Author's Note
Straight sex in the missionary position. What has clop come to!?
It's just clop. Enjoy.
A Piece of Cake
Piece of Cake
"Do you… think I'm still beautiful?"
It was an innocuous enough question to ask, but I can't say I'd been ready for it.
I'd been living and working in Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville, ever since my arrival in Equestria. There were a few other humans around town, each one with a different story about their arrival, none of which matched with the others. All of them had found odd jobs or had been taken in by agreeable ponies.
It was... a bit strange, I have to say. We weren't quite pets, but we certainly weren't people - we weren't, after all, ponies.
Some humans wandered around mostly or entirely naked, others wore odd redesigns of native clothing. Some - like me - wore collars. Some had been branded, others neutered. I, for one, was more than pleased to be entirely intact and without marks.
Pro tip: If you end up here, and you're male, don't display aggressive behaviour. Their solution to 'alpha male displays' is rather simple, and permanent.
Anyway, I'd shown some aptitude with my meals when they'd taken me in, blending ingredients to improve the otherwise bland meal, and the Cakes had somehow gotten the crazy idea to throw me at a kitchen. I'm half convinced Pinkie was behind it, it's the sort of thing she'd do.
Long story short, I was soon made an unpaid intern in the bakery, with my owners' cutiemarks on my collar in case I got into trouble, or got lost. I didn't wander far, though. I needed to eat and I needed shelter.
And so it was, that one day when Carrot Cake was out on a multi-day trip to some Bakery Exhibition on the other side of Equestria, I'd found Mrs Cup Cake crying into her batter.
***
"What's wrong?" I asked, softly. I didn't want to startle Mrs Cake, but I didn't like to see anypony cry.
"Do you… think I'm still beautiful?" she replied, voice cracking.
I took a step back, and her face scrunched up. Immediately I stepped forwards, holding out a hand. "I… you're beautiful, Mrs Cake," I replied. "There's no 'still' about it."
She sniffled, wiping her muzzle with the back of a hoof. "Y-you really think so?" she asked plaintively, lifting her head up to look me in the eye.
I bent down, the better to meet the gaze from her soft pink eyes - the same color as her mane, I wondered. Why hadn't I noticed that before? - and replied, simply, "yes."
And that was when she kissed me. She darted forwards, almost apologetically, and planted her wide, soft, blue lips on my face.
"Mmf!" I exclaimed, my body going rigid in shock.
"Oh my gosh! Oh gosh! I'm so, so, so, so--" She'd leaped back immediately, almost shrinking inside herself with shame and shock.
"Wait, wait!" I said.
"Oh dearie me, no, I… I should… have to be…"
I leaned forwards, before she could finish her sentence and bolt, and gently but firmly pulled her muzzle towards me.
I hadn't really thought about... it. I mean, that's not entirely true: I'm a male. I have needs, and being in a land of naked ponies - many of them very female - meant that the idea had found itself in my head pretty much inside the first day, and further thoughts after less than a week, but I hadn't done anything about it.
Other than the obvious. A lot of the obvious.
Again: male. It's pretty much all they think we're good for. They might have a point.
And so I kissed her. And then I kissed her again. And then she kissed me. And then we kissed each other, right there over the counter-top, with icing sugar on my hands and in her swirling pink mane, and frosting on her lips.
I kissed her forcefully, urgently, clumsily. Her pelt was smooth, almost like silk. When I closed my eyes it was… strange. It didn't feel like kissing a pony. It didn't taste like I expected it to, either.
I expected slimy, soggy half-eaten grass. She didn't eat grass, or at least I'd never seen her eating the stuff. Her breath smelled of peppermints and her hide of castor sugar. I found myself kissing her teeth as her broad, soft lips enveloped my face. I forced my tongue into her mouth, and she - surprised, but eager - returned the favour.
Suddenly she broke off.
"What?" I asked, fearfully. Had she had second thoughts? Visions of a visit to the vet, some small scars and a certain lightness in my step danced in my thoughts, but only for a moment.
"Go upstairs, sweetie," she said to me, suddenly. "Go on, now. Go on!"
I pointed up the stairs, questioningly. She nodded, I complied.
The aged wooden stairs were pokey, for a pony, but broad for me, though the ceiling was quite low. Dimly I heard the bell above the front door tinkle, then the lock turn. I was almost certain that I even heard the 'sorry, we're closed!' sign being flipped.
I definitely heard her hoofsteps as they came up the stairs.
Several things ran through my brain at that point: Pinkie was scheduled to be out all day, Carrot was out until the weekend. The kids were out with Pinkie.
Oh. Well, then.
***
Pinkie lived up on the third floor of Sugarcube Corner, in the attic. Mister and Misses Cake lived on the second. I usually lived in the basement, or the kitchen in winter, next to the stove.
I realized I'd never actually seen Mrs Cakes bedroom. It smelled of her, and… something else. There was another aroma, spicy and, well, masculine. Mr Cake smelled of cinnamon and burned sugar. I could smell it everywhere in the room, except… except on Mrs Cake.
I looked up as she entered. I was perched on the edge of the wide, low bed, staring at the floor, and then her soft hoof-falls had sounded in the small room.
"It was… a few years ago," she whispered, as she stepped closer to me. "An accident with a snow plow during Winter Wrap-Up."
I winced. Then I looked deeply into her kind eyes. "A few yea--" I paused. "Oh," I said. "So they're not..?"
"Two earth ponies having twin foals, one unicorn and one pegasus? It's not unheard of, but it is rare. Common enough they pass. We were… lucky, with the donors. Related kinfolk."
Pony families worked that way, I'd noticed. I guessed humans with problems conceiving would do much the same if they had no options and still wanted foals.
"So is he really…?" I left the question hanging. Heh, hanging.
"Oh, no. He's not at a convention. We'd both go if he was. He's getting surgery, getting the implants replaced. I've told him it's silly, but he just…" Cup Cake blushed. "They're important to him, you know? Virile older male and all, head stallion of the family."
I nodded. Having been threatened with the big snip more than once in my early days here, I knew how he felt. Having testicles were more than just a status symbol, they were… well. He was a gelding and wanted to appear a stallion. I could hardly fault him.
"But he can't, well, you know." Mrs Cake looked down at the floor. "It all gets a bit awkward when we try, the poor dear. There are herbs and potions he can take, but they're expensive, and we save them for special occasions."
"Why are you telling me all--?" I began.
"Because I don't lo--" Cup Cake blurted, almost at the same time as me, anticipating my question. She took a deep breath. "I don't love you. I love him. I adore him. He is the father to our foals. But when he's off the potions he's not… frisky. He's…"
"The same thing happens to ponies on our world," I said, helpless to prevent a small smile gracing the corner of my lips. "Men too, if they get their balls cut off. Sex drive is linked to them. And you have… needs."
I blushed as I said it, and she caught the note of… excitement in my voice. I… wanted her. And she knew it. It was a heady drug for the older mare, and not one she could easily dismiss. I looked down at her as colour graced her cheeks. Mrs Cake was a small-sized mare that had had a medium-sized mare poured into her. She was overflowing. That wasn't to say she was fat, but she was… hefty. She was bountiful, delectable.
I reached out to her, tenderly and hesitantly, and stroked her cheek, around behind her jaw. She closed her eyes, gasping, as she leaned into my touch.
"Oh, Sam," she said to me, wistfully.
I bent down to kiss her again, and ended up pulling her bulky body up onto the bed. Awkwardly, with a lot of tittering, she and I clambered onto the bed proper. Slowly, she lowered her bulk onto mine as I lay reclining underneath her soft, warm folds. I smiled up at her. I don't know if it was the quality in her bed or not, but she was large but crushing.
My hands roved down her long, chubby neck. She really was beautiful. She was an older mare, yes, but in the prime of her life, with two gloriously wide, foal-bearing hips. I mussed her beehive-like hair as we kissed again, passionately, the forbidden nature of our carnal activities firing the both of us up.
I rolled, straddling her plump barrel as we tussled. She looked, then, up at me, from her position on the bed, helplessly held on her back between my thighs.
I bent down to kiss her as my hands played with her pinafore. I pulled it off, then looked somewhat blankly at her chest. Somewhere, my inner voice was laughing at me. Ponies don't have breasts, idiot.
Still… I ran my fingers through her silken fur, taken by how the light played through the strands. I kissed her chest, breasts or no, nibbling and biting. She giggled, and I felt her long tail flick my ears.
I whuffled and snorted, biting, which only caused her to giggle and writhe more. Before I knew it, we were tussling on the bed, legs and arms akimbo as we fought for supremacy. I bit her on the frog, she klocked me in the ribs with a hoof, we rolled over and over until we both suddenly ran out of bed, and ended up on the thick shag-pile carpet, in a heap.
Spinning upright, I realized I had her pinned, though I was now looking at her hind quarters. I snagged a back leg of hers and chewed it, half biting, half playing with my tongue as I worked my way up it towards her belly. Meeting the soft folds of her ample tummy, I lowered my head once more and kissed them.
She was… carrying a few extra pounds. In all the right places. I'd never been one for the vulgar term chubby chaser, but her obviously virile body was alluring. This body can bear children, it said, and that spoke to me on some deep, primal level. I had to have her.
"Oof! Stop! Tickles!" she giggled, bending her head up on her long, sinuous neck to nip at my butt as I wormed my way towards her rear end. I paused for a moment around her full teats. They were swollen with milk, full as they were in order to feed her two children.
Overfull. I could tell they were somewhat painful for her. I suckled, gently, to relieve the pleasure. She sighed with contentment as I did so, going limp in my grip. Flicking them playfully with my tongue, I emptied the other 'breast' in due course, emitting a brief burp. She giggled again. "Good baby," she said.
"I'm no baby," I growled, swatting her right on the cutiemark. I grabbed her then, despite her shrieks, and buried my face in her crotch. Mrs Cake looked after herself, she was as clean and sweet as any human, and she knew how to make herself look and smell good. I drank in her heady perfume as I rubbed my body all over hers.
A body that still had clothes on. Something which wasn't fitting in with Cup Cake's plans.
"Lose that shirt, darling, you'll get it all wrinkled."
"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, shrugging it off. I felt teeth and hooves somehow working at my trousers, and somehow they were undone and pulled down. Then, toying with me, she yanked at my boxers, releasing my member. It stood proudly free of its confines as my body was relieved of my underwear. You can probably imagine how loudly I gasped when she buried my cock in her muzzle.
Not wanting to be outdone, I pressed myself with feral urgency against her body and nuzzled at her netherlips. We lay there like that for a few minutes, gently learning each others' shape and scent. Then I whuffled at her, nickering like I'd heard stallions do back home. The effect on this vision of matured loveliness was electric. Almost whinnying with suppressed need, I saw her moist lips part and a brief stream of fluid ejected itself onto the carpet.
"Oh!" she squeaked. I could tell from her voice that her cheeks were burning in shame. She stiffened, kicking her hooves as she tried to escape. I didn't let her finish. I just buried my face into her sex, licking and nibbling all the furiouser, biting even as I played the needy, wanton stallion. Which, I suppose, I was.
I thrust into her muzzle a few more times, my tongue parting her honeyed cuntlips as I sought access to her body, playing my probing mouth around her taut, hot entrance, but it was clear what she wanted. I lapped at the little nub of her clit, though, building that desire. She was shivering in short order, her legs twitching and convulsing with every application of my tongue to her sensitive organ. I didn't know if talking female ponies from Equestria were entirely similar to talking female humans from Earth, but I did know one thing - their physical equipment was at least remarkably similar.
She was enjoying this. She was putty in my surrogate hooves. I could tell, because her cherry red vagina was visible every time she 'winked'.
I held her close, kneading at her plump buttocks with my hands as I lapped voraciously at her cunt and thrust my dripping cock into her muzzle until, suddenly, my face was covered in a sluicing torrent of marecream. She had ejaculated all over my face. I groaned, needfully, as I thrust my mouth up against her netherlips and kissed, licking and sucking at her with all my might.
"S-stop," she whimpered. "It's… too much…"
"I need more," I growled, biting her. I heard her whimper, and she winked again and again.
"Th-then take me," she whispered.
I rolled off of her, and she scrambled up to slam her bulk into the bed. I quickly stood proudly behind her, yanked on her tail so it was clear of her vagina, then leaned into her sodden body and slid my pulsating, precum-coated cock up to the hilt in her love tunnel. I grabbed her backside, then, squeezing hard with both fists as I rocked her back and forth, plunging my love spear hard into her body, forcing it deeper and deeper as she clamped down on it.
She was hot - in more ways than one - and tight, and wet, and slick, and I found myself gritting my teeth, hard, until they squeaked as I fucked her. We were both panting, now, in time with each other, her tongue lolling out the side of her muzzle as we mated like beasts, her eyes half-lidded with sexual excitation.
I had been close, as her tongue had played up and down my hard length. I had been close as she had teased at my engorged shaft with her teeth. And now, as I slapped her cutiemark again, causing her to whinny and bellow lustfully, I was more than close.
With an explosion of cum, I sent ream after ream of ropey spunk shooting into her crevice. I pulled her close, as closer as possible, closer even, mashing my crotch into her well-fed backside as her buttocks almost enfolded my body. My hands roved further up her body, towards her plump barrel, as I draped myself over her.
She was panting, wheezing almost, with exertion. Her sweat was sweet, like nectar, as I tasted it on her body. I kissed her again, along her neck, almost nibbling at her ears, surrounding her as I was like a spent stallion. We lay there like that for a good few minutes, just drinking in each other's scent, before my cock slipped out of her overfull snatch and I fell onto the bed besides her.
I pulled her up, then, and cuddled close. I kissed her face, licking away the tears, as I silenced her futile moans. I knew she loved Mr Cake, but she was a woman, for all she was shaped like a pony. And that made me a stallion, where it counted.
I pulled her close, and, lost in each other's breathing, we slept.
