Fallout Equestria: Boundless

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.