>you are a semi-successful delivery pony in the post apocalyptic wastes
>you're delivering a full cart of home brewed apple cider and Brahmin cheese from New Applelosa to Tennpony Tower
>Just before the ruins however, something ambushes you
>you awake to fined yourself tied up
>your captor turns out to be what looks like an emaciated unicorn
>she's appears to be driven near mad from starvation and made only by dehydration on account of her ramblings and the revolver she's flinging around in her telekinetic field
>she makes her intent clear
>to kill you and take whatever loot you have and get a fix from whatever chem she can buy for the caps
>your mind races to come up with a solution before she makes your brains spontaneously eject from a hole in your skull
>suddenly you get an idea
>you tell her she might want to inspect the merchandise first before she caps you
>while naturally suspicious of you, morbid curiosity wins out
>what she finds under the tarp makes her jaw drop
>without so much as an errant thought, she tears into the food stores with reckless abandon
>she nearly choked more than once trying to stuff her face full
>despite looking painfully full after only a few minutes, she keeps eating
>her brain having switched off whatever sense of discomfort any sane pony would be feeling at this point
>an hour passes
>you captor has passed out into a food coma
>not a single drop of cider or piece of cheese remains
>it's only remaining testament is the unicorn's strained belly
>a mare pregnant with twins would be put to shame by it's size
>you managed to break yourself free of your bonds
>your gorged captor doesn't stir from the noise
>with your gear recovered and her revolver in your possession, you contemplate the gurgling mess that was your captor
>you could put her out of her misery while she sleeps, but do you have the hear for it?
>you could just leave her, but would that be a worse fate?
 
you couldn't bring yourself you execute her
>she may have cost you your shipment but you're not that cold
>speaking of which, it was getting dark and there was a nip in the air
>moving her wasn't an option
>you may be an earth pony, but you can't lift that much pony
>can't leave her either, there are worse things lurking out here that would make a stuffed meal out of her
>and besides, without the shipment there's no point going to Tennpony Tower
>You take the wooden crate that once housed the bottles of cider and break it down into firewood
>using the last few drops of cider in the bottom of the bottles as lighter fluid, you spark a camp fire
>you take the discarded tarp and prepare to drape it over the snoring unicorn
>though you stop for a moment
>it's your turn for morbid curiosity to strike
>with tentative hooves, you give her belly some rubs
>yep, 'bout as taunt as a basketball full of lead pudding
>fortunately, she didn't stir from your minute of ministrations
>the tarp covered her belly more than the pony herself, but it'd do
>funny, she almost looks peaceful in this state compared to what you witnessed earlier
>still, you used the rope she tied you up with to do the same to her in kind
>just in case
>with a fire burning in front of you, and your cart moved behind you and your gorged charge, you sat and stood watch
>as predicted, you spied glowing eyes out in the darkness sizing you up
>but none dark venture near the fire's glow
>eventually, in the wee hours, sleep took you
>you head found purchase on the side of the unicorn's mass
>the constant gurgling was surprisingly therapeutic