Author's Note

Characters Used: Anonymous, Pinkie Pie
Perspective: Second Person, Anonymous
Fetish: Futanari
Type: Humor

F#1.2: Pinkie's Pizza Delivery

Day HUNGRY MAN in Equestria. It's F-F-F-FRIDAY NIGHT MOTHERFUCKER and you're feeling a little peckish after work. It's been a long day of hard, tough, mind-numbing paper shuffling and procrastination. Why stress yourself out right at the start of the weekend? Fuck cooking dinner, it's time to order a sweet pizza pie!

Straight to your door, 30 minutes or it's free! How could you go wrong? You ring up Ponimino's, fistful of bits in hand, ready to order a large plain pizza with left beef when your devilish side gets a hold of you. Oh yes, there would be far more than pizza in this order, far more indeed.

"Large Cheese Pizza. 2 Litre bottle of Faygo," you say, teeth chattering in anticipation for your next item.

"And will that be all sire?" the sweet sounding mare asks.

"No, it won't, I'd like to sweeten the deal."

"Sweeten the deal?" she says lowly, barely a whisper.

You huff and puff into the phone, the feedback from your heavy breathing rustling in your own ear.

"Lava cakes," you say, tongue licking your lips in anticipation,"yes, miss, lava cakes. Please and thank you."

"Okay, all together that'll be 21.42, and if it takes more than thirty minutes it's free!"

She hangs up on you, leaving you to rub your hands together in anticipation for your treats.

"Ah! The lava cake," you pronounce lavishly, arms spread wide and voice ringing out in your apartment.

It's been so long since you've treated yourself, and what better way than with the dusty, crusty outer shell and the blazing gooey molten core of the Poni Hut's lava cake. You recline in your favorite chair and flick on the tube, watching with intent the 6 o'clock news.

Ding DONG

"PIZZA MAN!" you shout, jumping up and slamming your shin into the coffee table. Before staggering to the narrow hallway leading to the door, you glance at the clock under the TV. Damn! Only 6:28. Maybe if you wait three minutes. . .

"Hello!" there is a knock at the door, "pizza delivery!"

Your tummy grumbles, it's not gonna make it three minutes. You skedaddle to the door, money (with tip of course, they only make minimum wage after all!) in hand.

"Hey! How are—" you're taken aback due to the strange sight before you.

Standing in the semi-grimy tiled hallway of your apartment complex was none other than Pinkie Pie. Her curl pink locks capped off in a cute blue Ponimino's hat, visor pointed forward. Under the shade of her cap was two wide eyes, snorting nostrils, and worst of all her tongue! Her long, wet tongue lolled out of her mouth, waves of hot breathing washing out of her and rolling down that dripping tongue. The strangest part, perhaps, was the fact that she was standing on two legs, coming up almost to your height. One forehoof rested on the door's frame for support, the other shakily held up a box of pizza.

"Pinkie, what are you doing here?"

"I'm a delivery mare, Anon, and I'm here to deliver to you," Her blue polo uniform looking slightly baggy as it hung over her tummy.

"Wow, okay, guess it's just a night job?"

"Y-yeah," her wide eyes were starting to freak you out.

You attempt to hand her the money, but she just shakes her head, "new policy, you've gotta open up the box and inspect the pizza."

"Huh?"

"Open the box," she pressures, "to make sure it's what your ordered!"

"Well, if it's a new policy. . ."

Your hand descends for the pizza box's lid, apprehension slowing your movement. She was panting heavier now. In the back of your mind you notice you can't see a bag with the lava cakes or soda in it. What is this madness?

You lift it up slowly, light breaking into the dark recesses of the pizza box. You feel like Indiana, trying to replace the idol with the bag of sand! Pinkie's eyes pierce into your soul, you know what emotion they are reflecting at you, lust! Suddenly your arm jerks forward, throwing up the lid of the box and revealing all to god's glowing light.

Your lungs draw in air as your body gets ready to scream in shock, but nothing comes out. There, in the middle of your pizza box, right where the little white pizza table should be, THE HEAD OF PINKIE PIE'S FUTANARI HORSE COCK!

The alien object pulsates with sexual energy, the tip flaring. Strings of cheese goodness are draped around it, it is one with the pizza pie! A small stream of precum dribbles out, and unwanted topping to your Friday night snack!

"This is what you wanted right, Anon?" Pinkie asks, her voice dripping and sticky with wanton lecherous giddy, "a cheesy pizza with extra sausage!"

A ropy shot of cum accidentally squirts out, coating your shirt and face in horse baby goo. Just a simple drop enters your mouth and you recoil in disgust, at first. . .

You swish it in your mouth like a wine-o.

"You've been eating a lot of Pineapple Pizza, haven't you?"