Fallout Equestria: Boundless

Chapters

Weighty Worries
A Trot in the Dark
Doorways and Dalliance

Weighty Worries

Being a freelancer has its perks. There's ups and downs, but unless things are particularly desperate you get to choose your own work. This lets you avoid the most dangerous elements of wasteland life. So when a letter slides under your door, offering a four-digit sum of caps to attend to an important mare who's gone and gotten herself hurt, you can afford to be skeptical. The letter requests absolute secrecy - you're to travel to a long-ruined power station alone and not visibly armed, patch up the poor girl, then receive your money and leave. There's a lot of unknowns, but the reward is tempting enough to overpower your caution. And so you make the trip, carrying only the bare nescessities, and find yourself meandering through old, musty corridors in search of your mystery employer. Scattered signs of habitation lead you to a heavy-looking door, slightly ajar. A flickering light from within ushers you to peek inside.

You're not sure exactly what you were expecting. Crammed into what used to be an equipment storeroom is what you could only describe as a bizarre hybrid between a bedroom and a nest. Colourful squares and rolls of cloth and leather are stacked high on every available surface, including an old workbench that just about has enough room to hold a sewing machine and a desk lamp. The floor is coated with pillows, cushions and the occasional blanket of all makes, materials and qualities, radiating from a larger heap in the center. It's homely and comfortable-looking, if a little strange.

"Welcome. My sisters were accomodating, I hope?"

The mare's voice snaps you out of your momentary reverie and turns your attention to her - and she's quite the surprise as well. Nestled deeply in the middle of her extensive collection of textiles and padding is an alicorn, her head tilted in a mixture of bemusement and concern. She's also green, and vividly so. The sort of green you'd expect to see in picture books about woodlands and forests. Her mane is the same but darker, draping down across her shoulders in a pair of long ponytails. Even laying down, her raised head is just above your normal eye level, tipped with a fearsomely long horn. You stammer apologies and an excuse, and ask how you can help, fighting trepidation. All you were told was that someone very important is in need of medical attention and willing to pay handsomely. You're more used to patching up NCR goons and the pegasus refugees that have been falling out of the sky for the past few months. Giant mutant mares nesting in small seas of scavenged fabric aren't exactly your specialist subject.

The alicorn shifts her weight a little and hisses softly through her teeth. "...My name is Boundless," she begins, uncomfortable. "Two days ago I slipped and injured my leg, and it isn't healing as it should."

You nod and approach, asking her to show you. She motions over her shoulder, towards her hindquarters, and shifts her hindleg free of her bed/nest/heap with a little wince of pain. Up close, you make two important observations. First is that she's dressed, despite being several times larger than the average mare. She's not simply covered in cloth, but robed in a long, flowing coat that she presumably patched together from smaller garments. Second is that while the loose cloth obscures much of her form, there's no hiding the shape and size of her abdomen now that you can distinguish it clearly. She's pregnant, and quite prominently so. You blink, but remember yourself and turn your attention to her leg; graceful and slender, it's almost as long from hip to hoof as you are from head to tail. There's a long, nasty-looking gash just above her fetlock, crudely bandaged with some patchy linen that's almost soaked through with blood.

"I slipped on an embankment," Boundless explains with strained patience, "and caught it on some loose stones." Her face pales a little as you explain that you'll need to remove the makeshift bandage for a proper look, but she nods her approval. You sidle up to her as close as you dare and begin your work - for the most part she's a good patient, keeping herself still despite clear discomfort, and before long the two of you engage in some small talk. Just trivial things to keep her mind off her leg - the weather, her unusual yet comfortable home, that sort of thing. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she takes deep breaths, and as you finish tying a new bandage - this one dampened with healing potion to speed things up - she seems to have warmed up to you. She's smiling, at least.

"Thank you, hon. Normally we regenerate quite quickly, but... well." Boundless blushes faintly and averts her eyes. Confused, you enquire further. "No doubt you've noticed my other, ah, condition." She motions to her belly, squirming gently to make herself comfortable. "Our kind are fuelled by loose magic. Radiation. As you can see, I'm not just eating rads for on-" She cringes suddenly, moaning lowly through her teeth, but collects herself and continues, waving off your concern. "One. I'm sorry. Kicking. It's fine."

With her leg likely on the mend, you could ask her for your payment and go, but she's been agreeable thus far. More than that - she piques your curiosity - professional, and perhaps otherwise. You decide to take a risk and sit down by her side, and ask her how she got into this state. As far as you knew, mutants couldn't get pregnant in the first place. Boundless simply giggles at that. "Don't be silly, hon. The same way anyone does, plus a bit of cleverness." She says that last sentence in a happy, almost singsong tone, rolling slowly onto her side to rest. The giant nest of fabric begins to make more sense. Now that her tummy's not half-buried beneath her, you can begin to appreciate just how big she is. Her abdomen rises from the nest in a broad, convex curve, snugly bound by her jury-rigged attire. The fabric's struggling a little, judging by the stretch lines, but it's doing its job in covering her up.

Her gravid state would be unmistakable were she standing - the barrel-shaped swell hanging low and probably bulging out some way to her sides. It's lucky that her body's easily three to four times the size of the average mare's. This pregnancy would be obscenely, dangerously large on a normal pony's frame. You think for a few seconds - a little extrapolation leads you to guess that she's nearing her term. No more than a month or so away if the foal is particularly big. Or if there's more than one. Your mind begins to wander...

"Is something the matter?"

With a start, you catch yourself staring, then realise that, more accurately, she caught you. You shake your head frantically - you don't want to offend her. You've heard the stories about alicorns before. Piss her off and she could crush your heart with her magic, fry you to death with lightning; hell, she could probably crush you to death if she wanted. But she doesn't look upset - in fact, a warm, even playful smile slowly creeps across her face. She curls her forelegs against her chest and flutters her eyelashes, her tone of voice lowering ever so slightly. "You know, I don't think I've ever had a proper examination from a doctor before."

A cold sweat starts to bead on the back of your neck. She's seriously suggesting-

The door slides open with a loud screeching of metal, derailing your train of thought and sending it over a cliff. Framed in the opening is a second alicorn mare, so purple she looks like a storm cloud incarnate, and so stern that for a moment you fear she might be about to flash her horn and break you in half. "Sister. I see the healer has completed his work."

Boundless stammers for a moment, then pouts and crosses her hooves, blushing (that is, turning an even deeper shade of green). "Auri! Knock, please!"

The stern alicorn looks down on you disdainfully. "It is time for him to leave."

Boundless gets to her hooves with a little grunt, disturbing the nest she'd made for herself. The pair of them tower over you like the mythical princesses of Old Equestria, so there aren't many options except to sit and look small and harmless in an attempt to not die. Boundless huffs. "I'm sorry. This is Auriga, one of my sisters. She's very rude sometimes."

Auriga's face remains stone cold, and she gestures dismissively in your direction, flaring her wings. "And you, Sister, are too trusting. Have you not taken enough of a risk, inviting a stranger into our home? You are vulnerable."

Boundless steps between you and Auriga, inadvertently putting you in her shadow. More accurately, the shadow of her waistline. With a tiny twinge of self-satisfaction, you note that your earlier guess was correct. She reminds you of a mare you once saw trying to smuggle a full-sized keg past an NCR checkpoint by strapping it to her underside, scaled up. She's also a little shaky on her injured leg, but the healing potion should be dulling the pain by now, you hope. "He's been nothing but friendly and professional, Auri. You know I can't stand it when you get all hardheaded like this."

Auriga's glare softens just a fraction towards a look of concern. "I do not wish to argue, Sister. Only to warn."

Boundless nods and steps forward, gathering her sister into an awkward one-legged hug. She needs the other three working overtime to stay upright. "I know, Auri. Just please lighten up, I can look after myself if I need to."

Auriga rolls her eyes, but returns the gesture, leaning forward to support her sister. "Also, you have not eaten for several hours. Please, pay the stallion and let him be on his way."

Boundless releases her sibling, lowering her head with a sigh. Thinking fast, if not very rationally, you speak up; both mares turn to you in surprise. Boundless, you point out, is in a vulnerable state, just as Auriga claims. And her wound is still at risk of opening back up, or worse, developing an infection (unlikely, since you used half a bottle of heal-everything magical bullshit potion, but you don't mention that part). Wouldn't it be best if you stuck around for a little while, just to make sure that everything progresses as it should?

Auriga barely seems to register you, but Boundless gives you a tiny smirk and looks back to her sister with wide eyes and a trembling bottom lip. "He's right, Auri. What if it just gets worse? What if it gets infected or swollen and stops me from walking?"

Auriga wrinkles her muzzle and shoots you a look, but backs up and turns away from the door, into the corridor. "Very well, Sister. Rest assured that Corona and I will be keeping a close watch on our guest. For now, it is time for dinner." Her horn flickers, and she vanishes in a purple flash. You and Boundless share a look, and then she snorts, stifling a giggle.

"See - you're a dedicated professional!" She ushers you towards the door with her wing, so you gather your things and follow her. "Come on, hon. Evening meal, on the house. You like canned hay, don't you?"

You're not the biggest fan of canned hay, but it's hard to say no to an offer of free food.

As Boundless leads you away from her room and towards the heart of the alicorns' refuge, you quickly recognise why such unusual mares might choose a derelict power station as their home. For one thing, it's an old wartime structure, which means overengineering to the extreme. The rooms and corridors, depressingly gray and square as they may be, have broad hallways and high ceilings, and the concrete outer walls are so thick that it'd probably take a tank to do any lasting damage. The spark generators that the place was made to support, once designed to distill raw magic into usable electricity, probably wouldn't be so robust. A major radiation hazard for most ponies - and a fountain of manna for those that can eat the stuff. You're glad you thought ahead and brought RadAway; you should be safe for a week or so. Probably.

"Did you not meet my sisters as you came in?" Boundless asks, adjusting her coat. "I hoped that they'd be a little more welcoming; Auri was probably watching you from the moment you arrived, but Corona loves meeting new people. I asked her to deliver my letter in secret, but still..." You shrug, pointing out that the other alicorns obviously value seclusion. Maybe they'd only reveal themselves if they knew whether or not you were a threat? You arrived alone and not visibly armed. "Perhaps," she muses. "Corona is very smart, but she's also easily distracted, bless her. I'm sure she'll show up eventually." You continue in silence, and the drab surroundings quickly set your eyes wandering.

Boundless is surprisingly well-dressed, all things considered. The hem of her patchwork coat spills over her hindquarters and affords her some modesty - probably for the best, since standing at her full height puts her backside about level with your head. Her other clothes, while obviously strained in doing so, cover her body comprehensively despite the distinctive bulk of her midsection. Her gait is heavy, but paced and methodical enough to afford her a little grace. The mass of her swollen middle shifts her center of gravity downwards and towards the back, putting a distinctive sway into the motion of her hips as the muscles shift and bunch to compensate on every step. It's fascinating to watch... purely out of curiosity, of course. Of course.

"Here we are, hon. Make yourself comfortable." You arrive at a break room, or at least what used to be one, and it looks like the alicorns tidied it up. The floor and furniture aren't covered in two centuries' worth of dust, for one thing, and several boxes and bags are neatly stacked in one corner. The walls are clean, if bare. A few utilitarian tables and seating cushions are scattered around, but the cushions have been collected into little piles - no doubt to accomodate the larger ponies. Auriga is waiting, sat ramrod-straight and staring at the pair of you. Boundless nudges you forward, so you take a seat, and the rotund mare eases herself down across from you. She carries herself well, but the long sigh of relief she lets out, taking the weight off her hooves, tells a story all its own. You express a little concern, but she waves you off. Auriga, meanwhile, fetches one of the bags in her magic and empties into onto the table. Cans of processed food, firmly sealed bottles of water (and one of some kind of colourful sludge that you don't even want to guess at), and a smaller bag containing faintly glowing gemstones.

Boundless smiles at your bemused look. "Go ahead, hon. Help yourself." Auriga takes the mystery bottle and downs a gulp of the colourful stuff. Boundless pops some of the gems into her mouth. You slide one of the cans to your end of the table - and what a surprise, it's 'Apple Magic' Brand Apple-Flavored Processed Hay (It's apple-licious! Start your day the apple way! Try our new Ripe 'n' Juicy Sparkle-Cola, now with APPLES!). You've never had the faintest clue as to why the ponies of Old Equestria seemed to have such a massive fetish for apples.

Boundless pats the upper curve of her tummy, grinning as her cheek bulges with gemstones. She's not chewing or swallowing, just sucking on them with the eagerness of a filly that has a candy shop all to herself. Strangely enough, it's Auriga that speaks up to explain. "We subsist mostly on sources of raw or loose magic. Gemstones contain a lot of it, and my sister is very hungry." Boundless nods and mumbles something in the affirmative.

Auriga is an intimidating mare. While Boundless is all soft, flowing edges and round shapes, Auriga's short, spiky mane and angular features make her look like she was born on an anvil. Like her sister she's well dressed, but in a rough and practical conglomeration of canvas and armored padding. All business; nothing flowing or flattering. She wipes her mouth and raises her bottle of goo. "Also, this would kill you." The purple mare's tone is just as stern and borderline hostile as before, but at least she's trying to be helpful. You think. Apparently done with you already, she downs another mighty swig of the stuff.

You thank her - tersely - for the warning, and decide to focus on your meal.

Dinner progresses without incident. Auriga sits ramrod straight, silent as a tomb, like she's locked in a permanent state of standing guard. Boundless, once she's done with her gems (which she discreetly spits out and disposes of, their glow gone), asks you about yourself. You open up with what you can, through to be honest there's not much to say. You grew up in a small settlement out east and make your living travelling, patching up ponies that get themselves hurt. Ever since the NCR showed up and splintered pretty much every major faction in the land a year or so back, not to mention blowing up the entire sky, there's been no shortage of wounded and plenty of shortage in general.

The alicorns share a look. Auriga grunts and scowls, and you start to wonder if you said something wrong. Boundless speaks up, quickly changing the subject. "Auri, why don't you go and look for Corona? It's strange of her to miss dinner."

Auriga's scowl doesn't budge. "And leave you alone with this stranger, Sister?"

Boundless nods. "I'm going to go back to my room and get some rest. Our new friend can join me, if he wishes. Surely if he wanted to harm us he would have done something by now."

"I do not trust him. I will not see you hurt."

"Do you trust me, Auri?"

The purple mare rises to her hooves, eyes wide. "Sister!"

Boundless smiles placatingly. "I trust him. He has been nothing but polite, and my leg is feeling better already. Please, Auri - go find Corona. Maybe she's found a stash of old books. You know how she can be sometimes."

Auriga raises a hoof and opens her mouth, wings bristling at her sides. You're a half-second away from ducking for cover, but she gradually calms down and controls herself. "...Very well, Sister," she mutters, "I trust you, and I trust your judgment." She takes a slow breath turns her glare on you instead. "Hurt her, and I will break you." Her horn flashes and she teleports away to who-knows-where.

Boundless rises to her hooves and, once the pair of you have tidied up, guides you back towards her room. "Please forgive her, hon. Auri means well and she's doing her best. It's... difficult, sometimes." You ask what set her off; you don't think you said anything out of line, but better safe than sorry, right?

Boundless slows her walk and shakes her head sadly. "Months ago, everything changed. For the longest time, we were as one. Closer than sisters, closer than family. And then, in an instant, we were seperated from our Unity. The process was... not gentle." You're not sure you understand, but she continues. It sounds like she's kept this bottled up for a while, her voice quavering with emotion. "A thousand threads, tied in a great knot. And then you saw through the knot. What happens to the threads? They drift apart. They fray. They struggle for shape, and cling to whatever makes sense to them." She sniffs and wipes her eyes. "Auriga is our protector. It's all she knows."

You pat her shoulder, and she forces a sad smile. A few seconds pass and she sniffs, her expression slowly shifting to one of restrained amusement at the sight of you having to rear up just to reach. Her great green wing slowly drapes across your shoulders, pulling you into a warm, gentle hug against her side. "I'm sorry, hon. We shouldn't dwell on the past. All you should know is that my sisters and I have our little eccentricities." As she opens the door to her room and the smell of leather and assorted textiles hits your nostrils again, you jokingly point out that you gathered that last part already.

Boundless 'mhmm's, hanging up her coat. She takes her time bedding down in her little world of pillows and scraps as you close the door. "I have two great passions, hon. The first is tailoring. The second..." She trails off for a moment, huffing with exertion as she rolls onto her back, "...is this." She rests her forehooves on her the upward curve of her tummy, beaming with pride. It's only thanks to her long neck that she can see over that fecund swell. She'd need to stretch if she wanted to reach her navel.

"Now," she purrs, "if you don't mind taking a closer look? Just to make sure everything's going well."

You grin sheepishly, making your way to her side, and inform her that you can't do a proper examination straight away. It's not like you can weigh her, and you don't know a healthy weight to check her against even if you did. You don't have the equipment on hand to check her blood pressure or hormone levels. Would those even apply to a mutant mare? Still, you could look her over for obvious problems or oddities. From the look on her face, the way her eyes soften and a half smile inches onto her muzzle, it's obvious that she was simply waiting for you to ask. Is she genuinely worried about her health, or just fishing for an opportunity to show off? Her horn alights, jade magic slowly rolling up her strained undershirt.

Hook, line and sinker.

Boundless' belly is an icon of fertility - the sight of it all but hypnotises you. While the fur of her face and legs is a deep, verdant forest green, her prodigious abdomen calls to mind a rolling hillside coated in rich grass, the colour watered down by sheer surface area. The wide, smooth yet completely uniform shape shamelessly announces just how full her womb must be, the only irregularities being the subtle cleft running down the midline and the plump, faintly pink navel that sits triumphantly atop the whole thing. There's barely a hint of stretch marks anywhere; do her freaky mutant powers keep those from showing up, or was this body forged by the princesses themselves to carry foals?

You're aware of Boundless' wingtip gently stroking your back. Her gaze follows yours, eyes half-closing in contentment as you both look upon her fecund body. Apparently she's content to just lie there and smile while your brain restarts. Her tummy rises and falls in time with her breathing, almost seeming to gather and reflect the room's meager light. Is that the 'motherly glow' you've heard mares talk about, or is it the radiation? You can't be sure; either way, it's captivating.

"Go ahead, hon. You can touch it - I won't bite."

You reach out and softly lay a forehoof on her burgeoning flank (her side, not her butt). It's smooth and firm as marble; warm as morning sunlight. Boundless bites back a giggle, wiggling her hindlegs, and you mumble an apology for your cold hooves. Remembering that you're here to examine her, you wrack your brain for the deepest, most profound medical knowledge available to you. After a moment of deep deliberation, you pronounce your initial diagnosis. She's very big.

The alicorn rests her hoof on yours, that sneaky wingtip drifting down your spine. Her smile turns playful and she lowers her tone. "That would explain the achey hooves."

Cowed by her sarcasm, you fumble in your saddlebag for a moment to fetch your stethoscope and put the buds in your ears. With your free hoof, you place the metal instrument against her monumental swell, drifting it smoothly and methodically across the surface. There's just a little give to her smooth flesh, but not much. You register a faint heartbeat fairly quickly, but it's too muffled to belong to a foal. Boundless' heart beats strong and steady. You angle the stethoscope upwards, towards the top, and... there it is. You can't hide your grin - there's definitely a second heartbeat in there.

Boundless notices, of course, and looks about ready to explode with excitement. Her hoof tightens around yours and she leans towards you expectantly. "Can you hear it?"

You nod, and ask her to hold still for a minute. You want to be sure of something. After taking a few moments to memorise the position, you start searching again. You have to get up and move around to her other side to be sure, and she watches you the entire time, her face a mix of bemusement and curiosity. The stethoscope slowly glides along her skin, parting the fine fur, until-

Thump.

Boundless squeaks, but your smile only grows as what can only be a tiny hoof bumps irritably against the instrument from beneath her skin. A wave of gentle internal motion ripples across her tummy as the second foal wiggles into a more comfortable position, and a little chasing lets you pinpoint its heartbeat as well. You sit back, spread your hooves, and congratulate her on her twins.

The alicorn's forehooves shoot to her mouth, her eyes like saucers. She's simply speechless, stammering fitfully as tears pool in the corners of her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is a giddy whisper. "C-can I listen...?" You nod, moving around to her head so that she can share one of the earbuds. She curls her forelegs against her chest, and you lean across to find those little noises again. The moment you do, the tears start flowing. Once you track down the second one, Boundless wraps her forelegs around your entire body, hugging you so close it feels like you might be about to die after all. With your chin wedged against the place where her upper body meets her abdomen, you can think of worse ways to go. Her fur smells earthy, with a faint hint of ozone.

It's several minutes before you're allowed to breathe properly. After taking a barrage of profuse thanks, you let her borrow the stethoscope and walk her through the process of finding the heartbeats herself. Judging by her rapt attention, she could keep herself busy for days this way - she's probably already planning to.

"You have no idea how important this is," Boundless murmurs, still giddy with joy. "I suspected, but I never- th-they're so beautiful." Taking the opportunity to check on her wounded leg, you go for the cheesy rejoinder and suggest that they must take after their mother. She purses her lips facetiously. "Me? A monster mare with a stomach the size of a parade float?" You nod and continue - all things considered, she makes it look good. Very good. "Even this?" she asks, motioning vaguely in the direction of her womb. You pat her side, once again taken aback by just how firm and smooth her belly is, and admit that it must be a trial to carry around, but surely it's worth it. Right?

"It can be uncomfortable, but... yes. No regrets. No regrets at all."

An idea strikes you. You might be pushing the boundaries of decency, but Boundless has been accomodating so far. Perhaps you can do something to help with that little problem. You rest both forehooves on the sheer surface of her tummy and press just enough for the warm flesh to squish a little, then start running them in slow, steady circles. You watch her face carefully for signs of discomfort or offense, but the moment she registers what you're doing her expression softens and she sighs deeply, closing her eyes and wiggling her hooves.

Oh yes, tummy rubs are certainly in order.

As the fine fur of her belly parts smoothly beneath your forehooves and you touch her firm, life-bearing skin, it strikes you just how much trust Boundless is placing in you, barely an hour or two after your first meeting. You're not that charismatic. It makes you wonder just how long she's been starved for this sort of attention. Or is being a pushover her own 'eccentricity', like Auriga's stuffiness? You notice her eyeing you expectantly, and happily cast aside the armchair psychology for another time.

Belly rubs, unfortunately, aren't something you've had much experience with. Sure, you've examined pregnant mares a couple of times before, but never interacted with them in such a personal way. Still tracing tame little circles, you ask her if she'd like you to carry on. "Oh yes," she murmurs, "A little harder..."

You carefully lean in closer - Boundless' womb is so loaded that you can't apply much more pressure before start to you feel resistance, but it seems to satisfy her. She starts to relax, muscles loosening all over her body save for one of her hindlegs, raised and twitching restlessly. That giddy, blissed-out grin makes a reappearance. You raise yourself up onto your haunches, moving your attention towards the upper face of her belly. It seems to shine invitingly in the light. The moment your hooves touch down again there's another brief flurry of internal movement. The big, bountiful mare just coos under her breath, losing herself in the moment. You tenderly knead her, one hoof after the other, and try to do the same, vaguely aware that given the size difference between you, this might take a while. For who knows how long, the only sounds in the room are those of gentle breathing and slow, tender movement as you do the best you can to make her feel comfortable. After a while, you switch sides - this mostly ends up getting a reaction out of her other foal, and you both share a giggle at the idea that it might be trying to copy you.

The alicorn, however, is the first to break the quiet spell that fell across the room. She takes your hoof between hers, sitting up a little. "Thank you," she says sincerely, "I could never have asked something like this from my sisters. This is... not the sort of bond we share." You brush it off - least you could do and all those stock chivalry phrases. Boundless just smirks for a few seconds, slowly tilting her head. She knows you're just trying to be modest, and she's having none of it.

"Tell me honestly. Do you find me attractive?"

You stammer, pausing mid-rub. How do you respond to that? Boundless continues, patting your hoof comfortingly. "All I asked for was some help with my leg - I half-expected you to try and run away and fetch an angry mob. You didn't have to do any of this."

You choose your words carefully. She's not hurting anyone, and open minds are pretty rare these days. You're curious, perhaps intrigued by Boundless and her sisters. And - yes, you finally admit, you do find her very attractive. Mutant or not, she's a beacon of life; an island of thriving growth in an ocean of gray. Okay, so you don't put it that pretentiously, but you get the point across. Her cheeks flush, a little sparkle appearing in her eyes. You have her attention; apparently she's fishing for flattery.

"That's sweet, hon. Thank you," she purrs. "If you don't mind, could you get the lower part too?" You nod, taking the hint and circling around to her hindquarters - her back legs rest either side of you, long and slender. In front, her abundant gravidity looms, casting a shadow as if demanding your complete and undivided devotion. She smiles approvingly, fiddling with one of her ponytails. You decide to start near her navel and work your way down (and have to rear up to reach, all but laying on top of her) - it's a safe bet that she'll stop you before your hooves wind up anywhere too sensitive, right?

It quickly becomes apparent that the midline of Boundless' tummy is the most sensitive part. As your hooves gently traverse either side of the gentle cleft that frames her protruding belly button, her breathing gets faster. Her hindlegs twitch, hooves curling in what you can only assume is ecstacy. You stop and look her in the eye, dead serious for a moment, eliciting a little noise of confusion. Then, unable to resist the urge, you gently but firmly press down on her navel.

"Boop."

Boundless gives a little yelp, and the blush infecting her cheeks takes a sudden and extreme leap forward in intensity. She can, you cheekily point out, also be very cute. The mare huffs a little, folding her hooves across her chest, but she can't hide that smile so you return to the task at hand. It's slow going - you have a lot of ground to cover, but it's all too obvious by now that both of you are having fun. The lower reaches of her pregnant swell must bear the brunt of its weight while she's standing up, so it only makes sense that they're the most tender areas too. You don't do anything different, just apply some careful pressure and move your hooves in little patterns, but Boundless' self-control seems to be struggling. You lose sight of her face as you methodically work your way down the face of that beautiful belly, but you can hear the little noises she makes. The shallow breaths, the little gasps, the fitful twitching and fluttering of her wings.

She has, you realise with a twinge of emotion, put herself entirely at your mercy.

You stop, suddenly indecisive, with a gnawing suspicion that you might have crossed a line. You came here to heal this mare - and as stunning as she may be you do have a duty of care. It's not like you took the Hippocampus Oath or anything, but still. More than that - while Auriga's protectiveness might have been full of bluster, she did make a good point. Boundless is vulnerable. She's so desperate for intimate attention that it's hard not to feel like you might be taking advantage.

Tenderly, you smooth out her fur and lift your hooves from the surface of her tummy. She makes a little noise of confusion, and eyes you questioningly as you make your way back around to her side. You explain, as gently as you can, that you don't want to take things too far. Certainly not this quickly. Besides - if her sisters caught you (not unlikely, given Auriga's habit of teleporting everywhere)...

Boundless mulls things over for a few seconds, then slowly nods. "I understand, hon." There's disappointment in her voice, but she gives you a little pat on the head and motions for you to sit. "Maybe I got a little carried away. It's all just so exciting." She sighs wistfully. "I suppose that means you'll be leaving soon."

With a shrug, you remind her that you did say you'd be sticking around for a little while. At least until the bandage is off her leg and she can walk comfortably again. She ruffles your mane with a giggle, cradling the mass of her midriff between her wings. "I won't be walking comfortably for at least a month, hon. Not with these two in the way." She purses her lips. "Does this mean you can stay the night, at least?"

Time alone with a beautiful mare, in a hidden sanctuary full of cloth and blankets? You can easily think of worse ways to spend your time.

The evening passes uneventfully, but pleasantly. Boundless gets up and paces a little to stretch her legs, but it isn't long before she settles back down and the pair of you start to talk. Apparently she gathered all the soft cushions and padding for her room herself. Having discovered a knack for working with fabric several months back, she began collecting every last scrap that she could find, with an eye towards putting together protective clothing for herself and her sisters to use. It eventually transpires that the bulk of her current outfit, needing to be sized up from the standard fare, actually began life as a pair of hotel curtains. As her pregnancy advanced, making a place to rest her growing body was as simple as piling up all the write-offs and least workable materials in a heap. More at ease now, she sounds happily proud of herself.

As the light outside begins to wane, the alicorn invites you to sleep with her. It's not suggestive or crude - rather, resting on her front, she simply lifts her wing and suggests you get comfortable. As you lay down at her side, cushioned by her heap of tailoring supplies, the feathered limb curls over your shoulders and draws you closer. Nestled snugly between the warm feathers on one side, and the warmer, softer body on the other, you're lulled to sleep in a matter of minutes. The last thing you remember before dropping off completely is a motherly heartbeat, strong and steady against your cheek.

You awaken abruptly the next morning, from the best night's sleep you've had in a while. You might have been out cold for a few more hours, if not for Boundless shaking you. Your eyes creep open and you mumble something about wanting your favorite green blanket back.

"Please wake up, hon. I'm so sorry, but I need your help."

You rub your eyes, sitting up and trying to blink the drowsiness away. Boundless looms just in front of you, biting her lip with a grimace of worry. She taps a forehoof restlessly against the floor. "It's Auri. She didn't check back in last night, and she hasn't been in at all this morning. She always checks in every morning! Corona too!" You're not sure you understand, but you get up and dust yourself off. Boundless paces in a small circle, constrained by the limited size of the room. "W-we have to go and look for them! What if they're hurt?"

You bite back a yawn and try to help her calm down. After all the stories you've heard about alicorns being killer mutants that can snuff out a pony with a thought, surely her sisters can take care of themselves? Perhaps they got waylaid. Boundless shakes her head. "They're in the building. I know it - when I try to call out to them I can feel them nearby but I just can't figure out where. It's so frustrating!" She stomps her forehooves and puts a crack in the concrete.

Yeah, she's going to have to explain that one. Boundless sighs, rubbing her forehead with a wingtip. "My sisters and I each have our own spell. A gift from our Goddess. Mine is telepathy - I can reach out and touch the minds of other ponies. I can talk to them and they can talk to me." You nod. Not being a hornhead yourself you wouldn't know from experience, but you've heard that teleportation is supposed to be extremely hard, so that's probably Auriga's special spell. Who knows what Corona can do. But if Boundless can just talk to her sisters with magic, why all the fuss? "The same reason I don't regenerate," she explains. "All our abilities - the healing, the flight, the magic - they're all powered by radiation."

You put two and two together. Boundless' foals need radiation just like she does. Her womb is one great big power sink, sapping the rads from the rest of her body. You say as much. "Yes! Exactly. I can't cast my telepathy spell - I tried, but it's so weak, I only touched them for a moment. Trying to cast it properly, it..." She sniffs, glancing back over her shoulder, "...it hurts."

Okay then. So Boundless' magic is a no-go. You pat her shoulder reassuringly and begin to gather your things. The two of you have some lost alicorns to find.

A Trot in the Dark

As you prepare yourself, You convince Boundless to sit down, at least, so that she can fidget in frustration without tiring herself out. She settles on her haunches and hugs herself, breathlessly talking you through what she knows about the power station.

The three alicorns did a thorough aerial survey of the complex before moving in, and were satisfied that it was abandoned. Most of the upper floors are open to the air, completely ruined. Corona, according to Boundless, is relentlessly curious, so it's most likely that she was exploring down in the basement level of the main building. Right now you're in a smaller annex that used to be the administration wing, a short walk away. The inside of the plant, Boundless explains, is mostly intact, but large sections were gutted for scrap a long time ago, save for the main generators which are far too big and dangerous to move.

And there lies a dilemma. The spark generators are defunct, but once upon a time they turned enough raw magic into electricity to power a city. After centuries of disrepair, that magic leaks wildly into the air as radiation, and lots of it. There are pockets of it everywhere. Take too much of the stuff, and you'll wind up dead or worse. Boundless doesn't have the same problem. In fact, she might be able to siphon off enough rads to cast her magic properly and get a bead on her sisters. On the other hand, she simply can't afford to risk getting hurt again. You have no idea how much damage she might have already done by pushing her telepathy spell too hard. In addition, neither of you have any idea what too much radiation might do to her foals. She's adamant that no amount of radiation could harm an alicorn, but you're still going to have to move slowly and carefully.

In terms of supplies, you've got half a healing potion and some basic first aid gear, two doses of RadAway, a flashlight, and a small firearm with a dozen half-decent rounds. A cheap but reliable model dating back to Old Equestria, it straps to the side of your foreleg and fires when you twitch your fetlock just so. Awkward to use on the move, but at least you're not going to be turning yourself into a concussed, deaf, toothless mess by wielding the thing with your mouth. Boundless makes a quick detour to the break room to fetch a small rucksack with a few of her own things. She also trades out her coat for one with thicker, longer fabric and what looks like salvaged armor plating across the breast. Despite her condition she flatly refuses to stay behind - not while her sisters might be in danger.

The pair of you emerge from the admin building into an overcast and dreary morning, made more so by the fact that the plant itself is probably the ugliest building you've ever seen, looming over the entire compound as a fat, squat mass of stone. If not for the broken windows ringing the tattered and roofless upper levels, you'd think that whoever built it simply poured concrete into a rectangular mould the size of a city block and called it a day. Taking the lead, you find that the double doors at the main entrance have already been forced open, and so the pair of you proceed into a small, utilitarian foyer. Boundless looks around, bobbing her head as if sniffing the air, while you set to hunting down any sort of map or indicator of where the basement access might be.

The reception desk has been thoroughly looted already, along with the adjacent office and storeroom. There's coloured lines on the walls, which you assume were meant to help ponies find their way around, but the paint is so worn as to be almost invisible. Forget reading any labels they might once have had. The lines disappear around a sharp corner not far past the desk, presumably into the main corridor.

"There's radiation here, but it's very weak," Boundless informs you, "The walls insulate against it." You smile up at her - who needs a radmeter when they've got an alicorn? She smiles back, but it's subdued by her concern. "Tell me if you feel sick, hon."

With nowhere to go except straight ahead, you proceed into the corridor. An unnerving smell hits your nostrils, sickly and hot, but as you turn the corner you see nothing out of the ordinary. There's a staircase, but it only goes up. The corridor itself extends a good distance straight ahead, branching into offices, closets and maintenance accessways on either side and ultimately leading up to a large, heavy set of double doors. High, thin windows give you enough light to keep moving, and the pair of you proceed in nervous silence. There's no noise that you can discern from anywhere in the building - every hoofstep sounds amplified. Your imagination, ever unhelpful, offers up the image of a raider clan or an overzealous team of looters descending upon you from the shadowed rooms. But every step also puts up a little cloud of dust - nopony has settled here in a very long time.

The double doors are unhelpfully labelled. EMPLOYEES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. You push through, and find yourself in a high-ceilinged open area much larger than you were expecting. Overhead, mechanical arms and cranes hang from gantries long broken down beyond use or repair. Shutter doors wide enough to admit wagons dominate the far wall. Indeed, the husks of old cargo vehicles fill most of the space at ground level. The doorway is slightly raised on this side, and as you make your way down a short metal staircase into the wagon graveyard. Boundless wrinkles her nose and sniffs.

"I know that smell."

You turn to ask what she means, but Boundless doesn't explain straight away, instead concentrating on maneuvering herself down the stairs after you. They were never designed for a mare of her stature, let alone weight. Her long legs just barely keep the ponderous lower curve of her belly raised high enough to avoid grazing the guardrail, and the whole structure groans ominously the entire time, up until she finally lifts her hooves off it completely.

The mare clears her throat, perhaps hoping to salvage a little dignity. "Doing anything with raw magic on a large enough scale leaves waste behind. All the magic that can't be used for whatever reason, mixed up with the chemicals used in separating it from the rest."

So, you quip, it's toxic, radioactive goo? Wasn't Auriga drinking the stuff earlier?

Boundless shakes her head. "No, hon. We can handle the radiation, but that doesn't mean we can go around drinking industrial runoff." The pair of you begin to work your way through the loading area, following the walls to try and find another exit. At ground level it's a maze of ancient, useless vehicle hulks, so progress is slow and every so often you have to stop and double back. Boundless doesn't handle very well in confined spaces. "You're not far off, though," she adds, squirming her way through a gap between a wagon and its trailer that can only just admit the width of her middle, "it would be just as poisonous to most ponies."

You offer her a helping hoof which she thankfully accepts, working herself free with a little gasp of exertion. She looks past you and smiles happily. "Ooh, here we are." It looks like you've found the source of the smell, and it's pretty rank. One of the wagons has a little walled platform on the back, and there are several barrels on it. Some of them look to have been cracked somehow, spilling their disgusting sludgy contents all over the floor of the wagon. Boundless, to your surprise, rears up and breaks open the tailgate. "Radiation, hon! Maybe I can boost my magic." She dips her hoof into the goo and starts splashing it all over her face and horn.

You take a step back and give her some room. Pretty mares rushing to bathe themselves in wet, sticky slime are perfectly fine in your book, but it's not exactly ideal when that slime could poison you. Apparently satisfied, Boundless braces her forehooves against the back of the trailer, flicking some of the excess off her ears. Her brow furrows in concentration and her horn alights. For a few seconds she stands perfectly still, humming through gritted teeth. Suddenly she tenses up with a sharp hiss of exertion, and her horn abruptly goes dark. You hurry to her side to keep her from toppling over - or try to - but she keeps herself upright on shaking hooves.

Boundless lets herself down from the trailer, breathing heavily and settling onto her haunches. Beads of sweat freckle her body, but she meets your alarm with a tiny smile. "Didn't push myself too far this time, hon. Y-you can relax. It doesn't hurt." Even so, you point out, she looks like she's just run a mile at a full gallop. She nods, letting her wings hang limply at her sides. "I know, I know, it was a stupid risk. B-but I contacted Corona! I know where she is!" You nod, giving her time to take things slowly. "She's downstairs, just like I thought - there's a Ministry of Arcane Science lab in the basement and she's locked in. The way down's not far from here."

From what you've heard in the past, the Ministries used to run Equestria. More accurately, they ran it into the ground. They also took security very seriously. Perhaps Corona touched something she shouldn't have and the place locked itself down (but why would they put a lab in the basement of a power station?). Boundless starts to wipe her face. "Yes, exactly. But..."

What about Auriga?

Boundless lowers her head despondently, ears flattening against her skull. "I couldn't reach her. She never answered."

You take a few minutes to let Boundless rest. She's unusually quiet, no doubt filled with worry for her sisters. Once she's ready, you let her take the lead. After a while you both reach a door leading back into the bulk of the plant. Boundless should probably be relieved to be out of the tight space, but instead she starts rationalising out loud. "Perhaps she was simply busy. Or sleeping." You suggest that perhaps she's simply low on rads, but Boundless shakes her head. "Auri keeps herself topped up as much as possible. You've seen how protective she is - she should take it easy, I know, but she always wants to be ready for a fight."

At last, following Corona's directions, you reach your destination. A tight, discreet corridor leads to a small, armored hatch. Beyond that, a sheer flight of stairs disappears into darkness. There's simply no way that Boundless could get down there safely - even her sisters would have to lower their heads to take the stairs. You point out, a little awkwardly, that in her present state Boundless' girth is simply too wide. A short flight of stairs in an open area was enough of a challenge. Boundless bristles at that, but can't deny it, and instead turns to renewed concern. "Are you going down there?"

You nod. You've come this far, right? Inside you're kicking yourself - you're a wandering wannabe healer, not a professional soldier or a grizzled merc bristling with firepower. Who knows what you'll find? But Boundless needs her sisters, and you're going to help them if you can. Her foreleg suddenly curls around you, drawing you against her body. The other comes to rest against your cheek, stroking it gently. "Please, hon. Just... just be careful. Don't put yourself in danger." You return the hug as best you can by putting your hooves around her bulging midsection (what? You're just a little pony, it's the only part you can reach) and tell her that she - or rather, the three of them - should just sit tight. You'll be back as soon as you scope out the place.

She leans down, smiling sadly, and kisses you on the forehead. Her breath smells earthy - unusual, but not unpleasant. "Good luck, hon. We're rooting for you."

Welp, now you have to go down there. Steeling yourself and taking a deep breath, you give her tum a cheeky little nudge and start down the staircase into the basement. You flick your flashlight on, revealing nothing but dust, cobwebs and even more stairs. A quick look over your shoulder reveals that Boundless is poking her head over the rim of the hatch, watching you.

As you move, you again pick up the distinct, nostril-wrinkling stench of magical waste. You pause to take one of your RadAways - it tastes like raw ass, as usual, but better safe than sorry. Eventually, the staircase terminates in a thin, clinically white corridor. There's a stuffy little reception area and what looks like a security checkpoint, both decayed beyond any use. A little further, past the checkpoint, the corridor splits into a T-junction. The right corridor quickly turns out to be a dead end, blocked by a section of the ceiling that's completely collapsed into it, but on the left - another smell, one you recognise well enough, is very strong there. It reeks of blood. Turning another corner, your dinky flashlight settles on something big - something vividly purple, slumped against the wall at the base of a long, black-red smear. Drawing closer you make out more details - crumpled feathers, a long horn splintered off an inch or two below the tip, and the sound of breathing, ragged and wet.

Auriga.

The stricken mare opens one eye, flinching at your light. She struggles weakly to get her hooves under her, but it's obvious that she's not going anywhere like this. Instead she just settles with glaring at you - the blood crusted around her nostrils and bottom lip aren't good signs, but they do contribute to making her look monumentally pissed off. Carefully, you make your way over.

Auriga coughs raggedly. Her right wing is draped across the corridor, limp and obviously in bad shape. It looks to have taken the brunt of whatever happened to her. Her chest bears a smattering of small bullet wounds. Between her wet, painful-sounding breathing and the placement of her injuries, you hastily conclude that at least one of the bullets must have punctured a lung. She could have been here for hours - the regeneration ability that Boundless mentioned before is probably the only reason she's still breathing at all. Apparently it has limits, though. There's not a whole lot you can do for her except offer up what's left of your healing potion. She looks utterly disgusted at the prospect of having it fed to her, but it's not like you're about to just leave her to bleed to death.

As soon as she's swallowed it she tries to push you away from her, clenching her teeth in agony. "You," she hisses, "where is Boundless?"

You do your best to explain, patiently, that Boundless is waiting upstairs, worried sick for both her and Corona. You need to know what happened and how best to help the pair of them. Auriga is obstinate, of course, huffing with disdain at the very idea of being 'helped'. You note, with no small amount of irony, that at least the potion has steadied her breathing enough that she can afford to be stroppy.

"Find me a source of radiation and get out of my way," she says as bluntly as she can in between labored breaths, "I will recover." You shake your head. Big brave super duper mutant pony or not, she's not fit to go anywhere with a mangled wing and a good two inches missing from the end of her horn. She shoots you that glare again - no doubt unpleasant things would be happening to you if her horn was intact, but right now you have the upper hand. Eventually, after once again trying and failing to support her weight with her forelegs, she relents with a frustrated groan.

"There is a secure room up ahead. Some kind of lab, with automatic security running on its own power source. In the main room, on the ceiling, there is a turret." You nod. "Infernal, lucky, stupid machine," she spits, "clipped my horn on the first burst. These corridors are too thin to move quickly - without magic to shield myself, the second burst hit my flank. Corona is locked in a second room - an office - on the far side. I saw her, but..." She breaks off into a fit of coughing, so you tell her to save her strength. You get the picture: it's hard to carry out a rescue mission when you're riddled with bullets. You ease open her shirt and bandage Auriga's chest as best you can while she talks, but it's a botch job. She's not a receptive patient, and the bandages were meant for ponies quite a bit smaller than a full size alicorn. Eventually you settle back, content that you've done what little you can to stabilise her for now.

"I will live," she mutters, testing her good wing, "but you are wasting time. Help our sister and be careful - you will be of no help to any of us if you die." You shrug and choose to take that as encouragement. Casually, you inform her that Boundless is expecting twins. Auriga blinks in shock, and actually manages to pull herself halfway to a sitting position. You're not sure if she's supernaturally tough or just blockheadedly stubborn - either way, you're not about to try and force her back down. A few seconds of awkward staring later, she lets out a long groan. "Get moving. Idiot."

You press on down the corridor with a little smirk, thinking through how to approach the lab. You'll have to come back with some rads for Auriga on your way back, but at least you left her motivated. The corridor branches dramatically - on either side there are more passages, alcoves, and maintenance accessways, all disappearing into blackness. You even pass what looks like a small canteen, caked in dust and grime. It would be easy to get lost for hours down here in the dark, but at least there's a bright side to the situation, if a cynical one. Auriga left quite the blood trail for you to follow. Eventually, perhaps ten minutes later, you round a corner and the trail abruptly comes to an end. A faint light issues through a ragged, broken doorframe. The door itself, a thick automatic lump of metal, looks to have been wrenched entirely out of its frame. Auriga's work, maybe? As quickly as you dare, you take a peek into the room.

The lab is sparsely lit. The equipment on display across the various tables and benches would be impressively complex if it wasn't all covered in rust and grime. Tanks and tubes, box-shaped machines and cylinders of who-knows-what, all marked with the trademark six-pointed purple star of the Ministry of Arcane Science. In the corner there's a small heap of barrels - more magical waste. At the far side, a second security door and a long window that takes up most of the wall. And on the ceiling, swivelling jerkily towards you and spitting sparks from its mounting, one very irate-looking security turret.

Your hooves work faster than your brain - you scurry forward into the shelter of one of the big, blocky workbenches near to the door, pressing your stomach to the ground to get as low as possible. The turret opens up with a deafening rattle of gunfire, sending a hail of bullets thudding into doorway and the thick desktop. Beakers and instruments shatter, forcing you to cover your head as splinters and bits of glass rain down on you. You take a second to breathe - nothing hurts, so it looks like you're okay for now, but you feel a twinge of sympathy for Auriga. She stood up to two of those? The turret can't see you through the workbench, but you've gone and gotten yourself pinned down.

A tinny, obnoxious voice blares from a speaker somewhere overhead. "Biom-m-m-metrics mismatch. Zebr-brabrabrabrabr-FILTHY STRIPE infiltration detected. Scanning for targets." Apparently it talks. Great. You're not a zebra, obviously, but the security system's either too broken down or too indiscriminate to care.

The turret grinds loudly in its mounting, probably tracking around to scan the room for you. You take a few seconds to consider your options which, honestly, don't look all that good. Your dinky little pistol probably won't do much against what you can only assume is military grade armor, and apart from a few meager scraps of bandage you used all your medical supplies on Auriga, so you can't afford to get hit at all. Going head to head isn't an option. Corona's supposed to be locked into the other room on the far side of the lab, so perhaps you could try to get over to her - but surely if she could get out of there she'd have done it already. The security door's probably locked down tight and you can't exactly risk shooting out the window - it's probably bulletproof anyway. Rushing straight in here definitely wasn't the wisest move.

"Probability of intrururururu-derrrr survival: twenty per-INVALID VALUE point nine nine nine nine percent, repeating-ing."

Ho boy. That's getting annoying fast. Apparently if it can't gun you down it's just going to shout at you spastically until you give up. You rack your brains - you're no tech wiz, but you're not stupid either. The turret can't be running all by itself - there has to be a power source somewhere. So, plan A: find whatever's keeping the thing running and hit it until it stops.

"Please prereresent yourself for peaceful iden-den-tifi-VENTILATION. I am asking nicely, colon bracket."

Or at least until it shuts up. That would be a good start. You crawl to the end of the workbench and risk another peek at the turret. Luckily for you, it's facing the other way. Sure enough, there are thick cables running out of its mounting and across the ceiling into a shadowed alcove near the back room. Taking advantage of your brief window of safety, you haul ass to try and reach it before the gun can get a bead on you again. It's faster than it looks - bullets kick up plumes of ancient dust around your hooves as you scoot around the corner, and you swear out loud as one of them clips your tail.

It takes you a second to pull yourself together and take stock, but it looks like your recklessness paid off. The cables feed down from the ceiling into a large metal box marked with a warning sign - a small mare with crossed out eyes surrounded by a cluster of purple sparkles. The locks are rusted through, and prying off the cover reveals an array of spark-batteries. Backing up as far as you dare without getting back into the turret's line of sight, you raise your foreleg and shoot the power box. Amidst a shower of sparks and bits of metal, two things happen. First, the light goes out.

Second, to your immediate frustration, the security system starts shouting again. "Primary defdefdefense compromised. Shutdown immineneneneSOON. Possible breach of sta-ta-ta-tate secrets. Sanitizing lab area. Have a ni-i-i-i-ice day, zebra scum!"

You have no idea what that means, but don't get time to think before something new catches your eye. The door to the back room begins to glow a fierce electric blue, then starts grinding open. Given barely enough time to open your mouth and yelp in shock, that same glow wraps itself around you as well, hauling you bodily off the ground, then through the door and straight into something large and soft with enough force to knock it over. The door slams shut behind you with a crash.

Then, a moment later, the lab erupts in a fiery explosion. You jam your hooves against your ears as everything around you shakes and roars - you're vaguely aware of someone clinging onto you, but for several seconds the entire world is nothing but awful noise. Crumbling concrete, breaking glass and screaming metal, kept away from you by nothing but a dividing wall and some very, very strong glass. Eventually, flinching, you open your eyes. Once again, the only light you have is your little flashlight. You're lying on something - something fuzzy, blue and... moving. You blink and sit up, raising your light to reveal a large, inquisitive pair of eyes, peering down at you through a pair of rimmed glasses several sizes too small. The big mare grins awkwardy, blushing at you. Probably because you're sitting on top of her stomach right now.

The mare stammers, raising her hoof in what looks like a bizarre halfway house between a wave and a salute. "Um... hello, little pony. My name's Corona."

You roll off Corona and try to collect yourself. It's only just starting to sink in that you were only a second or two away from... yeah. Not thinking about that right now. You rear up on your haunches and take a look through the window - the years of dirt have been joined by massive scorch and scratch marks, making it pretty much impossible to see through. Even the door has a couple of ominous-looking inward dents. The lab must be well and truly levelled. Corona sits up as well, dusting herself off. You can't make out a whole lot of her with only your little flashlight to see by, but you've picked up on the basic pattern from her sisters. She's tall - Princess Celestia tall - and where Auriga was nothing but purple and Boundless was nothing but green, Corona is a pleasant blue. Her mane is long and rough - you get the impression she's never even tried to wash or tidy it. She's dressed in a long, predominantly white coat, like something you'd expect to see a doctor wearing - one of Boundless' creations, maybe.

Corona turns to you and blinks in the light. "Oh, I'm s-so sorry. Are you okay?! The lock used electromagnets so I got the door open as soon as the power dropped but I wanted to warn you about the sterilization protocol and there wasn't any time-" She carries on in a steam of apologetic babble, and you take a slow breath. It's all a little bit overwhelming right now. Apparently her brain runs a few gears higher than her mouth, but at least she's more tolerable to listen to than that security system. Once you get a chance, you try to answer the question she started with - you're who knows how far deep underground, you got shot at a couple dozen times, and then you almost got turned into a small red smear. You're jittering with nerves and maybe trapped beneath a couple dozen tons of concrete if that blast brought the ceiling down, but apart from that, you're not doing too badly. How is she?

Corona rubs her forehooves together. "Fine! I'm fine. I mean, relatively speaking since I've been trapped in here for an entire day. Are you Boundless' friend? Is she okay? She said someone was with her. Is Auriga okay? She opened the outer door but then the turret drove her off. I hope she's okay. Ooh, hold on." She lights her horn, the glow intensifying until you can see the little room clearly. It's an office, cramped but well-furnished, with a comfortable-looking chair, a computer terminal, and a row of filing cabinets that looks to have been thoroughly rummaged through. Corona's 'labcoat' has plenty of pockets, all stuffed with rolls of paper and even the occasional folder, so it's not difficult to draw a connection there. Presumably this place belonged to whoever was in charge of the lab. You reassure Corona that her sisters were fine last time you saw them (a bit of a lie, sure, but the pair of you need to focus right now).

Immediate problems first. You need a way out. "I know! I tried to hack into the terminal but it locked me out and closed all the doors and-" You quickly touch a hoof to Corona's mouth before she can start rambling again. Speaking of doors, you ask, can she open this one back up? Corona sets her hooves, scrunching her muzzle in concentration as her magic once again takes hold of the door. It grinds open with painful slowness, obviously badly damaged, but it looks like her magic is up to the task. A wash of rancid smoke drifts in through the gap, forcing you to cover your mouth, but eventually there's enough room for the two of you to squeeze through.

The lab is a burnt-out husk, parts of the furniture still blazing brightly. If there was anything worth salvaging in here, it's gone now. Your fear about the roof coming down seems to have been half-right - there's room to move around, but the floor is littered with hefty concrete chunks and the ceiling has a whole lot of very ominous-looking holes and cracks, some of them still leaking dust. The barrels of toxic waste have disgorged their contents all over their side of the room - knowing your luck, the stuff's being carried in the smoke. You hurry back through as quickly as you can, Corona bringing up the rear. Now that the hard part's over all you need to do is follow the blood trail back and you're home free. About time - that smoke's making you feel woozy.

As you round the second corner down the corridor, reality decides to give you a firm reminder that it couldn't possibly be that easy. The trail suddenly terminates in a solid wall of crumbled concrete - the ceiling must have been weaker here, collapsing thanks to the shockwave of the lab going up. Immediately you start digging at it with your hooves - no way are you going to let yourself get trapped down here. All of a sudden you feel panic setting in - if there's no way out you'll starve to death, or choke to death on the smoke, or waste away in the radiation. You've seen what radiation sickness does to ponies; that's not something you'd inflict on yourself for all the caps in Equestria. You yell at Corona to help you dig, but she just stands there with her head canted like you're some kind of idiot.

"Um, why don't we just take the lift? Ooh, and whose blood is this? Is it yours? Did you get hurt? Is that why you're so scared?"

Wait, what? There's a lift?!

"Well, um, I found it earlier and it's broken down, but that's no problem. I've got wings, see?"

You stare blanky at her. She does indeed have wings. How fortunate.

Corona takes the lead, sheparding you back into the twisting corridors with her horn lighting the way. Sure enough, in what feels like the deepest bowels of the structure, there's an elevator. The car itself is long past functioning, but there's a hatch in the roof. Corona's magic makes short work of it, and she lifts you up into the shaft before clambering up through the hatch as well. It's a struggle for her, big as she is - it's lucky that the alicorns all have slim and elegant builds; if Corona was proportioned like a regular pony or covered in giant muscles like a lot of mutants, she'd never fit. Getting Boundless through would be out of the question.

Corona kneels down on the roof of the elevator, raising her wings. "Here, I'll carry you up." You nod and straddle her back - it's awkward in the low light, but you manage to get settled and take hold of her coat. She stands back up and takes a few experimental flaps. "I'm sorry if it's not very comfortable, there's not much room and I'm a bit tired and I've never had a stallion ride me before so actually never mind I'm sure we're both fine so here we go."

Your momentary mount takes off faster than you can say 'freudian slip', flying straight upward. You let yourself breathe a sigh of relief, resting your head on the mare's neck. Now that you're both on your way back to the surface, maybe that actually wasn't so bad. You're both in one piece, Corona already looted the lab so maybe this was all worth something, and now you can circle around to find the others and get Auriga on her hooves again. You even feel warm - maybe the lift connects straight to the outdoors. Sunlight would be welcome right now. Your ears twitch - wait, how can it be sunny if you hear lightning? The door at the top of the shaft is already open, and Corona quickly comes in to land. She immediately fluffs up her feathers and takes a few steps on the spot. "Ooh! This is nice."

You look up. You're not outside, but actually in a massive room of the power plant. Judging by the windows high up on the walls, you're at least at ground level. In the center of the room, ringed by catwalks and safety rails, is a ruined machine the size of a small house; a great mass of pipes and chambers and gears and crystals, caked with rust and looking about ready to collapse at any second. It hums ominously, every so often sending out jolts of colorful sparks. It's surrounded by barrels like the ones you saw before - dozens upon dozens of them. The atmosphere is rank, oppressive, pressing down on you maliciously as if the air itself is a moment away from seeping into you and unwinding you from the inside.

You scream at the top of your lungs for Corona to run. Of course - of course the elevator leads straight to the main reactor room! Why did you even think it would take you somewhere safe? To her credit, Corona doesn't argue. She has to know that you're not fed by radiation like she is. Her long strides let her set a decent pace while you simply cling on for dear life with three legs, fumbling for your last RadAway with the fourth. It's enough to just about keep you conscious, but not much more than that. You feel dizzy, your vision blurring at the edges. Your stomach feels like it's slowly filling with hot cement.

A minute later, clear of the radiation hotspot, Corona rounds a corner, and you see Boundless sit up in surprise at the entrance to the basement hatch. You crack a little smile at the scene - Auriga is halfway out of the hatch, flat on her stomach. The stubborn mare must have crawled all the way up all those stairs. Corona lets you down but you can't keep your balance. You stagger a little, then teeter on two hooves; Boundless is quick enough to catch you before you can fall flat on your face.

"Oh my stars, hon! Not you, too. What happened?"

You give Boundless a little smile, falling limp against her body. You try to murmur something witty and manage a few slurred words with a bit of dribbling. Smooth. Still, you weren't dreaming earlier; Boundless is very warm and soft. Super comfortable. The perfect place to just... pass out. Yeah, now's a good time to do that.

It's early evening when you wake up, nauseous, with what has to be the worst stomach ache you've ever had in your life. There's a rhythmic clicking sound coming from somewhere. You can't get the taste of vomit out of your mouth, and your skin itches all over like that one time a few months back when you stayed out too long and got sunburn. All in all, you feel terrible. You raise your head a little and look around - it looks like you've been moved to the break room you ate dinner in last night, propped up on some of the seat cushions. Auriga is laid out similarly a short distance away, fast asleep.

Much to your relief, the clicking sound isn't a radmeter. Boundless is seated at the table, and it looks like she's moved her sewing machine out of her room. She's not wearing her coat, probably so that it doesn't get caught in the machine. Part of you just wants to go back to sleep; the rest decides that it's time to start coughing painfully. The green mare looks up from her work and gives you a big grin. She rises to her hooves and makes her way to your side. Without the coat to mask her shape, and in contrast to her slimmer sisters, it's really striking just how blatantly her belly, well, bellies outwards to her sides. She settles down alongside you, gently nudging your cheek with her muzzle. "Welcome back, hon. How do you feel?" You make a weak little shrugging motion. Just the way it feels to be turned inside out by radiation poisoning; no big deal.

Boundless smiles sadly. "Corona's gone to try and find some more RadAway for you. We didn't really have any reason to hold onto it until now." She glances over at Auriga, the purple mare's sleep apparently unbothered by your conversation. "We did have some sedatives, though. Auri's regenerating, but she needs her rest." Now that she mentions it, Auriga does look a little better. Her wing's still a mess, but the bandages are gone from her chest and her horn has a point again, if only a blunt one.

Eager for anything to take your mind off the way your guts feel like they're doing cartwheels, you lie back and ask Boundless about that - it's one heck of a convenience, being able to sleep off life-threatening injuries in just an afternoon. She nods, taking a little while to make herself comfortable, and ends up resting on her side, head resting next to yours. "You're not getting any worse, so I suppose we can chat for a while if you're feeling up to it." She pauses, collecting her thoughts, and stretches her forelegs. "All of our powers are a gift from our mother, the Goddess. Without her we would never have been drawn together as sisters. Many of us - the ponies we were - would have perished alone and afraid. We owe so much to her."

You press a little further. There's got to be quite a history there, right? Boundless makes a pleasant sound, but her patient smile turns a little mischievous. "So long as my little hero is comfortable with being told a bedtime story." Apparently sitting on death's doorstep after stumbling around in the dark for a couple of hours makes you a hero. Neat. You're not exactly in a position to be prideful right now, so why not? Can she tuck you in and get you a glass of warm milk too? Boundless giggles at that. "Not this time, hon. That would mean getting back up." She'll have to gloss over the sad bits - littler ponies than you are probably listening in. The big mare blushes faintly at that and shushes you.

"A long time ago," she begins, "Equestria was a very different place. Ponies of all kinds were ruled by two alicorn princesses. The most powerful and beautiful ponies of all, posessing all the strengths of earth ponies, unicorns and pegasi." You nod. So far, so ancient history. "Celestia and Luna. Some believe that they still protect Equestria, even though they don't walk amongst the other ponies any more," Boundless continues, closing her eyes. "But Equestria was a land at war, with enemies that wanted to slay the princesses, believing them to be monsters. The Great War lasted for years, and the ponies became more and more desperate. One unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, found an answer. Putting all Equestria's knowledge of arcane science together, she found a way to grant the powers of an alicorn to anypony. An alicorn army could end the war, overwhelming Equestria's enemies with precisely the powers they feared."

So Boundless and her sisters are part of some... magical supersoldier program? She shakes her head, shifting her weight softly as her foals move and ruin her comfortable position. "Not quite, hon. The day testing was to begin on its first volunteer was the day the bombs fell; the day Equestria came to an end. Twilight never had the chance to build her army. But as the land was bathed in fire, a miracle took place. The first volunteer didn't just survive - she was reborn. In the very crucible of Twilight Sparkle's masterwork, the mare that once called herself Trixie became something far more than an alicorn. And to save their lives, she invited Twilight and her staff to join her in a new form. Immune to the ravages of age, of radiation. Connected in a telepathic Unity. Together, they ascended to become the Goddess." She pauses to take a breath, which turns into a low yawn midway through. "We, her daughters, were remade in her image over the years. The Goddess welcomed anyone to join her Unity. Not 'true' alicorns as such, but reflections of the Goddess, sharing in her powers and the powers of those that became her."

You get the feeling that Boundless might be sugar-coating things, but keep your thoughts to yourself. There's an element of happy reminiscence in her voice; no point in risking offending or arguing with her right now. You do have a question about that last part, though - she hasn't mentioned a single stallion in the entire story. Does the whole alicorn mutation deal only work on mares?

Boundless pats your shoulder, smiling gently. "More accurately, the process only produces mares. For all her might, the Goddess was created by accident. There were... problems." She glances back at her swollen belly, caressing it softly as she takes a fonder tone. "An entire race of ponies, unable to breed naturally. But - well, I suppose rules are made to be broken, aren't they?"

The sun is setting outside, slowly casting the break room into ever darker shades. Boundless carries on, her voice softening. "Most mutants are sterile, of course. It's a testament to the Goddess' grasp of science that she could even produce mares at all. Her final years were dedicated to making us complete; finding a way that permitted her children to breed like any other race, so that we could secure a future for the Unity without needing to transform others. Together, we searched for an answer; we experimented. Decades of effort, dozens of lives, were poured into gathering every scrap of arcane science that could be found in the ruins of Equestria."

You sense a 'but' coming. Didn't she mention before that the Unity had been broken? The Goddess can't have taken that well.

Boundless hesitates, picking her words carefully. "...The Goddess, um, made mistakes in her choice of allies. Almost a year ago, before the skies were opened, she enlisted the help of others to seek magic and knowledge in places that the Unity couldn't reach. They turned on her with overwhelming force. With her death, our Unity was shattered and we became individuals once again. She never knew that our efforts had at last produced a success."

Two successes, you start to remind her, only to be cut off by another bout of coughing. Boundless sniffs and gives you a little hug. "Yes, hon. Yes." She draws you closer, snuggling you against her chest. You're not sure if getting hugged by a giant mutant is going to do your radsickness any good, but hey, just one can't hurt. "That's why we're here, in seclusion. There are still many that would hunt us as monsters. Many of our sisters, in fear and submission, even allied with the ones that killed our Goddess. We can't afford to take risks."

Like hiring you? She gives you a little shake and rolls her eyes. "Maybe Auri's right, and I'm just too trusting sometimes. But after what you've done for us already, I don't think so. Not this time." She lets you down gently and winks, ruffling your mane. "Rest now, hon. Save your strength. Let's see how you feel in the morning."

Doorways and Dalliance

When you wake up, you don't exactly feel better. But you're not worse off, either. You've still got your hair and you're not a ghoul, so that's a win, and you got a blanket at some point during the night. Boundless helps you take a drink of water every so often, but most of the morning is spent wallowing in intestinal misery, punctuated by the occasional bout of vomiting. Auriga eventually wakes up as well, and insists on sitting up and testing her wing despite Boundless' insistence that she rest until she's fully healed.

"Sister, please. As broody as you may be, I am not a foal. There is no need to be fussy; you know I have survived worse than this."

Boundless rests her hooves on Auriga's shoulders. "I know. I also know that unless you're planning to go sit on the reactor and risk overloading yourself, injuries like that are going to take days to heal completely. Just rest for today at least, for goodness' sake."

Auriga shakes her head. "I cannot sit idle, Sister. Someone must stand guard. Besides, you should be the last person to lecture others on overloading themselves."

Boundless chuckles, releasing the purple mare and sitting back. "Was that humor? You're delirious, Auri." She sighs softly. "I suppose I can't stop you; just stay safe, please? Come straight back if anything happens."

Auriga rises to her hooves and nods, moving stiffly but with all her former poise and purpose. Her wing won't do her much good, but her horn lights for a moment as she tests her magic. It's weak, but working. She turns to you, looking down her nose imperiously. "Your help is appreciated, little pony. It seems that my sister's trust in you may have been warranted. Hopefully your recovery will not strain our resources too much." You mumble something that you hope passes for a polite response. From Auriga, you suspect that's the closest thing to a heartfelt thanks that you're likely to get. As she makes to leave, your position sprawled on the floor really throws into focus just how tall these alicorns are. Their horns fall an inch or two short of scraping the ceiling. Even injured, you imagine that Auriga could put up one hell of a fight if she were pushed to it. Barring the purple mare running into any more turret ambushes, at least you're relatively safe for now.

Corona comes back a few hours later, with a bag of assorted goods slung over her back. Much to your relief, it contains a couple more packets of RadAway; almost as good, she somehow managed to scrounge up some actual vegetables. Big improvement from the two hundred year old canned crap that's probably as likely to give you dysentery as nourish you. You write it off as something to look forward to; you won't be eating much solid food for a while, at least until your system's done flushing the rads out so that you can start to get better. That is, if Boundless doesn't devour it all first. Can't exactly blame her for wanting to eat everything in sight, radioactive or not.

Corona spends some time with you as well, still just as hyperactive as before. Apparently she kept herself from going stir-crazy in that lab office by reading the papers she'd looted over and over again. When you ask if she thinks it was all worth it, she grins and spreads her forelegs wide. "Yep! That lab was a subsidiary of the Ministry of Arcane Technology. They were studying ways to make magical waste useful - some of their work even went all the way to Maripony, where Twilight Sparkle herself worked! Basically they were feeding the waste through a series of arcanothermal conductors under extreme pressure and then introducing-" She carries on for a good ten minutes, with you nodding and 'mhmm'ing whenever she manages to stop and take a breath. Apparently she committed a good amount of the notes to memory.

"Ooh! I forgot to say thanks for the help back there! That was really tense what with the turret and the locked doors and the radiation and everything. Auri says thanks too, she's just bad at it and-"

Boundless shushes her. "Corona, please. He needs rest."

The blue mare huffs grumpily, folding her hooves. "Will he be leaving when he's better? We're paying him too, right?"

Boundless gives you a sideways glance. "Of course. As for staying... well, that's up to him, isn't it?"

Did she just wink at you? Corona goes on, oblivious, but you can tell that Boundless is hinting at something. She's been sitting awfully close all afternoon; you figured that she was just being all protective, but come to think of it, even now you can practically smell her.

Yeah, you could probably be persuaded to stick around for a while...

The next few days pass pretty quickly. The RadAway works fast and stops your stomach from feeling like it's about to overflow through your nostrils, but it's not like your body can shake off a nasty case of radiation sickness in an afternoon. Once you stop throwing up, Boundless moves you to her room and sets up a little heap of cushions so that you can be a bit more comfortable. Auriga gives you a respectable amount of space, and while she occasionally needs someone to stop her from babbling the day away, Corona turns out to be surprisingly interesting to talk to. In fact, it even turns out that the blue mare is actually the eldest of the sisters; she recalls memories of working for the Ministry of Arcane Science back before the bombs dropped, which would put her at well over two hundred (not that you would point that out). Meanwhile, the others are barely a decade older than you.

Auriga isn't exactly the most open-hearted mare, so you don't see much of her save for when she checks in on Boundless. Corona is off exploring or studying whenever she's not expositing at length about this or that. It turns out that her special spell is invisibility - you're not sure if that's a good or bad power for someone to have when they're constantly curious. Boundless herself rarely leaves your side; you get the impression that she's still feeding that longing for company. Or perhaps she's just warming up her motherly side for when the foals arrive. On that note, they can't be more than a few days away. She seems increasingly restless; by the time you're up and moving again she insists on walking with you whenever you go anywhere. Harmless exercise, she says, but it's hard not to notice the faint glisten of sweat along her neck, even at rest. At least her leg's completely healed so that she can take the bandage off.

With things returning to something resembling normal, you realise that the three of them have a pretty comfortable little home here. Auriga keeps watch over the building, watching for possible threats or intruders from the upper levels and checking in with the others at regular intervals. Corona divides her attention as her attention span allows, sometimes helping Auriga, sometimes chattering to anyone that will listen, and sometimes squirelling herself away to work on some science project or another. Boundless, aside from keeping an eye on you, works on her sewing when she's not resting or eating. She's more practical than artsy, but seems to have a knack for making useful clothing out of pretty much anything, from dresses to armor. Tucked away in a dry, cool corner of her room is a neatly folded pile of works in progress - large pieces for her sisters to use, regular-sized attire to sell. Something tells you that she's been working on some smaller outfits too.

Once the radiation sickness is finally fading, with only a vague sense of nausea and the occasional cough left, Boundless is eager to see you back on your hooves. She wakes you early one morning, and after a quick breakfast of the vegetables Corona scrounged up, she insists that the pair of you take a walk around the admin building to stretch your legs. She's been nothing but cheerful and energetic, frequently talkative and always on her hooves lately, but this is new.

"Don't worry hon, it's perfectly safe," she says, throwing on her coat and buttoning it up with careful, minimum-effort telekinesis. "We've been all around the building many times." You shrug - sure, why not? She should probably be resting, but if she wants to go for a walk you're not exactly in a position to stop her. You fight back a grin at the sight of her struggling to close the bottom buttons around her barrel (which well describes the size and shape); her belly's on the verge of outgrowing her clothes. It's particularly noticeable once you get underway: the building's old and everything not made of concrete is creaky and unstable, but you get the impression that at least some of the distressed noises you hear are coming from her outfit.

The building is quiet and mostly uninteresting. Old offices, storerooms and corridors arranged in a semi-logical pattern, mostly filled with junk and old furniture that's long rotted past the point of usefulness. It smells like dry dust. You follow Boundless - apparently the main corridor simply loops around the ground floor, and she's walked this route a few times already. The pair of you talk about this and that as you go, and once again you find your eyes wandering - not just to the alicorn and the way she somehow manages to walk with a modicum of grace when she should probably be waddling, but also into the various rooms you pass. Maybe Corona's enthusiasm for poking her nose into things rubbed off on you a little, or maybe you're just paranoid about creepy wartime security systems. Probably a bit of both. Actually - you pause for a second at a glimpse of something shiny. Boundless stops and gives you a look of concern.

"Is everything alright?"

You nod and reassure her that you just want to check something out, taking a quick detour into what looks like a stuffy little copyroom. The floor is saturated with tatty old paper that crinkles pathetically underhoof, crumbling to dust as you tread on it. At the far end, between a useless photocopier and a rusty cabinet, is a computer terminal that hums quietly and lets out a faint green light. Off to one side, a Ponytron robot lies crumpled in a heap, its head completely stoved in and its legs bent at odd angles. Creepy, but at least it's not going to jump you or anything.

The console looks to be in decent shape, but when you make your way over and tap a few keys it turns out to be just as broken as most wartime tech, the screen filling with a nonsensical jumble of letters and symbols. You can select bits of the garbled mess with the arrow keys, but the terminal just makes angry noises at you when you press anything else. Patience depleted, you shrug; it was worth a look.

"What is it, hon? Did you find someth- oh. Oh dear." You turn to find Boundless entering the copyroom behind you. Or more accurately, trying to.

This little room wasn't made with big ponies in mind, and the entrance is narrower than the corridor. The problem becomes obvious straight away - Boundless has her tummy wedged in the door. She wiggles and squirms and makes little kicking and pushing motions with her hooves, making flustered little grunts and huffs, but it's obvious that she's stuck fast. A few seconds of struggling only manages to kick up a little flurry of old paper, quicken her breathing and build up a furious blush all across her face. Eventually she stops and just stares at you indignantly. A noble alicorn, a daughter of the grand and mighty Goddess, defeated by a doorframe. And now that she's blocking the door, you're both stuck.

Whoops.

Boundless huffs softly, tapping a hoof in frustration. "Ahem. Could you give me a push?" You do just that, leaning your weight against her chest and shoving as best you can, but it's not enough. You can't really get proper leverage without the risk of hurting her, but either way she's just too big and heavy for you to shift. Eventually you're forced to give up and offer an awkward apology. Boundless' frustration starts to give way to worry, her bottom lip trembling. Surely her sisters will come and check on her pretty soon, but she has to feel pretty vulnerable like that. You offer a bit of reassurance, lame as it might sound, and scratch your head.

It's a long shot, but you check out the tatty old cabinet at the back of the room. The shelves inside have mostly collapsed, creating a sloppy mess of useless paper and spilt ink at the bottom. But at the top, you see something that puts a smile on your face. The old toolkit won't do you much good, but there's also a half-full tin of machine oil. For maintaining the Ponytron, most likely. When you return to Boundless and show her what you've found, her ears perk up and she tilts her head. "Hon, I don't see how that's supposed to-" She pauses, then balks a little as she figures out what you're thinking.

You shrug and explain; there's no way either of you are going to force her free, and unless she wants her sisters to stumble across her jammed in a doorway (and probably have Auriga free her by smashing down half the wall), she's going to need to wiggle free somehow. As luck would have it, you've got just the thing to help. And hey - it looks like you've got a knack for getting alicorns out of tight spots.

Boundless' expression softens a little and she rolls her eyes, but eventually she nods and scrunches up her muzzle in consternation. "Fine. Fine. Just be quick, please." Working the lid off the tin of surprisingly strong-smelling oil, you can sympathise - there's no way this won't get embarassing.

You close the oil can and tuck it away in your bag. Yeah, this stuff stinks. But you can deal with that - there's bigger problems ahead. Number one: you need to apply the oil to the places where Boundless' belly is widest, ideally both inside and outside of the doorframe, but even with her head bowed down to your eye level she's still twice your height at the shoulder, and one of her sides is too close to the wall for you to even try and squeeze alongside. Number two: as it stands, you won't be able to oil her up without ruining her outfit, or at least her coat. Number three: somehow you need to avoid collapsing her brain into a singularity of awkwardness. And number four: you're still not completely recovered from the radsickness, so your coordination isn't at its best (which means that number three is probably impossible).

Nonetheless, you come up with a plan and explain it. Basically, you're going to have to climb on her back from the front and lay down between her wings. Then you'll oil her down, possibly ruining her coat if it's not washable. Then she'll wiggle her way free. Backwards. There is absolutely no way that this could go wrong.

Boundless, for some reason, looks deeply skeptical, and bumps you irritably with her head. "Please, hon. I know we're not quite on the same scale, but I'm not a climbing frame." But with that out of the way, she doesn't have an alternative to offer. Unless you do something she's going to be stuck there until her sisters find her butt sticking out into the corridor. Eventually she relents with a long sigh and extends her wing, giving you room to climb up. You're not too heavy, fortunately, but it's a bit of a scramble to make your way up onto her shoulders and sit down in the small of her back. You have to rear up just to get your forehooves onto her shoulder, and once you're up you wobble unsteadily, stuck between trying not to be too rough with her and fighting nausea. At the last second she uses her wing to nudge you back into position until you grip the base of her neck between your hindlegs. You glance back at her but she's not looking at you, instead just staring straight forward in a huff. If that wrecked Ponytron could feel emotion it would probably be melting under an overload of indignity right now.

There's a couple of feet of open doorway between her back and the top of the door, so you've got a little bit of room to move, but not too much. You can't sit up straight or anything like that. Unwilling to put the alicorn through any more humiliation than nescessary, you decide to get to work. You set out the tin of oil on her back and open it up again, warning her to hold still. This is all for nothing if it gets spilled. "I'm not going anywhere, hon," she says impatiently, "you're the one wiggling - your tail keeps swatting my face!"

You take that as constructive criticism. Oh well - time to get this done. You dip your hoof into the tin of oil - it's thick and sticky, probably more than it should be thanks to centuries in storage, but you work with the tools you have. Leaning over to one side, you have to reach down to where Boundless' midsection bellies out to meet the doorframe. The second your hoof touches down she goes "Eeep!" and quivers from head to tail, almost sending you tumbling facefirst off the side. Now who's wiggling? Boundless snorts and straightens up again. "It's cold and slimy! I, ah... I wasn't ready for it, that's all." You respond by putting your hoof back down and giving her a good firm rub, smearing the oil all over the smooth, rounded surface of her tummy where it meets the doorway. Some of it soaks into her coat. Boundless makes a wordless noise of protest, her wings twitching and tail swishing; she's obviously fuming right now, but there's nothing left to do but get on with it. It can't be all that bad - she's willing to put up with it, at least.

To make matters worse, it looks like the foals are awake. Your job's made harder by the fact that every so often the surface of her skin will subtly move as they kick or squirm around. Eventually, by the time you've applied a thin coat of oil to the sides of her belly, she's grumbling under her breath. You sit up, insomuch as that's possible, and ask her to try moving. She braces her legs, wiggles her body, and... goes nowhere. You guess you were a bit halfhearted with the oil - looks like you'll need to use more. Boundless lets out a long-suffering groan and bows her head. "Just stop talking about it and get me out of this doorway."

This time, instead of dipping your hoof into the tin and spreading it around manually you take the whole thing and simply tilt it, dropping a great big glob of oil onto the upward curve of her belly just above the doorway. It slides down under the effect of gravity, speeding up as the slope becomes more sheer, and parts around the frame. It's messy, but if this doesn't work nothing will. You repeat the process on the other side, using up the last of the oil, and pat her down a little to make sure as much of it's in the right place as possible. Your hooves practically glide across the surface - her belly practically glistens wherever the oil is thin enough to be translucent, and you can hear the excess dripping onto the ground. This time though, Boundless doesn't wait for you to tell her to move; she wriggles restlessly, digging her hooves into the ground, and this time she actually moves! Finally free, she backs up a few steps - and you hit your head on the top of the doorframe.

Everything goes a bit fuzzy for a few seconds. You're vaguely aware of Boundless setting you down and sitting at your side. "I'm so sorry, hon! Are you alright?" You shake your head to try and unscramble your brain - it hurts, but it doesn't feel like anything serious. You try to sit up and end up about halfway, wobbling a bit before slumping over against Boundless' warm, comforting (and now very oily) belly. Yeah, you're fine. Completely fine. You both share a few seconds of awkward silence, and then she starts laughing.

There's a sudden snapping sound and a rush of displaced air, cutting her off. You blink a few times and find Auriga looming over the pair of you, her horn still glowing as it winds down from her teleport spell. The taciturn mare does not seem amused by the sight in front of her.

"Auri! Hi! Don't worry, we're fine," Boundless stammers, "we're just resting. He's still a little sick, aren't you, hon?" You nod groggily, vaguely aware of a small glob of oil dribbling off Boundless and down your foreleg.

Auriga doesn't budge an inch. "I heard strange sounds, Sister. And you're filthy. What were you doing?"

"We were exploring! There's some fascinating things in that room, even a computer. You should tell Corona about it; she loves computers."

The purple mare is having none of it. "Sister, if you'd rather not discuss your dealings, then do not. There is no need to protect yourself by lying. I care about your safety, not your..." She eyes the oil smeared across Boundless' flank as if it were toilet water, "hobbies." She offers a hoof dispassionately. "Please get up off the ground. You should rest somewhere safer and more private."

The pair of you stand up and awkwardly fall in line behind her as she leads you back towards the break room. The moment Auriga turns a corner, Boundless tilts her head and looks at you over her shoulder, her expression so serious and strict that even Auriga might be cowed if she could see it. Her horn flickers dimly, and suddenly you can hear her voice echoing in the back of your mind.

"We will never speak of this again."

You nod hastily, sufficiently intimidated by the spooky magical mutant mind-speak. Yeah, keeping that particular misadventure a secret would probably be for the best.

Fortunately, Boundless cheers up again after a little time to cool down. You both write off the little blunder with the doorway as actually pretty funny and put it behind you. The question of exercise is also set aside in favor of more sedate, comfortable activities.

Despite her eventual admittance that the oil stains add character, Boundless stops wearing her coat during the day. This only makes it more and more obvious that her undershirt and trousers are struggling to contain her. Clearly, her pregnancy is in its last days. Eventually she simply gives up trying to hide her navel, leaving a slice of her ripening abdomen visible at all times. You'd think she'd be uncomfortable or awkward, but more and more the strongest emotion she shows is gleeful pride. If she wasn't glowing before, she certainly is now.

It's a quiet evening when she makes a move you weren't expecting, the pair of you relaxing in the fleeting light of her desk lamp. Corona lent you both some of her pre-apocalypse books; you're muzzle-deep in 'Honesty, Equestrian Style' when Boundless sets aside her copy of 'Changeling Liaisons' (judging by the cover it's either a spy thriller, a trashy romance, or both) and rises to her hooves with a soft grunt. You look up; she's biting her lip, staring into space. At your questioning, she turns to face you, speaking slowly as she mulls over her choice of words.

"...hon, do you remember the conversation we had when you arrived? After you bandaged my leg?" You sit up on your haunches and nod. You remember most of it - you might have been a little distracted at the time. Boundless starts tracing little circles on the concrete with the tip of her forehoof. "You said I was, um, attractive. Do you still think so?" Again, you nod. It's unusual for her to be acting all insecure all of a sudden. She advances towards you, the hefty swell of her sides rocking slowly with the motion of her body. Again, it becomes apparent just how intimidatingly tall she is compared to you, with the added kicker of having an abdomen so wide; so visibly heavy. It would be easy to feel cowed by the sight, if you weren't familiar with how gentle she could be.

Boundless blushes a little, toying with her ponytails. "I'm... I'm not used to thinking about myself, hon. In Unity, I was one with my sisters. Afterwards, I focused everything on the safety of my foal. And then... and then you came along and showed me that I was caring not only for one foal, but two." You give her a little smile at that. Just doing your job, right? She's done a good job too: as far as you can tell, they're both safe and healthy. The alicorn shakes her head. "But that's just it. Ever since I've been thinking more and more about myself. What I might do if something happened to my sisters, whether or not the things I make meet other people's standards. How I look, how I feel."

And how does she feel, you ask. Boundless takes a fond look over her shoulder, cradling her belly with a wing. "I feel glorious, hon. I want everyone to appreciate what I've done. What I am. I'm... I'm so full of pride and it just feels so strange. Like I want to be recognised. I want to run away from here and show off to everyone but that's such a stupid idea, and..." You raise a hoof, making her pause mid-sentence. Yeah, that's probably not the best plan. But surely her sisters are proud of her. You certainly are. She's doing a good thing, a beautiful thing, and it shows. You think that she's a lovely, charming mare. She leans down, putting her head level with yours, her big jade eyes glistening with happiness and desperate hope. Her voice is halting, nervous, but heavy with emotion. "Can you prove it? Can you show me?"

The cynical part of your brain tells you that you're taking a risk, but you ignore it. You lean forward and kiss Boundless softly on the muzzle. The response is immediate; her lips part and engulf yours, filling your lungs with the hot, earthy scent of her mouth. She kisses in a rush, over and over, unrelenting and breathless; her forehoof meets your chest, and she pushes you down until you're flat on your back. There's nothing you could do to stop her now, even if you wanted to.

But why would you want to?

"You understand, don't you, hon?" she whispers, looming over you like Celestia incarnate, dominating your field of vision with the light shining from above her. Her gravid belly rests a perilously short distance above your lower body, the plump mound that is her navel actually grazing your stomach whenever she breathes in. "I don't want to be a sister right now. I don't want to be a mutant, or a monster, or a damsel in distress or a tailor or... I wouldn't trust anyone else with this. I just want to be a mother." Her voice drips with need. "I just want to feel packed with life, loved and cherished and desired for it."

You offer up a little smirk. She's got the first part covered. The second? Well...

You press the flats of your forehooves against the face of Boundless' tremendous tummy. Once again you find yourself marvelling at just how warm and firm it feels, even through her strained undershirt. It doesn't take you long to roll that up and out of the way, revealing a softly-furred expanse that heaves magnificently every time she takes a breath or shifts her weight. A prominent vein catches your eye, defiantly breaking the perfectly curved silhouette - that little feature wasn't there when you examined her a few days ago. The longer you look, the more you get the impression of utter, fecund fullness - visibly tight. Tense. Surely the foals can't be more than a day or two away, assuming she doesn't drop them right here and now. So you share that thought, and it only lights a fresh fire in her eyes.

You feel the wind forced from your lungs as Boundless relaxes, resting her gravid mass on your lower body. You can breathe, just about, but it's suddenly a lot harder. You wiggle your back legs, but the weight is overwhelming; you're not going anywhere unless she wants you to. Her forehoof drifts gently across your cheek, just as a smile drifts across her lips. She's in control now, and she knows it. "You feel it, don't you, hon? I won't be like this for much longer." She leans in and nips the tip of your ear. "Hurry up."

You start with the only option available to you, laying your hooves on her prodigious midsection once again. Only a fraction of it is within your reach, so you make sure to give it your full attention. The time is past for gentle slowness and the fear of overstepping the bounds of decency; instead you massage her firmly, following the curves and contours of her teeming womb with broad, reverent strokes. You can't imagine how it must feel for her to carry something so heavy, so cumbersome, but at the same time so promising and, yes, so beautiful. Boundless sighs in bliss, extending her wings to enshroud the both of you in your own little world, and you respond by raising your head and kissing her right on the sternum. Then again, lower, where the center line of her belly meets her upper body.

That gets a reaction. Boundless makes a high-pitched little noise, a tremor travelling down her spine and propagating through her entire body. So you kiss her again, and again, shifting your target point just a little each time. Your last one is a little more adventurous; instead of simply pulling away, you take hold of a little belly skin between your lips and suckle on it playfully. Boundless gasps out loud, the entire bulk of her body shifting forward. You hear the flustered swishing of her tail, and pick up more scents than mere sweat. The big mare purrs under her breath, her mouth hovering by your ear. "Should have expected an earth pony to be good with their tongue, shouldn't I?"

You jokingly remind her that you're not the only one that has to make do without magic for now. Boundless just grins at that; the sort of grin that invariably accompanies a plan to do something very, very naughty. She doesn't give you time to speculate - instead she braces her legs and grinds the massive swell of her belly against your entire lower body. Back, then forward, then back again with a slow but oh-so-deliberate rolling motion that must take every muscle in her hips. You're pressed to the ground by her gravidity, all but crushed by it, and even the fleeting thought that you might be losing sensation in your back legs doesn't hide the fact that the whole experience is getting you off almost as much as her. "Without magic we have to rely on our more mundane qualities, don't we hon?" You breathlessly squeak that there's nothing mundane about the situation and she relents. A little. Now she's gentler, and you don't feel like you're at risk of being pulverized, it becomes more tender. More thoughtful. She's so proud of what she's bringing into the world, and wants you to share in just a fraction of how her body must feel every day.

Soon she's panting softly, her rounded flanks glistening faintly with beads of sweat, and you ask if she'd like to make herself more comfortable. "Only if you stay close, hon," she whispers, more than a little suggestion in her tone. "I want you all to myself tonight." She slowly rolls off you and onto her side, curling her forelegs against her chest with a hopeful expression that borders on downright cute. You have no intention of disappointing her, and in this position you have access to a lot of things you didn't before. The wide, rising convex of her side, the firm underbelly with its shallow, sensitive central groove and bulging navel, and the tender lower reaches; you attend to them all with hooves and mouth alike. Rubbing, tickling, kissing, even licking and suckling. There's just so much of her, filled to the brim with life and motion, and you dedicate yourself to making her feel like the pampered goddess of fertility that, to your mind, she might just be. To that end, your hooves and mouth become tools of worship. Tender, respectful, but also impassioned.

Eventually though, with blatant urging from Boundless and your aching loins alike, things begin to take a sharp turn for the carnal. You find your attention drifting lower and lower, towards the shadowed cleft where her inner thighs meet the very base of her belly's girth. She shifts her legs restlessly, shaking off the last of her clothing and revealing a place where forest green fur gives way to midnight black flesh. Her teats are well and truly engorged; plump and faintly damp, more than ready to be put to their natural use. Your muzzle slides into that shadowed cleft, eliciting a genuine moan from the alicorn as you prod and nuzzle your way around. Driven by instinct and lewd intent alike, you run your tongue around the base of a thimble-thick nipple. Her scent is so much stronger here, and it's not just the earthy, comforting smell that you're used to around her. Now it's laced with what can only be described as raw animal need.

Your thoughts begin to haze over, and as you bury your face between Boundless' mounds you rub your side against her upturned belly. In response, there's a flurry of internal movement that sets the surface shifting and her hooves curling. The twins are awake, and it feels like they're annoyed that you might get milk priveleges over them. Tough luck - making mommy feel good is the priority right now. And besides, she's got plenty to spare. You wrap your lips around the bloated nub of her teat, teasing the tip with your tongue. The taste is sweet, almost cloying, but Boundless voices her approval without words, so you commit fully and latch on, following up with a firm rhythm of squeezing and pulling. Boundless' body quivers all around your head as you begin to suckle, and rewards your efforts without delay.

You swallow deeply and lick your lips, but pause as you feel a wingtip nudging insistently against your hindquarters. You raise your head, confused, to see Boundless craning her long neck to look at you over her belly as she lets her wings hang limp. She's sweating profusely, panting, fixing you with half-lidded eyes. "P-please, hon," she stutters, "Move on. No more playing." She shivers gently, all the way down to the base of her spine where her tail twitches and flags. The message is clear enough, so you nod, rising to your hooves and making your way around her hindlegs with almost mechanical purpose.

Without her tail or clothes in the way, you're suddenly confronted with your first clear view of Boundless' backside. In contrast to the slender frames of her sisters, her hips are fleshy and broad, resting together in a plump heart shape. Who knows how much of the mass on display is natural for her, and how much was packed on as a result of her pregnancy? You draw close, nuzzling her, marvelling not only at the soft cushioning that coats her butt but also the strong muscles that must exist underneath, to have carried so much weight with such grace. Then, with as much tenderness as your hormone-addled brain can manage, you lay your hooves on her and slowly spread her cheeks.

The hot stench of feminine musk hits you like a brick, and even Boundless reacts to the air touching her most sensitive places with weak little kicks of her hooves and an instinctive widening of her legs, biting her lip to hold back what sounds suspiciously like a squeal. Her nethers are more than proportionate to her large frame, visibly aching and swollen, slick and wet and trembling. She's almost ready to foal, but there's more to it than that. Just how long has it been since she last had the means or opportunity to get some relief? With a deep breath that's as intoxicating as it is invigorating you take the plunge, stroking her outer lips with the very edge of your hoof. The response is immediate, just as if you'd shocked her, and this time she really does squeal, loud and low and drawn out through clenched teeth, a tone of delight. Her puffy lips part on their own. revealing luscious pink-red flesh, and you lean in close as if mesmerised. You cast aside questions of how you might mount her - your own needs can wait - this poor mare needs a thorough service right this second.

And so, with no more delay, you put your mouth to work. There's plenty to keep it busy. Licking and kissing come first, exploring the delicate flesh to discover her most sensitive places; to spread and savor the fluids of her lust, dizzying in their potency. Next is gentle nibbling, playful little flicks of the tongue; taking whatever loose skin you find between your lips to teasingly suck and pull. Weighed down by her foals and drained of strength by the sensations rocketing through her body, Boundless can only squirm and moan helplessly, overcome with ecstacy. You wonder if her sisters know what's happening - surely Auriga isn't far away.

Never mind that now. Your hooves sink into the meat of her thick blank buttocks, keeping her spread and pressing deeply into the meat of those thick, fertile hips. At last you decide to plumb the depths. You can practically see the heat rising from her core, and as you bump the tip of your muzzle against her opening it's like pressing your face into a paradoxically soft, wet furnace. One that twitches and contracts powerfully all around as you seek out her button. You find it soon enough - it's bigger than you've ever seen on a mare - and immediately give it the exact same treatment you gave her teat. Gentle licks, soft nuzzling, and then a firm, thirsty suck that you drag out for as long as her shaking and your body's impatience will allow.

Her climax is loud. Loud and messy. You'll stink of her for days, whether or not you find a shower in the meantime.

Once the immediate storm has passed and her body's begun to calm down, you set to faithfully cleaning her up, and then and make your way to her side once again to let her back down gently with some more belly rubs. Boundless watches breathlessly, barely lifting her head as you gently lay your hooves on her tummy. You ask her how she's feeling, and she manages a low noise that sounds vagely like 'good'. You decide to take things slowly for a while to let her pull herself together; you've got all night, after all. A minute or so later she raises her wing again, stroking your back fondly as you gently massage her in turn. You ask again, relaxing a little and hugging that gorgeous green swell.

"Thank you, hon," she murmurs with a giddy smile, "that helped. So much..."

The pair of you settle in for a gentle session of cuddling, with the expectation that libidos will flare up again soon enough, but the twins seem to have other ideas. As time passes they get active - very active, to the point where it's starting to cause Boundless some genuine discomfort. Again her neck and sides become beaded with sweat, her belly shifting as the foals kick up a storm. Every few minutes she cuts herself off mid-sentence with a little wince, or suddenly shifts. No amount of affection from either of you seems to be able to calm them down. And they're not the only thing on the move - Boundless finds herself quivering, stiffening up involuntarily and then relaxing again in a slow but increasingly steady rhythm.

"Th-they're changing position, hon. I think-" Boundless cuts herself off with a sharp hiss and she grabs your hoof. There's tears in her eyes; of pain, but also desperate hope. "Get my sisters. The foals are coming."

It's a long, sleepless night.

You don't have to look far to find Auriga and Corona, both standing guard only a few rooms away. They know their sister well, after all - well enough to respect her privacy, but keenly aware of just how close she is to foaling. Corona falls into a fit of giggles at the sight of you and Auriga raises an accusatory eyebrow, but as you explain the situation questions are hurriedly set aside for later. You're a hair's breadth from being trampled as they both rush for the door.

The three of you stay at Boundless' side as she labors. It isn't quick, in fact it's a matter of hours, weighed down by nervousness and worry - Auriga knows next to nothing about the process and rages impotently at her own ignorance, and Corona's knowledge is strictly theoretical. Her heart's obviously in the right place, but she seems just as interested in studying Boundless as helping her, scribbling away in a notebook at every opportunity. You're the only one even close to qualified in medicine, and you simply have no experience with assisting in labor, let alone the labor of a very large mutant mare delivering twins.

Nature, though, takes its course whether you understand it or not. Whatever process made Boundless into what she is couldn't take away the fundamental instincts tied to creating new life. While the three of you comfort her and keep her hydrated, her body does most of the hard work on its own. She shivers and sweats, sometimes groaning or crying out in pain, but the process is steady and consistent. In the end, all she needs are comforting words and steadying hooves. And towels - quite a few of those. You're quietly thankful that she decided to bed down in a heap of old fabric - a lot of these textiles won't be much use to anyone any more. Hopefully you didn't use up any of the valuable ones.

Eventually, in the light of two horns and the very first hint of morning sun from out in the corridor, a tired but supremely satisfied (not to mention relieved) Boundless cradles two newborn fillies to her side. One lavender and one navy blue, they're all gangly legs and long necks. Probably almost as tall as you, if they could stand yet. Little featherless wings and tiny cone-shaped nubs that mark the beginnings of horns. Auriga returns to her vigil outside; perhaps it's a trick of the light, but for a moment you think you catch a glimpse of her actually smiling. Is that a tear in her eye? Surely not. Corona fusses over the foals until Boundless wearily reminds her to calm down, and you, well, honestly you're just plain worn out by the whole ordeal. Eventually you simply bunk down in the corner, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Sleep if you need to, hon. You've done enough," Boundless murmurs. She doesn't look straight at you; right now she only has eyes for the little ones, and there's a long pause while she indulges in a long, cavernous yawn. "I'm so glad you stayed. And... well, thank you. For everything." You give her a little smile as you settle down to rest. Hey - what are friends for?

Time passes relatively uneventfully for a few weeks, and this time you're looking after Boundless rather than the other way around. You shrug it off as 'just being a good friend' and 'professionalism' and all that, but you can't really deny that you've become fond of her.

It takes time for her to recover, and it turns out that you can continue to make yourself useful. While the alicorns have plenty of caps and relatively valuable trade goods, they have trouble getting the things they need, like medicine or portable radiation sources. Until now, Corona's acted as half scavenger, half trader for the trio. Her invisibility spell naturally helps to avoid danger or suspicious stares, but visiting a town is always a crapshoot. You can just imagine some poor scrap merchant being accosted by a giant blue mare that suddenly appears from nowhere cranking out a sentence every second and trying to buy broken spark batteries. Instead, as a normal pony you can travel and interact a little more freely. Well, a 'normal' pony. You might have mutated just a teeny tiny bit from all the radiation exposure, but it's hard to tell for certain. You try to look on the bright side either way - maybe an extra chromasome boosts charisma or something.

So in essence, they employ you. You spend a lot of your time travelling back and forth between the power station's admin wing and nearby settlements, fetching things that the alicorns need day to day. Food, mostly, but Corona wants more esoteric things as well. Now that they know for sure that alicorns can breed with the correct application of magic, she's eager to try and find a way to replicate the exact process that the Goddess might have used. The details fly over your head but it's something to do with tissue samples, intense conjuring, and a lot of private time. On one trip, you even stumble across a merchant peddling a few pre-war toys. They're tacky and colourful, and the grizzled-looking unicorn behind the counter raises an eyebrow when you, a grown stallion, declare straight up that you want to buy all of them. You insist they're for a friend's foals, but it doesn't look like he believes you.

Speaking of the foals, it turns out that Boundless has had names in mind for quite a while. You return from the latest trip to find Flourish and Gemini (the blue one and the purple one respectively) toddling around unsteadily on their gangly legs while their mother juggles her attention between them and her sewing machine. She sits up and smiles at the sight of you, and her eyes light up when she sees what you've brought. The fillies look on curiously while she gives you a great big hug. Boundless might not be lugging a swollen, foal-filled belly around any more, but she's still appreciably plumper and curvier than her sisters. Her clothes have gone from overstrained to merely snug; all the plush softness around her hips and middle make her pleasant to look at and very, very good at hugging. You're okay with this.

And when the foals are asleep, judging by the way she gives you a surreptitious ear nibble and whispers that she's still in the mood for belly rubs, it seems that she is too.