Pinkie Pie was pretty much the only pony in Ponyville who didn’t seem to mind the heat.  She bounced merrily through the town square on her way to Sugar Cube Corner, just as she always had, saying hello to the few other citizens she passed.

First, she saw a mare standing by her cart filled with vases of bright red roses.

“Hello, Roseluck!” she chimed.  The cream-colored earth pony wiped her brow with her hoof and smiled back at Pinkie.

“Hi,” she said, climbing on two legs to adjust the position of the large pink umbrella above her.

Next, Pinkie saw a white pony approach with a baby dragon riding on her back.  The dragon held a pair of black reins attached to a steel bit cinched between the pony’s jaws.  Her saddlebags were stuffed with partially-visible cans of whipped cream.

“Hello, Rarity!  Hey, you’re giving your little Spikey-wikey a ride?”  Pinkie giggled, clopping her hooves on the ground.  Rarity looked nervous, feeling Spike’s eyes burning through the fur on the back of her neck.

“Mrnk yew Prnkie,” Rarity mumbled around the bit in her teeth.  Spike yanked back on her reins and she squealed, her eyes filling with tears as she plodded past her.

Finally, Pinkie passed two mares on a park bench.  One of them, a unicorn, was noticeably taller than the other even though she was sitting with her knees on the ground.  The other, a mare with a curly blue and pink mane, was sitting upright on the bench, her partner’s upper body holding her legs apart.

“Hey, Lyra!  Hey, Bon Bon!”

“Oh–oh–ohhhh, Lyra—!” cried Bon Bon as Lyra’s hand slipped deeper into her pussy, her engorged lips sucking tightly against Lyra’s damp wrist.  Lyra hummed with approval and slowly squeezed the hand into a fist inside her partner’s body.  Her tongue slipped inside Bon Bon’s belly button before she gave the fleshy pucker a kiss. “No—it’s too tight—!” Bon Bon whimpered, her body trembling as, without warning, two breasts popped from her flat beige chest.  Lyra just kept humming as she rubbed her own moist pussy between two lean fingertips.

This struck Pinkie as odd.  Sure, Roseluck was selling flowers and Rarity was giving Spike a ride, but what were these two doing?

Pinkie was about to look back again when her Pinkie Sense made her tail begin to twitch.  Right away, she knew what it meant.  She took a step to the right, yanking herself out of the way before something small landed right next to her, kicking up a cloud of dust.  Pinkie coughed and looked up, seeing Derpy flying erratically through the clear blue sky.  The dust cleared, Pinkie looked down, and “The Goddess Within” was lying at her hooves.

“Hey!” she yelled at Derpy, “you dropped your book!”  But the mail mare didn’t respond and instead disappeared behind the town’s clock tower.  Pinkie’s eyes spotted the time.  “Oh, no, I’m gonna be late!”  She stooped down and picked up the book with her mouth.  As she began to gallop toward her destination, her tongue chanced to flick the cover.  It tasted weird to her: almost like chocolate, but stickier.

A few moments later, Pinkie was through the front door of Sugar Cube Corner, where Mrs. Cake was nudging a large crate toward the wood-cut counter in her kitchen.   Spots of sweat were smeared over the front of her apron, her curvy light blue body strained from the effort.  Almost immediately, Pinkie could smell the familiar cinnamon and chocolate scents of the shop, though this time a hint of fruit was noticeable as well.  She guessed the kind of fruit as soon as Mrs. Cake bumped open the crate, revealing a pile of fresh bananas.  Pinkie zipped toward her and, spitting the book onto a counter, peered inside, feeling her mouth begin to water.

“Oooh,” said Pinkie, “what’re we going to do with these?”  The older pony sighed.

“We have to make a banana cake for the Princess,” Mrs. Cake answered, disinterested. “It’s a last-minute order from earlier today, so come on, let’s get going.”  Pinkie sprang up and down again, her legs flailing frantically every time she was airborne.  Mrs. Cake, on the other hand, continued to mope.

“Oh, boy!” Pinkie squealed, “And are we gonna make banana flavored frosting with banana pieces and little itty-bitty sugary tiny—”

“Yes,” Mrs. Cake interrupted, “of course, just like you’re supposed to, okay?”  Pinkie stopped jumping and, sheepishly, looked back to the other side of the kitchen.

“Where’s Mr. Cake, Mrs. Cake?” asked Pinkie.  “Don’t we need him to help with the baking?”  Mrs. Cake sighed again, avoiding eye contact.

“Mr. Cake and I are having—some personal problems,” Mrs. Cake said to the wall.  Pinkie craned her head toward her, but Mrs. Cake brushed her off with a waving hoof.

“Oh no!  What kind of problem is it?  Can I help?  ‘Cause you know a good friend is always there for her friends when they—” Mrs. Cake turned around, the anger in her round face frightening the giddy Pinkie into submission.

“A personal problem, Pinkie.” she answered, “Now don’t worry about it and let’s—” It was then that Mrs. Cake noticed the book on the counter.  Her cheeks blushed and her pupils shrank several times smaller from their normal size.  “What’s that, Pinkie?”  Pinkie turned toward “The Goddess Within,” and her uncontrollable happiness returned.

“Oh, yeah,” said Pinkie, “you’re never gonna believe this, it was so silly!  I was just bouncing along, minding my own business, and I saw Roseluck and Spike and Rarity and Lyra and Bon Bon and then my Pinkie Sense made my tail twitcha-twitch and I moved and this book landed next to me.  I think Derpy dropped it trying to get it out to somepony, and I couldn’t get her back in time, and I didn’t want to leave it there, and it looked like it was a really good book, and I knew I was late to help you and Mr.—I mean help you with this cake and so I brought it here, and here it is!  Isn’t that crazy?!”

But Mrs. Cake didn’t hear a word of Pinkie’s story.  She was absolutely terrified, thinking that her tenant, the town chatterbox, had read the book, the one thing which the sender told her to absolutely, positively make sure nopony else did but her.  She’d promised that against all odds she’d keep the book safe and tell nopony who had written it, for fear of what the Princess might say or do.  But now, she—or, more accurately, the Equestrian Postal Service—had broken that promise, and though she did not know what her punishment would be, she knew it was on its way, and she was certain it would be severe.

With this fear came anger, but then, very quickly, a strange acceptance, the baker recognizing that nothing she did now would change her fate.  And, least of all, it didn’t matter if Pinkie learned the rest of the story.  

As Pinkie continued to laugh and chatter through some tortured segue about funny words that rhyme, Mrs. Cake lifted her bowed head, revealing the tears in her eyes.

“Mr. Cake’s never bucked me,” said Mrs. Cake miserably.  Pinkie stopped, the confusion clear on her face.

“Huh?” asked Pinkie, “I–I don’t understand, Mrs. Cake.”  She really didn’t.  Her boss gave a weary smile.

“I’m sorry you had to learn it this way,” said Mrs. Cake, “it’s my fault, I suppose.  I’ve been too scared to ask him, and he’s never made a move on me.  I just thought doing this would help us out so we could start a family.”  Pinkie’s eyes began to tear up as well.

“Mrs. Cake—” sobbed Pinkie.

As Mrs. Cake shook her head, the irony of it all washed over her.  Though she’d requested the book at great personal risk to herself, she never herself had a chance to read it.  But she then realized that now, even with Pinkie there, was just as good a time as any, and there was no time to lose.  She got up on her hind legs and nudged the book open with her nose.  Flipping through the pages, she found the table of contents and hummed the chapter titles to herself, looking for the one the sender told her about.  Pinkie Pie peeked over the other side of the counter, still not sure what her employer was up to.

“Here it is!” said Mrs. Cake, “Chapter 69: Foreplay with Food.”  As she flipped over to the page and began reading, Pinkie couldn’t stop more words from coming.

“Ooh, you mean like a food fight!  ‘Cause those are so much fun!  Lemme see what I can grab and I’ll show you—”

“Shh!” hushed Mrs. Cake.  “Let me finish reading this, and then we’ll start.”  

Pinkie nodded, then made a zipper motion with her hoof across her grinning mouth.  She stepped back around the counter and watched with excitement, then confusion as Mrs. Cake began to breathe deeply, her face looking like her every thought was hanging on each word.  She could see her begin to sweat, her hooves knocking against the flimsy knot that held her apron to her body. With some nudging, she managed to guide her head out of the frilly hole on top.  Naked, Mrs. Cake glanced up at the clock on the wall, turned the page, and, after a few moments, finished reading.

“All right,” said Mrs. Cake with determination as she trotted toward a window.  “Here’s how we’re going to do this.”  She nudged her nose under a pie she had made that morning and lifted it onto her snout, letting a gob of cherry filling drop on the floor.  She laid it down at Pinkie’s feet, not caring that she’d broken the crust.  “I know you’ve been practicing this, so I want you to lie back and smash this pie all over you.”  She then trotted back to the window, her large blue asscheeks rubbing against each other.  “I’ll do the same with this other pie.”  Pinkie gingerly put her nose under the pie.

“That’s not like any food fight I’ve done, Mrs. Cake,” said Pinkie as she eased onto her back.  “Usually, you throw it at somepony else.”  Mrs. Cake was about to say something, but instead forced her nose under the second pie and sat next to Pinkie on the floor.  The blue pony tried to roll onto her back, but she fell right after she sat down, causing the pie to splatter against her blue chest.  Warm gooey filling slithered over her curves, and small syrupy cherries floated in the sea of red amidst flaky icebergs of shattered crust.  Mrs. Cake purred loudly, feeling the heat of the mess as it spread over her.  Her front hooves began to mash themselves into the boiling goo as it conquered her fur.

Pinkie shrugged, then flicked her nose against the edge of the pie so that, with a loud smack, it splattered all over her lap.  The result made her yelp in pain from the heat, her upper body springing up as she hissed through clenched teeth.  But soon the goo covered her as well, trickling in all directions over her lower half.  The majority of it slid downward and plunged between her rear legs, smothering her marehood in its thick embrace.

“Ooooooohhhhh—ooh—ohhhhhhhh—” cried Pinkie, easing back down and letting her hooves slip between her legs in a half-hearted attempt to brush the stuff off of her.  As she moved, a loud sucking sound came from the spot, and she pressed down between the cherry slime-covered lips of her marehood, feeling the warmth inside her.  As she pushed harder, a cherry squeezed through her soaked pussy lips, and the tiny fruit popped inside her.  She exhaled loudly and her mane and tail relaxed, the curly hair deflating, then flattening into the sultry straight hair of her youth, her mane falling to cover the left half of her face.  

Pinkamena had returned.

Mrs. Cake looked over and followed Pinkamena’s lead.  She drew two crescents of goo on her lower body as her hooves pressed against her own marehood, one on top of the other.  She moaned loudly as she began to feel moisture cover her thick hooves, her fat thighs squeezing her rotating leg between them.

By this point, Pinkamena could feel her body begin to pull apart like warm taffy, distending and stretching into sweeping curves.  Her legs grew into longer, more slender forms that led up to generous hips, where her buttocks now poured themselves into a soft teardrop shape.  Her hooves throbbed harder than the rest of her tingling body, buckling in hard, thick pulses into hands, her narrow fingers wedging two, then three at a time between her pussy lips until they reached her even pinker depths.  Her chest tingled, then bulged rapidly into two hand-sized breasts, their dark pink nipples pushed painfully into hardened nubs.

“See?” huffed Mrs. Cake, “I knew you were good at this.”  Pinkamena only moaned in response, still unable to comprehend what had just happened to her.

Mrs. Cake was in the closing stages of changing as well.  Hers was a smoother transition than Pinkamena’s, preserving many of her existing curves, but large, low-slung breasts came forth to complement her mammoth ass.  As she morphed into her new shape, feeling the cherry goo slip under her bountiful chest, she began to resemble a fertility goddess with pink hair, thick and large, but undeniably feminine.  Her hands were huge, stretched by the mysterious force within her such that she could embrace large parts of her flesh in one grip, which she proceeded to do as her hind legs finished bulking into longer forms.

Mrs. Cake let go of her marehood and rolled to her knees.  Her head at Pinkamena’s feet, she brushed her heavy body up the front of the pink pony, letting her breasts drag up the length of her changed body.  With the cherry pie as lubricant, Mrs. Cake’s nipples tingled at the touch, and Pinkamena shivered under her breath as they traced up her torso, building gradually to a sudden body-convulsing twitch when their nipples touched.  Without thinking, Pinkamena grabbed Mrs. Cake’s right breast in her hands and thrust the large dark-blue nipple into her mouth, tasting the cherry pie on top, plus a hint of mother’s milk.  Mrs. Cake savored the sensation, craning her head back as she stepped her knees to Pinkamena’s sides, taking the back of her tenant’s head in her blue hands.  

She stopped short of sitting on Pinkamena and stood up, releasing her so she could retrieve three handfuls of bananas from the crate.  Pinkamena leaned sideways and looked back at Mrs. Cake with hunger in her eyes, licking her lips while rubbing cherry pie all the way down the front of her, becoming one with her new bipedal form.  Mrs. Cake then walked back to her and sat in front of her feet, letting her hind legs step out in front of her so that her hooves came within inches of her partner’s.  Pinkamena’s hand was still stirring her own pussy, the tenant aroused by the fact that her boss was watching her.

Mrs. Cake peeled one of the bananas, slipped the tip of it in her mouth. and proceeded to suck it lovingly.  She then withdrew it so that it flipped down her lower lip, then her neck, and finally around the curvature of her breasts.  From there, her other hand grabbed hold and, with Pinkamena still watching, she plunged the banana between her legs.  As Mrs. Cake leaned forward and moaned, the fruit flopped between of her puffy blue lips and slipped inside her with ease, eventually squeezing out of its peel.  She could feel the fruit draw deeper inside her and mash into a thick cream, her pussy twisting and buckling the juice-covered object until it was one with her essence.  

Filled with fruit, Mrs. Cake held one hand over her crotch and pushed Pinkamena backward with the other, walking forward on her knees until she straddled the pink pony’s face.  Only then did Pinkamena let go of herself and begin to caress the warm folds of Mrs. Cake’s legs, reaching up to guide Mrs. Cake’s hands away from her glutted pussy.  The blue mare then began to crouch down on her face, her eyes downcast as she sighed.  The more she moved, the more Pinkamena could see the lips of her pussy separate, squeezing the thick mixture of bananas and sex out of her and straight down Pinkamena’s wanting throat.  She swallowed the mixture gladly, then pushed herself out from under her so that Mrs. Cake could sit on the floor.

As Pinkamena stood above her boss, she turned and plucked from the crate a particularly large banana, a single fruit that measured nearly eighteen inches in length and three inches in diameter.  Mrs. Cake gasped, watching the pink pony trace her steady hands over its length.  Mrs. Cake shifted her weight and began to pant, massaging her breasts and fingering her pussy, taking time to taste the remains of the mixture she had just expelled into her protégé.  

Slowly, Pinkamena peeled the fruit apart, her seductive eyes peering from beneath her flattened mane.  Then, when the girth of the entire banana was revealed, she turned her to the side, stuck out her tongue, and began to ease the fruit into her mouth.  More and more of it disappeared into her, continuing on as it headed straight down her throat.  Pinkamena felt her way up to her left breast, twisting the hard nipple on top, then let the banana slip in and out, in and out, never gagging on it, never once letting the white object touch her teeth.  At last, she pulled it out completely, letting her tongue flick the moistened tip.

Pinkamena then got down on all fours, and with fruit in hand, walked up to Mrs. Cake, kissing her passionately on the lips.  As their two faces mashed together, Pinkamena’s left hand traced the banana over the edge of Mrs. Cake’s right shoulder, leaving trails of sticky juice and spit all over her blue fur.  Pinkamena kissed her right breast, then the nipple, which she nibbled gently as she thrust her hand downward to let the fruit slip between Mrs. Cake’s waiting pussy lips.  The giant object faced some resistance at first, but when Pinkamena bit her nipple a little harder, Mrs. Cake moaned and grabbed onto the back of her head, then relaxed and let the first nine inches of it slip deep inside her body.  Pinkamena smiled and traced her tongue up the edge of Mrs. Cakes’ round jaw line all the way up to the tip of her right ear.

Not wasting any time, Pinkamena sat back at Mrs. Cake’s feet, stepping her legs apart so that they were now tangled between hers, both their marehoods clearly visible to the other.  Between them, the remaining nine inches of the banana protruded rudely from Mrs. Cake’s pussy like a fat white cock, and to her it felt every bit as sensitive.  With a muffled clopping sound, Pinkamena crab-walked forward a few steps and took the other end of the banana in her fingers, guiding the curved end into her own pussy.  Then she took another step, another, and another still, letting it slide inside of her until, at last, the two mares’ organs clapped together, linked by the fruit buried inside them.

“Aaaaaauuughhhh—” the two ponies cried together, their fingers threading between one another as their palms pressed together.  

Instantly, both their hips rocked and bucked against each other, their engorged clits colliding, the flesh kissing and sending stinging impulses of pleasure with every beat.  The more they thrust, the more the two of them pressed together, as if trying to merge into one creature.  Their thighs pressed upward and their arms reached around behind one another, yanking them closer so that their breasts hit and crowded together, their sore nipples poking into each other’s fur.  And, finally, their two faces met in another kiss, their spit-drenched tongues dribbling over one another as they fucked each other harder and harder, louder and louder.

Finally, critical mass was achieved, and both ponies fell over the edge together, their orgasms buckling their sweaty bodies together in an even tighter embrace.  Pinkamena came a moment before her boss, a spurt of rainbow-colored confetti bursting from her loins with a strange party favor noise, littering the square pieces all over Mrs. Cake’s loins until they resembled lost kites stuck in the tangled bush of the elder pony’s pink pubic hair.  Mrs. Cake then fired back with gob of pale blue frosting-like substance that smelled of musk and vanilla, a material heavy enough to finally cause the burdened banana to break between the two ponies, the goo smothering Pinkamena’s sizzling cunt with several coats.

As more and more of the strange excretions shuddered forth from the two lovers, their fingers gradually untangled and hardened into hooves that were pressed firmly together.  Their bodies returned to normal at an extremely slow speed, their spines readjusting first such that they fell onto their backs like turtles, watching their familiar bodies again take form.  Two halves of discarded banana spurted out and fell from their exhausted marehoods.  At last, they were lying on their sides, breathing deeply into the messy wooden floor in a room that reeked only of sex with a hint of food.

Then, from the quiet, came another party favor sound as Pinkamena’s mane and tail fluffed out into familiar curls.

“Now that was fun!” said Pinkie Pie, “I’ve gotta tell my friends about this.  So what was that book about, anyway?”

Mrs. Cake froze, then placed a sticky hoof over her face.