Magnum Opus

“Don’t get mad, get even. Trust me. You'll feel a lot better.”

Pearl swirled her tea around with a spoon, tapping the tarnished silver to free a few drops from its bevel. Revenge: not always the best policy, but it did seem like it would make her feel better. The tea tasted bitter. Pearl levitated three more blocks of sugar into her cup, dropping them one at a time. She leaned back onto the couch, sipping away. The parlor being the perfect room for a little gossip.

Mrs. Cake continued her musings. “It’s what I do after Carrot cheats on me.”

“He cheated on you?” Pearl parroted. Mere coincidence a close friend would be victimized the same way she had?

Cup Cake had to chuckle, “Of course he does dear. Don’t think after three weeks without sex I wouldn’t be suspicious. I'm not stupid, he’s a stallion after all.” Mrs. Cake decided to reach into the basket for another cookie, “You know at first I thought that it was me,” she bit down, allowing the edge of the confection to tumble into her mouth, “but then I caught him banging Chocolate Chip. Speaking of, did you know we had another assistant before we hired Pinkie?” she seamlessly filled in the gaps to her story.

Pearl raised an eyebrow at the revelation, sputtering and spilling a little tea on the rug, thanks in part to the distraction. Mrs. Cake waved it off, dismissing the importance of filling in this 'Chocolate Chip's' backstory.

“Anyways, she was just a cute little thing, and the first time I caught them in the kitchen, I was furious. I thought- how could he do this to me? I’m his loving wife, don’t I satisfy him anymore? But I didn’t let on that I knew. After all, maybe it was my fault. I had been packing on the pounds recently. So I convinced myself that I could win back his affection. Diet and exercise followed, I even tried being more adventurous in bed,” the mare rolled her eyes and motioned toward her plot-hole.

She then scarfed down the last bit of cookie, quickly reaching for another. As she leaned forward, the pronounced blue paunch at her waist impeded her progress. Clear evidence dieting and exercise had not produced the desired results. The chair creaked under the strain.

“The second time it happened, we fired her. But at that point I knew I was just being naive. It would happen again. The temptation was there. Sure enough, weeks later we hired Pinkie. I suspected what it was really for... More than just eye candy.”

Divulging her tragedy made Mrs. Cake smile. She could see Pearl going through the same stages of grief. When the blue baker first arrived denial pervaded. But gradually it was replaced with doubt and soon, she hoped, acceptance. Tea continued to drain out of her host’s cup. Mrs. Cake eagerly refilled it and offered another cookie. Eating was some small comfort in these types of situations. At least it always made Cup Cake feel better. The baker was glad she could be here in her friend’s time of need. She could guide Pearl. Help her avoid making similar mistakes. Maybe even strengthen their bonds over their mutual misery? The baker kept talking, wanting to get to the first step in what she dubbed 'the recovery scenario.'

“There’s only one cure for a situation like that. And you know what? I assure you a dick never felt so good. Mindlessly getting pounded, being the focus of somepony’s lust as they consummate their fantasies. It makes you feel powerful, beautiful, and most importantly: desirable.”

Now Mrs. Cake was salivating over more than the cookie. Liking her lips in hunger, but for what, Pearl was unsure. The proposition was tempting. Arousal burned into the cushion beneath the unicorn housewife's bottom. She hoped it wasn’t leaving a mark.

Without giving Pearl too much time to mull it over, Mrs. Cake offered a suggestion, “Maybe I can help you with your own problem? Y’know there are certain places a mare can get serviced.”

All the appeal of make-up sex without the hassle. And Cup Cake was right: there were plenty of eligible stallions around. Pearl imagined the willingness of a fresh colt at her backside. A sniff of her tea's bitter aroma produced a picture: the excitement of taking in his scent, allowing hers to overpower him as well. The two strangers would enjoy the heat of each others arousal for the first time. Licks would furiously batter her labia, spreading her secretions around her inner thighs. Pearl would wrap her lips gingerly around his shaft and greedily start sucking for her meal.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Cup Cake suggested, popping the last of the chocolate-chip treats in her mouth and rising to go to the door.

Pearl moved off the couch to follow. Noticing, as she left, it was stained.

- - -

Rarity sat, orders piled on the table in front of her. It was impossible to focus. All day hours trickled by one at a time, and what had she done? About ten stitches and a stencil outline of the latest fashion? That wasn’t going to cut it for a day’s work. Thread and spool dropped to the counter as once more she looked to the door of the boutique. Since it was Sunday, the shop was closed, so she wasn’t expecting any customers. But still, she was waiting for somepony.

“Oh, I hope he didn’t think he was being too much of a burden,” she said out loud. Rarity wanted her dad to be okay with it; staying over. And it really touched Rarity that of all ponies, her dad came to her in his time of need. Her stomach danced at the thought.

Needed.

Of the best perks of being generous brought the best was having somepony rely on you. Maybe it was a motherly instinct, but the impact a single pony could have on another’s life was certainly intoxicating.

Rarity; the reliable one, the one you can count on... all things she’d gotten used to hearing. Also, things she loved hearing.

Though she couldn’t help but wonder if after all these years of give, give, give, she was the one being taken advantage of. Coming home every night to the loneliness of an empty house was a reminder of one thing: whatever she was doing hadn’t worked.

“Rarity, get a hold of yourself,” she commanded with stern disapproval. Ironic that the sound of voice, even her own, could calm her better than willpower alone. Simulating the reality of another pony to console her; it was sad how willingly she wanted to be duped.

But one pony going through a rough patch was enough. They didn’t need two. She had to be strong and help her father, possibly uncovering the cause of this separation in the first place.

That's why initially, Rarity considered visiting her mother to get the other side of the story and to see how she was doing. However the image of her sobbing mother convinced her a visit might make things worse. Besides if her dad found out he might not feel Rarity being impartial, and then he would never open up to her. That was the hardest part: getting her dad to talk about it. She might be able to find a hint if she looked through her father’s things...

“Now Rarity,” she reminded herself, “it wouldn’t be prudent to invade another pony’s privacy, even if they are family. And even if you do have their best interests at heart.”

But lack of a better plan and curiosity got the better of her. After all, a casual perusal of her father’s belongings could hardly hurt, right? Maybe she would even find something that could make the subject more approachable.

“Well, he could probably use a change of sheets,” she finally convinced herself.

Rarity crept into the guest bedroom, silently making her way over to the discarded duffel bag on the floor. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she unlatched the lid and peered into the disheveled mess of clothes. It was confirmation that he definitely needed her. What pony couldn’t do their own laundry for Celestia’s sake! Wearing any of this stuff ‘as is’ would be an embarrassment, especially leaving from a shop such as her own.

Taking out the clothes and folding them one by one with her magic, she hummed a little tune, soothing to do something so habitually. Untold hours dressmaking afforded Rarity the practice to master folding any fabric. Passing over another Hoofwaiian shirt made her gag. She could tidy her father’s clothes, but that wouldn’t change his fashion sense.
She wondered for how long he had been dressing like that. Ever since she was a foal, Rarity remembered the brilliant pastels. It would be tacky to say his fashions pushed her to pursue her current career, but it wasn’t entirely out of the question either. Magnum needed a change of pace. Getting a dress shirt for him to wear would have to be added to the list.

After wading past the first couple of layers, she started feeling around, pushing aside any cloth to search for clues. Eventually, her hoof contacted something plastic-y.

“Oh, ick!” Rarity wretched when she realized what the object was. She stuck out her tongue and threw the tiny package across the room. The condom fell to the bed. Rarity stared at the damning object.

It wasn’t like it had been used. It very well could have been a remnant of another time; perhaps with every intention of being used on her mother. But it was rather hard to believe that lie in lieu of recent events. Another piece of evidence further incriminated her father, as a scrunched paper bearing a smudged telephone number unfolded in Rarity’s magic.
Unable to decipher the numbers thanks to a smudge, Rarity offered her father a reprieve. It could have been something mundane like a business contact. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Yeah, there was no way her father was pig-headed enough to keep his mistress’s contact information with him after getting kicked out of the house. Rarity continued her search. Her hoof hit the bottom of the suitcase before she contacted another foreign object.

It was a picture from a while ago, and it showed Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and their parents enjoying each other’s company. It had certainly been a long time since Rarity enjoyed traditional ‘family’ activities, even though they all lived in Ponyville. Either too busy or too embarrassed she wasn’t sure, but an excuse always seemed to find a way to dissociate her from the rest of her family. Somehow the presence of the memento was heartening. No matter what Magnum had done, he still loved his family. How could her mother not appreciate that? Somepony who was so ready and willing to give his love unconditionally. The father she knew was goofy and reckless at times sure, but was he really capable of hurting Opal enough that this drastic action was warranted? Why if Magnum was her husband…

Her husband.

Rarity paused. Wow, she was fantasizing about… her own father? Sure he was handsome: virile enough to display the gifts of his youth still with impeccable muscle structure and a lithe physique, as well as kind: always open to listen to other pony’s problems, but for Celestia’s sake it was her father!

Rarity closed the trunk and gathered the sheets from the bed, balling them together in a frustrated lump. Again she saw the condom as it slipped out from the sheets. Naturally she wondered how that part of her father compared. Though she consciously told herself to stop she could feel blood flood into her nethers, contractions starting to excite her. Her dream stallion. The complete package. One that had all of the traits she sought in a mate. From good personality to great physicality. The image burned in her mind: getting taken right there fast and hard. A pulsating phallus positioned at her beckoning entrance. She breathed deeply, making a lewd noise halfway between a whinny and a grunt as she noticed the presence of masculine aroma wafting off the sheets.

Rarity hopped up onto the bed and dove into the pile of laundry. Musk off her father had saturated the threads, bringing their folds to her snout to inhale. It smelled like sex: its deep, heady, odor. Rarity had always been a detail oriented individual, and the scent she was getting helped focus her imagination. Yes, a wide flare that jut forward. Flat so that its girth could stretch her sex to an oh-so-desirable width. Then her winking crotch would invite him deeper, until he hilted inside her. Rarity flicked her teats with a little magic. Getting them to sway back and forth at the thrusts of an imaginary lover.

But she couldn’t allow him to have all the fun. Again folding the sheets around her muzzle, she now pretended to bury her face into a stallion’s crotch, flicking her tongue in and out, attempting to taste him. Her hindquarters drove into the bed, slapping unsatisfyingly against a flat surface where a muzzle should have been. Disappointed that she had to exert extra effort to keep up the illusion she reached to her behind, making an attempt to slap futilely at her lust. All she accomplished was a dampening of her marehood, spreading her labia and slathering it in her juices. Of course the clumsy appendage was too big to enter any further than the periphery of her sex. The continual circling escalated her excitement, but could only take her so far.

The mussed fur at her crotch strew off in wildly different directions. Desperation rising, it was the first time Rarity couldn’t care less how she looked, as she maneuvered to the side of the bed and began to grind its angle against her slit. Its rigid edge perfectly parted her labia, irritating the area to a new degree of arousal. She cried out at the new sensation releasing the desires of her subconscious, thrusting and licking at the bed: her new mate.

“Daddy!”

“Yes, sweetie?”

Everything snapped all at once. Color drained from Rarity’s face, her consciousness quickly recovering from the lucid dream. How had she not heard her father come home? Hastily, she tumbled from the mattress, trailing a few sticky strands of mare pre from the bed to her behind, and levitated the sullied sheets in her magic. Desperate times called from desperate measures as she daintily wiped her excitement away, cringing that she was treating her luxurious linens like common bath tissue. The creamy residue pooling on the mattress also met a quick scrubbing, as Rarity drove the sheets across it trying her best to remove the stain. An impossible task, she did her best, giving it a quick sniff to check her own pheromones. Sure enough the smell of her lust was overpowering, as though the bed were now some sort of breeding ground. Unable to think of any other solutions, Rarity overturned a bottle of her father’s favorite cologne as she heard hoof steps echo in the foyer.

That will have to do for now. Rarity told herself, promising she would return to conduct a proper cleanup when she had the time.

“Where you calling me?” Magnum pushed into the room moments after Rarity managed to bury her shame deep in the ball of fabrics. The folding she had done earlier ruined due to her adding his clothes into the mix for additional cover.

“No, sorry,” Rarity replied, “I was simply, um… frustrated. Yes, yes, you know, a long day of work and all.” A large smile promised her father she wasn’t doing anything conspicuous. “I figured you could probably use a change of sheets and I figured while I was at it I’d start a load of laundry as well.”

“Well thank you, that’s very generous,” Magnum assured. “Can I get those for you? Wouldn’t be polite if I let you do all the work.”

“Oh it’s no trouble,” Rarity countered. “I’d like you to be as comfortable as possible. Let me just throw these things downstairs and I’ll get dinner ready.”

Magnum had to admit, he was lucky to have raised such a beautiful and considerate daughter. Maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up after all.

“That sounds really nice,” he conceded.

Rarity nodded and gave a brief “mmhmm” of acknowledgement before descending to the first floor. Throwing the pile of laundry down she let out a deep breath, barely able to contain her anxiety at the awkward situation she had just avoided. A shower was advisable, as walking around in her un-freshened state would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention.

Regardless, tonight was going to be interesting. The first single stallion staying the night in months and here she was acting like an animal.

He deserved better. Better than her mother, for sure. He deserved her.