=====================================================================

-Part 12: Pregnant Rarity, Fingering, Light Foursome, Lactation / Breast Feeding, Hand Play, Food play and Stuffing, Oral Sex, Heavy Romance / Plot Progression, Light Exhibitionism

=====================================================================

When you hurry into your bedroom Rarity’s reading a book, glasses on. She glances up at you as you walk in and set the bag on the bed next to her. You hand her off the milkshake as you move back to the door to your room and close it as quickly as possible. Just past the doorway you can hear Twilight’s voice, raised. The words are incomprehensible, and you’re curious, but Rarity doesn’t need to get involved. When you turn around she’s already gotten out of bed, surprisingly quickly and quietly, and is creeping over to you.
“Are they... are they fighting down there?”
What gave her that idea?
“Twilight came in not so long ago asking where Dash was, and she seemed rather upset. And now you’re closing the door. I can put the two together.”
You swallow. You were afraid Dash might be in trouble. Did Twilight say what was on her mind?
“No... But intuition tells me Dash going missing was the heart of it.”
You sigh. When has her intuition ever been right about Twilight and Dash? Their relationship is just different from what you’re used to. It’s not anyone’s fault you can’t understand where they’re coming from.
“That’s the talk of someone who just did something wrong. And my intuition is always right, so you’d best tell me what you’ve done.”

You bite your lip. She’s not always right, but you don’t bother correcting her and motion to the bag on the bed. She should eat her food, you’ve gone a long way in the rain to get it.
“Oh dear me, you did, you’re right. So why don’t you tell me what you’ve done while I eat my snack then?”
You haven’t done anything.

“Of course, of course. It’s just that you look nervous.”
You realize you’ve been glancing at the door and snap your eyes back to her. Nervous? No, just tired.
“I can believe that. Why don’t you come over here? Curl up next to me while I eat this delicious food you’ve brought me. You can rub my tummy and explain what it is you’ve done.”
You haven’t done anything.
“Oh... Yes, I keep forgetting. It’s just-”
There’s a slam of a door from downstairs, and you resist the urge to run to the window to see who’s leaving the boutique.

“It’s not Dash. Hear the hoofbeats? Dash would be flying.”
You disagree and move over to the window. Sure enough, Dash is running off into the rainy night and out of sight into the darker streets of ponyville. You sigh and turn around to exit the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
You need to go tell Twilight that...
“That you’ve done something?”
You wheel around on her and she moves in just as you raise up to shout at her.
You haven’t done anything.
She doesn’t budge an inch backward as you round on her; but her eyebrows lower, her ears perk up, and she steps closer. You move a step back, surprised at her boldness.
“Of course you haven’t. But you feel angry enough to shout at me, and you need to go explain the situation to Twilight. So you can at least explain it to me first.”
You sigh and lean against the wall, arms folded.
“Don’t take that posture with me.”
You hold your hands out at your sides incredulously. It’s a crime to stand now?
“You know what I mean. That closed off stance. You’ve nothing to be afraid of here, so come sit down. I’ve got a burger to eat you know.”
With a roll of your eyes you flop onto your bed, ready to redirect the conversation.
Why does she have to be so involved, so nosey, so constantly putting herself into trouble? She’s so notoriously hard to protect. She hurt herself being too generous with her body earlier. You can’t keep protecting her from herself.
“Is that what I asked about?”
No, but it’s all true.
Beside you, she snorts and sets her burger down on her nightstand still in its wrapper.
“For your information, anything vital is perfectly fine. It’s the other... spot... that’s sore, and tender. You didn’t bother to stretch, didn’t bother to do anything but lube it up and shove it in. Was that protecting?”
Stretch her with what? She took both of your hands.
“I don’t know... you had two other ponies with you. They’re capable mares.”
Twilight and Dash? You don’t want them widening your wife’s ass.
“You’re so jealous and protective of me that you’d hurt me? Does that make sense?”
How. How in Equestria is her hurt rear your fault? She’s the one who demanded excess, let the moment get the best of her, demanded the maximum you could give, all at once.
“I’m not saying it’s not my fault. I’m saying it’s yours too.”
You snort. That’s just not true.
When you turn back she’s completely in your vision. Once more she’s deceptively quiet for a pony of her bulk, and she glares into your eyes. The glare softens and her ears raise as she nuzzles your face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, alright? Getting hurt was... was largely my fault.”
You nod and force the tension in your throat to dissipate by clearing it. It was partly your fault too. You’re sorry she got hurt, you promised to look out for her, you knew the risks.
“There. That’s settled then, right? Do you really think I’m impossible to look after? I don’t always need looking after you know.”
You nod, limbs growing suddenly tired as the last of the tension escapes you.
“Now then.”
She picks up her veggie burger and takes several enormous bites in silence before finally setting it aside with a moan and rubbing her tummy. You return eye contact to where she’s rubbing and rest a hand on it. Is she alright?
“I’m fine... it’s just... it’s so good.”
You nod and grin. She should keep going. You got her a second one.
“I saw that. You think I’ll eat it?”
You had considered it. You knew she’d want it.
“My perfect romantic man. Knows me so well. I’m sure you hedged your bets, of course. Could you eat it if I didn’t?”
You look away. Probably, but she should eat it. She has a growing foal in her.
“Yes... yes I do. But I’m not worried about the foal growing right now.”
You look up from her stomach to where she’s playing with her hair.
“I’ve been thinking you’ve been far too capable when it comes to lifting me. Perhaps it’s time I picked up the pace. I’ll lose a lot of this weight any time, you know.”
You tilt your head, waiting to hear what comes next.
“I mean... maybe next time two might not be enough. Just keep that in mind.”
You laugh and kiss her cheek.
“Now then, let’s finish this one up while you tell me what you’ve done.”
You haven’t-
You roll your eyes, defeated. She’s not going to let you sleep without knowing is she?
“No. No I don’t think I shall. You can have two options. Tell me, and snuggle up to this.”
She smacks her side, sending ripples throughout her flanks, down to her haunches sunken oh-so-deep in the bed, up and across her belly.
“Don’t tell me, and you can find out if the couch cushions are as comfortable”
You laugh. Would she really be that cliche?
“No... No, I rather think I would let you cuddle either way. But only one route is going to let me sleep easily, and that’s the honest truth.”
You nod and curl up next to her, gently rubbing in circles around the apex of her stomach as your story unfolds. At various points she slips in the appropriate “Hmm” or “Ah”, but she remains largely silent until the story of your walk with Rainbow Dash concludes on your rainy doorstep, confronted by Twilight and being told to leave them to their talk. When you’re finished she continues to chew, getting halfway through her second burger, eyebrows knitted. At last she sets it aside, drinks deeply from her milkshake, and clears her throat.
“Well... I’m quite shocked. You’ve left no details out?”
No, none. You admit to being surprised that Dash and Twilight are both so serious about each other also.
“Oh no, I rather knew that. They’re crazy about one another, but they need to talk more. Tonight’s a good example, isn’t it? But no, I was thinking more about you. You, of all the creatures under the sun, moon, and stars to council a pony into marriage. You, of anyone, listening as someone opens up and helping them figure out what they already knew.”
Already knew? So she doesn’t think you screwed up?
“Dash didn’t just invent the idea of marrying Twilight Sparkle tonight. She’d not talk to you about something so serious right away if she hadn’t thought heavily of it. Honestly, it’s a miracle you know enough about the mentality of mares to have gotten married yourself.”
You got lucky. You just married someone with low standards.
You earn a swat of her tail in your face and a “hmph”.

“Honestly though, consider for a moment. Would you have brought up the idea of marrying me to anypony when you very first considered it?”
You did. You brought it up to her.
“There, that’s my- wait, what? That was the very first time you’d ever considered it? When you asked me what my thoughts were on getting married?”
You nod.
“I... oh forget it. The point is, Dash has more brains than you I suppose... and that’s a discouraging thought. She’s more careful too... Hmm... What does that say about-”
Enough playing about. Did you screw up or not?
She giggles and regards you out of the corner of her eye as she picks up her burger.
“Well, finish my thought for me while I eat this. Let’s see if you’re half the detective I am.”
If Dash hadn’t just thought of it tonight, then she was bouncing it off of you to see what others thought of a plan she already had?
Rarity nods sagely, caught in the middle of a huge bite. Her spare hoof makes circular motions that you assume prompt you to continue.
If Dash has been considering marriage, you also brought up the need to communicate more... and if she’s smart, she found out the hard way tonight that she needs to communicate more.
Rarity gulps to swallow.
“By the Princesses, he can be taught! Goodness darling, you haven’t harmed Dash and Twilight tonight. By sheer coincidence you’ve likely helped them.”
Right. Fine. If Rarity’s so smart, does she think Twilight and Dash will survive this?
“I’m not sure... I didn’t hear any of what went on down there. Dash must have been rather crushed to be running rather than flying. I don’t think there are words for depression of that degree. And we haven’t heard Twilight leave, which means she’s likely downstairs waiting for me to come talk to her about this. So we’ll find out if they survive it in time.”
One more question. Did you do the right thing telling Dash that Twilight felt as strongly as she did?
“Oh, I think so. Someone needs to move those mares forward, for better or worse. Again, they need to communicate their feelings more. This will hopefully provoke that. Imagine if you suddenly discovered something about me you didn’t expect.”
You shrug. You’ve learned a few things in just the last week alone.
“Yes, but were they as important as my being madly in love with you?”
She’s still madly in love? That’s cute.
“I- You’re not? Then I must be twice as mad.”
You chuckle and pull her closer to you. She laughs and tries to escape, rolling onto her side as your hands slap at her flanks and haunches.
“Nnnnhhh. You’re- No. I must... Must go help Twilight. Stop that spanking.”
You slap once more and her tail wraps around your arm.
“If you behave...”
You adjust her glasses. You’ll behave, but she has to wear them the next time you do it.
“You like them? I don’t really... I don’t really need them.”
Yes she does. She needs them more than she’d ever admit. Your thoughts drift back to catching her pleasuring herself two weeks ago with them on, moaning about wanting to keep them on. She’s self conscious of it.
“I am not. A lady is never self conscious about needs. I only need them for working and reading, that’s all I meant.”

Is that the case? Then it shouldn’t be a problem next time, right?
You grin and kiss her cheek before she rolls out of the bed and onto her hooves.
“I’ll be back to bed when I can be. Get comfortable.”
She needs to take her milkshake.
“Why? I’ll eat it when I get back.”
She can drink hers with Twilight’s drink.
“Twilight won’t be drinking her-hmmm. Perhaps she would. It’s a link to Dash... If she’s feeling guilty... Alright, it’s as good a conversation starter as any. You know, you’re better at this than I thought. Clever man.”
You smile. You have social skills, you’re just not as obvious about them.
“Is that the case? I can never tell when you’ve failed and when you’re simply choosing not to use them.”
You shrug. You’d never lie and try to say you don’t take most of your social cues from her.
“Good. That’s my greatest claim to fame you know. Your domestication is my crowning personal achievement.”
And with that parting quip she ducks out of the room before you can toss a pillow at her. It hits the door behind her giggling body and you hear her heavy footsteps thud up the hall and down the stairs as you sink into the sheets of your bed. The pillows left on your bed are bunched up. You pull them into the place she’d normally occupy and rest your head on it, clicking off the light and sinking into slumber.

You’re pushing your foal on a tire swing. You know it’s her. She has her mother’s hair. She’s laughing. She’s whole. The sun is setting, and Rarity’s sitting on the kitchen table watching. She laughs each time your foal does. The foal wants to jump, she wants daddy to catch her. But now she’s Rarity, far too big to be caught, and she’s hurtling toward you. You can’t drop her, she’s carrying your child. You rush under her and you’re hit directly. The breath is knocked out of you. The figure on you is snarling, ripping at your clothes, pulling and roaring a furious cry.
You kick it off as Rarity runs up, and it makes for her. As its murky figure rises you gulp and place yourself between it and her. She’s got your child in her womb. She needs to be protected. She’s shouting something you can’t hear as the creature rushes at you. Your bare hands claw for its eyes, you swing fists and push hard at it. Is it a pony? It kicks you with hooves. You stumble back and rejoin the fight as it beelines over and over for your wife.
Never in the wilds of Everfree was a more desperate battle joined between an unarmed creature bent on protecting its mate and a creature of such power, mass, and means as the one you fend off in those precious moments. Each thrust of your foot, each careful punch is a hard pressed defense designed only to keep it at bay. At last it tires of trying to make hopeless lines for Rarity and turns its lusty gaze upon you. You feel yourself shrink back as it tackles you, as it wraps its hooves around your throat and presses. The weight is too much to lift. You cry to Rarity to run. You beg her to leave. You wonder in your last moments why she doesn’t save you. Will she escape with your foal? The breath is crushed from your lungs and your mouth is covered. You try to pull at the hooves, but all sensation fades to black.
You snap awake to darkness equally deep and try to scream. You can’t. Your mouth is covered, your throat is tight, and your hands fly up and pull at a familiar texture. Your brain whirs and clicks, trying desperately to piece together your situation before you fade out of consciousness. Hair? You pull at it, and are rewarded with a yelp. The lights click on as you tear her tail away from where it’s wrapped around your throat and face. Your voice comes out sharp, angry, loud.
What the hell was she doing? She almost killed you!
In the light of the room your eyes adjust to her huddled sobbing mass. She says nothing, each time she opens her mouth to talk only gasps and sobs come out. At last she manages.
“Are you... are you alright? Oh please be alright.”
Yes, you’re alright. No thanks to her.
“W-what? No... you can’t be... you’re not... we’re...”
Alive?
“Yes... on dry... Ohhh no no no. What have I done? Your throat is... There are lines. Was I- Did I?”
In her sleep? You frown. Why would she start strangling you in her sleep?
“I was trying to save you. You were drowning, you great big idiot!”

You’re obviously more pieced together at this point. More alert. More awake. You can tell, because your brain catches onto what’s happening in record time.
Nightmares? She’s having nightmares too? Why didn’t she say anything? How long has it been happening?
“A nightmare... was it? We’re in bed... it must have- Oh good heavens, I need a... Hold me for a moment? Let me know you’re real.”
She pulls you into an embrace and you hold her as she sniffles and dries her eyes on your bare chest. Her nose leaves streaks of wetness the more she burrows into your arms, but you say nothing as she composes herself. Finally she talks from her safe haven against your body.
“You were dying. You were dying again. Always, it happens every time. I have to watch you from that stupid tree as you swim and sink and die. I’m so tired of it. I need you, I love you... Why are you such an idiot, every time?”
You’re not. You learned that lesson, remember? Has she been having these nightmares often?
“Y...yes. Yes, almost every night. I try not to think about it when I’m awake, and you were having so much trouble...”
Your mind pulls more pieces in and you venture a guess. Is this why she’s afraid of storms now?
“I can’t help it. It reminds m g everything each time I close my eyes.”
You look down and she’s looking desperately up at you, eyes shining with fresh tears, lip quivering. You smile encouragingly at her. You’re here, despite her best efforts tonight. You’d try to learn to fly before you swam off to leave her alone again. You get hooves slamming against your chest in response.
“Don’t you know how much it hurts to think of that? Don’t make fun. Don’t you dare make fun right now. What if I had been the one to leave you stranded while you had to watch me... watch me die in front of you?”
You bite your lip. You’ve apologized before. You’ve promised up and down, on summer and winter. What can you do to help her sleep easier? What can you do to help ease her mind?
“There’s nothing... Nothing.”
No, you won’t believe that. You wrap her tail around your hand and squeeze it affectionately. That should keep it occupied in the future, and she can know you’re here that way.
“That won’t be comfortable sleeping.”
It will be if you spoon yourself against her. She can go to sleep every night knowing it’s your body that’s here, safe with her.
“I don’t... we’ve slept that way before. It hasn’t helped.”
Not with purpose. If she’d said something, you’d have kissed her goodnight every night, and reminded her where you were.
“And where is that?”
In bed, right beside her. Where you’ll always be, if it’s up to you.
“Then we shall endeavor to make sure it’s always up to you. What time is it?”
You shoot a glance to the alarm clock on your nightstand. Not far past five in the morning.
“Gracious. We need our sleep. Tell me about your dream though.”
You shake your head. Talking about it never helps. You keep having them.
“Now that’s just not true. You’re nervous about being a father, it’ll subside. Tell me what it was about. You made me share.”
You sigh.
“Don’t give me that. Communication, that’s rule number one, right?”
You nod. Honesty is rule number two. It was a nightmare about protecting her. About... Well, shit.
“About what?”
About getting hurt protecting her.
“No, no. You’re not serious.”
You tell her how, in the dream, you’d fought to protect her, to keep the monster away and keep her safe.
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you were going to hide the fact that you’d jump into that water and leave me alone all over again if it meant you could play the hero and rescue your helpless wife.”
No. It was a stupid dream, alright? It has nothing to do with the water. She has nothing to be nervous about.
“I have everything to be nervous about. It has everything to do with that. You’re not committed to this idea yet.”
It was a dream. You can’t help what you dream about.
“Tell me honestly right now. If that... thing, whatever it was. Suppose it was a hydra. Would you full body tackle a hydra just to keep it away from me? I’ve faced down-”
You know. She’s told you all of her history. You know she’s a heroine in her own right, she’s bowled over dark gods and nightmares, fought manticores, matched wits with diamond dogs; but it doesn’t make you any less worried for her. She’s carrying everything precious to you bundled up in one single perfect figure.
“Don’t think flattery will get you past this. You’re stuck facing this, mister. You’ll work together with me next time. Alright? Stop just thinking you can save us both. We have to get past this or neither one of us will get a good night’s sleep.”
You roll your eyes. Dreams aren’t something you can decide to change the course of midstream. They’re not something you have any control over. You’d stand side by side with her if there was danger right now. And you finally confess to her your last moment, the only part of the dream that still lingers in vivid memory. The question of whether she left you to die.
“So part of you truly does expect us to work together? Are you lying?”
Would you lie?
“Sometimes. If it suited you, perhaps. You’re a thinking creature just like me. It’s an awfully convenient point in the conversation for you to remember that detail.”
No. This is the truth. She has to believe you.
“I do. I choose to. Poor dear. Your last moments were spent wondering if I abandoned you?”
You shrug. You know she wouldn’t.
“On some level, you must not be sure...”
You finally snap. They’re dreams. They’re stupid, they’re leftovers from the day. It was just the badpony dream, the wrestling with Dash and Twilight, the fact that you were actually physically being smothered.
“I... you know I didn’t mean to do that.”
You counter. Is she sure? She seems to think dreams mean something secret. Does she secretly want to kill you? She turns red and starts to whimper before sobbing.
“I-I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to want to kill you.”
She doesn’t want to kill you. You know she doesn’t.
“But I tried to!”
She was trying to save you.
“That’s... that’s true.”
You nod. She’s putting too much stock in these things.
“And you’re not putting in enough. You admitted yourself you’d still jump in without consulting me to protect me. Compromise with me. Dreams don’t have to mean nothing. They don’t mean everything, but they can help us learn... don’t withhold them from me, ever.”
You shrug. You weren’t the one withholding dreams.

“I... I know. And I’m sorry. It’s hard to see mistakes in yourself. Forgive me?”
You smile and nod. She’s already forgiven. But she’d better not expect you to ever share any dreams you have if other mares are involved. That’s an emotional minefield. She rolls her eyes in reply.
“I don’t want to know your wet dreams. But your dreams only have so much room, and I plan to be big enough to be the only pony capable of fitting in them. At any rate, I meant dreams that feel like they mean something other than ‘I’m going to wake up with an erection and give my wife all the attention she deserves, and think of only her while I do it, unless I want her to twist my arms behind my back and’-”
You cough and glance around the room. She follows your gaze until you finally lead her eyes down to the stiffness straining against your boxers.
“It’s so late... or early... I can’t believe you want to. Are you honestly so simple?”
You pull them down and sigh as the cool air of the room wraps itself around your rapidly swelling thickness. She eyes it for a moment before gently brushing a hoof across it.
“We need to finish this conversation. Stop side tracking me.”
You stare at the ceiling and put your hands behind your head, laying full on your back.
Can’t it be finished tomorrow? Can’t it be done now? You’ll share dreams. You’ll let her know you’re not going anywhere. You’ll try your best to trust her to see to her own protection if she’ll trust you to protect yourself.
As you finish, she straddles your lower body and fills your view, stomach spilling all the way up your chest and consuming your line of sight to her face.
“I suppose I can’t ask for much more than those things... at least not right now. Do you really want this so early? I’m rather tired. You’re going to have to do much of the lifting.”
That’s fine. It’ll help you sleep.
“Alright... I...”
She stifles a yawn.
“I’ll try my best. I’m not sure I’m wet enough.”
You nod. Is she really alright down there? Did she talk to Twilight?
“No... I didn’t. But I know my body. Don’t put it in the wrong hole and there shouldn’t be a problem. Trust me, would you?”
You nod. Alright, alright. You’ll trust her. You grip a handful of her side rolls and she squirms as she slowly rubs herself across your chest.
“Told you not to... Grab there... It’s embarrassing.”
You run your hands to her belly and let them sink, kneed, pull; all as gently as possible. She’s firm past the layer of fat. You can get your hand to sink completely into it up to that point, and she moans as you do it, but as your hands stray to her womanhood she whimpers a bit and draws back.
“It’s... it’s more sore than I thought. We shouldn’t. I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to tease... I swear it didn’t hurt until then.”
It’s alright. You’re just glad to know she can control herself well enough to call it quits. That means more than-
A tidal wave of pony interrupts as she flops onto you. Rather than go to any side, she’s just lowered herself straight forward, smothering your entire body. You squirm out from under her, easing her onto her side. She smiles as you manage it.
“You can... have my hooves if you’d like. Do you really want to take care of it?”
You grin and begin to stroke it yourself. She should do something sexy.
“But I’m so tired... My body is sore... I don’t want to get up.”
You laugh. How sexy can she be without getting up?
“Mmmm... I bet I can talk dirty with the best of the ladies.”
She rolls onto her back and sits up.
“Nnnnhhh... Wait... won’t you milk me?”
You moan and start to stroke yourself faster.
“Honestly, they’re just so swollen. It’s beginning to hurt. It’s been close to four hours. That’s past time. I’ll not make it to sunrise... They’re so full.”
This is going to go quickly. You’re already on the edge as you increase your pace. She just has to keep talking dirty.
“I could... I could fill bowls. Oh please milk me. Please?”
You bite your lip, trying to stifle the building orgasm.
“Really. Darling. It hurts, milk me.”
You feel your body tighten in anticipation, but now her voice isn’t pleading or sexy.
“Milk me. It hurts. It really hurts, please milk me.”
You stop. It’s not sexy if she keeps talking about pain.
“I’m not trying to be sexy... My body is full. It’s so full, and it’s only been four hours... I think something’s wrong... Can you milk me?”
Something wrong? You sit up and hurriedly scoop her up.
“Wh- go get a bowl. Where are you taking me?”
The bathroom. You can milk her easier there.
“I... I’ll walk. Don’t drop me!”
You hurry her into the bathroom and set her down, pulling aside the shower door as she climbs over the rim of the tub and into the bowl of it.
“Alright... It’s not how I want it, but... Alright.”
You start to milk. The process takes almost twenty minutes of pulling, pushing, squeezing, and compressing to relieve her. In the end almost a half liter of milk goes down the drain and she’s panting.
“Nnnnhhh. Let’s go to bed. I’m so terribly tired. I’m sorry, I really am. I feel awful. I can’t help with your-”
It’s not important. Sex isn’t important right now. You help her out of the tub and wash it out as she hurries back into the bedroom. When you rejoin her the lights are off and she’s curled up, shivering. You ask if she’s sick.
“No... I don’t think so.”
Is the baby alright?
“Foal’s alright, I think. I think I’d know if that was it.”
False labor?
“No, don’t be silly. That’s not it at all.”
Just tired perhaps?
“I think so. It’s been rather stressful, tonight. Sitting up to try to be sexy was just... too much. Everything had settled.”
You nod and smile, pulling her in and playing with her hair while spooning her in front of you. Her breathing finally begins to slow and you rub her shoulders. Under your gentle touch she sighs and moans.
“Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
You smile and nod. Whatever she says. As long as she gets her rest.
“I’m sorry. I’m not... not fragile.”

You know. This doesn’t change anything. But she can’t push herself so much.
“You shouldn’t either. Don’t leave me in my dreams tonight.”
You nod. You won’t. You’ll stay by her side until the rain stops.
She snuggles back more, the side of her face cupped gently in your draped arm, tail snugly wrapped around your forearm. Her words are slower, more broken up by yawns. Her shivering has long faded.
“The rain will stop. It stopped... I remember. It stopped eventually. You just have to hang on. I’ll help hold...”
She sighs contentedly and slumbers in your arms. At ease finally, you drift off next to her.

Morning light pulls you from your bed. You roll over to greet Rarity, and she stirs beside you.

“The time? What’s the time?”

You shrug before checking. Ten thirty. Time to get up. Sweetie Belle will be here later this afternoon. You need to get the guest bed made up again, and the room likely needs straightening. At your waist you feel hot breath. Your eyes wander down to where she’s already nuzzling your penis.

“I’m ahh... sorry about last night. Let me make it up to you?”

She shouldn’t. She’s still hurting, isn’t she?

“There’s only one way to find out. I dreamed something different last night you know.”

Sex? She had a sex dream?

“You should know better than to think a pregnant mare’s hormones won’t help... things... now then, what do I need to do to get this?”

Nothing. You both need to go do your morning chores, there’s no time.

“Nonsense. Just a little bit?”

She rubs at your manhood with her hooves and you feel it start to stiffen against your will. She crawls over onto your body, chubby legs and fat haunches spilling across you as she straddles you once more. You sigh.

“What? Am I not allowed to decide when we have sex?”

She decides all the time. That’s not a fair accusation at all.

“Fine. If you don’t want me, fine.”

She gets out of bed and hops into her bathrobe. You bite your lip, hormones finally surging. You’ll make time. You tell her to get back in bed.

“No... No, I don’t think I will. If you don’t want it when I want it, then there’s no point.”

That’s not true or fair. You can’t both be “on” at the same time.

“No, but it shouldn’t be that hard to get you interested.”

Hard? It took two minutes.

“No. Alright? I said no. You should know me better by now. I’m your wife, after all. Right now I’m hormonal, horny, and hungry. And I need a good milking again. They’re starting to ache. But I’ll do it myself. You do your... chores.”

And with that she storms out of the bedroom, leaving you wondering what just happened. After a few minutes pass you roll out of bed and pull on your jeans. Whatever she says. You grumble as you belt them and pull on a polo shirt - your best attempt to make yourself look presentable for her sister. Then you exit the room and make for the stairs.

Halfway down you can already hear her thrashing things about in the kitchen. You creep up to the door and crack it, spotting her in front of the fridge. She’s not bothering with plates or silverware, she’s just... sitting there. Eating in front of the fridge out of the Tupperware containers your leftovers have been saved in. Rather than pick the fight you know is coming, you ignore your growling stomach and make for the stairs. You can busy yourself with assembling a crib while the angry pony downstairs fills her empty stomach.

It’s the work of several moments to get all the assembly parts out of the box and onto the floor. You toss aside the directions, of course. They’re not necessary for something this simple. You pick up two of the parts and look at the box before locking them together and proceeding as best you can. Minutes pass and things go smoothly, and then you hear the door click. She shuffles in in her robe, stomach bulging it out in places, haunches not even covered by it anymore. When she sits, it’s a loud thud. She begins to levitate pieces of a mobile together, and silence owns the room as you both continue to assemble your various odds and ends.

Fixing up the baby’s room is something you really should have done before the due week, but it’s just been busy. You tell yourself that, but you know it’s not entirely true. You could have done it yesterday. Or the week before you went on your trip. Most of the recent events that ate up your time were either unavoidable or mandatory, but some could have been opportunities to do this. You bite your lip as you catch your thumb between two pieces and draw it back with a hiss.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It’s nothing. How’s the mobile coming along?

“Suns, moons, stars, the usual. I’d like to put a few gems on here, but it would feel so... expectant. I don’t want her to grow up thinking she has to be anything.”

You shrug. Isn’t the point of the cutie mark system entirely teleological? She’ll be happy if it works out.

“I... Yes and no. We’ve been over this. It’s not designed to make you do things. It’s meant to direct you to the things you already enjoy. It’s not like it’s decided for you.”

But that’s not true. Ponies names almost always match their talent in some strange way.

“Well, yes. Naming is important. You’re a prime example of that. The Princess said-”

You cut her off. You remember all too well the Princess’ warnings against giving just any pony your name. There’s no telling what magic might be associated with it. Still, you gave it to wife, and to the Princess.

“Does anyone else know it?”

No.

“Then there you have it. Still secret enough.”

You know all of this mish-mash about names, of course. You’ve known it since she started expecting, that you don’t pick out names for foals before they’re born.
“Both parents simultaneously name the foal what they imagine of their experience getting there, or of what the foal reminds them of at birth, or any number of things. There’s a magic to it.”
You know.
“It’s the reason some ponies have two names, and some have one. Both parents commonly say the same name, as in my own case... but there are differences. Just look at Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash.”
You know.
“Alright, I can take the hint. You don’t want to talk, fine.”
Silence covers the room back up for minutes as you finish your work on the crib and her mobile is assembled. Privately you’re eager to see what your daughter will be named. Rarity’s voice cuts the quiet of the room.
“Please don’t name her something silly.”
What? Hands McGee isn’t good enough?
You burst out laughing and she can’t keep glaring at you. She starts to laugh too.
“If you did... Oh my stars... You’re a fool, you know that?”
She should know by now. She married you.
“Yes, well. I expected the learning curve to be less sharp.”
You follow her eyes to the crib and realize you’ve assembled it upside down.
“Well, I hope her special talent is walking on ceilings. Didn’t you read the directions?”
Not important. It’s close enough, you just need to flip it over. Why do they even have that possibility?
“I don’t know. Pegasi need cages, perhaps? Here, let me help you.”
She shimmies out of her robe and you can’t help but stare as she bares her expansive ivory body. While it’s true that ponies are commonly naked, the act of disrobing is still... somehow strangely enticing.
You tell her to take it off slower and she pauses, pulling it back up around her.
“I... like this? You mean like this?”
You nod as she slowly reveals every inch of her immensely pregnant body, ending as she drops it over her haunches. She pouts and flips her hair as she looks back at it.
“Oh my... it seems to be... stuck.”
You reach out to pull it off and she moves in as you do, face burying in your chest and breathing in your scent. You toss the robe aside and pull your shirt off over your head as she works her way under it. Her breath comes hot on your chest as she speaks.
“Nnnnh... No teasing this time, alright? No going halfway. I can’t bear it anymore.”
Did she milk herself?
“A little bit. I can’t do it for long... I’m just so... worked up.”
You move your hand under her privates and can feel the heat coming off of them. You’re surprised she’s so hormonal this close to the birth. She’s almost got your jeans off before you snap back from your musing and help her ease them over and off your legs. Immediately she pulls at the front of your boxers, freeing your erection and clamping her mouth over it, sucking hard. Her cheeks cave and she continues to suck as she slides it around her mouth, tucking the head into the folds of her cheek, pushing her tongue over it with quick teasing flicks. You grip her hair and lean back against the crib, but it slides away and leaves you flopping onto your back.
She doesn’t miss a beat. She climbs up onto your cock and plunges it straight in with a howl of pleasure.
“Nnnnhhhhyaaaa. That’s it. That’s what I’ve been wanting all day and night.”
You grab handfuls of her haunches and help her slide up and down again as she whines.
“I can do it... I can.”
And she begins to bounce up and down, bracing her hooves on your chest to give her a bit of leverage. She’s a mass of sliding and moaning alabaster body, her hair flips and flies wildly, her tail wraps and twists around one of your legs. For your part you hook your hands under her haunches and they sink and disappear as she moves herself up and down your aching shaft. It takes both of you lifting to keep her rhythm constant, and even still you’re both panting in minutes. Each time she lands on your body you watch her thick rolls ripple, and each time she rises up you get a glance of your slick and shining rod almost entirely bared.
At last she sinks down and can’t lift herself anymore, it’s up to you to do the work. You try to thrust from where you are, but it’s impossible. Your hands stray out from under her to her nipples, so tender and swollen in front of you. You begin to squeeze the thick flesh around them, watching as the milk dribbles between your fingers. Above you she moans and tries to roll off so you can continue thrusting better, but you grip harder on her breasts, earning a full on spray of milk up your chest and onto your face. You lick at your lips. It actually... actually tastes like milk.
You ease yourself out of her, laying her onto her back as you lower your face to one of her teats. It’s the work of moments to make her moan again, suckling at it and drawing out gulps of semi-sweet creamy milk. Her hooves paw at your shoulders as you continue.
“Gentle... they’re tender. Be gentle?”
You nod and suckle longer, slower, softer. She sighs and her legs spread as her body uncoils and stretches. Between her legs your hand creeps up and in, two fingers gently playing about her slit. You pause in sucking to ask her if she still aches like she did last night.
“Nnnhhh. No. I think... it wasn’t my... it wasn’t hurt down there. It was the... the...”
You rub her tummy with your other hand. She can’t stand vulgar words, so you guess for her. Was her clit sore from all the stimulation?
“Yes... yesssss. More fingers?”
You slip in fingers three and four in quick succession and she groans, lifting her tummy up slightly to give you better access to her breasts.
“Nnnhh... Keep emptying them. As much as you can.”
You nod, vacant stomach in agreement as you lower your face to her breasts and continue to gently prod and probe with your four fingers inside her. At last she indicates that you can relax your work on one of her aching mammaries and turn your attention to the other one, sucking and slurping at it while she squirms under your careful ministrations. All the while you can feel her insides growing slicker, wetter, more ready. You withdraw your fingers and cup both breasts in your hands, sliding your milk slickened cock into the cleavage you’ve created.
“You’re... you’re missing. That’s not it.”
You thrust, dick buried in the mounds of her wet, milk slickened teats. Milk dribbles out from the pressure you’re putting on them, giving their stretched pink skin a shiney gloss, running down into the crevasse and continuing to lubricate as you thrust again.
“Nnnnhhhh you’re being naughty. That’s not going to help-”
She gasps as you thrust once more, milk spurting out and causing her fresh waves of pleasure.
“Keep going... Nnnhhhh keep milking them. Don’t waste everything but...”
You thrust again, and again, each thrust resulting in a bit more milk splashing and splaying about. Before long your hands are soaked in it, and you lick it off.
“Nnnh. Has it started to taste?”
You shush her and pick up the pace, working your hips furiously. Her sore nipples continue to leak milk all the while, and you clench your teeth, readying for the orgasm you can feel welling up. Your back arches and you let out a moan as your seed spurts and shoots up the underside of her tummy, squirting and shooting all over her coat and the floor around you. She fumbles around on the floor until she finds your manhood with her mouth, clamping over it and bobbing her head up and down to generate new hardness in it all while sucking down the last of your thick first load of the day.
You can feel your erection slowly returning, the euphoria fading and being replaced by fresh waves of pleasure building up as you grow hard in her mouth. She swallows it down when it becomes too much for her, taking the length down her throat and continuing to work her tongue over it until she’s sure it will stay hard. Then she turns around, presenting her womanhood to you in all its soaked, pink perfection.
You don’t need prompting, plunging in and driving her to the floor with a shared cry of lust and pleasure. Your hips work madly as you drive her forward, slowly slipping and sliding across the milk and jism slickened hardwood floor until she contacts with a wall. There you continue to drive, thrusting and pounding with loud claps that fill the nearly empty room. She finally wiggles free and you scoop her up and pin her against the wall. Downstairs you can hear a knock at the door, but you shake your head when she makes eye contact. You continue to thrust and slam as you lean her against the wall, creating a sling for her with your arms and holding her off the ground. She wraps her legs around you and you pick up the pace, sending her into silently mouthed swears. The weight of her body and the protests of your arms fade into white noise as you continue your work, but slowly she slips down the length of the wall and takes you with her.
This doesn’t stop the fun though. As soon as she hits the floor you hike up her leg, roll her onto her side, straddle her spare leg and plunge yourself back in. From the new position you’re buried balls-deep, entire shaft disappearing into her without being held back by the thickness of her body. Her eyes fly open as you bump the end of her insides, and she whimpers. You know that bumping the cervix would hurt most ponies, but it all just becomes pleasure to her. She likes the small degree of pain, and she widens her legs as much as she can, begging for that same spot to be slammed over and over.
You oblige, continuing to take advantage of your excellent position. Your hands grope and grab at her rolls of tummy, holding them out of the way as she continues to beg and plead.
“Please... don’t stop. Keep going. That’s the spot. Keep going. I’ll... I-”
You feel her tighten around you and you know she’s cumming. Her hooves claw at the hardwood floor, the baseboard of the wall, your chest, anything they can reach. You keep on pounding, body aching with pleasure but void of anything to release this soon after your last climax. You could keep going until the pleasure overtakes you, but a knock from downstairs brings you back to reality. When you try to stop however, she locks her legs around you.
“Don’t stop. So hot... I want to go again.”
You look at her and she smiles.
“Honest. Trust me?”
You nod and resume your thrusting, gradually building up to the quick speed you had moments ago. She leans back, taking it in, ocassional moan slipping from her pursed lips. You lower your hand and gently tease her exposed clit, experimenting as best you can. The sharp intake of breath gives you no clues one way or the other as to whether or not she’s still hurting, but when you try to move your hand away her hoof shoves it back.
“More. Like that.”
You nod and continue to rub circles around it as you thrust and pound. To your surprise, you can feel the beginnings of orgasm steadily building in you as well. With your unoccupied hand you begin to spank her, and her moans finally escape her mouth with a shrill cry.
“Nnnhhhaa. Oh. Oh keep going. Keep going, I’m almost there!”
You slap her enormous bottom harder and pick up the pace until you feel her body stop shaking and rocking on its own. As you start to slow down you feel the tension drip from your body in sweet climax inside her, and you drop onto the floor beside her panting. Her lips find yours, but it’s not the fierceness you expected. It’s soft, gentle, not the result of a half an hour of screwing some degree of marital conquest from one another’s loins, but the kiss of a mare who’s finally content.
“Door... someone was at the door.”
You nod and scoop up her robe, helping her into it as you hop into your jeans. She heads to the door as you finish righting the crib and gently hang her mobile above it, looking around the otherwise bare room. Soft lilac walls. A home-made toybox with some things you were gifted at the shower, and a dresser with clean clothes. In the corner, some packs of diapers stacked up. You take a deep breath and close the door, hoping you’re ready for what’s coming to live in there.

When you get downstairs, Rarity’s sitting in her chair with a letter. It seems one of the mystery knocks was the mailmare.
“It’s from mother. She says Sweetie Belle’s meant to arrive today, and she’s passing up on her first concert for it.”
You hop into the chair next to her. Isn’t that Sweetie’s choice?
“It is... but this is her big break. And you know how she’s still a bit stageshy. I’ve worked enough fashion shows to know that’s what this is. She wants to be here for the foal, but just as equally she doesn’t want to be there for fear of failing. I’m not quite... Oh, why does everyone in my life insist on being so noble and self sacrificing? Don’t they understand it’s all just... just rubbish?!”
You rest your hand on her hoof and try to sound encouraging. She knows about generosity. This is the same thing.
“No. It’s not the same thing. Generosity is about helping those with less, because you’ve got more. It’s about passing up on what you don’t need because others do. It’s saying you don’t like pie when you notice there’s not enough to go around. This is different. You and Sweetie... that’s not generosity, it’s self destruction.”
Sacrifice can be a mark of love. She knows that. It’s the highest mark of love.
“You think so? You really think so? I think it’s selfish.”
It’s entirely selfless. That’s the point! It’s loving someone more than you love yourself!
“No. Not to the person you leave behind it isn’t. It’s loving your principle more than you love yourself. True sacrifice exists, but it’s not what you’re doing, or what she’s doing. If Sweetie came here, she could feel less guilty. She’s fulfilled her obligation as a sister, and she’s run from the problem she was afraid of rather than faced it. But I’d feel simply awful about it. I couldn’t live with myself. For what little she’d be contributing, the trade wouldn’t be even at all.”
You rest your face in your palm. These kinds of philosophical talks are always awkward with her. Can’t she see people want to do right by her?
“Right by me? Right by me would be wishing me well and going on to succeed. Right by me would be having the courtesy to at least drown where I can see you, to sink up to your neck in the water right beside me. How can I value myself over her, or you? How could I live with myself? When you make such stupid sacrifices, you entirely remove my voice from the equation. You don’t even ask if I want to be saved. It’s a power play, and it’s about you. Generosity is about giving people a chance to have a voice. What you’re talking about only takes it away.”
There’s a click of a door and you both look up. Sweetie Belle is removing her hat, still damp from the rain.
“Twilight said you’d be here... So I hope you don’t mind that I just let myself in this time. You didn’t answer before.”
You shoot a nervous glance to Rarity, but she’s suddenly all smiles. She rises and embraces her sister, and in seconds they’re trading overly cheery hellos and comments on each other’s growth and physique.
“My sister, the professional singer. Haven’t you somewhere to be?”
Sweetie looks away at the floor.
“I’m sorry. I heard you talking about it... I don’t... It’s not like that.”

Rarity smiles, and even you feel the maternal pull of her sudden charm. Sweetie melts under that caring gaze and finally meets her sister’s eyes.

“Well then, why don’t we have tea for two in the kitchen while we discuss it. You look dreadfully wet.”

You can take the hint, and you duck into the workshop room, busying yourself with straightening shelves that don’t truly need the help. When at last you hear their voices re-enter the living room, they’re happy and laughing. They talk of times gone by. You hear Rarity inquire about getting a fire started, and you hurry back in, happy to be able to finally help. In only a few minutes a roaring blaze is going and Sweetie’s cloak and hat are drying by the fire while you all laugh and fill each other in on over a year’s separation. By the time night is falling, Rarity wraps up a story and looks from you to Sweetie.

“So... Dinner. We need dinner.”

You nod, and Sweetie Belle agrees.

“I was going to see if Twilight and Dash have wrapped up their spat and see if everyone wanted to do drinks and pizza tonight. Something a bit more low key, I don’t feel like cooking.”

You can’t help but grin. Pizza means Dragon’s Oven pizza, and that’s the best stuff in Equestria bar none. In only minutes she’s giving you a list of beers to go pick up and party favors to receive, plus a few groceries. You nod and hurry out the door, excited for the evening.

Dragon’s pizza is, of course, a pizzeria run entirely by younger dragons and ponies. It’s the only place that actually serves meat in all of Equestria, and the only time you ever get to eat it. Expensive? Perhaps. Delivered hot to your door via dragonbreath? Certainly. But worth it? Definitely. And every bit sent their way goes to building a horde for the young dragons when they come of age, a ritual that every dragon should practice lest they suffer some degree of dibilitating gem lust in their maturing years and wreck the lives of everypony for miles. It’s an excellent charity system, and you know your generous wife always sends the finest gems as tips. You smile as you take the list from her and hurriedly put on your coat.

“If I see Rainbow Dash I’ll send her to help you carry things back!”

You nod and hurry into the streets of ponyville, only a half an hour before the market closes. Even at your best pace, by the time you reach it you have ten minutes to collect everything. You ask the familiar checkout mare where you might find the beers you’ve been sent to select, but she just gapes and looks behind you.
You feel it before you hear or see it, and you’re slammed off your feet and onto the ground. You roll and put your hands up, ready to fend off your attacker, only to have your shoulders pinned by Rainbow Dash’s hooves.
“‘Sup?”
You roll your eyes. That wasn’t funny.
“I dunno, you looked pretty classic. Should’ve seen the look on your face! Come on man, you’re supposed to be evenzies with me or something.”
She dismounts and offers you a hoof to help you up. Together you walk past the horrified checkout pony and into the beer aisle. She picks out a few choice microbrews and slips them into her saddlebags while you select a variety of lagers and ales and carry the sixpacks onward to the chip aisle. There you collect chips and salsa while Dash zips about collecting your groceries in record time. After you’re sure you’ve gotten everything you pay and exit the store as the owner closes the doors behind you.
Now that you’re in the street you nudge her and ask her if she’s made up with Twilight.
“What, y’mean for last night? Kinda. I mean... I think we were both... she went kinda nuts that I wasn’t there when she woke up and needed me. Never thought she’d need me to be, honestly.”
You nod and let her continue, not wanting to interrupt the outflow of information you’ve privately been dying to know.
“I mean... I never knew how much she needed me. At least not until last night, when you told me. And then she was so mad that I didn’t figure it out on my own, like I’m supposed to or something, yeah?”
You nod. You want to tell her that this is why communication’s important, but you keep it to yourself.
“So I told her everything this morning. I told her how much I messed up, and how much I missed her at night, and uhhh...”
You laugh.
“I mean, I can make it and stuff on my own, but the long and short is that we’re kinda moving in together. Or talking about it. I think.”
You conceal your alarm with a nod, deciding to stay on her side and see where she’s going with it first.
“It’s kinda like, I dunno. I dunno what other mares do who like mares. I dunno what other ponies will say if we do it.”
Screw them.
“Easier said than done. And I bet Twi would be pretty pissed if I did.”
You laugh again and mess her hair and mane up. She retaliates by flicking her tail and you nudge her. Before long you’re pushing and shoving each other the entire walk home. At last you almost lose your footing from her merciless ribbing and she catches you easily. It seems like the right time to ask. You can’t call yourself her friend and not bring it up.
Is she sure she’s doing the right thing moving in with Twilight this soon after such a brutal fight?
“Huh? Where’d that come from.”
From your conversation before.
“Oh. Right. Well... I mean...”
If she has to hesitate, she should think about it more.
“No, I just... I’m bad at this kinda stuff, dude. Don’t go acting like you’re much better at it, either. I dunno how to say it. All our fights are because we’re not around enough. I never noticed how much being crazy about somepony would drive you crazy around them.”
Seems counter-logical.
“No... no, look. If I miss Twilight, I get all stressed and stuff. Then when she wants to go someplace else I get bent out of shape ‘cause I haven’t seen her at all that day. Moving in should help out.”
You shake your head. It’s her call, but did she talk about marriage at all?
“No... but this is kinda the same, right? I mean, if ponies can get used to this, they’ll be used to us.”
Not the same, is it? It can’t be just about what other ponies do and say. It has to be about them on some level.
“Man, when’d you turn into such a downer?”
You sigh, and now it’s hard for you to talk.
You almost screwed her over last night by pushing her and Twilight around, and you feel like crap for it. No matter what Rarity says, you think they should take their time. It’s not up to you, but it seems like they shouldn’t rush just because they feel like they have to.
“Oh. Uhhh... You don’t have to feel bad. It wasn’t your fault at all. Last night, I mean. But... I dunno. I’ll think about it. What’ll Twilight say if I go back on moving in at this point, anyway?”
You reach the door to the Boutique and stop there, looking at Dash firmly and seriously for once.
Twilight will do what she’ll do, but Dash shouldn’t ever be so afraid of her partner’s reaction that she doesn’t say something about it. Talk about everything.
She rolls her eyes and lowers her head.
“Communication. Yeah. Got it. Heard it a million times.”
You laugh and open the door for her. It’s the key to a healthy marriage.
You bump into something as you proceed.
Rarity fills the door in front of you, looking up.
“What’s that?”
You jump back with a laugh and rub her ears, shooting a nervous look over to Sweetie Belle. Just talking to Dash about something important.
“Oh, were you? You’ve gotten good at that.”
You nod and move to set your collected things down in the kitchen.

When you return Dash and Twilight have their beers open, and Sweetie’s fumbling with the cap on hers. Rarity is laughing and talking loudly, a glass of water in her hoof.
“She’s only in for the evening of course, she’ll be going to her concert tomorrow. I just know she’ll be fantastic no matter what happens.”
Twilight and Dash offer their congratulations as Dash reclines onto Twilight’s seated flank. The purple unicorn blushes as her eyes wander to Sweetie, still struggling with the top to her beer bottle. Twilight moves her leg away, and Dash’s ears sink a little bit. The pegasus carefully scrunches back onto her side of the couch and sips her beer quietly as Rarity continues to extol Sweetie’s virtues as a singer and performer.
“Go ahead Sweetie. Tell them about that charming stallion you said you’d met backstage at the auditions.”
Sweetie taps her still closed bottle on the side of the couch, face scrunched up.
“Dumb bottle.”
You pluck it from her hooves and open it with a strong twist, sitting down on the couch across from her and forcing Dash to scoot closer to Twilight. Dash offers you a confused look, but you just stretch out a bit more as you return Sweetie’s now opened bottle. You can feel Dash move a little bit away from you, and you risk a glance over, discovering that Twilight’s hoof is creeping toward Dash’s. Relieved, you grab up a bottle for yourself, pop it open with ease, and take a quick swig.
Before long everyone in the room is on bottle two, and spirits are in high swing.
“I must admit to being nervous about the foal’s special gift of course. I know it’s meant to be something she has fun doing, but I fear I’m just too personally sighted. Whatever would I do if she became a backorder cook, or a ditch digger, or a garbage mare?”
Sweetie clears her throat, prompting an amendment before Rarity proceeds.
“Apologies Sweetie. I don’t mean any ill toward Apple Bloom, but that was a spot of bad luck. Somepony has to empty the garbage though, I suppose.”
“She seems to enjoy it alright. That’s the nice thing about having a cutie mark.”
“Yes, well. Be that as it may, I fear for the foal’s safety all the same.”
Twilight eyes you from where she and Dash are now more comfortably close and shoots a question your way.
“What about you? Would you be worried for her if she turned out to be a dragon tamer, or concerned if she was a gravedigger?”
You ponder it and shrug. Whatever makes her happy, you suppose. You’ll always be here to make sure she’s safe.
Dash leans a little more into her partner, prompting a new nervous glance around the room from Twilight. From her cushy spot she finishes her second beer and opens another.
“Y’know, that’s real sweet. I’d like to be a dad someday like you. I mean, not like you, like you-”
“-And not a dad, either.” Sweetie Belle amends.
“Well why the hay not? I could be somepony’s dad if I wanna.”
Dash’s powder blue face is slowly blushing more, and she takes another swig of her beer.
“I bet I could be a dad.”
Sweetie laughs.
“I don’t think it works that way, Dash. You gonna be ok to fly home?”
“I guess. It isn’t like that’s that... that hard to do.”
You bite your lip as your mind races for a distraction, and nearly jump out of your seat as Rarity rises with an “AHA!”
In midst of your semi-circle a stack of pizza boxes begins to materialize with a puff of green and blue smoke. You all cough slightly and you pull the boxes apart and start to open them as the ponies dig in. You grin as you bite into delicious pepperoni, sausage, and bacon. Oh how you’ve missed their amazing flavors. Across the little coffee table from you, Rarity looks around carefully before extending her hoof to the meaty pizza.
“Well, this is a room full of forward thinking mares, I think. Darling, might I have a bite of that... the one you’ve got?”
Twilight almost chokes and the other two ponies turn to stare.
“Is... is it a problem, having different tastes?”
Twilight forces herself to swallow.
“No... no, not really.”
Sweetie’s cuts in now.
“No way! I’ve met all kinds of ponies on the show circuits and stuff. They’re all pretty nice though. You meet some neat mares and colts. I know somepony who actually tried meat too, but he said it wasn’t that nice.”
Twilight Sparkle’s eyes shift about the room carefully.
“O-oh. You meet a lot of interesting ponies, don’t you Sweetie?”
Rarity’s little sister nods sagely.
“Oh yeah. Stageponies are pretty open minded. I know a few mares who like mares, and one of the colts who was chasing me for a while wanted me to join a harem.”
Rarity stops mid bite.
“Really? How positively scandalous. And you’ve mare friends who date mares? How progressive!”
Sweetie nods with a grin and you look over at Twilight, but the lavender librarian has suddenly got a mouthful of something besides pizza. Dash pushes her further into the cushions with loud slurping kisses; and Sweetie blushes and takes a larger bite of her pizza, staring intently.
“O-oh my gosh. Dash really shouldn’t have had so much to-”
“They’re seeing each other, Sweetie.”
“Well not like that. Their eyes are all scrunched up, and I don’t think they need their tongues to look at-”
“Sweetie, darling. They’re dating each other.”
“Ooooh. Oh, wow. That’s... pretty topical.”
You slap your forehead loudly and Rarity can’t help but laugh. At last Twilight untangles herself and apologizes profusely, much to everyone’s general acceptance. Behind her Dash’s hoof begins to rub and play with her mane. Twilight blushes as the pegasus’ hoof creeps down her back and across her leg.
“D-dash.... Dash, we need to talk.”
“Hmmmm?”
Dash’s eyes, half lidded, follow Twilight’s over to the kitchen door. Wordlessly they depart for it and the door clicks behind them. Sweetie Belle sinks into her seat and picks up another slice of pizza as she watches them go, sighing once they’ve left.
“Awww. I hope I didn’t get Dash in trouble.”
“I... somehow doubt it, dear. So tell me about your mare friends.”
“First you tell me how come you’re trying meat. That’s weird for a pony.”
Rarity shrugs and bites into the piece. Her equine teeth struggle for a few moments with the consistency of it, but finally she swallows and blushes.
“If I’m honest, I’ve been craving it since day one of this pregnancy... but I didn’t want anypony to know. You’re supposed to crave what your foal needs, and I can’t imagine what the implications of it might be. I’ve been hard at work getting my protein from other sources of course, but the taste... I didn’t even know the taste but I longed for it.”
Sweetie tilts her head.
“Maybe the baby just needs protein or something. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, ‘sis.”
“No, I quite agree. But protein certainly didn’t abate the desire to taste it... bite it... sink my teeth into it...”
Your eyes narrow. She never told you about any of those cravings. You clear your throat and ask if you can speak to her... Alone, in the sewing room, since the kitchen is occupied.
“When I finish my slice. I can tell you’re upset, so I’ll let you drag me away from what little time I have with my sister.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but Sweetie assures her it’s alright.

One slice later you’re both in the sewing room. As you close the door behind you she darts deeper into the room, looking about for fabric.
“I told Sweetie I’d make her a proper cloak for her show tomorrow night. Where did I put that gold silk?”
You clear your throat.
“You can berate me while I work, you’re not going to say anything I can’t guess.”
Is that a shortcut for all this communication she keeps harping on about? Just guess when one of you is mad and be done with it?
“No. But I know what you’ll say. And you know what I’ll say. I’ll say that you were already worried enough about the state of the foal without having to worry that she’ll turn out carnivorous or vampiric.”
You sigh and roll your eyes. Those are legitimate worries.
“No, no they aren’t. Legitimate worries are something you can do something about. What would you do in the case of the foal?”
You don’t know. Talk to Twilight? Ask why it would be that way? Put your mind at ease?
“Your mind has been at ease for nine months.”
Then why did she tell you now?
“Because with only a few days to go there’s not much you can do to worry about it, and I can actually satisfy the urge. Which, by the way, isn’t satisfied yet. I’d think you’d be happy, I could put on a plethora of pounds if you’d let me have my way with that pizza in there.”
You swallow hard at the thought of it and shake your head.
All that pizza... waiting for her?
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
She’s trying to distract you.
“It seems to be working.”
She rubs her hoof across your growing bulge, stroking it carefully through your jeans.
“Later? Perhaps?”
You nod. You’re still upset with her.
“I’m sorry. I know... I know.”
Is this the last secret?
“Yes.”
The dreams? The cravings? Anything else?
“I ahhh...”
You pick up her glasses from the sewing table next to you and place them on her face.
“There. Yes.”
You scratch her ears. Why does she try to keep secrets from you?
“I could ask you the same... but honestly, you’ve been fairly good about it, haven’t you?”
You nod. She bugs you too much to let you get away with secrets, although you’ve tried.
“Yes, I know you have. But I suppose it just happens. You know I’d never hide anything big from you, yes?”
You stroke her expansive back. She’s not going to slip anything that big past you.

“Oh ha ha. Very well then. Let’s go back to Sweetie, we’re simply awful hosts.”

The night progresses onward as you cuddle with Rarity in her overstuffed recliner. Eventually Dash and Twilight emerge from the kitchen, Dash’s chest heaving, Twilight’s mane a mess. Both of them look significantly more sober, and the two sink into the couch and help themselves to a couple more slices of pizza. The hours slip by and the beers are steadily emptied until Sweetie Belle is fast asleep in her chair and your other two guests are cuddling spooned on the couch. With a large yawn, Dash and Twilight breach the subjects of meat eating, of showing their relationship to Sweetie Belle, of their plans to move in together. Dash’s eyes linger on you during this portion of the conversation, and she finally sits up.

“Twi... We’re not moving too fast, are we? I mean... shouldn’t we let everypony know, first?”

Twilight tilts her head at the question and sips at her beer thoughtfully. Her eyes fixate on a point above the fireplace and she swallows hard.

“I... I understand if you’ve changed your mind Rainbow. I know it’s a lot to commit to.”

“No, I haven’t. I just mean... Uhhh... Coming out together, that’s a lot of commitment. And pressure. And even though we don’t know it, maybe we’ll need space as we get used to everypony knowing about us. After tonight, I kinda think it’s possible.”

Twilight risks a look over her shoulder to Dash and meets serious eyes. Their gazes lock as Twilight forces a smile.

“Oh I know! I wasn’t expecting Sweetie to be so... agreeable. But she’s a stagepony. This is a small town. Who knows how everypony will react? I want you by my side for that...”

“I will be. But you’ll want me out of your sight sometimes, too. You love your space Twi.”

There’s silence. Then Twilight breaks it. Her voice falters, and she seems on the verge of tears.

“Y-you’re not having second thoughts about... about us? I mean... I really wanted you with me for this. We can talk about it some more, right?”

“What the hay?! Of course I’m not gonna quit you. Silly filly... Spent our whole time together chasing you, remember? We can talk any time... I don’t wanna decide everything tonight, but I didn’t want it all decided right away either...”

“No, I get that, it’s just-”

Twilight looks up where you and Rarity are grinning and cuddling.

“Uhh. We’ll finish the talk later, huh? My place? Tonight?”

Dash nods.

“Will you still stay with me tonight?”

Another nod.

“Wanna go now?”

A third nod.

“Alright well... guess we’re going then. Thanks for having us, Rarity!”

Your wife springs off the couch to say her farewells and hug her two close friends. Dash weaves around her after the hug is finished and hugs your legs as you rise awkwardly to meet her. You mess her hair and mane a little in reply, it’s the best you can do at your height without stooping awkwardly.

“Night dude. Talk to you tomorrow, huh?”

Probably.

“Good luck with the foal!”

When they’re gone and the last goodbye is said Rarity scoops up the pizza boxes and carries them off into her sewing room. You follow her, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. When you get in, she’s already gorging herself on it.

“Nnmmm... Meat’s so hard to chew. But it’s so good.”

Does she want just meat, or protein too?

“Hmmm?”

She looks over as you present your boner to her.

“Mmmm... that counts as both...But I need you to work your magic again on these breasts of mine... they’re simply aching. I hope you saved room for dessert.”

You nod eagerly as she presents them to you, hooves working quickly on Sweetie’s cloak as you suckle. At last it becomes too much for her and she drops her work and grips your hair with her hooves.

“Hhhhhhaaaaa. It’s been hours. You’ve no idea how good this feels.”

All the while you marvel at how sweet her milk has become, how big and tender her breasts are now. Each flex of your hand squirts milk out, a topping you place on slices of pizza as you gradually feed them to her before lowering your mouth once more to her swollen mammaries and gulping down their abundant nector. You finish suckling her back to comfort- a process that takes almost an hour- before you receive the go ahead to lift her into your arms and take her upstairs.You can’t manage it all the way of course, but she’s happy to follow you the rest of the way into bed, a floating train of pizza boxes in tow.

You quickly brush your teeth and slip into your bathrobe, and when you return to bed she’s already finished the last four slices of one large pizza and is moving onto the next. You grin and shimmy out of the robe, lifting a slice to her mouth. She bites into it with relish, moaning as your spare hand rubs her tummy. Her hoof finds the expected boner and begins to slowly tug up and down on it as you lift each slice to her mouth. When you reach the last box she straddles your legs, facing away as she scoops up one of the last three slices and bites into it with a soft moan while easing down onto your cock.

The view of her immense backside is incredible. The warmth of her womanhood, the way she grips each time she shifts and slides, the way she moans around each bite of pizza- all these things drive you to cup your hands under each of her broad buttocks and begin to pump in and out of her. You watch as your slickened shaft disappears and reappears from her folds almost as if by magic. Your hands begin to play with her tail and the pucker of her anus, but this earns a reproving groan and you shift their work to her backside once more. As she finishes the second slice of meaty goodness she cranes her neck to face you.

“Nnnnmmmm. This position... this pizza... it’s simply divine. I’m such a bad girl, eating so much... probably gained a dozen pounds tonight. My stomach is positively stretched to bursting. I hope you’ve got plans to rub it.”

You nod and ease her off you and onto her side. You cuddle up to her, hands rubbing the immense orb pressed between your bodies, mouths working madly and tongues searching hopefully for one last stop in the world of pleasure before things draw to a close. The reality of it is so present she finally breaks off the kiss and rolls onto her back.

“It’s... it’s likely our last chance, you know. Put on some sort of smooth jazzy music? Dim the lights? I want it to be special. Things change. Tomorrow, most likely. Or the day after. Those were Twilight’s estimations...”

You smile and turn off the lights entirely, opening the windows to bathe both your skins in the moonlight.

“How did we change gears so quickly? I... I thought things were going to be terribly naughty, but...”

You cup her body to yours and slide in between her waiting legs. She moans and grips her hooves around your shoulders, pulling you down to her. The moon spills over her indigo mane and throws her whole body into a pale white light. Every inch of her color is offset in the moon’s soft glow, and you look in eyes that normally shine with sapphire fire only to discover they’ve been replaced with trembling pools of cyan. She closes them and a small silver gleam trickles down her face. You hear her whisper your name and you cup her face in yours, wiggling awkwardly until you can kiss her before starting to thrust slowly and gently.

Each thrust earns a contented sigh, and you stroke the sides of her face as you do it. You tell her it’s alright to cry at this point. She’s practically breathing your name, but the breaths turn to sniffles and moans. You whisper hers back and she clenches her hooves around you. You can feel the tightness, can feel her go slack, can feel her sigh as you pick up the pace despite the fact that she’s just cum. She has to bite her lip to avoid screaming your name, her forehooves tighten and pinch at your arms. Her back legs wrap around you as you continue to increase your speed. You can feel it welling up in you, but the moment shouldn’t be allowed to end. You’re too conscious of it, too aware that if it ends now everything could begin to roll downhill in a direction you’re only beginning to be emotionally prepared for.

So you bite your lip and force the pleasure to the back of your mind. You stare at your wife, lovely, illuminated by the moonlight. You let thanks to Luna pass from your lips that you can see her so beautiful in such soft light. You admire the blush that floods her face at the compliment, you summon up the first time you saw her in this position blushing. It seems so far away, so long ago, a time when you were both unprepared and all too self conscious. You kiss the tip of her horn and try your best to meet her lips. Through a strange craning of her neck she manages to help you do it, and you whisper to her.

You tell her you love her. That you’re ready. That you’re so glad it’s her. Her eyes start to tear up again, and you feel a stinging at your own. When you try to blink it away you lose your focus, and the pleasure of the moment rushes back. She moans and her back arches as you pick up the pace once more and feel the rush of upcoming release. Then it’s there, orgasm gripping you and rendering you temporarily senseless. You bury yourself as deeply as you can, releasing inside her amid ragged pants and self-conscious sniffles that betray how moved you truly are by the opportunity before you.

And this is how you flop into bed beside her, kissing at her neck, running your hands through her hair, finally curling up after a night and day of many random directions, the day you both expect to be your last day of play. And as you fall into slumber, you can’t imagine how wrong you both are. You can’t imagine the agony of time’s cold betrayal; the horrible waiting period that awaits you both as you’ll wake up seven more mornings, each time to the cruelty of an entire week beyond what was expected, a week that passes entirely uneventfully.