Chapter 1: Stable 82
Shooting Star’s gun twirled on the tip of her wing, minute movements causing it to spin along the trigger. The safety was set into the ‘on’ position, of course, which ended up being the smart thing to do as the gun went flying through the air, slamming against the wall of the security office with a loud clang. Her tufted ears folded back, pinning against her head.
Her office was, well, tiny. In a way, it made sense. They had only been underground for three days and, as the only security officer assigned, had done absolutely nothing. She didn’t need to do much. The citizens were still settling in and all but the strongest were reeling emotionally. The terminal in her office was devoid of any communication. Nobody had sent her any mail, or acted out in any way. She hadn’t resolved any conflicts. But today was different.
Today, there were complaints. Today, the e-mail titled “WHERES THE FUCKING GYM” arrived. Today, Shooting Star, security officer of Stable 82, was going to investigate complaints that the exercise room depicted on the map of the stable didn’t exist.
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
“...And see, there’s nothing.”
Shooting Star narrowed her eyes at the wall she stood in front of. The bat pony looked down at the map in her gray hoof, squinting at the paper, too. “Gym”, said the map. Nothing, said the wall. There wasn’t even a door -- it was as if the space that was cleared out for the gym was filled back in while they built the place.
She double checked to make sure she had the right hall, taking a few steps back to see what was down the corridor to the left. A small sign with the words “CLINIC” were illuminated by a dull, electric light. Back down to the map, a bit of blue mane bouncing into her vision, and sure enough to the left of where she thought she was a little label called “CLINIC”, right where it should be.
Right ahead of it, down the corridor Shooting was standing in front of, was “GYM”, but when she looked forward at the corresponding place in the physical world there was nothing. She was in the right spot, but the door wasn’t.
The gym literally didn’t exist.
“Maybe it’s somewhere else,” Shooting Star offered up, giving a little roll of one of her shoulders. She never did like wearing uniforms, and the armor she had strapped to her chest was even worse thanks to it’s bulk. Still, considering they’d only been underground for such a short time, she didn’t want to piss off the Overmare immediately, so she wore it like she was told.
“Well, where?” The unicorn snipped, words short and coarse. If she remembered correctly, the mare was Mint Chip. She wasn’t an athlete, but an ice cream parlor owner. The bowl of green lumps on her flanks backed up this theory.To her credit, the exercise regimen she had herself on worked, slipping to the gym after her shifts at the parlor to keep herself trim despite a steady diet of ice cream. Unicorns usually had a softness to them that this one didn’t, her chestnut coat clinging to her musculature and outlining some lithe curves.
“Not sure,” Shooting replied. As the unicorn’s eyes narrowed, her wing extended just a smidge to brush against the handle of her gun, making sure it wasn’t left on the floor of her office.
“Because -- look, the engineer ponies, they haven’t gotten the food dispensers fixed.” Mint Chip drew in a heavy breath before letting it all out. “So I don’t mean to get coarse with you, but I haven’t eaten anything but snack cakes and ice cream in three days, and I really need to work out.” Each word was hissed.
Shooting’s brow creased. They hadn’t? She assumed by now the ponies working in the galley on the food dispensers had fixed them by now, but she hadn’t been there in… over a day? As if on cue, her stomach let out a low growl. Yes, probably over a day. “Alright. Listen,” Shooting said, reaching a hoof out to rest on Mint’s shoulder. She calmed immediately, letting out a breath. “I’m going to find the gym. And when I do, you are the first pony I will inform. You’ll get first crack at the new equipment. Deal?” She knew it wasn’t the answer Mint Chip was looking for, but it was the best one she had.
“Yeah,” Mint Chip said, punctuating it with a sigh. “That’s… fine.” Her expression lost its edge as her scowl leveled out. “Thank you, Shooting.”
“No problem,” she said, mouth pulling back into a smile. Her little white fangs poked out from the top of her mouth outside of her grin, visible. “Stay safe, Mint.”
“You too. And get something to eat,” Mint said, nodding towards her. “I can hear your stomach from here. Some of the other mares, they aren’t adjusting well -- they refuse to eat. Stay strong, okay?”
“Yeah. I was going to head there now, anyway.” She bowed her head. “I’ll find you as soon as I find the gym,” she said, before she turned.
Alone, she turned down the clinic hall before she paused and shook her head. Where was the galley, again?
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
As it turns out, the engineering ponies of Stable 82 were not quite as good at fixing things as they thought they were. At least, that was the consensus going around the Stable as they declared they couldn’t fix the issues plaguing the cafeteria. Or… was it a galley? Shooting had heard both the past few days, and just stopped caring after the conversation came up enough times.
“It isn’t broken,” one of them said. Unicorn, blue coat with a darker blue mane. The bandana she wore around her head was stained with grease, as were her hooves and parts of her jumpsuit, too. Still, that cutie mark comprised of a blueberry and a set of gears arguably made her the most qualified out of all of them without more research; nobody else seemed to have an mechanical skill. She’d know best, Shooting thought, but the other ponies disagreed. “This is what it’s designed to do!”
A chorus of “boo”s echoed through the large dining room. In fact, the longer Shooting thought about it the weirder it’s size was. Just like the gym, she could have sworn it was different than the map. Bigger, and the rooms around it smaller.
Even with it’s size, the metal interior of the stable reverberated sound and the room was filled with a cacophony of angry ponies, shouting about this or that. She couldn’t keep up with everything, her ears flattening against her head at all the noise. It was a racket, and the moment the crowd started closing in on the small crew of engineers, Shooting stepped in. She’d come here for a meal, but it could wait -- her job commanded she have something to do.
“Hey, hey!” She shouted as she stepped into the fray, still wearing her armor with her holster filled. “That’s enough! That’s enough!” Her voice raised to a shout as she was ignored, the sound from her chest was louder than the crowd. Ponies started quieting down, the dozens of pairs of eyes locking onto the loudest of the group: Shooting Star. “Listen, they are trying their best,” she said, voice still raised to make sure everyone could hear them. “I know everyone is frustrated, believe me, but getting mad at them isn’t helping.”
Behind her, Shooting could hear the engineer pair agree. The crowd died down for a short moment before one mare in particular stepped forward. She was a smidge taller, maybe an inch, but had quite a few pounds on Shooting. She recognized her as the earth pony mare who owned the donut shop back in Hollow Shades, and being around desserts all the time had a noticeable effect on her figure, being quite heavy set and one of the most overweight in the stable. Blue coat, tan mane and a glazed donut on her wide flanks -- bottom heavy, too. “And who do you think you are?” she said between gritted teeth. “Are you the Overmare?”
“No, I’m not, bu-”
“Then why do you think what you say matters? Get out of the way so we can get answers! We’re locked in here, and we don’t even know if the megaspells really hit.” She pressed forward, stepping right into Shooting’s personal space without a hint of hesitation.
Shooting didn’t give up an inch. Her eyebrows creased as she looked her flat in the eyes, staring her down. “One more time, I’m going to warn you,” she said, glare never wavering. “If you think you are going to get any closer to the engineering ponies, you are wrong. They’re innocent. They are doing far more than you are to help the situation.”
The donut flanked mare flared her nostrils as she kept her stance for a few moments, but when Shooting remained right in place she faltered after a few moments. Stamping a hoof against the metal floor, the heavy set mare spun on her hoof and stomped away, the violent motions causing the mare’s too-tight jumpsuit to wobble against her thick figure.
“Are there any other concerns?” Shooting said, head pointing to the crowd in whole, looking left to right. The angry glare that tinted her face when up close with the donut mare was gone, replaced by a calm, serene softness of expression. Whether it was the armor and weapons she carried or the way with which she was able to handle the situation, the crowd’s anger petered out. There were a few angry holdouts, but most of the group had calmed down if not just started to wander away. “Give them time. A little more. I’m sure we can figure out something. Okay?”
Ponies shuffled on, some returning to the dispensers despite their lack of desired food. Others stomped out of the galley, disappearing behind the metal doors, but the crowd dispersed nonetheless. By the time Shooting turned around, the pair of engineers had disappeared too.
She hadn’t eaten in over a day, but after the adrenaline started pumping her appetite blew away in the verbal battle. The hair on her neck was still standing up straight and her ears hadn’t resurfaced out of her mane, but she’d done well. Physical conflict avoided. With nobody at a boiling point any longer, she turned and exited.
“Hey,” the engineer mare said, trotting a little faster to catch up to Shooting Star in the hallway. “I just wanted to thank you for that, back there.”
“It’s fine. That’s my job,” Shooting said, pausing in her step to turn and smile at the mare. Apparently she’d just gotten out of the room, but didn’t go far. “While I have you here, though, two things. What’s your name, and… what really is going on with the food dispensers?”
The unicorn took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “Blueberry Cream,” she said, introducing herself. “And, as far as we’ve been able to tell so far, the dispensers were… designed this way.”
“In… what way? To only dispense, what, junk food?”
“Best as we can tell,” Blueberry Cream said, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. “Nothing is broken. Nothing is missing. The manuals we have, we’re looking over them, they don’t… the machines are slightly different. Mostly that everything is either prepackaged snack or dessert. There’s no kind of ‘real’ food,” she said, “just… junk. I mean, it’s filling enough, and we can survive on it, but… it’s a lot of sugar. A lot of ponies -- it’s mostly worrying about weight. We have a lot of athletes here. They were hoping for more protein, less sugars.”
As far as Shooting could tell, she was right. There were an inordinate amount of athlete ponies in the stable, there having been an Equestrian Games pre-event traveling through the relatively small town at the exact moment the call was made to evacuate. There wasn’t anything for them to do in Hollow Shades, but they did soak up all the hotel rooms.
Blueberry Cream, however, was not one of those mares. She was soft of build above ground, and that hadn’t changed with her admission into the stable.
“Right,” Shooting said. “Have you checked the storage areas? The dispensers must be pulling food from somewhere, aren’t they? What if we go look down there?”
“Already tried. All the doors into the basement storage areas are locked, and none of our manuals have any kind of information on it. We should have access to them,” she said, looking down and nodding her head at the ID badge on her chest, which, being in Engineering, should have given her access to everything. “But we get denied. Overmare only. Who… I haven’t seen in, well… Actually, I haven’t ever seen her.”
“I’ve spoken with her,” Shooting said, giving a short nod. “I’ll see if I can’t get a hold of her again and get access down there. You haven’t had a chance to check out the farming rooms, have you? I know food is getting to be the big thing around here already, how quick can we get those operational?”
“I… well, farming isn’t exactly my thing,” Blueberry said, mane bobbing as she shook her head. “But, we could go take a look? Gizmo turned tail, she’s probably half way back to her room by now, but I’m curious and I feel kind of bad.” She gave a little sigh, grin turning lopsided. “If I can’t fix the dispensers, I’d like to see if we can get the apples growing.”
Shooting tapped at the green screen that was now screwed onto her wrist. A Pipbuck, the stable mechanic told her. A few pokes earlier had shown her there was already a map on the device, so she’d abandoned the paper one some time ago. Soon enough, she had a detailed layout of the Stable on the screen, directions to the farming rooms committed to memory.
“Down this way,” Shooting Star said, nodding down the hallway as they both began to trot that direction. “So… other than the dispensers, is everything else operating normally?”
“Oh, yes,” Blueberry said, keeping pace. “As far as Gizmo and I can tell, from the limited knowledge we have, yes. Everything is operating at optimal levels. The water talisman is fine, the generator is at max efficiency, all systems are operational. Just the food stores are, well, out of whack. Oh -- also, we couldn’t find any spare parts for the gym, either,” Blueberry said. “There’s a section for them, but it’s empty. Make sure ponies don’t beat up the equipment too bad, we might not be able to fix some of it.”
Shooting bit her tongue at the news, keeping herself from expressing the surprise she wore on her face. Thankfully, she was ahead, and she could keep her demeanor calm. That won’t be an issue, she thought. “Right. I’ll make sure of it. But, hey,” she said, pausing in her trot to point a hoof ahead of them. A large, lighted sign in the middle of the hallway’s roof stated “FARM”. With no hesitation, the pair marched right to the door and pushed it open, walking in.
The room was wide open and spacious; easily the largest in the entire stable. A ceiling reaching up a good twelve or thirteen feet stretched out above them, and Shooting gawked up at it. This room was big enough to easily fly in! A wave of relief washed over her, before she looked across the rest of it. A shining sun - or, at least, a digital mock up of one - rose high in the air, bathing the room in bright white light. Her eyes stung at the sight, burning as her slitted pupils immediately started shrinking, but any pony would be happy to see some sign of the outdoors after days of being underground even if it was fake.
Her gaze lowered, and a pang of guilt for feeling relieved smacked her right in the chest. The big, green plots of land were anything but. There was nothing green here. The spacious room was filled with dirt in neat little tracts but the luscious green grass that should have been ready for planting had nothing at all. It was just dirt. Boring, shitty, dirt.
Frustration bit at Shooting’s emotions, little demons of anger clawing up inside of her. She fought them down -- the toughest days had yet to come, and she had to maintain a level head. Even if it was only until she got back to her room. Blueberry sighed behind her, prompting her to give a little frustrated groan herself.
The tank of a mare that was standing in the back of the room perked up at the noise. She was snout deep into some sort of container, raising up when she realized company had entered. She was just plain large, built like, well, a horse. She had a good eight or nine inches on most stallions in the stable, and several dozen pounds, too, in the form of stocky muscle. The faded red coat that bathed her body clung tight to her musculature, dirty blonde mane tied up in a bun behind her head.
And an apple on her cutie mark. This, Shooting stereotyped, was their farmer.
“Ya’ll wouldn’t happen to know where a mare can get some apple seeds ‘round here, would you?” Her voice rumbled low.
“There aren’t any here?” Shooting asked.
“Darlin’, would Ah be askin’ if there were?” she asked, voice tinted by a heavy southern drawl. Her head lowered back towards the metal locker she was in a moment ago, nodding towards it. “This is the seed storage.” Her back leg stretched to kick it open, swinging it wide to reveal an abundance of nothing. “Empty. Ain’t a one. Dryer than yer grandmother in a desert.”
Shooting paused for a moment, blinked her eyes, then spoke to the earlier comment. At least, she tried, before just closing her mouth. There weren’t any seeds. There wasn’t a gym. There were malfunctioning food vendors -- or, rather, perfectly functioning food vendors that didn’t have anything but snack cakes.
“This,” Blueberry said, reminding Shooting she was still there, “actually kind of sucks.”
Shooting Star chewed her bottom lip, ears pinning back as she tensed her legs, trying to calm herself. “I don’t understand,” she said out loud, half to herself. “Nothing… none of this makes sense. This place -- it’s supposed to be self sufficient.” She glanced up at the other two mares, shaking her head. “We can’t grow food. All we really have are these calorie bombs in the galley.”
“Gym’s missin’, too,” the apple pony said. When Shooting looked at her with widened eyes, she added, “yeah, you noticed that too? Ah’ve been lookin’. Ain’t where it’s supposed t’be.” The silence lingered in the air for a few moments, before the large mare held out a leg. “Bailey Sweet, by the way.”
Shooting placed her hoof against Bailey’s, giving it a short shake. “Shooting Star. It’s all a bit of a perfect storm, isn’t it?”
“Blueberry Cream,” the engineer pony said, holding out her hoof for a shake too.
“Yeah. If Ah didn’t know better, Ah’d say it almost seems like this was… Ah dunno. Planned? What are the chances of all of this goin’ on at the same time?”
“What are you say -”
“Ah ain’t say nothin’, sugar,” Bailey said, chuckling with a deep, hearty laugh. “But, don’t hurt to think about, does it? It seems odd for all of these things to go wrong in exactly this order.” She took a deep breath in through her nose as she turned to look at the dead farm, the mounds of dirt sitting in tracts. The other two followed her gaze, the three turning back to each other with a somber look. “Just thinkin’ out loud. And Ah’m guessin’ that, given you’re wearin’ that armor and that gun, you ain’t investigatin’ the orchard for nothin’,” she said, with a nod to Shooting’s hip.
“I’d be lying if I said I was,” Shooting said, nodding. “I’m going to try and get in touch with the Overmare about all of this -- I think that’s the best course of action.”
Blueberry and Bailey nodded in agreement. “Ah think that’s best, sugar.”
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (
Shooting Star shot awake, hoof clutching her stomach and checking for the knife she was certain was lodged into her underside. A brief searched showed no metal sticking from her, but the pain remained; a sharp, agonizing point that spread out from within her, doubling her over in her bed.
A long hiss seeped out from between her fangs, sweat beading on the corners of her forehead as her wing shot out to slap against the light switch. Dim, low lights sparked, bathing Shooting Star in just enough light to see without stinging her eyes. As her stomach growled she let out a hearty moan, pain rippling through her stomach.
Hunger pangs. It wasn’t often that she’d felt them, but she could recognize it well enough. She didn’t eat the day before, or the day before that - work kept her busy enough and the stress of the Stable worried enough that she didn’t have the time. Still, these were strong and sudden. She was hungry, but this was a whole new level.
Exhausted, she still found herself crawling out from under her sheets, one wing clutched around her stomach and wrapping around to the other side. She ignored the armor and her gun, needing neither to make it to the galley and end the contractions in her stomach. “Holy shit,” she wheezed, gasping as she lifted the door out into the hallway.
Her legs moved faster than a trot, a few moments at best needed to take her into the galley and throw the door open, galloping inside and smacking face first into Bailey Sweet’s side. Against the much larger mare, Shooting’s momentum didn’t stand a chance and she realized she was across the floor, sprawled out on her side.
“Whoops,” Bailey said. “Didn’t see you there, sugar.” She hadn’t even moved when Shooting knocked into her, sturdy as a tree and unwavering in her stance.
Regaining her footing, Shooting pulled herself up to her hooves, eyes scanning the room now that her pupils had adjusted. The sheer volume of the room shook her. There were a lot of ponies here, considering the time; a quick glance at the clock at the top of the galley’s exit confirmed that it was right around way too early o’clock: 3:23 AM. Even still, the lack of sleep didn’t seem to prevent the entire wing of dormitories Shooting shared a room with from being here, almost everyone indulging in some form of sweet treat from the food dispensers. Another quick look told her she didn’t recognize anyone -- a few ponies here and there, but this was mostly the athletes and staff from the Equestrian Games that happened to be passing through.
Bailey, too, seemed to be at the forefront of this feasting. The mare had plates literally stacked along her back, several trays loaded down with all kinds of junk. Snack cakes, pie slices, cupcakes and muffins -- even a bowl of ice cream was perched across her hips, the mare taking slow, deliberate steps to the table. “C’mon, Shooting, everyone’s eatin’! Ah know you’re hungry.”
Shooting’s stomach rolled with hunger at the mention of how hungry she was, another stabbing pain through her middle telling her she needed to eat now. “Starving,” she said, voice a whisper. It was far too early to be social.
“Not quite sure what’s goin’ on,” Bailey said, bumping the side of her barrel against an open table. With a precise nudge, the trays of food she’d served herself slipped right off of her back and onto the surface, the large mare sitting herself down afterwards. “Whole wing started just wakin’ up, moanin’ ‘bout bein’ hungry -- self included. So, here we are.”
While Bailey spoke, Shooting realized that she was plucking food off of her tray. Without asking, one of those big slices of pie (blueberry, as it turns out) was in front of her and she started devouring it that same moment without even responding.
“Yeah, lot’s of ponies doin’ that,” Bailey said with a snicker at the lack of response. She, too, positioned a few plates right in front of herself and dug in, indiscriminately taking massive bites out of whatever was in front of her.
Gluttony washed over the galley like a wave in a flurry of hungry ponies. Even as ponies were shoveling the fattening foods in the dispensers down their throat, others were lining up for seconds or thirds, even this early -- it was a common sight, Shooting realized, to see distended bellies and ponies waddling up to the dispensers to get even more. Swollen with fullness, the mares and stallions her office shared space with were still very close to trampling each other to get more food. It wasn’t a serious stampede, but she could easily see the situation turning into a conflict if someone said the wrong thing or broke the wrong machine.
The third and fourth plate Shooting snuck away from Bailey’s tray were gone before she even realized she’d grabbed more of it. It was almost mechanical the amount of effort she was putting into thinking about consuming the food in front of her. The hunger pangs were gone, the painful reminder to eat having passed, but still there was a little nibble at the back of her head pressing her onward. A fifth plate - one containing several sugar-laden apple muffins - was Shooting’s next selection, sinking her fangs successively into the impromptu breakfast treats.
Bailey, on the other hand, was a wrecking ball of hunger. In the time Shooting had eaten several plates, the massive earth pony had bowled through several trays and was still going. She was putting her naturally larger size to good use, her capacity huge compared to most ponies. Even still, a good deal of it was settling into that stomach and a quick glance down told Shooting that she had to be getting full, Bailey’s muscled stomach growing round as they ate.
She, too, was feeling the effects, leaning one of her rear legs to the side as her stomach swelled, her flat middle gaining a little roundness as she stuffed muffins into her mouth. The hunger pangs had passed, but were rapidly being replaced by feelings of overfullness. “Mm, hold on,” Bailey said, biting down on the trays to stack them in a neat pile of dirty dishes before standing.
She waded through the crowd of ponies near the dispensers, ignoring the line as she nudged and bumped ponies out of her way. Given she towered over the crowd, nobody stepped forward to stop her even if several did give little snorts of annoyance at the bulky mare’s brutish behavior. Still, rearmed with several trays of additional food, Bailey made her way back to the table, knocking all of the second course off of her back and onto the surface between her and Shooting.
The two pounced on the additional food like they hadn’t already stuffed themselves minutes ago. “This is… actually really good,” Shooting said, regaining some of her talkative nature now that the pain in her gut wasn’t looming over her any longer. “Kind of wasn’t expecting it, but… ooh, are those cupcakes?” Without even waiting for a response, Shooting’s hoof latched onto the plate of what were sure enough cupcakes. Before it was pulled out of reach, Bailey’s mouth opened and chomped one whole as it moved, swallowing it down before letting her keep the rest.
“Yeah. This is somethin’...” Bailey said, eyes running across the room as she scarfed down another plate, this one of glazed, pre-packaged pies. Two bites and the sugary glaze, crust and lemon filling were all gone. “Odd that everyone’s gettin’ so -- mmph -- hungry so suddenly, ain’t it?”
“What are you implying?” Shooting asked. Her mind was only half there on the conversation, the rest of her attention on the cupcakes. Her pace was slowing. The poor mare felt like she was ready to pop, gray belly rolling forward from her barrel to the point she could feel it brush against her legs the slightest bit. “I’m… mmh, actually, I’m getting pretty… full.”
“Then quit eatin’,” Bailey said, a large apple fritter being stuffed into her mouth as she gorged herself further.
“I will. Just a few more,” Shooting said, mouth opening as she scarfed down another cupcake. “But… what are you getting at here, Bailey?”
“Let me ask you somethin’,” Bailey said, clearing off another plate. She paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath through her nose as she leaned back, a hoof reaching down to brush against her very swollen stomach. Even from where Shooting was sitting she could see how round she was -- poor mare looked like she was just about early on in a pregnancy. “Overmare ever get back to you?”
“No,” Shooting said. Finally, after another pair of cupcakes, she shoved the plate away and leaned her chest against the table, a long groan escaping her lips as she, too, pressed a hoof against her now firm, round stomach. A little echo of pain shot across her taut middle as her stomach cringed, trying to start digesting the massive meal. “Ow. No. She never answered any of my messages and it’s been three days.”
“Yeah,” Bailey said, “Ah didn’t think so.” She, too, reached her limit after plowing through another plate. Neither had even paid attention to what was on it, but it was food so it was demolished. Trace amounts of snack foods were still laid out around them, each one glancing down at them before turning back to each other. No way, no more. “Golly, Ah don’t think I’ve… erf… ever eaten so damn much in my life,” she said, both hooves resting on the swollen stomach that parted her back legs.
A loud gurgle rose from Shooting’s own middle as if responding to Bailey for her, the mare shaking her head. “Yeah… me neither. I’m going to look into it more. This is… strange.”
A cursory look around the room told her more than ever. All around the galley were ponies stuffed to their absolute limit, many of them athletes who had - up until now, anyway - been shocked and concerned about the number of calories they were consuming.
No more, apparently.
Each and every mare and stallion in the room was reduced to a waddle, stomachs bulging and swollen beneath them, each one either still taking small bites or letting out long groans of overfullness. Many, she noticed, had unzipped their jumpsuits to give their guts a little more space, tight from just how round they had grown. It was like a possession, a primal instinct, had hit every single person in their dorm.
A hefty burp rose up out of Shooting’s chest, catching her off guard and spilling out of her mouth before she clamped her hooves around it. “‘Scuse me.”
“No worries, girl. Now, Ah don’t know about you, but,” Bailey said, rising up to her hooves. Her stomach was truly impressive, from a weird standpoint, the mare’s size advantage applying to her stomach capacity, too. “Ah’m goin’ back to bed, first.”
“Yeah. I’m going to… sleep this off,” Shooting said, standing up with a careful wobble, keeping her hooves spread a tiny bit to keep her stomach from bouncing against her steady legs. “Then, we’re going to go knock on her door ourselves.”
) ( ) ( ) ( ) (