Jack Ices the Cake

I felt extremely awkward walking through Ponyville for the first time. Ponies stared at me, confused, while others called their fillies and colts inside and shut the door. I can't blame them. A human must be an alarming sight in a world where we're unknown.

Eventually making my way to an absurd-looking dessert of a building, I ducked inside. A spectacular array of candy and pastries was on display, and a yellow, freckled pony with an underbite stood behind the counter to greet me. "Good morning, my good...sir?" He made a valiant effort to disguise his alarm at my appearance, but quickly warmed up when I greeted him back.

"Good morning. You must be Mr. Cake."

"Yes, sir! You must be here to check on the arrangements for Pinkie's party." He stuck his head into the back. "Sugar lumps, that creature is here--"

"Jack," I interrupted.

"--Jack is here to check on the party arrangements."

It was obvious she was trying to be quiet, so I wouldn't overhear, but I could just make out part of her reply. "...nursing the twins, dear..."

With an embarrassed look on his face, Mr. Cake assured me, "My wife will be out in a minute. She's in charge of the catering arrangements on this one. Why don't you have a seat? I can give you a complimentary cupcake while you wait."

"That would be great, thanks."

I sat in a too-small chair at a too-small table, munching on a pastry that had a delightful fruity flavor, if a bit too grainy texture. Moments later, a plump blue pony appeared. Her mane and tail were hot pink, styled to resemble soft serve ice cream, or frosting. She looked frazzled, but put on a good face and greeted me with as much cheer as she could muster, "Good morning, sir. How are we doing today?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Just dandy, thank you," she replied, taking a seat next to me.

She proceeded to go over the minutiae of the decorations and the menu, checking off items and making notes on a piece of paper while deftly holding a pencil in her mouth. I confess that I had no idea what to think of the food selection--oats, greens, and flowers, mostly--so my mind, and my eyes, wandered. I would never admit to liking the bigger girls back home, but this mare had an undeniable sexual energy about her. I didn't notice her moving, but over the course of the conversation she somehow ended up right next to me. I looked almost straight down, seeing her pink earring, my gaze finding her plump foreleg, a roll of fat where her belly met her back, and the glorious curve of her chunky hind leg. She smelled of earth, flour, and fresh-baked bread. She shifted her legs, more slowly than necessary, and behind her apron I caught a glimpse of firm, round teats. She had leaked some milk through the fabric. My cock threatened an erection. And there, a pause in the conversation. The bell at the door as the only two customers in the store exited. That brought me out of my own head. I hadn't been listening.

"I--I'm sorry, what was that?" I turned red.

She was looking up at me with pink eyes, heavy-lidded, long-lashed, a flirtatious grin spread across her chubby cheeks as she coyly chewed the end of the pencil. "Oh, I was just saying that we should have everything set up tonight. I suppose you'll want to come by to check on things--Oh, dear!" She dropped the pencil, which clattered on the table and fell into my lap. She chased it, brushing a foreleg against my inner thigh and knocking the pencil to the floor. "Oh, I'm such a butterhooves." She slid down to the floor, (inadvertently?) sliding across my leg until she was literally sitting on her side in my lap with her head under the table. Her tail went up, wrapping around the back of my neck, and my eyes darted to her puckered asshole, slightly moist vulva barely winking open. She made a show of struggling to retrieve her writing implement while her round blue flank ground into my crotch, fully arousing me. The three cupcakes of her cutie mark jiggled subtly with each of her movements. She started to rise again, but paused with her head next to my crotch. I could feel her warm breath on my junk as she apologized, "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry about that."

All the blood rushed to my head, and I risked a peek at the counter. Thankfully Mr. Cake must have been in the kitchen while this was going on, and was just then reentering the room.

Mrs. Cake had returned to a more respectable position and fixed her mane with her front hooves. "Now, we have tickets to a performance at the Ponyville Theater tonight, but I insist that you come by to check on the preparations. Business comes first." She turned to her husband," Hun-buns, you'll have to scoot along ahead of me tonight and drop the twins off at the foalsitter without me. I'll be a little late to the play."

"Oh, that's fine, sugar dumpling," he replied, "I'll let you know what you missed."

Mrs. Cake's eyes lingered on me meaningfully, "I don't think I'll miss much. Well, we'll see you tonight, Jack."

"Y--yes, of course."