Absolutely Baked

Pot Luck wasn’t much of a baker outside of brownies, but his Five Love-addled brain told him that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. Make some batter, put a lot of sugar in it and toss it in the oven for a while. Easy peasy, right?

And the only bakery in Ponyville meant all the ingredients he needed surrounded him in the kitchen. Surely he could at least make something simple. And a lot of it.

“I’ll just make some cookies,” he decided. “A few dozen oughta do it.”

He opened a cupboard and grabbed a bag of sugar. He popped it open and felt the powdery granules being moved around by his hoof. On a whim, he brought his hoof to his mouth and licked off what stuck to it.

His ears perked up. So sweet! He helped himself to another hoofful. Then another, and another, before he resorted to simply tipping the bag to his lips and letting the sugar cascade down into his gaping maw like an avalanche. Eventually, he tossed the empty bag aside and licked his muzzle clean. Part of him expected his nerves to nearly explode from all that pure sugar he had shoved into his system, but all it did was give him the energy to keep rooting through the kitchen.

Next to get his attention was a small sack of flour. Now that would be a bit silly, wouldn’t it? Eating raw flour right out of the bag without baking it? Although, he had already emptied a whole bag of sugar into his system and he was fine, so what harm would some flour do?

He dipped his face into the sack and took a chomp. The flour was chewy and plain, but he didn’t care. It was used to make things to eat, so surely that meant you could eat it by itself, right? It certainly made sense to him.

He made short work of the flour, and he felt good about it. Obviously Sugarcube Corner had been keeping hold of the good stuff for themselves. Which led him to another target.

He approached one of the industrial sized fridges lining the walls. His reddened eyes bugged out at just how that metal tower loomed over him. It had to be as big as his bathroom! He could only imagine what was waiting inside for him.

He pried open the door, letting the light inside wash over him like a god blessing him with a divine gift. On the shelves inside were everything he could ever dream of inside a bakery: Dozens of eggs, big containers stuffed with all kinds of sweet berries, compartments loaded with various fruits, cartons of thick cream and gallons upon gallons of milk.

He grabbed a tub full of strawberries and popped open the lid. He grabbed a berry and popped it in his mouth, moaning as he chewed. For a split moment, he had the feeling a farm pony was leering in his direction. Not that it deterred him from emptying the tub into his maw, then moving onto the blackberries.

In little time, he had gulped down the last berry in the fridge, and he rather enjoyed the mixture of juices that culminated around his muzzle as he licked it clean. He absolutely understood why Sugarcube Corner’s mixed berry pie was so popular, and he wished some of it was sitting out at the display window.

Maybe next time, when they get some more berries, he decided with a cheeky grin.

He opened the container of fruits and eyed its contents, before helping himself to the likes of apples, oranges, bananas and pears. They were all so fresh and juicy, the flavours mixing together on his taste buds. Then he grabbed a carton and started chugging the sweet thick liquid inside. A belch erupted from him, prompting him to cover his mouth with a hoof and blush. Now he understood why peaches and cream were so popular together.

Of course, now he needed something smoother to wash it down, which brought his attention to the jugs of milk. He tore the lid off one and tipped it to his lips, white droplets landing on his swelling stomach from his carefree chugging.

A pony in their right mind would have felt like enough was enough a long time ago. In fact, they never would have broken into a defenceless bakery in the first place. And even if so, they wouldn’t stuff themselves as intensely as Pot Luck was. Another pony would have exploded at the point he had gotten to, but for some reason, he just wasn’t full. Not yet. And something told him he never would be.

He wanted more. He needed more. He was going to get more.

He leaned back as the jug got emptier and emptier, tilting it up to get every last drop he could manage.

“Woah…!” he yelped, the empty jug toppling to the floor as he flailed his front legs, but it was in vain. With a grunt, he flopped onto his back. His huge green dome of a stomach sloshed and gurgled as it swayed back and forth from the sudden disturbance, sending another belch out of him. All four of his hooves wiggled helplessly as he tried to sit up, or at least right himself.

“Oh, this is not good,” he murmured, blinking slowly as he eyed the fridge. “I’m still hungry…!”

He wiggled his hoof toward another jug of milk, his chubby cheeks dimpling as he pursed his lips with effort and sheer desperation. He was such a sight now, like an overturned turtle with a giant green wobbly shell. A part of him was lucky at least nopony could see him.

He froze when the kitchen lights turned on, and his eyelids opened wide when he heard a voice.

“I gotcha now, treat thief!” a familiar mare’s voice declared.

Pot Luck groaned as something pony-sized flopped onto his stomach, sinking into it and enabling another burp. He looked up and saw a very pink face with bright blue eyes peering down at him.

“Wait just a sec, you’re no bagel burglar,” she said. “You’re Pot Luck!”

“Hi, Pinkie Pie,” said Pot, watching as the plump earth pony slid down the curvature of his stomach and got nose-to-nose with him.

“So here I was, having another great dreamcation in Candyland,” Pinkie yammered, “when outta nowhere, I hear chomping and chewing that isn’t mine. So I wake up and think ‘That’s kinda weird’, and I go downstairs and I see all the display windows are empty and there are crumbs and trays all over the floor! Destroyed doughnuts! Crushed cakes! Crunched cookies!”

“I–” Pot tried to explain.

“I was gonna throw ‘em out in the morning anyway,” Pinkie continued without skipping a beat, “but it’s still weird, y’know? Seeing them all vanish while the door was still locked. I figured one of Fluttershy’s little furry buds was sneaking a midnight snack, but they always clean up after themselves. And then I heard burping and chugging from in here, so I went into the kitchen and saw this big green ball! Like, really big! And then I pointed at the big ball and said–oh wait, you know this part.”

Pot Luck grunted as Pinkie hopped off of him and bounced around the kitchen, surveying the absolute mess he’d left it in.

“Sugar’s been scarfed, flour’s been devoured, milk’s been swigged…”

She slowly turned her head toward Pot Luck.

“I know exactly what’s going on here,” she said, giving him the stink eye.

Pot Luck watched her. “You do…?”

“I sure do,” Pinkie muttered, and a smile shot across her muzzle, big enough to nearly contort her face. “You were so hungry and you love our treats so much that you just had to have some right this second!”

Pot Luck blinked. Was Pinkie really giving him the stink eye? He felt like he’d just imagined it.

Grrruuuhhhrrrrrrrrr…

“Oh, and listen to that!” gasped Pinkie, gently putting a hoof on his huge soft gut. “I can’t go back to bed knowing a poor tummy needs feeding!”

A smile slowly crossed Pot Luck’s own fat face. He was starting to like where this was going. He suddenly saw Pinkie’s upside-down face as she leaned over him.

“Tell ya what, Lucky,” she went on, “with the Cakes all gone for vacation, I’m gonna need me a taste tester. Of course I do my own tasting - what baker doesn’t, right? - but somepony like you, a refined stallion who clearly appreciates the finer parts of baking to the point he’ll gobble up a sack of flour and love it, will be a really good second opinion.”

Pot Luck looked at Pinkie’s face. She was wide-eyed and excited as always, but there was a glint in her eye. One that would tell anypony else to decline that offer and run immediately. Though, he wasn’t exactly in running shape at the moment.

“Can we start right now?” he blurted out.

“We sure can!” chirped Pinkie. She squished his cheeks in her hooves. “That’s the kinda enthusiasm I wanna see in a baking assistant!”

“I know a thing or two about baking,” Pot Luck giggled. Of course, he didn’t exactly mean it the way Pinkie did.

“Even better!” From out of nowhere, Pinkie produced a sheet cake the size of a house window. “Here, this can hold you until I get some more ingredients!”

Pot’s nose twitched, and his mouth watered at the smell of vanilla, strawberry and a hint of lemon from the sheet cake. He gratefully took it in his hooves.

Pinkie bounced over to a carpet, pulling it back to reveal a trap door with ‘Open in case of snack attacks’ written on it. “I always keep spare supplies tucked away!” she chirped before opening it and hopping down.

Pot Luck greedily licked his lips before digging into the cake. He wondered what else Pinkie had in store for him…