hair deflating.
Celestia tranquilly shook her head, as she unseated herself. “Not at all, but we need to discuss this method you uncovered…”
Leaving the askance Twilight, a nonplussed Luna, and a very passed-out Rarity, the duo made their leave. What with all the chatter going on, with ponies talking to one another, it didn’t appear as though Pinkie’s secret was overheard by anypony. As the firstborn Princess and her companion made their escape, the attendees gleefully savored their derriere dessert.
