Title:           Sweetie Belle’s day begins, as it usually does, with the sing-song voice of he
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/jvnxJtMC
First Edit:      Saturday 19th of December 2015 08:39:59 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Saturday 19th of December 2015 08:39:59 PM CDT

Sweetie Belle’s day begins, as it usually does, with the sing-song voice of her mother calling down the hall. “Sugar Booger, breakfast time!”
 
And, as usual, the baby of the family groans, clutching her pillow tight to her middle. But it’s already too late; the note is in her ear and encouraging the girl to start her day. After a few prolonged moments of frustrated flopping, Sweetie finally huffs and rolls onto her back and opens her eyes in resignation. The pastel colors of her room catch the light in a pleasant way, but it does little to lighten her mood. Another brief bout of consideration has the girl sliding into her slippers and shuffling towards the kitchen.
 
“Morning,” she grumbles, clutching a bathrobe tight around her body. Her father, a true mountain of a man, glances up from his morning coffee and flashes his daughter a grin.
 
“Same to you, Sweetie; ready for another great day at CHS?” The green-eyed girl stares at him for a long moment, still confused where he picked up the rather off-putting trill on his ‘r’s before shrugging and plopping down in her seat.
 
“I guess. I mean, it’s just school,” she says, reaching for the milk. At once, her mother swings by and, with a surprising amount of grace, takes care of filling the girl’s cereal bowl; much to Sweetie’s dismay. “Aw, c’mon Mom! Let me pour my own milk.”
 
“Just making sure we don’t have an accident like last time,” the somewhat hefty mother of two smiles, patting her daughter’s head before mincing her way to the counter and picking up a cinnamon bun. As she indulges in that first decadent bite, her face exploding with delight, Sweetie scowls.
 
“One time,” she reminds both of her parents, “My cereal got ruined one time, and that was because a light bulb blew out over my head!”
 
“Better safe than sorry,” both adults chime in, Cookie’s response slightly delayed by the sticky nature of her lips. But they still smile warmly at each other, and Sweetie huffs, going back to her breakfast with a sullen snort.
 
It isn’t as though she intends to be sour, but mornings just seem so off and stress-filled lately. Perhaps it’s just teenage hormones kicking in, but Sweetie’s sunrise struggles are, in her mind, all based around one very simple thing.
 
She just doesn’t fit in with her family.
 
“Mother!” Ugh, especially not her sister.
 
Sweetie shoots a venomous look towards the hall as Rarity bursts into the room. Magnum hides a smile behind his coffee mug and thick moustache, watching as the surprised Cookie squeaks, a bit of bun still hanging from her lips.
 
“Rarity? Sugar? What is it?”
 
“Oh, you will not believe what I saw…” and immediately, Sweetie zones out. Undoubtedly one of her friends, enemies, or frenimies has made some statement that’s filled the purple-haired girl with a righteous fury. The scene isn’t entirely unusual, but it always plays out the same way: Rarity storms in, vents to her mother, Cookie calms her down, the world doesn’t end, despite what Rarity might think. It’s really better to ignore these sorts of ‘drama bombs’ or whatever they are.
 
Unfortunately, blocking out her sister’s body isn’t quite that easy. Even out of the corner of her eye, Sweetie continues to catch sight of the glamorous girl’s pale flesh as it dips in and out of sight with her latest fashion statement. Today is a rather racy lace up bodice, designed to show off the dense darkness residing in between her massive mams. Instinctively, the younger girl brings her arms closer to her chest, once again assured that absolutely nothing has changed since the night before.
 
She is, and in her mind will forever be, Shapeless Sweetie.
 
It’s not unexpected; having a sister as stacked as Rarity is sure to make the younger girl feel somewhat inadequate. The real issue is that Cookie’s own heavenly hangers are even larger that her daughter’s, boosted by two well fed-infants and an unquestionably MILFy paunch. And yet, even at their immense size, both move with a feminine grace and poise that Stumblin’ Sweetie can never dream of matching.
 
When considering her hulk of a father, Sweetie thinks, glancing over again at the robust man seated beside her, it’s a small wonder that Rarity is the size she is. But that doesn’t explain her. The odd one out. Black sheep.
 
“Hup we go,” Magnum grunts, the sound breaking his younger daughter out of her daze and momentarily pausing the conversation between Rarity and Cookie. Crossing the kitchen, he leans over and plants a kiss on his wife’s lips. The pair giggle, and Sweetie rolls her eyes as her father makes a small smacking sound and smiles. “Sweeter than you were yesterday.”
 
Dipping her clean hand between her husband’s legs, Cookie gives him a friendly grope and bats her eyes. “Go knock’em out, sugar.” Another brief kiss and Magnum heads out to his car, leaving the girls alone.
 
“That reminds me,” Rarity says quickly, “I really ought to get going. The girls are waiting on me.”
 
“But you haven’t eaten anything,” Cookie frowns, to which her daughter rolls her eyes.
 
“Mother, I don’t need to eat all the time. One meal isn’t going to hurt.”
 
“No, but two might, and I have no idea what they’re feeding you over at CHS, much less if you’re eating it.” After a moment, she smiles and reaches onto the stovetop behind her. “Here, have one of these.”
 
Rarity’s face somehow pales even more. “A-A cinnamon bun?” With a strained smile, she bites her lip and looks away. “Mother, I shouldn’t.”
 
“Why, because it’d be murder on your figure?” Cookie asks, raising an eyebrow as she pats her paunch with her free hand. “Sugar, you come from a long line of thickly built woman. The occasional indulgence isn’t going to do any more damage than genetics will down the line.”
 
Despite seeming somewhat put off by her mother’s accusation that she might one day be wearing a double-digit waist size, Rarity eventually submits to Cookie’s probing, and hurriedly eats the breakfast treat out of her hand. Following it up with a milk chaser, she hurries out the door, jiggling and bouncing all the way.
 
“Guess it’s just you and me now, Sugar Booger,” Cookie laughs, strutting over to her youngest daughter. Sweetie grunts, shrugging and continuing to fish around in her bowl for something. Maybe there’s still a piece of fruit in there that can catch her interest. With a mother’s instinct, Cookie frowns and reaches out, placing the back of her hand against Sweetie’s forehead. “Hey, are you feeling okay?”
 
“Good as I can, I guess,” Sweetie frowns. Obviously not buying the troubled teen’s response, Cookie’s hand moves from her head to her shoulder and she gives Sweetie a good squeeze.
 
“Come on now, don’t be like that. You know you can talk to your Mom about anything, right?”
 
Sweetie sighs. “I guess.” In all honesty, she would probably clam up after the first response, but a few more squeezes on her mother’s part manages to get another line out of her. “I’m just, kinda mad.”
 
“About what? Did something bad happen?”
 
“No. It’s more about things that aren’t happening.”
 
There’s a lengthy silence as her mother ponders what Sweetie might mean by that. It isn’t until the girl makes the momentary mistake of glancing at the larger woman’s chest that Cookie’s eyes light up. “Oh, I see.”
 
Sweetie colors in embarrassment, instinctively bringing a knobby knee towards her flat chest. And the words just start spilling out. “I mean, you and dad and Rarity, you’re all so, y’know, big. Not fat just, big. And I’m little; I’m smaller than most of the girls in my year too.”
 
Cookie nods, moving her hand to rub her daughter’s back. “Mm, that can be a little rough.”
 
“Come on, Mom,” Sweetie chides, “you don’t know what that’s like. You were never small like me.”
 
“No, but I had friends who were. And sometimes they got grief too.” Pulling her daughter into a hug, Cookie gives a world weary sigh and cradles Sweetie’s head against her chest. “I know it sounds like I’m just trying to cheer you up, but I get the feeling this year is going to be a big year for you; in more ways than one.”
 
“You’re right,” Sweetie says, her mother’s face brightening for a moment before she drops the hammer, “it does sound like you’re just trying to cheer me up.”
 
Mother and daughter remain silent in their positions for a few seconds before Cookie rubs Sweetie’s back again and tries to reassure her. “Well, I do know that you’ve got two things going for you. One is a line of big, health family members,” she purrs. “And the other, is that no girl I know who ever went to CHS walked away small.”
 
“That doesn’t sound like much,” Sweetie says, still slightly taken by the possibility.
 
“Well it’s true on both ends,” Cookie assures her. “You and your friends can even investigate it if you want.”
 
At that, the young girl’s eyes light up. “Really? You think the Crusaders might be able to solve the mystery of why big boobs are standard at CHS?”
 
“I figure you’ve got as good a shot as anyone,” Cookie laughs, squeezing Sweetie tightly. “But if you want to do that, you got to go to school first, right?”
 
Sweetie nods, so taken with the idea that she bolts from her mother’s grip and hustles up the stairs. If she strains her ears, Cookie can hear her already on the phone with her friends, no doubt telling them that she’s got a new case for them to solve.
 
“That girl is so easy to play sometimes,” Cookie chuckles, reaching for another cinnamon roll. It’s not like Sweetie’s going to even think about breakfast after getting so excited. And it would be a shame to let it go to waste.
 
As she munches on her treat, she considers her own words for a moment. CHS does have a habit of putting out curvaceous girls and well built boys. The reason, well, she can’t even quite figure it out herself. Maybe if she’d think a little harder then…
 
But again, the thought is only for a moment. And then it’s gone, in favor of the sweet endorphins flooding her brain. Some things are just more important, after all.