In the Size of the Beholder

Pinkie’s morning streams were always well attended. That’s when her balls were at their fattest and most enticing, filled to the brim from the brief nightly break in the otherwise non-stop orgasm that was her life. Given that the overactive cumfactories between her legs could produce lakes at the drop of a hat—and much, much more if she actually tried—seeing what extremes the vivacious pony might reach after hours of abstaining had become something of an Event.

“Good morning, Ponyville!” Pinkie said, her face filling the screen and transmitting her infectious smile across the airwaves. “Ready for another day of having fun, sex, and otherwise making a mess of the place?”

The lens struggled to capture all of her, even as she held the phone out for a wider shot. There was a lot of Pinkie to capture. Her cleavage, for one, didn’t seem to end; her breasts, as enormous as they were shapely, hung past her hips, dominating her torso entirely behind their marshmallowy curves. Then there were her thighs, plump and enticing, leading up to one of the most famous (and thicc’est!) rears in all of Hyperquestria. Both of these, Pinkie managed to overcome by switching to the front-facing camera and filming herself in the mirror; but no amount of trickery or enthusiasm could fully capture the enormity that hung between her legs: a dusky pink sheath so fat and massive that it almost touched the ground, wider than Pinkie herself and half as long.

“Uh uh! Houston, we have a problem!” Pinkie giggled, giving it a little wiggle. “Well. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

She moved her phone to and fro, trying a few more angles. If anything, she documented just how freely she moved despite what should have been a debilitating weight, between her legs and everywhere else. Her sheath propped up her boobs, and seemed ever so slightly larger every time the camera focused anew. Her balls, meanwhile, sat squarely on the floor behind her, so big that all the viewers could hope to see was a solid wall of pink scrotum. No green-screen for Pinkie Pie, she had her own! (And, once she really got going, had one for everyone else, too).

“Huh. Not really getting anywhere, are we?” she said, speaking over the gurgling noise emanating from her bloated cumtanks. “Why don’t you grab the camera, Pinkie?”

“Sure!” an identical voice chimed in, as the phone changed hands and, in case there was any doubt, a second Pinkie briefly stuck her face into view, gleefully greeting the audience, before going back to filming.

“Much better! Now we’ve got space to unleash the party cannon,” the first Pinkie said.

“There’s never enough space to unleash the party cannon.”

“So we’ll make space. Like always,” she said, grinning. “Who needs walls, anyway?”

It was not clear on the video feed if Pinkie was even inside at this point; her mirror had vanished and the only visible background was her ball sack; and given the little detail that could be made out, it looked too big to fit inside even a palace, anyway, several stories tall and still audibly bloating with every passing moment. Her sheath expanded in little, creaking bursts as well, though not near enough to keep up. Not until Pinkie laid both hands on it and started to knead.

“Ooh. Here we go,” she called out as the tip of her wide, pulsing pony penis pushed into view, slowly parting the delicate wrinkles of her sheath as it unspooled several feet of glistening girlcock. Then a few feet more. And more. And more…

“Yay! Let’s do it!” the other Pinkie cried, her own burgeoning erection invading the frame from below, too big to hide.

A third cock followed abruptly, from a hitherto off-screen Pinkie, giggling indulgently as she frotted her fattening fuckrod against the other two in frame. Three. Four. Five.

“Are you with me, Ponyville?” Pinkie called, laughing as she threw her phone back to another of her selves, pulling back to show the growing pile of identical ponies—or more accurately, the all-dominating parade of pink penises trying their hardest to cram together and only ending up growing faster from the pleasurable close contact.

“C’mon, let’s do it all together! Count down and cum, everyone! First orgasm of the day hitting in five, four, three, two…”