One of Those Mornings

Morning sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, illuminating a purple unicorn who clearly had not had a very restful night. Twilight Sparkle’s eyes were clamped shut, her face twisted into a scowl. She wriggled in place, but couldn’t move—already too thoroughly tangled in her comforter and bedsheets.

At last she opened her eyes and said, “Ugh... what a dream… Curses, schmurses.” Her eyes widened as she took stock of her entanglement; her nose wrinkled at the scent of her own sweat soaking the sheets, and a hint of some other bodily fluids. “Uuuurgh…” After a few more seconds trying to wiggle free, Twilight simply teleported herself free from her cocoon, and teleported all her bedding into the laundry room.

Twilight wore a wry smile as she trotted over to her bureau—until she saw what a night of tossing and turning had done to her mane. “Whoa!” she said, then chuckled. “Maybe Zecora cursed my hair.” A few sweeps with the hairbrush tamed her unruly mane, revealing…

“Or she cursed my horn!”

Twilight’s horn was covered in blue spots—and as she watched, its upper half lost all structural integrity and hung limply. Her magic sputtered and died, dropping the hairbrush. “Oh, no! This is bad, this is bad…” She tried to use her telekinesis; she tried to cast a light spell, literally the first spell she had ever learned, but her treacherous horn did nothing except flop a bit when she moved her head.

“Think, Twilight! What could have caused this?”

The events of yesterday rushed through Twilight’s mind: the arrival of Zecora, her friends’ fear of the zebra, Zecora’s strange warning to them—and her friends’ insistence that the shaman had put a curse on them. It had all seemed so irrational at the time. But after her dream last night—the details were fading now, but Zecora had appeared in it, and was every bit the “evil enchantress”—Twilight was more willing to consider the possibility.

Prophetic dreams, though rare, were not unheard-of. The prediction of Nightmare Moon’s return had, in fact, come from a dream of Archmage Nightingale’s. And it was a dream that inspired Princess Celestia to give young Twilight a dragon egg to hatch at her entrance exam to the School for Gifted Unicorns. Twilight herself had never received a prophetic dream before, but perhaps this was her first.

Perhaps Twilight’s dream was a message: that her horn affliction really was caused by a hex, cast by a wicked zebra enchantress.

But not a curse, of course. Curses didn’t exist. That would just be silly.

Twilight rushed to the front door. “Spike!” she called, pausing on the threshold. “I’m going out for a little bit! If anypony needs me, tell them I went into the Everfree to talk with Zecora!”

—————

“Okay, in retrospect, this was not the best idea.”

Twilight had come into the Everfree Forest alone, trusting she could use her magic to navigate and, if necessary, defend herself. Somehow while formulating this plan, she’d completely forgotten that she couldn’t cast magic, thanks to the hex—the one that was her entire reason for coming into the forest in the first place.

Though it was morning outside, the Everfree’s thick canopy blocked so much sunlight, it may as well have been night already. In the darkness, it was all too easy to stumble off the path accidentally—and now Twilight found it significantly harder to locate the path again. A blanket of damp leaves and moss squelched underhoof as Twilight made her way between bushes and trees. The trunks were dark and twisted, so uniformly misshapen that she couldn’t distinguish between them—giving her no clues to tell if she was walking in circles or not.

As Twilight edged around the umpteenth gnarled tree, her eyes darted back and forth to find the path, or at least some landmark by which to navigate. “Hmm… what’s that?” She had finally found her landmark, and trotted towards it: ahead, a copse was obscured by vines. They were a species Twilight had never seen before. They had glossy, black skin all over, except for the patches of dark green at the center of their leaves—or were they flowers? Whatever they were, their angles and long points resembled a spider’s legs, or the jaws of a Venus fly-trap.

A Venus fly-trap as large as a pony’s head.

Twilight gulped and decided she didn’t really need to get any closer to those black vines. She turned and began trotting away from the copse—until something pulled on her left hind-leg. One of those black vines had somehow wrapped around her hoof. Twilight tried to kick it off, but that just made the loop tighten. So she held the vine down with her right hind-leg as she pulled with her left—and then another vine whipped out and wrapped around her right hoof.

With a frightened whinny, Twilight tried to bolt, until the vines on her hind legs pulled taut, and she fell on her stomach. A slithering sound filled her ears, and she tried to crawl away, her forelegs scrabbling against the ground. The black vines drew nearer from both sides, and all the while Twilight’s hooves pulled up leaves and clumps of dirt with their frantic motion. She tried to conjure up an energy blast to defend herself, but her horn just flopped against her forehead, useless.

Two more black vines wrapped around Twilight’s forehooves. “No! No, no no!” She flailed her legs as hard as she could, until those vines pulled taut as well—leaving her spread-eagle on the forest floor. “Hrrrrng! Nrrrrrrg!” She strained against the bonds with all her strength, but the vines held firm and even worked their way further up her legs, inching towards her shoulders and haunches. More vines soon joined them, slithering gently over her back, belly, and neck. When one of those spidery flowers appeared and brushed tenderly against her cheek, almost nuzzling her, she involuntarily shivered and flicked her tail.

Then, a distinct sound made Twilight’s ear perk up. A rustling of leaves and a rhythmic thudding signalled a quartet of hooves passing by—a pony, or perhaps a zebra. A voice carried with the hoofsteps, deep but feminine. Twilight didn’t recognize the words that voice was singing, but she certainly recognized the voice itself.

“Zecora!” Twilight cried. “Help! I’m—”

Then a vine twisted around the base of her tail. “Hey!” Twilight flicked her tail again and bucked her hips as far as the bonds would permit. This succeeded in getting the offending vine off her dock—but the flower next to her face responded by snapping shut over her muzzle and holding her head to the ground. Twilight blinked, then stared wide-eyed at the offending plant. “Hrrrrrrrm!” she tried to protest, but the bloom held her mouth tightly shut, its spines poking her without breaking skin.

“Hrrrrrrrrrm!” she tried to call for Zecora. But those hoofsteps just continued walking, and that voice faded into the distance. Then a loud hiss drowned out Twilight’s further cries: pressurized gas spurted from the flower’s dark green center and flowed around her face. It smelled of cilantro and tickled her nostrils, but she had no trouble breathing it.

So distracted was Twilight that she barely noticed as the vine from behind wrapped around her dock once again. But she definitely noticed when that vine yanked straight up. As Twilight’s thin rump raised off the ground against her will, her attempted protests were drowned out again by another spurt of gas from the flower over her muzzle. Two more vines snaked between her haunches and helped lift her backside—gently rubbing back and forth on her groin with every inch. Twilight blushed at their touch, and at the position she found herself in: her chin and chest on the forest floor, her rump in the air, with her hind legs spread and her tail held high, completely exposed.

Moisture tickled the inside of her haunches, as the first drops of arousal trickled from her marehood. Twilight whimpered at her body’s betrayal. The blush on her cheeks, still obscured by the flower’s grasp, burned even brighter as other vines continued groping her: squeezing her torso, pressing down on her withers, even pulling at her mane on the base of her neck. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine this was some muscular stallion holding her down, not an overgrown plant.

But the fantasy was completely dispelled when another flower approached from behind and clamped over her rump. Its petals groped Twilight, squeezing her skinny backside with its spines, while its center lined up directly beneath her tail and formed an airtight seal. Twilight gave an inquisitive moan, which the flower over her face answered with another puff of gas. Her eyes widened, and she tried to shout, just before the flower behind sprayed its own pressurized gas—directly into her backside.

The effect was immediate: Twilight’s rump and haunches expanded in every direction. One inch, two inches, four inches—thicker and wider her posterior grew. Rounder and curvier as well: with every passing second, her rump cheeks more closely resembled a pair of balls, jutting out from her thin torso.

“Mmhhhrrrr!” Twilight shouted and renewed her efforts to wriggle free, but the vines held firm, and all she could do was jiggle her backside as it ballooned larger. Already it was twice as wide as she was, and the vine pumping her up showed no sign of running out soon. The side of her haunches squeezed out between the grasping flower petals—smooth bulges of purple hair between the black spines.

As her rump cheeks approached the size of beach balls, she suddenly felt something else back there. Another flower sidled up to her backside, just below the first one—coming to rest right on her marehood. Twilight yelped with surprise and went still, trying to refrain from brushing any further against that invader. But her backside continued wobbling, rubbing her up and down, up and down against the flower’s surprisingly soft surface. It felt like a tongue lapping gently at her nethers, and sparks of pleasure shot up her spine with every motion. After half a minute, her billowing backside’s wobbling diminished, sparing her from further ministrations—then her hips bucked of their own accord. Twilight screamed internally, but her body disobeyed, pushing her sex up and down, up and down against the flower’s stimulating softness.

All the while, the other flower continued pumping into Twilight’s backside—more and more of those purple haunches slipping out of the petals’ grasp as they inflated ever larger. She had enough rump for three mares now, and was gaining more by the second. Already, the surreal sensation of her own hide brushing against itself came to Twilight, as her ballooned haunches began to swallow her hind legs. Then the black vines’ grip on those legs seemed to tighten—but it wasn’t the vines that were moving. Gas from the flower pumped into those hind legs, filling them until their puffy sides bulged between the vines’ embrace. As her hind hooves puffed out like giant, purple marshmallows, those black tendrils loosened their grips. They still brushed up and down her swollen appendages, but no longer coiled tightly enough restrain her. They didn’t need to: when Twilight tried to kick her hind legs, she found them stiff and unresponsive, inflated too full to flex anymore. They simply jutted straight out, slowly sinking into her ballooning haunches’ embrace—and her futile efforts to move them just made her backside wobble harder, rubbing her nethers even more quickly against the flower behind.

Twilight’s rear hooves suddenly felt lighter on the ground. As she continued involuntarily jerking her hips, her puffy hooves simply wobbled in the air—her huge rump rested on the forest floor now, and lifted her legs as it ballooned even larger. Her cheeks were a pair of purple exercise balls now, and great bulges of air slid through the vine to inflate her backside even further. Those cheeks grew large enough to each contain an adult mare, and just kept growing.

Then, a familiar sound reached Twilight’s ears through the haze of arousal: hoofsteps again, and the same voice from before. “Mmmrrrmmm…” Twilight tried to call out to Zecora, but her voice had weakened, and now was barely audible through the flower over her snout. “Nnrrrrrrrrrr…”

As Zecora’s voice faded again—the zebra passing by without noticing Twilight, once again—the flower on Twilight’s nethers finally made its move. No longer content with the unicorn’s rubbing herself against it, the bloom pushed back, gently at first but with steadily growing pressure. Its petals folded back against the stem—a shape much more suited to penetration. And that’s just what it did. Twilight’s arousal-slicked lips parted easily for the flower’s tip; she moaned and shivered as the head invaded her with one smooth motion. And then it thrusted, jerking an inch deeper and eliciting a muffled shout from Twilight. And then again, and again—inch after inch, the vine penetrated deeper into her core. Her inner muscles clamped down on the thick vegetable tendril impaling her, but her passage was too lubricated to provide any real resistance. All this did was ensure Twilight felt every bump and ridge of the vine’s skin, with every twitch of motion beneath that skin pushing her to higher heights of arousal. At each thrust, Twilight’s moans—pleasured or pained, she couldn’t tell anymore—grew a little louder, a little higher-pitched.

All the while, Twilight’s body yearned to take in more and more of that thick mass, her hips thrusting against the vine of their own accord—or at least, thrusting as much as they could, with her legs inflated stiff and sinking into her ballooning haunches. Most of Twilight’s torso was angled off the ground by the sheer size of her swollen backside: twice as tall as she normally was herself, and four times as wide, utterly dwarfing the flower that continued pumping gas into it. The bloom was still clamped tightly over her backdoor, but had given up all pretense of grasping Twilight’s enormous rump as it inflated ever larger. But those purple cheeks’ massive curves were far from neglected: more black vines rubbed in circles all over, massaging her cutie marks as they stretched almost as large as a tablecloth. And the larger Twilight’s rump expanded, the more sensitive it became; by this point, the vine massage on her outside felt almost as heavenly as the thick stem burrowing deeper inside her.

That flower’s head finally encountered some resistance: the last barrier before her womb. But the vine’s thrusting didn’t cease. As the flower rammed futilely against her cervix, more and more of the stem forced its way into her, and it began folding over itself—filling her canal to the absolute limit with vegetable flesh. Twilight’s eyes rolled back in her head as she filled more and more: plant mass in her love tunnel and gas in her rump. Gas that was beginning to seep into the rest of her body—her torso was rounding out, and her forelegs were thickening within their bonds.

Deep inside Twilight, the flower thrust yet again, and this time the barrier yielded. The flower penetrated into her womb—but the vine kept going. Foot after foot of the black vine slithered in, coiling around itself to fill Twilight’s innermost space within seconds. Her belly bulged with the mass; already, she looked like she’d swallowed two entire watermelons. And the vine continued forcing its way inside, expanding her further with every inch it thrust in.

After two more feet of thick stem, a transformation took place. The vine widened along its entire length, completely filling Twilight’s canal more than she thought possible. It formed an airtight seal—just in time for the flower’s pores to open and commence pumping clouds of gas into her womb. Twilight’s belly expanded even more quickly than before, growing towards the ground.

Then, an all-too-familiar voice brought Twilight’s racing mind back to Earth. “Now now, what’s this I hear?” Zecora said in her rhythmic cadence. “A pony, scared and lost, I fear.”

“Mmmrrr!” Twilight tried to call, though what she meant as a shout came out more as a moan. “Hhrrrm! Mnnrrrmm!”

Weak though Twilight’s voice was, Zecora apparently heard it. She stepped around a tree about twenty feet away and walked towards Twilight—her slow, cautious steps giving the inflated unicorn plenty of time to balloon even larger. Her rump was already big enough to brush against the lowest tree branches; her belly squished into the ground and spread sideways as it filled with vines and gas. Twilight’s forelegs inflated thicker, bulging around the vines still binding them. They were just as swollen as her hind legs—which by that point had sunk nearly up to their fetlocks in her ballooning haunches.

The vines on her forehooves released their grip and joined their brothers in massaging her jumbo-sized rump. After all, there was no more need to restrain her: with all four of her puffy legs sticking straight out, Twilight wasn’t going anywhere under her own power. Zecora finally drew close enough to touch Twilight—and that’s just what she did, prodding at one of those swollen forelegs, flicking it and watching it wobble back into place.

“Such a beautiful sight before my eyes,” Zecora said. “My plunderseeds have caught me a marvelous prize.”

“Mrrrrmmmm…?” Twilight asked.

“I’m sorry,” Zecora answered, a hint of a smile on her face, “but I can’t hear a thing you say. Why don’t I get that vine out of your way?”

She bit into the stem just below the black bloom, then jerked away, yanking the flower off Twilight’s face. Freed from its grasp, Twilight sputtered and shook her head. With unfocused eyes, she looked up at Zecora and said, “Help! Please! Get me aaaaaaaaaahhhh…” A well-timed slap from a vine on her enormous rear made Twilight’s plea trail off into a moan.

“Well, that’s quite a tough nut to crack…” Zecora gestured at the black flower, now held in her forehoof; it was still intermittently spewing out the gas. “Thanks to this gassy anaphrodisiac. But your problem’s not one I’ll dismiss.” She produced a glass bottle, twice as big as a mare’s head and filled with a purple liquid. “First of all, you must drink this.”

She pulled the stopper out and shoved the bottle into Twilight’s mouth. “Ulp! Ulp! Ulp!” Twilight nodded back as she obediently gulped down the purple liquid.

Meanwhile, Zecora trotted around her, walking a wide circle around that huge rump, already several times taller than her and still inflating larger. Once behind the ballooning unicorn, Zecora said, “And what we have up there, is indeed a sight most fair,” as her gaze traveled up… and up… and up. Near the top of those weather balloon-sized, purple globes, Twilight’s tail was no longer bound by any vines, but still flagged of its own accord. Below that, the first black flower continued pumping into Twilight’s backside—with watermelon-sized bulges of gas sliding up the stem to expand those cheeks ever larger.

And below that was Zecora’s target, still within reach. Zecora reared back and pressed her torso into Twilight’s rump, forelegs spread wide to embrace its massive curves. This put her head just a few inches to the left of Twilight’s sex—stretched nearly to the limit with the black vine still burrowing inch after inch, yard after yard into her. Zecora leaned forward and gently ran her tongue up one of those puffy, purple lips.

“Hhhmmm!” Twilight spat out the now-empty jar. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Zecora ducked under the vine and licked the other side of Twilight’s nethers, eliciting an “Eeep!” from the unicorn.

Zecora swallowed the mixture of Twilight’s juices and her own saliva that had accumulated on her tongue before speaking: “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scoff. Just as you asked, I’m helping you get off.”

“No! That’s now what Iiiiiaaaaaaaaahhhh…” Twilight was cut off by more attention from Zecora’s tongue. Moaning helplessly, she continued inflating larger and larger. Her rump, nearly as tall as Discord, pushed tree branches away with its growth. Her hind legs were almost completely swallowed by her ballooning haunches; only the hooftips were still visible. Her torso and belly, though dwarfed by her gigantic backside, were still a respectable size, swollen with three times Twilight’s normal volume, and engulfing her forelegs up to the knees.

Twilight was a volcano about to explode. Her skin burned all over from stretching to contain the gas and vines, filling her without end. Her loins and womb burned even hotter with lust, from every touch of Zecora’s tongue and every thrust of the thick vine. Hotter and hotter, the fire burned inside, until Twilight would have feared setting the forest ablaze, if she could think that coherently.

Suddenly, a wave of cold washed over Twilight’s huge balloon of a body, from her nose to her tail. Along with it, her skin grew distinctly smoother and glossier; it squeaked all over as she inflated even larger, the sound loudest at the places where her haunches and shoulders engulfed her puffy legs. Paradoxically, this sudden coldness pushed Twilight’s arousal even higher, to the very precipice.

Zecora gave Twilight’s rubbery rump a good, hard squeeze and smiled at the high-pitched sound that created. “Now I know your trouble has passed” she said. “My potion negated that bothersome gas. Though it comes with some truly odd side effects…”

“Odd? Whaaaa… Ooohhh… What are you…”

“I promise they’re no reason for you to be vexed.”

Then Zecora wrapped her lips around the unicorn’s button and gave a good, hard suck. Twilight gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head, as that stimulation sent her brain rocketing over the precipice and cannonballing into an ocean of lust. She shuddered all over, her rubbery body squeaking even louder than before, her forelegs wobbling as they sank even deeper into her still-expanding torso, and her hind legs disappearing completely into her haunches.

Zecora smiled and pressed her whole body into Twilight’s rump, perfectly positioning herself to feel the unicorn shake from her climax. But this left the unicorn’s pearl unattended, which simply would not do. So Zecora grabbed the nearest black vine and pulled it over with her forehoof, guiding the tendril until it wrapped around the sensitive nub. It squeezed and stroked, provoking further gasps and shudders from the unicorn. Zecora, meanwhile, returned to four hooves and walked back around the still-inflating purple balloon.

By this point, the top of Twilight’s rump was lost somewhere in the forest canopy above, each cheek easily the size of a house. Tree branches cracked and fell to the ground, broken by the unrelenting expansion of that purple backside. Twilight’s torso inflated so huge, Princess Celestia could have stood inside and fully spread her wings. Her neck and forelegs were over halfway swallowed as her body grew larger and larger, with no end in sight—the two vines behind continuing to pump impossible volumes of gas into her.

Finally, Zecora arrived back in front of the enormous unicorn. Twilight paid her no need: her eyes were spinning in their sockets, and her tongue lolled out of her open mouth, jaw brushing against her inflated torso. Zecora prodded the curves of that swollen chest, her forehoof sinking several inches into that smooth, shiny skin, before she pulled it free.

“Now, my lovely purple balloon, I must ask of you a simple boon. I helped get you off, you see…” Zecora said. She faced away from Twilight and bent her forelegs slightly. Her tail went up, and her hind legs spread. “So could you kindly do the same for me?”

Twilight shook her head and attempted to refocus her eyes. A blurry view of Zecora’s backside slowly came into focus: her cheeks perky and inviting, her flower glistening. And then it filled her entire field of vision, while the world spun around Twilight. The vines massaging her rump had all cooperated to roll her forward, planting her face directly in Zecora’s snatch and holding her in place. Twilight, still in a daze, flicked her tongue out and immediately went to work.

Zecora arched her back and grunted at the sensation. Twilight’s tongue—wet and soft—darted around Zecora’s folds and deep inside. Twilight’s soft lips smacked and slurped against Zecora’s nethers. Even her nose and the breath from her nostrils tickled Zecora down there. What Twilight lacked in technique, she nearly made up for with eagerness.

All the while, the black vine in the back continued forcing itself, inch after inch, into Twilight’s marehood—and each thrust shoved Twilight harder into Zecora’s. In and out, in and out, Twilight’s tongue weaved in time with the pounding she received herself. Underneath that rhythm, her continued inflation also—slowly and steadily—pressed her face into Zecora’s sex. As Twilight’s torso expanded large enough to comfortably fit both Princesses and all Twilight’s family and friends, Zecora had to lock her hind legs and push back against the purple balloon, lest she be bowled over. Even so, Zecora slowly slid forward, her hooves digging furrows in the soil, as the relentlessly inflating unicorn continued eating her out.

Twilight gulped, unconsciously swallowing a mouthful of Zecora’s juices. Its flavor—salty, musky, and surprisingly spicy—cut through the unicorn’s orgasmic mental haze. Twilight’s eyes snapped open, as it finally sank in that she was sunken muzzle-deep in another mare. “Mmhhhmm!” Her alarmed cry was muffled by the zebra’s thick, muscular posterior.

“” Zecora said, lapsing into her native Zebraic.

“Hhmmrrrmmm!” Twilight’s voice sent vibrations up and down Zecora’s entire core.

“”

“Nrrrrmmmm!”

Zecora arched her back even further than it already was, pressing herself harder onto her balloon-toy’s face. Her button slipped between Twilight’s lips, and the unicorn reflexively clamped down on it and sucked. As if sensing the time was right, the vine caressing Twilight’s gave it a particularly strong squeeze—and both mares climaxed simultaneously. Zecora whinnied and clenched every muscle in her body, squeezing Twilight’s muzzle between her haunches. Twilight shook and squeaked all over her huge, rounded body, and she moaned loudly into Zecora’s loins—provoking more trembling and louder whinnies from the zebra.

Twilight’s entire world was a blur of overwhelming pleasures. Zecora’s soft, tight, wet sex on her muzzle; the scent of musk in her nostrils; the spicy taste of arousal on her tongue. The vine in her own marehood, relentlessly penetrating her with endless lengths of its stem—as its brother played a concerto on her sensitive nub. A whole symphony of black vines and tree branches caressing and prodding her rump—inflated larger than a house and sensitive enough to be an erogenous zone itself. Complete entrapment within her own body, as even her forelegs sank into the balloon of her torso. And all over her body, the perverse joy of her rubbery skin stretching farther and farther to contain ever-larger volumes of gas.

A heavy weight on the inflated curve that had been Twilight’s shoulder pulled her slightly out of her daze, back into the real world. Zecora had pulled herself off Twilight’s face and, with shaky legs, now leaned against the swollen unicorn. Too tired to properly nuzzle, she rested her head on Twilight’s neck—or at least the bit that hadn’t been swallowed yet by her inflating torso.

For her part, Twilight panted and occasionally grunted. The vines behind her were still going at it—penetrating her, groping her, pumping her larger and larger—already stimulating her towards the next climax.

Pulling away, Zecora said, “That’s enough for me, but it sure was fun. How about you? Are you done?”

“Mwuh?” Twilight answered. “Yes, yes, I’m finished! Get me out of here!”

“You want to keep going? I swear… Never doubt the appetite of a young mare.”

“No!” Twilight panted. “I said I want…” Pant, pant. “...want to stop!” Pant, pant. “Let me go!”

Twilight’s inflating torso was quickly approaching house-sized, yet it was still dwarfed by her blimp of a backside. Her haunches were squeezed between two tree trunks, and slowly bulged around them as more and more gas pumped into her posterior. She could feel sunlight and a gentle breeze on the very top of her rump—inflated so large that its highest curves peeked above the Everfree canopy. If she continued filling for much longer, she’d be visible from Ponyville.

“You’re sure of this? I haven’t misheard?” Zecora said, as she picked another vine off the ground—the one with the flower that had been clamped over Twilight’s face. “I can bring this to end, if you just say the word. As if this encounter had never transpired…”

The flower in her hoof shot out another puff of gas.

“I, I…” Twilight panted. “Stop it… Ooohhhhhh…”

“Very well. As you desire…”

Zecora placed the bloom on Twilight’s face, holding it in place until it clamped securely over the unicorn’s muzzle. This time, it formed a proper seal. So when the vine expelled more of that gas, it all went straight into Twilight’s mouth.

“Nnnnmmm!” Twilight pleaded as her cheeks swelled up, as her torso began inflating faster than before.

Zecora was already walking away. She called over her shoulder, “Just hold tight, and I’ll come back for you—if I don’t forget, in a day or two…”

“Hhhhhhhhhnnnnnnn!” Twilight screamed as her eyes rolled back in her head, as one of the tree trunks creaked and bent from the force of her rump’s relentless expansion. Then another orgasm took her—the first of many yet to arrive.