It’s cramped. The brightly lit kitchen hurt your eyes, and you feel horribly restricted. You thought since you have been living here for over a year you would have gotten used to it, you haven’t.

You remember back in the day how it all happened, the freak magical explosion at the Como Zoo that sent you here. The thought of what happened to those poor monkeys still haunts your dreams. You were a hit though when you first were discovered on equestrian soil. Talk shows, photos with royalty, party invites to all of the best Canterlot parties.

A real human!

Alas, no matter how big a splash you make in this world whether you're Celestia, Prince Blueblood, Fancy Pants or even a human, eventually, nobody gave a shit.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you could move around a little more, even if it was just a little bit. The kitchen was built for ponies, not humans. You knew you had to get your work done for the day. The low hanging ceiling that you kept bumping your head on while you cook didn’t make anything easier on you.

You rub the small bump that had started to form, along with the four others that you had acquired that day alone.

It didn’t hurt much, you had long gotten used to it. There was even a small divot in the ceiling where you customarily hit your head.

You look down on the wood counter before you. You pick up one of the small crème tarts that you had been working on for the last fifteen minutes. It was finished but no matter how hard you looked at it, it felt like there was something missing.

“Hey Mr. Cake, does this tart look off to you?” you ask.

Mr. Cake, who was preparing to make a batch of cookies, turns and gives your work a brief examination. He stared at it for a while he mulled over, you think he seems to have the same suspicion you did that something was amiss.

“Did you remember the vanilla extract?”

“Yes,” you reply.

Before he can ask, you hand him the treat for a taste inspection. This was the common practice when you first started to learning how to bake from the baker. His eyes narrow as he looked at the very top of tart. He bit in and mulled over the sugary treat, he licked his lips as it finally descended into his gut.

“Taste fine to me; you’re really getting the hang of this.” He said as he turned his attention back to the cookies.

You shrug. If he said they were good, they were good.

“Thanks,” you say. You had been living there for almost an entire year. You hoped by now that your baking expertise would improve a little.

You start to package the tarts into a white delivery box, four long and three high. Shut, sealed and ready to be taken out and enjoyed. Now though came the favorite part of the job. You grab the package and carry it to the back counter, to see her waiting for you, Pinkie Pie.

You set the box right on the side of her. Waiting eagerly for the treats to be taken away so they could be given to the pony who ordered them. Although she had not noticed yet, you ‘accidentally’ bump her side alerting her of your presence.

She turns, and giggles.

“Hi there sweetie, just when did you get here? Are those the tarts for tomorrow?” Pinkie asks. You enjoy the close quarters with the mare. She was the one reason why you took the job here in the first place. Although your relationship blossomed at an exponential rate, you still enjoy the small things with her.

When the news spread around that she was dating a human, it came to no shock to anypony, like it was to be expected from her. You never did question it. Nor did you care.

You raise a brow, curious to the fact that tomorrow was the day off. There was baking to be done for a marriage ceremony, but no deliveries were picked up for the next three days and the store would be closed.

“Who are the tarts for?” you asked.

Pinkie looks up with a gleaming smile; the bounce in her mane seemed to come alive as she spoke.

“There for me and the girls silly. I told you two weeks ago we were going to the Crystal Empire.”

Then you remembered Spike taking Gummy earlier that day. You really did like Gummy; he was the only soul in the house that just seemed to always listen. Not that he had much choice in the matter.

You, however, did want the ritual that you two had started to go unfinished. Pinkie Pie herself was eating the tarts that you had prepared; it only made it all the sweeter.

“Order up.” You stated in a voice that drifted near the erotic side.

It was like the magic words that opened the doors to the golden city. Her eyes narrowed as a sheepish grin started to perch on her face. It was the last order of the evening; since you two lived with Mrs. cake you devised a certain set of codes. You had one very simple code.

Order up meant ‘sex now’. You loved being simple about it.

“Orange ducks drifting on a purple river or bright yellow ball being kick to the moon?” She replied back.

Pinkie Pie, however, made a two hundred and ninety four page book of codes. While you read through it once, you never have been able to decipher any code she had ever given you. Once in awhile though you played along like you knew what you were talking about. Last time, however, you regretted making that decision.

Although you don’t remember that night, you long since repressed that memory. You did know one thing though, something that Pinkie Pie has yet let you do, her ass. You always had a thing for butts, big, round, soft and squishy.

You loved them all.

Now that you and Pinkie has been together for so long you would think she would let you take a crack at it just once. Alas, even on your birthday, it was still a no. You didn’t mind too much, Pinkie was wild in the bedroom. Every night she had come up with a new way to please. Every night for almost eight months now you had her by your side.

You never answer her as you pet the long length of her back. She always liked the way your hand drifted down her coat. The soft fur felt great against your skin; drifting slow down her coat you give her flank a tight squeeze. Full palm, all five fingers gripping tightly onto her pink pudge.

“Maybe we can try something different tonight.” You say in a low whisper.

There was nopony around in the entire baker save for Mr. Cake who was baking cookies. Mrs. Cake was upstairs tending to the twins. Although she had not been down all day. Normally you two would retire for the night right when the bakery closes. This left hours of reproductive fun in the top floor of the house.

Your eyes betray the area you want to explore, right under the tail. The fact that you had been forbidden from entering the small entrance only made you want it more.

“Really now?” she said as she wiggled her tail, brushing the inside of your legs.

You are already standing at attention, although the tight blue jeans you are wearing left much to be desired.

She smirks at you, her left brow rising ever so slightly as she bumped your erection against her cutie mark. A faint shiver runs down your spine. You had been getting attention every day. Even a few hours now seem like an eternity for the little man.

It doesn’t take you long to head to the bedroom.

Having sex in Equestria made things much easier than on Earth, the gravity it much lighter here. Although you have grown accustomed to it, there are a few perks that came along. The first of which was your strength.

You were by no means a body builder. You are average in almost every sense of the word. Although by Equestrian standards you would be super human. In reality, things are just a lot lighter here. A full grown stallion weighs only about fifty or so pounds in Earth terms.

The second perk was density; your flesh is just different from anything in Equestria. You never would have noticed it, ever. You carry your own weight.

Pinkie Pie was the only pony to have ever noticed. From her accounts from intimacy, it was like a molten crème that had the weight of lead bars. First you thought she was joking, until she stepped on a scale after one vigorous night.

She gained ninety five pounds.

She enjoyed it through, or she said she does, although she always does make it habit to make sure not a single drop escapes her.

On a more personal level you gave a whole new meaning to ‘pissing like a racehorse’.

“No Booboo the monkey, don’t eat the banana, it’s a trap.”

You shoot up straight from a dead sleep, covered in sweat. Several heavy breaths escape your lungs until you realize it was just a night terror. You cover your face and press down on your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger.

After taking a few minutes to compose yourself you look over to your bed mate. Pinkie Pie seemed unaffected, this was normal. Saying she slept like a log was a gross understatement and insult to trees. Although you have developed a sure fire way to wake her up, now though it was not the time.

You watch her sleep. She looks like a doll with her mane puffed up. You can only wonder what she is dreaming about.

You hear a faint familiar sound off in the distance; a long sigh escapes your lips knowing full well the muffle cries. Easing yourself off the bed, making no attempt to be quiet about it. Giving yourself a quick stretch, you make your way out the door.

It was two rooms down, the cries of want got louder as you got near. You flick on the light to Pumpkin’s room. You were thankful that the children now slept in separate rooms. The way she was bellowing she would have surely woken up her brother Pound.

“Hey you little stinker, you need to be quiet. Your mom’s trying to sleep.” You say as you stride forward.

She was standing on her back hooves with her front set waving in the air to get picked up. Thankfully she quieted down as you approached.

“Up-see-daisy,” you say as you take the filly into your arms.

“Daddy.” She said with a beaming smile.

You couldn’t help but be touched by the sentiment. This was not the first time she mistook you for her father. She had not seen him in well over four months. You pepper her tummy with kisses causing her to have a giggle fit.

You tosses her in the air a few times, wanting to give her as much attention as possible. She wasn’t even five pounds, the huge toothy smile on her face said you were doing a good job.

“Daddy.” She said again.

You were never going to correct her; you always wanted to have a little one of your own. Now though that was now impossible given the current circumstances. Being a stand in dad, however was just as good.

After a few more tosses and around a hundred more kisses. Pumpkin finally started to yawn. Using your ‘self-proclaimed’ godlike voice you sooth her with a lullaby that your mother used to sing to you. You lay her down in the crib and give her the small brown teddy bear for her to grapple onto.

“Night, Pumpkin.”

You turn to leave but your exit had been blocked.

“Oh, hi Mrs. Cake,” you say bashfully. You didn’t expect anyone to be listening to your little number.

Cup Cake sniffed as she tried to force the smile down that was building. Her upper lip started to tremble slightly at the sight. She tilts her head to the side to alert you to follow her.

You obey; she was your landlord after all. Although, you wish you had more clothes on than your black boxer briefs. This, however wasn’t the first time she has seen you in your underwear. Normally everyone was naked; you just didn’t feel right having your privates hang out for all to see.

You follow her to the kitchen. It was rudimentary simple design, compared to the kitchen downstairs. She gestured for you to take a seat next to the table. You watch her curiously as she makes her way to the fridge.

“Would you like something to drink?” she questioned.

“Milk would be nice.” You reply.

She pauses for a moment like she was about to question your answer.

“So, what are you doing up so late?” you question. Trying your best to make conversation until you are able to get to consume the sweet velvety liquid.

You really like milk.

She didn’t answer right away, two glasses of milk were clamped in her teeth.

You kindly wait for her to sit before taking the first sip of milk.

“I haven’t gone to sleep yet.”

You were taken back slightly as you give her a ‘you serious’ look.

“Well,” as if by answer your next question. “There were some particularly loud noises.” Cup Cake looked over with a smirk.

It took you all of two seconds to realize she heard Pinkie. That mare doesn’t know the meaning of quite.

“Sorry about that…” You say, not ashamed in the slightest. You like that you are able to satisfy Pinkie. Compared to what you see walking around Ponyville, your not much compared to a horse. Although you do know your way around, this helps for the most part.

She leaned in and pushed your shoulder slightly, “That’s not what I was talking about. Although I can hear you two going at it sometimes. No, Pound and Pumpkin have been waking up all night again and again.”

You only noticed the one time, Cup Cake had been attending to them the whole night.

“I know it’s not my place to say…” You knew this was a touchy subject. “Why don’t you let Carrot Cake come back? You let him work in the bakery, I know he is sorry for what he did and he talks about you all the time when we are working.”

You got the reaction you expected. Immediately her face went crest fallen and now she avoided eye contact. Her hooves tapped the top of the table to a tune only she knew.

A few months ago on the twins second birthday, Carrot Cake found a photo of a stallion that looked just like Pound. He did have his suspicion since the twin’s birth that he wasn’t the real father. The photo tipped him over the edge and accused Cup Cake of cheating.

She denied the allegation of course. Carrot Cake wouldn’t hear of it. What happened next is still a mystery to this day. You don’t lie to yourself, you envied Carrot Cake.

He would never tell anypony how he did it. Maybe he was the world’s greatest lover, or a master with words. How Carrot Cake found his way to Princess Celestia’s bed chambers you would never know.

That nice big flank of hers, the alicorn showed off to all. You knew you could never get a chance at it. Still you wanted to, who wouldn’t. You knew full well if Celestia asked to sleep with you, it wouldn’t take you three heart beats before you would pound her royal hole.

Carrot Cake did get that chance and took it.

Although when the paternity test came back for the twin’s, Carrot now had real proof he was the father. By then though it was too late. Now Carrot sleeps in a motel several blocks down and commutes to work. Never allowed to see his children and paying half his wages in child support.

Although she asks a question that startles you.

“What does he say about me?”

Now was your time to shine, you thought. Carrot Cake may have made a stupid move. You knew if you were in his shoes you would do that same. You knew you couldn’t patch up this marriage with just one sitting. But maybe, just maybe, get her to view him like she used to.

Expect one thing; Carrot Cake never did talk about Cup Cake. He talked about Celestia; it would be his crowning achievement until the day he died. He never spoke about Cup Cake at all.

So you lied.

“Tons of things, you name it. From dates to the twins. To the way you coat shines in the moonlight.”

You were now spent; this was the farthest you could go. All other subject matter that would make a mare feels special. Now though, you start to examine her features, you really never looked at her in such a way before. Though you needed material to work with.

“He talks about how lovely your mane is and how he misses the soft feel against his coat at night. The way your eyes sparkle even when there is no light. The way your heart beat is always with his.”

You could tell that Cup Cake didn’t care very much for what you were saying, she looked bored, uninterested. You were slightly offended, these were your top of the line romance lines you used with Pinkie. So you decided to go for something a little more sexual.

“He also…” You pause to build tension, “misses the way you feel on top of him.”

That was the ticket. Then you realized, she had been judged. Carrot Cake didn’t have any romance with Celestia, it was just sex. She had been compared to her in the most intimate of ways.

Cup Cake looked over, her eyes were wide and face flush.

“He talked about our sex life?”

You nearly squeed on the inside, you were going to make yourself a hero.

“All the time,” you knew you had to be convincing. Although not to specific, you had to be generic. You really didn’t know what their bedroom life is like. “The way you stroke your tongue up and down his shaft. The way you grind when you ride him. The way you squeak a little just before you’re about to cum."

Cup Cake’s entire coat went scarlet. You were on a roll, just one last line to pull it in Carrot’s favor. Alas, those were the top three generic lines; they applied to almost every female. Everything else you could think of only had a 50/50 chance of being right, you scan her body for something you didn’t make a reference too.

You spot the Holy Grail, her flank. It was considerably larger than most mares considering she had foals. Not to mention she had to taste test sweets all day. It wasn’t bad to look at either; it was just the right shape, round.

“Don’t get me started on your butt…” you finish with confidence.

“Oh he talked to you about that.” She said slightly ashamed.

“Oh yes he did. On and on he went about it. Couldn’t get him to shut up, never seen a stallion who like them more.”

Cup Cake face deadpanned, as her eyes narrowed intently. “Really now, what precisely does he like about my flank?”

The ball was in your court, flanks where your thing. Shape, size, texture, you knew most of it and more. When it came to it, you knew your way around.

“Oh, just how he can’t stop looking at it, longing to touch those sweet cheeks again. Looking to mow down your back yard. Scoot down the poop chute. Grab those cheeks and cram your dam.” You continued on with the butt puns for well over five minutes. You could have gone on forever with anal references. You knew she got the point, although you didn’t expect the next question.

“So, what do you think of my butt?”

You were slightly taken back; you were not prepared for your opinion. For what you were saying was your opinion. You didn’t want to give it.

“Well I have never really looked at your butt. I can’t give you my opinion on something I haven’t examined.” It was a small white lie; you have looked at it a few times but purely out of interest.

You thought you were home free. You were wrong.

She got up off the chair, not taking a moment to consider otherwise. She twisted her supple frame and pointed her flank right in your face. There was a huge difference now in your opinion. Her ass had a lot more shape than it did while she was sitting. You didn’t even care she was blatantly exposing her flank to you.

“Touch it, if you want.”

You haven’t even mentally eyed it over yet. Now you’re allowed to touch? To say you felt like a kid in a candy store would have been ironic. It was a candy store.

The pudgy plump flank really did shine in the light. Or it was your imagination playing out a fantasy, either way it was hot. A stray thought came across your mind; what flavor the cupcakes on her flank tasted like?

Her tail was just curled in the right spot so that you couldn’t see anything underneath. Although you were looking at the delicate curves that were drawn into the fur. You almost lost it when she started to clench each cheek, the muscle below now outline were it ended and the soft tissue started.

Well, she did offer. You didn’t want to be rude.

You reach out, all fingers spread apart to cover more of the succulent flank. Just inches away from touching the mare's hind legs buckled. You knew you should have acted quicker on the offer.

“Are you ok?”

She clenched her teeth as she tried to stand up again, her hind legs wobbled under the strain.

“I’m alright; the girls haven’t gotten any attention since the twins started teething.”

It took you a moment to understand. Her teats were completely swollen and even now they were lactating. You try not to blush from the sight. You have seen her give milk to the twins on countless occasions.

“Don’t you have a milk pump or something?” you ask, slightly embarrassed.

She shook her head.

“We used too but the twins never drank the milk. I learned a few techniques from my cousin Milky in Trottingham on how to milk myself. Although I forgotten how to be honest, Carrot used to be the one to milk me.”

Instinctively you reach for one of the swollen tits. You figure one gentle squeeze will alleviate some of the pressure. You didn’t live on a farm but you have seen enough movies to know how to milk a cow. This couldn’t be that different.

Again, though, right before you are able to make contact, her hind legs crumple as another shockwave courses through her body. Not the good kind.

“You need me to call a doctor?” you ask, this was looking a little more serious than intended.

She shook her head.

“No I’ll be better in the morning; I just need to get a little rest is all.”

Although she still doesn’t move. You wait for a minute before you take your own action. You reach under her front forelegs. Although she looked to be a plus sized mare, most of her body wasn’t fat. Her belly and backside did have a bit of fluff though; the rest of her was quite lean. She barely weighed thirty five pounds.

Her eyes turn to pin pricks, this was the first time she had ever been picked up. You quickly turn her so that she is facing you.

“Put me down, I’m too fat!”

She kicks the air aimlessly, until you press her again your bear chest. She calms down a bit as you secure her in your arms.

“Put me down, I’m too fat.” She repeats weakly, this time she spoke like a child who wanted a cookie, but not in a whiny way.

You feel her teats pressing against your midriff; the warm milky substance was now starting to dribble down to the border of your boxers. You haven’t even noticed that, you are a nice guy at heart. Your sole aim was to help her to her room. You had one hand petting her back to keep her comfortable while you carried her.

The other however was firmly planted on the sweet fluffy blue ass of hers. Your inner mind was now etching every single detail into your mind for later use. Pinkie Pie was going to be gone for almost a week. A guy can fantasize; Pinkie does, although she is a little bit more open about it than you.

You still want to punch whoever this ‘Shining Armor’ guy is.

“You’re really light,” you say. That was really true.

“You're just saying that to make me feel better…” she replies back, mildly hurt.

You carry her to her bedroom, she protested that you put her down several times but you refuse by just ignoring her. Then you saw the finish line, her bed. It was completely black with a silk comforter and pillow set.

This was a new set; she made you burn her old set.

“You can put me down now, we're here.” She informed, although her voice was now reluctant. She liked being carried, or it may have been being held by another.

You didn’t want put to her down, you like the feel of her ass pressed against your figure tips. A wry smile grew on your face. You give her butt a firm hard squeeze.

She lets out a cute high pitched squeak.

“You did say I could touch…” you inform before she asked the obvious question.

She let out a soft sigh as she pushes your shoulder slightly.

“So that’s the real reason why you carried me to my room.” She giggled.

“Well I can’t say it wasn’t a bonus.” You say honestly. “All in all I give it an 8.9/10.”

“I’m guessing that’s not a bad score.” She gave you a playful smile.

You ease her onto the bed, taking great care now to avoid causing her undue strain. You didn’t want to make a comment on her nearly soaking your underwear in her juices. It was a natural part of life, nothing to be too bashful about.

She looks at you expectantly, almost wanting. You have been in her room countless times before. Errands and cleaning and such, you even folded her personals when it was your turn for laundry day.

You didn’t take notice, although she did get full view of a thick indention of your boxers.

“Well I’m going to let you get some sleep; we have a big day tomorrow.”

She looks a little hurt but gives you a reassuring nod. It was really a big day, Pinkie Pie would be gone and the whole wedding order was left up to just you and Mr. & Mrs. Cake. Even though you know you will be playing gopher, you were only left in charge for small orders.

You drape her comforter over its owner. Your hands pat down the air bubbles caught under the blanket. For you benefit, you ease the edges of the black blanket to tuck her in. Getting one last feel of her ass before you take your leave.

“What, no bedtime story?” she jokes.

“Maybe tomorrow,” You reply. With that you turn to leave and finally head to your room. You do a quick peek on the little foals, both were still sound asleep.

You crack open the door to your bed chambers, a begrudging sigh leaves your lips.

Pinkie Pie was taking up the whole bed, again.

Sticky and sweet, it might as well have been your new title. Your face was covered in powdered sugar and your hands had every possible sweetener on it. Still, you work diligently to finish the cream puffs. They were the easiest thing on the menu to make but it still took your full concentration to make sure the crust didn’t burn.

Your morning didn’t go as well as you would have liked. Pinkie Pie had to leave early to catch her train. You really wanted to spend a little quality time with her in the morning. Her morning was spent packing because she didn’t prepare before. You helped her pack to try to make some snuggle time. Alas, after she went and played with the twins.

You couldn’t be mad at her. You have gotten some every single day for eight months. You're man enough to go a few days without a little tender tickle time, you would just make her pay three times over when she got back.

Not to mention Pumpkin decided that she should show just how much she loved you, by peeing on your favorite shirt. All was forgiven though when she called you daddy, even called Pinkie mommy. It always touches you right in the feelings.

You wouldn’t say that your morning wasn’t that bad. Cup Cake made you and Pinkie a huge breakfast; she seemed to be in higher spirits from that evening. She even complimented the way you looked in your new white t-shirt.

You had rolled your eyes for the thousandth time that day. As the annoying ringing Carrot Cakes voice rang in your poor ears. He wasn't screaming or shouting he was doing something far, far worse, boasting.

“…it was like candy, her mane smelled liked sugar. Did I tell how she—“

“How she was in the sack.” You recited from memory. “From the way she blew your balls to when she use an anti-gravity spell to have sex on the ceiling. Not to mention the blowjob wereyou felt like she sucked out your soul. This would be the third time today you told me.”

“Oh,” he said mildly hurt. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” You lean in. “if I ever bagged an alicorn I would want to brag about it too.” You said, you wouldn’t brag, you would take photos and write a book, and then make an erotic television series.

But you wouldn’t brag.

You finish the cream puffs and put in the next batch into the oven. These ones though are special, made with a special crème that you had prepared that morning in secret. It was a lover’s crème puffs, they were made special. Tiny wells on the top of the puff would cup the juices and mix with a special blend of milk and sugar.

Basically you’re making cum puffs that don’t taste like crap.

Although you don’t want Carrot Cake to find out you're making a erotic treat while you supposed to be make wedding treats. You put it on super low heat, making sure none of the crème start to ferment inside the pastry.

“I’m going to go start on the ginger snaps.” You say.

“Good luck.” He waves a dismissing hoof.

He always said that when you had to go made hard candies. It wasn’t all that hard making them. They aren't your forte at making them but you still tried your best. Moreover the reason why he wished you good luck was because I had to work on the side of the kitchen that had his wife.

To say there was bad blood between them would have been an understatement. Carrot Cake was in the wrong but in his mind he didn’t do anything and Cup Cake was wrong because she did not understand.

Well, in your opinion you didn’t care much, but after the event of the nights before you were now leaning in favor of Cup Cake. She had a really soft ass. You have a very biased opinion.

“Evening Cup Cake.” You say as you past the thick bi-paneled doors.

Her ears whipped up as she looked at the doors. Like a dog greeting his master at the door she nearly skipped to your side, her tail batting back and forth.

“Oh hello sweetie, did you get done with those crème puffs already?”

You nod.

“Good. I will have you back here for the rest of the day helping me make the hard candies. I am running a little behind schedule.”

You raise a brow, curious; she had never been behind before. Normally she would be far ahead. She hated being anywhere near Carrot nowadays. Normally she would finish and leave upstairs to take care of the twins. She inches closer to you, you didn’t notice before but she is wearing a delicate perfume.

You take a small examination of the kitchen; it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Pots and pans were covered in sugar and the cupcake tins were soaking in the sink. You feel a little bad that she had to be left up to the hardest part of the order.

The counter was completely covered in powdered sugar. She must had been up far before you did to get all this done. Yet she still had time to make you and Pinkie breakfast.

Inspiration is what it was; you could only stand in amazement at sheer amount that had been accomplished. You flex your right arm and pound your bicep hard with your left hand.

“Right, so let’s get started on those ginger snaps.”

“They’re already done sweetie.”

“Oh.” You say slightly crestfallen, “well then how about the toffees?”

“Done.”

“Granny Greens?”

“Done.”

“Lemon Pops?”

“Done.”

“Sour Doodles?”

“Done.”

“Rainbow Cakes?”

“Done.” She finishes with a singing voice.

Your mouth drops a little; it was amazing just how much she had really done.

“What is left to do, I thought you said you were behind?”

She lightly bumps your side with her hip. Right where your hand was, you slightly regret moving it. She bumps you again like you’re supposed to say something.

“Well…” she paused for a moment “we do have a lot to do. This room is a mess and we need to clean.”

You throw your head back and sigh, you hated cleaning. This wasn’t just any cleaning either, most of it was dishes and utensils. It was by far the worst part of the job and all of it was super time consuming.

Cup Cake goes in front of you, “Don’t worry, with two of us it shouldn’t take any time at all, it will be fun.” You feel her pudgy bottom grind along the length of your crotch as she said the word ‘fun’.

Now you start to take notice of her ass. It may have been a trick of the light but you would put your last dollar that she is swaying it just a bit too much. Not that you can complain, it’s almost hypnotic, almost.

She catches you staring, and chuckles to herself. “Don’t worry; I don’t care if you look.”

Well since you got the go ahead. Not like you weren’t going to look anyway, just that wasn’t on your mind at that moment.

Now it was.

An hour and thirty four minutes had passed by since you two started to clean. Still there was no end in sight. Since then in some way shape or form, hand being the most prevalent. You have touched her fluffy posterior thirty five times. In every instance it was she bumping into you.

Now you may have not been the sharpest tool in the shed, but even you were able to pick up on it. It was becoming quite obvious.

Her tail brushes across your back as she crossed behind you. You were standing in front of a large basin filled with dishes.

“Are you feeling well?” you ask.

She stops and turns and gives you a puzzled look.

“I’m perfectly fine sweetie, never been better.”

You set the sponge down that you were using and turn to face her.

“Well, I don’t want to sound like a pervert or nothing but I notice that you been walking a little funny. You know with more sway in your hips.”

“Really?” she said moving closer to you. “You must have been look an awful long time to notice that.” Her voice was light, almost erotic.

You scratch your neck, “Well yah, after last night it’s been on my mind a lot.” You say honestly.

Cup Cake closed the gap in between you two, a seductive smirk on her face. “Really now, what do you think we should do about that?”

“Well…” you pause for a moment, “if you want to…”

“Oh I do.”

“I can milk you.”

She blinked, “What?”

“Well believe it or not I know a thing or two when it comes to build up in ‘pressure’.” You say the last word with special emphasis. “I know a thing or two about milking so if you want I can milk you, I know its personal and embarrassing.”

You look down at her engorged tits; they had grown a whole cup size overnight. Even now the soft pink nipples were just mere inches from touching the floor.

She shakes her head; it is almost like she is trying to hold something in but you can’t make out what. After a minute though she regains her composure.

“I would like that very much, my girls need attention. So how about we do it now, they are really starting to hurt.”

You open your mouth and close it again. You were thinking later, not right at that very moment. The two of you stand there for a moment, you with your hands against the countertop, Cup Cake frozen in place, looking at you waiting for your answer.

“Sure,” you say.

She looked at the door that separated the kitchens. Even now Carrot Cake was on the other side preparing the multi-layer wedding cake. She nods for you to follow her. Although your trip didn’t go far, just across the room, she sat on the counter nonchalantly; even now you still look at her ass.

You took a stool that sat lower than the counter so you could easily work. There was no pails but a large soup pot was in arms reach and it seemed to be as good as thing as any to collect the velvety liquid.

Cup Cake doesn’t move, her legs are crossed and her hooves are covering most of her torso.

You give her a questioning look; you couldn’t start if you can’t even see what you’re supposed to be working with. She notices your glare and sighs; slowly she looks away from your gaze off to the left as if she is trying to focus in on something.

Her front set propped her up as she leaned back on the counter. Her tiny belly now popped out a little. Last were her hind legs, which she parted easily, revealing the two swollen mammaries.

You’re not looking at any of that, your eyes are not straight focused on her marehood as you heard others call it. You were accustomed to pussy, but they call it marehood here. So you figure ‘When in Rome’.

You try not to look at the soft welcoming entrance; it was slightly larger than Pinkie’s. Even the pink flesh under looked different. Or it may have been a trick of the light, but you didn’t care.

The semi in your pants always gave a better convincing argument.

“Don’t look at my fat…” she says her face turning scarlet.

You nearly deadpan, she was completely exposed and all she was worrying about is the tiny bit of belly pudge. Well you want to be a gentleman and honor her wishes.

“I promise I won’t look at your belly.”

She smiles and spreads her legs wider for you to begin, giving you a even better view. You glide your hands over one of the swollen tits. They had not seen any attention in a while. From the base, you lightly squeeze with your pointer finger and thumb.

And was rewarded with a blast of milk in your eye.

Cup Cake suppresses a giggle, “Sorry.” She whispers.

Now you remember to take aim, pressing from the base again you send a small burst of the creamy goodness.

She shudders. Each innocent burst that left her body was a small welcomed miracle. Even she didn’t know how bad she needed to be drained. This was different though, the way you worked over her glands. It was warmer, more sensual.

It was your hands, something no pony had. The warm feeling against her nerves as she release sent shivers down her spine.

“Can… you… rub my tummy?”

You were just getting into the swing of things, but you wanted to make her feel comfortable. You didn’t give her a response you just followed her request. You took you left hand and placed it on her belly. Although you did find it kind of cute that she referred to it as her tummy.

She let out a nearly inaudible moan as you caressed her fur. Even at close proximity it strained your ears to hear it. You place your full palm on her, all your digits now making small circles as you lightly massage her.

Finally after five minutes you finally drain one completely. You only stopped for half a second before you were about to switch over to the other swollen teat.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Cup Cake whined. “I need this bad.”

You started on the other after hearing her request. Her body started to sway as you stroked her free of her juices. Each drop caused her to quiver as it left her body.

“Call me a good filly.”

“What?” you question as you slow down.

“Don’t stop, call me a good filly.” She repeated, her breath barely registered as a whisper.

Now sometimes you were a bit slow on the uptake. Sometimes you did miss the occasional joke where the punch line was totally obvious. This time it finally clicked as you were stroking her belly. The tender little hairs followed your design as you traced away shapes into her fur.

You didn’t have proof of it, although you were suspicious. If you were wrong it would change your relationship. If you were right it would still change it. You were at an impasse. So you did what you normally do in a situation where you couldn’t choose.

You asked the all-knowing one, your cock.

[…]

He says to do it.

He always gives the best advice.

“So what makes you a good filly, have you been behaving?” you question. You continue your strokes evenly, still working on the swollen teat. She shakes with every in-stroke after the first, and you’re delighted when you hear her breathing pick up as well, breaking her relatively stoic demeanor with at least a hint of indulgence.

“Mmhmm.” She whimpers, “I’ve been a very good filly.”

You can’t help but get a little more into it than seems reasonable, you stroke her belly faster. Taking long strokes with your fingertips down the length of her, but stop right above her clit.

“Don’t,” she says, and you’re unsure if it’s a real protest “stop.” she manages again, stuttering a bit as you keep up your work. Her hips start to grind in place as her marehood started to pool precum on the wooden counter. The small slapping noise of her grinding against the counter was the only noise she was making.

“Good little filly,” you say with a smirk.

She tilts her head back and bites down on her lower lip trying not to let out a single sound. Her breathing became more rampant. You gentle massage her nipple with your pointer finger and thumb. The last little bit of milk finally escapes.

She was nearing, her eyes were clamped shut and her teeth were clenched shut. All you were doing now was rubbing her belly. There are more exciting things to be doing with them.

Her pussy did look inviting, and it was right there.

Err…. Marehood.

You were always curious, did she taste like cupcakes? You have to move before she can react, so you do just that. In an instant, your one hand is gone from her stomach and moved further down, snaking its way along her belly and in-between her legs.

You can see the hesitation in the look she gives you as she turns her head around.

With your middle and pointer finger you split her tender pink flesh. Leaning in you give the tip of her clit a tiny lick.

It was going to be a start but ended as a finisher.

Her hind legs wobble and flail midair but strike their mark as they wrap around your neck. Her swollen wet mound was now hard pressed against your neck. The tender flesh now got what it sought, release. Her tender groin muscle tightened hard around your neck as she hit her climax. You let her ride it out, she gave you one or two small thrusts before slowing as she comes down.

When she does, she’s panting, and her legs are wobbling right in front of your eyes. Her hind legs are wiggling, and she’s barely managing to hold their grip to your body. Your front is slick and shiny with her cum and the sudden slight increase of arousing fluid brought on by Cup Cake’s climax.

Heat you think it was, but you weren’t sure. Your nose can’t pick it up so you don’t know.

“Was I a good little filly?” she asks with pure innocence in her voice.

You wanted to say yes, but you didn’t want this it end right there. No sir, your cock was trying to beat his way out of your jeans. It wants its turn to show its skills. You never got a chance to say it though.

“Hey,” Carrot shouted, thankfully still behind the door. You now just realized why Cup Cake wasn’t making a single sound. “Are you done with those ginger snaps yet, I need your help with the base layer!” He sounded pissed off, you did not know why.

Slowly you lean down and set her on the floor, she stands for a moment and then her hind legs crumple. Her teats were completely drained, there were just tired is all. It was a mark of a job well done. Her eyes look at you almost pleading.

“Please don’t tell him.” She whispers.

You almost laugh, like you really were going to go gallivanting over and telling him how you just serviced his wife. Right, that was the top of your to-do list.

“No I’m not; I burned the batch and had to make a whole new one. I figure I’ll be down in two more hours or so, maybe more with cleaning.” You smirk at her; her mouth slightly drops at your implications. Although, you were friends with Mr. Cake, a small part of you did feel really guilty for what you just did, it wasn’t fair to him.

“God dammit,” Carrot shouts, “Where was Cup, she was supposed to be watching you!” he was really pissed.

You and Cup Cake both look at the door expecting it to be blown over by a fire breathing dragon. You rarely ever hear Carrot curse, let alone use a curse that you taught him.

“She was upstairs with the twins; she hasn’t been down here for about a hour or so.” You call out, giving her the perfect alibi.

“I bet forty bits that fat ass is up stairs eating again. She just was pushing all the work on us because she can’t fit through the damn doors!”

Your mouth nearly drops, he may never have talked about her ever, but he never deliberately insulted her either. Part of you wanted to defend her honor like a true hero, go off and bust him one in the jaw. You however were covered in her cum and heat, you needed priorities.

Then you looked down at her, tears were already starting to form at the sides of her eyes. Her front hooves were covering her belly and her tail was covering as much of her butt as possible.

So that’s why she is so sensitive about her pudge.

Well you didn’t feel guilty anymore.

“I’m going on break,” you shout. Reaching down you pet her pink mane, your fingers gliding down her back. You knew she would object if you did, but you didn’t really care. With a single arm you scoop her up.

She thrashed around; you tried to remind yourself that you wanted to cheer her up. Although having both cheeks of that fine fluffy flank of her pressing against your forearm was giving you ulterior motives.

“Put me down, this was a mistake, I’m fat.” She said as she tries to wiggle out of your arm.

You press your lips against hers, forcing a kiss that soon didn’t become forced but welcomed. Testing the waters your lick the border that was denying you access to her mouth. She licked back, although her tongue was flatter and wider than your and ‘forced’ its way in with one push.

You pull apart, a single string of saliva still connecting you and her.

“You’re not fat; your husband is just weak.”

Your words earn you a smile and a blush that covered her cheeks; she obviously wasn't used to compliments. Or she really liked hearing someone bad mouth her husband.

“Well, as of two weeks ago. We were officially separated. I don’t know if he still counts as my husband or not.”

You didn’t know either; legal issues were not your forte.

“So… do you want to take this upstairs?” she questions.

She didn’t need to ask you twice, it took you about five seconds to climb the stairs. Both of you pepper each other with tiny kisses. When you hit the top of the stairs, your jeans were already off. It had started to become really painful for your partner in crime.

Now you almost lost control as you grab a palm full of that pretty blue bottom of hers, each finger sinking in.

“So,” you asked with a raised brow. “What position and where? I think that wall should be due for a few coats of Cup Cake.”

She looks at you with a questioning gaze like you said something weird.

“What are you planning on doing; I thought we came up here for sex.” She said honestly.

“We did, haven’t you ever had sex against a wall?”

She looked away, “No… all Carrot Cake was good at was missionary and doggy style.”

You nearly deadpan, “Well what is the most erotic place you ever done it in?”

She looks at you and doesn’t answer. Her eyes look like they're trying to tell you something but you just can’t catch what she is trying to say.

“Well? Is it that embarrassing? It wasn’t Pinkie Pie’s bed is it?”

“No… it was downstairs on the kitchen counter… about ten minutes ago. I only ever had done it on a bed.”

You think on the matter for a second.

“So wait, you only ever done missionary and doggy style on your bed, that’s it?”

“I was milked on a kitchen counter.” She quickly added.

You were at a loss for words; you don’t want to lie to yourself. You wanted to do her doggy style. It was your favorite position, easy to do, and almost guaranteed to get her off. With the news in hand however, that now dropped to the very bottom of the list.

There is no way Pinkie Pie knew about her sex life, she would be more disappointed than you are right now. A married couple for seven years never explored anything. You did Pinkie in four positions your first night.

You set her down on the table, thanks to Pinkie your gallery of positions now far exceeded your partners. You didn’t know what to do; you wanted to start things off slow. Some things you learned would scare her off.

The bed was out of the question, you didn’t want to go do thing she been at before. The options were infinite.

You snap your fingers as a brief moment of clarity washes over you, one that would give her a small confidence boost and make her cum like a kitten. Well it really wasn’t that great of a idea, just a previous idea with a location change.

It would make her smile though.

“Sorry I don’t know much…” Cup Cake said slightly hurt about the length of time you had to think.

You didn’t say anything as you stared her down, it was like an old west movie where you each faced each other like men. Now was the time to draw your weapon.

He had been waiting long enough.

With a motion as quick as pulling away a painful band-aid, you take off your boxers and throw them back to the pile that contains your jeans.

She eyes your mastiff, paying attention to the large swollen head that was lightly bobbing midair. Seven and ¾ inches (you measured) of hard cock that was practically staring her in the face.

She eyes over the piece of alien material that was almost begging to be swallowed up.

“It’s smaller than I thought it would be,” she says.

Well if that wasn’t a kick right in the pride you don’t know what would have been. May be small compared to a damn horse but on earth you were known to be well endowed. You never had a complaint, not even from Pinkie Pie.

“Hold still.” You say as you open your arms, in an instant, both your hands are on her, one buttcheek in each palm; one handful of squishy, slappable ass between both sets of fingers. You only wait a second to feel how warm they are before you lift her into the air again.

Like a frightened filly she latches her front hooves around your neck “Hey!” Cup Cake turns her head over her shoulder as she feels your fingers sink into her skin. “Put me down, I’m too big!”

Although her protest fade away into memory as the warm shaft presses against her belly. You were aiming for her swollen puffy pussy but the height difference was hard to calculate. Your aim was less than accurate.

Although it was like you switched on a light, as your cock rubbed against her belly.

“You’re going to rub my tummy right?” she said with a squeak.

Her demeanor changed again, you swear that her eyes deepened to deep pools of want. A soft moan escapes her lips. “I’m a good little filly; you should rub my tummy more.”

Well even the best laid plans fail, so much for the idea of fucking her midair. With both of your hands firmly planted on her ass. Even now your fingers threaten to pull apart her tiny rosebud. Cock belly rubs was new, but neither of you could get off at this rate.

You take a few steps back and fall on the couch that was sitting in the living room across from the television. You shudder a bit as she falls forward, her wet mount now sitting firmly on your shaft. Her soaking wetness now started to stream down and cover your balls.

“I’m a good little filly, I get a treat, right?”

Her voice was almost completely different; almost twenty decibels higher, she really did sound like a little filly.

You lift her up; it was like a small shower as drop after drop of precum fell onto the shaft and ridge of your cock. You grab the thick mastiff and glide it down her ‘tummy’ and past her breasts. She giggles but is stopped by a full body shiver as it reaches her clit.

“Good little fillies get treats, are you a good little filly?” you ask.

Cup Cake shakes her head up and down with more enthusiasm than you thought she was capable of at the moment.

“I’ve been a very good little filly; can I have a treat, please?”

Well since she asked so nicely.

To your own surprise, you’re quivering the way you expected Cup Cake might be when you press the tip of your cock against her hole. You steel yourself and grit your teeth as you push forward, slowly, and carefully.

“Hmmm.” She cooed.

She pushes herself down, and you grit your teeth as both of you let out a groan that filled the room.

“You feel bigger than you look,” she says, swiveling her hips from side to side as she tries to grind down on your pole. “This is my treat right for being a good little filly?”

You didn’t answer, the whole reason why you sat down on the couch was to fulfill her personal request. You start to rub her tummy with a hree hand while the other still was firmly planted on her ass.

The tightness of her pussy is mind-blowing, four months without sex really tightens the grip. Her pink velvety walls clung to your cock as it tried to absorb every inch of it. She wasn’t sure if it was your natural state or simply the fact that her loins were hyper-sensitized fresh off her first orgasm, but the touch of your shaft felt incredibly hot; more so than your lips, more than your tongue, even. It wasn’t a burning heat, and in fact it remained a very welcome, soothing and satisfying heat, but it was definitely hotter than anything she’d ever imagined being in contact with her nether-regions.

She squirmed and moaned softly at every stroke, at every slow brush of your member across her copiously wet slit. You kept this up for a while, longer than Cup Cake would have expected you to have the patience for, and she very nearly started to lose herself.

“I’m a good filly.” She repeated. “I’m not too heavy am I?”

You didn’t want to answer, if anything she was far too light for your preference but she wouldn’t believe you if you told her. The warm slick sheen she was leaving on your cock was well enough an indicator that you’re doing a good job.

You didn’t even have to use your trump cards.

You could tell from the way her hips were starting to spasm she was nearing, you didn’t want this to end. This was your first time with a normal pony, Pinkie Pie was never normal in the sack. It wasn’t a bad thing at all.

You don’t slam inside, but you do move in one, long, continuous, hard thrust. And you lower your middle and ring finger right above her tight rosebud, “Do you want a special treat?”

“Mmhmm.” She whines.

You wait for the right moment as you continue to pump inside slowly, giving her enough to ride but not enough to cum. You lube your fingers in her precum.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd now.

You slam the whole shaft deep into the recesses of her wanting pussy causing a loud slap sound to echo throughout the house. That was drowned out by her scream of delight as your middle and ring finger drilled themselves into her tight ass, sliding in with ease.

“Aaaah!”

Cup Cake’s moan comes out like a flood from a burst damn, and you feel her whole body shake as you bury yourself inside her. You don’t give her time to recover before you pull out and push forward again fingers in again widening the tight hole. She starts panting and moaning together, and shuts her eyes as her body shakes with the sudden onset pleasure of your dual attentions.

Now she plants both her hooves firmly on your chest, she was starting to grow impatient. You all but stopped your moment as she was riding your cock. It was like your dick broke her metaphorical shell, she wasn’t holding back anymore.

She wanted it, bad.

She screamed your name several times “Oh, my, god, you so Ahhh!” You assume she meant ‘you're’ but you could feel yourself beginning to build.

“I’m going…” she never finishes. She loses her words into a high-pitched moan echoes through the whole store. You let her ride it out, she whipped her body back and screams. It was ear shattering.

The rush of fluids was intermiscible, four months of built up pressure now washed over your face and chest. She never told you she was a squirter. You lick your lips and enjoy the flavor of her cum. Pinkie Pie was also a squirter, this was nothing new.

Both of you look at each other, a smile was the only thing you were wearing.

She however looked sad, unsatisfied, which you knew was not the case. You were covered in her juices.

“You said I would get a treat, I was a good little filly, were my tweat?” she said like a wanting filly asking for a cone.

Now you were still hung, mental process was not what was going through your mind. You wanted her to get right back on and fuck your dick. This was not a free ride; you wanted to get off too. You were just moments away from cuming with her.

Then she made it painfully clear. She eased off of you; your dick is slick and shiny with your own precum mixed with the torrent she just sprayed you with.

Cup Cake went to eye level with your cock, you were still breathing heavily. She looked at you straight in the face, her huge pink irises nearly begged for attention. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, and slid the entirety of your cock in her mouth.

Your eyes went crossed for a moment as the rush washed over you. You wanted her to stop, you didn’t tell her.

She had a really wide tongue and the way she was cleaning your shaft of her cum sent a dirty little pleasure in your mind. You could only see her curly pink mane bobbing up and down. She was really good at it, almost on par with Pinkie.

You could feel the twitch, you were sure she could feel it as well, she increased her speed. It was coming fast, your balls clenched as the hot seed now started to work its way out.

“Sorry.” You say fast as you grab the back of her mane and force your cock into her throat. Firing the first spray of your cum deep in her. Her eyes shrunk to pins as the first batch of the seed made its way in. Cup Cake loved to swallow, but she wasn’t prepared for this.

You could see it sliding down her throat like a large pill; you could only imagine what she was thinking when a shot of cum weighing almost fifteen pounds shot down her throat.

The next four waves of your hot seed were more welcomed, she did say she wanted a treat.

She fell back on the floor breathing hard; she was smiling from ear to ear. Her cum still pouring on wooden floor.

“I… can, still feel, you inside me.” She said through breaths. She rubbed her belly, obviously talking about her treat.

You were kind of amazed, it took Pinkie Pie two times to get used to it. She did it in one go.

“Yah and you will for the four hours or so.” You did not know the facts very well, only from accounts of what Pinkie said to you.

[…]

“What the fuck is going on here!” Carrot Cake yelled.

Both looked at the enraged stallion. Cup Cake tried to get up but she was literally being weighed down by your load.

You blink several times, “Well… I fucked your wife.”

You always did believe honesty was the best policy.

Author's Notes:

Special thanks to those who like it and upvote!
A very special thanks to those who downvote and tell me why you didn't like it.

Would you like to listen? Enjoy the delightful pod-cast of Chapter one: Creaming Mrs. Cake *** Please Note that I has since edited this to the best of my abilities, most errors caught have been changed.*** By: MongolianFoodHoarder