Sunset Shimmer squints when a gleam of light flashes obtrusively in her eye. The sun is bright but it’s directly overhead; the light shouldn’t be coming from below. “Hmm?” Her brow furrows as she notices something unusual embedded in the sand, something shiny and metallic. Though she’s sure as she bends over to inspect it that it certainly can’t be anything spectacular, the idea of buried treasure is tantalizing in a way she can’t deny.

“A lamp?” she thinks aloud as she picks it out of the sand, rounded body with a handle on one end and long nozzle on the other. An old oil lamp at that; she doesn’t think this sort is even regularly used in Equestria anymore. She brushes at its surface, dirt and grime still caked to it.

And then the lamp glows. Her eyes widen, a cry that would shame her tough girl image escaping her lips, but she can’t help holding onto the smooth brass even as it heats up in her hands. A plume of smoke and crackling embers erupts from the faucet, billowing up over her and then coalescing into a solid form. A woman emerges, legs dissipating into the smoke, her curvaceous frame garbed in loose drapes of silky fabric and gilded baubles, her face framed by cropped green hair, her eyes decorated with thick streaks of ink. She smiles down at Sunset Shimmer and crosses her arms over her chest and announces, “I am Somnambula, the genie of the lamp. For freeing me, I shall grant you three wishes.

“Oh…okay” is the only thing Sunset can think to say. She looks this way and that, but there’s no one to be seen amid the coastal dunes, no sign of someone who might leap out and announce that this is an elaborate prank. It’s not that she thinks it’s inconceivable that this could be real, she’s just astonished that it’s actually happening to her. There’s a part of her that feels a twinge of guilt—she and her friends sure manage to stumble their way into a lot of unusual circumstances, maybe someone else would be more deserving of receiving magical genie wishes.

“Well…gosh, what could I wish for?” she thinks as she looks down at the lamp. She also feels guilty about looking at the genie with her voluptuous figure, so luridly on display. It seems wrong to think of that when she’s in a committed relationship with Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight…

“Can I wish for…my girlfriend to not gain weight when she eats?” she asks.

Somnambula tilts her head, seeming confused. “You want her to not gain weight? Is the beauty of girth not valued in this time period?”

“It’s…it’s not that.” A smile creeps at the edges of Sunset’s mouth as she imagines a doughier Twilight Sparkle, fumbling to put on clothes too small for her, so soft to the touch. “Twilight, my girlfriend, she’s been feeling…really self-conscious about her weight. She wants to get in better shape but it’s really hard for her to keep her appetite in check. I figure if she could just…not have to worry about how much she eats, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

The genie nods her head, scratching her chin, and she offers a warm smile. “This woman must mean a lot to you. You would not hesitate to take this weight from her?”

“Absolutely,” Sunset replies decisively.

“Very well.” Somnambula then waves her hands, tracing her fingers through the air, leaving intricate sparkling patterns in their wake, culminating in a bright flash. “It is done.”

Later

“Are you sure about this, Sunset?” Twilight Sparkle asks as she looks over the fast food spread before her, a double deluxe hamburger and curly fries and onion rings and large milkshake. She squirms with conflicted anticipation, her hunger gnawing at her, only held at bay by the thought of how she’s trying to avoid eating.

“Twilight, for the hundredth time, it’s perfectly fine.” Sunset reaches across the table and puts her hand on Twilight’s, smiling across at her. “The stress of all this just isn’t worth it. We’ll still keep an eye on what you’re eating, but we can be…looser about it. You’ll feel better, trust me.”

“If you say so.” Maybe she doesn’t entirely believe it, but the remorse slowly fades from Twilight’s face as she devours more and more of her meal, humming and crooning contentedly as she savors the greasy flavors.

Meanwhile, from beside Sunset Shimmer: “This sandwich has…so many sauces.” Somnambula lifts the bun from her own burger and peers at the gooey mess of patties and toppings and condiments. Sunset thought that the genie would just retreat to her lamp after making her wish, but she’s continued to follow her. Fortunately, only the genie’s master can see her, as well as anything enchanted by her aura, so Sunset doesn’t have to answer any awkward questions about why this exotic stranger has been tagging along with her.

Then she takes a bite out of the burger, juices gushing over her lips and fingers, and her eyes light up in wonder. “Oh goodness,” she remarks with a smear of ketchup on her chin, “oh gods, this is…this is like divine ambrosia! How could mere mortals have created such a concoction?!” She proceeds to devour her own meal even more voraciously than Twilight.

Sunset Shimmer makes a nervous chuckle, glad that they’re both enjoying themselves, even if it makes her feel a little nervous about eating herself. She thinks that the warmth she feels within her is just the tingling of happiness, the joy that comes from helping others.

Later Still

Twilight Sparkle scoops out the last runny bit of ice cream from the cup. She hums thoughtfully, twirling the spoon in her hands before she tosses it into the trash, clattering against a couple dozen of its brethren. Normally she’d have her ice cream in a cone, but under these circumstances she decided that cups would be more beneficial—no diluting the flavor with crumbly wafer fragments at the end of the experience. She artfully straightens her glasses, takes up her pen, and flips to a new page of her notebook. “Pumpkin cheesecake flavor,” she narrates aloud while she writes down her notes, “gentle creamy texture, curiously early for the season this year.”

“Wouldn’t mind some of that autumn chill coming a little early too,” Sunset remarks.

“What’s that?” Twilight asks, pen held to the page.

“Oh, nothing.” A long sigh.

Sunset herself is wearing a rather out-of-season sweater and sweatpants. She wore them with the excuse that they would be jogging. It definitely wasn’t because they were the best clothing she could find that would obscure her thickening figure, her flabbier arms and developing paunch. She doesn’t know how she’s put on so much weight.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be thinking about that while she’s eating ice cream herself. This is definitely just to cool off from the heat and for no other reason. It’s certainly nothing compared to what Twilight’s been scarfing down in her efforts to document every flavor from the shop.

“How do they…come up with all these…these flavors?” Somnambula asks betwixt lapping at a giant multicolored stack of ice cream scoops, one of several that she has floating around her. If nothing else, she serves as a walking (or floating) reminder that Sunset’s growth could be worse, her belly spilling over her waist and her thighs jutting to the sides.

Or maybe she’s an ominous portent of what is yet to come.

Much Later

“Come on, Sunset, you know you can have more than that, right?” Twilight says with a smirk, pointing to her tray.

A low, indistinct grumble emanates from Sunset’s throat, mirrored by one deep in her stomach, as she looks at her meager bowl of salad and then at the plates of fried chicken and sauteed vegetables and glistening pasta on Twilight’s side of the table. It’s a terrible reminder of her hunger, but it’s better than looking at her bosom, jutting in front of her, though not as far as her gut, a glob of fat that fills her lap and takes both arms for her to reach around. Actually, this morning she was having a hard time touching her fingers together when she tried to heft the orange glob. Somehow she suspects that her efforts to ration herself aren’t going to help.

“Sunset.” She looks up again, and Twilight is gazing at her, her eyes feigning sternness though her mouth is fixed in a smirk. “I seem to recall it was you who said that we can’t always stress about these things,” she says, waving a fork with a piece of broccoli speared on it. “Just enjoy yourself! It’s not like it’ll cost us any more anyway, it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

(Actually, these excursions have been costing them nothing for a while, since Sunset used her second wish to get a magical credit card that draws funds from the bank accounts of local wealthy business tycoons; Filthy Rich won’t be hurting from paying for a few extra meals.)

“Alright, fine,” Sunset relents, and she hauls herself to her feet. She tries not to think about whoever else in the dining hall might be looking at her, her gelatinous frame wobbling in clothes that are getting far too small for her, fleshy folds spilling over collars and hems and sleeves. No doubt anyone who sees her thinks she must be the exact kind of person who frequents an establishment like this.

There would be no better time for Somnambula not to be invisible. Then the spectacle of the genie ravaging the buffet tables might provide enough of a distraction for Sunset to go unnoticed. The aura of perceived mundanity which she exudes makes it so that no one even takes notice of the food that seems to blink out of existence as she plucks it from the serving trays, either deposited on one of her own floating plates or deposited straight into her maw. No passerby even seems to find it odd when they get sideswiped by her swinging rump and fall over.

Sunset’s going to have to be quick, or there’ll be nothing left to eat.

Even More Later

“What the…?”

Sunset Shimmer marvels when she pulls out a set of underwear that looks like it’s more than four times wider than anything she’s ever worn, a dainty cloth parachute. She looks through her dresser and closet; the same enlarging has happened to her blouses and skirts and pants, her leather jacket, even her belts. The strain from this exertion of sifting through all the drawers and hobbling across the room, spurred on by her surprise, has her breathing harshly.

“Somnambula!” she shouts to the empty room.

A puff of smoke materializes, a huge blue-green cloud that billows over Sunset before dissipating, revealing Somnambula. “Yes, Master?” she asks, maintaining her usual regal affect despite how different her voice sounds on account of the flabby jowls surrounding her face and the folds girding her neck, and the mouthful of muffin that she’s chewing on. She’s manifesting with complete legs and feet at the moment, fatty stumps resting on the floor, and her overflowing apron of a belly isn’t far from making contact with it too. She could easily just lean back on her rear if she wanted to; her buttocks are broader than any sofa Sunset has seen.

“Did you…did you do something to my clothes?” Sunset asks with tentative crossness. She can’t help being frustrated given her present circumstances, even if this is something that’s completely beneficial to her. It’s been a few days since she last had clothing that properly fit her.

“Oh, yes, I felt like enlarging it all for you,” she replies with a soft, guttural chuckle, waving a doughy mitt of a hand. “No wish required, I assure you. I was already enlarging my own wardrobe and I thought I might as well do the same for you.” She pats the silky veil that covers her voluminous chest—her breasts are comparatively small in proportion to the rest of her bottom-heavy enormity, but they’re still bigger than beach balls. Sunset realizes that she never thought about how, over the course of the time since the genie entered her life, her outlandish costume has never seemed undersized, always revealing the same relative quantity of pastel scarlet skin.

“It wouldn’t need enlarging if I could stop enlarging,” she grumbles under her breath as she pulls a shirt over herself. She used to wear this orange sun pattern shirt all the time, comfortably resting on her shoulders, now it drapes over the sprawling folds that comprise her figure. Somnambula may have skyrocketed past her, but she’s still very plainly obese, and being able to wear clothes again isn’t going to make it any easier for her to be as active as she once was. Her stomach growls, a monstrous rumble that causes her belly to quake, and the thought of eating breakfast prompts her to wail in exasperation. “I’m practically starving myself and I’m still turning into a whale!”

“Well of course,” the genie says while working on another muffin, “you’re not going to stop as long as Twilight Sparkle keeps gorging herself.”

Sunset stares at her, jaw going slack.

Somnambula turns, seemingly staring vacantly into the distance, and licks her lips. “She’s having quite the large breakfast as we speak, as a matter of fact. Pancakes, omelets, sausages, oh it just makes me want to—”

“What’re you talking about?” Sunset interjects, a simmering fury under the surface of her voice.

Now Somnambula stares at her blankly, blinks, and asks, “You mean all this time you didn’t realize that Twilight’s gains are being transferred into you?”

“Realize…what?!”

“Oh, Master, I’m…I’m so sorry, I thought you understood.” She shakes and hangs her head, creasing the folds around her chin and neck. Only now does her binging go forgotten. “All that mass has to go somewhere, you know? And you said you would take the weight from her, I thought you meant you were accepting the burden.”

Sunset groans, throwing her hands up in the air—even that gesture is hampered by the girthy sleeves which envelop her arms. “I don’t believe this! I’m a blob, I can barely fit in a car anymore!”

Somnambula glides closer to her, a drifting fleshy zeppelin. “Master, you still have one wish left, you can use it to undo this one.”

“But then I’d have to explain to Twilight why she has to stop eating all over again.” She makes a pitiable whimper as she flops on her bed. The bed chooses this moment to sunder beneath her, the frame collapsing with a sickening crunch. She barely notices, only inadvertently reacting through the jiggling of her rear.

With the weight, the reality, piling upon her, she understands that there’s only one avenue she can take. “I’m going to have to talk to her anyway,” she mumbles into the mattress.

A Little Later

“A…genie?” Twilight Sparkle asks skeptically.

“Twilight, you can’t tell me that this is the part that’s straining credibility,” Sunset Shimmer says, leveling a flat stare at her (one of the few ways she can be “flat” at this point).

“Well, I…yes, I suppose it isn’t, but still…a genie?” She shakes her head and shrugs.

“Twilight, this is…I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Okay, I get it, I’m just…I’ll try not to get hung up on it.”

They both take a deep breath and exhale.

“I don’t know what to say, Sunset,” Twilight says, “I wish you’d…I don’t know, consulted with me about this before you went ahead with it. Maybe we could’ve caught onto this slip-up in the phrasing at least if we’d planned it together.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Sunset replies, “you were so stressed out about this eating problem you had. I thought it would be better if you could enjoy yourself without being worried.”

“Sunset, we should both being enjoying ourselves, and each other.” Twilight places her hand on her shoulder, fingers sinking gently into the layer of pliant flab. Then she gently caresses along the surface of her skin, probing the folds around her neck. “Didn’t you ever think it was weird that I wasn’t getting upset about what was happening with you?”

Sunset perks up and glances at her from the protective curtain of her bangs. “You mean…you don’t mind that I’m…fat?”

“Not really.” Twilight scoots over on the bench, squeezing tighter into Sunset’s bulk. “You feel so much nicer to hug while you’re like this. And…” A faint blush rises in her cheeks. “I suppose seeing you like this makes me feel less self-conscious about the idea of being overweight myself. I think I’ve been eating more lately just to see if I’d start putting on some more pounds.” She laughs. “I can see now that they’ve been going somewhere else the whole time.”

Sunset smiles, her cheeks dimpling. “I guess that’s a load off my shoulders, I’d kinda been wishing that you’d…just accept the way you are, gluttony and all.”

“Well, you can wish for whatever you want now, can’t you?”

“One more time, anyway, I’m on my last wish.”

“Hmm…” Twilight rubs Sunset’s overflowing belly as she thinks. “Why don’t you let me see that lamp?”

Sunset takes the lamp out of her handbag—it feels like it’s grown heavier over time, but she can’t be sure how much of that is its inhabitant’s growth and how much is the strain she feels from movement. Twilight takes it gingerly, keeping her hands still as she inspects it. Sunset clears her throat to remind her to stay on task. “There’s no reason the genie can’t have two masters at once, is there?” she asks with a smirk.

“I suppose not.” Sunset scratches her flabby chin. “We never actually talked rules much, come to think of it, but I think she’s pretty agreeable.”

“It can’t hurt to give it a test, then!”

When Twilight rubs the lamp, a lot more steam billows out of it than there was the first time Sunset did it, a great cloud of mist that could have swallowed up both of them. It’s not as graceful either when Somnambula emerges from the fog, not a resplendent spirit but a titanic mountain of flesh, and the instant she finishes manifesting she crashes to the ground with a thunderous quake, her form wobbling gelatinously. The concrete park path splits apart, and leaves flutter from trees around them. She holds in her hands a fork and a plate with a hunk of cake, flecks of icing around her lips, her jaws open as if in the middle of eating. She looks in silence from Sunset to Twilight.

“Oh…my God,” Twilight exclaims, looking even more heated—maybe Sunset didn’t need to feel so guilty about ogling the genie after all.

“Ah, Twilight Sparkle,” Somnambula says as she collects herself, unperturbed, “it is good to properly meet you, which must mean that you are also my master now.”

“You see? I told you she’d be okay with it,” Sunset says, nudging Twilight with her elbow.”

“You d-didn’t say she was that f-f-fat!” Twilight stammers, her whole face turning red.

“Is that a problem?” She raises an eyebrow.

“…N-no, I don’t mean it’s a problem, but…” Twilight stares down at Sunset now, her voluminous figure.

“Just think of it this way.” Sunset takes one of Twilight’s hands and places it on her flabby bosom, while she places her own palm upon the smaller woman’s chest, and she grins. “Now we’ve got a goal to work toward.”

Twilight’s breath goes still for a moment.

Somnambula looks on and laughs and wobbles between bites of cake.

The Last Later

“Alright, that’s all of it!” Sunset Shimmer announces as she brings the final stack of pizza boxes into the den.

“All of it?” Twilight’s voice rings in from the kitchen.

“Yup.” She deposits the stack with the others on the precariously overloaded coffee table, a miniature barricade. “They had to bring three cars to carry the whole delivery.”

“Who’s footing the bill this time?”

“I believe it would have been the CEO of an IT company by the name of Chrysalis,” Somnambula interjects.

Sunset makes a bark of laughter.

Twilight Sparkle then emerges from the kitchen with her arms full of soda bottles. She’s followed by a gelatinous glob of flesh which squeezes through the doorway, flowing like a liquid, eventually resolving into the defined form of a gut and breasts. Somnambula’s rump takes a more concerted effort for her to extricate, buttocks like hills which rise past her shoulders. She seems to slide across the floor, a huge wad of butter on a hot griddle. The genie occupies approximately half of the whole room, squeezing into corners, spilling amorphously around furniture, and she also takes approximately half of the pizzas for herself, levitating them toward her and getting to work on devouring them. For the best, since now the stacks are short enough that Sunset and Twilight can sit on the sofa—groaning in protest, frame sagging beneath Sunset so that Twilight has to lean toward her—and actually see the TV across from them.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” Twilight says eagerly, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips.

“Hon, I was born ready,” Sunset replies, grinning.

Flinging open the first of the pizza boxes, they look at the glistening cheese and sauce and crust. Taking the whole box in her arms as if it’s a big plate just for her, Twilight pulls up a slice, gooey strands of cheese dragging away. Her eyes sparkle behind her glasses.

Then she turns to Sunset, leaning over her sprawling bulk so that she can get close enough to bring the slice to her lips. She opens her mouth to accept this offering, biting in and pulling off a chunk of the cheesy dough. She hums contentedly as she chews before swallowing and then takes another bite. Twilight takes the opportunity to squeeze a handful of her flabby folds between slices. The necklace around her swollen neck, a thin chain supporting a six-pointed pink star, glows faintly.

The feast goes on for a while, with the show they have playing on the TV largely serving the role of background noise alongside Somnambula’s munching and gnashing and occasional belching. Intermittently Twilight indulges in some of the pizza or a drink for herself, but otherwise she’s content just to feed Sunset. She subsists on the warmth which her fleshy form exudes, though she also grows increasingly conscious over time of the heat which is welling up within her own body, the way the two of them ooze and compress upon each other.

After the tenth pizza, Twilight stops to take a deep breath, and she feels the tightness of her skin, the weight which spills from her midsection. She looks down at herself, and she sees a stomach that is distinctly convex, pushing out her shirt. There’s also her own necklace with a glowing sun pendant which rests over her chest. The genie was more than happy to make “amendments” to Sunset’s original wish, like making it so the transfer was associated with these necklaces instead of just being active at all times, and allowing the transfer to go both ways instead of just one. Twilight had to use one of her own wishes, however, to wish for “convenience” in a broad sense: easier mobility, clothing that never tears, a manageable appetite, minimized health complications, and so on.

“What do you think?” Sunset asks in a sensual purr, reaching out so she can delicately place her hand upon Twilight’s torso, feeling her newfound pliancy. “We can always wish to be as big as her if you can’t stand the idea of waiting.”

They both look at Somnambula, who is still stuffing pizza into her face at a languid pace, groaning and gurgling; her sprawling immensity definitely appears to be even greater than it had been a few minutes ago.

“No way,” Twilight says resolutely, and she turns back and lays herself over Sunset, still so much bigger than her, a living mattress in comparison, “eating our way to get there is half the fun.”

They embrace, Twilight sinking into Sunset, and kiss, licking crumbs and flecks of sauce from around their lips at the same time.

Author's Note

I had this particular inkling for a scene that starts with Sunset finding a lamp and unveiling a genie version of Somnambula, but I didn't know what kind of genie-related antics to do after that. I raised the matter to my patrons and the first thing that stuck out to me was weight gain redirection, even though I knew that it would be too much to do for what was supposed to be just a short scene. So instead this just ended up being more of an anthology of scenes. While I was already in over my head I decided that I might as well do some funny stuff with Somnambula alongside the drama with Sunset and Twilight. Feel it got kind of weak toward the end but whatever.

Did you know that there was a G1 character named Somnambula? That's not related to this, I just thought it was weird when I discovered it.

Do you ever notice how many of my stories take place in summer/the warm parts of the year?

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