Thrills and Sofas

by Starswirl the Beardless

Rating: mature
Tags: Porn, Sex, Scootaloo, Slice of Life, Sweetie Belle, Anthro, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fetish, Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Other
Length: 18667

Davenport comes up with an interesting new way to boost sales at Quills and Sofas.

Davenport loves sofas (and to a lesser extent, quills). Why else would he have opened Quills and Sofas, Ponyville's first (and only) combined office supplies and furniture shop? Unfortunately, the citizens of Ponyville have not shown as much enthuisiasm for his beautiful sofas as he had hoped, and now finds his unusual business in a bit of a slump. In an effort to turn things around, he devises a new, unconventional sales strategy, and employs the Cutie Mark Crusaders to help him see it through. Lucky for him, the Crusaders are willing to do whatever it takes to put a smile back on their beloved boss's face.

Tags: Anthro, Male x Female, Female x Female, (MFFF) Foursome, Maledom/Femsub, Age Difference (Older Male/Younger Female), Pseudo-Prostitution, Vaginal Sex, Doggystyle Position, Belly Bulge, Creampie

All characters depicted in this story are at least eighteen years old

Featured 11/10/23 - 11/11/23

Published 2023-11-10 16:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-11-10 16:50:01 UTC

The Sofa Salesmares

Davenport was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Bored. B-O-R-E-D. Not "board" like the pieces of wood that formed the counter he rested his head upon, and not like the chest of the spunky pegasus mare with the rainbow mane, but "bored" as in "I wish that crazy Discord guy would come and destroy the town again, because even that would be better than this!"

As he sat there behind the counter at the back of his humble shop, contemplating his mind-numbing boredom, Davenport grumbled with the sort of soul-crushing aggravation that only those employed in retail will ever be unfortunate enough to experience. He rotated his head slightly, allowing him to cast a half-lidded gaze over his showroom, which was filled from wall to wall with the prettiest little sofas you ever did see. There were big sofas and small sofas. There were soft sofas and firm sofas. There were sofas chic and modern enough to have been featured in the fanciest of furniture catalogs, and there were sofas of the sort you might find in your great-grandmother's sitting room. There were sofas of every color, shape, and make imaginable present in that shop, which was only fitting for an establishment that bore the name "Quills and Sofas".

Davenport's eyes wandered across the sea of upholstery before him over to the far wall, where the other half of his shop's name could be found. Arranged along that wall were shelves upon shelves of fine feather quills, accompanied by the lovely displays he had painstakingly arranged in order to highlight the quality of his wares. Truthfully, such displays were probably a waste of effort, given that they were presenting no more than mere office supplies, but Davenport took great pride in his shop, and would not have settled for anything less; plus, he had a lot of free time on his hands.

A heavy sigh passed Davenport's lips as his eyes wandered back, lazily taking in the quills, the sofas, and the complete and utter lack of customers in his shop. So mockingly empty was the shop, in fact, that he would not have been surprised to see a tumbleweed rolling its way between the sofas, despite the inexplicable nature of such an occurrence. At least that would have been something, he thought to himself, something to distract him from the painful boredom he was forced to endure. As it was, his only companions as he sat at his post were the peaceful silence of the showroom and the pleasant warmth of the air that caressed his skin as his eyes slowly fell closed.

Ding-a-ling!

Davenport's eyes shot open as he heard the sound of the shop's door being opened, and the familiar jingle of the bell attached to it. Instinctively, he leapt to his feet, moving so quickly that he knocked over his poor chair by accident. He stood tall and proud behind the counter, puffing out his chest and smiling his best salesstallion's smile as he looked to the door.

"Welcome to Quills and Sofas!" Davenport said warmly. "Could I interest you in one of our many fine..."

Davenport fell silent as he looked upon the familiar lanky form and dopey grin of the teenager who had just entered his shop.

"Oh," said Davenport, trying to hide his profound disappointment. "Hello, Snails."

If Snails sensed Davenport's feelings, he gave no sign of it, his happy-go-lucky expression not faltering as he meandered his way into the shop.

"Hey, Davenport," said Snails in his usual wonky drawl. "You got any new quills?"

Davenport grumbled inwardly as he directed Snails to quill section of the shop, and to the new quills he had gotten in the day before.

"Cool," said Snails as he turned and made his way across the shop.

Davenport sighed as he righted his chair and sat down behind the counter once again.

Quills. Always the quills.

While Davenport would never have complained about customers being interested in his wares, he would have greatly preferred that those who visited his shop take an interest in the full breadth of his inventory. On those infrequent occasions that somepony did pay him a visit, they would almost invariably walk right past his sofas to the quills, not even giving his lovely furniture a second glance. He struggled to remember the last time he had actually managed to sell one of his sofas; had it been weeks or months? He was fortunate that his quill sales were able to pick up the slack, Princess Twilight's frequent orders almost single-handedly keeping his business afloat. While he took pride in the role he played in keeping the citizens of Ponyville well-supplied with writing implements, he couldn't help but feel a bit miffed at the lack of attention those same ponies paid to his other wares.

As Davenport drummed his fingers on the counter before him, he couldn't help but recall the words of his cousin when he had told him about his plans to open his little quill-and-sofa shop years earlier. His cousin had practically laughed in his face when he had heard of Davenport's intentions. According to his cousin, it was ridiculous to open such a store in such a small town as Ponyville, for how often would the ponies of such a town be in the market for a brand-new sofa? Davenport's sofas would sit around gathering dust, his cousin had said, and the quills probably wouldn't fare much better.

At the time, Davenport had passionately defended his shop, saying that there would always be a market for such beautiful sofas as his, a belief that had initially seemed justified. In the first few months after he had opened his doors, he had sold scores of sofas to the good people of Ponyville, all of whom had seemed delighted with their purchases. As time passed, however, and his sales had slowly dwindled, he had been forced to recognize the truth in his cousin's words. There were, after all, only so many sofas that a little town like Ponyville really needed, and the excellent craftsmanship of those he did sell ensured that they would serve their owners for many, many years, eliminating the need for frequent replacement.

Davenport sighed as he was forced to recognize his cousin's superior business sense. After all, Davenport was the one sitting in a nearly-empty shop with only a single customer, a customer who would probably not even buy anything, based on past experience. Meanwhile, his cousin had gone into restaurant management, and had been so successful in his ventures that he now owned an entire chain of eateries, with locations in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Baltimare. He had borne witness to his cousin's success a few months earlier, when he had gone to pay him a visit, and had seen firsthand how popular his establishments were. It had puzzled him, and still did puzzle him, how his cousin's restaurants fared so well in the big city, where there were restaurants aplenty. When he had suggested that the city ponies must really like his restaurants' food, his cousin had chuckled, and had given him a cryptic piece of business advice.

"It's not about what you're selling, Dav, it's about how you're selling it."

His cousin's words echoed throughout Davenport's head, making little more sense to him than they had months earlier. He had already tried changing up his sales tactics many times before, with little success. He had offered discounts, and promotions, and had big blowout sales to entice potential sofa-buyers to his shop, but none of his various attempts had ever gotten him the sales figures he desired, not even close. If there was some other solution, some secret that would revitalize his languishing business, then it continued to elude him.

Davenport's eyes wandered over to one of the nearby sofas, a lovely little piece with plush cushions as soft as a cloud, and off-white fabric as smooth as a baby's bottom, just the sort of thing for relaxing after a long day's work, or for snuggling up with one's special somepony. He adored that little sofa, he thought with a smile, just as he adored his other sofas, each one beautiful in their own special way. For the life of him, he couldn't think of anything he could do to make such lovely furniture even more appealing to customers. After all, what in Equestria could possibly draw ponies' attention more effectively than a beautiful sofa?

It was at that moment, as Davenport sat there behind the counter, that he detected a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye. He reflexively turned his gaze towards it, looking across the showroom to the large windows at the front of his shop. The windows were tall and long enough to have allowed a whole gaggle of potential customers to gaze in at the shop, although it had been a long time indeed since the shop had drawn such a crowd. Despite only rarely being used for looking in, those windows were just as helpful for looking out, and so provided Davenport an excellent view of the ponies currently walking past his shop.

Davenport recognized them at once, those three young mares, having spent years watching them gallivant about town on their various adventures, as had the rest of Ponyville. While the three had long ago earned the cutie marks they had once so desperately sought, that had not put a stop to their activities; if anything, it had spurred them on. Having discovered their place in the world, the Cutie Mark Crusaders now spent their days helping others to do the same, selflessly supporting anypony whose cutie marks, or lack thereof, caused them confusion or grief. Their years of altruism had earned the three the love and respect of the community many times over, Davenport included. It continued to amaze him that the three energetic little fillies he had once known had grown into such competent, intelligent, and mature young mares.

Of course, as Davenport watched the three stroll past his windows, chatting and giggling amongst themselves, he could not help but notice how much the three had matured physically, in addition to the other ways they had changed over the years. Gone were the twiggy limbs and childish bodies they had once boasted, replaced with the sort of alluring, nubile forms that could have drawn the attention of any stallion. Even Davenport, not usually the sort to ogle mares openly, couldn't help but take in their plentiful curves and their beautiful, smiling faces as they passed by. He knew he really shouldn't have; despite the three teens now being of age, it still felt profoundly lecherous to look at them as mares, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. In fact, he doubted any stallion could resist giving those three their full and complete attention.

Davenport's eyes went wide as the metaphorical light bulb went on above his head. He swiveled his head, looking back at all of his lovely, yet unappreciated sofas, then back at the three lovely fillies outside his shop, then back again. His cousin's advice popped into his mind once more, the words now imbued with new meaning.

It's not about what you're selling, it's how you're selling it.

Suddenly, Davenport realized why so many of the servers at his cousin's restaurants were young, attractive mares, and why they all wore such revealing uniforms. He also realized that his cousin might not have been as fond of owls as he had previously thought.

Davenport looked back to the window just in time to see the three fillies walking past the shop and out of sight. A sly smile appeared on his lips as he quickly rose from his seat, walked around the counter, and made his way towards the front door. The jingle of the bell sounded out as he stepped out of the shop in pursuit of his future employees.

A wide, warm grin was stretched across Big Mac's face as he moseyed his way down the streets of Ponyville. This was unsurprising, for it was definitely a day worth grinning at. The sun was hanging high overhead amidst a clear, blue sky, its gentle light shining down on him and warming his skin and his worn overalls like a blanket. The old, wooden hand cart he pulled behind him was empty, Big Mac having finally finished his last apple delivery of the day, leaving him free to head home and get some much-needed rest. Little children filled the air with their giggles as they ran and played in the streets, and older ponies smiled and greeted him as they passed each other.

It was as he was walking along, taking in the sights and sounds of that peaceful afternoon, that he happened to glance down a side road towards the aptly named "Quills and Sofas" shop. Normally, he would not have given the shop a second glance, Big Mac rarely being in the market for either new quills or a new sofa, but on that occasion, something about the shop caught his eye. He couldn't be sure, as he was a good distance away, but it seemed as if there was a crowd of ponies inside the normally empty shop, and quite a substantial one at that. His curiosity piqued, and having no other important work to attend to, Big Mac slowly altered course, making his way down the road towards the shop in question.

As he drew nearer, he was able to glance through the shop's large front windows and see that there was indeed an impressive number of customers in the shop, dozens of ponies crowded around the sofas within. Big Mac chuckled and shook his head in disbelief at the apparent popularity of Davenport's unusual establishment. When his little sister had told him recently that she and her friends had all gotten part-time jobs as salesmares at the shop, he had been quite skeptical of their prospects. It wasn't that he had anything against Davenport or his shop, of course, but even a humble farmhand such as him could recognize that the shop was on its last legs, not at all the sort of business venture that three promising young mares should be wasting their time supporting. Big Mac couldn't ignore his own eyes, however, and realized that it may have been him who had been in the wrong, and that his sister might have a promising career in retail ahead of her.

Eventually, Big Mac stepped up to the front of the shop, parking his cart on the street before it. He peered through the windows, leaning his head to and fro in an effort to pick out his sister from amongst the crowd, but failed to spot her or her friends. He decided to make his way into the shop in order to seek out his sister and Davenport and congratulate them on the success of the business, even if it meant having to endure a bit of I-told-you-so-ing from the sassy young mare. Chuckling at the thought of his impending humbling, Big Mac stepped away from his cart and made his way to the front door, which jingled as he passed through it.

The first thing Big Mac noticed as he stepped into the shop was the unusual atmosphere of the place, not at all the sort he would have expected of a bustling storefront full of customers. The place was dimly lit, the sunlight that streamed through the windows supplemented only by a large number of candles that had been strategically placed throughout the shop, bathing the showroom in a warm, soothing light. As he detected a subtle floral aroma wafting through the air, Big Mac realized that many of those candles must have been scented, further accentuating the calm serenity of the shop. The ponies that filled the shop appeared to be respecting the tranquility, either intentionally or otherwise, as most of them did not speak, and those that did spoke only in soft murmurs or whispers.

Big Mac raised an eyebrow as he took in this unusual sight, poring over the showroom and the ponies before him. He recognized many of the stallions in the crowd, friends and acquaintances whom he knew from around town. While he was familiar with those faces, the expressions of intense interest he saw upon them confused him, as he knew most of those stallions to be the sort that would not have gone furniture shopping unless forced to by their wives or marefriends. He scanned the crowd, seeing if he could pick out their respective special someponies, but could not spy a single one. It soon dawned on him that, not only were there no marefriends to be seen, but that there were no mares period, every single pony in the crowd being of the male persuasion. If that wasn't confusing enough, Big Mac further realized that the crowd was clustered around three of the showroom's many sofas in particular, although the stallions were bunched together so closely around those sofas, staring down at them, that he could not even see them.

Big Mac's rising confusion at the bizarre scenario he had wandered into soon got the better of him, and he slowly advanced towards the nearest cluster of stallions, determined to figure out just what had gotten them all so interested in Davenport's sofas. Big Mac, true to his name, was a physically impressive stallion, standing inches taller than most of those in the crowd, but even he was unable to peer over their heads to get a good look at what all of their eyes seemed to be glued to. Undeterred, he attempted to squeeze his large, muscular frame through the densely packed bodies before him, whispering a great many "excuse mes" as he worked his way towards the center.

"She's a real beut', ain't she?" Big Mac heard one stallion whisper.

"I'll say!" whispered another. "Just look at the size of those cushions!"

"Sweet Celestia, I just want to rub my face all over 'em!" whispered yet another stallion.

Big Mac's confusion only increased as he heard the crowd's commentary. He had never realized that the stallions of Ponyville had such an intense, and very odd interest in sofas. When he finally managed to push his way through to the center of the clustered stallions and gaze down at the subject of their attention, however, his confusion increased exponentially.

At the center of the crowd sat an elegant chaise lounge, long, high-backed, and with an unabashed elegance to its design. Luxurious fabric of royal purple coloration was stretched over a frame whose gentle slopes and curves evoked feelings of tenderness, delicacy, even intimacy. It was undoubtedly a fine piece of furniture, one Big Mac thought would not look out of place in the home of a wealthy or noble pony, yet he realized at once that it was not that sofa that the stallions around him were gawking at.

A coat as pure white as the driven snow was stretched over the picturesque hourglass figure of the filly who lay upon that sofa. Her long, curvaceous legs led down to a pair of petite, pedicured feet, and up to a pair of plush thighs and a set of wide hips. Her tiny waist and soft belly led up to a chest that boasted a prodigious pair of plump, perky breasts, the immense curvatures of which were only partially concealed by the lacy cups of the light pink babydoll she wore. That salacious sleepwear featured a skirt that stretched down to her mid-thigh, the translucent fabric of which afforded an almost unimpeded view of her nubile body, and of the soft pink panties decorated with little white bows that she wore. Her slender, feminine arms, one draped across her belly and one resting aside her head, were bare, as were her shoulders, save for the thin straps that held her nightgown in place. Long tresses of swirly, pink-and-purple hair, the same colors as her lovely tail, framed her head, which rested upon a plush pillow. A rounded, spiraling horn protruded from her forehead, its elegant shape complementing her ladylike image. Her beautiful features were relaxed, her long-lashed eyes closed and her full lips smiling softly, as if she were lost deep in serene sleep.

"Sweetie Belle?" said Big Mac in disbelief.

Slowly, the filly that lay upon the sofa opened her big, green eyes, which quickly zeroed in on him.

"Oh! Hey, Big Mac," said Sweetie Belle, smiling sweetly.

The sight of his little sister's childhood friend in such a scandalous state left Big Mac at a loss for words; granted, he had never been the most talkative of ponies, even under normal circumstances.

"You...Wha...How..." he stammered, struggling to process the swirling torrent of emotions he was feeling.

"Could I interest you in a...sofa?" said Sweetie Belle, sweeping a hand along the length of the chaise, drawing the eyes of the crowd to its soft curves, and to her own.

Big Mac's brain was sputtering and spurting within his head, his mental state not helped by the sultry gaze Sweetie Belle was sending his way. He clamped his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and forced himself to speak properly. "What in Equestria is goin' on here?" he said sternly, opening his eyes once more.

Sweetie Belle giggled at the effect her little display was having on the big, handsome stallion looming over her. "What does it look like?" she said. "I'm modeling this sofa."

"Apple Bloom, she...she told me you three were sellin' these sofas!" said Big Mac.

"We are selling them," said Sweetie Belle. "Why, I've sold three just today." She raised a dainty hand to her lips and closed her eyes as she let out an adorable little yawn. "Sales is such a tiring line of work."

"And this is how y'all have been sellin' 'em," asked Big Mac, anger creeping into his voice, "by...by...?" Being the noble stallion that he was, he struggled to describe the provocative display he was witnessing, growing visibly flustered in the attempt.

"Of course!" said Sweetie Belle, batting her eyelashes. "There's no better way to sell something than a live demonstration."

As she finished, Sweetie Belle slowly brought her arms together before her, gently squishing her ample breasts together, their flawless, alabaster flesh ballooning up towards the crowd. The assembled stallions eagerly voiced their approval, whistling and murmuring amongst themselves.

"In fact," said Sweetie Belle, "I think I'm about to sell number four." She pored over the crowd, looking straight into the eyes of her dear customers. "What do you say, boys? Would one of you like to take this little cutie home with you?"

The crowd, which had been fairly quiet up until that point, suddenly exploded with sound as the stallions enthusiastically proclaimed their intent to purchase the sofa, each one attempting to talk over his fellows in an effort to draw the lovely filly's attention.

Sweetie Belle chuckled to see how thoroughly she had riled up the crowd. "Boys, boys!" she said. "Calm down! Go talk to Davenport if you want to buy!"

Big Mac was nearly knocked to the floor as the stallions around him stampeded away, presumably to find the proprietor of the establishment. When the dust had settled, he found himself standing alone next to Sweetie Belle's sofa, the cluster that had formed around her having completely dissipated.

Sweetie Belle rose from the sofa, moving slowly and sensually as she stood, staring into Big Mac's eyes all the while. "How about you, Mac?" she said. "You gonna put in a bid?" She approached him, the little filly standing before the big, tall stallion, gazing lovingly up at him. "I'm sure I could get Davenport to give you the employee discount, given that you and I are so...close." As she said this, she raised one of her dainty little hands and placed it on his broad, muscular chest.

Big Mac had every intention of seeking out Davenport and having a long conversation with him about his sofas, among other things; however, his immediate priority was seeking out his sweet little baby sister, now that he knew what sort of things were going on within the walls of that seemingly innocent shop.

"Nope," said Big Mac sternly. "I need to find Apple Bloom."

Sweetie Belle's sultry visage briefly shifted to a pout, but the smile quickly returned to her face as she recognized Big Mac's intentions. "You're such a sweet guy, Mac," she chuckled, reaching up and giving him a pat on his cheek. "Sugar Belle's lucky to have you." Sweetie Belle stepped back, turning and padding away across the showroom in search of yet another sofa to sell. "Come find me if you ever need a sofa!" she said, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

Big Mac was momentarily distracted by the sensual sway of Sweetie Belle's hips, the filly lifting her tail to give him a good look at her plump, round bottom, letting him watch her cheeks jiggle with every step she took. The thought of his beloved marefriend quickly brought Big Mac back to his senses, however, and he recalled his true purpose there.

"Wait!" Big Mac called out. "Where's Apple Bloom?"

"Oh, she's over there somewhere," said Sweetie Belle as she continued walking, casually gesturing towards the other two clusters of stallions nearby.

Big Mac quickly looked back and forth between the crowd and Sweetie Belle, briefly considering asking for more helpful directions, but decided against it. Instead, he turned towards the nearest cluster of stallions, squared his shoulders, then marched determinedly towards the throng. As he reached the outermost layer of the crowd, he began forcing his way towards the center in a much less courteous manner than before. With his strong arms, he was easily able to carve a path through, firmly, but not violently, brushing aside those around him, provoking several annoyed comments from the displaced ponies. He didn't bother stopping to apologize; he didn't stop until he had pushed his way into the center, and saw what awaited him there.

The sofa was a large three-seater, its plush, squishy form covered by what appeared to be a soft faux-leather colored a deep, dull red akin to burgundy. Unlike the last sofa Big Mac had looked at, the one before him could not be called "elegant" by any stretch of the imagination, its designer having clearly prioritized function over fashion by including such thick, durable cushions and armrests. While he did not imagine that many mares would desire to feature such unfeminine furniture in their homes, he could easily see such a couch finding a place in the apartment of a young bachelor, or in a cozy stallion cave, it being the sort that could easily withstand the rough treatment of such owners. That being said, the filly currently draped across that sofa didn't seem to mind all that one bit.

Her thin, slender frame seemed so small and delicate when juxtaposed with that big, bulky couch, although a quick glance at the filly's tight, toned form would have been enough to see that she was no dainty flower. Beneath that bright orange coat could be seen subtle traces of her well-trained muscles, these especially noticeable on her bare legs, which were covered by nothing but a pair of short socks on her little feet. She wore little clothing anywhere else, for that matter, her sculpted physique obscured by only the pair of plain, off-white panties that clung to her hips and by the tight-fitting, purple tank top that emphasized her adorably small breasts and showed off the subtle outline of her abs. She lay on her side, facing the crowd, granting those around her a look at her perky little bottom, her short, purple tail, and the pair of feathered wings that sprouted from her upper back. The hair of her purple mane, cut in a short, tomboyish style, fell across the pillow on which she rested her head. The subtle features of her smiling little face, while not as overtly feminine as those of her friend, gave her an impish, fun-loving look, even with her eyes closed in apparent sleep.

Big Mac stood over the little filly, sighing as he looked upon her familiar face. "Not you too, Scootaloo," he grumbled.

At the sound of his voice, Scootaloo's eyes fluttered open, and she slowly looked up at him. "Sup, Mac!" she said with a smile. "Lookin' for a sofa?"

Big Mac glared down at her like a stern parent. "Nope," he said flatly.

"You sure?" said Scootaloo. "I bet you'd like this one. It's so big and comfy." As she said this, she squirmed and stretched out her slender limbs, before putting her hands behind her head and spreading her legs in a most unladylike manner.

"Where's Apple Bloom?" said Big Mac, trying to ignore the subtle cameltoe of the teen's panties.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but smiled. "I think she's over there," she said, lifting one of her legs and pointing a foot towards the other cluster of ponies nearby.

Big Mac looked in the direction Scootaloo indicated, then back at her. "Thanks," he said gruffly. He did a half-turn, preparing to make his way back through the crowd, but paused briefly, looking back at her. "And put on some clothes."

By the time Big Mac had emerged from the crowd and made his way to the final cluster of stallions, he was in no mood to be polite. His righteous anger, his disgust, and his fear for the well-being of his precious little sister were so great that it was all he could do to keep himself from throttling the next person he saw. So evident was this upon his face that all the big, powerful stallion needed to do was step up to the crowd, cross his muscular arms, and clear his throat loudly and clearly. The instant the stallions in the crowd took notice of who was standing in their midst, and saw the intense look on his face, they turned and ran, the lecherous onlookers making for the exit, lest they be forced to face the wrath of a protective big brother. In mere moments, the crowd had vanished, revealing the subject of their attention.

At first glance, Big Mac thought that the sofa before him had been taken straight from the home of one of his great-aunts. It was certainly of the same style as much of the furniture featured in the homes of the Apple family, his own home included, it being humble and old-fashioned in design, but sturdy and reliable. Its carved frame was made of polished wood, and its cushions boasted fabric of a dull orange color, like that of an autumn gourd. Even Big Mac could not help but think that it was a fine piece, the sort of sofa a simple stallion such as him could come home and snuggle with his mare on after a hard day of work.

The filly who rested upon that sofa seemed to have an affinity for it as well, given the comically undignified position she was lying in. She was lying on her belly, with her face smooshed against a plush pillow, her back arched, and her rear raised slightly into the air, shamelessly displaying her most astonishing asset. Like her big sister, she had inherited her mother's perfect pear-shaped figure, boasting a set of wide, motherly hips and a pair of huge, yellow cheeks that were the envy of her peers. Of course, her eye-catching lower half boasted a significant amount of hardened muscle in addition to her feminine softness, a fact that her thick, melon-crushing thighs and her iron buns made immediately apparent. Her upper half was not lacking in appeal either, the filly sporting strong arms, a toned stomach, and a pair of sizable breasts that could have fed a whole litter of foals. Her impressive form was bare, save for her big, loose t-shirt that had been tied off above her belly button, and her red panties, the butt of which featured the word "APPLE" written in big, bold letters. The sight of the filly in such a lewd state made Big Mac's blood boil, but even he could not help but soften at the sight of that wholesomely beautiful face surrounded by a curtain of long, red hair topped by a girlish bow. Watching her snore softly into her pillow and seeing her long tail twitch in her sleep recalled memories of times long ago when he had carried that little filly to bed and tucked her in, giving her a goodnight kiss. A loud, obnoxious snore and a reflexive twerk of the filly's delicious dumptruck quickly reminded him of his anger, however.

"Apple Bloom," Big Mac growled, crossing his arms.

Apple Bloom continued snoring peacefully, the filly apparently having drifted into a genuine sleep.

"Apple Bloom!" barked Big Mac, his voice deep and booming.

Apple Bloom started, her head popping off her pillow and her drowsy eyes fluttering open. "B-B-Buy some apples!" she mumbled as she woke. She blinked the sleep from her eyes as she slowly looked around, soon taking note of the towering stallion standing beside her resting place and looking up at a familiar face bearing a familiar expression of protective anger. "Oh." She chuckled awkwardly as she quickly pushed herself into an upright sitting position, with her legs off to one side of her. "Uh...hey, Mac! You, uh...wanna buy a sofa?"

The low, earthy grumble that came from Big Mac's throat made it perfectly clear what was on his mind, and it was not sofas.

"Okay, okay, look!" said Apple Bloom, holding up her hands defensively. "This ain't what it looks like!"

"Oh?" said Big Mac.

"Yeah!" said Apple Bloom. "Me and the girls...all we're doin' is just a little bit of modelin', just showin' folks how nice and comfy all these sofas are! We're just doin' our jobs as salesmares."

"Your job?" said Big Mac. "So it's your job to lie around in your underwear and get gawked at by stallions?"

Apple Bloom's expression soured. "Hey! I ain't showin' off any more skin than when I go to the swimmin' hole!" she declared. "Heck, Sugar Belle wears a skimpier bikini than I do, and I ain't never heard you complain about seein' her like that!"

The mental image of his voluptuous marefriend wearing her usual alluring swimwear momentarily distracted Big Mac. "Th-This ain't about Sugar Belle!" he said, forcing himself to refocus on the matter at hand.

"And who cares if a few stallions wanna take a gander at the best legs in Ponyville?" said Apple Bloom, proudly gesturing to her sculpted limbs. "They ain't doin' any harm just by lookin'!"

"Lookin'?" said Big Mac. "You think that's what I'm worried about?"

The anger on Apple Bloom's face was practically a mirror of that on her brother's. "Oh, I know you ain't implyin' what I think you're implyin'!" she snapped. "I ain't no slut, and I ain't no whore, so don't you go gettin' any ideas in that thick head of yours. I'm just a girl usin' what my mama gave me to get what I want, and what I happen to want right now is a steady paycheck with a nice, big commission on every sofa I sell."

"This ain't a debate, Apple Bloom," said Big Mac sternly. "This ends now."

"Excuse me?" said Apple Bloom incredulously. "You ain't the boss of me! I ain't a little filly anymore; I'm a grown mare, and I can do what I want when I want. What I wear on the job is between me and Davenport, not you!"

"Oh, so Davenport's the one makin' you dress in your..." began Big Mac, trailing off as he took a good look at Apple Bloom's shirt for the first time. "Hang on...is that my shirt?"

Apple Bloom glanced down at her oversized shirt, then back up at her brother. "Well, yeah!" she said. "I ain't gonna lay here in my actual PJs. I always sleep topless this time of year, but we all figured that'd be takin' things a little too far, so I borrowed some of yours."

Big Mac's stern visage faltered as he tried to keep the unwholesome thought of his topless little sister out of his Celestia-fearing mind, something that was not lost on Apple Bloom.

"Although," said Apple Bloom with a sly smile, "if you really want it back, I suppose I could..." As she said this, she grasped the bottom of her shirt and slowly drew it upwards.

"No!" cried Big Mac, reflexively reaching out and yanking her shirt back down just before her braless breasts were exposed. "No."

Apple Bloom chuckled as she saw her brother's deep red cheeks grow even redder, although the smug look on her face quickly rekindled Big Mac's anger.

"We're goin' home!" said Big Mac. "You're gonna get your butt off of that darn couch, you're gonna put your clothes back on, and then I'm gonna take you home and let Granny straighten you out, and that's if Applejack don't get to you first! Now come on!" As he finished, he reached out and grabbed Apple Bloom's wrist, squeezing it firmly, but not painfully.

"Hey!" Apple Bloom exclaimed, struggling against her brother's iron grip. "Let go of me! Let go of me or I'll show you what I did to the first and only fella who tried to get a hands-on demonstration from me!"

As Big Mac dragged Apple Bloom up off of the sofa and onto her feet, she reached up and grabbed Big Mac's hand with her free one. "You're lucky you got a marefriend," she said, "'cause you ain't gonna be usin' this hand for a while!"

"Woah, woah, woah, time out, time out!" came a voice from nearby.

Both Apple siblings swiveled their heads to the side, looking upon the approaching figure of Davenport. The shop owner was wearing his usual attire: neatly pressed slacks and a crisp, white shirt beneath a blue vest bearing his nametag. He also wore his most friendly, nonthreatening smile as he waded into the increasingly heated conflict, not wanting to escalate the situation further.

"Why don't we all just...take a breath," said Davenport as he stepped up to the two. "Big Mac, I'm sure you have some questions you'd like answered, so why don't we all have a nice, mature conversation about this...without violence?"

Big Mac and Apple Bloom looked back at each other, glaring angrily into each other's eyes for a moment, before the two slowly released their grips on each other and stepped back.

"Thank you," said Davenport, clearly relieved.

Apple Bloom crossed her arms, watching her big brother closely. Big Mac turned to face Davenport, struggling to keep his temper under control. He crossed his arms and gave Davenport an expectant look.

"I know, I know," said Davenport. "I have some explaining to do. Look, Mac, I understand why you're upset, but you have to believe me when I say that there's nothing unsavory going on here in this shop."

"Care to explain this, then?" said Big Mac, nodding towards Apple Bloom's revealing attire.

"Right, well..." Davenport began. "I...hired Apple Bloom and her friends as salesmares because I thought that having such...charming young mares working here would be just what I needed to give my business a boost."

"Charmin'?" said Big Mac, raising an eyebrow.

"Among other things," said Davenport. "Mac, I'm...sure even you can admit that your sister is a...lovely young mare, not to mention strong, intelligent, and fiercely determined. When she and her friends started out here, I encouraged them to make use of these...assets...in their dealings with customers, but I've left it up to them to decide how best to do that."

"He means he didn't ask us to dress like this," said Apple Bloom, growing impatient with Davenport's tactfulness. She stepped up to her employer and stood beside him in solidarity. "He was too sweet to ask us, but...we figured out what he was after pretty quick. After all, you don't hire the three hottest mares in Ponyville to sell sofas for no good reason. He knew what we were bringin' to the table, and the three of us got no problem with bringin' it...do we Scootaloo?" she said, directing this last bit towards where Scootaloo lay.

"Nope!" Scootaloo called out immediately.

"How 'bout you, Sweetie Belle?" Apple Bloom called out across the showroom.

"No problems here!" called out Sweetie Belle from within a fresh cluster of onlookers.

"See?" said Apple Bloom. "We ain't got a problem with what we're doin'. Our customers sure ain't got a problem with it. Davenport ain't got a problem with it; he knows we can bring in the bits, so he trusts us to make sales our way. He lets us do whatever we want, say whatever we want, and dress however we want while we're on the clock."

"Within reasonable limits," Davenport added.

"Right, right," said Apple Bloom. "Bottom line is, nobody here's gettin' their panties in a bunch over a few mares showin' a little bit of skin...nobody but you, that is."

"Mac," said Davenport, tentatively extending a hand and placing it comfortingly on Big Mac's shoulder, relieved when Big Mac did no more than glance at it. "Look, I get it. Apple Bloom is your little sister, and you don't want anything happening to her. Well, neither do I. You've known me for a long time; you know I'm not the sort of guy to take advantage of a mare like her. I'm not gonna hurt her, and I'm certainly not gonna let anyone in here hurt her. I care about my employees, even more than I care about my sofas! My philosophy is that everypony who walks into my shop should leave again happier than when they came in; that includes my employees, my customers...and you." As he said this, Davenport's smile widened slightly into a practiced salesstallion's grin. "How 'bout it, Mac? What can ol' Davenport do to make you happy? Maybe... sending you home with a brand-new, beautiful, top-of-the-line sofa?"

Big Mac's eyes widened as he realized what he had just been lured into. "Oh, no," he said firmly, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I ain't buyin' one of your gosh-darn sofas, Davenport."

Apple Bloom put a hand on Davenport and gently pulled him back. "Dav...lemme handle this," she said ominously. She looked up at Big Mac, the anger gone from her face, replaced with the gentle sweetness of a loving little sister. "C'mon, big brother. At least let me show you around. Let me show you we're serious about sofas here at Quills and Sofas. I'm sure we have somethin' you'll love." Suddenly, a devious glint appeared in her puppydog eyes. "And...I'm sure we'll have somethin' Sugar Belle will love."

Big Mac noticed the subtle change in her demeanor, but did not know what his little sister was playing at. "Sugar Belle?" he said.

"Well, yeah," said Apple Bloom. "After all...that is why you came in here in the first place, ain't it?" She slowly approached Big Mac, standing before him and placing her hands on his shoulders. "You wanted to find a nice, big, beautiful, and expensive sofa to buy for Sugar Belle, didn't you? Her birthday's comin' up soon, ain't it? I bet she'd love a pretty little couch to cozy up on with you. You're such a good coltfriend. I'm sure she'd love to know how much time and thought you put into pickin' out the perfect gift for her. Of course...I imagine she'd be a bit less happy if she thought you were here for...somethin' else."

Big Mac's brows furrowed quizzically.

"You spent an awful lot of time lookin' at Sweetie's and Scoot's sofas," said Apple Bloom. "That is what you were lookin' at, right? The sofas? You weren't lookin' at...anythin' else, were you? Certainly not anythin' you wouldn't want me to tell Sugar Belle you were lookin' at."

Big Mac's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the trap he had wandered into. "You...You're..." he began.

"Ssshhh..." shushed Apple Bloom softly, putting a finger to her brother's lips. "It's okay, Mac. Everythin's gonna be fine. I'm gonna show you a nice, fancy sofa that Sugar Belle will just love. You're gonna buy that sofa, earnin' me a nice, big commission. Then, you can give that sofa to Sugar Belle on her birthday and earn a heck of a lot of brownie points with her. Who knows? She might even decide to use that sofa to give you an extra-special 'thank you' present. And because you're such a good brother, I won't tell her that you were here eyein' up my friends in their underwear! See? Everybody wins! Well, except your wallet, that is."

Big Mac stammered and sputtered, his face a curious combination of anger, confusion, and dread as the reality of his situation slowly sank in. Eventually, he sighed heavily, visibly deflating as he realized that his little sister had him wrapped around her little finger.

"How much?" said Big Mac, his head hung low.

Apple Bloom smiled smugly at her triumph. "Oh, don't look so glum, big brother," she said. "C'mon! Lemme take you on a tour of the wonderful world of sofas!"

Apple Bloom grasped Big Mac's hand and led him away through the showroom, like a little filly dragging her parent through the aisles of a toy store. Of course, in this case, the filly was a sexy little redhead with a jaw-dropping ass that swayed sensually as she walked, and the parent was a dejected older brother preemptively mourning his poor piggy bank.

Payday

The sun was sinking low in the sky when Davenport finally managed to herd the last of his enthusiastic customers out of the shop. "I know, I know," he said in response to their many disappointed moans and grumbles. "I always hate leaving this place too, but don't you worry! We'll still have plenty of sofas left to sell on Monday, so don't be a stranger!"

Davenport let out a weary sigh as he closed the front door of his shop. He turned, slowly casting his gaze over the showroom, smiling at the peaceful emptiness of the place, now that all of the lookie-loos were gone...well, almost all of them.

"Snails," Davenport said flatly, looking over at the quills section, where a certain lanky teen had spent over an hour staring with awe upon those lovely feathers.

Snails blinked, as if waking from a dream, then looked back at Davenport. "Yeah, Davenport?" he said.

"Closing time," said Davenport.

"Oh, okay!" said Snails, smiling his usual dopey smile as he tore himself away from the shelves of quills around him. He casually strolled across the showroom, up to the front door, and then right out of the shop, not even glancing at the three scantily clad fillies nearby.

Sweetie Belle, still dressed in her naughty negligee, was making her way around the room with a snuffer, humming contentedly as she put out the many candles scattered about. Scootaloo, dressed in her "work clothes" as well, was busy fluffing the pillows and straightening the cushions of the sofa she had been lounging on, making it presentable once again. Apple Bloom, meanwhile, was still sprawled out across her sofa, sleeping like a baby; Davenport chuckled at the sight of her.

"Could one of you wake up sleeping beauty?" Davenport said as he made his way to the light switches and re-lit the store to compensate for the diminishing candlelight.

"I got it," said Scootaloo, making her way over to where Apple Bloom lay. "C'mon, AB, get your fine ass in gear! It's closing time." She roused her sleeping friend not with a kiss, but with a playful spank delivered to one of Apple Bloom's vulnerable ass cheeks.

Apple Bloom jolted awake, groaning at being so abruptly dragged back into the waking world. "Hey!" she said groggily. "Hands off the merchandise!" She reached back and massaged the struck cheek, her provocative panties having done little to cushion the blow.

"Oh, you know you love it," said Scootaloo with a teasing grin as she went back to work.

Apple Bloom glared at Scootaloo, her expression half annoyed and half playful, already pondering how best to deliver some payback to her friend's tight little ass.

With all four of them working together, Davenport and the fillies soon had the shop looking neat and tidy once again, ready to face the crowd. Shelves were dusted, sofas were de-linted, and the many candles safely extinguished.

"Y'know, I was really skeptical when you girls told me to buy all these candles," said Davenport as he snuffed out a dancing flame, inhaling the delightful aroma it gave off, "but you were right: they really do create the right atmosphere in here. I know the customers sure appreciate it."

"We told you we know what we're doing," said Sweetie Belle as she sidled up to him. "You just gotta trust us, and we'll help you make Quills and Sofas the best shop in town. I bet even Filthy Rich will be coming to you for business advice pretty soon."

Davenport chuckled as he turned to face her. "I do trust you," he said, giving her a genuine smile, "all of you, and I can't thank you enough for all you've done to help get the shop back on track. I really appreciate it."

"Aww, thanks, Dav," said Sweetie Belle, smiling sweetly. "We really appreciate you too. You've been such a good boss, and...we've had a lot of fun working here with you. I hope that we can all have...even more fun together in the future." As she said this, Sweetie Belle demurely clasped her hands together before her. Her arms moved closer together, squishing her ample breasts just subtly enough for the action to be plausibly unintentional. Of course, as always, Sweetie Belle knew exactly what she was doing.

Davenport's eyes caught the motion of Sweetie Belle's flawless flesh as it ballooned up, reflexively looking down at the mountainous mammaries she boasted. He quickly found himself getting lost in the deep valley of cleavage that ran between those beautiful breasts, and it took a great force of will for him to tear his gaze away and look back up at her smiling face.

"Uhh...y-yeah," said Davenport struggling to recall where the conversation had left off. "I'm...sure we will."

Sweetie Belle's seemingly innocent smile widened. Davenport's eyes had only been wandering for a brief moment, but it had been more than enough time for her to take note of where he had been looking. She didn't mind, of course. She didn't mind if the sweet, respectful stallion stole a few innocent glances now and again; for that matter, neither did her friends. It certainly made up for all of the many glances they had gotten of him during their time there.

Davenport was, in truth, quite a fine specimen, something that the Crusaders had not become fully aware of until they had joined the Quills and Sofas team. He was tall, almost as tall as Big Mac, and almost as muscled, years of lifting and moving sofas having given him powerful arms, thick legs, a broad, masculine chest, and buns of steel. While his work clothes were not nearly as casual as the fillies', that hadn't stopped them from noticing the huge muscles that flexed beneath his clothes and his tan-colored coat every time he hefted a couch around. He had a nice face too, not supermodel handsome, but handsome in the same way that Big Mac was: rugged, and unabashedly masculine, with a strong jaw and none of the lingering traces of colthood that a stallion of the fillies' own age might have borne. One edge he had over the soft-spoken apple farmer, however, was his confident, outgoing smile and the determined gleam in his eye that had won him many sofa sales in the past. With his professional attire and his short, brown mane combed back neatly, he was the very image of a successful stallion: powerful, composed, and unquestionably in control.

Sweetie Belle quivered at the thought.

Davenport cleared his throat. "Well, uh...let's get back to it then," he said. "I wouldn't want to keep you here all night."

Sweetie Belle briefly considered the scenario of spending the night in the shop alone with Davenport, silently indulging in a bit of teenage fantasizing. "Yes, sir," she said, an oddly intimate tone to her voice.

"I told you you didn't have to call me that," said Davenport with a confused smile.

"I know," said Sweetie Belle, turning slowly and sauntering off, her long, beautiful tail swishing through the air behind her.

It was not long after that that the four had finished their work, and were prepared to head home for the night.

"Well, I think that's about it for today," said Davenport, stretching his tired limbs. "You did good today, girls. Let's all do even better next week!"

"Hang on!" said Apple Bloom, approaching Davenport and standing before him. "We ain't headin' off yet."

"Yeah!" said Scootaloo, standing beside her friend. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Sweetie Belle quickly joined the others, the three fillies looking up at Davenport expectantly. Davenport stared blankly at them for a moment, trying to think of what they could be referring to. He quickly scanned the shop, but saw no work that still needed to be done. "Uh..." he said, patting his pockets, making sure he had not forgotten any of his personal belongings.

"It's Friday," said Sweetie Belle patiently. When her hint proved insufficient, she rolled her eyes, smiling in amusement. "Payday."

"Oh!" said Davenport, the realization hitting him like a baseball bat. "So it is!" He chuckled in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. "I'm sorry, girls. I swear, I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached to the rest of me!"

"And that's why you got us here to keep you on track," said Apple Bloom with a grin.

Davenport chuckled. "Alright then," he said, "let's head back and get you three taken care of."

It was only a short walk to the small office Davenport had in the back of the shop. Davenport quickly made his way to the door behind the counter, the fillies following closely behind him like a trio of baby ducks. "Ladies first!" said Davenport with a smile, holding the door open for them. The fillies flashed him smiles of their own as they stepped into the office, with Davenport closing the door after he had followed them in.

Davenport's office was a small one, not cramped by any means, but small enough that most high-paid executives would have scoffed at the sight of it. Still, it served the humble shopkeeper well, being neat and tidy, and brightly lit by the lights that he turned on as they entered. It had thick, plush carpeting that felt good on the fillies' bare feet. It boasted a wooden desk big enough to hold whole stacks of Davenport's sofa catalogs, and a comfortable chair big enough to hold the stallion himself. There were a few filing cabinets here and there, some framed photographs on the wall, and even a few scented candles that Davenport had nicked from the showroom after coming to appreciate their alluring scent. Of course, none of these features was as notable as the one that the fillies found their eyes magnetically drawn to every time they stepped into that cozy little office.

The Big Black Couch. That's what the fillies had taken to calling it, and it was more than deserving of that deceptively innocuous moniker. Like a great slab of thick cushion and jet-black faux-leather it was, great and terrible to behold, its powerful presence more befitting of some ancient monolith carved by a long-forgotten civilization than the simple three-seater sofa it really was. It wasn't the biggest sofa in the shop by any means, or the fanciest, or even the newest; in fact, the piece looked quite well-used. Despite this, the fillies found their eyes wandering over its bulky form, its plush armrests, and its soft cushions more than those of any other piece in the shop. Perhaps it was the stark simplicity of the sofa that paradoxically drew the fillies' attention so effectively. It was as if it wasn't even trying to stand out, unlike the many other sofas it shared the shop with. Where the others tried so desperately to elevate themselves above their fellows through elegant design, luxurious make, or just simple functionality, each one yearning to feel the touch of one of the three lovely salesmares who tended to them, the Big Black Couch merely sat there against the wall, knowing full well that it didn't even need to try. That shameless sofa had neither eyes nor mouth, and yet the fillies could feel its intense gaze upon them all the same, and see it grinning smugly as it leered at the three tasty little morsels that wandered into its lair.

Lips were bitten and thighs were rubbed together as Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo filed into the office, standing before the desk, with their tantalizing tushies turned towards the sofa behind them. Meanwhile, Davenport took his seat behind the desk. "Alright..." he said, looking to the locked drawer to his side. It took him only a moment to unlock the drawer with the key on his key ring and open it, revealing the three bags of bits he had counted out earlier that day, each one about the size of a grapefruit.

"Sweetie Belle," said Davenport, carefully retrieving the bag that bore the filly's name.

Sweetie Belle stepped closer and extended a hand as Davenport passed the bag to her. "Thanks, Davenpo-oh!" she said, her words interrupted by an exclamation of surprise as the bag was deposited into her hand, and the immense weight of it nearly caused her to drop it down onto the desk. She reflexively reached out and grabbed it with her other hand, managing to keep a hold on it.

"You alright there?" said Davenport.

"Um...y-yeah," said Sweetie Belle, stunned at the abnormal weight of her bag. She carefully drew it closer to her, assessing its weight and listening to the clinking of the many golden coins it contained.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, having watched all of this happen, were both eager and astonished when Davenport handed each of them their own bags of bits, each bag around the same hefty size as Sweetie Belle's. The fillies each cradled their bags in their hands, their eyes widening as they realized how much money they were holding.

"Davenport..." said Sweetie Belle as she peeked inside of her bag. She pursed her lip, considering whether or not to say something, eventually deciding to speak her mind. "Are you...sure you counted correctly?"

"Yeah," said Scootaloo. "I think you might have...added an extra zero somewhere."

Davenport suppressed a chuckle at the fillies' reactions, but couldn't help but let his smile out. "No, there's no mistake here, girls," he said. "Those are the right amounts. I counted them all twice."

"But...But this is..." began Apple Bloom.

"This is way more than we got last week!" said Scootaloo. "We couldn't have sold...that many sofas."

"You could have, and you did," said Davenport, smiling proudly. "Thanks to you three, this has been one of the most profitable weeks in Quills and Sofas history! You sold so many sofas that...well, so many you couldn't even keep track, apparently...but I did. I kept track of every sale you three made, and I made sure you each got your due. Plus, I...I even threw in a little bonus on top...just to let you know how much I appreciate you three."

The fillies each stared at the bundle of coins they held, their minds already filling with thoughts of the expensive things they would buy with them.

"Gosh, I...I don't know what to say!" Apple Bloom chuckled.

"Thanks, Dav!" said Scootaloo, smiling widely.

"This is...so generous of you!" said Sweetie Belle, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh...generosity had nothing to do with it," said Davenport. "You three worked hard, and you earned every bit! You three should go out and buy yourselves something nice with that as a reward...like a beautiful, new sofa!" He chuckled at his own joke. "I'm just kidding, of course. I imagine you three have probably got your fill of sofas for the week."

While the fillies were indeed not planning on spending their newfound wealth on any of Davenport's furniture, that didn't mean that they were opposed to paying their employer back for his unexpected generosity. They had already grown quite fond of the big, handsome, kind, and presumably well-off stallion over their brief time working at his shop, but for him to so nonchalantly throw around so much money, and throw it in their direction specifically, endeared him to them in more ways than one. Such a casual display of wealth was the sort of flex that the fillies could appreciate in the more rational parts of their minds, but also in the more primal, hormone-heavy sections of their little teenage brains. The act was an implicit statement about their relationship with the stallion, a reminder of who was on top, as well as a promise of future reward for those on the bottom, so long as they continued to please. The fillies had done a lot to make Davenport happy already, and none of them were particularly opposed to doing a little bit more.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo slowly looked up from their bags, locking eyes with each other. In that moment, each of them realized that the others were thinking exactly what they were thinking, and feeling exactly what they were feeling. The three shared a silent conversation, those longtime friends not needing words to know each other's hearts, and quickly came to the same decision. Devious sparks flared up in their beautiful eyes, and sly grins appeared on their soft, feminine lips as they looked back to their beloved employer.

"Davenport, I...we really appreciate this," said Apple Bloom, giving Davenport her loveliest smile.

"We really, really do," said Scootaloo, gazing deeply into Davenport's eyes.

"It's just that...we're not sure we've really...earned this," said Sweetie Belle, her soft voice sounding simultaneously sweet and sultry to Davenport's ear.

"What are you talking about?" Davenport chuckled. "Of course you have!"

"We may bring in the customers," said Apple Bloom, "but you're the one who does the heavy liftin' around here...literally." As she said this, she slowly set down her bag of bits on the desk, then walked around it, drawing closer to Davenport.

"You do so much to keep this place running," said Scootaloo, setting down her bag and walking around the other side of the desk, "but all we have to do is...sit around and look pretty."

"What we're trying to say is," said Sweetie Belle, setting down her own bag, "if there's...anything else we could do to help the shop...to help you...we'd do it...gladly." She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward slightly, subtly presenting her ample breasts to the stallion before her.

"Totally," said Scootaloo as she set her tight little butt down on one side of the desk, intimately close to Davenport.

"In a heartbeat," said Apple Bloom as she mirrored Scootaloo, the desk creaking under the weight of her meaty ass cheeks.

Davenport clearly saw the lusty looks and salacious smiles that the three half-naked fillies were giving him, yet the respectful stallion tried to deny the reality of the increasingly heated situation. His body, on the other hand, was more than willing to respond to the signals the fillies were giving off, and he soon became aware of the pounding of his heart, the sweat on his brow, and a familiar tightness of his pants.

"Uhh...I um...I appreciate the offer, girls," Davenport said, "but I...don't think there's anything else around here that I'd need your...your help with."

"Really?" said Scootaloo, reaching out and placing a hand on Davenport's muscular shoulder, caressing it slowly. "There's not anything we can help you out with? Not one little thing?"

Apple Bloom reached out and placed a hand on Davenport's chest, feeling out the hard muscles hidden beneath his clothes. "Or maybe...one not-so-little thing?" she said. Her eyes darted down between Davenport's legs, and her smile widened as she saw the very noticeable bulge there.

"Just say the word," said Sweetie Belle as she leaned in even closer, bringing her face within inches of Davenport's. She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, stroking it lovingly. "Just say the word...and we'll do it...sir."

Davenport gulped. He fought desperately to keep his eyes from wandering over the buffet of tantalizing flesh laid out before him, the curvaceous legs, the toned tummies, and the soft, squeezable chests, but looking upon the fillies' beautiful faces, and upon the sultry expressions that he could no longer ignore, was not any better for his rapidly crumbling self-control.

"Are you fillies...sure about this?" said Davenport softly.

Apple Bloom leaned in close to him, close enough for him to feel her warm breath on his skin as she whispered into his ear. "We ain't little fillies anymore...sir," she said. "We're mares."

"Mares who know what they want," Scootaloo whispered into his other ear, "and know what you want, too...sir."

"And mares who want to give you what you want, sir," whispered Sweetie Belle, leaning in so close that she and Davenport practically booped their snoots together, "who've been wanting to give you what you want...bits or no."

While Davenport's chivalry up until that point can certainly be commended, there are few red-blooded stallions who would have faulted him for crumbling under the pressure those three barely-legal mares were putting him under. He watched helplessly as the last images of the sweet, innocent fillies those three had once been vanished from his mind, replaced by much less wholesome images of the grown mares that now stood before him, images conjured up by the most base parts of his mind.

Davenport's trembling lips calmed, then slowly stretched into his usual strong, confident grin. "Well," he said, looking each of the fillies squarely in the eye, "there may be...one thing you could do to...help the shop."

The fillies' smiles widened as the recognized that they had finally nabbed their big, hunky prey.

"And what might that be?" said Sweetie Belle, batting her long eyelashes.

Davenport's voice grew firmer as he allowed his brain to take a back seat, and allowed a certain other part of his anatomy to take charge. "Well...you three have done an amazing job as salesmares," he said, "what with your unique brand of...modeling...but I can't help but feel that you three could stand to...step up your game a bit."

"Oh yeah?" said Scootaloo.

"Yeah," said Davenport. "Everypony loves taking a nice, long nap on a beautiful sofa...but there are other things that folks can use sofas for as well...more...active things."

"There sure are," said Apple Bloom.

"Perhaps you three could practice...modeling those sorts of things for me," said Davenport. "I trust you girls, of course, but...I'd want to make sure you three are making good use of my wares."

Sweetie Belle hummed. "I think...that sounds like a fun idea," she said, quickly glancing at the agreeing looks on her friends' faces, "as long as it's...just for you."

"Just for me," Davenport confirmed.

"Well...alrighty then," said Apple Bloom, barely able to contain her excitement.

"How do you want us to...get started...sir?" said Scootaloo, similarly enthused.

A thousand scenarios flashed through Davenport's lustful mind in the blink of an eye, although the vast majority of them had one particular element in common.

"How about you three head over to the couch and...show me what you can do?" he said.

The fillies glanced back at the imposing figure of the couch behind them, their imaginative minds flooding with images very similar to those that were running through Davenport's. Scootaloo gulped. Apple Bloom bit her lip. Sweetie Belle slowly drew her tongue over her full, feminine lips, moistening them in anticipation.

The three looked back at Davenport and smiled. "Yes, sir," they said together.

Davenport watched intently as the fillies slowly stepped away from the desk and came together before it, all hesitation gone from his eyes as he drank in the sight of their nubile bodies. The fillies could feel his gaze running over them like a lecherous hand, even when they turned their beautiful backsides to him. Of course, they could also feel the probing gaze of the couch, which sat silently against the wall before them, patiently awaiting their approach. The fillies trembled, like three lost little children trapped between a pair of ravenous beasts poised to gobble them up. They reached out and clasped each other's hands, then walked forward, crossing the short distance to the couch at a glacial pace, both out of anticipation, and so that their beloved boss could get a good, long look at their swaying hips, their jiggling cheeks, and their lovely, swishing tails. When at last they stood before the couch, they turned back around, looking upon Davenport's face, and quivering as they saw the look upon it: a look of hunger, of desire, and of unequivocal, unquestionable dominance. The fillies immediately obeyed his silent command, and lowered themselves down onto the couch.

A spine-tingling shiver ran through all three fillies as the soft, warm flesh of their bare legs and their panty-clad asses made contact with the cool, smooth fabric of the couch's cushions. What little composure they had managed to maintain instantly vanished, the three practically melting back into the plush cushions, moaning softly as they did. The great big couch happily welcomed the three little fillies into its embrace, the soft squeaks of its old springs sounding like a warm, satisfied chuckle. As they sat there together, nested into the immense bulk of the couch, and their scantily clad bodies on display for the big, powerful stallion before them, the fillies felt so small, so weak, and so vulnerable.

They had never felt more turned on.

Davenport watched them silently, his strong, dominant smile never wavering. Slowly, he nodded his head, signaling them to proceed.

Still acclimating to the cool kiss of the fabric they felt all over their bodies, and to the industrial quantities of hormones pumping through their veins, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle tore their gazes away from Davenport, looking to each other. The feminine confidence those three had exhibited just a short time earlier, born of their own youthful arrogance, had evaporated, a fact that the three of them could see clearly in each other's eyes. Instead, those horny teens saw upon each other's features a much more powerful emotion: a desperate, carnal need, a need which they were more than willing to help each other satisfy.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders had been friends for a very long time, and there were few ponies that could claim to share a closer bond than them. The three had helped each other through countless trials and struggles over the years, growing ever closer and ever more trusting as they had shared their vulnerabilities with each other. Unsurprisingly, these vulnerabilities included the myriad of insecurities and stresses commonly lumped together under the label of "adolescence". Over the past few years, the fillies had spent many long hours together, secluded in the privacy of their little tree house, sharing themselves with each other, and learning much about themselves and one another. While the exact nature of their intimate activities was a secret known only to them, it is sufficient to say that, as they snuggled together on that couch, preparing to put on as alluring of a display as they could manage, they had a good idea of what they were doing.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, sitting to Sweetie Belle's left and right, leaned in closer to their friend, pressing their chests against hers and bringing their faces together. The three closed their eyes as their faces met, and they nuzzled each other in a loving, almost innocent fashion, savoring the familiar feel of each other's faces, manes, and warm, moist breaths. The soft smooches they were soon placing on each other's cheeks were similarly wholesome, although this quickly changed as the fillies kissed their way across each other's faces, and their lips met in a steamy three-way kiss that, while slow and gentle, was incredibly erotic to behold. The meeting of those loving mouths invigorated the three, and their oral ministrations quickly intensified. Within moments, their eager tongues had emerged and commenced a passionate bout of tongue-wrestling, exploring each other's mouths both outside and in.

Their mouths were not the only things the three fillies put to work, however. As they lapped and licked at each other, filling the air with their soft moans, they allowed their hands to roam and play as well. There was no shortage of soft, squeezable flesh for the fillies to fondle, and so their fingers quickly glided across' each other's bodies, sampling every unique sensation they had to offer. Sweetie Belle's plush, pillowy thighs were squeezed. Apple Bloom's firm, toned tummy was caressed. Scootaloo's perky little buns were playfully pinched. Faces were lovingly stroked, breasts teased, and fingers run through the tresses of manes and tails. They entwined their legs, shivering in delight as they rubbed their smooth, velvety skin together and tickled each other with their toes. Not a single spot on their beautiful bodies went untouched, unappreciated, or unloved, not even the hot, dripping honeypots concealed between their thighs. The first gentle strokes the fillies felt through the fabric of their moist panties elicited sharp gasps of surprise, but these quickly made way for pleasured moans and whimpers as they continued to tease each other's tender lips.

As the long, lustful moments dragged on, and the fillies became increasingly lost in the sensation of each other, they almost forgot about their audience of one...almost. Every once in a while, in between the long licks they placed on each other's necks and the gentle nibbles they took of each other's quivering ears, their eyes would flutter open, and they would take in the sight of each other, and of him. They could clearly see that he was enjoying their little show, his eyes darting to and fro over their bodies, hungrily taking in their every minute movement. At the same time, he gave them an approving smile, a smile warm and loving, but at the same time, as cold as that of a hungry lion stalking a trio of plump little gazelles, waiting patiently for the right moment to pounce. The fillies awaited that moment much less patiently, the anticipation of it driving them crazy in more ways than one.

Desperate to move things along, desperate to entice their eager onlooker to join them, and desperate to feel the pleasure of something much more substantial than each other's slender, feminine fingers upon their aching marehoods, the fillies decided to take things up a notch. None of them said a word, but at some silent signal heard only by them, the grabby hands of those three moved to each other's clothes, those meager obstructions to their sensual play having grown positively unbearable to them. One at a time, the few garments that still obscured their sexy bodies were removed, before being tossed down onto the floor. Scootaloo's pretty little titties were bared as her tank top was pulled over her head, as were Apple Bloom's big, yellow teardrops when her t-shirt followed. Those two could practically hear Sweetie Belle's massive milkers wobbling as they were freed from the cups of her lacy lingerie and settled into place upon her chest. Last, but certainly not least, three pairs of sopping-wet panties were pulled down three pairs of trembling legs, and were thrown into a pile together on the floor.

The thrill of their exposure, of having every inch of their nubile bodies revealed to their soon-to-be stud, was exhilarating beyond any description those three could have given. Instead, the fillies conveyed the contents of their pounding hearts through their actions, and through the desperate, needy looks they gave him. They wriggled and writhed upon the couch, their once-tender snuggling having devolved into something just shy of wrestling. They fervently kneaded each other's breasts, sinking their fingers deep into that plump flesh, and playfully pinched each other's pretty pink nipples, which had grown as hard as diamonds by that point. Three asses of varying size and consistency were whorishly presented; Apple Bloom took the opportunity to give Scootaloo's a sharp spank, which provoked no angered response, but rather an intense, sloppy kiss. Their pretty little pussies, each slippery slit being picturesque in its small size and with its tightly pursed lips, yearned for more than the soft strokes they had been receiving. The fillies quickly rectified this, plunging their fingers into each other's tight, dripping depths, and tenderly teasing each other's little love buttons.

Intense pleasure coursed through the fillies, both the hot, roiling pleasure of carnal sensation, and the gentle, soul-soothing pleasure that only comes from one sharing such an intimate moment with the ponies they love more than any other. They gladly lost themselves in it, allowing it to swallow them up, leaving them deaf and blind to all else that was not each other. Their eyes closed in a sloppy three-way kiss, they did not see the stallion rise from his seat behind his desk. Their ears filled with each other's whimpering moans, they did not hear his soft footsteps as he slowly approached the couch, he having already removed his shoes. Instead, it was their noses that drew them out of their stupor, their adorable little snoots detecting a scent other than the thick aroma of feminine sexuality that hung over them, a scent much more powerful and distinctively more masculine.

As one, the fillies cracked their hazy eyes, looking first upon each other's disheveled faces, and then, turning their heads, upon the great pillar of stallion that stood towering over them. Gone was the smile from that familiar face, replaced with an expression that mirrored those the fillies bore, one intense, bestial, and wholly consumed by primal need. That is not to say that he felt no pleasure as he gazed down upon the horny, naked teens before him, of course, but the feeling of intense satisfaction that set his blood alight as he took Apple Bloom's chin in his big, strong hand, leaned in close, and pressed his hungry lips to hers was beyond such mundane descriptors. Apple Bloom, too, felt that same satisfaction as his strong tongue invaded her mouth, easily overpowering her own weary tongue in a pussy-clenching display of masculine dominance. She moaned into his mouth as he explored her nooks and crannies, and even after he had finished with her, popping his lips off of hers with a satisfied grunt, she continued to moan as she watched him go to each of her friends in turn and give them deep, possessive kisses as well. By the time their stud had finished lovingly violating their mouths and had risen to his full height once again, the fillies felt as if they had just been on the receiving end of a grade-A rutting, but they realized with a shudder that the true fun was only just getting started.

The fillies watched as his hands moved to his vest, their eyes glued to his fingers as they slowly undid the buttons. He smirked at the adorable desperation plastered all over their faces as they watched him disrobe. Despite their clear need, he took his sweet time, letting them savor every excruciating moment of anticipation. They had already gotten their chance to tease him, to put on a show; he was just returning the favor. While it felt like an eternity to the fillies, it was, in reality, only a few moments before the vest was tossed onto the floor, and he began on the buttons of his crisp, clean shirt. His hands slowly moved down his torso, every button undone provoking squirms, whimpers, or nibbled lips. By the time the last button had been undone, the fillies looked as if they were about to burst, and as he grasped the two halves of his shirt and peeled the garment from his torso, they practically did.

While the fillies had spent many occasions fantasizing about the concealed contents of his clothing, to see it with their own eyes, to see those vast acres of sculpted, masculine muscle stretching out before them, was a different experience entirely. Apple Bloom let out a soft, shuddering moan as she gazed upon his massive pectorals, her mouth watering at the thought of rubbing her face against them. Sweetie Belle squeaked adorably as she pored over his clearly defined abs, thinking to herself that she could probably grate cheese on them. Scootaloo, upon seeing his powerful arms bared for the first time, and imagining the feel of them wrapped around her in a strong, possessive embrace, couldn't keep her hand from darting between her legs, or keep the needy whimper from sneaking past her lips.

Looking down upon them, he couldn't help but smile in satisfaction at the looks those three were giving him. He waited, giving them a few precious moments to savor the sight of him, but did not delay for long; he was only halfway done, after all. Eventually, he moved his hands to his belt, preparing to unfasten it, but just before the first tug, Sweetie Belle's hand shot out and grasped one of his own, squeezing it firmly. Shortly after, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom reached out as well, their hands pawing at his belt, and at the huge bulge just below it. They looked up at him, the intense desire on their faces tempered with hesitation, as if they were little children that wanted some expensive toy, but were afraid to ask their parents to buy it for them. His lips stretched into a warm smile as their intent became clear to him. After all, what little filly wouldn't want to open her own present on Hearth's Warming morning? He could see that they wanted it badly, but like the good little fillies they were, they were waiting for permission. He could tell that they would have obediently, if not happily, obeyed him had he denied them their wish, yet he chose to give them what they wanted, withdrawing his hands and giving the three of them an approving nod.

The faces of the fillies lit up at this signal, and their eyes immediately darted to his belt. Six eager hands converged on the buckle, squabbling amongst themselves over which would have the honor of undoing it. He chuckled as the seconds ticked by, and the desperate fillies yanked and pulled at his clothing, eventually managing to undo his belt and his fly, causing his pants to fall down his thick, muscular legs to land at his feet. The fillies were momentarily frozen at the sight of the immense bulge of throbbing flesh constrained solely by the thin fabric of his underwear. Their trembling hands moved slowly to the waistline of the garment, their fingers slipping beneath the elastic band and grasping it firmly. They gulped, and as one, pulled it down.

So great was the pressure that had built up behind that meager wall of cloth that, upon the underwear being removed, its contents immediately and climactically exploded outwards. The fillies reflexively jerked back their heads, but not quickly enough for Sweetie Belle to avoid having her cute little snoot forcefully booped by something big, heavy, and blunt. They blinked in surprise, their lust-addled minds struggling to comprehend the sudden appearance of a third mighty leg, but as the reality slowly sunk in, and they realized that it was no leg that stood tall and proud before their faces, throbbing and twitching, their eyes slowly widened, and their jaws fell to the floor.

It was in no way an exaggeration to say that the immense pillar of rock-hard flesh that jutted from between their stud's legs was the biggest any of those three little fillies had ever laid eyes upon. Longer than their slender little forearms, and significantly girthier, that great stallionhood seemed to have been custom-built for breaking and breeding fertile mares such as them, it possessing a thick, veiny shaft that could have easily plumbed their deepest depths, a flared, fist-like head that could have demolished any meager barrier that might stand in its way, and an accompanying pair of bulging balls, each one as big and as mouthwatering as any fruit on Apple Bloom's farm, and each one churning with enough virile seed to have knocked the three of them up a dozen times over. As the fillies pored over it, leaving not a single inch of it unseen, they quickly fell under its spell, enthralled by the sight of it, the feel of the great heat it radiated, and the smell of the thick, masculine scent that exuded from that turgid flesh, and from the sticky drops that leaked from its tip, some of which had already been smeared over Sweetie Belle's beautiful face.

He leaned back his head and let out a long sigh of relief as he felt the gentle kiss of the air upon his aching flesh. When he had acclimated to his newfound freedom, he slowly looked back down, chuckling softly as he took in the sight of the three wide-eyes fillies gazing upon him in all his naked glory. Their burning, soul-consuming desire was clearly visible, and yet the three seemed to be paralyzed, unable to cross the short distance to the thing they so desperately wanted. It was as if they thought the beautiful sight before them was some mirage or illusion, and might be suddenly whisked away from them should they so much as breathe upon it too heavily. He felt sympathy for the three little fillies, and wanted to show them that there was nothing to fear, that there was no longer any reason to deny the yearning of their hearts, or their quivering marehoods. Reaching out, he gently took their pretty little heads in his big, strong hands, then pulled them closer.

The spell was broken the instant the fillies felt the touch of that stiff flesh upon their faces. The stormy seas of lust swirling through all three of their minds once again consumed them, and stoked them into a ravenous frenzy that would have made a pack of hungry bitches appear mild-mannered. A chorus of moans, whimpers, and needy whines filled the air as the fillies set upon that cock with their lips, their tongues, and their hands, giving and receiving pleasure freely. Their frantic kisses varied from delicate little pecks to long, sloppy tongue-kisses, their licks slathering his length with their warm saliva. They grabbed at it, squeezing it, caressing it, and pumping it enthusiastically, needing both hands to encompass its great girth. Sometimes, they would simply nuzzle it, lovingly rubbing their faces against the shaft, the balls, or against the leaking tip, paying no mind to the smears of saliva and salty pre that stained their flawless features.

The constant waves of spine-tingling pleasure that washed over him throughout this carnal adoration was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The myriad of sensations he was treated to, from the gentle to the intense, combined to form a symphony of sexuality that was almost as big of a rush as the realization that it was, in fact, happening, that there were indeed three beautiful, sexy young mares, mares adored and desired by countless stallions, worshiping him, without hesitation and without restraint. He saw the depths of their desire in their half-lidded eyes as they gazed up at him, saw the extent of their submission, and conversely, saw the extent of his own limitless control and dominance over them. He could have asked them to do anything in that moment, and they would have done it without a second thought, but as he stared into the eyes of the three little fillies he had come to care for so much, there was only one thing he was in the mood to have them do, only one thing he wanted from them, and coincidentally, it was the same thing the three of them had been wanting to give him since the moment they had set their little butts down on that couch.

He reached down, reaching past the hungry mouths and the grabby hands, and grabbed Sweetie Belle beneath her armpits. The little filly let out a shocked gasp as the big stallion carefully lifted her up, moving her as easily as if she were made of cotton. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo moved back, watching in aroused awe as he lifted Sweetie Belle up off of the couch, pulled her in closer, then carefully lowered her down onto his shaft, letting her straddle it like a seesaw. Sweetie Belle quivered as she felt that throbbing cock rub against her pretty little pussy, and let out an adorable whimper. She wrapped her arms around her stud and held him close, rubbing her soft, plush body against his rock-hard one. He returned the embrace, holding her tightly. She stood upon the tips of her toes on the floor, but still had to lean her head back to meet his loving gaze.

"Are you ready?" he whispered.

She gulped. "Yes," she whispered back. "Yes, sir."

He wasted no more time. Once again, he lifted her up, setting her down on the floor between the couch and his cock. He spun her around, then gently pushed her down onto her knees, so that she knelt facing the couch. He placed a hand on her back, then bent her forward at the waist, until her chest was pressed flat against the cushion she had been sitting on moments earlier. He withdrew his hand, but she obediently remained in place; she would have gladly lain there for a thousand years if he had asked it of her. Instead, she merely spread her legs, raised her plump, juicy rear into the air, and looked back over her shoulder, watching him in lustful anticipation.

Of course, he was not about to ignore the other two fillies sitting next to her, eagerly awaiting some attention of their own. With Sweetie Belle in position, he then turned to Apple Bloom, reaching down and lifting her up as easily as he had her friend. He set the second filly down on his cock just like the first, letting her savor the feel of its girth between her thighs. She hugged him tight, moaning as she squeezed his cock just tightly enough to remind him of the even greater tightness that it would soon feel. He hugged her back, and looked down into her pretty little eyes.

"Are you ready?" he said.

Her lips stretched into a weak smile. "Yessir," she said.

With that, he lifted Apple Bloom up and set her down on the floor, facing Sweetie Belle. Recognizing his intent, Apple Bloom quickly moved into position at his guiding touch, carefully lying down upon her friend, pressing her chest against her back, and setting her big butt down on the one beneath it. She settled comfortably into place, spreading her legs, resting her head on Sweetie Belle's, and presenting her dripping lower lips.

As he turned to Scootaloo, reaching out to grab her, the eager filly practically leaped into his arms, not wanting to wait another moment to join her friends. He chuckled at her enthusiasm as he lowered her down onto his cock, and savored the adorable look on her face as she reflexively ground herself against it. The two embraced, the filly whimpering and flapping her little wings in delight.

"Are you re—" he began.

"Yes!" she blurted out. "Yes. Yes, sir."

He gave her a smile, then carefully set her down before her friends. With a gentle touch, he guided her into position, Scootaloo lying down atop Apple Bloom and quickly settling in. Like the others, she spread her legs wide, and made sure her tight little ass was perfectly positioned atop the delectable derrieres beneath it. As she snuggled up to her friends, the three fillies met each other's gazes, giggling softly at the reality of the incredibly erotic situation they had found themselves in.

Meanwhile, he stepped back and took a moment to savor the sight of the tower of tushies he had erected upon his couch. Like the chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry scoops of a triple-decker ice cream cone, each one of those asses was downright irresistible on its own, but combined together, they formed a mouthwatering combination that he could hardly resist throwing himself upon like a glutton. Instead, he slowly stepped up to them, reverently brushing aside their lovely tails to reveal the full curvatures of their cheeks. He placed his hands on each pair of buns in turn, squeezing them gently to get a feel for them. Scootaloo's was as firm and tight as it looked, and he briefly wished he had a bit to bounce off of it. Apple Bloom's was impressively muscular, although those dense glutes were wrapped in a layer of feminine plumpness that he eagerly sank his fingers into. As for Sweetie Belle's, he gave those two mountainous marshmallows a deep, firm squeeze, and then, unable to resist, a playful spank, savoring the sound of the squeak she made, and the sight of her cheeks jiggling like gelatin as they settled down.

As much as he would have enjoyed spending hours playing with those asses, and teasing the three pretty pussies just beneath them, he knew from the way the fillies were squirming and bucking their hips reflexively that it was time to move on to the main event. Not wanting to prolong the fillies' suffering any longer, he quickly got down on his knees behind them, bringing his massive cock level with Sweetie Belle's dripping lips. He knew the others might feel jealous of her for being first, but he felt that she had earned that honor; she had been the top seller that week, after all.

Sweetie Belle gasped as she felt the tip of the flared head kiss her lower lips, and moaned as she felt it press firmly against them, slowly forcing its way between them. So massive was that member that she briefly feared her little entrance might not be big enough to accommodate it, yet after a few tense moments, the invader managed to muscle its way past her lips, past her delicate petals, and into her pussy proper. Sweetie Belle let out a long, shuddering moan as she felt her tight, velvety walls stretched to their maximum capacity by the giant cock as it advanced, inch by throbbing inch, deeper into her. She tried in vain to measure the length of it in her mind, but the tingling jolts of pleasure that shot through her brain, and the loud sounds of her own lustful vocalizations, quickly forced her to abandon that endeavor. Instead, she merely lay there, shuddering and moaning, until at last she felt the tip of it press against the entrance to her womb, sighing in relief. To her surprise, and to her thorough arousal, the cock kept going, pushing against her from the inside as it forced the last bit of its length into her. She whimpered in pained pleasure as it hilted, bulging her little belly outwards, then finally fell still. Her breathing was heavy, as if she had just run a mile, and the incomparable ecstasy of being so thoroughly and utterly filled numbed her mind, but not so much that she could not sense when the spear of stallion meat within her began to slowly withdraw.

Apple Bloom was unable to witness the gentle violation of her friend's pussy, but she could clearly hear Sweetie Belle's musical moans, as well as the soft, wet sound of the cock sliding past her lips. She was pretty sure that he had withdrawn from her when Sweetie Belle's rapid whimpers finally ceased, although the spine-tingling feel of his tip, slick with her friend's juices, making contact with her own eager marehood was a dead giveaway. She mentally prepared herself as she felt her lips slowly spread apart, telling herself she had nothing to fear. Sweetie Belle was a delicate flower, she thought, but she was strong and tough; she could handle anything her stud could throw at her. These thoughts were immediately forgotten as his cock forced its way inside of her, the resulting jolt of pleasure eliciting a loud, wailing moan. She continued to moan, as loudly and as whorishly as her friend had, as his cock slowly advanced down her passageway, eventually reaching her womb. As before, his cock did not rest until every inch of its pussy-stretching length had been forced into her, and Apple Bloom moaned as she felt it bulge out her belly. Sweetie Belle moaned in solidarity as she felt that bulge against her back, knowing that her friend was feeling exactly what she had.

Scootaloo had no delusions about her ability to handle their stud's monstrous member. She had heard the sophisticated Sweetie Belle's undignified moans, and felt Apple Bloom's strong body quiver beneath her as he pulled back out. Considering her tiny little body, and considering the titanic tree trunk of a cock that had reduced her friends to quivering messes with a single thrust, she had no doubts who would come out on top in the end. She knew it would ruin her; she knew it might even break her, but being the daredevil she was, she did not flinch from the challenge, not even when she felt his tip press against her pussy. Instead, she threw herself headlong into the mind-blowing ecstasy she knew awaited her, pushing her hips backwards and spearing herself on his stallionhood. She squealed in delight as she felt its great girth stretch her out, and smiled widely as it slowly pushed its way deeper. She held onto her friends for support as she trembled, and filled their ears with grunts and moans, savoring each and every inch. When at last she felt the tip kiss her womb, then make that final push to fully lodge itself within her, she whimpered like a little animal, reveling in the feel of her bulging belly.

He savored the incomparable feeling of the filly's slick, velvety walls as he pulled back out of her, just as he had with her friends. He had no idea what those three had had their holes treated to in the past, but they certainly felt as tight as a blushing bride on her wedding night, despite their shameless moans being enough to have made a whore blush. Scootaloo, like her friends, clenched reflexively around him, every tight squeeze adding fuel to the lustful fire burning in his belly. He was no lightweight, but even he was breathing heavily by the time his cock finally emerged from its third pussy of the night, slathered from base to tip in fresh marecum. Of course, the little teaser his throbbing stallionhood had received had only strengthened its aching hunger, and so he was quickly compelled to continue, getting back down and working his way up the stack of asses once again.

Having allowed the fillies a chance to get acclimated to his great length and girth, he launched into a proper assault on their needy pussies, pistoning his way in and out of them slowly, yet forcefully. It didn't matter how tight they were, or how hard they clamped down on him as he repeatedly booped their wombs, he did not allow his progress to be impeded, or allow the spine-tingling sensations of each dripping honeypot to keep him from moving on to the next one. He made sure that each filly got her fair share of attention, giving each one several good, hard thrusts before quickly cycling to one of her friends. The fillies trembled and panted as their respective pussies were plumbed, but the brief moments of respite they received as they listened to their friends being plowed allowed them to catch their breath and prepare themselves for their next turn as best they could.

Time was meaningless to the four of them as they continued their bestial rutting, just a trio of fertile, fecund mares and their virile stud obeying their most primal instincts. As the seconds slowly ticked by, and their minds were inundated with the ecstasy of their copulation, they willingly surrendered to those base desires, allowing them to dominate their minds and bodies, and drive them ever onwards. His long, slow thrusts gradually grew faster, but lost none of their tremendous power as he pounded his hips against their asses, sending ripples through their soft flesh. Each climactic impact jostled the fillies and rattled their melting brains, and even with his strong hands on their hips to steady them, they still felt as if they were riding the world's wildest roller coaster. The three of them reached out and grasped each other's hands, holding on for dear life as they shared that mind-blowing experience together.

Sweetie Belle was the first to cum. Thanks to the tender ministrations of her friends, the little filly had gotten so worked up prior to the main event that, when they did finally get going, she did not last much time at all. She could feel the moment coming, every rough penetration of her pretty pussy pushing her closer and closer to the edge, until at last she reached the end of her endurance and toppled right over the precipice. The sound of her silken voice spiked as the stream of moans and whimpers flowing from her lips turned to a long, loud shriek. Her body seized, her toes curling and her limbs locking up as they were fried by the waves of pleasure jolting through her. Her lovely horn sparked atop her head, and her pussy clamped down around the cock assaulting her inner keep, spewing marecum like a great geyser. No matter how hard she squeezed, however, that cock did not slow even a bit; it continued to lovingly pound her, not stopping until the rough waves of her climax had finally subsided, whereupon it gently withdrew and allowed the quivering, panting filly a minute to recover.

A short time later, it was Scootaloo's turn. While the filly possessed great physical endurance in a general sense, it did not do her much good against the relentless jackhammering of her marehood. She didn't care though; she wasn't trying to impress anyone. Eager to meet her impending climax, she threw her hips back to meet the thrusts of her stud, smiling widely all the while. As the pleasure slowly built up within her, she felt like a balloon swelling to its bursting point, and when she finally popped, all of that pressure vented itself through a great, explosive orgasm. She screamed long and loud as her body was wracked with pleasure; her limbs spasmed violently and her pretty little wings fluttered as fast as a hummingbird's. Her clenching pussy unleashed a torrent of marecum onto her stud's cock, keeping it well-lubricated as it continued to work her. She savored every second of her long-awaited climax, until at last it subsided, and the studly cock that had given it to her gave her some time to recover.

Apple Bloom, to her credit, lasted longer than her friends, but not by much. Even her powerful body was unable to stand against the sexual onslaught she was receiving for very long. The stormy sea of sensual pleasure raging within her was held back by a great dam of stubborn willpower, but every thrust of the massive cock buried within her further cracked that last defense, and eventually, accompanied by a roar of feminine might, it burst, and the tidal wave it had held back slammed into the filly and instantly consumed her. Her strong limbs clenched, trapping poor Sweetie Belle in a tight bear hug, and her pussy clamped down like a vice around the pillar of fuckmeat within it. Like the eruption of a great volcano, rivers of hot marecum spewed forth from her deepest depths, not stopping until her climactic quakes had subsided into gentle aftershocks, and she went limp as a rag doll. At that point, her stud's cock finally fell still as well, before carefully withdrawing from her tender marehood.

If the freshly fucked fillies thought that their night had come to an end after their squealing, toe-curling orgasms had concluded, they were sorely mistaken. The insatiable stud those three had so arrogantly seduced was still a ways away from his own climax, and was single-mindedly barreling his way towards it, bringing the fillies along for the ride. While he did give each of them some time to recover after cumming their little brains out, he did not dismiss them fully, and eventually returned to pleasure their sensitive pussies once again. Fresh moans and fresh marecum flowed freely as the fillies endured the voracious assault, which seemed to their minds to go on forever. So long did he pound them, growing ever faster and ever fiercer in his movements, that the fillies were eventually treated to yet another round of orgasms just as intense as the first. Apple Bloom came twice before the end, and Sweetie Belle three times. Scootaloo, as if competing for the top prize, managed to get four quivering climaxes from her stud's marebreaker before the night was out.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective, it was around the time he delivered that record-setting orgasm that he felt himself drawing near the finish line himself. While the fresh pleasure that coursed through him with every thrust of his powerful cock into a tight, gushing pussy was minor on its own, like a tiny grain of sand, that sand had gradually built up into a great mountain, the immense weight of which he could practically feel upon his shoulders. He was strong, but his strength was waning fast. He could feel himself being worn down, every clench and every quiver, every squeal and squirm, every twerk and tremble of the three fertile fillies before him pushing him closer and closer to the end. He groped their asses, her grabbed their tails, and he pounded their soft flesh like dough, squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of them that he could. His rapid thrusts accelerated to lighting speed, and he let out a long, low roar like rolling thunder that grew to a booming intensity as he drew back his hips and, with a last herculean thrust, buried every inch of his babymaker into Sweetie Belle's vulnerable pussy.

Sweetie Belle moaned like a mind-broken sex toy as she felt the first burst of hot, sticky spunk splatter against her insides, her vocalization easily overpowered by the triumphant roar of her stud. Pleasure arced across his skin like electricity as his churning balls repeatedly clenched, sending wave after wave of his virile seed rocketing up his length to fill the filly's awaiting oven with his baby batter. Burst after burst spewed forth from his tip, completely drenching her fertile flesh, the flood not stopping until he abruptly yanked back his hips, pulling his cock back out and, in the same fluid motion, plunged it into the next pussy in the stack. Not a single drop was wasted as he rammed himself back into Apple Bloom, depositing his very next burst right at the entrance to her womb. The filly yelped from the sudden hilting, then quivered as she felt herself being filled, her body rewarding her with pleasure for taking her stud's cum like an obedient broodmare. Scootaloo was not spared that primal satisfaction, for as soon as he had finished filling Apple Bloom's pussy, pumping her as full as he had Sweetie Belle, he once again pulled himself from one quivering cunt before thrusting right back into another. Scootaloo squealed as his cock forced itself into her and unloaded the last of its seemingly endless reserves into her depths. As he reached deep, forcing every last drop he still had into her pretty little pussy, he grunted and roared like the alpha male he was, savoring the last few seconds of pleasure that came from dominating his three eager mates.

His mind-blowing climax ended as suddenly as it had begun, his adrenaline-fueled strength waning as his cum tanks were finally emptied. With a heavy sigh of relief, he stumbled backwards on his weary legs, dragging his cock back out of Scootaloo as he went. Exhaustion fell upon him like a heavy blanket, nearly sending him down onto his knees, but he managed to reach out and grab onto his sturdy desk, using it to steady himself. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths came fast and heavy, and his muscled body was slathered in sweat. His slowly softening cock, its every inch coated by a mixture of the fillies' love juices and his own, tingled and twitched, still sensitive from its intense workout. He rested there for a minute while he waited for the stars to leave his eyes and for the dense haze of lust to clear from his mind.

When the strength had returned to his limbs, he turned back to look upon the forms of his beloved employees, smiling with satisfaction at the sight of his seed leaking from all three of their freshly fucked pussies, slowly tricking down their backsides like a waterfall of molasses. He approached them, peering down at their sweaty, disheveled faces. He saw that Scootaloo had passed out from exhaustion, and that the other two were drifting off as well, yet all three of them had weary, drooly smiles on their faces. He chuckled softly, reaching out and gently caressing each filly's head.

Being the tidy stallion that he was, it took Davenport only a short time to clean up after the fillies' "modeling practice". Before long, he was once again dressed in his spiffy work attire, having done his best to towel off his soiled body. Recognizing that the fillies would not be going anywhere in their current state, he carefully disassembled the tower they formed and laid their limp, sweaty bodies down lengthwise on the couch, resting their heads upon a large pillow. Even in sleep, the fillies seemed to recognize each other's comforting presence, as they groggily snuggled up together and nuzzled their faces together. He smiled at their wholesome affection, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on each filly's forehead, before covering the three with a warm blanket.

"Sleep tight, girls," Davenport whispered.

After leaving his spare set of keys behind for the fillies, and dimming the office's lights to a level appropriate for soothing sleep, Davenport quietly made his exit. After turning off the showroom's lights and locking up, he began his walk home, moseying down the now-dark streets of Ponyville.

As he walked, Davenport chuckled to himself. He recalled a time just a short while ago that he had felt so utterly bored with his humble little Quills and Sofas. He thought to himself that his life had certainly become much less boring in that short time, and he imagined that things would only get more interesting in the days to come.