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// Day One - A Temporary Solution 
// Story: Bowstring and the Fantastical Fattening Farce 
// by MetalBrony20 
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“Oh no no, I could swear there was some more caster sugar in here!” It was a fine Wednesday morning in the bustling city of Manehatten. Ponies were going about their day in the pleasant weather, either at work or at school. One such mare, however, was having some rather unfortunate problems. An Earth Pony by the name of Berry Pie currently had her head and most of her torso jammed into a small cupboard, looking desperately for an ingredient she needed. “No caster, no granulated, no demerara, oh this won’t do at all!” With some effort, she managed to extricate herself from the wooden frame, the edges of her arms being squeezed in the gap.

Berry Pie was a typical individual in modern Equestria. Maybe slightly fatter than the average, given her occupation and love for confectionary. Whereas the average weight of ponies hung around the 250 pound mark, she was considerably wider. Just last week, she had hit 350 pounds, an achievement she revelled in. Currently, she was dressed in extra, extra-large work top and trousers, with a tablecloth like apron draped over her monumentally large gut. Easily the largest part of her, that jiggling slab of blubber rolled the bottom of her shirt up, the buttons straining around the thick mass of rolls and folds that sagged past her crotch and to her thighs.

With each motion she made with her body, it would act like a pendulum, continually fighting against the mass of blubber constraining it. This was somewhat counterbalanced by the pair of flabby ass cheeks jutting out. Like a pair of basketballs slapping against a gymnasium floor, so too did they slap against one another, light clapping emanating when those globes collided jucily. These were supported by column-like legs, sporting doughy slabs of cellulite, forcing her to adopt a waddle whenever she walked.

A well-rounded pair of breasts pressed firmly against her top, the orbs sloshing as her fruitless search continued, as she pushed bags and boxes of baking ingredients aside to try and find some sugar. Alas, she came away empty handed, a tint of embarrassment and slight frustration present on her cherubic, wobbling cheeks. Extracting herself from the shelving, she gave a small huff, as she wracked her brains, thinking of where she could get some sugar from at short notice before the day began.

“Stupid stupid! I can’t believe that we are out. I’m normally so careful.” Glancing up, she looked at the clock, noting the time. This did little to ease her worries, as every tick of the hand brought her closer to the start of the day, to the start of having nothing to sell but day-olds. Drumming her fingers against a nearby worksurface, she suddenly had a thought. “Wait… what if I was to use my special ingredients? No… that would be stupid… would it… hmm.” Tapping herself on the slab of her double chin, she mulled overusing her own special ingredients.

You see, there was more than one reason why she was larger than the average pony. For one, she was a baker, and as an extension, her taste tester as well. Living in a bakery and eating the vast majority of the stuff she couldn’t sell had a marked effect on her already generous proportions. However, unlike most ponies that only liked being somewhat fat, she absolutely revelled in the feeling. Of overeating, of feeling her clothing strain and tear, of the feeling her already obese body swelling with excess calories like a balloon overfilled with helium. Whilst she liked to eat her standard, family recipes, she also liked to substitute in some special ingredients.

Special ingredients that had, among other things, sugar. Briefly considering the moral problems of spiking her normal products with the stuff, she made up her mind. “Aww, why the hay not. I’ll order in some replacements by tomorrow, and everything will be fine.” Nodding to herself, she trotted through to a small hatch, which revealed a small basement. It was mostly packed with a myriad of both baking equipment, and more personal items, all liberally coated in dust. Descending the steps, she pulled the hanging cord, a singular bulb igniting after a few flashes and blinks. She approached a specific wooden crate, covered in official looking stamps and labels, flipping the lid with her pudgy digits. “Bingo.”

Reaching in, she pulled out a hefty sack. It had very few labels attached to the mostly plain white bag. Tracing her fingers around the smooth vinyl of one of the stickers, she looked at the words. ‘Warning: Product is classified as a grade 3 health warning, with multiple debilitating side effects including increased weight gain, degradation of hygiene and addiction. Use product only under guidelines of a health official.’ She smirked, remember the deals she had to go through to acquire this bag of pleasure. Lots of asking friends of friends and getting some insight on certain shipments.

Placing the lid back on the crate, she hefted the bag in one arm, turning off the light as she emerged back onto the ground floor of the shop. With a loud thump, she placed it atop the counter, taking a deep breath as she began to flick through her family’s ancient cookbook, double checking the text that she had committed virtually to memory. “It’s no biggie… I’ll just add in the new stuff, order in some replacement stock, and everything should be plain sailing.” She chuckled, before picking up the pace, trying to cover for the lost time since her delay earlier.

As she quickly whipped up chocolate fudge cake, she popped it in the oven with a satisfying metallic clunk as the baking tray, along with it’s calorie dense passenger, were placed into the roaring cooker. Pulling out two cupcake trays, she let time pass by in a flurry of culinary creations, stemming back generations of bakers like herself. Back into the groove, she eagerly awaited the day, looking forward to seeing her regulars making the trip to her humble shop. Rolling out dough, she prepared for another regular day.