“What the… WHO’S DROOLING ALL OVER THE FLOOR AGAIN?!” an irritated baker called out within Sugarcube Corner. Mrs. Cake lifted her hoof to inspect the sticky substance more closely, while the earth pony mare set the plate she was carrying down to observe the shop's floor.
The messy liquid formed a trail on the wooden floorboards throughout most of the place, the trail seemingly ending in a large pool right in front of the cash register.
The line of ponies also looked down to where the motherly baker was gazing, their reactions audible with sounds of surprise, confusion and other comments, which broke the silence that had followed Mrs. Cake’s exclamation of anger.
Most of the ponies hadn’t been able to look down at the floor, given how packed the place was during the morning rush hour. Therefore, many simply assumed that they’d been stepping in syrup and other crumbs that hadn’t been fully cleaned up from the previous day's holiday chaos.
“Pinkie Pie! Get out here and clean up this mess!” The work day had only just started, and the blue earth pony wasn’t in the mood for any surprise inconveniences before her husband had even returned with her morning coffee.
Outside the shop's doors, a shadowy figure could be seen flying off with a bag filled with sweets and other products from the shop. The unknown figure had a massive blush on their snout from the embarrassing scene they’d left behind after having paid. Reflecting on it, the fleeing Pegasus remembered that among the other customers, Spike, Cheerilee, Tornado Bolt, and Apple Bloom were present amidst the many faces they had seen.
“That’s the third time this week this has happened,” Pinkie commented to nopony specific, while she mopped the floor and cleaned up any leftover crumbs she could find. While the previous two instances seemed mild, this time the mysterious culprit hadn’t just left small drops but a thick trail of the substance all over their humble shop and home.
“I mean, at least we know they like your products,” Apple Bloom reassured the pink baker, standing at the front of the line and right in the middle of the large pool Pinkie was trying to mop up. Though sticky, they could at least tell that the pony had good hygiene, with the trail leaving a slightly fresher and down to earth scent behind. However, this freshness wasn’t the type Cheerilee or Spike would associate with. To them, it had a more primal nature, with Spike recalling the scent of Shining when he visited, and Cheerilee thinking about how her husband, Big Mac, smelled, though both would agree with the yellow mares point, as both stallions were rather clean and hygienic in nature.
*****
Outside Ponyville city, flying over the vast Apple Acre monoculture forests and land, was a suspicious-looking Pegasus. The cloak they wore concealed their identity, ensuring no one would recognize them while on the move, unless, of course, someone had seen them buying the goods. They landed in front of a large barn with a small house attached. Upon opening the front door, they trotted in, and were greeted by a mare inside who welcomed them with open arms and a hug.
“Did you get the bagels I asked for, honey?”
“I did... but I ended up making a mess again,” the embarrassed Pegasus said as they removed their large cloak, which now seemed unnecessary with the clear sky and the morning sunlight of a Tuesday shining through the freshly cleaned windows.
“It’s not your fault, okay,” Babs Seed reassured her partner of three years, comforting Featherweight as his ever-growing and troublesome anatomy had once again caused a scene at Sugarcube Corner, not that anypony had noticed he was the culprit, luckily.
“So, my solution yesterday didn’t work then, huh?” A glance from her soulmate was all the confirmation she needed, with Featherweight leaning further into the hug. The lack of a mess right beneath him though suggested that the cold flight home at least fixed the problem for now. With the wooden floor staying none-sticky for the next hour at most.
“Listen, let's eat breakfast first, and then I’ll show you something that might fix your little leak,” Babs cheered him on, the two gathering their bags and walking to the kitchen table. With the sunrise enveloping the small home in warmth and light, a serene peace settled upon the two ponies. Babs indulged in the expensive yet delightful treats, relishing them like there was no tomorrow. Feather simply watched, content in his wife's happiness, knowing that was all that mattered to him at that moment, especially after their struggles to convince Granny Smith to let them have the barn and small house.
“Alright, enough relaxing, we have to address your issue before I head out for apple bucking and you start your work as a journalist in a few hours,” Babs stated, rising from her wooden chair. Feather took care of the dishes while Babs sorted out her attire. Being an outsider to the Apple Family compared to many of its other members, Babs always went all in to fit in. For her, it meant wearing a band in her tail and exchanging her everyday shoes for more suitable apple bucking ones.
Babs came down from the first floor, looking as beautiful as ever, with the Pegasus following his cute wife out to the barn. “You know, Granny Smith is only letting us stay here while we pull our weight to help out the farm with coins,” Babs remarked, making her way to a big machine at the back of the barn, passing caskets filled with apples on the way.
“Yeah, you were completely exhausted during the first week of apple bucking, your hind legs were so sore... I had to massage your legs each evening for hours,” Featherweight reminisced, recalling those evenings where he helped his fiance, at the time, earn the bits needed to ensure she could live with him in Ponyville. Babs had wanted to move in with him here, but the housing prices had forced them to accept Granny’s offer for them to live on her land. In exchange they had promised to fulfil certain conditions she’d set up for them, bringing in enough bits had been one of them.
“And you better keep it up... can’t imagine life without those amazing hooves of yours now that you've introduced me to them,” Babs spoke up, trying to assert dominance over her husband. It was easier when they were in bed and laying, of course, as when they stood side by side, Feather was a good head taller than herself, the Pegasus towering above her.
“You know I’d never leave you in distress,” he responded, leaning in to give her a small kiss on the mouth. Feeling a mix of defeat and being cherished, Babs Seed looked away, feeling a blush spread across her face, finding his perfection both endearing and exasperating.
“Anyway, we need to meet the profit quota she’s set... and I was thinking we could tackle two problems with one solution here.” Babs opened some windows, allowing the morning light to illuminate the machine. From what Featherweight could discern, the machine seemed to be a piece left behind by the Apple Family when they had moved to their current house.
“A milking machine, but we don’t have the coin to hire any cows for milking,” Feather argued. Even the main family only owned a few cows at all times, a dozen when the holiday seasons hit, but never more, most of the production barely met the demands of the bakeries in town. This large, eye-catching machine had three sets of suction cups leading to a container that funnelled the white liquid into a chosen container size.
“True, but I have no intention of milking cows, not now, not ever.” Babs approached the machine, the earth pony examining it closely, as if studying it for a final exam. Finally, the silence was broken as the orange beauty began to dismantle the device before him. Feather settled himself on a hay bale, leaning back to try and decipher her intentions with it.
“Perfect, just the right size for you,” Babs Seed mumbled to herself as she removed the main cylinder where the three tubes for the sets of suction cups converged before the container. She modified it so that only one set of suction cups remained attached, blocking off the other two with bolts. As she finished, Featherweight scrutinised the newly modified machine. One of the smaller tubes had been connected to the main container, and the large cylinder now sat at the end, seemingly ready to accommodate an overgrown cow nipple, or even a set of them all at once if one squeezed hard enough.
“For me? But I’m not a cow, Babs?” Feather voiced his confusion as his mate approached, one hoof raised. She clasped his ear, dragging her bemused mate along. Not in the mood for his barrage of questions, Babs secured him into the machine's restraints before he could protest further, rendering the stallion’s legs immobile.
“Babs, I trust you completely, but could you at least hint at what you’re planning?” the now slightly panicking Pegasus inquired, the restraints on his legs hindering any escape from the imposing milking machine, which seemed more menacing than ever now that he was closer.
“Listen, Feather, your apples have been swelling ever since we got married. It’s clear they're reacting to me and the earthy scent I carry from working in the fields all day. So, we need to drain them through your stallionhood udder, or you’ll be leaking all day, every day,” Babs explained, pointing out a small drip that had started again below his brown tail.
Finding himself tongue-tied, Babs simply proceeded without his confirmation. She lifted his tail and started massaging his leaking mancave. As it emerged, just small enough to fit into the device, she gently slipped it on until the suction cup had secured itself onto his flesh. The stallion shook slightly, feeling like he was being treated like a feral animal. One kiss on the cheek later, Babs turned on the device.
"Ep!" Feather squealed, feeling the sudden pressure on his flesh as the device worked tirelessly to pump the foal batter from his average sized member.
"There, that's not so bad, now is it?" She stroked his neck, his wings fluttering in response to the novel and peculiar sensation. Her nibbling on his neck caused his wings to snap to full attention, the two large, feathery beauties blocking out the sunrise. Babs took his wings unfolding as sufficient response and cranked the machine up to maximum strength.
"AUGH!" Featherweight screamed, his front hooves buckling from all the shivering, the now restrained stallion with his rump raised high. Looking over at Babs for help, he found her enjoying the scene from a reclined position not far from his muzzle.
"I see you're enjoying yourself," she said, blowing him a kiss as she allowed the machine to continue its work. Tears filled his eyes from the strange sensation; it reminded him of what Babs had done with her mouth the previous night, yet her soft and tender skills paled in comparison to the machine's brutal and straightforward method of extracting the white essence from within Featherweights overgrown fruits.
The first spurt of white emerged, quickly followed by a second, the stallion feeling as though the machine was extracting it from him in a way he had never experienced before. The cow milker continued its operation for what seemed like an eternity, the soul within it having to endure until either the machine or Babs deemed his contribution sufficient. Tears streamed down his cheeks and into the hay below. The only comfort Feather found in those opening minutes was a thick stick from Babs which he could bite onto, but the tears dried up when Feather adjusted himself to the sensation of being milked like a feral cow.
With the last drop of white leaving him, a ding echoed from the machine. Babs Seed stood up and walked over to check the container she had placed in the machine. Now, the farmer knew that the machine could be used in this manner, seeing as this practice was also something that the elderly Granny Smith did at her farmhouse on Big Mac.
"What a perfect cow you are, Feather," Babs said, yet her words barely registered with the stallion as he was still trying to calm his frazzled nerves, the machine popping off him as his stallionhood decreased in size and retracted back into his sheath. Inside one of the smallest containers available was close to an entire litre of high-quality stallion milk. She had milked him once yesterday, so the amount he produced was baffling; no wonder he was leaking.
"Is my… Is my problem fixed now?" Featherweight managed to say, his voice unsteady as he was still catching his breath from the unexpected milking session his wife had initiated.
"For today, yes." Her gaze didn’t stray from the container as she responded.
"TODAY?! You mean this has to be done regularly?" Feather exclaimed, struggling against the restraints only to realise the steel was constructed to hold much stronger forces. Noting her husband's frantic movements, she sat his essence down and walked over to calm him down, the stallion only relaxing himself as she made him relax his head on her shoulder, Featherweight doing the same as he loved being close to his mate.
"As long as you keep those productive nuggets, then yes, I’ll be milking you every morning. If you yield as much as I anticipate, we can sell half a litre daily to Mrs. Granny Smith for a handsome profit." Feather slowly absorbed the implications of her words, seeing the benefits of this arrangement for earning coin. While he didn’t fully understand Granny's intentions, he still found it sensible. However, while solving his problem, he contemplated which of Babs' issues it solved. Meeting his gaze, she saw the question as if she could read his mind
"The other problem it- it’s my cutie mark, Featherweight. I am a barber, not a farmer."
"And you believe by selling my... uh, foal batter, you won't have to buck anymore." It was more of an observation than a question. Feather could discern her intentions from the longing in her eyes. Having composed himself, Babs released the restraints and allowed him out of the machine.
“Now fly off to do your job, and in the meantime I’ll go tell Granny about your… not so Pegaus like qualities.” Babs spoke, the product in her hooves suggesting that Feather was, by sweet Celestia, either a draft pony or a freaking shire horse from how over productive he was for a Pegasus pony. Using his wings to get to and from work had been a blessing, as the steps out to the front yard to fly off had been some of the most difficult ones he’d made in his entire life.
…..
He returned home after the sun had dipped below the horizon, his work had carried him all over the region to any number of events across the region which his employer required him to investigate and report on. Inside the kitchen window he saw Babs dance about, the mare moving her flank about in a tantalising manner. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but had little doubt that she was singing along to a new song from Coloratura's new album.
“You’re back, how did your day go… no leaking I hope?” Babs concerned was cute, the smaller pony not sure what to do if the new milking plan didn’t work out.
“Went like a charm, didn’t leak one bit throughout the entire shift.” Feather said with a cheer, his wife jumping into his embrace, the apple pie behind her thankfully having gotten out of the oven before she’d forgotten all about it.
“How did it go with Granny Smith?”
“She was impressed, and said she’d accept one load every other day of the month. She said that the clinics she sends it off to can only receive so much, though with another stud to think about, she was considering also selling it to the highest bidder, will that be enough?” She pondered, while Feather hadn’t started leaking yet, she was almost certain that he would start doing so before the next milking session would come around.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, and if not, then I’ve got a lovely wife I can count on.” The cheeky line earned him a punch to the shoulder, as he made his mate giggle and blush.
Grumble! Her eyes grew wide as she heard his stomach growl, both promptly turning their attention back onto the food, the two eating fast so they could cash in on his ‘romantic’ statement. The pie was the same quality as always, a top class pie any Apple Family member would be proud of.
I guess my problem ended up having its positives, huh.” Feather spoke.
“Indeed it did, guess your unfixable leak wasn’t so bad after all… but I think you should still go and apologise to Mr. and Mrs. Cake for spreading your musky pre all over their bakery,” Babs added, the two laughing at the surreal feel of their new money maker. The heat from his foal makers reminded Feather that this wasn’t gonna be over soon, far from it he thought, feeling his flare poke out ever slightly to leak.
Author's Note
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