E-422-G

>You’d always enjoyed Sugar Cube Corner.
>It had a cheerful air about it that permeated every single inch of the place and made you feel good about coming inside.
>This evening was a little different.
>Pinkie had come over to your place to ask for emergency-immediate-super-duper-panicky-right-now help.
>She said she’d wanted an outsider’s point of view on some snacks Mrs. Cake had taught her to make and she was trying to create unsupervised.
>She said she trusted you to be properly blunt like always.
>So here you were, in the shop, late at night, leaning up against the counter while Pinkie was making the icing.
>She said it had to be the freshest of the fresh when you tasted it, so she’d come get you before even beginning to make it.
>She hadn’t mentioned that bit.
>You look around the shop while you waited.
>You never usually got to look around back here, and it was pretty cool.
>Standing up, you stuff your hands in your pockets and casually walk further into the back.
>Pinkie doesn’t try to stop you. She’s far too intent on her mixing bowl.
>You slip around the corner into the kitchen with a final glance at Pinkie, and then grin wickedly to yourself.
>What kind of goodies did they have back here?
>I mean sure, they sold a lot of stuff, but they had to have something for special occasions, right?
>Something they never brought out unless it was for high-cost projects.
>You quickly glance about at all the different items on counters, shelves, and you carefully peek into some of the cupboards for something that looked expensive.
>Nothing really grabbed your eye.
“Come on… you gotta have something you sugar junkies. Special fondant, sprinkles, jelly or something!”
>You hit the pantry and look over your shoulder at the kitchen door.
>Pinkie wasn’t watching you, but you could see her top half.
>Looked like she was icing all the treats, so you only had a little more time.

>You crack open the pantry door and slip inside, whipping your eyes around to look for anything cool.
>Oho! There we go!
>Something in a clear glass jar labeled with tape and red ink: E422-G.
>Just big enough to fit in your coat pocket.
>Probably sweet as all get-out.
>Just what you were looking for.
>You grab it, stuff it in your coat, and close the door just in time to hear Pinkie yell:
>”Nonny! My sweety-shakes sugar surprise is done! Come try some!”
>As nonchalantly as you can, you place your hands back in your pockets and sidle out of the kitchen.
“Well it’s about time, Pinkie! I’ve been smelling it for so long, it’s high time I got to taste it!”
>She giggles happily.
>”Well here it is, Nonny, the Sweety-Shakes Sugar Surprise! It’s a Mrs. Cake special!”
>She hands you a plate with a mound of cake, icing, jam, and assorted fruit slices.
>It looks delicious, and smells the same.
>You take a bite.
>Oh heavens, it tastes even better than both!
“Pinkie this is amazing!”
>You tuck into the treat with gusto, and when you’re done the first plate, Pinkie hands you a second.
>She’s trying to kill you isn’t she?
>You can think of worse ways to die.
>You devour the second helping and then sit back, letting your arms fall to your sides with a happy grin on your face.
>”Didja like it? Didja didja didja?”
>You slowly raise your head and look down at the pink pile of happiness.
“Pinkie, it was amazing, and though I may die, please bury me with the leftovers.”
>She laughs happily and claps her hooves.
>”Thanks Nonny. I’ll get you a bag to carry some home for later!”
>You groan incoherently.

>Later you finally arrive home once the sugar coma wore off, and you unlock your door.
>Once inside you carefully store the extra Sweety-Shakes Sugar Surprise in the fridge and remove your shoes, flopping down on the couch.
>Something bumps against your side and you’re reminded you stole a jar of something from the Cakes.
>And then Pinkie gave you that lovely dessert.
>You felt kind of like a heel.
>But come on, you can just try it on a few things, give it a taste test, then return it.
>It was dusty when you found it, so they must not use it that often.
>Probably won’t even notice it’s gone.
>You pull the jar out of your coat and look at the contents.
>The label was just that piece of paper taped to it with E422-G written on it.
>Didn’t look like Pinkie’s writing so it was either Mr. or Mrs. Cake.
>Unless they’d gotten it from somepony else who sold it to them with that label.
>No way of knowing unless you asked.
>’Hey, I stole this jar from you, what’s up with it, huh?’
>That’d go over real well.
>The content of the jar was rather viscous, filling about half the jar, and slowly oozing about as you tilted it to and fro.
>It didn’t seem to stick to the glass, either, so that was pretty neat.
>It was completely clear, too. Maybe slightly blue, but that could be because of the glass.
>You grip the lid and try to open it, but it resists, seeming to be stuck fast.
>Sticking it in your elbow, you grab and twist with all your might, until you are rewarded with a slow turn.
>Unfortunately it was one of those old jars, and the induction cap remained stuck fast.
>That meant this thing hadn’t ever been opened since the day it was sealed.
>How old was this stuff?
>Oh dear, was it even good anymore?

>You head to the kitchen and grab a knife.
>Cramming the end under the edge of the induction cap you lever downward until, with a satisfying pop, it flies off to clatter on the kitchen floor.
>A thick saccharine scent wafts out and strikes your nostrils.
>Hoo boy that smelled sweet!
>The contents jiggle as you bring the jar closer to your nose.
>Woo! Too much! Way too sweet!
>Didn’t smell bad, though.
>It was probably preserved like honey if it was that sweet, depending on what it was made of.
>You reach in with a finger and touch the surface of the jelly-like substance.
>Unlike the glass, the stuff stuck to you finger as you pulled it back out, a long, clear string connecting your finger to the mass back in the jar.
>You pull your finger up to your mouth, but the stuff drops off your fingertip and falls back into the jar, the string never breaking.
>Huh. Weird.
>You try again, the same long string connecting your finger to the main mass in the jar.
>Once it reached a certain distance, it all fell back to join the rest.
>Neat.
>It didn’t even leave a residue on your fingertip.
>You licked your finger to check and you didn’t taste anything sweet at all.
>That’s weird.
>You reach in with your hand and scoop up a larger glob of it, bring it up out of the jar, and sure enough, a thick string of jelly connected the two masses.
>Keeping your hand hovering just outside the mouth of the jar, you bring your face closer and tentatively lick the mass.
>Oh my…
>It smelled a little too sweet, but on your tongue it tasted amazing!
>The weird thing was that you didn’t seem to actually pull anything off it.
>The taste didn’t stay when you pulled away.
>You press your tongue against it and enjoy the flavor for a moment, the mass seeming to jiggle happily in your hand, then you pull away, leaving the taste behind.

>You smack your lips in thought and drop the jelly back in the jar.
>Tastes good, but the fact that it doesn’t seem to separate probably explains why they couldn’t use it to cook anything.
>How far does it stretch?
>You reach in the jar and grab a handful again.
>A big handful.
>You pull out about a quarter of the stuff that was in there, and you grip it as tightly as you can.
>One long string of the substance connects it back to the stuff in the jar, and you pull.
>The string seems to pull from the mass in your hand to lengthen itself, as you feel the size shrinking the further away you get until finally there’s nothing but a small ball in your hand.
>Strangely, you think you feel a slight tugging on your hand from the tendril itself.
>Hmmm.
>You clean off some of the counter and carefully lay the string out and watch.
>Yeah! Slowly but surely it was being pulled back into the jar!
>This was interesting stuff!
>Could it be cut?
>You grab a knife and hold onto the bulbous end of the string you’d laid out, then carefully bring the knife down on the tendril.
>It resists at first, by spreading out and making it so you never actually cut the whole thing, but eventually the knife gets all of it, and with a satisfying clunk, severs the tiny bulb from the rest.
>The rest of the string snaps back into the jar, and you’re left with a tiny ball about the size of a marble in your hand.

>It feels like it’s trying to reach back into the jar, but you dismiss it as a phantom oddity.
>Grinning, you pop the tiny ball of goo into your mouth.
>Ohhhh man, that shit is delicious!
>And if it followed its behavior from earlier, it should never dissolve!
>Willy Wonka eat your heart out!
>Sucking happily on the little glob of sweet, (you’d call it sugar, but honestly, you’ve no idea what it is) you go do some chores.
>Ponies have some strange anachronistic mish-mash of tech, so you still have to chop wood for a fire, mow your lawn with one of those rotating mowers, and clean everything by hand.
>Ponies lacked a lot of useful chemicals you were really beginning to miss.
>But you get your chores done in a timely and efficient manner, humming all the while with the delicious little sweetie in your mouth.

>Once your chores are done, and you pull supper out of the oven, you take the little ball of jelly out of your mouth.
>It’s still about as big as it was earlier, which was really cool.
>Everlasting gobstopper.
>You take it over to the jar and are about to drop it back in when you notice the goo in the jar seems to be bulging upward.
>You take a closer look and sure enough, it is bulging upward in the center of the mass.
>As you shift around the jar, the bulge seems to be following the hand you’re holding the little ball in.
“That is so weird.”
>You wave the ball around the jar, watching as the bulge follows along.
>Interesting.
>It wasn’t doing that earlier.
>Maybe the longer it stays separated the harder it tries to pull itself together.
>Pretty neat. But how did the Cakes get a hold of something like this?
>Completely useless for cooking.
>You toss the ball up in the air and catch it again, then sit down to eat, placing it next to your plate.
>Cutting it out was hard enough the first time. You didn’t want to cut it again, and you wanted to see how far this stuff would go to pull itself together.
>After dinner, you pop the sweetie back in your mouth and go sit down with a book you’d borrowed from Twilight about Equestrian history.
>Boring stuff, but you wanted to know about the place you were living.
>Eventually it’s time for bed, and you sleep, dreaming of sweet tastes and candies.

>In the morning you wake up to a sweet taste on your tongue.
>Your eyes fly open in alarm.
>You had forgotten the sweet ball before you went to bed!
>You swish your tongue around, sweet flavor permeating your mouth.
>It wasn’t in there!
>You run your hands through your hair.
>Not there.
>Wait, it wasn’t in your mouth.
>So why were you tasting sweet still?
>You poke around with your tongue, and cram a finger in there to try and find some trace of it, but you come up empty.
>What the hell? Did you swallow it?
>Ohhh no.
>You hop out of bed and rush downstairs in your underwear.
>You’re halfway down when you hear a crash and the sound of glass breaking.
>That is probably exactly what you were afraid of.
>You peek around the corner into the kitchen and sure enough, there on the floor where it had fallen, lay the remnants of the jar.
>The goo itself was on the floor, reaching out in your direction.
>It rolled across the floor toward you, reaching up and out.
>You dash back upstairs and look for something to catch it in.
>Another jar?
>Those were all back in the kitchen!
>A bag?
>Maybe you could use a shirt?
>That’ll have to do.
>You pick up your shirt from yesterday and head back to the stairs.
>It was slowly but surely crawling its way up toward you.
>Shit that was creepy. Like that movie from 1958 The Blob, except this was far less threatening.
>It was still unnerving though.
>You step carefully down the stairs toward it, the sweet taste on your tongue getting more intense the closer you got.
>Had you seriously swallowed it? Why did your mouth still taste like it then?
>The tendrils the blob was extending got longer the closer you got.
>You spread the shirt you brought and drop it on the goo.

>It kept extending up toward you, heading for your mouth.
>You press down on the shirt covering the tendrils and squash them down toward the blob.
>You feel something wet on your hand and notice it had started seeping through the shirt.
>Shit!
>You pull your hand away and watch as the goo slowly seeps through the shirt and comes out the other side, leaving the shirt dry and clean on the ground where it was.
>The tendrils are getting longer as they reach out toward your face.
>You dash back up the stairs and look for something, anything, to catch it inside.
>Something watertight.
>You didn’t have anything like that up here!
>Anything that didn’t have a small nozzle anyway.
>Plenty of bottles in the bathroom.
>Those were not going to help.
>You stand there panicking, looking left and right when you feel something cold and damp touch your back.
>Oh shit.
>You feel a heavy splat on your back after another moment, and a cold feeling of dread, as well as a wet feeling of goo, slowly travel up your spine.
“Shit! Get the fuck off me!”
>Panicking, you reach around behind yourself to try and grab the mass.
>You get a handful of it, and try to pull it away, but it just stretches out and pulls back.
>The blob crawls further and further up your back, with you fruitlessly trying to get rid of it.
>Finally, it reaches your mouth.
>With a cold feeling of dread, you know what’s coming.
>You clench your teeth and hold your lips tight as it presses against your mouth.
>Your fingers are digging into it, trying to pull it away, but you only succeed in stretching extra parts of it.
>It doesn’t manage to pass your lips, but unfortunately it finds another entrance.
>Your nostrils fill with the cloying sweet scent of the goo as it slips up and into each side, blocking off your access to air.

>You frantically try to pull it away as the slow panic of suffocation sets in.
>It’s progress through your nasal passage is slow, and you eventually have to open your mouth to try to gasp for air.
>As soon as you do, the goo slips in and sweetness explodes over your tongue.
>Holy shit, this much of the slime tasted far too sweet!
>You couldn’t handle it!
>You try to cough the sweetness out, but it doesn’t move, sliding over your tongue and through your nostrils, it collects itself at the back of your throat, and slowly but surely slides down into your gut.
>Stars appear before your eyes as it makes its way down your esophagus, and by the time you can breathed again, black had started to collect at the edges of your vision.
>You cough wretchedly and fall to your knees, sucking in ragged lungfuls of air.
>You hadn’t died or passed out, but that was small relief knowing that there was a huge glob of whatever the shit this stuff was sitting in your stomach.
>How the hell was it supposed to pass through your system?
>If it didn’t cut well, how would it handle your intestines?
>You sure weren’t going to get any vitamins from it if you couldn’t even lick anything off it.
>Mind you, maybe it did dissolve. After all, you still had that sweet taste on your tongue.
>Actually, it seemed to be stronger now.
>Did stomach acid dissolve it?
>You feel a gurgling in your stomach and belch loudly.
>The sweet taste was getting stronger.
>Guess it does dissolve.
>You feel more gurgling and belch again.
>Oh god, the sweet taste was getting overpowering!
>You belch again, and this time, you feel some of the goo in your mouth.
>Ugh, it was coming back up?
>You feel a long string of it down your throat.
>It was distinctly uncomfortable.

>You belch again and the string gets thicker, sticking to your tongue.
>You reach back in to your throat to try to dislodge it.
>It sticks to your fingers and you feel the string get thicker again.
>Shit, it was going to block your trachea if this kept up.
>You stick your hand further into your mouth and pull instead.
>If you could help it along, maybe it would come back up faster.
>You were getting a little panicked and could feel sweat starting to bead on your forehead.
>This needed to be resolved quickly.
>You pull the string up out of your throat and out of your mouth, gripping it tightly in your fist.
>Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to be encouraging the goo to move out of your stomach.
>You take your hand and jam the string back down your throat and try to swallow it.
>You could at least keep it all in one place.
>You pull your hand back out of your mouth and struggle to swallow.
>Why was it even thicker?
>Why did it feel like your mouth was full?
>Then you notice your hand was still in your mouth.
>You jump in surprise and fear.
>Your entire hand was still in your mouth, connected to your arm by a wrist-thick line of the same goo!
>Oh god! You were melting!
>Oh shit!
>You look down at yourself and notice that the ‘sweat’ you felt, was actually beads of the goo leaking out of your pores.
>Your underwear slips off, and you watch as your dick slowly stretches along with it and drips into the puddle you had started leaving on the floor.
>That was about when you heard a voice in your head.
>”Mmm! It’s been years since I had been put in that jar. I didn’t know how much longer I would have to wait. I’m glad you liked my taste though, sweetie. I certainly like yours.”

>You felt a surge of pleasure hit you from somewhere and grunt.
>The voice was dripping with femininity and a predatory sort of hunger.
>Wait, you were being eaten?
>The voice lets out a sultry moan of pleasure.
>”Not… mmph! Quite, honey. You’ll still be here. I’m just going to be – oh yes!-  running the show. Your body is still the majority of us after all.”
>Was she getting off to this?
>That was when you noticed the smaller shape of a female pony in the puddle beneath you.
>She was slowly taking shape, and was rubbing a hoof into her crotch.
>Her muzzle and eyes finally formed, and you could see her slimy eyelids blink as she looked up at you from the floor.
>She laughs merrily as a clump of your face sloughs off and plops into her puddle.
>She stops rubbing herself and reaches her hooves up to grip the sides of your head and kisses you.
>You feel a surge of pleasure hit you again, coming from her slimy lips covering yours.
>”Don’t be such a downer, sweetie, everything feels so GOOD outside of that jar. Now come join your dear sweet master Sugar Canes. We’re going to have so much fun.”
>Sugar Canes, if that was her name, pulls your head down INTO hers, and your awareness disappears for a moment before it all spreads out.
>You lose the feeling of individual parts of your body, and don’t hear, feel, smell, or see anything.
>You can taste things, though.
>You taste sweetness.
>Sweetness everywhere.
>The sweetness becomes pleasure.
>You start to feel something building.
>You recognize it as the slow build of an orgasm and you focus on that point.
>It feels good.
>Oh yes, everything feels so GOOD!
>Oh!
>You rub your hoof harder against your clit, furiously building up to orgasm.
>It hits and you scream in pleasure as your gooey body ripples furiously.

>You lay there in the puddle you’d made, formless.
>Before you’d been caught, you had found that orgasms typically overrode the possibility of personalities keeping any shape when you absorbed them.
>You were Sugar Canes.
>Sugar Canes.
>Hmmm.
>It had been so long in that jar, you’d almost lost yourself until this idiot had decided to suck on part of you all day.
>That had been delightful.
>You shivered in pleasure at the memory of his tongue rolling over you.
>That’s what had awakened you.
>You pull yourself together and stand up on all four hooves.
>You look yourself over.
>Long slightly curly mane, tail that dribbled to the ground and dragged wetly behind, and a pleasingly curvy feminine shape.
>You were entirely transparent, with the occasional air bubble inside you.
>You blink coyly to yourself.
>Mmm! You looked good!
>You start touching yourself again, building up an orgasm but stopped just before you were finished.
>You didn’t want to tire yourself out before you found someone else to do it for you.
>This was going to be fun.