Author's Note

(AN: A Very Special Thank you to L0rd0f7hund3r for doing this chapter. We got to talking about the characters, he mentioned that he wouldn't mind to do one, and well one meal from Domino's later this beauty came out. Seriously, buddy, thanks!

RJP)

Bonus Scene # 8 Flurry Heart and Pound Cake (Special Guest Author L0rd0f7hund3r)

Bumbling through my Education

Bonus Scene

Flurry Heart and Pound Cake

“Pound, I thought I taught better than this.” Cup Cake sternly admonished at her son.

The colt at least had the wherewithal to look guilty, “I’m sorry, mama…”

Mrs. Cake nodded her acknowledgement of her son’s guilt, then turned to the young princess, “Your Highness-”

“You can just call me Flurry, Mrs. Cake,” the daughter of Shining Armor and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza stated.

“Alright then, Flurry,” Mrs. Cake began, “I'm not sure what your parents taught you, but Pound was raised in the Earth pony tradition. We, Mr. Cake and I, never denied our son his Pegasus heritage. We encouraged him to fly and to practice as often as possible. We even got him a cloud bed, so he could sleep comfortably. That said, we kept him grounded to the principals our sires and dams taught us. And we Earth ponies do not fiddle around with our dates. Not unless we're sure that they're willing to commit.”

“I can understand that, Mrs. Cake,” Flurry Heart said, “I apologize if I was out of line with your son. Given how openly my parents are with showing their affection for one another, and how often that affection lead to physical intimacy, I guess I assumed that was what a filly did to attract a colt. I think I may have equated sex with showing one’s affection. I didn’t know that such a thing is treated differently in other households. I am so very sorry, Mrs. Cake. You must think me a right whorse right now.”

“Oh, no, dearie,” Mrs. Cake assured, “I think nothing of the sort. I was just trying to discern if your- involvement with my little colt was pure and not something more- lewd.”

“Oh, Celestia, mom!” Pound exclaimed, “Could you please stop talking?”

And to think this day started out so well…

Pound swerved his way through the chaos that was the Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen. Aunt Pinkie Pie was baking up a storm, so flour, sugar, syrup, and a blowtorch littered the floor; his mother would have a time getting the floor cleaned up. And with how Strawberry Cream, Pinkie and Cheese Sandwich’s foal, was rolling around in the stuff, getting all the flour from off the floor would be tantamount to impossible. Pound avoided Mother and daughter, swung his father, who was taking a fresh delivery of baking goods, zigzagged past his mother, who was taking plates back in from the seating area and skidded to a stop to avoid crashing into his sister, Pumpkin, as she burst through the kitchen’s double hinged doors with a new series of orders from customers.

Pound’s job today was to work the register. He didn’t mind doing so because he could stretch out his wings and chat up the pretty fillies in town. His parents shop was the go to place for the teenaged foals as an after school hang out. And he got some serious cred for being the Cube’s owner’s son. Of course, when there was a mad rush like what this afternoon was shaping up to be, being up front did have its disadvantages. Namely, irate clients, impatient clients, screaming infant foals, and the occasional monster attack that forced the shop to close up.

The tail end of the afternoon rush was finally drawing to close and the Corner had never been so busy before. Pound took a sweep of the seating area and noticed a disproportionate amount of guard figures in the shop. The last time he had seen this many guards in town was when Princess Luna held The Winter Solstice Festival here in Ponyville. The Corner quickly ran out of baked goods to sell and was sold out of coffee and hot cocoa in an hour. It was a good night for business but a horrible night for sleep. Neither he, his sister or their parents got to be bed before three in the morning.

Still, the sound of bits filling the till meant his family would be eating well and paying off all their bills on time. The tax collector had been by last week and while his parents were no longer under audit, The Cakes did need one good year to keep it that way. A few more weeks of sales like this and maybe the Cakes could take a vacation this year. Pound could only hope. He was looking forward to a week long visit to Canterlot. He would love to see Wonderbolts. The way that Scootaloo talked about them, made them sound more exciting than anything in Equestria. He would kill to see one of their shows.

Pound Cake was still dreaming of watching Rainbow Dash from the stands when a new customer came in. The shop went stone silent when this new client stepped inside. Pound awoke from his mild fantasy, he saw a very regal customer stride to the counter.

“Hello, Pound,” Princess Flurry Heart said with a smile, “how are you doing today?”

“Flurry Heart!” Pound exclaimed, “Wow, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ugh, how dare you?!” Flurry Heart scoffed in mock outrage, “You must only refer to me as Your Highness, Your Eminence, Your Grace, or Your Liege. Anything else you call me is sacrilege.”

“Oh, please,” Pound retorted, “save the hoity toity talk for Canterlot. They’re the only ones that would take it seriously.”

The two ponies gave each a deadpan stare, neither willing to relent. Eventually, as the moment went from serious to silly, Flurry Heart started to giggle, which began to crack up Pound and the two young ponies started guffawing. The whole of the shop watched as princess and cashier roared hilariously at the inside joke.

“By Faust, Pounder,” Flurry said, after quelling the better part of her giggles, “you would make a great actor. I actually believed you!”

“You’re so much better at acting than me,” Pound retorted, “‘Oh, look at me! Imma a pretty, pretty princess! My royal scepter is crammed so far up my tail hole that it's a wonder I can even sit straight!’”

Laughing again, Flurry replied, “I’m going to get you for that one!”

Once their jovial act subsided, Pound asked, “So, what can I get you?”

“A dozen Raspberry Crystal Cupcakes, please,” Flurry said, “and a frappuccino, too.”

“You got it,” Pound assured and then to his father at the stove, “Pa, I need a hung jury on a jewelry heist and a foamy blonde, with a sprinkling of angel dandruff.”

“Comin’ up!” Mr. Cake shouted back, and soon a box of crystallized pastries with a steaming cup of caffeinated goodness arrives up front. Pumpkin is the deliverer and she gives Flurry a wink as she turns away.

With experience in the way that both of the Cakes and Pinkie Pie bake, Flurry heart sees no reason to doubt the contents of the bakery box, instead she pries the lid of her drink and inhales deeply. The soft moan she gives tells Pound that her olfactory senses have been satisfied quite well.

“How do you remember the shaved cinnamon in my frappuccino?” Flurry asks.

“Well, it’s not every day that a pretty filly comes in and asks for cinnamon in her coffee,” Pound explains, “the only other mares in town who do so are Princess Twilight and Ms. Rarity Carousel.”

“I would expect that of Twilight,” Flurry mumbles, “but Aunt Rarity does it, too?”

“Did you say something, Flurry?” Pound asks.

“Oh!” The young princess starts, “Heh-heh, sorry, just thinking aloud. So, whats the total damage?”

“Ten bits for sweets, two bits for the sugar rush,” Pound answers, “kinda late for the caffeine, though. What gives?”

“Ugh, royal conference,” Flurry Heart moans, “Aunt Celestia, Luna, and Twilight are meeting with my mother over- something or another. Tartarus if I know what it is. We’re on a lunch break right now, but it’s likely to go on well into the evening. As the junior most princess, it’s my job to act as ‘gofer’ and bring something for lunch.”

“That sucks,” Pound replies, “I guess it could be worse, though. You could be picking up after your unicorn sister who is on the verge of becoming a pack rat.”

“Uh, I heard that!” Pumpkin roars, her head popping up behind the swing doors, “by the way, little bro, you have close up duty. Just FYI.”

“Little? LITTLE?! We’re only a few minutes apart, you daft, dozy-”

“Pound Cake, if you even think of finishing that sentence…”

Pound immediately stops his diatribe; his sister sticks out her tongue in a childish display and disappears into the kitchen again.

“Horsefeathers,” Pound growled.

“What’s wrong?” Flurry asked.

“I gotta stay and close up the shop,” Pound expounded, “which means i have clean up the store, restock our supplies and inventory, count up the till and add factor it into the books, tidy up the kitchen and stoves, and get everything ready for tomorrow morning.”

“That’s a lot of work,” Flurry admitted, “but at least you’ll have your family to help. Right?”

“Ha, not tonight,” Pound murmured, “My sister has a recital at school, so my mom and pop are going there. I’ll be here, like I have for the last three days, holding the fort.”

“Oh,” Flurry said, “that- that sounds horrible.”

“It is,” Pound replied, “my social life for the past week has gone down the drain.”

Flurry looks upon Pound for a moment, her mind a whirligig of devilish plotting. She has been nursing a longing for the young baker’s son for as long as she’s known him but her home in the Crystal Empire meant she couldn’t fully pursue him the way she wanted. Given how droll the proceedings of the Princess Council that she had to sit on, Flurry had an idea, a very erotic idea, of how to make Pound Cake’s night and get her freak on as well.

“I wish you luck,” FLurry said, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery to make. Caio!”

“Later, gater,” Pound said, watching the princess exit the shop, “I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave.”

“If she hears you say that, she might just slap you,” Pumpkin says, startling Pound from his vigil, “I know I would.”

“Pumpkin,” Mr. Cake says as he appears by the hinged doors, “quit bothering your brother. He doesn’t irk you when that Rumble and he’s older than you.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Pumpkin sings, then to Pound, “good luck tonight, ‘Pounder.’”

“Ugh, disgusting!” Pound groans as he exits the little colts room, “how can anypony evacuate so much from eating so little?! I gotta ask Mama to ban Button mash from here. That toilet was a pig sty!”

Pound trudged from the bathroom towards the supply closet. Once there, he deposited the mop, bucket, rubber gloves and bleach needed to clean up the offal that was left behind. He left the supply closet for the employee bathroom to clean his olfactory nerves with the sagebrush candle there and wash his hands. With his hands and nostrils clean, he set about doing the last task of the night: counting the till.

He popped open the register, noting the almost overflowing amount of bits therein, and proceeded to open up the ledger underneath the counter and sort the bits into bags. These bags would then go to the First Equestrian Bank of Ponyville, where they would counted again and deposited into the Cakes bank account. The task was mind numbing, sorting the bits into stacks of ten and adding them up for input into the family business ledger. At least it beat unplugging toilets.

Halfway through his tally, the bell over the front door rings. Pound silently curses himself, thinking that he forgot to lock the front door. He did remember to flip the open sign to closed, but he’s unsure if he locked the door or not. Wait, that’s just silly, he thinks to himself, I locked the door before I flipped the sign. His eyes wander to the door up front and mind shuts down. Standing in the light of the evening sun is Flurry Heart. Where earlier in the day she was wearing her royal regalia (petryal, crown, princess shoes, and dangling crystal earrings) along with the lofty pink gown that was standard issue with the princesses, it seemed. Now, now she was wearing a chiffon that was so sheer, he could make out the color of her nipples ( a smoky gray) and see the tuft of thick fur that covered her pubic mons.

He gapes at the princess, practically nude in the setting sun’s light, and then notices she looks taller. As his eyes peer down her body, he sees that her hooves are wedged into a decadently high pair of stiletto shoes. How her frogs aren’t killing her is something Pound can’t even guess. And the nude stockings she has on are only making the throbbing in Pound’s crotch that much more painful. She wears nothing else, not even her crown.

“Hi,” Flurry says, “did I come at a bad time?”

“Uh, maybe?” Pound says dumbly, “Luna’s Sweet Snatch, Flurry, what are you-?”

“Oh, this?” Flurry responds, twirling a little to give Pound a little more of a show, “nights can get so warm here in Ponyville and since the conference broke up for the day, I thought I might come over here and have a sleep over.”

The devilish grin on her muzzle deepens when she sees the blush brighten on Pound’s face.

“Uh,” is all that Pound can find in mind to say. The vision before him is like nothing he expected to see, not in his teen years anyway.

Flurry, as if on cue, starts to strut, yes strut, her way towards an agog Pound. She knows, judging by how fidgety Pound is getting, that her form is shifting and bouncing in all the right places. She had been an early bloomer from the word go; she was the first in her class to go into estrus (only nine years old!) and she was the first in her class to grow teats (only a year later.) The shoes she wears are giving her legs even more definition, and she has been practicing lifting her tail like Fleur De Lis for the last six months in secret.

When she reaches the counter, she leans down, the chiffon falling off her bust a ways, revealing a valley of young, pert cleavage; she is no more than a horn length away from Pound’s head and she can feel his warm breath on her face. She lids her eyes in a sultry way which garners even more attention from the almost catatonic colt.

“I was wondering,” Flurry says in the most seductive voice she can manage, “if I can sleep in your bed tonight. If we having a sleepover, then I want to know a big, strong colt like yourself will keep me warm.”

Pound doesn’t trust himself enough to speak so he nods dimly. This brightens the mischievous grin Flurry has and she leans forward; her lips capture Pound’s and she hums in delight. His lips taste a bit like red velvet cake and she can feel the wetness of her marehood leaking out down her legs. She hopes that Pound doesn’t see it. Already, she feels that Pound has caught onto her musk because she can see his pupils dilating to the point where he has no irises at all. Hook, line, and sinker!

Her lips parts and her tongue departs to separate Pound’s orifice; he obliges willingly enough and then the pair are engaged in a dominance game. It is a game that Flurry easily wins. When they separate for air, a flush rises over Pound’s neck, chest, and arms. His wings have also sprung out erect; his breath is coming out shallow and ragged, like he’s been flying at high altitude for hours.

Flurry, knowing full well and good what state Pound is in now, leans right next to one of his ears and whispers, “Upstairs, now.”

The pair quickly rush up the steps towards the Cake’s living quarters. If either had known that Pinkie was home, they probably wouldn’t have bothered to thunder through the house like that, but they had, causing a minor quake to happen in Pinkie’s loft. (More on that later.) By the time they reach Pound’s bedroom, Pound is mostly nude, with naught but a pair of briefs on him. Flurry has shed her outfit and stands in front of her target with fully erect nipples and a labia that is puffy with need.

“Flurry,” Pound moans, “I don’t know if we should do this…”

“It’ll be fine, Pounder,” Flurry assures, drawing close enough to him that her teats are level with his eyes, “I’ve already gone through estrus for the season and Mom taught me a few contraceptive spells, just in case.”

“That’s well and good and all,” Pound whimpers, “but I haven’t ever done this before.”

“That’s okay,” Flurry whispers, going to her knees between Pounds thighs, “it’ll be my first time, too. Now, hold still.”

Pound does as instructed only to receive a shock when Flurry fishes his stallionhood from his underwear. She stares at it avidly, lovingly stroking the shaft while admiring it’s features.

“A little longer and thicker than my Dad’s,” Flurry comments, “and so warm! Oh, I can’t wait to put this inside me.”

“Flurry…” Pound whines again, writhing under her ministrations.

“It’s okay, I’m just going to pump you for a bit to get you primed,” Flurry explains, licking her lips, “then we go onto the main course.”

She strokes his shaft, teasing him with licks here and there along his length and occasionally using her teats to illicit a breathy moan from the colt. Her loins burn with want, with need, but she paces herself, getting her once and future coltfriend as erect as possible. Give his already aroused state, it doesn’t take much to get him steel hard. Flurry is on another plane, as well, her heart thumping against her rib cage in nervous anticipation.

She sits astride Pounds thighs as she gently guides down to his back; she hasn’t even considered to remove his underwear, her need is so great. She sidles up to his crotch, the turgid pride standing fully erect now and she leans down to kiss it. This sends shudders through Pound and he moans in pleasure. Flurry figures it’s now or never to get this other with, so she begins to lift a leg to over Pounds sizable stallionhood. Her arousal is such that she doesn’t hear the sound of the door crash open, she doesn’t hear the pounding hoofsteps marching through the living room or the second resounding crash the flings Pound’s bedroom door open. She does hear the collective gasp behind them, though.

“POUND CAKE! PRINCESS FLURRY HEART! WHAT IN THE NAME OF FAUST ARE TWO DOING!”

Now back to the present. It seems the stomping of Furry and Pound’s hooves resulted in Strawberry Cream’s soup spilling everywhere and a rather irate pink filly crying over her ruined meal. Pinke, who had another of her Pinkie Sense flashes, rushed over to deal with her upset foal, then dashed over to the Ponyville Schoolhouse to speak with Mrs. Cake. This is how Cup was able to stop her baby colt from losing his innocence (and prevent the Crystal Empire from burning Equestria to the ground.)

“I expect you two downstairs, fully dressed, in ten minutes.” Mrs. Cake announced.

“Wait, what?” Flurry exclaimed, “It took me forty minutes to get into my chiffon!”

“And it took you less than two minutes to get out of it. Ten minutes.” Mrs. Cake warned and stumped out of the room.