Author's Note

Chapter contains: Human/Humanized, Incest, Unrealistic Anatomy, Harem/Polygamy

Fantasy

Two sets of footsteps echoed throughout Carousel Boutique as two pairs of feet made their way up the stairs to the second floor. The first pair was snuggled inside deep purple heels elegant enough to draw attention, yet sturdy enough to support a woman throughout a long day of work. The woman in question also wore a matching purple pencil skirt and a snug white blouse that displayed her dainty, yet curvy figure. Her flawless, pale features were adorned with makeup, and her long, purple hair was perfectly coifed, just as it always was.

The apparel of the woman following behind her, in contrast, seemed to have been chosen much more for function than fashion. A tall pair of leather boots and worn, faded jeans concealed a pair of thick, powerful legs, wide hips, and a prominent muscled posterior. A comfortable flannel shirt covered her torso, hanging loosely enough to let her ample chest rise and fall with her breaths. An old cowboy hat sat upon her head, from underneath which flowed a waterfall of straw-colored hair tied in a ponytail.

The two women, known to their friends and families as Rarity and Applejack, made their way up to the second floor landing, then approached the door they found there. “And so he says to me, ‘That’s no camisole, that’s my wife!’” said Rarity before breaking into a fit of ladylike giggling.

Applejack forced out a chuckle so as not to make the moment awkward. She liked a good joke as much as the next girl, but trying to keep up with Rarity’s fashion humor was a task far beyond her capabilities.

Rarity quickly recovered from her self-induced mirth, taking a deep breath and regaining her composure. “I swear, that Hoity Toity is going to be the death of me someday,” she said, reaching out and grasping the handle of the door before her. She quickly pushed the door open, revealing the room beyond to the two of them.

Rarity’s workroom, a large, circular space, occupied the entirety of the boutique’s second floor. While it was a fairly spacious room, one could be forgiven for thinking it much smaller than it was, due to the huge amount of clutter. Large tables against the wall held a variety of tools of the fashion trade, as well as half-finished garments, scraps of fabric, and empty teacups. A small army of mannequins were scattered throughout, each one wearing some dress, suit, or other apparel in various stages of completion. Additionally, several racks of clothing were shoved haphazardly out of the way, leaving enough space to move about fairly easily. More fabric littered the floor in between everything else, ranging in size from tiny scraps to whole bolts of vibrant cloth.

“Anyway, come right on in darling,” said Rarity. “Make yourself at home.” Applejack followed Rarity inside, carefully avoiding the scattered mess. “I’m certain I left it right over...here.” Rarity walked over to one of the nearby tables, which was piled high with bolts of fabric, unfinished clothing, and other miscellaneous objects. She began carefully sifting through the pile in search of her quarry. “Erm...this may...take a minute.”

“That’s alright,” said Applejack. “Take your time.”

While Rarity continued her search, Applejack’s put her hands in her pockets and absentmindedly looked around the room. She always found a slight bit of humor in the fact that the prim and proper dressmaker always kept such a messy workspace. “Organized chaos” Rarity liked to call it. Applejack had never been bothered by such messes, so long as the results were not affected, and Rarity’s growing renown in the fashion world certainly seemed to suggest that that was the case. Twilight Sparkle, on the other hand, typically had to be physically restrained in order to keep her compulsive organizational tendencies in check whenever she saw Rarity’s messes.

When Applejack’s eyes fell upon a gleam of pure white amongst the rainbow of dresses, fabric, and other detritus covering the walls and floor, she stopped and stared. She slowly turned and carefully walked over to a pair of clothes racks near the wall, gently pushing them aside. Behind the racks, now fully revealed, was a mannequin adorned in a long, elegant, white dress. On the mannequin’s head, hanging down over its nonexistent face, was a translucent white veil. She recognized what the garment was, of course, yet she still found herself oddly transfixed by it, as if she had never seen such a thing in her life.

“Who’s this for?” Applejack asked to no one in particular.

Rarity paused her search momentarily, looking over her shoulder to see what Applejack was referring to. “Oh, that?” she said, returning to her search as she spoke. “That’s a wonderful little gown I’m making for one of my friends in Canterlot. She’s getting married soon. She and her fiancé have been engaged for quite a while, but she insists on waiting until June for the wedding. All the more time to prepare for the ceremony, I suppose. She’s told me some of the things they’ve been planning, and I must say, I cannot wait until the day comes and I get to see her walk down the aisle. I’ve heard they’re going to have the finest...”

Rarity continued on, gushing about all the fancy foods, decorations, entertainment, and other sophisticated things that would be included in her friend’s wedding. Applejack, however, heard none of it, so focused was she on the beautiful gown before her. She tentatively reached out, lightly stroking the fabric of the dress with her fingertips. It felt so soft, so delicate, so unabashedly feminine. She imagined what it might feel like, not on her fingers, but on her body. In her mind, it was her wearing the dress and her walking down the aisle.

She could see it all so clearly in her mind. Her toned, muscled body was gently squeezed by the silken fabric which covered her from shoulder to feet. Her long, yellow hair flowed down her back, wavering slightly in the breeze. All around her, her friends and family had assembled in the orchard, all of them sitting in their seats and watching her with a smile. She looked through her veil, peering down to the other end of the aisle. Standing there, his back turned to her, was a young man dressed in a fine suit.

Her feet slowly carried her forward almost of their own accord, bringing her ever closer to the man before her. She couldn’t recognize him immediately, but for some reason, he felt strangely familiar to her. It took her only a few moments to reach him, but in her dreamlike haze, it felt as if she had just walked halfway around the world. She tentatively stepped up beside him, then turned to face him head-on. She gasped as the man turned towards her and gave her a smile she had seen countless timed before.

“Anon,” she whispered.

Anon reached up and slowly lifted her veil, removing the only barrier between the two of them. He placed his hands aside her face, then slowly leaned in towards her. “Applejack,” he whispered back.

“Anon,” she said, closing her eyes.

“Applejack,” he said in a strangely forceful and strangely feminine tone.

“Anon,” she said.

“Applejack!” he said in a tone that was not only forceful, but obviously not his.

Applejack’s eyes jerked open, falling upon the mannequin before her once again. She whipped her head around and saw Rarity standing behind her, looking mildly concerned. The reality of her situation quickly returned to Applejack. She was not a blushing bride-to-be; she was merely a simple farm girl picking up an order from the local dressmaker.

“Darling, are you alright?” said Rarity. “You seem...distracted.”

Applejack blushed, lowering her gaze as she turned to face Rarity. “Uh, yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m...I’m alright.”

“Are you sure?” said Rarity, reaching out and placing a hand on Applejack’s cheek.

Applejack looked up at her friend, her closest friend, the friend who had been with her for longer than any other. When she saw the worried look on Rarity’s face, she immediately felt stupid for getting her so worked up over nothing. Applejack sighed, then gave Rarity the most genuine smile she could muster. “I’m alright,” she said. “Honest.”

Rarity’s concern slowly melted away, replaced with a gentle smile. “Good,” she said, removing her hand. “Anyway, I have your mother’s order right here.” Rarity held out a large, colorful paper bag decorated with the image of a carousel that she had been holding in her other hand.

“Thanks,” said Applejack, reaching out and taking the bag from her.

“You know, I...I never would have thought your mother would request...something like this from me,” said Rarity.

“Well, er...there’s a...first time for everythin’, I guess?” said Applejack, shrugging and scratching the back of her head.

“You know I don’t mean to pry,” said Rarity, “but...she wouldn’t happen to be...wanting to wear this for someone else...would she?”

“I, uh...” began Applejack, her blush returning, “I wouldn’t know anythin’ about that.”

“Applejack,” said Rarity softly, “what goes on at Sweet Apple Acres is...none of my business...and I don’t intend to make it my business. The only reason I ask is because...I care about her. Your mother has always been very kind to me. Plus...she gave me my best friend. I only want to be sure that...if she has found someone new to keep her company...she’s found someone who will be good to her. Someone who’s...right for her.”

Applejack was a bit taken aback at Rarity’s selfless interest, but after thinking about it, she felt foolish for being surprised. Of course Rarity only had Buttercup’s best interests at heart, just as she did for all of Applejack’s family. Applejack chuckled openly at her own trepidation, then faced Rarity with a confident smile. “Rarity,” she said, “you don’t gotta worry about that. My mom is...in good hands. I promise you that.”

Rarity smiled back at her, visibly relieved. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. The two stared at each other for a moment before she spoke again. “So...would care for a cup of tea before you depart? I just got a new batch of camomile I’ve been meaning to try.”

“Oh, no thanks,” said Applejack. “I gotta get back to the farm. We’re gonna start this year’s plantin’ today and I don’t want Anon and Apple Bloom to have to do all the work themselves.”

“Ah, of course,” said Rarity as the two started walking to the door. “Well...have a good day, darling.”

“You too, sugarcube,” said Applejack, giving Rarity a friendly nudge.

As Applejack reached for the door, Rarity piped up once more. “Oh, and one more thing!” she said. “If I don’t see him in the next few days...tell Anon that I wish him a happy birthday.”

“Can do,” said Applejack as she opened the door and stepped out. As she headed for the stairs, Applejack looked over her shoulder at Rarity and tipped her wide-brimmed hat.

Rarity smiled back at her and gave her a ladylike wave as she walked back down the stairs. When Applejack was out of sight, Rarity allowed herself a soft chuckle. She thought to herself that Anon would probably be having a very happy birthday whether she wished him one or not.

The tinny ringing of a bell echoed through the air as the door to the local hobby shop was pushed open. Three young women walked through the open door and out onto the street, giggling amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe those two actually went through with that,” said the first woman, a slender thing with a reddish-pink hair bow poking up over her long red hair. She wore a thigh-length jean skirt which showed off her long, shapely legs, their smooth curves the product of years of farm labor. A pair of sandals adorned her petite feet, showing off the toes painted in the same color as her hair. A red t-shirt decorated with the image of an apple clung to her torso snugly, displaying her thin waist and her big, perky breasts. In one of her hands, she carried a shopping bag marked with the name of the store they had just exited.

“I know, right? You’d think they’d have at least had the sense to wear helmets,” said the second woman, following closely behind the first. She was slightly shorter than the first woman and had a much softer body than the toned farm girl, the product of a much more sedentary lifestyle and a greater appreciation of indoor activities. Luckily for her, her feminine flesh had collected in all the right places, giving her squeezable thighs, a soft, round butt, and large breasts only slightly smaller than the first woman’s. On top of that, she had a gorgeous hourglass figure and moved with a refined grace that made her appear elegant even when she wasn’t trying to be. She wore a breezy white dress, white flats, and a modest sunhat over her swirly, purple-and-pink hair. A long, ivory-colored horn stuck out from the center of her forehead.

“Are you kidding? Snips and Snails don’t have half a brain between them,” said the third woman. She was the shortest of the three, as well as having the leanest body of all of them. From her thin yet powerful limbs, to her slender waist, and her toned stomach, she exuded speed and athleticism. What little fat she had on her petite body was in her cute little breasts and her tight, round butt. While her curves were not quite as distinct as those of her companions, she nevertheless had a sculpted body that drew just as much attention from the opposite sex (and sometimes, from the same sex) as any other woman’s. She wore tight exercise shorts, sneakers, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. A head of unruly purple hair sprouted from her head and a pair of orange wings were folded against her back.

The three women laughed together as they gathered before the shop. While the three of them were very different in both appearance and personality, one thing they did have in common was their sense of humor, a trait they had shared since they had been little girls. Something else they had shared since childhood was the near-identical cutie marks emblazoned on the backs of their necks. Three tri-colored shields, bearing the images of an apple, a wing, and a starred music note, respectively, marked the three of them as sharing a bond as special as one could possibly hope to share with their friends.

Apple Bloom looked back and forth between her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders as the three of them settled down. “Thanks for comin’ shoppin’ with me girls,” she said. “It’s always a treat havin’ you around.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” said Sweetie Belle. “I’d been waiting for an excuse to go shoe-shopping for weeks. It’s just a shame they didn’t have those boots in my size.”

“Ugh, don’t start that again,” said Scootaloo. “We were in there for like an hour and you didn’t even buy anything.” She walked over to the side of the shop and retrieved the scooter that she had left leaning against it earlier. The four-wheeled vehicle was as sleek and aerodynamic as the woman it belonged to, projecting speed and power even when still. The nicks and scratches of years of use covered its surface, yet its polished metal frame shone brightly in the midday sun.

“Hey, we sat with you while you were waiting for that thing to get tuned up,” said Sweetie Belle teasingly.

“Well, yeah,” said Scootaloo, “but you can’t argue with these results, can you?”

Taking hold of her scooter, Scootaloo hopped on and immediately kicked off against the ground, sending her scooting off down the street. Her wings instinctively unfurled and flapped rapidly, pushing her along as fast as the wind. Scootaloo expertly weaved her way up, down, and around the street, dodging obstacles and the occasional bystander. She took advantage of the opportunity to show off many of the tricks in her playbook, dexterously pulling off all kinds of spins, flips, and other things that the two women watching couldn’t even put names to. After doing donuts and whipping up a mini-tornado of dirt from the ground, she rode back to her friends and skillfully stopped on a dime right in front of them, striking a heroic pose.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but be impressed by Scootaloo’s talent, and so raised their hands and gave her a synchronized golf clap. “Thank you, thank you,” said Scootaloo, taking an exaggerated bow before her audience.

“I gotta admit, you do know what you’re doin’ with that thing,” said Apple Bloom.

“You bet I do!” said Scootaloo, a triumphant grin on her face. “Maybe you should get one for your brother instead of that boring old model kit. I wouldn’t mind showing him a few of my moves.”

“Give him a break; he likes these things,” said Apple Bloom. “I know it’s a bit nerdy, but...they’re actually kinda fun to do once you get into it.”

“If you say so,” said Scootaloo, shrugging her shoulders.

“Well, I think it’s sweet you like to do those with him,” said Sweetie Belle, putting a hand on Apple Bloom’s shoulder. “If he were my brother, I’d do the same thing.”

“If he were your brother, that’d sure make your constant crushing over him a bit awkward,” said Scootaloo.

“Shut up,” said Sweetie Belle, glaring at Scootaloo.

Scootaloo put her hands up defensively. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with liking the big, hunky farm boy,” she said. “You just gotta watch out for his sister.” She flashed them a smug grin, then spun around and scooted off before they could respond.

“Oh, that Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle grumbled. “I love her, but she really gets on my nerves sometimes.” She glanced over at Apple Bloom, her expression softening. “Hey. You know I’d never try to get with Anon...right? I know how awkward that would be for you.”

Apple Bloom looked back at her, trying her hardest to keep a straight face. “I know,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “And...I really appreciate it.”

Keeping her most closely guarded secret from her best friends was one of the most difficult things Apple Bloom had ever had to do. She loved them and trusted them more than almost anyone else in the world, and yet she still feared for the consequences should she come clean about her incestuous relationship. Complicating the matter more was Sweetie Belle’s longstanding crush on her brother, which Sweetie had historically kept in check out of respect for Anon and Apple Bloom’s sibling relationship. While Apple Bloom had had no qualms about this in the past, after everything she had been through with her siblings in the past year, she felt more and more guilty about relying on the excuse. She knew she would have to come clean to her about the true nature of her relationship with her brother sometime soon, for both of their sakes.

“You’re a great girl, Sweetie Belle,” said Apple Bloom. “You’re kind, you’re smart, and you’re one of the prettiest girls in town. I know you’ll find someone great to spend your life with.”

“Thanks, Apple Bloom,” said Sweetie Belle, smiling back at her.

“If you ever need help findin’ someone, you oughta go pay your sister a visit,” said Apple Bloom. “That girl’s always got men knockin' on her door. I bet she could help you find someone, no sweat!”

At the mention of her sister, Sweetie Belle suddenly blushed, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh, um...I, uh...I guess she could,” said Sweetie Belle, averting her gaze and clearing her throat. “Say, let’s catch up with Scootaloo! We don’t want to lose her.” Without waiting for a reply, Sweetie Belle set off down the street at a brisk walk that was, for the graceful woman, the equivalent of a run.

Apple Bloom stared after her for a moment, utterly confused as to why the mention of Rarity in the context of romance would make Sweetie Belle so flustered. Shaking off the feeling, she quickly picked up her shopping bag and ran after her. The Crusaders soon regrouped and continued on down the street, heading nowhere in particular. The topics of their conversation shifted to those more typical for them, such as school, their friends, and those whom they helped with cutie mark problems. As they meandered on, enjoying the warm, sunny weather, the little storefronts around them gradually faded away, replaced with the grassy fields and idyllic foliage of the town’s parks.

Sweetie Belle inhaled deeply, smiling as the sweet scent of flowers caressed her nose. “There’s nothing quite like spring, is there,” she sighed.

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom halfheartedly. She enjoyed the season as much as the next person, perhaps even more so, on account of it being the time of year when her namesake would decorate the trees of Sweet Apple Acres, signifying new life and new beginnings. At that particular moment, however, her mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of her family, their relationship, and her secret. She had tried to put it out of her mind after her friends had brought it up, but the worries had lingered there like a rotten apple, their rank odor distracting her from the beautiful day and her pleasant company.

Determined to snap herself out of her funk, she forced herself to look around her and take in her surroundings. There were plenty of other people out enjoying the day in addition to her and her friends. Small children ran about the gentle hills and meadows that surrounded the town, playing games of tag, hide-and-seek, and other such youthful activities. Older people were not afraid to let loose and enjoy themselves either, as she saw some of them having picnics with their friends, throwing frisbees around, and flying kites in the gentle breeze. For a brief moment, Apple Bloom forgot all about her troubles, losing herself in the mirth that surrounded her.

When her eyes fell on a pair of people sitting on a nearby bench, however, her mind began to wander back to more important things. The people in question were an elderly couple, a little old man and a littler old woman, whom Apple Bloom knew from around town. She wasn’t particularly close to them, but she knew that the two of them had been married for decades. Even if she hadn’t known that, she probably could have guessed it from the way the old man was resting his head on his wife’s shoulder, his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. The woman had her knitting in her lap, slowly working the yarn with her wizened fingers, while occasionally looking down at her husband and smiling.

Apple Bloom’s first thought upon seeing them was that the two looked absolutely adorable, just a happily married couple out enjoying their time together. She pictured the two of them being like that all the time, eating their meals, running their errands, and cuddling up together in bed just as lovingly as they were acting in that moment. How wonderful it must be to spend your life with someone, slowly growing old together in each other’s arms, she thought to herself. Apple Bloom’s pace slowed and the smile gradually faded from her lips without her even thinking about it.

Yes, she thought, that would be nice; it would be much more than nice, in fact. She could picture it all so clearly in her head, as if it were her life she were imagining instead. She could feel the wood of the bench beneath her and feel the kiss of the sun hanging above her. She could feel the soft embrace of a modest, yet pleasant-looking dress not unlike the ones her grandmother wore. Looking down, she could see her hands resting in her lap, the skin of which displayed the wrinkles and prominent veins of advanced age. Lastly, she could feel a gentle squeeze as another aged hand reached out and took hold of one of hers.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze upwards, looking over into the face of the one sitting next to her, the one whose hand was holding her so lovingly. The face was that of an old man, bearing wrinkles just as long and deep as those she imagined must have been on her own face. His hair was bone white and his once-youthful eyes had the depth of decades within them, yet to her, he looked as proud and handsome as she could ever recall him being. She knew him; she knew his face as well as she knew her own.

“Anon,” she said softly.

He gave her a smile, the same smile he gave her every day, and the same smile he would give her every day for the rest of her life. He raised a hand and placed it on her cheek, softly stroking it just as he always did.

“Apple Bloom,” he said.

“Anon,” she said, smiling back at him.

“Apple Bloom,” he said, slowly leaning in towards her.

“Anon,” she whispered, letting her eyelids fall closed.

“Hey, Apple Bloom! What gives?” cried a loud, feminine voice.

Apple Bloom bolted upright, her eyes flying open again. A brief moment of panicked confusion passed as her brain came to terms with her surroundings. Once again, she was standing in the middle of the little path that weaved its way through the park. Once again, she felt the strength and vigor of a teenager in her body. And once again, she saw her friends standing a few yards in front of her, looking back at her with puzzled looks on their faces.

“Are you alright, Apple Bloom?” said Sweetie Belle.

A flash of embarrassment briefly manifested on Apple Bloom’s cheeks, but she was quick to recover. “Uh, yeah, yeah, girls, I’m...I’m fine,” she said, throwing in a chuckle for good measure. She forced her legs to carry her forward again, quickly catching up to the others.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo exchanged a quick glance, but did not press the issue. “Okay then,” said Scootaloo, casually facing forward again. “Hey! You two wanna get some ice cream?” She inclined her head towards an ice cream cart situated a little ways up the path, where a vendor was distributing cones to a gaggle of children.

“Ooh! I’d love to!” said Sweetie Belle. “How about you, Apple Bloom?”

“Actually...I think I’m gonna head home now,” said Apple Bloom. “I just remembered I...got some chores to take care of. Maybe some other time.”

“Well, alright then,” said Sweetie Belle, looking mildly disappointed.

“See you later, I guess,” said Scootaloo.

“See you, girls,” said Apple Bloom, stepping forward and putting her arms around them. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo reciprocated, the three of them sharing a quick, but loving hug. “Thanks for hangin’ out with me today.”

“Anytime,” said Scootaloo.

The three parted, sharing one last smile before they split their party. Shopping bag in tow, Apple Bloom turned and headed off back down the path, giving the others a parting wave as she went. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle waved back at her, then turned and walked off towards the ice cream stand. As Apple Bloom set her sights on home, she breathed a contented sigh, profoundly grateful to have such wonderful friends in addition to a wonderful family. Hopefully, she thought, she would never have to choose between them.

The warm, springtime sun cast its gentle rays down on Buttercup’s skin as she made her way through the streets of town. All around her, she saw friends and acquaintances doing their morning shopping, running their market stalls, or just out enjoying the beautiful day they had all been blessed with. Buttercup was especially grateful for the return of warm weather, as it meant that she could once again wear one of the pretty sundresses that she favored. That day’s dress had a red-and-white checkerboard pattern, and was one of her favorites.

If the weather wasn’t enough to make her smile, the delectable scent wafting through the air and into her adorable nose would have done the job for sure. The smell only grew more powerful as she approached the tall, confectionary building before her. She knew the chocolate-brown roof of Sugarcube Corner and the thick, creamy frosting that covered it were not real food, of course, but that didn’t stop her mouth from watering every time she laid eyes upon the bakery. She paused before the entrance for a moment, closing her eyes and savoring the sweet aroma before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

To Buttercup’s delight, she found that the air inside the shop was even warmer, cozier, and smelled even sweeter than the air outside. Now that she was there, she could make out the distinct scents of chocolate, vanilla, honey, fresh fruit, candy, and a million other sweet treats. The gentle hum of conversation drifted from the large dining room adjacent to the main entryway, where Buttercup could see a dozen or so people enjoying a mid-morning snack. Of course, her attention was mostly focused straight ahead, upon the counter at the other side of the room and the woman who stood behind it.

“Well, good morning, Buttercup!” said the woman, her face lighting up like a warm oven.

“Howdy, Cup Cake,” said Buttercup, smiling as she approached the counter.

Buttercup had known Mrs. Cup Cake since they were both little girls, and the two of them had been best friends for almost as long. The two women had much in common, including their love of food, their sweet, caring natures, and their fierce love for their families. Of course, one shared trait that others were quick to notice, but hesitant to discuss openly, was the incredibly voluptuous bodies possessed by both women.

Mrs. Cake stood a couple of inches shorter than Buttercup, but that was the only respect in which she could have been considered “smaller” than her friend. Prior to her recent pregnancy, the plump baker had possessed breasts, thighs, and a butt large enough to rival Buttercup’s own jaw-dropping assets. As she had grown heavy with child, or to be more accurate, children, so too had she grown heavier in other ways. Even months after the twins had been born, she had yet to work off all the baby weight, leaving every inch of her body soft and jiggly. While the two had never had the inclination to measure and see who truly had the most generous assets, the question was a subject of much debate amongst the men of town. Regardless of the true answer, it was widely agreed upon that Mr. Cake was the luckiest man in town. If only they knew.

That day, Mrs. Cake had squeezed herself into a light blue t-shirt and a reddish-pink skirt that matched the color of her swirly hair. A pink apron stained with flour and frosting hung around her neck, the ties stretching around her plump middle and coming together at her back. Her thick, feminine lips stretched into a smile as she walked out from behind the counter and approached Buttercup.

“How’s my favorite farm girl doing today?” she said as she held her arms wide for a hug.

“She’s doin’ just fine,” said Buttercup, wrapping her arms around Mrs. Cake and embracing her. It is fortunate that no one happened to be looking their way at that moment, as the sight of two pairs of melon-sized breasts squishing together probably would have resulted in at least one person tripping or bumping into something. “How’s my favorite baker?”

“Oh...same as always,” said Mrs. Cake as the two of them parted.

Buttercup instantly detected the weariness hidden behind her friend’s cheery demeanor. “The twins still keepin’ you on your toes?” she said.

Mrs. Cake dropped her guard for a moment and allowed herself a sigh. “Yep,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong; I love ‘em to pieces, but...they’re a handful and a half to deal with sometimes. They’re not as bad as it used to be, but Carrot and I still go to bed exhausted every night.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me,” said Buttercup, giving Mrs. Cake a comforting smile. “I know how hard the first little bit is. Granted, I never had to handle two at once, and I definitely never had to handle a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Thankfully, that part’s not so much of a problem anymore,” said Mrs. Cake. “Sure, Pumpkin still has her little magic spurts every once in a while and Pound still tries to stretch his wings when he can, but we’ve gotten a lot better at dealing with it. Having Pinkie around to help doesn’t hurt either.”

“I’ll bet,” said Buttercup. “I’m just happy to see you and Carrot haven’t let it get to you. Keepin’ your business goin’ while raisin’ two little sprouts like them takes a lot out of a person, but you’re still the cheery little baker girl I know and love. You two are stronger than folks give you credit for.”

“Well...we probably wouldn’t be doing nearly so well if we...hadn’t had help from our friends,” said Mrs. Cake. “That applesauce recipe has saved our hides more times than I can count. It’s the only thing they’ll eat without making a mess! We got you to thank for that.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Buttercup.

The calm, soothing atmosphere of the bakery was suddenly interrupted by a pair of wailing cries emanating from further within the building. Buttercup and Mrs. Cake both whipped their heads around and towards the doorway behind the counter that led to the kitchen, both mothers instinctively recognizing the cry of a needy infant.

“Uh...Mrs. Cake!” they heard Pinkie Pie call out. “I think they’re hungry!”

Mrs. Cake quickly glanced at a clock hanging on the wall nearby. “Oh, she’s right!” she said. “They need their midmorning snack. Sorry, Buttercup, I have to go take care of this.”

“You don’t mind if I come with you, do you?” said Buttercup.

“Oh, of course I don’t mind,” said Mrs. Cake. “Come on back!”

Buttercup followed behind Mrs. Cake as she walked back behind the counter and through the doorway into the kitchen. Thanks to the many ovens currently cooking up their delicious treats, the large room was so warm that it felt to Buttercup as if she were being wrapped in a thick quilt. The sweet scents drifting through the air only intensified as she gazed upon trays of cookies, cupcakes, regular cakes, and a dozen other types of sweets in various stages of preparation. The tall, wiry form of Mr. Cake was bent over a counter, carefully squeezing swirls of frosting onto the tops of cupcakes. Buttercup could never get over how different the skinny, orange-haired man looked from his short, adorably plump wife.

“Honey, can you watch the front while I take care of them?” said Mrs. Cake. “I’ll send Pinkie out here to help you.”

“You got it, sugarplum,” said Mr. Cake, not taking his eyes off the cupcake he was working on.

Mrs. Cake and Buttercup continued on through the kitchen, heading through another doorway into the residential part of the building. They arrived at the Cakes’ living room, a modest affair furnished with a couch, comfy chairs, a fireplace, and other such homey decorations. In the near corner, close enough so as to be heard from the kitchen, was a large crib decorated with animal stickers. It was from this crib that the wailing was emanating from, or more specifically, from its two occupants. The distinctively wide hips and plump bottom of Pinkie Pie were in plain view as the pink-haired girl leaned down into the crib and attempted to calm the twins.

“It’s alright, Pinkie,” said Mrs. Cake as she approached the crib and put a hand on Pinkie’s back. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Look, you two!” said Pinkie to the twins as she rose. “No need to get your diapers in a bunch. Mommy’s here to give you your milkies!”

The twins’ bawling gradually diminished as they recognized the smiling face of their mother hovering over them. Mrs. Cake leaned down into the crib and carefully scooped up the two of them in her arms, holding them to her breast as she hauled them up and out of the crib.

“Pinkie,” said Mrs. Cake, “I need you to go fetch Buttercup’s order from the back and then go help out in the kitchen, alright?”

“Righty-o, Mrs. Cake!” said Pinkie Pie, standing at attention and giving Mrs. Cake a salute before turning and bounding off towards the kitchen. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Buttercup! I’ll be back before you can say ‘super-duper strawberry surprise’!” Buttercup couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched Pinkie Pie return to the kitchen, leaving the two mothers alone.

“She should only be a moment,” said Mrs. Cake as she carried her whimpering children over to a large, comfy chair and sat down.

Buttercup glanced down at the twins with a smile, thinking to herself that the two of them looked adorable, even in their less-than-presentable state. Both of them had scruffy mops of hair on their little heads, Pound Cake’s colored a rich, chocolate brown and Pumpkin’s colored orange like her namesake. They wore diapers and soft t-shirts colored blue and pink, respectively. The most striking differences between their physical appearances were the pair of fluffy off-white wings poking through the back of Pound’s shirt and the rounded yellow horn jutting from Pumpkin’s forehead.

“Those two get bigger every time I see ‘em,” said Buttercup, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know what you mean,” chuckled Mrs. Cake. “They’re rising like little soufflés. Won’t be long before the two of them are running around the house all on their own, causing all sorts of mischief. Someday soon, they’ll be going to school, making friends, and...growing up.” The cheery expression on her face faded as she looked down at her children, softly stroking their heads.

Her change in mood did not go unnoticed by Buttercup, who immediately recognized the same look she had worn on her own face countless times before. “Hey,” Buttercup said softly, walking over to where her friend sat and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re gonna be a great mama to ‘em. I know you will.”

Mrs. Cake looked up at Buttercup, then breathed a heavy sigh. A smile returned to her face as she reached up and put a hand on Buttercup’s, squeezing it gently. “Thank you,” she said softly. The two smiled at one another for a moment before a sudden whine from the twins interrupted them. “Oh, don’t worry, sweeties; Mommy’s here. Hang on just one more moment.”

Mrs. Cake reached down and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, carefully pulling it up far enough to reveal the expanse of her chest. Her colossal, pale pink breasts were contained within a heavy-duty nursing bra with a similar load-bearing capacity as those bras that Buttercup wore. Mrs. Cake quickly detached the flaps from the massive cups and peeled them back, revealing almost the entirety of her breasts, including the thick pink nipples at their crests. Even with a sizable pair of her own, Buttercup couldn’t help but feel amazed at how much her friend’s chest had swelled since her pregnancy; each milk-filled mammary was about as massive as one of the children it was meant to feed.

Mrs. Cake carefully situated the twins so that they could comfortably lean against her while they nursed. She slowly guided each of their heads to one of her nipples, where the twins instinctively latched on and began suckling. The twins each reached out and hugged their respective breasts like body pillows, their tiny hands caressing the soft, warm flesh. Mrs. Cake sighed contentedly as they drank, looking down at them lovingly and stroking their hair.

Buttercup stood a respectful distance away, observing the wholesome moment of intimacy between the mother and her children. She had seen Mrs. Cake nurse many times before, just as Mrs. Cake had seen her nurse way back when her own children had been infants, but for some reason, watching her felt much different than it had in the past. For some reason, her arms felt strangely empty, as if they were remembering a time when they too had cradled a child in them. Her hands, too, remembered what it felt like to caress the silken skin of an infant.

Images flooded her mind as the memories of days long past came rushing back to her. The Cakes’ living room dissolved around her and was quickly replaced with that of her own home. She saw herself sitting in her chair by the fireplace, a warm quilt covering her legs. Cradled in her arms, gently suckling from one of her bare breasts, was a child no older than the twins. Buttercup couldn’t help but smile as she gazed down at the beautiful creature in her arms, the bond between mother and child warming her from the inside out.

She knew in her heart of hearts that the child was hers, but for some reason, she could not identify it. Was it Applejack? No; it lacked the yellow hair that Applejack had had even as an infant. Could it be Apple Bloom? It couldn’t be; Apple Bloom had never nursed from her so calmly. It had to be Anon, right? Not him either, she realized; Anon had been much heavier than the child she held in her arms. The situation left her puzzled to say the least. How could she possibly have a child that was not any of those three?

Her answer came in the form of a strong, masculine hand gently placed on her shoulder. Buttercup reflexively looked up at the hand, then followed the arm it was attached to until it reached a shoulder, a chest, a neck, and then a face. As she gazed upon the features of the man kneeling beside her, the man whose face she saw every day of her life, the haze of confusion cleared from her mind. Of course, she thought to herself; of course it was his. Whose else’s could it be but...

“Anon,” Buttercup whispered.

Anon smiled lovingly at her, then looked down at the baby in her arms. He slowly reached out with his other hand and softly caressed the head of her child. Their child. Her eyes remained locked on him as he looked back up at her, then slowly leaned in towards her.

“Buttercup,” he said.

“Anon,” she said.

“Buttercup,” he said in a strangely singsong voice.

“Anon,” she said, closing her eyes and puckering her lips.

“Hello! Mrs. Buttercup!” he said in a jarringly bubbly, feminine voice.

Buttercup’s eyes snapped open and she whipped her head around towards the source of the voice. Standing before her was a young woman with dark pink, poofy hair that reminded her of cotton candy.

“Pinkie Pie?” Buttercup said tentatively.

“Ding-ding-ding! You are correct!” said Pinkie in her usual, exuberant tone. “And for answering our grand prize question, you’re going home with –” Pinkie did her best impression of a drum roll using only her voice “– a super-duper yummy birthday cake! Unless, of course, you’d like to trade your cake for what’s in the mystery box.” Pinkie grinned and raised her eyebrows repeatedly.

“Pinkie,” said Mrs. Cake flatly.

“Oop, sorry,” giggled Pinkie. “Anyway, here’s your cake, Mrs. Buttercup!” Pinkie smiled widely and held out a large paper bag containing a cardboard box about the size of a cake.

Buttercup blinked rapidly as her reverie faded away and reality took its place. Once again, she found herself in Sugarcube Corner, standing in the Cakes’ living room, with both Pinkie Pie and Mrs. Cake looking at her expectantly. She blushed as she realized that she had allowed herself to become lost in a daydream, and blushed harder when she remembered what that daydream had been about.

“Um...th-thank you, Pinkie,” said Buttercup, reaching out and taking the bag.

“No problemo!” said Pinkie, seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness of the moment. With her task completed, Pinkie turned and skipped off back to the kitchen, humming merrily as she went.

Buttercup looked down at the bag in her hands, the bag that contained the birthday cake she had ordered for her son’s birthday. Feeling a pair of eyes poking holes in the side of her head, she lowered the bag and looked back at Mrs. Cake.

Mrs. Cake was still sitting in her chair, nursing her children, but was looking up at Buttercup with an expression of mild concern on her face. “You okay, dear?” she asked. “You seem a little...off.”

Buttercup cleared her throat. “Uh, yes, I’m...I’m alright,” she said, giving Mrs. Cake a forced smile.

“Okay then,” said Mrs. Cake, her tone indicating that she was not entirely convinced. “Well, would you like to have a seat and stay a little while? I could get Pinkie to bring us some muffins if you’re feeling peckish.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” said Buttercup. “I really would, but...I gotta get home soon. I got some work to do around the house, then I gotta start on Anon’s birthday dinner. Maybe next time?”

“Sure thing,” said Mrs. Cake. “You stop by any time you like.”

“Thanks,” said Buttercup.

“I’d, um...I’d walk you out, but...” began Mrs. Cake, inclining her head towards the twins.

Buttercup chuckled, then walked over to where Mrs. Cake sat. She leaned down and put an arm around her, giving her a gentle hug. Mrs. Cake returned the embrace as best she could with two hungry infants latched onto her chest.

“You take care, now,” said Mrs. Cake.

“You too,” said Buttercup as the two parted.

Buttercup stood and began walking away, giving Mrs. Cake a smile and a parting wave as she walked back into the kitchen. She passed Pinkie Pie, who had already managed to get frosting on her nose, on her way out. She re-entered the storefront and headed towards the door, saying goodbye to Mr. Cake as she passed him. When she had stepped out of the bakery once again, she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. With a smile on her face, she began the long walk home, where the three children she loved more than anything in the world awaited her.

There really was nothing like the orchard at springtime, I thought to myself. The tall trees had finally woken from their winter slumber and had grown new coats of fresh, green leaves. Scattered amongst the green was the soft pink of flowers, which filled the air with their sweet scent. In the coming months, that sweet scent would turn to a sweet taste as the buds slowly transformed into the delicious, red fruit that gave our orchard its name. But until that time came, I would have to content myself with merely watching and waiting. Luckily, I had a welcome distraction in store for me in the near future.

It had been a whole year since my last birthday, and yet I didn’t feel any older. As a matter of fact, it didn’t really feel like an entire year had passed at all. Despite all the ups and downs I had been through, despite all the changes that had occurred in my life, I still felt as if the time had passed in the blink of an eye. I suppose the old saying really is true: time does fly when you’re having fun, and I had been having more than my fair share of fun recently. Not only that, but I got the feeling I would be having quite a bit of fun very soon as well.

I had stayed out all day, having been granted leave from my chores in the name of the occasion. I had spent most of the day out enjoying the weather with my friends, welcoming both their company and the warm sun. I knew that my family would be busy preparing the birthday party they always insisted on throwing for me, so I made sure to give them their space. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, however, I knew the time had come for me to head home and enjoy the company of the people I loved more than anyone.

I wasn’t very far away; peering through the trees around me, I could see the familiar red farmhouse in the distance. My lips stretched into a smile as I imagined what might be awaiting me there. Buttercup would have prepared a huge dinner consisting of all my favorite foods, as she always did for my sisters and I. No doubt they would have gotten a birthday cake from Sugarcube Corner as well, the Cakes being the undisputed best bakers in town. And when all the food had been eaten and all the presents had been given, my mother, my sisters, and I would almost assuredly get together and have our own little private afterparty. My feet quickened as my head filled with thoughts of what my future had in store for me, my future together with the three most beautiful, most wonderful, most precious people to me in all the world. No matter how I looked at it, my future was looking bright indeed.