Pinkie Pie, party pony, pregnant, per previous prurience producing present progeny, presently pranced, poring through the kitchen of Sugar Cube Corner in search of particular ingredients for a particular snack she was wanting. Were the ingredients sentient, they would’ve feared the pink little muzzle shuffling through the shelves, sniffing out the final ingredient for her chocolate cupcakes soon to be fresh from the oven. The clear jar of candied cherries could do nothing as the muzzle singled it out, and the eye attached to the rest of the hungry pony glanced at it to verify, for the muzzle to then return and begin nudging it. The tongue left the muzzle and started sliding along the jar, until it reached an irregularity it focussed on; soon, the protrusion of the jar was facing the pink muzzle, which rotated to bite down on it, this being the sole purpose of the irregularity on the otherwise smooth glass surface.
Like a hungry timberwolf with prey in its mouth or, more lovingly, like a pony gently carrying her foal by the scruff, she carried the jar to set it on the counter. Just then, as it had been doing, and would do many more times today, her tummy rumbled, and the noise disturbed the even smaller pony arguably closer to it. Pinkie’s progeny pointedly poked outwards, stealing away her attention. Pinkie was fairly certain her foal just didn’t like getting woken up, but she liked trying to ascribe meaning to the foal’s movements, treating it like another Pinkie sense, especially because having a foal filling her belly interfered with the Pinkie senses she once could divine from her barrel. Having a sore tummy used to mean the pegasi were going to make the weather lighter than they should’ve, or that she’d eaten too much candy; now it was completely unreliable for telling what the pegasi were up to, just meaning the foal was resting inside in a way that didn’t feel good, or that she’d eaten too much candy.
She let her hindlegs slide underneath her, landing on her cushioned rump, wincing a little at how her belly shifted before settling out more in front of her again. She felt it coming, and saw when it did, the outline of a little hoofprint briefly appeared near where her left foreleg was hovering. “Oh, you just wanted to play patty-cake did you, Wackestone. You should’ve just said so!” She gently pressed the hoof under her control in where the little hoof that wasn’t had been, moving it back and forth a little when she felt the pony who did control it, underneath all of the padding and other things. She passed the time remaining for her baking cupcakes this way, bothering her captive playmate. She giggled at this, until she felt a stronger kick that wasn’t visible, and winced; a hoofprint on her taut skin quickly receded, but a hoofprint on her intestines may take a while.
She should probably stand up again, but this was easier to think than say, and easier to say than do. She tried leaning forwards, but crushing her midsection was uncomfortable, for both ponies involved, and the little let the larger know it, so she put a hoof to her chin while she thought about how to valiantly rise above her present predicament, her current crisis, the crisis of a pink, pregnant pony baking cupcakes who was having issues standing up, on Hearth’s Warming Day. She could call for help, and it would be fine if Mrs. Cake came, but if it were Mr. Cake or her hubby, they may later joke at her expense and, while it would probably be funny, she’d been so good about making most of the jokes about her pregnancy herself, and didn’t want to allow them an easy victory.
Her eyes lit up when she found her solution. Curling her body up just a little, as she had done before, she lay flat on her back. She could see just the tips of her hindhooves over the pink mound jutting out of her. Then, no differently than if she needed to sweep the kitchen and couldn’t find a broom, she wiggled her body back and forth across the floor, but this time her goal was moving the more modest distance towards the island counter nearby. Her center of balance had shifted a few hoofs up and out from beforehoof, back when her barrel was flat, but she’d had plenty of practice by this late stage.
Her hips and shoulders twisted, and she giggled yet more in watching her belly sway back and forth, being careful to avoid falling over. Once she’d made herself perpendicular with the counter, she managed to gyrate her hindquarters upwards with it. In less than a minute, her body was upside-down and vertical, with her forelegs curled up with her head, and her large, pink womb filled her vision; it felt so weird for it to be hanging off her in this way. She was accustomed to feeling her foal curled up in her really any way but this, until now; it pressed deeper at her lungs than it normally did, and the act stretched parts of her she hadn’t stretched in months. Anypony who were to look just over the counter would be seeing a plump, pink posterior bizarrely exposed by the tail bunched between it and the counter. She lately wasn’t so flexible, so she gave her belly a kiss before bouncing her rump from the counter, landing her hindhooves on the wood floor, and finally recovering her standing position. The little one protested, but all of the twisting and turning, along with gravity, led the kicks outwards, which she didn’t much mind in comparison. Carrying Earth pony foals usually led to bruises, from their hard kicking, but she didn’t want to add a broken rib to that. “I love doing things the easy way.”
She was ecstatic when the little mechanical timer she’d set rang at her, and less ecstatic with how, after taking a cloth holder in her mouth to extract them and set them on the counter, she still needed to wait for them to cool. Worse, she couldn’t even sit down to stare longingly at the pan, face shaped into a silent plea for the spirits of pastries to cool them even just a little more quickly. In an effort to relieve her hooves of some weight, she locked her legs and leaned her rear against the opposite counter. In shuffling to get more comfortable, she noticed she was getting a little too comfortable, and begrudgingly removed her behind before she would need to wipe the counter down.
Surely, there were something she could do whilst waiting for chocolate cupcakes. She brought a hoof to play with her lip while she thought, the other three planted firmly, allowing her to lean back and forth unconsciously. The pendulum that was Pinkie’s burden swayed back and forth in her thought, until it became enough to throw her off balance, and the fourth hoof left her face for the floor to steady herself. “Good thinking, baby, I’ll go check my Hearth’s Warming list!”
Standing at the beginnings of the staircase, she thought about the most fun way to get up them. If she could think of a really fun way to get up them, it would more than offset the discomfort and struggles, but if she could only think of a mildly fun way to do it, it would be about even, and what was the point in walking up stairs if it were just going to be normal? She was too heavy for balloons, at least considering how few she’d be able to fit inside the staircase, and hopping that high was out of the question, but maybe not when coming back down. Sighing, she resigned herself to normally walking up the stairs; carrying just one, and widely instead of lowly, had spared her belly’s bottom from scraping the steps for most of her pregnancy, but she found she needed to suck it in just a little to avoid it now. After traversing a few steps, she was becoming lightheaded, and not in a fun way, so she had to take a break to breathe, letting her belly droop back down to slightly scrape the step she was straddling. This pattern continued until she reached the second floor; then she entered her room, stopping in front of her toy chest.
She set her nose underneath the latch and nudged it open. It looked like an ordinary toy chest, because it was, but she’d cleverly hidden her Hearth’s Warming gift-giving list in a colouring book. Even more cleverly, she’d only included names, so noponies who went around snooping could tell what she’d gotten for them. She’d checked it once before, but she really should check it twice.
It was just a list of a few dozen names, all with lines drawn through them, and at the bottom was a stain, which she licked away to discover as blueberry jam. The joy of that jam was smeared away when she noticed the name underneath it, with nary a single line indicating a gift had been found for it.
“Pinkie, is that you? I was just about to take a bath before the party.” That was her husband, and her shoulder was achy, so that meant Gummy was in the bathtub with him. She couldn’t let him know she’d forgotten to get him a gift. “Yeppers! I’m just digging around in my toy chest is all!” The door opened and he poked his head out, Gummy with a firm bite on his neck. She barely hid the list on the other side of her swell in time, heart racing and flashing him a grin.
He grinned at her. “Pretty soon it will be Wackestone’s too, huh? I-I’m really looking forward to holding him, and having his first Hearth’s Warming.” He glanced down at her belly. “Well, the first Hearth’s Warming when he’s his own pony, anyway.”
He asked if she wanted to take a bath with him, amongst other activities, and her mind scrambled for a reason to decline, even though that seemed super duper sexy and nice, since they’d be clean and nopony would even know they’d done it just before the party because the smell wouldn’t be there, although it was clear they’d done it at least once with her baby bump hanging off her, and she still needed to think of a reason why, and now she remembered she was hungry, and then it hit her. Those cupcakes were cooled by now! He didn’t mind her refusal at all, taking Gummy still attached to his neck with him.
She exhaled when the door closed, and ate the list before anypony would see it. It was thin parchment paper, but it usually tasted better when she accidentally ate it with whatever it had been wrapping. It sat in a lump in her tummy, and she apologized to her foal for ensuring part of his little body was going to be made out of paper and ink. Well, she’d read eating ink in late pregnancy could help with writing cutie-marks later in life, so it wasn’t all bad. “If you have to have a writing cutie-mark, Wackestone, try to make it a joke-writing cutie-mark, okay?”
She grabbed a scarf to wrap around herself, and a bit bag necklace to wear, before leaving. Now at the top of the staircase, she had gravity on her side, and would have no trouble making her way down fun. She was carrying her foal wide, and that made it easier to bunch her hooves together. She bit her tongue in concentration, sucked her gut in, arched her back as much as she could, and hopped. She cleared four or five steps when she landed, momentum having her immediately jump again, and she cried out in excitement at the third jump; she cleared the final steps, spreading her legs, and skidded to a stop in front of Mrs. Cake.
“Pinkie Pie, you should know better!” She brought a hoof to her chest to calm herself. “Don’t worry Mrs. Cake, I made super duper sure I’d land on my face if anything went wrong!” When she realized that didn’t make Mrs. Cake think her any less irresponsible, she added, “I’m not carrying twins like you were, and since it’s a colt, I’m poking out far and wide, not low, so it was fine.” She recalled that old Mare’s rhyme: If the foal is in line with her spine, it’s probably a filly, and if wide with her womb, likely a colt. She added, now talking to herself, “A little colt, just like your daddy.”
“Still, you shouldn’t be doing that any more. I’d hate for there to be any accidents, especially today. Promise me you won’t do any more bouncing around like that until after the foal is born; Pinkie Pie promise me.” Pinkie sat down to give her Pinkie Promise routine, ending as it always did with her mimicking a cupcake in her eye; she wanted cupcakes in her belly. Mrs. Cake bent down to let her rest her forehooves on her back, and slowly lifted to help her stand again.
“Pinkie, I just noticed you look even wider than earlier today. That doesn’t usually happen unless the foal is a pegasus.” Pinkie answered as she was still leaning across her back. “Yeah, I know! Usually, you’d think I had a pegasus stretching her wings out in me to be this wide; then again, I think I have some pegasus ancestry.” Cup Cake remembered her own pregnancy fondly. “Why, I remember some days little Pound Cake stretched his wingspan out and made me a good hoof or two wider at times. Is it possible Wackestone’s a pegasus?” Pinkie didn’t think that was likely, but they’d just need to wait and see. Now she’d been waiting long enough, and she left Cup Cake to eat her cupcakes.
After gently setting a cherry on top of each cupcake, and then tilting the pan back so they slid into her mouth, she was ready to do her no-time-like-the-present-because-the-future-is-too-late shopping.
Stepping into the sharp, winter air, she shivered mightily as snow already fell on her coat, with the tiniest beginnings of frost forming on the hairs’ ends. She saw Twilight Sparkle wearing boots, a saddle, ear muffs, a scarf, and more to weather the harsh weather, and waved at her, getting her attention by yelling across the street. “Mare, it’s so cold, you could think the Windigos had returned to finish us off, huh?”
She saw Twilight gasp at her before running over. “Pinkie Pie, what are you doing wearing just a scarf in this cold!?”
“Well, Rarity had me model some maternity saddles for her a few times, but I just don’t like the way they look; they sit on top much wider than normal saddles, and they were itchy, oh but I shouldn’t keep yammering on. Relax Twi, I have plenty of fur and my belly’s its own miniature oven.” Pinkie Pie proudly pointed at her burden of a belly. There was no snow or frost, but some water. There may have even been some steam coming from her heavy womb when met by the cold air. “Besides, I’m just going shopping for one last thing, and then I’m back at the Cakes’ for our Hearth’s Warming party. By the by, are you coming over for it? Rarity and Sweetie Belle will be there, but we could always use another unicorn; it’s just not a proper Hearth’s Warming if we don’t have plenty of each tribe.”
Twilight looked away. “Actually, I was thinking about riding the train and visiting my family in Canterlot.” When she did look back, she was giving a nervous grin.
“That’s just not right, Twilight. Celebrating Hearth’s Warming with just your family, instead of the ponies you live around, is exactly the kind of thing that ponies would’ve done before unification. For shame, Twilight.” She plopped down to waggle both forehooves at Twilight, a greater gesture of distaste due to requiring both forelegs, but then she blew a raspberry and started laughing, revealing it as farce. All of this happened in the few seconds it took for her to realize she was sitting in snow, without even her tail to cushion her marely anatomy, and with no easy way to get back up on her own. “Help me up, Twilight! It’s cold!”
The Ponyville market was still quite active, with several ponies making merry at their stands along with their customers. There was cider, which smelled super duper good but she totally shouldn’t drink until after the foal was born and weaned, but there was also the much stronger and more omnipresent scent of the freshly-cooked foods, roasted nuts, baked pies and tarts, and simmering soups, with steam rising from them as they sat in the open.
Her mouth watered, and those cupcakes from earlier didn’t stop her tummy from rumbling. What was she out and about again for?
She went to the stands, spending her bits to get a feed bag of roasted grain, a bladder of sweet pepper soup, a wooden box of gingerbread mare cookies, and more. She didn’t realize she’d spent her final bits until she met an empty bag when trying to pay for her last purchase, but the stallion running the shop didn’t mind, and told her to take it anyway, and to have a happy Hearth’s Warming.
She felt a pit formed in her stomach, and it wasn’t the foal nor the parchment paper. She wondered if this were going to be her first unhappy Hearth’s Warming.
She sulked on her way to returning, laden with food, looking more glum than an Earth pony frozen to death by a Windigo; well, not that glum, but still pretty glum at having let him down. Most heads turned when she passed the doors into the dining area. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were there, setting sweets on a table; she saw Rarity at a booth talking animatedly with Big Mac, probably giving him sewing advice, considering he was half-way finished knitting what looked like a scarf; Fluttershy was filling a plate for Angel Bunny, who looked angry; and, before she finished scanning the room, she saw him. Her husband was standing there watching the Cutie-Mark Crusaders play with Gummy. The food she’d purchased weighed more heavily on her, as she realized she’d failed him, and it brought some tears to her eyes.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” He walked up to her and gently set the food at the ground before giving her a hug. Several of the others were now staring. “It’s okay everypony, I just think the holiday has stressed her a bit too much.” He led her to the kitchen, where they could speak privately, and she started quietly sobbing.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. Please, tell me what’s wrong.” She met his eyes, and told him, “I-I went to the market to get a gift, because I forgot, but all I did was buy food for myself! I’m a horrible Piggy Pie.”
“That’s all? Pinkie Pie, my beautiful wife, you and our foal are the only gifts I’ll ever need. Nopony would blame you for being hungry, and I’m glad you got some food instead of a gift for me.” Pinkie Pie steadied her breathing before responding.
“It wasn’t for you. I-I forgot to get Gummy a Hearth’s Warming present.” She spoke quietly, not wanting the others to overhear. Now, he loved Gummy as well, but he couldn’t help but feel a little silly at learning this.
“A-And what if because of that, Gummy gets sad, and then everypony else gets sad, and it snowballs until the Windigos come back, and it’s all my fault!” Her lip was quivering. “What if next year I forget to get anything for our foal?”
She was being ridiculous, and not in her usual way. He knew how to get her out of this rut. “But Sweetie, you did get him a gift.” She looked up to face him again. “I did?”
“Of course, just look at how the other ponies like the food you brought. I’m sure Gummy will love some of it, especially if it comes from you.” Pinkie saw the food she’d brought had been set at the table with the rest. She saw Gummy, clearly trying his darnedest not to cry in front of everypony, staring at a wall in the corner, unmoving; he was waiting for her, she knew. She wiped her eyes on the back of her leg and steadied her breathing before they re-entered the dining area.
“Hey Gummy, let me show you your present.” She leaned down to pick him up, but he latched onto her mane before she did anything else, and she took him to the table. “Alright Gummy, I brought a lot of yummy food, and you get to pick whatever you want.” Gummy didn’t move, sans the gentle turning from his hanging on.
She scooted a bowl of nuts near the edge, and sat down so she could take it with both forehooves. Gummy had let go of her mane, landing on her swell with a slap. She set the nuts next to him and brought her forelegs away, looking down and wondering if he would accept her gift; maybe he knew she’d forgotten, since he had a way with these things. But no, he eventually stepped over and dove his head in, and she heard little munching sounds, to her relief.
There would be plenty of fun, gift-giving, chatting, and enjoying the holiday, but this story ends when she spoke: “It’s the night of Hearth’s Warming, and now all good night!”
Copyright 2020,2022 Kassaz
Verbatim copying and redistribution of this document is permitted.
Bonus Story: The Night Before Due Date
‘Twas the night before due date, and all through the bed,
The new foal wasn’t stirring, not even his head;
His clothing was selected, arranged with great care,
In hopes that he who would fill them soon would be there.
The new foal was nestled snug and warm in the womb,
So close, but not yet, to having run out of room;
And Bundle Joy warm, covered up to her shoulder,
Dreamed of stallions to breed her, stallions to hold her.
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
She didn’t much care to see what was the matter.
But now awake she realized she needed to pee,
So out of bed she then waddled, angry, to see.
Luna’s moon was bright, white, matching the fallen snow,
Reflecting sister’s sun, to night ponies, to show,
Seeing, what to her now bloodshot eyes should appear,
A pegasus stallion, with a bottle of beer.
She yelled: “Get off of my roof, and get out of here,
I’ll be foaling soon, and so my resting is dear.”
He, clearly inebriated, thought himself slick,
As he flew down from the roof, landing with a trick.
What was going through his mind, she didn’t quite know.
He said he had presents, lifting hindleg to show.
He was dressed in fur, of course, and his balls were large.
He reeked of his drinking, which was clearly in charge.
His eyes somehow twinkled, in spite of the liquor,
He drunkenly stepped forward, now trying to lick her!
He asked, next time, could he put foal in her belly,
He loved her laughter, belly jiggling like jelly.
He drank too much at a party, having some fun,
And decided to tell her that she was the one!
He thought her whole body was cute, belly and all,
So he came here to ask this, feeling so, so small.
Sour face softened, and this was not in the least,
As she felt proud, controlling stallion like dumb beast.
She told him how, as of now, his chances were slim,
She may be near due, but hard she could still kick him.
He apologized and left, following moon’s glow.
Tired, she relieved herself, urinating in snow.
She yelled, now that the stallion was well out of sight:
“It’s the night before due date, and now all good night!”
