The Wizard and the Queen

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You find a worn book in the corner of the library. After trying, and failing, to retrieve the book that sparked your curiosity so, you grumble and call for the librarian’s aid. The old mare smiles and places the book on the table. Half the weight of the book must be the dust on the cover. The elderly unicorn swiftly pulls all the dust from the book with intense precision and drops it in a nearby trash can. Shortly after she leaves, having not spoken a word, a young, rather rotund filly stops by your table, pulling a wagon piled high with boxed cookies, donuts, and canned cappuccinos that probably contain more sugar than caffeine. Other than the cappuccinos, who would be worth their weight in gold for the energy needed for extended study alone, everything on the wagon is designed to be the sort of snack you can enjoy in a library without making much noise. They even boast, on printed labels, being “magically enchanted” to leave no mess on pony nor table.

 

“Excuse me miss,” the portly flightless Pegasus squeaks. “The filly scouts are running a fun, fun… fundraiser! For the library, to help old miss Scroll main-maint… fix the place up and hire some help!” You inquire if filly scouts usually work alone. It’s been some time since you were a filly, but you always worked in a group. “My friends are downstairs. I’m the only one that could make it up here. Look, they’re down there by that big unicorn in the sweater!” You look over the bannister, taking care not to touch it directly. As fat as this young Pegasus is, the earth pony looks twice as heavy, and the unicorn filly is even larger! Hmmph, what a surprise. They sold two entire wagons to Moondancer. Knowing her, she’d be finished with the whole thing by lunch time.

 

You return to your seat, taking care to balance yourself on the reinforced bench and not knock the table over. You sigh silently. For all the trash you talk about your self-proclaimed rival, Moondancer can at least get her own books. You’re an earth pony, no magic to help you there. Though you seem to forget it, you’re quite hefty yourself – both heavier and bigger than that studious mare downstairs, as your situation just now reminds you. A normal sized earth pony could have grabbed that book just fine, but a normal sized earth pony wouldn’t have her barrel and neck stick out so far as to get in the way. It isn’t your fault you were born with an unusually large appetite and a tendency to space out and forget yourself.

 

You drop a full bag of bits on the filly’s back and tell her to leave the wagon there. “That, is, AWESOME!” The filly bounces with energy and agility that you wouldn’t think possible for anypony these days, let alone a young Pegasus with that much extra weight on her frame. Blushing deep red after a round of shushes that seemed to come from every direction at once, she waddles up to you, uses the massive bulge of belly blubber that eclipses your thighs – which are already wider than the bench you’re seated on – and slips a small buzzer on the table. “We’ve got so much of this stuff,” she whispers, as if to signal she isn’t really supposed to solicit sales like this. “Just hit this buzzer when you get hungry and I’ll bring up another wagon. Or Two! I think I can even squeeze three wagons on the lift at the same time if you want!” Her fat little face shows a poorly hidden, devious smile. There isn’t a chance in Tartarus you aren’t going to take her up on that offer, not with a convenient way to order more. The only self-control you have is making food inconvenient to get to. Clearly, it’s not very effective.

 

You thank the filly and give her a kind headpat. Within seconds of her taking off to rejoin her friends, you have already unboxed three dozen donuts and a 12 pack of cappuccinos. Prying open the old book with one hoof while already moving not one, but three donuts to your mouth absent mindedly, you stop to think: There’s a lift in this library. Formerly for freight and books, now used for ponies since it’s not uncommon to be so large stairs become a burden anymore. You took that lift to get up here. Why did that Pegasus say her friends were too big to come upstairs? You ponder this for a while, neglecting the book you went through so much trouble to find. 30 years ago, when this filly would have been considered extremely obese rather than just noticeably above average, the situation would have been extremely suspicious, a sign of what back then would have been the subject of a relatively underground erotic story. Back then, most ponies were thin like the quiet old librarian, with a growing demographic that was moderately chubby, mostly among the upper classes. That’s what the books say at least. You weren’t even alive 30 years ago.

 

Your thoughts are interrupted as your left hoof touches the bottom of an empty box. Thinking on this tangent, you polished off three dozen donuts. You push the empty boxes aside and grab some more, piling as many on the table as you can. Your hoof and the visible portions of your neck and barrel show no signs of any food crumbs or powder, and a cursory lick of your cheeks and snoot show nothing but your normal, slightly sweaty fur. The labels didn’t lie; these were truly clean eating food. You wonder how viable it would be to get everything enchanted like this. It’s enough of a pain to try and bathe the sweat of your exertion each day, let alone washing up every time you eat. Of course, you can try that diet again instead of “ounceing” yourself closer to immobility, you think as you eat another three donuts at once. You shake your head, mentally noting to ask that filly when she comes around again. For now, you need to focus on this book.

 

The cover seems interesting enough. “How I Stopped the Changeling Invasion: A tale of bravery and cunning, by ----------------” The name of the author is too degraded to make out anything but a lowercase “i”. There is an illustration of the author beneath the title. Any color that was once there has faded or flaked away, but you can see the author was quite the large fellow. Some artistic liberties were clearly taken in depicting this fellow in a formal suit befitting an adventurer, when realistically he would have at best had frayed and damaged clothing that covered a fraction of himself.

 

The unicorn had a face so fat it resembled a slightly squashed sphere, with puffy cheeks and a prominent double chin that stuck out further the first all appearing as if it were a single entity. His neck looked thick as the trunk of a rather large tree. His barrel bulged out further forward than his entire face, leaving his far forehoof barely visible. His front foreleg only avoided being buried by surrounding fat with its own excessively rotund corpulence. Frankly, you think it’s also an artistic liberty to depict his hooves as being able to reach the ground. He’s a tall stallion, with some featureless, much thinner ponies surrounding him probably to give a sense of scale, but that hoof to shoulder height was easily dwarfed by not even the circumference, but the radius of his belly. It not only reached the ground and spread out to the sides, not unlike your own, it spread so far to the sides you could see it past his far forehoof. The near side of his belly reached the edge of the page. While his rear legs were largely covered up by that tremendous gut, his rear and thighs were certainly massive in their own rights. He looked like he would struggle to make the one-block trip from your home to the library at least as much as you do.

 

You rearrange the boxes on the table again, moving empties off and adding full boxes to the pile. You don’t even bother to count how much you mindlessly shoveled down while gawking at such a stunning figure. You sigh, again. Stunning figure? You’re sitting at an odd angle on a bench too small for your rear, your belly resting beneath the table and protruding so far as to reach the bench on the other side, all the while being squished by the side supports of the table. Yes, you suppose you’re more than far enough gone yourself to find this veritable blob on the cover attractive. Perhaps it’s because you found somepony bigger than yourself that at least appeared to do more with their life than just eating and flaunting their girth.

 

You open the book, finally ready to read this stallion’s tale. Curiously, each instance of his name appears completely illegible, as if his name were intentionally erased meticulously by somepony with a grudge, but the way the name was removed looked nothing more than normal degradation of the book over time. The date listed on the inside cover is a mere few years ago, but the book itself looks like it was left in a cave for centuries. You think to ask the librarian about that, but think better of it. The effort to go there and back a second time today is far too much, and she doesn’t talk anyway.

 

The tale begins: “-------------nd as fantastical as it may appear, I am the one who stopped the changeling invasion that would have destroyed Equestria as it is now. And with it, I stopped the final excuse those pesky traditionalists had for trying to return us to the old ways. Equestria was not a bad place back then, but how many of you would give up this comfortable life?” You think to yourself, there is no way that would happen. Neither for yourself, nor for anypony you know. Everypony has grown reliant on the abundance of food and standards being so relaxed that so long as you remain mobile, nopony has a second thought about you or anything you do.

 

“Personally, I’ve had some struggles with my weight, silly as it sounds. It so happens at the time I learned of the plans for invasion, I was in one of those struggles, and was quite thin by modern standards. Three hundred forty pounds was still heavy by old standards, but not very large. In a fit of mania, I took it upon myself to stock up on as many scrolls, weapons, and mana potions as I could carry, and set out on a quest to halt the impending invasion on my own. […] Along the way, I managed to recruit a party of heroes, each from rural communities that were still living the old way. It must have been quite a sight: a heavy, slightly deranged looking wizard in a cloak leading an archer, a knight, a cleric, and a berserker across all of Equestria, traveling far to the east of Griffinstone. […] Eventually, we reached the Changeling hive. This was no normal hive. Instead of being a cave system with a hive structure on the surface, this hive was built into the ruins of some lost civilization. Crumbling buildings with Changeling hives growing out of the holes, molded perfectly as if it were part of the original structure. There were even entire buildings made out of hive structure that looked exactly how the original building must have. It would be a remarkable form of beauty were it not a hive of creatures plotting the destruction of our nation. I must note, these are not the reformed self-sufficient changelings we see in Equestria. They are the original creatures of darkness.”

 

You pause to find yourself hitting the buzzer that filly scout left for you. You don’t know how many times you’ve hit it, but after a few seconds you realize the wagon is now full of empty boxes. The shaking in your forelegs you feel and the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead in this barely seventy degrees warm library tell you that you drank every one of the cappuccinos, too. Luckily, this library is open all hours of the day and has facilities on both floors, so the guaranteed lack of sleep for the next couple days won’t be too bad. Your probably warranted fear of your heart giving out if you tried to move much at all writes off the idea of going home anyway.

 

While the story has been interesting so far, three things bother you: The story sounds an awful lot like an old adventure story being retold for the modern era. The writing grates on your nerves at times with the author’s odd mannerisms, inconsistent levels of detail, and pacing. It feels like you’re shifting between a rushed, simplified detailing of events in between long blocks of text about things the author clearly cares more about. Finally, so much of the book is illegible. How badly was this book stored? It’s half a decade old!

The sound of the lift distracts you, and you carefully place a bookmark where you left off. The young Pegasus from before strolls up, panting from exertion having carted four wagons over. “I had a feeling you’d be asking for more. I… hope you didn’t want more cappuccinos.” You shake your head. You don’t even need to vocalize it. As little as your body needs more calories stuffed into it, it really doesn’t need any more caffeine pumping through your veins.

 

She pulls up a chair from nearby and sits next to you, trying to catch her breath. “Four carts… of donuts and… cookies… huff… I won’t…” You tell her to just sit and breathe for a bit. She’s looking a bit rounder in the midsection. You point it out, with your voice shaking. Nervously, you explain you drank about forty cans of cappuccino, and she just wonders why you’re so concerned about a shaky voice. “Soooo, my friends and I might have been snacking on a liiiiiittle bit of the mer… merch… stuff we’re selling. Between you and the other nerd we’ve made more than double our goal already, so… W-we’re getting more stuff later, so don’t be afraid to call me up for more if-when that belly wants more. I don’t know about my friends, but I’ll be able to bring that up.” You sigh once more, knowing she’s right. You hand her a bigger pouch of bits for the four carts, which she rests on her belly. You turn to prep a few boxes on the table, and notice she’s still sitting there. She caught her breath enough to talk, so what gives? “Oh, I’m still resting. Pulling that many wagons is hard work, you know!”

Perhaps out of questionably sourced hunger, perhaps out of a desire to dilute the overdose of caffeine in your body by any means necessary, you tear through the entirety of the first wagon’s donuts and cookies, pushing the empty boxes off the other side into the small hill of trash that’s forming past your belly. You feel sated, which makes you feel somewhat embarrassed. By all rights, even being able to eat two dozen dozens of cookies and just as many boxes of cookies should be an unusual feat, and you should be feeling painfully full. Instead, you feel like you’ve eaten a light meal. It astounds you just how much of a glutton you really are, now that you’ve paid attention to it. It’s not the first time you’ve come to the revelation, but you always forget it. The little Pegasus hops out of her chair, smiling that wide, devious little smile she had earlier, accentuated by her fat cheeks . “You, are, AMAZING! I’ll keep a ton of wagons ready for your next order. I’m all rested up now, bye!” She takes off as quickly as a three hundred pound Pegasus filly can, which is faster than you’d think. You return to the book, eager to continue the adventure.

 

“It didn’t take long for us to be discovered. The bugs had scouts everywhere. Adept as we were, a war of attrition would have been our loss. We fought where we could and ran toward the castle. Queen------ was there, waiting for us. Our hopes for a surprise attack were turned against us.” There it is again. Sure, there are many sections of the book that are illegible, entire pages even, it was like names were specifically targeted on pages that were otherwise fully intact and legible. Something suspicious had occurred here. “Our minds had been made up to retreat from the area and regroup. Most of us were wounded, and our cleric’s healing spells could hardly keep up in the midst of battle. On the escape, I trailed behind. Choosing to buy some time, I charged a destruction spell and spun around, spraining a foreleg in the process. I vaguely remember one of the others calling out for me. Shortly afterward, I discharged the spell in the direction of the Changeling army. It was more powerful than I expected. A beam wide as half the city shot as far as the eye could see. There was nothing but a long, deep trench left. I know not the fate of my companions, as I have not so much as heard of them since that time, but I hope they made it out safely. “

“After the spell ended, I felt emaciated, like I had been locked in a dungeon for a month with naught but drips of water to subsist on. I collapsed, unable to stand any longer. My vision blurred, and I felt the cold hooves of death embracing me. I had put so much into that spell, even the remainder of my mana potions could not have saved me. The Changeling Queen and what remained of her army appeared before me, apparently having escaped my wrath. I recall little of what she had said. I believe she said something like ‘Should I let you wither away, or should I crush every part of your body until you beg me for death? No, I have far more pressing plans for you.’”

 

“My next memory is waking up in some sort of prison cell, half hive half ruin. My foreleg had been mended, but my hooves were shackled to the floor with chains. There was something covering most of my face, and any attempt at casting even a simple candlelight spell sent a spike of pain directly into my brain as if the horn were torn off and hammered back in place backwards. I felt a belt was placed around my stomach inside of my robe, and this revelation terrified me more than anything else. I could feel the belt touching a rib. I had never been so thin as to have a rib protruding like this. Was this the cost of overusing one’s mana? Did I tap into my own life source with that spell?”

 

“The queen graced me with her presence shortly after the horror dulled. I found myself hardly able to walk around, more due to weakness than to the chains and shackles. ‘Pony magic is quite fascinating, is it not?’ She chuckled, commanding a wall opposite the prison bars to open. I was imprisoned right next to the queen’s new throne room! ‘My subjects have found some truly astounding artifacts deep under these ruins. You should feel lucky. Most prisoners simply have the love drained out of them and are simply discarded. Some, we inject with a venom that turns them into one of us. A drone under my command, naturally. You? Were it possible for a pitiful creature like a pony to gain the respect of a superior species, you would have earned it.’ She points to what’s left of her hive, a few dozen worker drones and a smaller number of soldiers. ‘This hive shall return to its former glory, and you, pony, are going to help. These artifacts, you see, will make you my servant. You’ve been injected with enough venom to keep you alive up until now, and you will hear my commands and obey, but you do not deserve to be one of us. Instead, you will be a food source. Our stores were vaporized. With these artifacts and my venom, you will be kept alive no matter how much love we drain from you, and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.’ She begins laughing maniacally. The look on her face, it haunts me to this day. A single pony, reducing her empire to less than fifty Changelings and three buildings, nearly at the cost of his own life? It dawned on me I had driven her completely insane! Despite my weakened state, she grabbed my head and started smashing hers into it repeatedly, laughing the entire time.”

 

“My vision blurred, blood dripping down my face. After what felt like an eternity, a drone tried to stop her and was promptly thrown into the throne headfirst, killing him immediately. I couldn’t get a good look from where I stood, but I believe his neck had been broken and his skull had caved in. The queen looked back at me, that haunting face staring into my very soul. There were open wounds on her forehead emitting a steady flow of green blood. I could see a significant amount of my own blood all over her face, even on one of the spikes on her horn. She held a mirror to my face, as sunken and skeletal as it currently was, still smiling that damnable smile. A raspy cackle emitted from her throat like a quiet guttural roar. There were significant lacerations on my forehead, and among the river of blood pouring out there was quite a lot of changeling blood mixed in. The queen threw the mirror at the dead drone. If he wasn’t already dead, the shards of reflective class penetrating his body would have killed him, certainly. She just kept staring at me with that horrible face, cackling for what felt like years. It began echoing in my head as if it were coming from inside my mind. Whatever force was holding me standing finally gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.”

 

“I awoke some time later, already standing on my hooves. That queen, she was still there, wearing the same face, still cackling. I overheard some drone mention it had been days. I had no way of validating that time. Once my vision focused and my eyes found themselves locked with the queen’s unwillingly, she instantly snapped to a blank expression. Before my mind could register the change, she had sliced a blade across one of my eyes. Finding myself unable to move, scream, or even react to it, all I could was suffer in silence. I was petrified. Still stonefaced, she pulled the destroyed eyeball out of my head and replaced it with an eye a clearly terrified drone handed to her. It was likely one from that drone she killed some time earlier. To my shock, it was a perfect fit, and I could even see out of it. Her face changed again. In less than the time it takes to blink, her entire expression changed. It was like for her, she hadn’t even noticed however much time had passed between when I had first awoken in this cell and now. She resumed the conversation she was having before she had started laughing as if there were no interruptions. She raised an eyebrow, or what part of a changeling’s natural form counts as one, momentarily, seemingly confused at all the dried blood and wounds my face was covered with, and the very fresh eye replacement surgery she performed.”

 

“It took all I could muster to comprehend a word she was saying. While my entire body was like stone, immobilized against my will, my mind was endless screaming. Not all of the screaming was my own. ‘This artifact neutralizes your magic. This artifact will provide you nourishment, more than you could ever want. This artifact pressing into your ribs? Let’s just say it lets the artifact on your mouth run continuously. Sadly, you vaporized the drone who tested each of these things, otherwise I’d show you what they do, but let’s just say you won’t need those chains for long. I won’t even need to control your movements. You won’t be able to get away.’ She turns toward her throne, stops, then turns back. ‘Look at the despair you’ve caused my hive. That drone was my personal assistant, and you drove him to suicide. I’ll just have to activate these two artifacts right now. You have a lot to atone for.’ Her voice almost sounded mournful. ‘I hope you like cake.’ I certainly do like cake, but I had no clue what she had planned until the artifact activated.”

 

“Imagine a cake, just your average cake meant for a family to share over the course of a week on special occasions at one time, now more of a snack a pony eats in an afternoon. The artifact covering my face produced one of those in my mouth, compacted into a small size. It grew in size quickly to a normal cake’s size, causing my sunken cheeks to swell out significantly. I then was forced to swallow it whole, through some divine magic it proceeded to pass through my esophagus into my stomach without any issue. The artifact then generated another cake mere seconds after the last, and the process repeated. As you can imagine at such a thin size, my stomach filled up pretty quickly. However, it stayed that that state of feeling ready to pop, never progressing further. Despite that feeling, every third cake I felt my stomach, and belly along with it, expand just a little bit further. The artifact around my torso vibrated ever so slightly, and provided a subtle, warm feeling. I lost count after twelve cakes, opting to focus my mind on quieting the screams that were still in my head, and trying to figure out what exactly was going on.”

 

Your consciousness pulls out of the book once again, having felt that feeling of your left forehoof hitting an empty table. At some point, each of the wagons were pulled away, but the pile of empty boxes on the other side of the table was proof enough you had eaten every bit of food that was on them. That, and your pink belly fur starting to be visible past the table’s edge from where you sat. You instinctively hit the buzzer a few times again, blushing as you realize you really should have taken this as a sign to stop eating. The adventure story had turned quite disturbing, but perhaps reading about some artifact that fed the wearer endless cakes got you thinking of food again.

 

Unable to return to the book until more food arrives, you place your bookmark and set it down, listening to the subtle gurgling of your belly. After a few minutes, that Pegasus returned, looking even more exhausted and rotund than before. Behind her were a dozen wagons piled higher than before. She struggled her way into the chair she had sat on before, her belly so engorged it protruded further than her legs could reach. “This is the last run for today,” she finally uttered after minutes of panting. She looked over the bannister, carefully, at the floor below. Her earth pony friend looked twice as big as before, and was fast asleep. Her unicorn friend was pulling food from three wagons at once and stuffing it down like she intended to need one of those wagons to ever move again. Her belly was so distended her rear legs weren’t even visible from this angle. “Yeah, no more. There are only two wagons left, and if I go down there again I might be tem… teeeem…. Tempted to eat them myself.” You ask how she won’t eat any of the food she brought up for you. “I know better than to eat my sales.” You shrug and return to the book. By now you don’t even care if she’s watching you stuff your face, you have more pressing matters to attend to.

 

“Some time had passed. I don’t know how long. Sometimes the flow would stop and the queen would come over to drain me. Other times, the drones or soldiers would get their ration of love. Sometimes, the queen would just stand there and stare, as if she’s imagining impaling my head on a spike. Sometimes, she gets that horrible face and that terrifying cackle again. Those times, I end up with more cuts and bruises. Sometimes she just talks to me like I’m one of her drones, then responds as if I were holding a conversation with her. To say my own sanity was slipping would be an understatement. I couldn’t even tell if the pain from each new wound was real or imagined. I don’t know if I’ve truly recovered to this day. Given other ponies see the scars and the eye as well, I can only assume those are real and have happened. Perhaps I’m hallucinating their responses as well.”

 

“One thing I could tell for sure, I was getting fat. Very fat. I cannot tell how fast it happened, how much time passed, even how quickly I was being fed cakes. Time lacked any meaning. I forgot what time was. I had grown heavy enough that my wizard robes, tattered and bloodstained as they had become, grew tight as they were when I started my journey. Shortly thereafter, they began developing tears, and the belt I had fastened around the robe began to break. I can only estimate, but I believe I had grown to over four hundred pounds. At the queen’s command, a drone had opened the cell door and removed the shackles. The queen stared at me, confused, then seemingly came to a realization. She shot a bolt of magic at me, right into where she had previously broken skin on my forehead, and I felt the ability to move again. I took an attack stance, seeing an opportunity, but casting magic failed to do anything but make my head hurt. Physical attacks it was, then. Or so I thought: I managed to take two steps at a pace where, had I been able to keep it up, I could have tackled the queen into the back wall hard enough to at least harm her, if not do any lasting damage that couldn’t have been healed. After those two paces, I slowed down to a lethargic waddle. The guards who had swarmed me let down their guard, and the queen let out her laugh. She uttered a single word: ‘Domesticated.’”

 

“I was taken to another room. My robes were discarded, and I was cleaned up. It was a wonder none of those wounds had gotten infected. Or perhaps they did, and they just healed somehow. I looked almost presentable, if not scarred and quite rotund. I was then herded into another room. There, I was forced to fornicate with the queen. Even reformed Changelings refuse to elaborate on how Changeling mating processes occur, and I don’t believe they use fornication the same way we do. As if to mock me, she shifted into a thinner, female version of myself, complete with scars, before using her control powers on me to make me do the deed, as it were. It was pleasurable, at least in the sense that I had not had a chance to do so in what felt like centuries, and pleasure was something that had become rather scarce. As I finished, she made me do it again, and again, and again. It only stopped when the cake spawning artifact had grown me enough to make her uncomfortable. She had me hold in place, forelegs on the bed, rear legs on the floor, and she slipped out and around in front of me. She stood up on the bed the same way I was, then she shifted her form to look exactly like me, but as a female. Unable to see a true picture of myself, I could only extrapolate from this mockery of a female form. She began to laugh maniacally once again, causing me to wince. Luckily, this time, she didn’t get violent. Instead, she berated me for having fornicated with myself for, I don’t know. She said an exact measurement of time, but I can’t for the life of me recall even hearing words. She then escorted me back to the room I was cleaned up in. It had a bed and what I thought was a window to the outside, but the view and light never changed.”

 

“Things happened much the same as they had before, back in that cell. I would get occasional visits from a drone or soldier to harvest some love. I would get visits from the queen to harvest love, stare at me, pine over me like we were lovers, or repeat her mocking thanks for contributing to the lifeblood of her hive. At least, I think she repeated that. I am not certain. She may have done it once, and the scenario simply repeated itself in my head. Even laying in the bed, which was not comfortable but at least gave my hooves a reprieve from my increasing mass, I could not sleep. I don’t know if I’ve ever slept since I was captured. Dreams and visions came to me while I was awake, or believe I was awake. It could be that I, the pony, slept, while I, the changeling, was awake. When I, the changeling, slept, I, the pony awakened. I can’t change forms or anything like that, but I find myself awake and cognizant each ---- of the ----” Unlike the other illegible text, the units of time in this sentence appear to have been typed over numerous times with countless, indecipherable words by the author himself. You’re puzzled, but stop only long enough to notice you’ve been dumping a full box of cookies into your mouth.

 

“I may sound like a madman, but what I speaksay in this book is truth. My recollections prior to imprisonmentcapturetorture are entirely comprehensible. Normal. I am not mad by choice. I am not mad by illness or genetic predispositiondisorder. This is what harm has been done to me. I speak truth. In the endless wake of my new quarters, my mind is not clouded, but distant. In that distance, I am thinking, formulating, understanding. The artifact on the mouth, a feed bag of sorts, of course generates a cake at a rate of one per ------. It generates it very small, and then grows it to full size, so as to not risk damaging the wearer. Some enchantment allows the food to be swallowed with no risk of suffocation. The wearer is able to breathe while doing so. The cake is then deposited into the stomach, for digestion. The belt artifact, which seems to grow as the wearer does, stimulates digestion, modifying it as long as the belt is worn. The stomach will fill until it is so full it would otherwise burst open, and will be held at that state. The belt artifact will not allow it to burst, and will continuously heal any and all tissue involved. This healing has a side effect: It will cause all affected tissue to expand. The stomach’s capacity grows, and so does the skin of the wearer, preventing damage or complications from the expected effects of being forcibly fed a diet of cakes. While it keeps the slowly expanding stomach at maximum capacity, it simultaneously speeds up digesting while activating what can best be described as either an extreme survival tool, or dreamed up by one so deranged as to desire endlessly eating no matter how rotund he grew. The body produces no waste. Instead, the belt artifact forced the body to use every part of the ingested food as if it were nutrients and calories. In effect: instead of generating waste, you are storing even more calories as body fat.”

 

“Furthermore, as I grew in excess of six hundred pounds, with my belly hanging past my knees, I began to formulate a plan of escapevictory. At the very least, it would prevent the Changelings from reforming an army and being able to invadeconquercontrol my homelandinvasiontarget. I must thank the queen for her kindness. Kindness? Confound it, there is no kindness to be found in that foulgreat wenchlover! Whoever wrote that, I will smite you against the throne!” The compounded words, they only make sense to you when you think of them as two different entities trying to write a word at once from their perspectives. Did the author go insane while writing the book? Even if it were a work of fiction, he either lost his mind, or is very skilled at playing the part. You almost lose concentration when hearing a groaning sound, but force yourself to return to the book. This would be a bad part to lose your spot in.

 

“Her plan was to not only keep me alive, contrary to her numerous assaults on my fleshvessel, but make me incapable of fighting back should I find a way to escape my confines. It occurred to me to do the same to her. My thoughts came to fruition on her next visit. When she came to drain love, I tried quietly channeling a higher volume of love than normal to her. It didn’t seem to have much effect, but at least she didn’t notice. I tried it again each time a drone or soldier came in, and each time the queen returned. I learned quickly not to do it to the queen unless she came in for a feeding. In her other states, she got violent again. The belt artifact’s healing properties, once activated for a long enough ---- as it was, applied to wounds as well as its usual uses. I grew to detest this, as it emboldened the queen in her violent states to harm me further. The wounds healed, but I still felt the pain. I have felt more pain than any of you will ever experience. Not even ---------------------- felt this much pain after banishing her sister for a -----------------. She may dispute this in person if desired. I have died a thousand deaths.”

 

“Over time, my efforts had taken effect: the drones and soldiers were growing quite soft and pudgy. The queen, who had always been greedier with her love feeding, was growing quite fat. ‘Perhaps we won’t need to invade your homeland after all, ---------------.’ She had certainly taken notice of the fact I wasn’t the only one gaining weight against histheir willwills. ‘Once the next batch of eggs – thank you for the contribution ------------------, hehehe – hatches, you’ll have a lot more of my subjects to feed. You’re such a good source of love, my hive will be the most prosperous one in all of history!’ Her demeanor and personality shifted, ever so briefly, to that of a kindly shopkeeper’s daughter who just made a sale as she was thanking me. I had made up my mindminds. I couldn’t die, neither from wounds nor draining of love. I had to increase my efforts. My only hope of escape was to overgrow this hive before I grew too large to leave it.”

 

“This was easier said than done. The whole hive was growing heftier at a decent pace, but I was still growing faster. My belly had started touching the ground, and on the rare occasion I was allowed to leave my room, it was becoming difficult to fit through the door. The queen, I had been fattening up quite nicely. It painsendears me to admit it, but I think something started growing between us besides our bodies. It was revealed to me that the queen had personally picked out the artifacts for me, and had chosen to spare my life when she saw the raw magical power I had. When I mentioned my struggles with weight earlier in this book, what I meant was I struggled with conflicting ideologies: being an insatiable glutton much like yourself, and the other wanting to be a traveling adventurer, adventuring with a party like I had before I was captured. What was currently winning out was the insatiable glutton half, much like yourself.” It keeps repeating in your mind. “Much like yourself.” It is as if the word “yourself” is bolded and glows brighter every time you see it. You shake your head and reach for another trio of donuts. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Pegasus filly dozed off in a slumber. You wonder how long you’ve been reading this book.

 

“Had I not destroyed nearly all of her hive and slaughtered nearly all of her children with it, she may not have gone insane as she did. Who knows what would have come of that? The mutual growth situation begat a long chain reaction of events. Because the queen gave me this endless source of food, I became fond of her for feeding me. In turn, I gave her more and more love at each of her feedings. She became aware of this eventually, the wenchloveofmylife, but did not retaliate as she wrongfullyrightfully perceived it as being genuine love. Her lack of retaliation and her weight gain gave me progressively more positive thoughts and feelings. The fatter she grew, the more physically attractive she appeared. It took her some time to embrace it, but I think her receiving so much maliciousgenerous fakereal love from a stallion she had personally fed from a skeleton into an elephant caused her to become accepting of her growing curves and rounder form. The abuse had long since shifted from physical to verbal. By the time she had grown fatter than I was at the start of this experiment, with two wondrously bulbous thighs and a belly that reached a third of the way between her knees and hooves, her personality shifts had decreased to two forms: Lovey-dovey, and one full of abuse, insults, and anger, but of a harmless, loving manner. To the surprise of all the hive, one ----- she removed the artifact from my horn. I felt my ability to cast magic return to me. However, I did not cast any spells. I smiled, she smiled back. What was supposed to be a plan to trick the queen had led to my losing the desire to cause her harm.”

 

“Soon, I was moved to her bedroom chamber, only in part because I could no longer fit through the doorway in my own room. She controlled my movements and had me lay on the bed on my back, a rare case of her using that control ability these -----. With some struggle, she managed to fly up and lay on my monstrously large belly. Her own weight was enough to squish it down noticeably, and her pudgy face rested next to mine. I could see my face in the reflection of her eyes, as she could in mine. One pony eye with a green iris, one changeling eye that was green all around. The scars on my forehead and right eye were not healed by the artifacts, but were less obvious with how much fat surrounded them anymore. She embraced me, like a smitten lover. ‘I should have done this ------s ago. This might be our last chance. I wish to fornicate again. No tricks, this time. Just me, as I am. You, as you are. All ----- of us. It is only a shame you will not be able to see me past your wonderful belly. Perhaps I can show you what I see.’ All of us. I think back to that statement. The way she said it, it was just those three words. I’ve even asked ------ and that is all she said. Every time, I hear two different numbers spoken at the same time between the three words. I don’t know what message she was trying to give meus.”

 

“It was blurry, but in my right eye I could see what she saw. Uninterested in just seeing her look forward – with her belly, she could not make it work facing the other direction, she looked back toward me. I got a good view of her simply divine behind as it bounced up and down, jiggling endlessly. I also got a very good look at a wall of ------ fur that wobbled and jiggled just as much. It lasted some amount of time, not nearly enough. I was exhausted, despite having done nothing, and she was drained of energy herself. It was love. I cannot describe it any other way.”

 

“After some time, my plan was complete. The queen, and her small, but growing hive, were much too fat to launch an offensive on any society. Each drone and soldier were lethargic, sporting bellies that nearly reached their hooves. The queen’s belly had not only reached the floor, but spread so far out from there each of her legs had to be spread out. Her rear, thankfully, had maintained its prior shape, just bigger. Interestingly, her neck had grown so fat it protruded a foot further than her face did. She easily weighed well over a thousand pounds, and moving around was a struggle. Unfortunately for my plans, I had not only fallen for the queen who just ----- -------s ago nearly killed me and herself in a fit of psychosis, but I had grown too large to escape. While my proportions were a bit lesser in the rear, more in the belly, I had grown so fat I looked just like the queen, but taller and heavier. Had I started earlier, perhaps….”

 

“One day, some concepts and frivolities returned to my illustrious mental space, though some still declare me mad. I became understanding of time again. There is no measure of how long I was in that hive, but on some day of some year, I acquired an unprecedented boon: My freedom. I took my seat in my throne next to my queen, a pair of lovers so large you’d only be more surprised at their still present mobility. There was a series of loud cracks, followed by my plummeting a couple inches to the floor. While we look rather similar, just at different scales, our differences in weight were severe. My queen weighed north of a thousand pounds, I weighed north of two thousand pounds. It was just too much for the throne to bear. There wasn’t even time to laugh before two more pops happened. First, the belt artifact I had worn for so long burst open. Second, the feedbag artifact snapped off my face, and found itself embedded on the ceiling. Drones scrambled to do something about it, but nothing but magic would be able to reach the feedbag artifact. The pieces of the belt could all be found, except the gem in its center. I believe it has embedded itself in me, as I still enjoy the belt’s effects.”

 

“As if that weren’t enough excitement, the new hive, well-populated and well-fed as it was, was enveloped in a bright light, and we all found ourselves in an area that was new, but familiar. There was a new island in the sea, not far from the eastern coast of Equestria, somewhere between Fillydelphia and Griffinstone. On it, sat the kingdom that once existed where the hive was built. Not just the castle, but every building, shop, farm, and resource that would have been there. The drones and soldiers - as ineffective at soldiering as they were - all rushed out as fast as their bodies allowed them to. Fast as this all happened, I almost missed the fact that they all seemed … changed. They looked like the reformed Changelings you allow in Equestria. I looked over to my queen, and didn’t notice anything right away. We both stood up and looked around, and it was only then that I could see: The characteristic holes in her legs, wings, horn, and mane had all sealed up, become solid. She had become a reformed Changeling too, but a rare case that kept her original colors. I had certainly grown to like those colors over the ---------s. She finally noticed the change herself. ‘I guess we don’t need you for love anymore, -------------. You’re free to-’ ‘Rule this new kingdom with my queen, of course.’ My response sounded perhaps a bit awkward, having not spoken in ---- --------. She was taken aback, but returned with a sweet smile. ‘That would be wonderful, my king.’”

“As for our lives, Blackmore has become a thriving island nation, both self-sufficient and open to tourism. As you’ve seen on the cover, I’ve remained quite hearty even without a constant feed of cakes, and I can tell you for certain, my queen has gained almost as much weight as me. Assuming you haven’t stuffed that wonderful pink belly of yours too much to move while reading this, we’d love to see you visit. We haven’t much room for migrants, but visitors are quite welcome.”

 

The final paragraph is signed with the current year. It takes a moment to hit you. The “You”s are glowing again. “Wonderful pink belly of yours” is glowing. The year is glowing. What is with this book? You go to place it on the table, only to find it resting on your belly instead. You look up, and the table has fallen over to the side, while a pile of empty food boxes taller than your head looms in front of you. More than that, you slowly notice you’re sitting on the floor. The bench broke into pieces beneath you, and it’s a relief that it wasn’t made of wood or else those splinters would be seriously dangerous! A janitor looks at you disapprovingly and shakes his head, starting to stuff your garbage into a comically large bag.

You look over toward the bannister and see the Pegasus filly from before, with her two friends. The Pegasus’s belly isn’t as distended as it was before, but it looks like she’s clearly put on quite a bit of weight. She looks at you excitedly and giggles to her friends. “I told you this would be worth watching!” The filly scouts vest that clearly doesn’t fit anymore has a new, shiny gold badge on it, denoting exceptionally good sales. She’s clearly earned a lot of money on commissions, mostly from you. The earth pony next to her is busy worrying about herself. “My sister’s gonna kill me…” Her belly is touching the floor, despite the audible hunger growls emanating from it. The unicorn friend, who is starting to resemble the description the book gave of the queen at the end – at least in size, proportionately – pauses stuffing her face with what has to be the last wagon of the sale. “You, are an inspiration to us all,” she says in a manner that sounds mocking yet sincere.

 

A kind passerby helps you to your hooves, blushing a little as he perhaps grabs a bit more of your blubber than was necessary. If the unicorn filly scout resembled the changeling queen’s heft, you resemble the unicorn king’s now. He says something, and you instinctively say yes, that would be great. Somehow, only after the exchange is done and you find yourself precariously riding the lift down with this portly fellow, himself fat enough that you two riding together involves your bellies pressing against each other’s and the opposite wall, do you recognize what he had asked of you. “I hear there’s this mysterious kingdom to the east named Blackmore. I’m planning to visit it. Would you like to come with me?