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Betsy's Farm Days: Pie Eating Contest (Preview)
🕑 Added 2020-10-19 15:46:03 +0000 UTC(Work in progress, may be changed)
Dropping off the last of the chairs, Betsy brushed aside the strands of brown hair in front of her face to look over her work. It was a simple setup of a table covered in a polka dot cloth with three placed alongside one another, her tanned, muscular arms making put it all together a breeze. For the occasion, she had forgone her usual farm attire for a simple white sundress that was a few sizes too large for her buxom chest and curvy rear. While it looked especially strange on someone like Betsy who favored form instead of function, it was a rare sight that she was willing to share with her treasured guests.
“So when do we start?” Ren asked as her boots shuffled along dirt floor of the barn. In stark contrast of Betsy’s attire, she had chosen to wear a black tank top and ripped jeans that paired well with her short cut, dyed pink hair. Further distancing herself from Betsy was her relatively flat chest and rear, fitting for her short stature. Despite the difference in their physical features, the smirk on her face showed no hesitation for the challenge ahead.
“As soon as Melonie’s ready,” Betsy replied, tugging at the cloth to ensure it was properly spread across the table.
“That’s going to take foreeeeeeever. You know how long she takes to do something as simple as fix her hair.”
“Well excuse me, but perfection takes time dear.”
Betsy and Ren turned around towards the familiar voice. Among the three of them, Melonie stood out with a sundress in a dazzling, baby blue color. The fabric was tightly wrapped around her impressive bust and rear to show off her perfect hourglass figure. A straw hat with a blue ribbon that matched her dress and shimmering eyes was placed upon her long, luscious, black hair. Flouring her hair behind her back, she showed off her bright red lips as she showed an appreciative smile towards her fellow shapeshifters.
Despite Melony’s stunning appearance, Betsy shook her head. “Didn’t I tell you to wear something you didn’t mind losing?”
“Oh this old thing?” Melonie replied, waving about the hem of her skirt. “It was just something I had sitting in the back of my closet for ages.”
“You do realize that a normal person doesn’t have wardrobe that could clothe a small country, right?” Ren only half-jokingly asked.
“Say what you will, but at least Jonathan understands that a woman of elegance such as I must try to look her best on any occasion. Isn’t that right dear?”
“Yes mistress,” Jonathan replied, peeking his head out from the side of the barn. To go along with his wife, he had dressed himself in button down, blue shirt and made sure his black hair was slicked back with just the right amount of gel.
“Hey Jonny boy,” Ren said with a casual wave of her hand. “Joining in on the contest?”
“I am merely here to assist Betsy with running it since she will be participating,” he corrected.
“Yeah right. Like you’re not just saying that so you can give Melonie an unfair advantage.”
“Calm down there,” Betsy said, placing her hand on Ren’s shoulder. “You know Jonathan isn’t the kind a guy to do that. Besides, he’s not the only helper we have today.” A rhythmic honking from outside made Betsy put on a wide smile. “Speak of the devil, there he is now.”
With the rest of the group in tow, Betsy stepped outside of the barn. Waiting for her there was a white van driven by a meek young man named Arin who helped her out with various things around the farmstead. While she was happy to see his bright eyes and short brown hair, she was more interested in the contents of the back seat.
“Any trouble getting the goods?” Betsy asked, purposefully letting her bust hang over driver’s side window to easily fluster Arin.
“N-no,” he replied, turning away from her attempt to see how red she could make his face. “I’m not too late am I?”
“Nope, just in time. Now pop open the back so we can start unloading.”
“Right away Ms. Bevoin, I mean, Betsy.”
Reaching the back of the van, Betsy pulled open the doors to reveal the bounty Arin had delivered. White cardboard boxes were stacked tightly in the back seat, with very little room to spare. Picking one at random, Betsy held it out to group as she opened up the top. The gathering admired the delicious looking pie that stared back at them, marveling at the golden curst and the filling seeping out of the holes.
“Hold on,” Ren said, picking up another one of the boxes. “You bought these? I thought the tradition was that you make them all yourself.”
“Changing times call for changing methods,” Betsy answered, closing up the box and handing it off to Arin. “These contests have gotten a little too competitive for me and my humble oven to keep up with. While I cooked up a few myself for today, I decided to outsource most of the work to one of Beth’s cousins. She apparently owns a bakery and I can tell from firsthand experience they’re just as good as my own stuff.”
“Heh, we’ll see about that,” Ren replied, taking several boxes in her arms and hauling them back over to the barn.
“Line up everyone,” Betsy announced, picking up another stack. “The faster we get this done, the sooner we can get to the good part.”
One after another, Betsy handed off a stack of pies to one of her guests and sent them off into the barn. Following Betsy’s instructions, they piled up the boxes nearby the table. As they continued to stack, it soon became evident that Beth’s cousin had worked overtime to create a surplus of pies that could feed a horde of picnic goers and then some. Even still, Betsy had her doubts that it would be enough for the three competitors.
“So,” Ren said, taking her spot on the left side of the table, “you ready to lose?”
“Confident aren’t ya?” Betsy asked, bringing over three of her homemade pies to the table.
“Sure am. I’ve got a bulletproof strategy to leave you all in the dust.”
“It would be wise to not take me lightly,” Melonie said as she sat down on the seat on the right. “I didn’t come here today with the intention of losing.”
Ren let out a childish giggle. “Sorry to break it to you Mel, but this isn’t exactly your territory. The winner is the one who’s willing to do whatever’s necessary to claim victory. There’s no time for things like manners or even utensils. You have to go at it like a starving wolf and tear that pretty dress of yours to shreds.”
“As I said, I have many more like this,” Melonie replied, handing her hat off to Jonathan. “And believe me, I can get wild when I need to,” she added, a smirk on her face.
“Y’all can stop with the pre-game banter,” Betsy said, taking her spot between the two of them. “We’re about to start. Arin, you remembered what I told you?”
“Um, right. Always make sure there are at least five pies in front of each contestant, but keep my distance away from the splash zone.”
“There ya go. If you have any questions, feel free to ask Jonathan. I’ll be a bit too preoccupied to answer.”
“Are we ready to begin?” Jonathan asked, holding up a timer and setting it for one hour.
“Whenever you are Jo,” Ren replied, licking her lips at the mere thought of digging into the blueberry pie in front of her.
“Ready as always darling,” Melonie said, blowing a kiss to her husband before turning her attention back to her lemon pie.
“Same here,” Betsy replied, placing her arms behind her back like the other girls as she inhaled the aroma of her apple pie. “On your mark Jonathan.”
“Very well. On your marks. Get set.” Flourishing a bit overdramatically, he hit the button on the timer. “Go!”
