"Any day now," said Mrs. Cake, patting her belly. "Any day now." Pregnancy was rougher than she remembered; she'd kept herself in fine shape, but it had been eighteen years since the last time she'd given birth. She was doing her best to take it easy, but running a bakery - even with the help of your family - meant that you had to spend some of the day on your feet.
"You okay, Mom?" Pound Cake asked. "I can take over if you need to sit down."
"I'll be okay for a little longer," said Mrs. Cake. She returned to stirring the batter and glanced over at Pound Cake's work. Her son had proven himself to be skilled and precise when it came to cake decorations, which had permitted Sugarcube Corner to take on complex and ambitious orders. A couple years ago he'd made a gorgeous house-shaped cake and a marzipan surfer on a wave of frosting, and his proud parents had put them in the window of the shop - and customers had taken notice. Right now he was creating multicolored flowers out of frosting, which he could do in his sleep.
"I could use a little support, actually," said Mrs. Cake, scooting herself and her mixing bowl towards Pound Cake. "I'll lean on you if I need a little support, okay?"
"Sure thing, Mom," said Pound Cake. Nervously, guiltily, he shifted his eyes toward his mom's breasts. Pregnancy had made them bigger, in anticipation of breastfeeding the cake family's newest set of twins, and now they were the biggest tits Pound Cake had ever seen in person. He didn't want to be turned on by his mom, but by Celestia, he was a breast man and there was just no ignoring those things.
He moved his arm in a careful motion, crafting a red frosting petal, and his elbow bumped against his mom's left breast. He gasped involuntarily as he brushed against the firm round tit, and mumbled an apology. Casual, over-the-clothes contact with his mom's bosom wasn't illicit, of course; even a hug would have brought him in closer contact to Mrs. Cake's boobs. But he felt the need to apologize, because - while his mother had no way of knowing this - he was getting a boner.
He frowned at himself as he went back to work. Watching his mom grow more and more pregnant had been tough on him. Not only were her bigger breasts a constant distraction, but Pound was discovering that he had a fetish for pregnant women. And that wouldn't have been so shameful if the focus of his fetish hadn't been his own mother. The way she looked now - big-bellied, with swollen breasts - was how she'd looked when she was pregnant with him. And somehow - Celestia forgive him - that made it hotter.
His elbow bumped Mrs. Cake's breast again, and he whimpered shamefully. How'd it happen again? he asked himself. After the first bump he'd been so careful, his motions had been so precise - but he'd managed to accidentally touch her again. Was she closer? He looked to the side... and she was closer to him, her bowl and her ingredients a few inches closer as well.
Mrs. Cake turned her head, and Pound's head jerked upwards, meeting her eyes. "Don't worry about it," she said, smiling kindly. "They get in my way too. They're just huge lately." Pound Cake laughed weakly and tried to keep himself from cringing as his pants grew tighter. Just being around his fat-titted mom was hard enough, but hearing her talk about her boobs was making it impossible. "Might have to milk them again soon..."
Pound Cake felt himself starting to sweat. Now she was talking about milking herself. This was torture. Mrs. Cake had unusually productive milk glands, and in anticipation of future nursing, they'd started to require manual milking. With her due date fast approaching, Mrs. Cake had begun to store bottles of her milk in the freezer, and Pound couldn't help but imagine what it tasted like. A more impulsive young stallion would have thrown open the fridge, thawed one of the bottles, and satisfied his curiosity with a long, fearless gulp. But Pound Cake had more self-control than that, so he just let himself be tortured by his overactive, perverted imagination.
But that wasn't to say that Pound Cake had never done anything he was ashamed of. Years ago, he and Pumpkin Cake had discovered a tiny crack in the wall between their bedroom and their parents'. It was hardly noticeable from the parents' side, because it was between two wall panels - and because the kids' side was usually covered by a dresser, no light shone through it. But if you moved the dresser aside, you had the perfect vantage point to spy on Mr. or Mrs. Cake. This hadn't been a particularly enticing prospect at first... but last week, when Mrs. Cake had gone into her bedroom to pump her breast milk, Pound Cake had looked in on her. Heart racing, his stomach doing flips, he watched her pull her shirt over her head and unhook her bra, freeing those fat tits to bounce out in the open air. He told himself that he would only watch, but he couldn't stop his hand from sliding down into his underwear. Whimpering with shame, he'd jerked himself off as his mom had pumped milk from her tits.
And the memory of that afternoon certainly didn't make it easier to spend time around his mom. He was pretty sure it'd get easier after she gave birth - she wouldn't have that big belly that fascinated him, and her boobs would go back to normal size... but she'd still be pumping herself for a while, so he'd just have to take it one day at a time.
Shit, he really needed a girlfriend.
Pound Cake felt his mom's fingers curling around his shoulder, and she leaned her weight on him, pressing the side of her breast into his arm. He tensed his wing muscles, trying to keep them from extending; fortunately for him, and for Pegasi all over Equestria, it was easier to fight back against a wingboner than a dickboner. "Sorry, sweetie," said Mrs. Cake, "Can I just lean on you for a minute?"
"Yeah!" he yelped. "Of course!" He willed himself not to feel the soft flesh of his mom's milk-swollen boob on his arm. Tried to imagine that it was something else. A warm lump of cookie dough, maybe. But he felt it rise and fall with her breaths, and as he looked down at the table in front of him, desperately trying to focus on the delicate frosting flowers he was creating. But once his mom was out of his field of vision, his imagination took over. He began to picture her naked, her nipples leaking milk, snuggling up against him. His fingers clenched, and the tube of frosting in his hand spurted a thick white glob onto the wax paper he was working on.
"Ooh, little spill there, sweetie," said Mrs. Cake, extending a finger to scoop up the errant glob. "Let me get that." Pound Cake turned to look, and saw her smile as she brought it past her lips.
"Heh," chuckled Pound Cake, "You always scolded me when I ate spilled frosting..."
Mrs. Cake shook him playfully, and her softly jiggling tits bumped against him. "Well, you were a naughty kid wasting ingredients just so he could have a sweet treat," she said, "I'm a pregnant woman. And pregnant women get... cravings."
Pound Cake couldn't help but read an entire erotic novel's worth of subtext into the way she pronounced the word "cravings." No, no, she couldn't possibly mean anything like that... she was his mom. All this touching, this casual contact - it was just normal interaction between a mom and her son. Of course.
"Oh, crumbs," Mrs. Cake muttered. She put her hand to her chest, running her fingers over both her nipples, and Pound Cake looked down at them. Dark stains were spreading across both nipples - a common occurrence lately, as her body produced enough milk to feed twins. "Sweetie, I need to pump. Can you help me take the stairs?"
"Yeah, of course," said Pound Cake. Thinking about Mrs. Cake pumping her breasts was only adding to his nervous arousal, but taking a break from working with his mom would be good for him. It would give him a chance to jerk off - and although he'd be ashamed of himself, it would be better than stewing in one-sided, incestuous sexual tension all day. He set down his tools, pushed away from the table, and put his arm around his mom, supporting her as they left the kitchen and ascended the stairs. Just a little longer, he told himself, as each step made his mom's tits wobble into him. Just a little longer, and he could jerk himself off. Maybe he'd peek in on his mom through the crack in the wall. Yes, it was wrong, but after this stressful day, he owed himself a little treat.
They made it to Mrs. Cake's bedroom, and Pound Cake set her down on the bed. "Could you get the pump, sweetie?" she asked him. Pound Cake wanted to refuse - to excuse himself as quickly as possible - but of course he couldn't refuse to help his mother. He picked up the breast pump from the dresser - the same breast pump that had sucked milk from his mother's breasts again and again - and handed it to her.
"Well," said Pound Cake, backing towards the door, "I guess you're okay. I'll get back to the decorating... in a little bit..."
"Aw," said Mrs. Cake, looking at Pound Cake with a wry smile, "You don't like hanging out with your mom, huh?"
"Uh..." Pound Cake had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. "I like hanging out with you just fine," he said. "But this is, you know... private."
"Oh, p'shaw," said Mrs. Cake. "I'm just making milk to feed my babies with. It's just food prep, Pound Cake. The same sort of work we do all day down there in the kitchen."
"But it's... different," Pound Cake protested weakly.
"What? Because it comes from my breasts?" she said, lifting both her swollen breasts. The gentle pressure of her fingers seemed to force out a trickle of milk, and the dark stains on her shirt grew slightly. Pound Cake felt his mouth water. "Pound Cake, you're a man now, but you should know that not everything that involves breasts is sexual."
"Okay..." said Pound Cake, "But what do you need me here for?"
Mrs. Cake rolled her eyes. "Because pumping myself is boring, Pound Cake. It's no fun to just sit on my bed and let the pump do its work."
Pound Cake felt trapped. He wanted to back out of the doorway and duck into his room... but if he did that, it was almost like admitting that he did find his mom's breast-pumping to be sexual. The best thing was to be calm and casual. He took a deep breath and sat beside his mom, offering her the pump. She ignored him, for the moment, and instead began to pull her shirt upwards exposing her round, pregnant belly. Pound Cake caught himself helplessly staring again - that big blue belly was captivating. It was the same belly he'd shared with his twin sister, almost two decades ago - and his mom had kept herself beautiful all that time.
Her shirt went higher, and as she lifted it over her face - covering up her eyes - Pound Cake took the opportunity to shamelessly ogle his mom's tits. Her bra was a sensible, beige garment - not designed to be sexy - but the breasts it held were jaw-dropping, huge and round, still leaking warm, fresh milk. His head snapped up to meet her eyes once she got her shirt over her head - but she smirked at him, as if she'd caught him looking.
"They're pretty big, aren't they?" she said. "Any of the girls in your class have boobs this big, Pound Cake?"
"N-no," stammered Pound Cake.
"Have you spent a lot of time staring at those girls?" his mom asked. "Or just staring at me?"
"Mom!"
"Oh, don't be embarrassed," said Mrs Cake. "I remember what was like to be a horny eighteen-year-old. I used to notice when a handsome stallion was packing something big... especially when he was excited." Pound Cake shifted uncomfortably. He did have a boner - he'd had one for a while - but he thought he was pretty good at hiding it. On the other hand, he was pretty big down there. Most of the time he was proud of that, but sometimes it was... inconvenient. "And it's even easier to tell when the stallion is a pegasus," Mrs. Cake continued, casually unhooking her bra. "Everyone knows how their wings pop up when they're excited... but if you watch them carefully, you can tell when they're fighting to keep their wings under control. When you know what to look for, you can tell when a pegasus has got a little crush... on someone he thinks he shouldn't."
Pound Cake's heart was thumping in his chest. She knew. And she was teasing him, instead of scolding him... he didn't understand why his mom would torture him instead of just chewing him out, but... well, he deserved it. He deserved whatever psychological punishment his mom felt was appropriate.
Mrs. Cake's bra came off, and she set it beside her on the bedspread. Her breasts, big and blue, topped with thick pink nipples, were out in the open. Pound Cake's eyes flicked down in their direction, and he saw two thin trickles of milk running down along their curves. As Pound Cake sat there, motionless, Mrs. Cake took the pump from his hand and pressed the transparent cup against her right breast. "Ohh," she moaned, as the mechanism whirred and the cup began to fill with milk, "I can't tell you how good it feels to relieve this pressure, Pound Cake. Can you imagine how painful it would be if I just let this pressure build up inside me?" She sighed and smiled peacefully. "When your body wants something, sweetie... sometimes you're better off not fighting it."
Pound Cake gulped. His mouth was so dry.
"I don't suppose you remember what my breast milk tastes like, Pound Cake," said Mrs. Cake. "It's been an awfully long time, but you certainly liked it before." She lifted up her left breast - the one she wasn't pumping - and shifted it slightly in his direction. "This might be your last chance to get a taste of it."
Pound Cake moved his mouth, trying to think of something, anything to say. "I mean it," prodded Mrs. Cake. "I've seen the way you look at them. I've seen your wings twitch. I've seen you hide the bulge in your pants. I know what you want, Pound Cake. So... come and get it."
With trembling lips, Pound Cake leaned down and brought his mouth down to his mom's left breast. He exhaled a hot breath onto her skin - and then he latched onto it, running his tongue over the fat nipple, making Mrs. Cake moan and throw back her head. He began to suck - getting nothing at first, but then feeling a trickle of warm milk flowing onto his tongue.
It was better than he could have imagined, sweet and rich and... familiar. He suckled eagerly - there wasn't enough to fill his mouth, but each pull on her tit gave him another taste of mother's milk. He felt Mrs. Cake place her hand on his head, gently patting him, rustling his hair. He put his arms around her, leaning his weight into her body, letting her belly support him as he drank. The warmth of her body, the beat of her heart, and the taste of her milk... it almost lulled him to sleep, just as it must have done years ago.
Eventually she began to run dry, running down to the last few drops, and Pound Cake pulled his lips from her tit. Her other breast was also dry, it seemed, because she pulled the pump from her right breast and set it aside. "Was that good, baby?" she asked, patting him on the cheek.
"Mmm," he murmured, nodding sleepily.
"I'm glad you liked it," said Mrs. Cake. "Thank you for helping me, sweetie." Her hand went from his cheek to his chest, and she stroked his skin through his shirt. Pound Cake was something of an athlete, and he'd learned not to be tempted by the fattening treats that surrounded him all day - so his chest was flat and firm. More than a few young women had admiringly snuck peeks at him as he'd changed clothes after gym class - but he'd never imagined that his mom would have noticed him in that way. He thought nothing of walking around the house shirtless after a shower... had he been tempting his mother all this time?
"I think I could help you relieve a little pressure too," said Mrs. Cake, as her hand crept closer to the waistband of his jeans. "It's so uncomfortable to be swollen with need and all pent up..." She flicked open the button of his pants, then slowly pulled down the zipper. "And it's so good to have someone who'll help..."
Pound Cake was motionless, shuddering, helpless to resist. He knew it was wrong, but he had wanted this too much, for too long. He couldn't fight back against it, not when it was being handed to him like this. He obligingly lifted his butt as Mrs. Cake pulled down his pants and his white briefs, pulling his dick free to stand upright in the open air. His cock was the same pale tone as his skin, but speckled with brown the color of his hair. At eleven inches, it was comfortably above average, and it trembled with desire and glistened with pale precum.
"Time for mama to taste your milk," said Mrs Cake. She shuffled on the bed, finding it a little difficult to lean herself down over her pregnant belly. Ultimately, she was forced to lay her body down on the bed, resting her head on Pound Cake's bare thigh so that his cock dominated her vision, standing above her like a tower of quivering flesh. She extended her tongue and licked the base of the shaft, making Pound Cake whimper. She swiped her tongue along his scrotum and up his shaft, dragging her wet tongue up its length and then licking the gleaming bead of pre from his tip.
"Ooh, it's good," moaned Mrs. Cake, hovering her nose over her son's crotch and breathing in his musk. "When you're around all this sugar, I suppose you can't help but be sweet."
"Th-thanks, Mom," said Pound Cake feebly.
She dove back in, encircling his flared head with her lips. Her tongue swirled around his sensitive tip, lapping up each drop of pre as it burbled up from his slit. His hips bucked involuntarily, and she took him deeper into her mouth, her lips embracing every inch of his cock as her head descended. "Go slow," whispered Pound Cake."I... I'm already close..."
Mrs. Cake lifted her head slowly, dragging her moist lips along his shaft and taking another taste of his sweet pre on the way up. She turned her head upwards once she'd taken her lips off his cock, and stared up into his eyes. "Too sensitive down there?" she said mockingly. "My boy needs to develop some stamina. You've got such a good body and a nice long cock... if you learn to use those gifts properly, you're going to be able to give a girl everything she needs."
She grasped the base of his dick. "Tell me, Pound Cake," she said. "The girls seem to like you. Those fillies I see you with... have you done anything with them?"
"J-just this," stammered Pound Cake. "M-Marigold Star sucked me off at a house party..."
"Kids these days," said Mrs. Cake, with mock disapproval. "Marigold Star,eh? So you're going after orange unicorns?" She rubbed her thumb over the tight skin of his shaft. "I imagine your twin sister would be very interested to hear that..."
"No," he protested, "It's not like that, Mom... she came after me..."
"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Cake. "Where did I get the idea that you had inappropriate feelings for a family member?" She giggled. "Don't worry, sweetie. I won't say a thing to Pumpkin." She took her hand off his shaft. "But if you've already had your dick sucked, then maybe we should try something else... I want to give my boy a good first time."
She sucked in her belly and began to work at her pants. Being nine months pregnant made them a tight fit, but once she had the zipper down they came off easily. "Woah, woah," said Pound Cake, "We can't... we can't!" But Mrs. Cake didn't slow down - her pants went lower, exposing her wide, round ass - so fat and yet so firm. What hope did Pound Cake have, sharing a house with a woman like this? Mature and mothering and voluptuous... none of his friends had moms who were half as sexy as his. The deck had been stacked against him from the start.
"Sure we can," said Mrs. Cake. "This is the best time for it, really. I can't get any more pregnant, can I?"
Pound Cake's heart was thundering in his chest. He couldn't think straight. He knew this was wrong - and he could still zip his pants up and walk out of this room - but he had no strength left to resist. He felt like he was falling, letting gravity take him. He'd felt the same thing when Marigold Star had cornered him at the house party and dragged him up to the bedroom - but this was a hundred times more wrong and so much hotter. It felt so good to be seduced, and he knew he was doomed to give in, again and again...
Mrs. Cake pulled off her panties and threw them to the floor. There was her cutie mark, three delectable cupcakes topped with pink frosting - and there was her pussy, topped with a swirl of pink hair. "Come on, Pound Cake," she said. "Let Mommy be your first."
Pound Cake was done fighting. Being wanted felt so good, and his mother's body was so beautiful. He stood from the bed and dropped his pants to the ground, then pulled his shirt over his head. "Ooh," said Mrs. Cake, once her son's chest was exposed. "How do you keep that figure, Pound Cake? I know you're young, but that is impressive."
Pound Cake just laughed nervously, and Mrs. Cake turned her body around, propping herself up on the bed. "I hope I can trust you to do most of the work, dear," she said, patting her belly. "I'm carrying twins, you know..."
"Yeah," said Pound Cake. He crawled onto the bed and took hold of his mom's hips, lifting them for easier access to her dripping pussy. His cock twitched as he brought his hips closer to hers - he stared down at her slick pussy lips, intensely, burningly aware of how wrong this all was. His mother's thick thighs in his hands. His mother's pussy, wet with arousal and inches from the tip of his cock. His first time.
He pushed his tip past her pussy lips, and she released a long sigh. "Oh, Pound Cake," she breathed. "Such a big boy." He slid himself further in, grunting as he felt himself surrounded by his mother's love tunnel. It was a smooth, easy entry - she wasn't loose, but giving birth to Pound Cake and his sister had left her wide enough that even a thick cock like Pound Cake's went in easily. "Ooh, Mama wants it deep," she said. "Won't you give it to me, Pound Cake?"
"Yeah," said Pound Cake. "Yeah."
"Tell me," said Mrs. Cake. "Tell me what you're going to do."
"I'm going to fuck you deep," said Pound Cake. "I'm going to fill you up with stallion meat and blow my load inside you." He paused, sliding deeper, and he felt himself hit the back wall of her pussy. "M-mom."
"Oh yes," said Mrs Cake, rolling her hips languidly. "That's what mommy wants. Fill mommy up with that sweet cream." She put her hands on her tits and fingered her fat nipples.
Pound Cake began to pump his hips slowly, moving his shaft in and out, adjusting to the feeling of pussy walls surrounding him. He dug his fingers into the soft blue skin of his mom's thighs, clenching his teeth to try and stave off orgasm. "Oh, fuck, Mom," he groaned. "I can't believe I'm actually fucking you..."
"You're doing great, sweetie," said Mrs. Cake. "You're such a big and strong young stallion, Pound Cake. Your cock feels so good in mommy's pussy." Her legs tensed in his hands, gently kicking as her breaths came quicker. "It's okay to go faster, dear."
"Okay," said Pound Cake. He removed one hand from his mother's thigh and set it on her belly, feeling the stretched-taut skin. It was so full, so fertile, bearing two little siblings for Pound Cake. As he sped up his thrusts, he stroked the bare skin. This was the same womb he'd grown in. The same birth canal he'd come through. And now he was fucking it, filling it with his cock. He was going to cum inside her, just like his father had. The sheer, overwhelming wrongness sent a shiver through him. His cock surged, his whole body felt electrified. Now that he was doing this, what couldn't he do? What rule couldn't he break, now that he was literally a motherfucker?
He leaned forward, draping his body over Mrs. Cake's belly, and suckled at her tits again. There wasn't much left in her, just a faint memory of milk. So he took her right nipple gently between his front teeth and teased it with his tongue, lapping at it as he bucked his hips. He was thrusting harder now, making his mom's whole body shake with each movement. Her body was all curves, from her thick thighs to her gravid belly to her fat round tits, and every curve quaked with the growing force of Pound Cake's pounding.
"Oh, that's how it's done, sweetie," moaned Mrs Cake. "Your mama's a grown woman, Pound Cake! She can take a fucking from a big strong boy!"
"Yeah," grunted Pound Cake, "I'm your big boy, aren't I, mom? Your handsome stallion? Your big-dicked pride and joy?" He felt his balls tightening, each stroke of his cock bringing climax closer and closer. "I want to make you cum, Mom," he said, stroking her belly as he thrust deep into her.
"Yes," whispered Mrs. Cake, "Mommy's pussy is so close. Just keep it up, Pound Cake, just fuck mommy hard and deep, you're doing so good."
"I'm gonna cum too, Mom," Pound Cake groaned. "I'm gonna cum soon, but I'm gonna make sure you cum no matter what."
"I know you will," said Mrs. Cake, "Just cum in mommy's pussy, sweetie. Just let go of all that cum whenever you need to, my big... strong... stallion."
He put both his hand on her thighs again and thrust faster, his movements frenzied as he fought to bring both of them to completion. As he passed the point of no return, and as his body lurched towards climax, he hammered at his mother's cunt, desperate to finish the job. When his orgasm hit, and he felt himself releasing the biggest load of his life, he didn't let up. His twitching, shooting cock kept pistoning, and his jizz leaked from her pussy onto the bedspread. He felt her body tense up, and her pussy clench around his shaft, and still he kept pumping in and out, tirelessly, sweat pouring down his face.
"Pound Cake-" whimpered Mrs. Cake, as her pussy pulsed around her son's shaft, milking the last of the cum from her son's virile young cock. Finally, Pound Cake let himself collapse, limply falling over his mother's full, round belly, and felt her body quaking underneath him, her walls throbbing around his shaft.
Mrs. Cake moaned and bit her lip, trying not to cry out as she came. Pound Cake was grateful for her discretion; now that his passionate frenzy had faded with his climax, he was acutely aware of the possibility of getting caught. There shouldn't be anyone upstairs, but there was nothing stopping Pumpkin Cake - or Mr. Cake, Celestia forbid - from bursting through the door and seeing him balls-deep in his mom's cum-drooling pussy.
With his body against hers, he felt her climax subsiding - slowly, her breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, and her body relaxed. "Pound Cake," she whispered, "You're a real stallion, Pound Cake. You're going to make some lucky filly a wonderful husband."
"Thanks, Mom," he said. He rolled off of her, sliding his cum-slicked cock from her pussy. "Thanks for everything."
Carrot Cake bit his lip as he came, spilling a load of thick white jizz over the towel he'd laid out. He grunted pitifully, trying not to make any noise that could be heard through the wall. The tiny crack in the wall didn't let much sound through, but better safe than sorry. In the empty space left behind by orgasm, a complex cocktail of emotions rushed to the front of his mind. Shame and relief were familiar; they were the same things he felt every time he used the crack to peek in on his wife. But seeing his own son fuck his wife - that was a new one. He'd watched her feed him with her breasts, and then seduce him - and they'd fucked on her bed, right where Carrot Cake could see them.
He'd known about the crack in the wall since before Pound and Pumpkin Cake were born, and through it, he'd discovered a love of watching. Early on, he'd asked his wife to masturbate on the bed while he watched through the crack - but soon they'd both wanted more. They'd invited stallions over to fuck her on the bed - first friends, then friends of friends, then strangers. Pinkie Pie was an eager participant at times - although they both preferred to have a man in the bedroom, Pinkie was always around and always up for some fun.
But there had never been anything like today - his own son, claiming his wife's pussy. And there might never be anything like it again. But it had been the greatest thrill of his life, the most intense climax he'd ever experienced. And he'd never been prouder of Pound Cake. Today, his boy was truly a stallion.
Author's Note
This story was a commission! If you want one of your own, see my commission policy and prices here. I can also be reached at massdriver77 {at} gmail {dot} com, or on Discord at MassDriver#3858.
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