Mr. Cake let out a sigh. It had been another busy lunch rush, and he felt satisfied. All of the nice ponies coming in and enjoying the sweets he’d made just for them, it gave him a joy that could only be surpassed by his wonderful wife and foals. The feeling after a job well done was a reward unto itself.
Since business slowed down, Mrs. Cake set out to take Pumpkin and Pound to the doctor. Pinkie was out, too. But that wouldn’t be a problem: with the rush over, he would be able to look after the shop himself.
Then she showed up. A grey-pink mare in a tight-fitting dress-suit that restricted her movements, or it could have been the stick up her butt. She swaggered up to the register and looked down her upturned nose at the selection of sweets in front of her. She snorted or tsked at each pastry that passed under her judgemental, half-lid glances. As if judging for a competition, the mare snuffed each of the sweets that he made.
She sighed, stood up, and rolled her head. "Do you have anything edible here?"
This wasn't the first tough customer Mr. Cake’d had, but she was certainly rushing to be the worst he’d dealt with. If only Pinkie were here, he could have dropped this pain on her shoulders.
Well, he wouldn’t want to do that to the mare. Pinkie was resilient to all kinds of nasty behavior, but that didn’t make it fair to just dump every stuck-up, entitled, inconsiderate customer on her. He put on the best smile he could. "We have a great selection of sweets. If you don't see anything you like, we can always make something for you." He pointed to a menu hanging above the shelves behind him. As soon as the words escaped his lips, he bit his tongue. Now the mare would be here even longer. He silently cursed his habit of providing the best customer service possible.
The mare looked up at the menu and continued to make more noises with her mouth. Mr. Cake silently ground his teeth underneath his smile.
"Fine, make me a Mocha Pots de Creme." She threw some bits carelessly on the counter. A few of the coins clattered on the wooden floor behind the register. Mr. Cake bent down to pick up the bits, he was sure to lower himself far enough so she wouldn't see him snarl and mumble something indecent.
"Well, don't just stand there. My time is important."
He put his smile back on and stood up. "Of course, Miss. Right away." He rushed into the kitchen.
~~~olo~~~
Mocha Pots de Creme, Mocha Pots de Creme. Ah here it is! Mr. Cake had to pull out one of the cookbooks he never used. It was some fancy book about sweets that were popular in Canterlot and abroad gifted to him from Princess Twilight. His wife thought it would be a good idea to try to put some of them on the menu, but they didn’t sell that well. Mr. Cake kicked himself over not taking these “classy” sweets off the menu sooner. He went through the ingredients listed on the page--Mocha Pots de Creme was just a fancy chocolate pudding dessert with chocolate shavings. Such a pompous name for such a plain treat. He gathered all the ingredients he needed and started making the sweet.
"Well, what's the holdup!?"
Her voice was worse than nails on his eardrums. "It won't be long," he said. "It'll only be a minute."
He mixed the ingredients together. If he weren't alone, Pinkie or his wife could have entertained her so she wouldn't have been so snippity. On second thought, he'd hate to subject either of them to that cow at the counter. Neither of them deserved such a punishment.
"I'm waiting."
Mr. Cake ground his teeth together. Then he had an idea. He looked about and made sure there was no pony near the door or windows. He put the mixing bowl on the floor and strategically positioned himself behind the table in the center of the room, so if anypony came in, he had a layer of protection. He lined himself up and grinned.
With one hoof, he reached down and stroked himself. Slow at first, but built up pace. He imagined his beautiful and lovely wife and continued his rapid strokes. Her curves, her soft mane, her ravishing eyes. He didn’t just see her in his mind, he felt her soft fur, he heard her moan, tasted her tongue on his, and smelled her excitement. The stroking became faster and faster. Yes, that's it. Purr for me, my sweet. Then that one time they both were on the Friendship Express. Yes, yes, yes! Almost there! Come on, baby! Who cares if we get caught? Then he remembered what Mrs. Cake had worn for him on his birthday. Oh Celestia, yes. You’re mine now. Take it, Luna. Take all of it, you filthy whore. He went at it like a furious animal. Any harder and he would have pulled it off.
"Well, are you coming, or not!?"
"I'm cumming!" said Mr. Cake. He wiped the sweat off his brow and finished the pudding. He made sure to give the treat a few extra stirs before wrapping it up and giving it to the mare. "Here you go. Made it special just for you."
"About time." The mare took the bag between her teeth and turned to leave. "The service here stinks. Don't expect me to come here again."
Oh, you won't be missed.
He waved as the mare left. "Thank you, come again!"
Author's Note
Wrote in response to the "masturbates" trend.
