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-Part 8: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Anal, Denial, Fisting, Fingering, Squirting, Heavy Foodplay, High drama, Large Weight, Light bondage / Restraining, Denial, Stuffing, Showering, Hornjobs

Part 8 is intended to clean up most of the loose details / high drama from Part 7 so that the series can return to its more relatively light drama. As a result, it’s rather long (34 pages) and is split neatly in the middle with a series of * to allow the reader a proper separation if they prefer their short stories to be... “short.”
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It’s well into the day when you wander into Ponyville, hungry, soaked to the bone, and aching. Your internal clock is telling you that it’s roughly noon, but you can’t tell by looking up. The overcast sky lets out another ominous rumble and you sigh, looking at your side as Rarity sinks deeper into your damp shirt. Her hair is a mess and her hooves are muddy and stained. You walk the rocky road with your own feet bare; your shoes too ruined, shrunken, and soaked to ever wear again. The events of the past day and night have left you both weary, but as you pause to catch your breath and survey the damage to the both of you, she looks up at you with a genuine loving smile creeping out between panted breaths. Her azure eyes sparkle with wetness that can hardly be ascribed to the rain that stopped hours ago as she tries to get her words out to you.
“It’s not so bad... all things considered. We’re almost there, come on now... not much further, right? Ponyville’s in sight... Oh I’ve never been so happy to see it. If the girls could see me now... I can’t wait for the-”
A drop of rain falls on the ground between you two. Another drop followed by another and soon it’s pouring down on both of you. You stare at each other, and she starts to laugh. Her laugh is beautiful, deep from her stomach, shaking her body. You can’t help but laugh too as the scent of wet grass fills your nose. She takes off for Ponyville at a gallop, with you close behind.
Your hurry into town finally gives your feet purchase on cobblestone pavement as you navigate the city streets toward your apartment. You’re headed in that direction when she gives a cry in front of you. Your heart leaps into your throat as you worry she’s lost her balance, but instead she skids to a stop at an alley and takes off through it. You hurry to follow, and it’s another two blocks before you realize you’re headed for the Boutique. Your mind finally catches up with hers, and you remember that much of your apartment has been moved into your actual home over the past few days. You bound across the last street together, dodging ponies and colts who are hurrying about their business amidst the rainy day.
Hitting the door with a thud moments before she does, you turn the key in the lock and collapse together inside the doorstep, laughing in each other’s arms as onlookers gawk. You struggle to get your arms around her thick body, letting her roll safely ontop of you as she clamps her lips onto yours. Her soaked hair slaps across your face, forcing your eyes shut. Both of you are drenched from head to toe, and she practically has to drag herself off of you. You finally lock your arms around her and pull her back, bringing a new string of giggling. Only a handful of hours ago you almost lost everything dear to you, and now no small single kiss will drive out the insecurity of how close that call had been. You pull her face back to yours, sobered by the thought. She slowly stops giggling and looks at your suddenly stern face, not daring to break eye contact.
“Darling, what is it? Did I step on your le-”
You force her head down, lips to yours, locking them tightly in an embrace. You feel her stiff awkwardness melt into a small series of sobs into your mouth, and the same sensations rock you. She breaks the kiss finally, tears streaming down her face and eyes screwed up. Above you you can hear the rain striking the roof with a fury. You sit up and embrace her tightly again, and she kisses at your neck between whimpers. Behind you the door swings against its hinges, caught in a sudden burst of wind that smacks it against the outside of the Boutique and makes you both jump. She lets out a sharp shriek and buries her head into your chest. After a moment, she chuckles into your bare skin.
“We’re so... we’re so silly. Both of us. Nothing could have ever happened back there, right? Never, I could never have lost you. It was all just a bad dream, and now we’re here, and we’re awake again. Safe and sound, all three of us, just like every other day for months on end.”
She forces another little laugh and brushes your lips with hers. The kiss builds in passion, and her hooves fumble for your belt. You struggle to get both of you to your feet, hunched over to keep your face and hers together. She lifts herself onto her hind legs, meeting you and letting you stand straight. She uses you for balance in the awkward position, forcing her tongue into your mouth, strangled sob sneaking out as she tries to work around her body’s thickness to lock her hooves around you. You take a step for the stairs toward your bedroom, and almost have to drag her the majority of the way up them. Behind you the door slaps against the wall outside letting the rain pour in downstairs; but it sits ajar and forgotten for some time, the entrance to a trail of muddy streaks whose paths boldly show where you both moved through the normally spotless halls.

Together they lead through the shop floor, up the stairs, to the bedroom; where they halt and collect at the door, the site of your struggle to avoid falling into bed in your current state; until it continues ponderously toward the bathroom. There it ends, mirror steaming and room filling quickly with the scent of lavender and vanilla.
You finally manage your jeans off, certain that mud and water have shrunken them so badly they’ll never fit properly again. Rarity clumsily manages the rim of the bathtub, and there she settles into it while you shave in the smaller mirror resting on the counter, water collecting noisily behind her immensely thick body. You drink in the very sight of her safe and sound, laying down on her side, head resting on the edge of the shower rim, hot water streaming from the tap over her and onto the vast expanse of her back and bottom. Around her her rolls splay out in thick fatty abundance, and you feel hardness spreading to your lower half. You switch your gaze to her face, wondering if she’s noticed.
Her eyes are lidded entirely, and you’re almost certain she’s asleep. A small sniffle alerts you to her possible consciousness, and she yawns hugely before slowly opening her eyes. You turn your back to her, not wanting her to worry about keeping your sex drive pleased right now. Adjusting the mirror, you try to get a look at her through it, but she’s too far below the edge of the counter. You feel a pinch on your butt, and look behind you. She’s got it gripped tightly in one hoof, a sly smile on her face. Her voice comes out playfully sulky, but she can’t mask the fatigue in it despite her obvious efforts.

“What could you be hiding from me, Prince Charming? Would you really want to waste that on your hands when-”
A great yawn takes her
“When you’ve the finest unicorn in Ponyville at your feet?”
You turn around, manhood still at attention, and she leans her head back, suddenly less playful and more awake.
“My GOODNESS. It certainly is big today.”
You blush in spite of yourself.
“Honestly, is it always so- Good heavens.”
Unable to tell if she’s serious or simply flattering you to put you more in the mood, you look down. Everything looks normal, but when you look up, she’s sliding the glass shower door between you and her. You sigh, wondering what she’s up to. From behind its opaque curtain you hear her muffled voice issue a command above the pitter-patter of your shower head.
“Put it up against the glass.”
You look at her through it for a minute, trying to tell if she’s joking. You’re about to go back to shaving when she taps a hoof on the door to get your attention again.
“I’m serious darling, put it against the glass.”
You shrug, setting your razor on the counter and pressing your hardness up against the glass. Despite all the steam fogging it on the other end, your side is surprisingly cold, and you jerk it back with a protesting yelp.
“No no. Put it back. Back where I can see it.”
You squint, barely able to make her out through the fogged up pane between you two. Carefully this time, you put it back up against the glass. An ivory coloured hoof taps against the steamed curtain, leaving a trail of streaking clearness behind it. Carefully she draws the outline of your member, and you feel blush flood your cheeks again as you realize that’s what she’s doing. She finishes the familiar shape and you hear her turn down the force of the water.
What follows can only be described as a clamour, and you watch her incredibly distorted figure through the glass separating both of you as she uses the washcloth racks in the shower to take to her back legs. You try to open the door to get to her, but she cuts you off as you reach for it.
“No! No no... I’m just...”
She nestles herself up against the shower door, and you watch as more and more of her body comes into faintly smokey view as she mushes her side against the glass wall. Finally she slowly slumps down into the shower basin again and looks at the result. You take it in too. She’s left a nearly perfect impression of her enormously round body against the sliding door. You can see her more clearly through the unsteamed section she’s left, but you’re unable to make out her expression. Still, the size comparison is there.
You pull aside the door at last, and slide down onto the tub floor around her before closing it behind you to keep the warmth in. Both your legs have to be spread with bending at the knees to accommodate her girth between them, and your hardness slaps against her back. You look at what she’s looking at, and she turns to you over her shoulder.
“It is rather big comparatively, isn’t it? I mean, just look.”
You’re about to remind her that she’s a good two feet shorter than you unless she’s standing up on her back legs, and even then she’s much smaller physically, but she sighs and leans back into you, incredibly thick haunches rubbing their softness against your erection. Some of your shaving cream brushes into the back of her hair, but she says nothing.
“It’s hard to believe it all fits inside, you know. Honestly, look how far it must go in.”
You clear your throat loudly, wishing the subject would change to something less embarrassing.
“And so modest about it, too.”
You remind yourself you’re only average, at least as far as you know. You’ve no one else to compare to, after all.
“Really though, the difference is - why it’s halfway into my stomach if this is to be believed.”
You clear your throat again, louder this time.
“Something in your throat dea- GOOD HEAVENS!”
She looks back at you and spots the shaving cream still dropping off your chin and neck.
“You got that in my hair! My HAIR! Oh that does it, you get nothing out of me until we’re both in bed.”
You sigh at the end of her game and take your feet, reaching out of the shower and stretching to reach the countertop for your razor. Under you, she moves awkwardly, and you feel your feet leave the shower floor long before your brain registers that the ground is getting closer. It swoops up, snatching at you-
But the impact doesn’t come. Behind you, she sighs and magically drops you gently the rest of the way to the ground. The ring on your finger twitches slightly from the effort, and she leans back.
“Easier to do the second time I... I should discuss that with Twilight. I’m not sure why it was so easy.”
You manage to roll over and spot her against the shower wall, breathing heavily. Carefully you drag yourself and your razor back in with you and cradle her up against you. It doesn’t look like it was easy from her rapid breathing. You collect some water in your hand and hold it up to her lips, and she sips it gratefully before looking up at you.
“Now now... I may... Feel... like I’ve... run a marathon... but... I assure you. I’m perfectly... fine now.” You kiss her on her horn affectionately, and she shudders slightly. Experimentally, you kiss there again. She lets out a long breath.
“Feels good. Don’t understand.”
You arch an eyebrow. You checked with her years ago when you started dating and were specifically told that unicorn horns being an erogenous zone was an old mare’s tale. You even tried it on your fourth date, much to her laughter and good humor before she directed you gently to places that mattered more.
You kiss her again there, more slowly this time. She moans gently in your arms. It’s not clear how it’s pleasurable, but it’s obviously tender. You rub the hardness of her horn with your hand - it’s just the same as the last time you tried it in terms of firmness and texture.
“S’like rubbing a sore spot. Mmmmnnn”
She turns her face into your embrace, nuzzling against your chest. Above you, the water starts to chill, and you turn the tap to release more hot water. Gently you rub and massage her horn, and she slowly sinks lower in the tub until you’re hunched over her as she reclines on her back in the smooth warm basin. You give her a gentle kiss, rubbing her horn and tummy at the same time. All four of her legs kick softly at your touch, and you lean back, thinking you might have found something to ask Twilight Sparkle about yourself if time permits. As you withdraw your hand, her hooves clamp down on it and she mumbles something. You lean closer as she repeats herself for you.
“Don’t... stop...”
You rub her tummy encouragingly with the other hand and she spreads her legs to let the water from above hit her womanhood directly. You squirm on the shower floor next to her and try to manage yourself into the tight space that her thick body leaves you. You can feel the firmness of your member pressing against the soft pillowy thickness of her enormous haunches. From your prone perspective looking back in that direction you watch the curvature of her body as it steadily fills the horizon of the bathtub the further back it goes, her stomach a snow covered mountain resting between the hills of her thick white thighs. Her upper hooves scrape desperately at the shower bowl as you increase the pace of your massaging her horn. By now her voice is rising again.
“D-Do you like my body? Do you want it? You want to put it in?”
You rub against her thigh, arousal growing as her resolve begins to break.
“N-we musn’t. You can’t do that until tonight.”
You sigh at the intentional denial and sit up, slightly peeved.
Rarity gradually sits up as you finish shaving in the shower, doing your best to pick out the rough patches by feel.
“Oh goodness. A-are we done so soon? I suppose it’s fair... I did say you weren’t to have anything from me until bed, so it might as well be fair. I -had- rather hoped you’d play along a little more though.”
She forces a pout and you shrug, trying not to make eye contact, hoping to tease her and perhaps get her into the mood to finish what she started.
“And at any rate, after seeing the magnitude of what’s to be put in me, I’m not sure I want it then either.”
You fake an irritated sigh, inwardly pleased that she’s still happy enough to tease you and dote on your size.
“Those are my insides, you know, there’s a baby in there somewhere.”
You swallow your reply that it’s “not how that works” and finish shaving your last cheek. You’re sure she’s trying to get the better of you, but inwardly you wonder just how much she knows about pony anatomy.
“I wonder how it accommodates, it seems so...”
This prompts you to look at her, no longer able to conceal your wondering at whether or not she’s playing with you. Her smile betrays her lack of ignorance on the subject. You take to your feet and present yourself to her, no longer completely hard, but she feigns disinterest and pushes herself away from it, taking to her hooves and putting her back to you as she washes out the conditioner and remaining shaving cream in her hair. She intentionally begins to sway her hips, causing ripples of her enormous haunches to greet your eyes. “I can’t fit that in. I’m telling you, it won’t stretch to such huge proportions. Do you think I’m some sort of marshmallow?” You reply by squeezing a handful of soft alabaster butt, and she snorts as you both climb out of the shower and begin to towel off. “I suppose I am rather full of marshmallow -somewhere-. And while we’re on that subject... Later this evening, yes?” A slap on her rump and you’re turning off the bathroom lights and staggering towards the bedroom together.

“This evening” doesn’t come as planned. The two of you settle into bed almost immediately, and the world fades out of your senses for quite some time in the embrace of the pony you hold so dearly. Fatigue from your journey overtakes you quickly, and both of you lose any remaining sexual pressure the moment you get your arms around the other. Gripped by the desperation of yesterday, you tighten your hold on her and she burrows deeper into the sheets around you, shutting out the world in the silence of your spacious bedroom. Around your bodies the sheets tangle and bundle as you pull each other closer and tighter, heads finally resting adjacent one another, bodies a tangle of hooves, hands and feet. For the first time since you started sleeping together, she says nothing as the bedthings wrap and cling to your bodies in the most untidy way. By the time she drifts off to sleep in your arms, she’s got a stranglehold around your shoulders, and the pillow around your heads is wet from both of your hair. Your own arms loop under and over her chest and pull it tightly to your own, and despite the security of the moment you find it hard to relax. Outside the boutique window the rain continues to drum across the glass, and the steam from your nearby bathroom has fogged its windows. You lay a kiss on her forehead and take a deep breath. The scent of her hair, matted against the pillow around you, fills your nose and brings a smile to your face. She’s here now, in every way you can touch and feel. She’s safe, too. Comfortable, tired, and warm.
You run a hand across her tummy, eyelids growing heavy. The foal within seems to be fine, at least she hasn’t felt any complications surrounding it. You pin it to an ever growing mental list of things to talk to Twilight about. Around you the scent of clean sheets and drying hair finally lures you off to sleep to the gentle rhythm of her breathing.
You bring yourself awake an unfathomable number of hours later. She’s gone from your bedside. A brief panic sets in as moonlight shines in the window beside your bed, and it’s not until you hear her heavy hoofbeats coming up the stairs that your hammering heart starts to slow. She marches steadily up the hallway and pauses in the door as she gets a look at your face. Her mouth has a stick of celery hanging out of it, and she’s got a stuffed saddlebag over her shoulders and neck. “Nuer Wake”? she manages through the mouthful.
You sit up in the bed to get a better look at what she’s got, but she blushes madly in the dim light of the room and shuts the saddlebag quickly, furiously gulping down the celery and sputtering out a quick string of excuses.
“It seemed so comfortable and I just thought we might be in bed for a while but I haven’t eaten a good meal in days. Ohh... Some of it’s for you! Look!”
You lay back in bed as she heavily thumps up onto it and over you to her side, bed groaning and mattress sinking with her every wobbly hoof fall until she’s curled up on her side next to you with the bag between both of you. While she’s preoccupied with getting comfortable, you look inside. It’s filled with marshmallows, celery, apples, and carrots. All her favorites. Definitely handpicked for you, and you laugh as she takes some of them out.
“Well- well you like them too!”
She sets the bag and its contents next to the bed and finishes gulping down the rest of her celery meal, offering you a couple of the stalks. You chew on one thoughtfully before reaching out to rub her horn playfully.
“Dovn’t veel anymo” she manages between bites.
You rub it more quickly, and she crosses her eyes upward to look where your hand is before swallowing.
“I already tried that. It doesn’t feel good anymore. I’m not certain why it doesn’t.”
You sigh, leaning back and finishing your last stick of vegetable goodness to think on the matter. She rolls over, pushing herself up with her hooves, unsteadily plodding across the small space between you two until she rests her haunches on your naked groin. You can feel heat coming off her privates, and she glistens wetly in the moonlight. She leans in to kiss you, and for a brief moment the white light spreads across her pale face and shines across her messy hair, pouring her sapphire eyes full of light. You quickly stop her advance with your hand, and ease her face back into the position it was in.

She’s gorgeous, even as she gives you the most puzzled look. You tell her so, and she blushes and tries to look at the wall.
“I-is that so? What is it?”
It’s her coat, perhaps. So beautiful and well groomed, positively shining like a sea of desert sand at night. For a moment, you drink in its stillness, barely disturbed by the rising and falling of her chest. Maybe it’s her hair, just right framing her chubby face, the tangled and unkempt state giving her an almost too natural appeal. Perhaps it’s the reflection of her eyes, which you’ve never seen so starkly lit by the moon. It’s a wonderful thing, being awake at night. A totally different light from the sun, something soft and gentle to illuminate her soft and gentle figure. In that moment she looks like what you imagine the very first unicorn must have looked like, and you brush the sides of her neck encouragingly and whisper all of this to her. She sinks into your arms and lays a careful kiss on your lips, flattered beyond words. Her head gently makes its way down to your chest, and you feel the blankets pulling up around you both. In minutes you’re both back asleep, in each other’s arms.

You wake up at several other points throughout the next long string of hours. Each time you resolve yourself to get up, and each time the lure of her warm and soft body brings you back up against her. It’s impossible to tear yourself away from her. Every cushiony inch of her draws you in closer and closer, leaving you spooned tightly against her immensity each time you return to your slumber. On several occasions you wake to find her snacking, and you rub her tummy encouragingly through the haze of pseudo-sleep until she’s back curled up next to you and your combined breathing matches that steady relaxed pace again. This cycle continues more times than you can keep track of, and at one point when the moon is out again you’re sure you catch her writing a letter before rolling back over to you and pulling you closer.

You finally pry yourself out of bed an indeterminate number of days later. The sun is coming down from the afternoon judging by its position in the sky, and next to you Rarity sleeps soundly on her back, breath still heavy and steady. You’re forced to fight the urge to crawl back up to her warmth, but your limbs and eyes are protesting their extended period of disuse loudly. For several moments you stare up at the ceiling, wondering whether or not it’s not wiser to simply sleep until the next morning. It’s several minutes before your eyes stop stinging enough to force them open all the way, and the light assaulting your vision leaves a throbbing pain in your temples.
You’ve slept far too much recently, and though it takes a great deal of willpower, you manage to separate yourself from her in search of food. On your way out of the room you pick up your towel and wrap it around yourself, not sure which box your bathrobe is still packed away in, and not wanting to wake her by looking for a new pair of clothes amidst all your still packaged things. The muddy streak on the floor is still there, dried now and cracking under your feet. You do your best to avoid it and make for the kitchen. On your way there, you catch the front door, still ajar, and shut it gently.
With a yawn you survey the contents of your icebox. Some eggs gifted to you from Fluttershy that are sure to go bad if they’re not eaten soon. You pull those out, look about for the potatoes you bought days ago at the market, and begin to peel one as the pan on the stove begins to heat up. Whistling as you work, you skin and dice the potato carefully, cooking your eggs along with some of the vegetarian sausage you have in the freezer. The aroma is intoxicating, and before long your mouth is watering. You finish scrambling your eggs and take the sausage off, using the grease to make your hashbrowns perfect. For a brief moment you long for real sausage, but the last time this was suggested the discouragement from surrounding ponies was overwhelming. You’ve since managed to find a meat that wasn’t fish only a handful of times since your stay in ponyville began years ago.
It’s while you’re taking those hashbrowns off the skillet and turning off the stove that you hear the kitchen door open with a click. No sound of a hoof to open it, certainly magicked. Imagining Rarity’s surprise when she finds breakfast cooked, your mind races. This is good, you can feed her breakfast, cuddle at the kitchen table, and maybe afterward... The thought quickly strikes you that, though you’re not sure how many days you’ve slept, you’ve been many a day without sex now. You let the towel drop and spin, pan in hand, to smile at her. Instead, Twilight Sparkle comes into view as you turn, looking up from her open book just in time, and with a shriek she recoils and slams the kitchen door shut, putting a barrier between your aroused and naked body and her eyes. Her voice comes muffled through the other side.
“Y-your front door is... it’s open... and Rarity...well she asked for... Are you decent?”
You pick up the towel, hurriedly assuring her that you are as you rush for the door to quiet her down before the two of you wake the sleeping pony upstairs, but a thump above your heads alerts you to her rising from bed. You reach the kitchen door and stub your toe on the cabinet next to it, reeling off a string of loud curses as a series of loosely stacked and recently unpacked cast iron bowls, woks, and pans rains down from on top of the shelves onto your head with an incredible noise. You stumble back and hit the floor with a smack. Your vision swims slightly and you shake your head, trying to get your bearings. On the other end of the door you hear a shout and the door glows purple before flying open, smacking into your prone shins with a resounding “crack” and causing you to curl up with a yelp. Twilight bounds into the room to make sure you’re alright, but somewhere in the fall you’ve lost your towel again and she skids to a stop and turns around, running back out of the room shouting apologies. She barely avoids Rarity in the hall leading to the kitchen, who thunders past her and into the room, looking for the source of the problem before bursting out laughing.
“Are---- are you alright? Oh good heavens you gave me a fright.”
You sit up and pull the towel over yourself, flush flooding your cheeks as you grumble out an explanation.
“It’s alright Twilight!” she cries over her shoulder.
Twilight blushes uncontrollably as she trots back into the room, taking stock of it. Without a glint of notable concentration, her horn bursts into a soft glow and the room begins to arrange itself. Pots and pans fly to their respective cupboards, boxes are unpacked, silverware zips into drawers and in a matter of moments the entire room is unpacked.
“Is your leg alright?” She finally manages.
You look down to the shin you’re rubbing, and you’re sure it will be bruised. There’s no blood anywhere yet, and you’re fairly sure you’ve gotten out of it without any serious injury. Seeing this for herself, Rarity brushes past you to the foot on the table.
“You’re sure you’re alright darling? Awww, you were making breakfast for us? I married the best man, I just know I did.” You smile at her warily as you take to your feet. Twilight looks up at you. “S-sorry for coming in without knocking, but I really expected that-” She’s interrupted by your wife pulling plates magically out of the cabinets and lowering them onto the table, setting places for three.
“Oh Twilight, you’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You’ve been party to more than that between all of us at any rate!”
Twilight’s face takes on an even more crimson hue, and Rarity pushes onward, hoping to dispel the sudden awkwardness.
“Come share this breakfast here, Darling. Have you eaten yet? Just look, he’s made my portions far too big, you simply must have some. It’s the least I can do for having you over here on such short notice.”
Twilight looks carefully at anything but Rarity’s face as she sits in her seat.
“Yyyyyyeah. About that. Rarity, I know you’re nervous, but I just gave you a checkup this Tuesday. Are you really sure you need me again? It’s only been four days.”
Rarity pauses between bites of her sausage, forcing herself to swallow it; and now nervousness has shifted to the other hoof.
“Well, I... You see... Oh heavens, you do remember the walk you advised us upon, yes?”
Twilight picks at her eggs politely, nodding sagely with a smile.
“Well we sort of took your advise. We went hiking. And well, one thing lead to another, and we fell asleep on the mountaintop. When we woke well...”
She goes through the harrowing story of your escape from the storm and desperate struggle to keep one another safe. Not a single detail is omitted, though she glosses over your more intimate moments with polite throat clearing and subtle hand gestures. When she’s done Twilight’s not gotten a bite of her eggs, her smile has drooped to a shocked jaw drop, and you’re sure every plate on the table has gone cold but your empty one.
“Honestly I’m not sure where the storm came from. Was it scheduled?”
Twilight shrugs. “How would I know? But more importantly-”
“Well I just thought that... I mean, you and Rainbow Dash...”
Twilight frowns.
“Rarity, I don’t know everything that Rainbow does, and she was busy that day. Just what are you trying to say?”
“I just thought you might have known when you sent us out dear, I wasn’t trying to-”
“You DO know this isn’t my fault, don’t you?”
“Well no, I mean yes, I mean... I just didn’t know if you knew there was a storm planned for the afternoon. I certainly didn’t think there would be.”
“Well neither did I. And even if I had known, it was your choice to take those risks, Rarity.”
“Excuse me?”
“You two could stand to have a little more self control. I’m sure it never occurred to you that it was a little dangerous to do the things you did? It’s your eighth month. You could have been seriously hurt!”
This is stated matter-of-factly, but you think you can hear a bit of edge behind the purple pony’s voice.
“Twilight Sparkle, I’m surprised at you! This was all a tremendous accident. I don’t think it was anypony’s fault.”
Twilight’s horn glows its usual colour as she looks over Rarity for damages. You take this calm point to grab a washcloth and wet it down, wandering into the hallway to fix the muddy path coating the boutique’s interior. Their conversation carries into the corridor and up to you. Twilight’s voice follows hot on the heels of Rarity’s dismissive comment, the tone dripping with her characteristic sarcasm.
“Oh sure, it’s nopony’s fault. And everypony I know has to get this checkup, the one intended to be given once a month, four times in four weeks. Are you sure you’re ready for this? You two don’t seem to be settling down much.”
“Are you IMPLYING we’re not fit to be parents?”
“Well no, I’m saying that you’re not exactly acting like proper adults lately.”
“And what pony acts perfectly all the time? You and Rainbow Dash? You think yourself and Rainbow Dash would be fit parents?”
“Well, no. And yes. Yes, I think Rainbow and I could be good parents if we tried. But this isn’t abou-”
“Well then isn’t that just the biggest shame.”
Twilight’s voice drops as she challenges the notion.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me! You think Rainbow Dash would be a better parent than either of us? Still running off to do her work early and catching everypony in a thunder storm so she can go play pranks with Pinkie Pie at her age!?”
“Don’t you turn this onto Dash and me! You’re the one who makes these... decisions. And for your information, Pinkie Pie and Dash were out collecting things for YOUR stupid baby shower that afternoon, which is TODAY by the way.”
“Toda-? Well if it’s so stupid, I don’t expect to see you there!”
“Well maybe you WON’T!”
Twilight’s voice carries toward you and you see her rushing past you toward the front door. You cringe as Rarity follows her, head down, eyes locked in a fierce glare. Twilight reaches the door, which has swung open on its own again at some point during their argument, and pauses for a moment. She looks at the ground and swallows her anger long enough to spit out her parting shot.
“Your baby looks fine to me, Rarity. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe.”
“Fine.”
The door clicks behind her, and Twilight is gone from your home. Rarity swivels on her hooves and stomps into the kitchen in a huff. You stoop to finish wiping the last of the mud from the foyer and move to the stairs, hoping to give her a few minutes of cooling off before you approach her. This isn’t possible of course, as the the kitchen bursts into a cacophony of cookware smacking against the floor, and you drop your rag and hurry in to make sure she’s OK. You enter the room to a maelstrom of flying pots and pans and silverware. In the entrance to the kitchen her wild use of magic illuminates her hardened face, and you boldly step into the kitchen behind her with a whistle to grab at her attention. She whirls about, eyes finally settling on yours, all the cookware freezing before dropping to the floor with a deafening loud clatter.
She slumps as she looks in your eyes, afraid to examine the mess around her. Her voice comes out choked and strangled, and she’s shaking now in the aftermath of the argument.
“I didn’t like where she put our things.”
Now isn’t the time to mention that Equestria’s finest magician had expertly placed every dish down to the forks and knives exactly where it had been since you’d known your wife. You take to a knee and hold her face in your hands. She sniffles a bit.
“We’re good parents, right? We’re not... we’re not going to be bad?”
Your heart sinks. Twilight’s words ring against every insecurity you privately hold. Less than a month remains between yourselves and your biggest change. You feel yourself inwardly rail against the accusation once more, but then you picture what could happen if Twilight’s right. You picturing dropping your foal when carrying her, or her being hurt because you two are too busy fooling around. You shake your head to clear it, and you whisper assurances in her ear until her sniffles stop. You tell her that as long as you’re together, everything will be fine, but privately you know Twilight’s words have stung both of you deeper than your words can help fix. Her outsider’s perspective is more likely the truth than all the convincing you can ever manage for yourself.
Fixing her chin up with a nod after your pep talk, Rarity busies herself straightening the room, and you note with no small regret that she’s putting everything exactly back where it came from. You return to the stairs, and her shout reaches you from there over the clatter of things settling.
“Is it really Wednesday?”
Clattering and crashing.
“-been out for days! Pinkie Pie’s party must be only a hoofful of hours away!
More clanging and clinking of pots and silverware.
“-n’t be late, you know?”
A thunder of things settling down.
“-would reflect simply terribly upon the both of us!”
You finish cleaning the stairs just as she hurries past you with a mouthful of food, her plate hovering next to her.
“Now I’ve got to find something to wear. You should get dressed too, but I think you need a shower first.”
You nod, looking wistfully down the dirty hallway. She trots out of the bedroom with the plate and finally notices you scrubbing the floor. She scrunches up her face in concentration for a moment and the smeared hardwood cleans itself.
“There, that’s better isn’t it?”
You take to your feet and she looks at you and blushes. You realize you’re still clutching the towel to yourself, and you sigh. You’re certainly not feeling as mature as you assured her you both are, standing there with nothing else on. You move toward the bathroom and hop into the shower, still preoccupied with Twilight’s accusations. The fact that she could have been twice as stern crosses your mind, but even still she couldn’t have known how insecure you both are about raising your little foal. You wash the shampoo out of your hair and the temptation to stand under the hot water until it runs out almost consumes you. Still, you’ve not heard anything from the bedroom for a while, and she’s not come in and asked for your not-so-needed opinion on a single saddle or dress. You turn the water flow off and step out, drying yourself quickly and moving up the hall to the bedroom.

You’re greeted with a stack of dresses piled on the bed. She’s trying to get a saddle over herself, but the buckles are a good many inches apart, and she pants, looking none too pleased. She looks angrily up at you as you make your way into the room.
“It’s hopeless! I’ve not a thing that fits me. They don’t even MAKE things in my size. I’m as big as a train, and not a single one of my shoes fits anymore... I’ll be barehooved tonight. It’s positively scandalous!”
You look at all the tiny dresses heaped in a stack and back to her broad figure.
“Just LOOK at these disgusting flanks. The way they jiggle and flop around like pudding. You simply must be lying when you tell me it’s attractive, not a colt in the world would look at this and think it was something they wanted anything to do with.”
Without even paying it mind, she levitates the plate she was carrying earlier, and you see that it’s Twilight’s breakfast. She wolfs down several bites with barely so much as a single chew before exclaiming at you angrily.
“I’ve nothing to wear. I’m not going!”
You sigh, and pick up one of her favorite dresses, one she only wore a handful of weeks ago to dinner with Twilight and Dash. You’re sure that one still fits, though it might be a bit tight now. You offer it to her.
“Keep that THING away from me. I don’t want to be reminded of it.”
The night swims back to you, and you shrug off the memories of it. You pick up her favorite black cocktail dress, and look it over.
“Oh, that thing won’t fit me. I’ve told you, they don’t even make things in my size.”
You raise your eyebrow. She’s the finest seamstress in all of Equestria, and she can’t let out a beautiful gown like this in a half an hour? And who is “They”? You know for a fact -she- makes all her dresses. You rub her back encouragingly, hands trailing down to her meaty haunches, where you linger rubbing them for a bit too long. She continues to finish off the plate, and you imagine where it’s going, imagine briefly how thick her flanks and haunches and stomach might get if you could just keep offering her plates when she gets like this. Under the folds of your towel, you feel yourself growing harder. You try to distract her by telling her she should put her magic to work, and that she’ll feel better once she does. She nods after a few moments of assurances and takes it, paying no mind as you continue to vigorously rub her butt and will it through some miracle to put those calories she’s even now consuming to work immediately. “Come along and assist me then. We’ll have it done in minutes.”
You follow her, towel slipping off, manhood slapping against your waist as you walk. You don’t bother to pick it up, hoping to cheer her up if you’re careful. She sits down at her sewing machine and pulls together a roll of fabric. “Can you bring me some black thread, dear?”
You pick up the spool of thread and approach her bench, but then you pause, consumed with the possibility of the moment. With one hand you carefully level out your erection, and with the other you place the spool on top of it. The walk is slow and ponderous, and you almost lose it a number of times, but you reach her just as she turns around to see where you’ve gotten to.
“It’s in the- Oh. That.”
You thrust forward gently and she snatches the spool off quickly, trying to pay it no mind. Still, her gaze lingers, and she turns her head around to see if it’s still there. The sound of her sewing machine fills the room, and in minutes the dress is looking entirely different. A tape measure flutters on its own around her waist and hips before lowering itself down to the fabric. She makes a mark. You walk up behind her, pressing your body against the back of her chair, and drape your arms over her.
“I suppose you want a reward for being my helper today.”
You squeeze her shoulders in reply.
“Oh very well. Let me put in this last stitch line and we’ll see what we can do.”
You tap her on the shoulder and she turns.
“I said a minute dear, just a-”
You kiss her, gently. She melts into it, lips locking around yours with a surprising fierceness. When the kiss breaks, she looks up at you hungrily.
“Mmmnnn. You’re so impatient.”
You turn her, chair and all, and present you thickness to her face.
“This? You want this mouth?”
You nod and grit your teeth and she swallows you down expertly. She bobs her head up and down your shaft madly, obviously grateful for the distraction. As she works her throat roughly around the slickened pole, her hooves creep up your legs and grab your thighs. She attacks your member with frustrated gulps, eyes narrowed, frown growing more and more on her face as she increases in ferocity. You’re finally about to climax when she reluctantly manages her mouth off of you and gasps.
“No. No no.”
You look down at her bewildered, pressure in your lower body building, head buzzing with the need for release.
“Must be responsible. Come now, I still need to finish this and get my hair proper before we can leave.”
You sigh and start to tug on your throbbing member with your hand, deciding with little hesitation to finish up the job without her.
“No!”
You snap to attention.
“Absolutely not. It’s been days since you did that last, there’s bound to be... so much... you’ll waste... my workplace.”
The awkwardly worded sentence hangs in the air as you sigh and look at her for a moment hoping she’ll change her mind if that stiff part of you stays in front of her long enough, but behind her sewing glasses her eyes narrow as if daring you to move your hand back to its pleasurable grip. You look down at her sitting position and discover that she’s just as aroused. She’s holding out on you for some reason, and you’re fairly sure you can guess the cause. As she sees your eyes wander she closes up her legs.
“I’ve said no. You can... have that later tonight.”
She forces herself to swallow, avoiding your eye contact.
“We both can.”
You feel your hardness starting to subside and you reach out to hug her, but she pushes away with both hooves.
“Don’t. I know you’ll do it... You’ll get us both worked up and it will happen regardless of our intentions. Go put on some clothes, I’ll just take care of this.”
She watches you leave carefully and you quickly make your way back upstairs to the bedroom you both share. Your boxes are mixed with hers, and she’s already made a mess of the room and cleaned it once; dresses that were strewn across it having folded themselves as she left to do her work. Regretful that you’re forced to make a mess yourself, you quickly empty out a box onto the bed, finding a pair of slacks and some socks. Your shirts are in another box, and your shoes another. By the time you’re dressed, you’ve got boxes of things strewn everywhere. With a sigh, you begin to straighten the place up, longing for an ounce of her magic to help the cause.

Once the cleaning is done, you check your watch. You have a half an hour left until you need to be at Sugarcube Corner. The trip won’t take but fifteen minutes of walking, so you pick up your shoes in hand and pad down the stairs. You don’t mean to be quiet, it’s more of a habit than anything else. From the top of the stairs you can see the boutique shop floor, and the door leading back into her sewing room. The light is still on, and you wonder at how long she’s taking to let out a simple garment, something so easy for someone of her skill.

As it turns out, your approach is too quiet. As you get closer, you can hear her loud, rapid breaths. Through the cracked door you catch a glimpse of her hunched over her sewing table, breath coming in rapid furious gulps.
“Nnnnhhhh harder. More.”
You creep around the crack of the door, and discover her grinding her soaked lower lips against the edge of her sewing chair. The wood of it glistens with her juices and her voice comes out in ragged gasps.
“Know you like to watch me work... so much... so soft. You like these glasses? I’ll... I’ll keep them on. I’ll keep them on for you. Can see you so much better that way.”
She twists her neck as if looking at an invisible body behind her.
“More of those... precious good fingers... You know how much I love them... keep them in there, keep them in there for days. Ohhhhh”
Her voice rises to a crescendo and she looks around the room desperately for something before giving up and dropping into her seat, panting and wild-eyed. Wordlessly she gets up and trots quickly to the door, still breathing heavily. In a rushed panic, you duck to the side of the frame and press yourself against its wall, and she hurries out the door and toward the stairs oblivious to you. Her round haunches bounce with each characteristic ladylike step, so finely ingrained in her mannerisms even at the height of her heated lust. Finally she retreats into your bedroom before calling out for you, curious as to where you’ve gotten to. When no reply comes, you hear her begin rummage about in boxes.
You take the stairs as silently as you can manage and peek into the bedroom as she upturns boxes into a disorganized mess around your room. You’re shocked that she can be unbothered by the magnitude of the mess she’s making, and you realize your stealth isn’t terribly necessary, as she’s not exactly being quiet throughout the process. You watch as she produces a number of sewing mannequin parts before finally drawing out a hand. Her tongue lolls over each finger before she lays on her back on the bed and slides it into herself. You check your watch. Almost time to be going. You watch her as she rolls about on the bed with the hand sliding in and out of herself; too stubborn to admit to you what she wants, too worked up to go without it. Her moans slip out of the room and her heavy frame shifting rocks the bed.
A stream of profanity leaves her normally ladylike mouth, words you’ve only ever heard her use on a handful of occasions in your entire time knowing her. She’s fumbling with the hand and you can see it only has a few fingers extended, not nearly enough to escape her ever growing fetish regarding your one of a kind digits. Straining against your pants you grow hard watching her, and the ache to join her builds. You’re sure she would enjoy it, you could give her as much of your hands as she wanted, but you’re running out of time before you have to leave the house, and her promises of responsibility echo in your thoughts. Reluctantly you creep backward on the hardwood floor of the hallway, praying that you don’t step on a creaky board until you make it to the stairs.
Luck favors you as you reach them and navigate the stairs silently, slipping over the banister as soon as you can and dropping quietly onto the carpet. You’re not sure the stealth is needed with the amount of noise she was making upstairs as you creep back into her sewing room to make sure she’s finished her dress and discover it folded neatly. For a moment you examine it, impressed at everything right down to the folding of it on the table. There’s not a single wrinkle in it, the corners overlap perfectly evenly, the seams where she let it out and added to it are nearly invisible. You scoop it up and make your way as loudly as you can out of the back room, bound up the stairs with as much noise as you can manage, and slowly but heavily plod down the hallway. You’re almost at the end of the hallway when she jerks her head out the door of the bedroom.
“Oh THERE you are! Well, I’ve just been looking for you, you know? Disappeared, can you grab my- And I see you have it, perfect. Be a dear and help me into it while I straighten up the room would you? Heavens, we’ve only been home a few days and it’s already in a terrible state. Did you do this? This looks like the sort of mess you’d make. I suppose you couldn’t find those clothes -any- other way?” You smile, not worried about her hasty cover up, and apologize.
She straightens up the room again with her magic as you ease the dress over her head and she steps into it. The straps cross over her back and it cuts low down to her chest as you manage it snugly around her sides and over her haunches. Immediately she looks thinner, more sleek somehow in its dark confines. She bats her eyes up at you. Now she’s trying for a more smooth cover up, obviously still bent on hiding her obsession with your hands from you.
“I was looking for something to make you some new shoes, but I guess the ones you have on will do. They were made by a true talent after all.”
She forces a smile at you, and you scratch her behind the ears. You consider briefly asking her if she wants something else from you before you go, but decide to let her keep her dignity this time. She turns her head into your affectionate touches gratefully as you maneuver out the shop and into the evening.

Night is falling as you reach Sugarcube Corner, its lights bright and windows aglow. You can hear music and laughter from inside, and you’re suddenly taken by how inviting the place seems contrasted to the growing chill and dusk about you. Next to you she stands a little less firmly than usual, you can see the incline of her body directed back toward where you’ve come from. Gently you brush her hair with your hand, and she looks up at you, nerves disappearing.
“How many times must I tell you not to do that? A lady’s hair is not to be played with, I spend hours, -hours- every day grooming it.”
You shrug, unsure how she can make the claim. In the time you were in the shower it went from matted to cleaned and styled, without the aid of a single tool. Somehow it’s remained neat through her work, playtime, and having a dress pulled over her head.
“Oh fine, but it’s a work of art. Don’t -touch- it with those...”
She looks at your hands and back to your face, but her voice has lost some of its sternness.
“...those hands of yours.”
Glad to see her mind on something else, you lean a bit in her direction and stroke her neck instead. This prompts a grateful sigh, she straightens her posture and together you walk through the door and into the party.
***
The moment the door opens, the sound of music is doubled to your ears. Not too loud, but loud enough that ponies scattered about the room are capable of holding separate, private conversations; their voices lost to its background beat. Scattered about the front of the shop are streamers and balloons, powder pink and blue. Pinkie Pie leans energetically against the counter talking happily with Applejack and Fluttershy. You look about the room for Twilight, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Every pony in town must be in attendance somewhere though, and a cheerful voice greets you above the chatter and music.
“Oh welcome welcome. Let’s just grab those coats and have you sit down. You look well. Baby doing fine, dearie?”
Mrs. Cake addresses you from your right, leading you toward a couch and graciously taking your coats on her back. With but a small display of magic Rarity lifts them both gently off of her and they zip to the coat rack.
“Why Mrs. Cake, you’ve no need to be so formal. I couldn’t dream of making you carry them. Baby’s doing fine, Twi-Twilight says.”
You catch her look around the room nervously as she mentions her friend, perhaps afraid Twilight might spring out from under a lampshade or couch cushion and accuse her of saying something too kind.
Many ponies have begun to break off and greet the both of you now, and most ask the same question as Mrs. Cake. Each time it prompts the same reply, and each time she struggles when she reaches mention of her friend. After a few replies, you jump in to help her answer the question, flanked on all sides by well wishers and greeters. You hear her answer the question again, Mrs. Cake sitting at her side. Again Rarity answers in the affirmative. The older mare finally rescues her.
“Oh well, she would know wouldn’t she? Brilliant pony that one. Goodness me but the cupcakes are nearly done from the smell of things. Would you like to come help?”
“N-Yes. Yes actually. Coming darling?”
She looks at you as she hops off the couch, eager for something else to do. She’s attracted the gaze of many a pony, and more have begun to break off and approach the couch to greet the two of you properly. Together the three of you untangle yourselves from the crowd of well meaning ponies.
“Sorry, sorry everypony! I’ll be back, just helping Mrs. Cake with a bit of baking.”
She slinks out of the room at your side, and the kitchen door clicks behind you. You’re now standing in a rather large room, island countertop in the center surrounded on all sides by walls lined with counter space and cookware. In a nook there’s a small kitchen table where you imagine the cake family take their meals. At one of several ovens, Mrs. Cake is managing a pair of oven mitts and pulling out a tray. You watch her plump sky blue figure expertly handle the task, slipping tray after tray of the steaming confections onto the counter.
“Tea’s on the stove dearie, help yourself”
Rarity chances a glance over at the pot.
“Oh no, I couldn’t. There’s plenty of punch and things out there, I’m sure they’re simply divine. I wouldn’t want to drink your tea...”
“Nonsense, pick yourself up a cup and have some. It’ll help your nerves.”
“N-nerves?”
“Well of course. One doesn’t need to be a unicorn to see you’ve got a bad case of them. Something on your mind?”
The motherly mare slips off her mitts and begins to frost the cupcakes as she talks. Rarity settles at the table with a cup of warm tea, and hovers another over to you. You lean against the counter, blowing on it gratefully.
“On my mind, no. Heavens no, just nervous to be in front of so many good ponies, that’s all.”
“Oh? Ready to take the big step soon I hope?”
Rarity gulps her tea at the baby blue pony’s insight and chokes at its surprising hotness. After a fit of coughing, eyes still watering, she manages.
“Y-you might say that.”
Mrs. Cake determinedly continues to spread the icing and adds a hoofful of sprinkles, not looking over her shoulder to spare Rarity’s infamous dignity.
“Alright over there, child?”
You walk over and pat her on the back and she splutters out her words.
“Yes... yes fine. Ah- Mrs. Cake?”
“Yes Rarity?”
“You raised Pinkie Pie, of course?”
“Of course.”
“Well... was it difficult?”
Mrs. Cake turns and leans against the counter, wiping her hooves on her apron.
“Difficult? Yes. Scary, too. Little filly, so full of energy and so happy. She was a joy to raise. Not that it was always easy of course.”
“But you’ve never had to take care of a newborn foal before?”
“Oh my goodness no, one Pinkie Pie was work enough for the two of us. Not to say it can’t be done of course, but... why ask? Not getting cold hooves I hope?”
You pick up her teacup as soon as she drains it, moving over to the other side of the room to pour her another cup. As you set it down on the table, she plods on, to your surprise.
“Cold hooves no... but nerves, yes. Yes... I’m afraid that it’s been bothering me. I’m afraid I’ve become rather a witch lately for it too... I’d love to say it’s the hormones but I’m just... it’s nerve wracking. I don’t want us to do badly. This little foal deserves the best.”
As you move over to the entrance of the kitchen to return the kettle to the stovetop, you notice the door is slightly cracked. You approach it cautiously.
“I’ve said some terrible things to Twilight recently, and I just know I shouldn’t have. She doesn’t know what it’s like though, she doesn’t understand! I’m not ready yet, just not ready. And I’m sorry for what I said to her, but I’m starting to think I shan’t ever be... ready for this.”
You chance a glance back over your shoulder, and when you look back the door is no longer cracked. Was it your imagination, or a trick of the light? You shrug and lean your body against it as she gushes onward.
“Too much to think about, too much to change... will we still have time for each other? Am I a bad parent for hoping we’ll still have some time to be together? What if we really ARE poor parents?”
Mrs. Cake looks at the ceiling, likely unable to meet the awkward question with a direct look.
“Well, it’s always a possibility I suppose. But I don’t think you will be.”
“But what if we ARE?”
“Would somepony who doesn’t have the presence of mind to take care of her foal really be fretting about it now, with her on the way? You should have confidence in yourself Rarity. Both of you should. Heaven knows you won’t have much else when that foal gets here. I hear they take a great deal of time.”
This joke drops to total silence. Mrs. Cake smiles encouragingly, but Rarity looks pleased to finally get an answer, something she can latch her mind around and focus on.
“So that’s the trick to good parenting? Confidence?”
“Oh goodness me no! I haven’t been confident about a thing since Pinkie arrived on our doorstep what seems like just yesterday. Second guessed myself every step of the way.”
Rarity’s smile droops.
“But you have to let them think you do. They can feel it if you don’t trust yourselves. Think about your own for a moment, and they’re something to imagine; always had your best at heart, always had an answer.”
Rarity scrunches her nose and looks at her tea.
“Not... not particularly, in my case. But I do think I know what you mean. Make them comfortable? Act like I know what I’m doing?”
“Act like you know what you’re doing, and you might find you know more than you do.”
Mrs. Cake winks encouragingly, playing with one of her earrings.
“You’re a good girl Rarity, and you’ve married an excellent...”
She struggles to think of the word for what you are, but sighs and gives up.
“Well, you’ve got an excellent husband. Sorry dearie, sorry!” she glances at you and laughs her high nervous laugh. You fake a very obvious pout.
“Oh look, see? All these years and I still hurt a young one’s feelings from time to time!”
“Where do I get it, then?”
Mrs. Cake looks up as she’s interrupted by Rarity’s more serious tone. Your ivory pony has her cheek resting on her hoof and her brow is furrowed in introspection.
“Get what, dear?”
“Confidence. I don’t feel very confident.”
Mrs. Cake blushes, rising to rejoin the crowd outside.
“Well, Carrot’s always telling me confidence is in the bottom of a cupcake. But I sometimes think he just likes his mares thick and filled out.”
Rarity rolls her eyes before they settle on you playfully.
“Yes, I simply can’t imagine what it would be like to have a spouse who’s constantly pushing such sweet things off on you.”
Mrs. Cake reaches the door to the kitchen and you remove yourself your position propped against it. She looks over at Rarity with a smile.
“Well, you can help yourself to all the confidence you need, just be quick about it. We’ve a party going on out here for you!”
With that, she ducks out of the room, and you turn back to your wife. Rarity looks at you quizzically and takes a cautious bite of one of the cupcakes now cooling on the table. You watch each careful bite she takes. She rolls her eyes over to you and you sip your tea quietly, observing her. Finally she breaks the silence.
“Well? Come over here and sit down. I’m not ready to go out there yet.”
You slink into the seat across from her and slide her your cupcake as she finishes hers.
“What? You don’t want it?”
You shrug and pretend to act disinterested.
“Oh no you don’t. I know that look. You like this...”
She licks the frosting carefully off the top and chews the next one slowly.
“Oh GOODNESS. Mrs. Cake certainly can bake, these are just heavenly. She really has outdone herself.”
Your long reach extends to the counter where you pick up a now cooled tray of them, offering it to her.
“You want me to eat ALL of these?”
You offer her just one, and she sips her tea before beginning on it. In less than a minute it’s disappeared, and she’s starting on the next one you’re offering her. She carefully licks the frosting off her lips as she polishes off two more before sitting back in her seat.
“That’s enough of them, I think. I shouldn’t want to finish an entire tray.”
You nudge her hoof under the table with your foot encouragingly, and she narrows her eyes at you.
“No. Absolutely not.”
You slide one across the table to her carefully, distracting her with both feet attacking her hooves. She slides back in her chair to remove her hooves from your range and the sudden motion sends jiggles of flesh through her dress. She frowns as your hand has to adjust the growing hardness within your pants.
“You’ve nothing but a sex drive, you know that? Such a simple man.”
You lean across the table and nudge the cupcake closer in reply, and she swipes it up an chomps down into it angrily.
“This is the last one. The LAST one!”
Her stomach growls in disagreement, and the blush spreads all the way up to her horn. She sniffles a bit.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to behave? You know what Twilight said. We’re not acting like proper adults.”
You ease out of your chair and take up a stance behind her chair, draping your arms around her shoulders and pulling her back into your body chair and all. She twists her head to look at you.
“I’m just so worried, and the cupcakes aren’t helping.”
You reach down to retrieve it from her side, and she snatches it away from you.
“It’s mine, alright? I want to eat it. And... and I know you want to watch me eat it.”
You squeeze her shoulders with your hands and she slowly munches on it, looking up to you as she does so, managing smalltalk as she makes her way through it.
“I’ll never understand your tastes, honestly.”
She takes a bite.
“You weren’t interested in such things before.”
Another bite.
“Would you like me to look like Mrs. Cake, after the baby?”
The rest of it goes into her mouth.
“All that spare pony to love?”
You swallow hard and nod, the thought of her with some extra body mass even after the baby an entirely enticing prospect.
“I knew it.”
Her accusing tone snaps you back.
“You were looking at Mrs. Cake. Did you LIKE what you saw? Was it perfect and cushy and soft?”
You step back a bit, unsure what to say. You can’t explain why you find bigger ponies attractive.
“Well, there’s only one solution.”
She picks up a tray of cupcakes with her magic, advancing on you with a forced scowl on her face.
“You’ll feed me them. You’ll stuff every last one in, until I can’t take any more of them, and then you’ll put in more. So many, until you have eyes for nopony but me. Until you can tell me I’m pretty. I don’t care if I can’t move, you’ll spend the rest of your life rubbing this stomach and telling me just how beautiful it is.”
You don’t need to stuff her to tell her she’s pretty. You’ve known it all along, and she’s always been the most beautiful pony you’ve set eyes on. It was her who taught you just how much you enjoyed having more pony to love, truly taught you the fact, and you tell her so. Her advance falters, expression wobbling a bit.
“You did say such precious things the other night... when we cuddled in the moonlight. Don’t you remember?”
You remember it, and you’re dying to remind her that what she was starting and neglected to finish that night doesn’t count as cuddling in any pony’s books.
“Then... of course, I’m being silly. I’m the one holding back after all.”
You sigh a great burst of relief, glad she’s caught on to the fact. You walk over to the kitchen door and bolt it before unzipping your pants, certain her revelation will spark a renewal of interest. It doesn’t.
“Oh no. I’m holding my ground, you’ll not get a thing until tonight. Put that away and keep it away.”
Her stomach growls again, and you can hear it across the room.
“But... perhaps we CAN see to the cupcakes? It would be terribly rude not to sample all of Mrs. Cake’s baking.”
You scoop up a cupcake from the counter top and rush her with it, and she canters backward to put the table between the two of you, half-finished tray bouncing at her side in the air as she does so.
“No! Finish this one first! We have to finish this tray first!”
You hurry around the table and grab for her as bursts into a git of giggles and laughter, the tray of cupcakes hovering alongside her as she tries to maneuver her immense body away. Cornered against her own chair, you get to grab a handful of thick backside as she twists about trying to break free, slapping you playfully in the face with her tail. The fabric of her dress is soft and acts much akin to a pillowcase as your hand disappears into the massive expanses of her posterior. The other hand roughly manages to get some of the cupcake in her laughing mouth, the rest of it getting icing all about her face.
She swivels on her hooves and manages to meet your lips with hers, filling your mouth with sweet icing and soft warm tongue. You feel her gently probe the inside of your mouth, and your view of her disappears as you close your eyes, swept up in the sudden intensity of her lips. Where normally she contents herself with a single lengthy kiss, the hungry unicorn separates this one into a series of forceful lip locks that lap against your mouth until both of your breathing is heavy. Her hooves grope at your manhood through their cloth prison, and she fumbles with your belt. You manage your eyes open and take in the sight of her, so happy and comfortable once more. She blushes as her eyes open and meet yours.
“I’m beginning to believe Mrs. Cake. About- about the cupcakes that is.”
You take the tray from her side and lift one up to her mouth. She plops down onto her haunches and holds her mouth open as you gently help her manage each bite. Both hands are kept busy, one doing the feeding as the other carefully catches crumbs before they can slip onto her elegant dress. She finishes three and a half before she’s licking the icing from her lips and face, asking you to help her finish it. You slip the bite into your mouth and lean down, locking your lips to hers and pressing it into her mouth with your tongue. She resists your tongue with her own in surprise and both of your mouths fill with the sudden pressed together sweet taste. Rarity’s assessment of Mrs. Cake’s baking is spot on, and you savor the moist treat as your wife continues to play with the food within your mouths. Each licking of her tongue, each passionate desperate touch pulls away more of the sweet prize into her mouth, and by the end she’s practically lapping at your tongue with hers to get the last of the icing from it. As she breaks the kiss, you hold up another cupcake for her and her eyes widen.
“That’s the last one from the pan, yes? That’ll be a good dozen at least... not that you mind, you terribly naughty thing.”
You pop it into her mouth and her eyes close, consumed by the tasting of it. You know how badly she wants to lose her strength here, how much she wants to attack the half dozen more pans of sweet party treats around you, to strip your clothes off and cuddle against your body. Somehow you imagine Mrs. Cake’s invitation extends to more of them than you’d initially thought, and you take to your feet as she continues to savor the baked good within her mouth. As soon as she swallows, you’re offering another, and another as soon as that one is in her mouth. As she chews at the large amount you heft her into your arms and set her back in her seat, forcing yourself to behave as it groans under the load of white coated, black wrapped pony you’ve deposited upon it. As soon as she’s in her seat you’re hiking her dress up over her hips and bunching it up above her stomach so that you can get a clearer view.
Her stomach juts out in front of her, stretched taught as she reclines, hanging down between her legs now that she’s seated. She blushes and tries to say something between attempts to swallow, but you take her open mouth as an invitation and pop in another treat, forcing her cheeks to swell with the new mouthful. She looks at you poutily as she gulps them down and manages another, and another after it. Now she’s reclined completely, hooves rubbing her stomach as you help her finish off the second pan. Between her legs you can see the glistening of her lower lips, and she blushes as you stare.
“You can feed me a few more. Just a few more, alright? But you have to help me too. I want those... hands of yours, all mine.”
You gently rub her tummy with one, the other offering her what she asks for. She holds open her mouth and you deposit it inside, but she doesn’t stop there. Her lips wrap around one of your fingers and she begins to work her tongue across it. You gently tease her tongue with your probing digit as she starts to moan. Finally she pushes your finger out of her mouth and begins to chew the sweet your hand left there. As she swallows, she looks at you suddenly serious.
“Mrs. Cake was only half right. It’s not confidence, I daresay I’ve plenty of that... its you. You’re the confidence I need right now. Please stay close to me tonight.”
You smile and pull her into you, kissing her gently as she sniffles up against you. You try to pick apart her meaning, but she strikes with a seriousness entirely unexpected of the tender moment you’d just been sharing.
“We’ll be good parents if we stay together. That’s what you told me this afternoon, right? So stay next to me tonight and forever. Stay close no matter what. Don’t leave me again, don’t leave us like you tried to in the rain.”
You feel a sudden sharpness invade your posture and she carries on before you can put in your two cents, before you can tell her you’d rather be lost to her than lose her. The very thought is terrifying. Just imagining having to go on without her you feel almost as if you’re back in those waters, up to your neck in icy cold. You shiver for a moment.
“I know how you feel, and I’m scared too. I’ve been so scared since then... and I know you’re not good at talking about it, so I know I have to talk for both of us now. You don’t want to lose me, and I don’t want to lose you. But we can’t think that one of us is more important. We both have to live. Understand? No matter what, I won’t leave your side again.”
You rub away a tear that was springing into her eye.
“Now I’m not going to cry. I can’t cry tonight, people will know I’ve been crying.”
She forces an immense sniffle and blinks away tears again.
“Just know that for the rest of our lives, I want you by my side. I decided that when we got married, so don’t put me out of your reach, because you know you’d hate it if I did that for you.”
You swallow and nod, trying to think of a way to explain your side to her before she can continue, but she does, and the words pour out in a way you’d never expected.
“Don’t think that it’ll always work the way it did then, that protecting me from harm will protect the baby too. There’s going to be-”
You try to say something but she pushes at your chest with her hooves and looks angrily down her nose at you. She can’t force shouting, the words come out a hoarse choked hiss, one last attempt at maintaining perfect poise and control befitting a lady.
“Listen to me! Listen now! There’s going to be things... things we can’t always protect her from. You know it and I do too. Other foals, adventures she’ll have without us... but as long as she’s with us, we have to protect her together. She can’t... she can’t grow up without daddy, you understand me? She has to have you too, or it’s pointless. So stop it. Don’t run away from this, and I promise I won’t either. We’re not perfect adults, but we’re the best we can be, as often as we can be. You make me that. I could never be that without you.”
You’re stunned into silence, and your harsh rebuttal is forgotten. Your retorts about safety and statistics about better parenting stick in your throat. You know somewhere she’s right. You can’t boil it down to which one of you that you’d pick, it always has to be both of you. You know you’d be sorely outmatched parenting alone. The very thought of performing the task alone leaves your mouth dry, and your mind grinds to a halt as you realize she’s on the same page as you.

You’ve finally reached the conclusion that’s held you back ever since your brush with death in the mountains only a few days ago. It’s been an insecurity for far longer, which of you would be more important, but the courage and wit you each inspire your partner is finally, obviously, inseparable from the other. You brush her hair out of her eyes and whisper to her that you understand. That she shouldn’t cry, and she should never cry about it again. You’ll stay by her side to whatever end it sees. She nuzzles your face with hers, and where you expect tears there’s only a smile.

“This is it then, yes? After this it gets better? No more uncertainty?”

There’s a knock at the door behind you and she practically jumps out of her seat.

You pull her dress quickly back over her stomach and hurry to the door to remove the pan that bars it, awkwardly fumbling for an explanation of how it got there and what you’ve been doing. The door’s barely unlocked before it swings open, nearly colliding with your body as you step back hastily. Twilight Sparkle fills the small doorway, and Rainbow Dash’s sky blue hoof pushes her in before pulling the door shut. Twilight looks over her shoulder moodily and then her gaze is on you and Rarity.
“Rarity-”
“Good evening Twilight. I hope you’re doing well.”
There’s no sincerity in the thick unicorn’s voice as she wipes her face of stray frosting and tears. Twilight looks around the room, gaze determined to spot anything but Rarity at this point.
“I’m doing fine. Yourselves and the foal?”
“Physically fine, at least from what you tell me.”
“A-About that. This afternoon.”
Rarity looks at the lavender pony through narrowed eyes.
“Twilight, I know what you’re in here to say and it’s no use if Rainbow Dash makes you say it.”
“Makes me- She’s not making me say anything, alright? Stop ASSUMING things about us.”
Rarity seems on the verge of saying something, but she bites her tongue. She looks to you, and you move right to where you promised you’d be. If she and Twilight are going to choose here and now to fall out, she doesn’t have to weather it alone. She looks up gratefully at you before replying, uncertainly.
“I think that we’re both... guilty of assuming things, Twilight. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I do. I know you and...”
“Don’t say anything! Don’t talk about that, alright? Not here, not yet. We’re not ready, and I don’t know who’s listening.”
Rarity nods, prepared to finish what she was saying a bit more quietly, but Twilight gets the jump on her. The seal between them is broken by Rarity’s initial apology, and however irrelevant that apology might have been compared to the bigger issue of what was said in your home that afternoon isn’t as important as what comes next. Their eyes lock and it spills out into the quiet that had choked the room.
“I’m sorry for what I said.”
Twilight’s gaze never wavers from Rarity’s eyes as she manages it.
“I’m sorry because I’m your friend, and I shouldn’t say that. Any pony who works as hard as you did to protect your family, any pony who asks for help as often as you do, obviously cares about her foal.”
“That’s true. And you’re right, you shouldn’t have said what you did to us.”
You have to restrain the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth as Rarity spits the retort out.
“But you were right about something else also. There’s more to raising a baby than just wanting what’s best for her. You need wisdom and confidence, as I’ve learned all too recently. And what confidence I get robs me of wisdom sometimes.”
She looks up at you encouragingly.
“I’m glad to have a friend who can say what needs to be said, Twilight. Thank you so much for saying the things that must be hardest to say.”
Twilight’s amethyst eyes flood with tears and she blinks them back.
“Somehow I didn’t expect you to recognize that. How hard it is to tell one of your friends you think they’re irresponsible that is... But then, you did it too.”
Rarity cocks her head at Twilight’s outburst.
“When you mentioned Dash and Pinkie still pranking. And she and I aren’t much better when we’re- And we hide, and we don’t want to tell anyone, and we don’t know what they’ll say and-”
She’s pacing about the kitchen now, eyes fixated on the ceiling. Rarity eases out of her chair and the heavy click of her hooves on the tiled floor brings her to Twilight’s side. Ponyville’s lilac coloured scholar slumps her shoulders as she buries her head into your wife’s abundant and soft side, sniffles managing out as she rambles on.
“And I don’t know what my family would say or hers, or how long she’s felt that way about mares, or just how long she’ll keep feeling for me, or if I’m the only one she’s ever felt for, and if she wants to settle down ever like you two have done, or if that’s even possible. And if I’m not ready, and if she’s... just as scared.”
Rarity shushes her and her horn takes on its soft ruby-quartz coloured glow. You watch as a tray of cupcakes hovers over to Twilight’s side.
“You know what I find gives me courage? A nice cupcake or two.”
Twlight sniffles and look around the room at the three scattered and empty cupcake pans.
“Were those you? You must have needed a-”
Sniffle.
“An awful lot of courage.”
She takes a cupcake as you all chuckle at the joke. Rarity picks up on it and continues forward toward the kitchen door, wiping her friend’s eyes.
“Well, I have discovered of late that the cupcake isn’t as important as the person who gives it to you. I do believe we find all our confidence when we are safe... Safe among our friends.”
She stresses the last word. Twilight halts in front of the door takes a napkin you’re offering her and blows her nose before laughing at the lesson.
“Dear Princess Celestia?”
Twilight nods in agreement.
“Dear Princess Celestia.”
The two of them laugh at the joke and you usher them out the door and into the party.

The rest of the night hurries past you. Rarity takes her place next to you on the couch, and her closest friends surround it. Behind your heads Applejack leans over, occasionally remarking upon a gift somepony has given both of you for the baby. Squished into the couch beside you two are Twilight and Dash, the latter of whom sits half on the arm of the sofa. At your feet, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie sit on their haunches, and the girls give boisterous laughs whenever one of them stumbles upon a particularly fond memory or recent occasion. Together you all coo over new things for the baby, from toys to clothes to blankets to silverware. As the party winds down, Pinkie Pie shuts off the music starts to clean up with the Cakes. Rarity is marvelling over a particularly fine set of baby sized silverware, and Twilight reclines exhausted with her head on one of Dash’s flanks. The Rainbow maned mare is hard at working disguising her pleasure at having actually solved a problem that was bothering her partner earlier, and positively beams as Twilight hands the two of you both of their gifts.

Rarity carefully unfolds the wrapping from a book gifted by both of Ponyville’s finest, and she smiles as she discovers that it’s a parenting question and answer book. She sets it gently on the ever growing stack of things in your lap before working at the envelope that came with it. Before she can, Dash’s voice cuts in.
“This... this isn’t really fitting for a baby shower, I know. I just- Well, we thought, y’know, you should be there for it.”
The envelope contains a pair of tickets to a crafter’s exposition in Canterlot this coming weekend.
“Since the baby’s coming in just a few weeks, we thought you should probably drum up some business for the Boutique.”
Twilight cuts in now.
“And well, this just seemed appropriate...I mean, because, well...”
Twilight fumbles over her words past this point, and ends up blushing as Dash laughs and hugs her girlfriend.
“Ohhh Twilight, you go right ahead and tell her why sharing’s so-”
“Rainbow-”
Your wife’s voice interrupts.
“It’s an honor Twilight. We’d love to go. Are you sure it’s alright though? They must be so hard to come by!”
Twilight breaks from her faux lover’s quarrel to offer Rarity’s a sincere smile.
“Yes. You’re the perfect pony to go. I just know you’ll both enjoy it.”
“Oh I simply can’t wait! I hear the expo-ball is particularly beautiful. Can you imagine? Dancing all night, a five star hotel, and the next day- oh to speak to some of the designers and craftsponies!”
Rarity pulls Twilight and Dash into a sudden hug you wouldn’t have thought possible but for the angle her sunken seat on the couch affords around her swollen stomach. The other two return the embrace somewhat awkwardly, not used to handling the expected delicacy of an eight months pregnant unicorn. You watch enviously as she leans forward to extend the hug and her dress bunches up at the sides.
The need to have her up against you grows suddenly and unexpectedly. You gently tug on the straps of her dress, and she twists around to find your hand resting on her stomach. You expect her to look at you unfazed, the ritual of pressing one’s hoof to her belly having become commonplace as the night went on and well-wishers surrounded the couch. There’s an inkling of surprise as you remember how much your hands affect her, and blush creeps into her.
“Twilight, Darling?”
Twilight Sparkle looks up from where she’s reclined against Dash’s flank once more.
“Something on your mind, Rarity?”
You shush her and form the question the way you want to, and she silently reclines and allows her tummy to be rubbed. You tell Twilight that Rarity’s horn was very sensitive recently, despite not normally being so. Could there be a reason it came and went?
Twilight thinks for a moment before looking about the nearly empty room. Pinkie, Applejack, and Fluttershy have retreated to help Mr. Cake clean up the kitchen, and only Mrs. Cake remains in the room, gathering up streamers and humming to herself obliviously. In a sudden motion, Twilight slips her hoof up against Dash’s back and into the fold between her side and her wings. You hear a sharp intake of breath and Dash barely suppresses a moan.
“Unicorns and Pegasi sometimes exert themselves too much, whether it’s athletics or magic. It’s no different than if anypony works a certain muscle too hard... But it’s different for everypony, some ponies have their feelings mixed up there. What should ache or hurt feels good or thrilling. If you work it out that way too often, the tenderness can be present throughout the day. As you can see...”
her voice trails off as she slips the hoof around again and Dash grinds herself against the arm of the couch involuntarily. None of this is helping you quell the rising lust for the thick pony at your side.
“If you did the kind of magic you told me about... well that’s pretty big stuff, Rarity. It’s possible your horn might be tender after. It’s also possible it might give you a better workout than running about at this point. Just look at me!”
Twilight leans back, barely a hint of pudge on her. It’s a shame in your opinion, she and Dash are both so sleek and fit. Too fit, if you had your way; but you sneak a hand over to your wife’s flank and grip a handful of it while the other two are occupied. Rarity’s face has taken on a rose colour at this point, and covering her embarrassment she twists around and pecks you on the lips.
“Woooo!”
Dash fumbles around on the arm of the couch, making fun at your wife’s sudden lust. You pull Rarity over to you as soon as the kiss breaks, remembering what happened the last time things escalated around Twilight and Dash, and not feeling particularly like sharing again. Twilight watches the motion and smiles at you.
“I think it’s time Rainbow and I got going. Are you two going in our direction? We’ll walk you to your doorstep.”
You’re not sure if she’s trying to muscle in, but Rarity straightens her hair up and nods.
“It would be our pleasure to have the company. Just to the doorstep though, I’m positively exhausted.”
Twilight and Dash walk you toward the house at roughly the same time the rain starts. At first it’s just a couple drops, but before long it’s pouring down on all of you. Normally she’d run for shelter and try to cover her hair, but now Rarity walks steadily at your side, occasionally glancing up the heavens. Dash halts several times to survey her handiwork, and Rarity seems on the verge of saying something about the frequency of the rain. You reach the boutique relatively wet and personally quite cold. Dash and Twilight continue onward toward the library with speed, and disappear into the darkness of the night after quickly wishing you well. Rarity fumbles with the lock on your home, and you chance a look over the tall building. Never have you been so pleased to be a homeowner, never have you been so privately content to be in control of your life and residence as you are now, finally getting out of the frigid rain.

She swings the door open but stops you with a hoof and points at your shoes. With a grumble you take them off in the doorway, trying to determine how she avoided the same mud puddles you stepped in without ever leaving your side. You feel her nose bump up against your hand, and notice that she’s appraising your ring hand. Expecting her fetish for your hands to be acting up again, you hold it out carefully for her, wondering what naughty teasing method she has in mind for that poor limb. Instead she scrunches up her face and the ring bursts into light. You feel yourself dragged bodily into the room, and the front door slams shut behind you, blocking out the last light of outside and leaving only her horn and your hand to illuminate the darkness around you. In the otherwise lightless room shadows play into her face and loom up around you as she narrows her eyes, finally in control of your entire body, lifting you into the air with a bit of effort.
“Nfff... been waiting all day. It’s my own fault, of course.”
You float up the stairs, body glowing, the steady thud of her heavy hoof falls signalling that she’s following you.
“Oh the things I’ve wanted... and you, so naughty in Mrs. Cake’s bakery.”
Your arm clips the edge of the hallway and you wince, sure it’ll bruise. She’s in a hurry, and if she notices, she says nothing.
“Will you be good to me tonight?”
You’re about to say something when the words stick in your throat as you tumble head over heels in the air. Suddenly the magic around you crumbles, and you slam onto the bed with a thud and creak of mattress springs. You can hear her exhausted panting as she approaches the bed, massive body undetectable in the dark but for the considerable noise she’s making while moving.
“I want it... so badly, right now. Hard, and rough.”
Lightning flashes and illuminates the room, followed by a sudden tear of thunder. She screams and leaps onto the bed, knocking the breath out of you as she lands her back hooves onto your pelvis and front hooves onto your stomach. Instinctively you jerk upward and push her off of you and onto her side. Over your groaning you can hear her. She’s reeling off excuses and apologies when the lightning and thunder come again without warning, and through the haze of confusion and pain shooting through your lower body, you feel her considerably large figure shuddering up against you.
“Lights! LIGHTS!”
Light bursts from her horn and she gropes about in the sudden glare for the lamp. You manage to uncurl from your foetal position and find her fumbling with the switch. There’s a clicking sound and the room is bathed in a soft warm glow.
“S-sorry... Oh your poor... Oh GOODNESS!”
She rushes over and tries to pull your hands away from where you’re cupping your now aching member.
“Let me see it, I can... I can help, let me make sure it’s ok!”
You shake your head at her and groan again. The pain is subsiding and she all but missed the mass of it, but guilting her a bit can’t hurt your chances for some tenderness in lieu of whatever she had planned. Her eyes narrow and she focuses her magic on you again. Your hands are thrown aside and pinned to the bed, and despite your struggling she completes the spell and wiggles your trousers down, freeing your stiffening cock. She cups it with her hooves and begins to stroke it lovingly.
“Poor thing... I didn’t mean to... will you still be good to me tonight?”
Slowly she coaxes life back into it, and gives a triumphant “Wuahaha!” as it grows hard in her hooves. You try to free your arms again, but she pins them down with more difficulty this time, the exertion beginning to take its toll on her as she pants.
“Stop struggling! I want it tonight!”
You want it tonight too, and you tell her so.
“I... you GOT your fun, today, in the bakery. And honestly, trying to pull this out in there? Shameful. Simply shameful. No, I think tonight we’ll just leave it in. No thrusting, or anything of the sort.”
You manage to pry your hand off the bed and she looks warily at it, increasing her concentration until its approach toward her is painfully slow. Your muscles ache as you fight her magic, but slowly you begin to overpower it. She slaps your arm roughly with her tail.
“No! You may... You are ALLOWED tonight, to use those as I see fit. Understand?”
Not sure why she’s being so difficult, you flex again and find your whole body pressed harder against the bed. Unable to stop your individual limbs through focus, she’s settled for forcing your figure as a whole into the mattress. She leans her head into you and whispers in your ear.
“Put your fingers in me, and you won’t get hurt, Prince Charming.”

She turns her body about and settles her mouth around your erection. To her credit she’s mindful of its slight soreness from the earlier accident, only taking the head into her mouth at first and gently probing at it with her tongue. It’s a treatment you only get from her on very rare occasions, more subtle than her usual aggressive approach. You feel the tongue lap at the underside of your tip, probe gently at the entrance, slide around and over it. There’s a small ache as she gently presses it up against the roof of her mouth and holds it there, set firmly between the strength of her tongue and the firmness of her hard palette. Remembering her request vaguely, you test out your arms. They’re free. Before she can protest, you grab a handful of her meaty haunches.
They’re immense, and your entire hand disappears into one, the softness of her coat and the cushiness of her rear inspiring you to flex your hardon in her mouth. It aches a bit to do so, but she pulls her mouth off of it and looks around the immensity of her body at you. “Such a bad man... Are those big flanks so distracting? Your lady had a request for you.”
She suddenly forces her body backward and up against your face. You push your tongue into her, driving her forward on the bed with the unexpectedness of the assault on her labia. She grips hooffuls of sheets and cranes her neck up to the ceiling, her moans of pleasure filling the room and spilling out into the boutique. As you force your tongue into her you smack at her flanks with both hands, sending her thick buttocks rolling around your face. She bites down on the sheets in front of her to avoid crying out and you increase the pace and strength of your spanking. She loses her grip on the bed and flails desperately about with cries to keep going. You slow to a stop to tease her but she’s already over the edge. She gropes helplessly about on the bed, rolling onto her side and rubbing her stinging posterior and sopping slit until you watch her cum. She rolls her head over to you and manages to pant out words.
“You’re so... so bad. Mmmmnnn... so very bad tonight. What put you in such a mood? Was it the foreplay and the snacks? Hmmm?”
You grab her still sore flanks and squeeze, pillowy softness abundant.
“Would you like them bigger? I know you would. We’ll trade. Stuff me later. Give me your hands now.”
You slip a finger into her and she immediately grabs the other hand, greedily licking at it, eyes wild with sudden want and lust. She sucks on your fingers for a few moments and you ease another digit into her, prompting the opposite hand’s release.
“Oh give me more of them.”
Familiar with her request, you push in two more, and the suddenness leaves her moaning and pushing your spare hand onto her face. From behind your palm you hear her positively shout.
“Squeeze my face!”
Her face? The beautiful face she prizes so dearly? You give a gentle squeeze and you feel her tighten her womanhood around your opposite hand.
“HARDER!”
Still cautious you squeeze again, not sure what she wants this for. Magic bursts into being suddenly in the room, and your hands are working on their own. The hand inside her is folding at the thumb and sliding all the way in, and you feel each finger on her face contract until she’s groaning. Twilight’s words ring in your ears and you wonder if she doesn’t enjoy a bit of soreness. The idea sparks a thought in you, and you pull your free hand back with all your strength. She whines in protest and gives her spell everything she’s got. Before long the magical tug of war ends, both of you on your sides panting. She crawls toward you and forces her lips against yours, kissing at you furiously. You contract your busy hand into a fist inside her and she groans and melts into your arms. The other hand begins to stroke at her horn, obviously sore from the tug of war. You can feel the tightening around your hand, see the hunger in her eyes as she pulls herself quickly off your hand and mounts you.

She’s much bigger than the last time she took up this position all those nights ago in front of your apartment fridge. Now the weight is heavy on your legs, and her stomach juts out in front of her and all the way up to your chest. There’s a veritable mountain of gut between you two now, the weight of it resting on your torso almost half equal in your mind to the weight she’s put on your legs. You marvel at how enormous she’s become, and she rests her taught cupcake filled belly on you, working herself onto your manhood with a bit of effort. She lifts herself up and drops unceremoniously down, the cushiness of her thick haunches easing the blow for both of you.
You watch as the many inch drop leaves every piece of her body quaking and jiggling. She lifts and drops again, increasing her pace steadily. You begin to help her up and down until she’s moving at a pace that leaves you gritting your teeth to hold on, and her bucking her hips desperately for more. You manage to get your thumb on her clit and she tightens around you in thanks. You flex yourself inside her as a reply, and she picks up the speed until her cries of pleasure become one, steady, low note. You can feel the orgasm welling up, can feel the culmination of her hard work finally coming to climax. What follows is a flood.
You cum with incredible force and volume, days of denial finally filling her insides with warmth and sticky wetness. Her note of pleasure rises until it’s a high pitched cry, only interspersed with gasps for air and begging for you to fill her up. You do precisely that and then some, unloading an outrageous amount of your semen into her. She slides off the slick pole and flops onto her side, and you crawl toward her on your knees, feeling more and more shots of hot cum welling up and spurting out.She thrusts her tongue out invitingly, trying feebly to catch them. Some stronger bursts fly across the length of the bed as you traverse it, but you finally manage to get pointed at her face and she clamps her mouth over the gushing source and begins to gulp and smack greedily. You rub her horn as she does so and you hear her legs begin to kick. Stubbornly, she stays clamped onto your member as you feel another surge explode out and into her mouth. She guzzles it down hungrily and looks up at you for several moments. Finally she pulls her mouth off and looks down at it curiously.
“It’s still hard... can you... go again?”
You’re not sure, it’s been a long time since you went this long without some form of release.
“Is there more of...”
She licks her lips for more traces of it, finds them, and smacks her mouth with satisfaction after a series of grateful swallows.

And without finishing her request, she’s back wrapped around the head, tongue hanging out and massaging the length of the shaft. It’s not as tidy as her usual blowjobs, often veering off to the sides of her mouth and pressing out her cheeks, as if she’s trying to work every angle and get each precious drop of your seed onto her tongue. The pleasure is unbelievable, still riding on the edges of the last still receding orgasm. She relents only long enough to flop onto her side and spread her legs invitingly.
“I know this isn’t the most ladylike way but... But I know what you want. I know how you want it now. You want me like a proper call-filly. Here I am... Come now... my womb full of our foal, stomach stuffed with sweets, thick haunches swollen with desserts, fillyparts just fit to bursting with your handiwork. Not a part of my body is empty, and here I am, wanting... more. Fill me up with more.”
Her voice drops to a husky growl, her dirty talk working its way through your mind. She knows your fantasies, but you know hers also. You force your hand back up to the wrist in her loosened lower folds. The surprise move elicits a squeal and she pulls you down around her tummy, trying to reach your mouth with hers, face inches from your own. She thrusts her tongue out as a last resort and you meet it with yours, spare hand helping her onto her hooves. Slowly you ease her into the new position, and she flicks her tail aside with a small sigh of contentedness, inviting your manhood to take her other hole.
You look about for some means of lubricant and are about to settle for the already slickened hand, but as you withdraw it it’s too much for her. Her forelegs buckle completely, and juices gush forth from her love tunnel. From her mouth she makes a noise akin to a balloon deflating and her face buries into one of the pillows on your bed. You can hear her sigh turn to a cry of surprise as you thrust into her womanhood at that precise moment. You bury your thickness to the hilt as she squirms around it. You couldn’t ask for better lubrication than the gushing geyser of liquid she’s producing, and you slide a couple fingers into the pucker of her ass as you continue to thrust into her still squirting privates.
Her stream of juices continues to spray around the bed until it slows as a gentle trickle down your thighs as you reposition yourself, pulling out of her lower lips and sliding gracefully and slowly into the hole above. You can hear her crying into the pillow, and you gently tug at her mane until she turns her face to you.
“I’m fine... so... too much... incredible... Please...”
You thrust experimentally and she half laughs half whimpers.
“I never knew it could feel this good. It’s so good.”
You can’t argue. You’d have never expected the sensations gripping you as your reward for holding out the last two days. Every inch of your member is at its maximum sensitivity, still ringing with the echos of your last uninterrupted victory. You begin to thrust and slip one hand back down to her womanhood, rubbing at her clit. She has to bite the pillow to avoid drooling, eyes rolling upward. Tears build at the corners of her eyes and even through the improvised gag you can hear her practically screaming in ecstasy. Minutes of furious pounding pass as you reach a clapping thundering beat that fills your spacious bedroom. Liquid continues to trickle in spurts from her privates, bearing with it remnants of your seed. The working hand becomes slick and sticky with your mingled juices, and you slide it back into her up to the wrist. You feel her convulse around you, hooves narrowly missing your body as she kicks with them in alternating desperation. Her horn bursts into light and without warning your ring hand grabs her mane and forces her face deeper into the pillow as she kicks and bucks.
You keep thrusting, body aching, manhood throbbing. You can feel it building up as a dull ache in the back of your testes before it thunders out, coating her insides with hot white fluids. She squirms and moans as she cums around your hand, losing her control over your grip and unable to maintain the concentration. She manages to scream desperate words from her buried position.
“Coming again! I’m. Coming. Again! Keep pushing! My neck! Oh my neck and horn!”
You grab her head and push her roughly into the pillow with one hand, other hand jerking at her horn furiously as you would your own manhood. Around you she kicks and bucks desperately, sheets and pillows flying everywhere. She shreds at her own pillow until she rolls over and it flies out of reach. You force her face into your chest and feel her bite down hard as she cums in your arms. You flop onto your back with her in your arms, both breathing heavily. Every now and then with a less than subtle squirting noise more of your co-mingled juices spurt onto the now bare mattress from her body. She’s played container to all manner of both your liquids tonight and the bed around you is covered in stains to prove it. You rub the most important container of all, and she relaxes slowly, panting as you massage her tummy.
“So perfect... together, we’re so perfect. You see? Never go anywhere. Never leave my side.”
You kiss her horn, and she moans.
“S-suck on it... just a little bit.”
You look at her awkwardly, not sure you’ll be good at it, but you lick and massage at it with your tongue. Her eyes relax and close, and her breathing steadies in your arms.
“Now, like I do for you.”
A bit uncomfortable with the role reversal, blush fills your cheeks.
“I’ll not tell darling... please, just for me?”
Reluctantly you start to bob your head up and down and she rubs her sides as her breathing quickens. You’re not sure what’s supposed to happen, but your eyes are drawn to the womanhood she’s desperately trying to reach with her hooves. You’re amazed she can still possibly be in the mood, your own member having finally calmed; when with an unceremonious grunt you watch as she tightens herself, squirting the last bulk of your liquids out onto the bed. She looks away, face a bright pink.
“It was... supposed to not... I mean... not that. Oh... No no... Please no! Don’t look at me.”
You kiss her horn gently once more, moving down to her forehead, and then her lips. She clenches her hooves against your shoulders and you pull her in closer to you. You rock her in your arms gently as her hormones do a full reversal and she’s left in tears. They progress into full blown sobs as she clings to you for reasons you’re fairly sure have nothing to do with the state of the room or her dignity anymore. You shush her, rubbing her back and kissing at her forehead encouragingly, trying to think of what to say. Your mind wanders to what she’s truly crying about, and you feel tears sting at your own eyes as you appreciate the magnitude of what you hold in your arms. Everything, anything you could ever really care about, here in between these two arms, tied up in this fragile sobbing pony. With a sniffle she wipes her eyes and looks up at you.
“Y-what? You’re not ss-supposed to cry. Bad... that’s bad.”
You try to blink away the tears, but instead one escapes and rolls down your cheek, and her sob transforms into a chuckle.
“You’re... you’re silly. It’s alright. Real gentlemen can cry too. I won’t tell. I stepped on you, and it hurt.” She’s interrupted by a sniffle. “S’what we’ll tell everypony.”
You laugh suddenly at her poor excuse and another tear escapes as you wipe your face and hers. She looks away, trying to spare your feelings. Finally she returns her gaze to you as you finish straightening yourself up.
“Room’s a mess too... needs fixing. Get up! I need to fix it.”
She pushes you off the bed gently as the spots on the sheets right themselves. The mattress cleans up in seconds thanks to her magic, and the sheets begin to tuck and fold themselves. Pillows float into the room, mending as they soar onto the bed. Task complete, she looks up at you.
“Help me into bed, prince charming?”
You scoop her up with much difficulty and she giggles. Even as your back protests you know how much she loves that you can still manage the feat, and you ease her down onto the bed, thankful that you didn’t have to go more than a couple steps. She reclines on her side, tail flicking lazily about as you crawl into bed next to her. With a click the lights go out and you feel her body snuggle up to you. You whisper that you love her, and she kisses at your neck before whispering back to you.
“I love you too.”
Outside the wind whips angrily, but in each other’s arms you ride out the storm; at last without notice, drifting off closer toward sleep and the future you want with the partner you love. In your arms her breath steadies and she kisses at your neck again, and again. You lay a kiss on her horn, eliciting a murmur’d “Mmm” and earning you a hoof around the side. You rest your own hand on her side, arm resting gently on her tummy. In your arms she shifts closer, pressing her body against yours, tummy joining both of you as together your family of three falls asleep in a warm embrace to thoughts of the many days still ahead of you.