Pinkie's Brownies

The afterglow is filled with the sound of your heart pumping. You can hear it in your ears, and feel your chest pulsing with it. You know Pinkie can feel it as well, as she’s scrunched the barrel of her chest up in order to lay her head on your chest.

However, as your heart rate begins to slow down, and at the point where the high would start to fade, you realise something is different. The weakness in your arms has spread more or less everywhere. It hasn’t paralysed you, but strange sensation of something overriding your body’s normal mechanisms is lingering. More obviously, you can feel your boner still going strong deep inside the pink mare, with no sign of letting up. This is made evident by the fact that Pinkie is experimentally wiggling her rump on you, checking to see if you’re going flaccid yet.

“Mmm… Mhmm,” she hums, sitting up slightly and checking you over like a doctor diagnosing a patient, “Just as I expected…”

The strange feeling in your limbs is really setting in now. It’s not that you feel heavy, or weighed down. It’s more like the motion sensitivity of your muscles has been reduced to almost nothing. A movement that you would expect to lift your arm up into the air only seems to move it an inch off of the mattress. You try again watching it closely- the same thing happened. It feels like you’ve lifted it up, and it takes the same effort, but nothing is actually happening - as if you’re riding a bicycle that’s stuck in first gear. A lot of input for very little output. Your eyes seem to be the only thing unaffected, enabling you to look around as far as your field of vision permits, although your neck seems to have the same issue as your limbs.

Pinkie is watching you twitch feebly, gently bouncing on your unwavering hard-on. She picks up your arm, which seems to you like it just moved from the floor to the ceiling, and then she lets it drop again. Then, placing both of her forelegs horizontally across your chest like a pair of rolling pins, she gently places her full weight on you.

You brace to have the wind pushed out of your lungs, but it's a futile preparation for what actually happens. Her limbs crush your chest entirely.

There's no crunch of broken ribs, nor is there any pain, or other associated side effects, like death. She simply squashes your chest like a pillow, leaving an indentation in your torso.

Your breath is forced out through your mouth, but as you try to gasp, your lungs don't draw any air back in. Instead, the vacuum in your chest is equalised by the rest of your entire body deflating slightly. Pinkie's eyes widen in comical delight.

“Eeeeeheheheheheheeee!” she giggles, her entire body on top of you shaking excitedly, “It’s working!”

Taking great care not to squash your still full-sized erection, she aligns herself to lay full-length on top of you, and lowers herself again. Her weight feels the same as it was midway through sex, reassuringly heavy, but not crushing - only now it pins you down with ease, confirming that your muscles really have stopped working. Once again your breath expels through your lips like an air-bed being deflated. Not being able to hold herself back, her snatch clenches again, now squeezing your manhood into a sliver, her crotch pressing down into yours as your entire body is flattened down until her innocuous chub is against the bed. She's now spread-eagle on top of you, with only your head sticking out over her shoulder.

Satisfied, Pinkie lifts back up to a kneeling position to admire her handy work. You glance down nervously, concerned about what's happening below, and see your very flat cock slip out from her dripping flower. Miraculously, it's as large as it would be on your strongest day, and it still feels like it too. You're mere minutes out from a spectacular orgasm, but you feel like you're just getting started. Except Pinkie Pie has squashed you completely flat.

There’s a ripple of air still billowing around your strangely hollow body, and not satisfied, Pinkie sets about trying to push the last volume out of you. Her hooves press along your limbs, chasing the air up you torse to escape your mouth with a slight squeak of your vocal chords.

Upon hearing this new discovery, Pinkie gigglesnorts and hurriedly begins to repeat the process. Searching for any part of you still more than an inch thick, she suddenly gets up and turns around to check your legs. Her gloriously plump behind along with it’s crazy cloud-like tail sweeps across in front of you, and she immediately sits down to start working on your lower half.

Perhaps unintentionally, her marehood lands directly over your face. The moment she presses down on your diminishing legs, more air escapes your mouth onto her radiating flower. And she freezes still, alert like a cat that just heard a noise from another room. You feel her body on top of you shiver in realisation. The only thing you can see right now is her winking pussy, but you can tell there’s a lewd grin on her face, as she hunkers down to press her marehood onto your face and mouth. She starts prodding your legs again, working from the feet upwards, and practically vibrating with pleasure as your exhaling mouth tickles her most sensitive points.

Although you can’t fully control your mouth and tongue, you are receiving a sweet, almost syrupy flavour from her glistening folds - and you can adjust your lips. This enables you to clamp weakly off and on of the puffy labia currently dominating your world view. A deep hum of pleasure transfers from Pinkie’s body down to you, like a sounding board, bring you almost as much pleasure as she’s getting.

Not wanting to ignore your generous participation in this rather one-sided stage of the night, Pinkie rewards you by pressing the last remaining air in your body up to your crotch, so that your neglected member raises back up meekly. It’s not exactly an erection, but it’s enough for the pink mare to take into her mouth, right down to the hilt. Her lips close around the base of your shaft, holding the pressure in it, and enabling her tongue to go to work while you valiantly do your best for her. The sensation is gasoline onto the fires of your passion, but there’s no sense of approaching orgasm. Your body isn’t up to it, but somehow all the right sensory nerves are still working just fine.

Despite this, you’re now realising where Pinkie is going with all of this; Once she’s finished playing with you, she’s going to take you for another round - and you suspect you’ll be rather more inflated, and still unable to move for that part.

As these thoughts mull through the significantly flattened mound that is your head, Pinkie has been working herself up, steadily and rhythmically grinding her pussy against your face, catching her clit cross your lips. She’s close, stiffening up as her tongue absently wraps around your dick and pulls off. Suddenly she inhales through her nostrils, and with her lips pursed, she pulls her mouth off of your shaft, squeezing the air back out again, and causing an extra sharp wheeze from you. The combination of her timed butt-wriggles and the sudden jet of air straight into her folds sends her right over the edge.

“Oooooooh,” she moans, “That’s it right there…”

She twitches and gets back up before turning back around and flopping down on top of you again. Biting her lip again, eyes half closed, she digs her forelegs under your flat and limp form and rolls onto her back to that you’re draped over her. You head is draped across her long pony neck, and her right hoof fumbled down to her nethers, where it began working her money’s worth out of the orgasm. You’re more or less being used as a blanket at this point, but your crotch still lines up with the action downstairs, and your member is up against her self-indulgence, giving you more attention.

“This was the best idea ever!” she pants, “Look at you, you’re like a big pillowcase! I mean balloons are great and all, but they don’t feel real - but you are real! And you’re like a balloon now!”

Her hoof slows and stops, followed by a deep sigh that lifts your form up several inches and down again. Deeply satisfied, she rolls back over, squashing you under her body like a rolling pin, and she tumbles off of the bed, landing on her hooves.

“I need a drink after all this work… Baking, sex, working out all that air from you… I think we’ve found a new workout regime!”

She gives you a hard look for a moment, and then promptly drags you off of the mattress by a shoulder, and drapes you over her back lengthways.

“Heeheeheehee! Now you’re like a cape!” she giggles gleefully.