Spray on the Sand

by Incandesca

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Fetish, Princess Luna, Mrs. Cake, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Porn
Length: 4772

Cupcake's dissatisfaction with her husband, and a rightly-timed letter lead her to the loins of a certain Evening Princess.

Cupcake's a good wife. She cooks, she bakes, she cleans, she loves.

Carrot's a good husband. He cares, he supports, he helps with the foals. Except he doesn't love, not in the way that she wants.

Her needs, and a rightly-timed letter by the Princess of Night herself, leads the small town bakery mare to some very royal loins. And as a bonus, she won't need to buy milk anymore once she's done.

Contains: Female/Futa, Cowplay, Impregnation, Growth, Excessive Sizes, Squirting, Lactation, Crotchtits, & Infidelity

Prompt: Mrs. Cake, Futa Princess Luna as the only participants. Please no Mr. Cake present at all. Preferably impregnation/cheating involved, though is optional. I like mating press or full nelson, use of alicorn magic, and/or ponut/crotchteats fetish if you're looking for what I enjoy in addition to the regular prompt. Preferences though certainly not necessary for the story.

This story was written for Omegathyst for the 2024 Summer Sin Celebration. Thanks to Shakespearicles for organizing.

Published 2024-07-07 20:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-07 20:20:00 UTC

Milk, Cakes, and Coconuts

The little bat scurried around her, hoofsteps ringing short against the black marble floor. "You should be honored," she chirped, in a voice half a squeak. The smile on her pleasantly gray, purple-tinged face revealed more of her prominent fangs. Cupcake had never seen a thestral before, though she heard a couple guards of them had pulled Princess Luna into Ponyville for Nightmare Night some years back.

"W-well yes, of course I am, but-"

"But?"

Cupcake flushed, burning her bright blue fur a deep cinnamon red. Her cheeks, up to the tips of her ears and - embarrassingly - the mound of her loins, rose to oven-esque temperatures. To demonstrate, she lifted her back right leg.

"Ahhhhh." The diminutive mare, Constella, nodded. "Yes, ah, Mother Night certainly has her... tastes."

Now, it came turn for Constella to blush, nodding at the cowprint thigh high. With the dark tone of her fur, it more deepened than it went red.

"I suppose she does. I hope she'll, ahem. 'Enjoy me'."

The beaming, fanged smile returned with a vengeance. Cupcake swore she witnessed the light of mischievous glee pass through Constella's eyes.

"Believe me, she will. Mother Night has her types, and golly do you meet all of them. Besides, she's seen you before. She's gonna be all over you, I know it!"

As Constella zipped back to make additional adjustments, fastenings, last minute measurements, Cupcake reflected on the bat's words. Like it were yesterday, her mind reeled backwards in time to the afternoon she received the letter. She recalled it word for eloquent, vulgar, spine-tingling word.

Misses Cake,

Through a friend of a friend, I have learned of you. You should know her well, a particular pink party pony within your home. She has divulged details about you to me, details which I must say, are highly intriguing.

Do not be alarmed. I assure no information has left lips beyond my chamber's walls. Indeed, it is my intention with this address that might change.

I know of your life. I kno of your love, once strong and passionate as the flames of early romance often are. Yet yours have dwindled, down to ash and embers from the failing loins of a disinterested father, and lackluster husband.

Thusly, I offer to you a solution, for I have seen your pictures. I have ingrained in my mind the boasting swell of your curves, grown and fostered to matriarchal proportions. The lines of maturity have creased your features well, in the pleasant way that all ponies hope for themselves.

You are a special mare, of a variety I wish much to indulge. Be that indulgence, my companion, for once a week, and you shall receive pleasures beyond your imaginings. You will walk through the halls of the Royal Palace itself, and fill your belly with meals the finest chefs of the realm can produce.

Most vitally, you shall receive the gift of Our loins. Your urges shall be satisfied, and I will with gleeful abandon ravage your every lurid fuckhole until my well-drenched alicorn cock has glued each shut. You will grow fat and pregnant with my seed, and I will suck dry the cream that spurts from your tits. And, when I have finished with you for a night, you shall plead for more. It is inevitable.

As additional gratuity, your family will receive a great boon from my personal coffers. You may consider it a gift, freely given as thanks for your services.

Ponder this proposal, and write back when you have decided. If I receive no word by week's end, I shall presume your answer.

Royal regards,
Princess Luna

Attached to the parchment, in highly professional detail, hung Luna's huge, drooping, ebony-blue shaft.

Cupcake sent her reply that night.

It had been a simple decision. A decision so simple, in fact, the pang of guilt chose randomly, unexpectedly, to stab at her gut in the most unsuspecting moments. The knife of betrayal sliced down to her marrow, whispering those forbidden, taboo words - cheater, adulterur, covetous. Excitement and sheer momentum pushed her onwards.

Now, she stood here, in one of the Princess' changing rooms. She had not met the Princess herself quite yet. Instead, the tiny thestral Constella buzzed around her, getting her ready.

When she saw the cowprint, she didn't know how to feel. Now that the stockings clung to her full thighs, the garterbelt held it in place with black bows, thong rubbed into the deep groove of her puffy marecunt, she still did not know. It did confirm one thing - the Princess of the Night was a pervert. Then again, the letter and its attached image had spelled that out enough already.

"Few more things before we're done here," Constella said. "I'll be back soon!" She dipped out the room for a moment, and left Cupcake to silence.

She used the opportunity to gaze around her. The room boxed her in, equi-distant on all sides, not that much larger than any ordinary changing room. The walls, floor, and ceiling, each carved from the same spotless black marble, glowed with a soft, unseen lightsource.

Initially stepping in, she'd wondered where the mirror was. Constella happily touched an indent near the door with her hoof, and as though it had always been there, the familiar reflective surface seemed to rise out from the black stone like magic. She imagined real magic too; nothing else could explain it otherwise, least not the way it reminded her of an object breaching water.

She approached the door, and placed her hoof to the same spot. Looking over her shoulder, she watched the mirror overtake the back wall.

She flushed again, darker and hotter. Rare, almost never did she get the chance to see herself from the outside. Rarer from this point of view, displaying her body in whole rather than part.

Cupcake knew ponies liked her. Once or twice, she heard what sounded like 'milf' used in reference to her, by stallions and mares and those inbetween or outside who thought she couldn't hear. Sometimes she heard them in the street, or at restaurants, or in stores. Sometimes her own bakery.

She never did figure out what the word meant. She'd been meaning to ask Pinkie for some time, but never got around to the matter.

Personally, Cupcake didn't get it. Her ass was fat, so wide she'd nearly got it wedged in the smaller doorframes of her home. Teats so huge and saggy the nipples, elongated from months of nursing, reached down to her hocks. They wobbled and swayed, gently slapping the adipose-riddled trunks of her thighs, faint stretch marks visible beneath the fur. Her belly matched the same, as with her face, pudgey and soft, plump and defined by a life of many sweets and little activity. It didn't make sense why ponies would find her alluring; didn't they tend to go for the young skinny types?

Pinkie had the start of what she had, and her rambunctious youth could only hold the tide of weight at bay for so long. If she did ever have children - and she'd spoken of it dreamily many times in the past - Cupcake imagined she'd look very similar to her some day. When and if she did, Cupcake wondered if Luna might fix her interest on Pinkie over her, too old for anyone at all to want around.

"Hm," she sighed, and clopped from one end of the space to the other, observing her features with a keen eye. Once, decades ago, she'd been young. Once, she paid mind to her reflection with the same scrutiny she now payed to recipes and rising doughs. She took that old habit, and applied it here.

"I suppose I haven't aged terribly. I wonder if..."

Her pussy winked. She felt her clitoris push out from the folds of her vagina, throbbing warm in the cool air, and suddenly had the great urge to be mounted. At the same time her nipples ached, and she whined at the desire of them.

"No, no. That's a silly idea. So embarrassing. You would never."

She tried holding her gaze in the mirror. She attempted laxing her posture, and tucking her swirly pink tail down to cover her slickened shame.

Other drives won out.

She had to see. Or, at least, that's what she told herself. She had to get a perspective, see if it all made sense. If she really did still 'have it'.

With practiced, easy motions, Cupcake lowered her barrel. She laid her forehooves flat, pressed half her belly to the ground, and stuck her ass in the air.

Knocking hips side to side in small, calming sweeps, she hiked her tail. Finally she glanced back, lidding her eyes, and gave the mirror her best old mare's attempt at a sultry, kissing pout. The only thing she found herself wanting, some pink makeup to match her hair and a bit of eyeliner.

"Damn," she breathed. This time, the need to touch herself became too much. She reached out with a hoof to rub the half-erect cap of her teat until it turned diamond. "No wonder those boys keep coming in to help."

A tight flash of anger sparked, then passed from her chest. They were friendly enough, and never made rude comments or made her feel uncomfortable. She'd always known they orbited her for attraction anyways. The only difference now was that she understood why. That or they were gay. She caught them looking at each other more often than her.

A second flash, a surge rushed up her throat. This one, she couldn't push down, nor would she have wanted to.

Carrot was a good stallion. He cared, he provided for the foals, helped in the kitchen. He did all the things a proper husband should do.

Except be her lover.

Her libido had never gone away. Nor, with age, had it diminished. In truth, with the utter lack of sexual attention he paid her, the itch got worse.

She could manage it most, if not all days. She didn't hump the bed or ride a dildo like some teenage hussy in heat. She didn't hoof herself off every late night alone, whispering the names of lovers past and imagined. Though she did often want to do those things, granted, but the resilience of feminine sexuality reduced her aches from a need to a very, very strong want.

She talked to him about it, a few months back. She didn't want it to harm their relationship. She wanted to be a good wife, and not stray from the faithful path.

Instead, he'd dismissed her. Worse, however, than that?

"With how old we are?" He gestured more at her than himself. "It's hard for me to get in the mood."

She wanted to slap him. Spit in his face maybe, or merely storm off in a silent rage. Let him stupidly try to figure out in that dull-witted stallion's brain of his what he'd done and said to piss her off.

She chose to smile, sorrowfully, say she understood, and walked off with hidden tears in her eyes.

He didn't fuck her anymore, not because he couldn't get it up, but because he didn't find her attractive. He didn't find her attractive, the mare he'd married and had children with, when other ponies gave her compliments, eyed her flanks, whispered under their breaths.

It was insulting. Infurating now that she could see herself properly. She still had the stuff, but because of a few stretch marks, fat rolls, and age lines, he thought she'd gotten 'too old'. His tastes were just too refined for that, apparently.

Well buck him. And buck her guilt. She knew why she penned that response so fast, and she'd do it again if she could, furiously jilling herself numb to the image of Luna's ebony blue maremeat.

"Oh! My bad-"

Cupcake's heart sputtered. In a jolt she shot to her hooves, rapidly slamming her tail between her legs and pushing her hinds together so hard and fast they squished under the painful pressure.

Constella's face took on an abyssal tone, slitted eyes wide and dilated. She smiled half-awkwardly, trying to avoid the sight burnt into her mind. She'd brought another article of cowprint clothes - bra, looked like - and multiple cow-themed accessories.

"I am so sorry," Cupcake blurted. "I didn't hear you coming."

Squeaking, a subtle rumbling trill chirped out through Constella's throat. "N-no worries!" She fell quiet, shuffling on her tiny hooves. It could've been called jittery, if not plain old anxious. She turned her head, but snuck glances of Cupcake's backside once in a moon.

Cupcake felt the need to explain. "I was... trying to get a look at myself in the mirror. It's been a long time since I've had suitors, and I've..." She gulped, closing her eyes. "Struggled with my own self-confidence."

"I think you look lovely." Constella's voice rang out closer than expected. "Very lovely, in fact."

Before Cupcake knew what was happening, four prominent points nipped the flesh of her dock. She yipped but stayed still, instinctively raising her tail to let Constella in. Perhaps she'd forgotten to do one last fitting on the panties or-

"O-ohhhhh," Cupcake moaned. Her legs shook, quaked as warmth, heat, and suckling wetness traveled lower.

She never knew thestral tongues got so long.

"And I just step through... that?" Feebly, she motioned at the ovoid waygate before her. The strength hadn't returned after multiple squirting orgasms, nor would it for some time.

She wondered if it was intentional. If Luna had ordered Constella to 'tenderize the meat', so to speak.

No, she should really give herself more credit. The whole event happened too sudden to be planned. Constella just... liked her. Somepony could like her and love her body in wonderful ways not for polite reasons, assuaging affirmations, but because they actually found her enticing.

"Yep yep!" Constella, dressed in her own slutty prench maid's outfit, hopped from one of four hooves to the other. It seemed nothing dragged down that girl's energy. Like Pinkie, if Pinkie's antics came from quiet nerves rather than loud bombast. "She'll be waiting on the other side, all for you." Constella winked.

Cupcake glanced away before she blushed. She settled her eyes on the portal's display, considering. She supposed it made sense for Luna's ideal summer vacation to be at nighttime, but the concept of 'fun in the Summer Moon' struck her as strange.

Either way, she had a Princess to meet.

And bed.

So, now was not the time for her Sun-leaning bias. Night could probably offer more interesting things and ilicit activities. Day was for the nice and polite folk, some harboring secret dreary lives like herself. Night was for the wild, the complicated, the rambunctious.

The kind that could make her feel young again.

She took a step forward. The portal's surface shifted like a shimmer, ripples passing through like water. She glanced at Constella. "Aren't you coming?"

"Nope! I'll be in the Mother's chambers cleaning."

"I thought you were involved in this. Wasn't it a threesome?" She waved at the maid outfit.

"Oh I will be," Constella giggled. "Don't you worry. Now quit asking questions and get your hot milf butt through that portal!"

The bat mare jumped up. Flaring her wings she leapt forward, pushing Cupcake's rump with her front hooves. The soft padding made the impact light, and sent her stumbling through.

The other side hit her like a wall. Or more accurately, slapped her in the face with a hot, wet towel. Humidity so high it thickened the air to liquid seeped in her fur, pulling out the first sheen of fresh sweat in seconds.

"Oh... dear." Cupcake tugged on the golden cowbell fastened to her neck, bringing it to stop. Her scalp tingled, and the hair, she swore, got both denser and lighter. Frizzier, she guessed.

Gazing behind, the portal displayed the view where she'd come from. The same floor, the same walls, the same ceiling. Everything save Constella. She didn't know if that meant she left, or the portal didn't show creatures, only objects.

She turned her head through the sluggish warmth. A million, billion varieties of critter cheeped, shrieked, and chattered in her ears, buried far off deep in the tropics ahead. The air carried a sense of weight to it, of presence, and filled her lungs with the scent of loam and seashore.

It wasn't an enclosed building she stepped into, nothing like the Palace. She'd expected at first, before seeing the portal, to lock limbs with Luna in her bedroom. The early July heatspike had different plans, and evidently the Princess of the Night wanted her for a touch of summertime loving.

Cupcake wouldn't complain. The heat made her horny.

That was less of a boon in the bakery. Good thing she wasn't there right now, right?

The wooden platform sat atop pale white sand, a boardwalk with no bay to overhang. Tiki torches lit the way about every ten hooves, leading her down the various straight angles and sharp turns.

She came to the end, finding a brilliant aqua pool glowing of its own enchanted power and glittering from the Moonlight. She spotted a selection of roomy deck chairs, round stone tables with curved benches, their umbrellas folded down, and two closed stalls that looked like they'd pass out drinks or supplies. In all of it, she saw no Luna.

She took a step forward. The air shifted inscrutably, tickling her coat like pegasus feathers, and she did.

Princess Luna, in unadorned, naked glory, leant back against a chair to the upper left. One foreleg draped across the arm, the other holding a drink of some kind. Her mane, pulled back in a high ponytail, moved with an ethereal grace, oscillating like reflections of light at the bottom of shallow water. Horn lit, eyes elsewhere, she hadn't noticed Cupcake's entrance.

It gave her time to drink in the sight. Luna's tall frame, handsome and beautiful in equal parts, slender legs and muscles with the barely-there whisper of promised violence. Warrior as much as damsel. Then from there, hips blossoming out to 'matriarchal' proportions similar to her own, but looking far larger on the Princess' significant frame. By the wide splay of her thighs, Cupcake could well reason Luna packed a good deal of plushness in her lower half as well.

Her eyes, even distracted, froze her to the spot. They transfixed her, two fierce, bold, intelligent eyes that shone with intelligent contemplation, as equal to the brightness and blue of the pool itself. Cupcake could also go on about her natural facial beauty, but...

The other thing.

The image she'd seen on the letter. The object that haunted her dreams. The thing that fucked her brain and stirred up her thoughts, until the idea of having it in the flesh rattled her biology screaming into the estrus' abyss.

She whimpered. An involuntary spasm wracked her pussy, and a fine line of lubricant slipped out from her lips. With an accidental scuff of her hindleg, the bridge swayed and stuck itself glued to her inner thigh.

All hers. For all of tonight. All of that beastly, meaty, greedy thing. The tumescent pole that wanted to barge down her gates, flood them with white, and pump her tum full of babies.

Years of repressed sexuality boiled to the surface. A violent animal hunger she didn't know she had roared out of the pot, and flipped off her mental controls one by one.

Her pupils went huge. Her mouth fell slack, tongue hung out, maw drooled openly. Her tits ached, her bits ached, her cunny soaked and her nostrils flared, blowing steam when she'd gotten in the right smells.

Musk. Virile. Healthy. Stud. Potent and heady and fogging her mind. It beat out the other scents, driving them into the background, and poured down her nose like Luna's crotch was mashed against her snout.

She galloped.

Luna got a couple seconds to see the beast before it hit. And then ,just like that, she was on her.

Cupcake didn't bother with pretenses. Nothing held her back. If Luna wanted her off, she was an alicorn. She could make it happen.

Wrapping her hooves around the massive fucklog, Cupcake hugged herself against the core. It pulsed, rigid underneath but soft on the outside and bumpy with thick veins. She pulled it in, down, angling the flare at her mouth to pray and worship.

The attempt at foreplay, kissing and licking, devolved into choking and gagging. She slobbered across it, dragging her tongue over each milimeter of midnight marecock, sucking down sweat and liquid musk that twinkled on dark cock like starlight. By the time she finished cleaning, she'd swallowed a small galaxy. Constellations of spit took its place.

She panted, shovelling the breath into her lungs and out again, heaping it over the humidity to raise the temperature. Even when the moment passed, when her chest's rocking motions slowed to a roll, she couldn't keep herself off the monster - the leviathan. She clutched the pillar close, grinding her upper half against the pulsing thing.

"Eager, I see." Luna smiled, lidding her eyes. A hint, a flicker of that predatory sexcreature from the end of her letter danced inside them, but didn't surface. She reached down to cup her chin, tilting it so their gazes met. "Tis a pleasure, Mrs. Cake. I have dreamed of you many dreams. Would you like to hear the details?"

She nodded dumbly.

"There is a reason for the state of your dress," Luna stated simply. The knock on her cowbell, and the resulting clung that followed, served as punctuation. "But in my dream, you were far more than this. So much larger, healthier, fuller. Your meaty slut's udders dragging across the ground, gushing milk at the faintest touch, spraying at the electric shock of pleasure. Your belly hung so low with my children you waddled more than walked, and the laze of your activity produced even greater assets."

Silver-blue magic clapped Cupcake's cheeks. Her ponut deformed from the pressure. When Luna released, it bounced and wobbled back into place.

"Of course, do not misunderstand. You are a delectable mare as is. Yet, all can be improved with effort. And from what I have heard." Luna paused. Her magic shifted, wrapping around Cupcake's chubby waist. "Yours is a life with much room for improvement."

Luna's grip tugged her upwards. The instinct of hooves leaving ground urged her to kick, but she forced them still. With a flip, Cupcake faced the other direction, back to Luna's as she maneuvered herself behind. Wings glided, the world moved, first falling away then rising up, Luna standing on her hindlegs, and forelegs reaching to spread Cupcake's hinds.

"W-what?" Cupcake squeaked. She sounded like a younger version of herself, an inexperienced schoolfilly who only knew the stallion's penis went inside the mare's vagina. "Already?"

Luna hauled her hinds into the air, tucking them parallel with Cupcake's torso and putting her puffy junk on full display. Luna's cock, that behemoth of dickmeat, throbbed steel against it, the whole length in near total sight.

"If you are not opposed," Luna said. "I do not wish to cause harm, neither through speed nor brutality. Speak what it is you desire, and I shall fulfill you."

Cupcake couldn't help it. COuldn't help but allow her heart its flutters. Her head swooned and lolled back, resting under Luna's chin, tucked into her shoulder. Her tummy had butterflies.

For once. For once, the first time in years. Someone would take care of her.

"Breed me raw," Cupcake growled, though it came out more of a pleading whine.

Luna hissed. "Gladly."

She gave Cupcake no warning, nor any moment to adapt. One second the cock was there, drooling its viscous pre-sludge in front of her. The second, her cunt stretched wider than it ever ought to.

Her scream pierced the heavens. It contained inside years of lost love and yearning. It bellowed months of bloodboiling lust, and mind-blanking hormones. Her body bounced with it, scream continuing on and changing pitch and volume with every thrust.

With minimal buildup, the orgasm crashed down, flooding her brain with happy chemicals and rugged endorphins. Wailing became braying, neighing, nickers and chuffs interspersed with the longer sounds. Her clit protruded, bigger than it had ever been, while her lips and labia split apart so wide she thought they'd tear.

Nothing of the sort happened. No pain, not anything that didn't enhance her pleasure. The sting mingled with the satisfied ache, and the friction of steel on velvet walls milked her snatch dry. Which was to say, she squirted enough on the ground to form a small pond, made entirely from transparent marecum.

Luna rode her out for longer. Cupcake didn't really care how long she went, with or without climax, though she desperately needed that load at some point. She'd gotten her own orgasms, enraptured still in the aftershocks and tidal waves, still squirting until her clit hurt. But she needed those foals. She needed everything Luna told her about - the tits, the ass, the thighs, the belly, the profuse, absurd, obscene lactation.

"Prepare thyself, wench." Luna's kindly tone took on a harsher quality. Something bass and dominant rumbled through it, mountains shifting stones. "For when We art done with thy womb, We shalt claim thy ass."

The archaic language didn't turn her off. Oddly, it turned her on even more.

She squirted another half-pint, as thanks.

"Yyyyyyeeeegggghsssss," she frothed. Spittle foamed at her mouth, bubbling between her teeth and slipping down her chin. Eyes rolled up, unfocused and crossed, she let herself lose to the pleasure.

"Grow fat!" Luna barked!" And get pregnant!"

With conjoined moans, the moment happened. Her world exploded. Torrents of molten sperm, searing glue-thick nutsludge shot into her cunt, breaching the cervix Luna had the politeness to not break quite yet.

"Grow fat," Luna hissed, pumping her hips through every rope. "And get. Pregnant."

The telltale ring of twinkling magic reached her ears. They twitched, hearing it from underwater. What was the magic for, she was already-

Luna ripped two seams in spacetime. The right opened up to Constella, in Luna's chambers, on her bed, humping a pillow as she watched them through a tear of her own. On the left, Luna presented Cupcake a view of herself, speared on Luna's cock with a round, bloated, squidgey cumgut and a braindead joy on her face. She realized, stairing at herself, the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

She laughed with her tongue out. Head empty. Womb full. Life good.

The magic sank into her hole, spunk sealed shut from leaking out for the most part, but starting to dribble. Her ovaries tingled somewhere deep inside, and her mind opened to a host of new sensations.

She could feel so much more about her body. She felt the eggs, floating like soft, jelly-like orbs in their chambers. Her tubes tightened and pushed, and shot more out into her womb, more than the usual amount permissed by equine anatomy. Each went off like rockpopping candy, sending streams of current lightning racing in her veins with every egg's impact.

One, two, three, four. The foals, another one made with each successful pierce. She squirt again, again, again, harder and harder, until her consciousness waned.

Blackout caught her, but not before she witnessed the physical result of Luna's intention.

Her pregnancy, accelerated. Curves ballooning to proportions that would always, rather than occasionally wedge her in doorframes. Fatty meat to bounce, ripple, and wobble like water balloons no matter how still she tried to be. Dairy-stuffed crotchjugs that would indeed drag along the floor, and if Luna was correct about her production capacity, run like white rivers with the correct stimulation.

And her belly. Oh, Sun and Moon. Her beautiful mommy's belly. So fat and round it edged her hiked thighs apart, jutting out from her barrel like a medicine ball in miniature.

She wondered how many were inside her. How many gorgeous foals did her lover sire? How many more would her Princess - her Wife - want?

"Moo for me," Luna crooned, and tugged her nips with magic.

Twin jets of milk sprayed out, in spite of the crotchbra.

And Cupcake mooed.

Author's Note

This story was written for Omegathyst for the 2024 Summer Sin Celebration. Thanks to Shakespearicles for organizing.

Omega, hope you enjoy. <3