Chapters Sexier Short Stories with Particularly Pregnant Ponies
Author's Note
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Trixie's Baby Trick~!!
“For my next trick, I’ll need volunteer.” Trixie was sitting on her rump, smugly, looking at the crowd from her stage. She hummed for a moment before adding, “a pregnant volunteer.” Her eyes were instantly drawn to the two of you, Twilight Sparkle and her husband, and both of you knew she knew the only pregnant mare in the crowd was Twilight. She harrumphed and made no move to go on stage.
“Aw, she’s shy. Come now, my delightful audience, let’s stomp our hooves to encourage her.” The crowd began to do just that, and Twilight narrowed her eyes at Trixie, who was still sitting but clopping her forehooves together with a smug grin.
“Just what do you need a pregnant mare for, Trixie?” Twilight pointed her left foreleg out accusingly at her. “Just what are you planning?” Trixie and the crowd stopped clopping and stomping.
“Well, Mrs.,” Trixie pretended to not know the unicorn’s name, “The Great and Powerful Trixie has recently devised a spell that does a wonder for a poor mare’s tired body, heavy with foal. She can guarantee you that the spell is entirely safe, and a mare of your,” she paused for a moment, “width certainly looks like she could use a break from carrying her foal, or should I say foals?”
“C’mon Twilight, don’t be a stick in the mud.” It was Lyra. Of course it was Lyra. “Get on up there!” Lyra started chanting Twilight’s name, and the crowd followed.
“Alright, alright!” Twilight was a bit better about grinding her teeth than she had once been, but she certainly looked angry as she gave in to Trixie’s plan, whatever it was. She mumbled all the way to the stage and up the staircase at its side. She stood before Trixie, still sitting, still grinning, and still smug.
“I’m sure you have no experience with the spell Trixie is about to show you, Twilight.” At this, Twilight’s expression changed from angry to curious. Now Trixie was addressing the audience, much more loudly.
“Now watch, audience, as The Great and Powerful Trixie takes all of the stress from this mare, by transferring it into her own body!” Trixie’s horn glowed, surrounding Twilight’s belly with blue magic. “Why, what else could the Mid-Motherhood Movement Spell do, after all?” Twilight thought that spell sounded awfully like a bad rebranding of the Gestation Translation Spell; by the time she stopped to notice just where Trixie’s magic was focussed, it was too late.
The crowd cheered, and Trixie had somehow become even smugger. Twilight, meanwhile, was horrified. Her pregnancy was just gone, as if she’d never been carrying at all. She felt lightheaded, and struggled to breathe as she turned her attention back to Trixie, sporting a pregnancy, her pregnancy! “Trixie, you had better undo this right now!” Twilight had one hoof at Trixie’s throat.
“Um, excuse me, could you stop putting so much pressure on Trixie’s belly? It doesn’t feel good.” Twilight’s other hoof had been resting rather deeply on the top of Trixie’s pregnancy, and she scrambled off of it in a panic. By now, you’d jumped onto stage yourself, prepared to beat the stuffing out of the showmare.
“Now, now, let’s not get violent. You wouldn’t hurt the mare carrying your foals, now would you?” Trixie fluttered her eyelashes in a mock display of innocence. “Ugh, feel free to give it some attention, however. It itches.”
Both of you nervously touched Trixie’s belly, and felt movement from it. It was odd, to see the same foal, or foals, in a different belly; inside, nothing had changed, but you and Twilight had obviously grown to associate your progeny with a tight purple belly, lacking any better outward identity for the time, and not a blue one with a disgusting outie.
“Well, that’s all, folks!” Trixie declared to the audience. “Those of you with VIP passes may wait around for an autograph, and a picture too, if you pay for it.” Everypony had a VIP pass, including the two of you, she only said it to sound fancier.
“Trixie, I swear to Celestia if you don’t,” Trixie hushed Twilight.
“Trixie will gladly return your burden, Sparkle, don’t worry.” She yawned. “But first, Trixie needs some sleep. ’Tis a shame Trixie must sleep in a cold wagon, lacking any fireplace. It will be a cold night.” Both of you were glaring at her, but she continued. “And Trixie has such little money to buy food, but it should be fine for just a night, Trixie supposes.” Her stomach growled, but her horn had been active the moment before; she had clearly made it growl on command.
You stared at the ceiling, lying in bed with your wife. Snoring very loudly in the other bed, which had been moved to be right beside yours, was Trixie, still pregnant. Twilight had to cast a spell on herself so she could sleep, and the mark of many tears was still present on her face; at least she was taking the opportunity to sleep on her stomach. You lifted your head and glanced over at Trixie, whose mouth was open while she slept, a scrap of food stuck on her muzzle. She’d eaten three meals tonight.
You were going to kill her once Twilight was pregnant again.
Sexier Short Stories with Particularly Pregnant Ponies
Author's Note
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Business Kicks~!!
“Well gentlecolts, I’m pleased to tell you the restructuring has successfully improved the financial health of this business, primarily by reducing costs. All of this without any ponies fired, of course.” Ms. Harshwhinny’s speech was off the cuff, but she was nevertheless scanning over a document with the details as she spoke to the board. The stallions of the board applauded her speech by drumming their hooves against the boardroom table; she sat in an office chair before them. She waited for the praise to die down before continuing.
“We once again thank you for contracting with “Harshwhinny and Son Consulting” and we look forward to continuing our work with you.” She couldn’t help but glance down at the giant buldge sitting between her legs. She had yet to find the time to change the name to “Harshwhinny and Sons Consulting” while ever busy, but the time for both that and a restructuring was coming soon. Her darling little business partners had been sleeping straight through the meeting, which was a relief.
She once again put off the idea of when her consulting firm would really be going public , an event she wouldn’t be able to reschedule for once. She almost started daydreaming again, about them wearing their business suits and herself watching them giving the presentations in her stead; she wanted to close her eyes and smile at the thought, but she had to stay professional. She continued. “There’s still plenty of work to be done, however,” she kept her right hoof resting on top of her constituents, rubbing out any issues that could arise as they shifted. She could swear sometimes it was as if they were shifting and competing for the title of “first son” and so on.
She paused for a moment as she felt one of her minority stakeholders striking against her, against her poor bladder in particular. She squirmed in her seat, the five ponies of the board watching her; it was very unprofessional. Still, relief didn’t come; he seemed insistent on raising a complaint with his supervisor. She had always been perfect when it came to preparing for business matters, by making certain her mane were smooth and by taking bathroom breaks beforehoof, so she silently cursed how emptying her bladder never seemed to stop them from bringing back that horrible sensation ahead of schedule; still, she couldn’t just get up and leave, it would be embarrassing on top of unprofessional, so she tried to continue.
She coughed in an attempt to mask a grunt as she squirmed in her seat slightly. “That work is,” she felt a particularly hard blow from one of her darling little workers, and then another, “that profit should be reinvested into the ailing departments, such as to the deliverymares who form the spine of this business.” As she ran that sentence through her head again, she realized it made less sense; she was losing her concentration. She felt yet another blow; it was as if they were organizing a strike against cramped working spaces. Her eyes quickly scanned across the faces of the board, and she noticed some were looking at her, but not directly. She glanced down, and realized two of those blows were still visible: The outlines of two little hooves pressed against her skin, almost as if they were waving for attention. Harshwhinny hated when ponies stared at her pregnancy, but she couldn’t help it here.
“T-The deliverymares h-have submitted some anonymous complaints t-to me in the past weeks, s-some of which I’d like to share with you, i-in brief.” She’d be a different kind of deliverymare soon enough. “U-Um, the first and most pressing complaint is the delivery route to M-Manehatten, which they tell me has been subpar for years.” The kicking continued, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she continued. “T-They tell me the route could be adjusted to take Cloudsdale’s journey into consideration, w-where a-applicable, which would make it much easier for them to take breaks a-along t-the w-way.”
“T-The, um, the second matter, that is the c-complaint is, ah, t-to” Harshwhinny stopped and opened her eyes when one of the stallions interrupted her. He needed to take a bathroom break? How convenient! She’d also take one.
After rocking herself out of her seat, she made a straight waddle for the lady’s room. Frustratingly, she didn’t need to use the toilet once she made it there, but she tried. Soon enough, she was back in front of the board, standing this time, and ended her speech with ten minutes set aside for questions. Her hoof once again rested over her darling little interns as she answered everything without any problems. Five minutes later, she was confident nothing else would disturb her. Then she felt another little movement, and that horrible sensation had returned.
Sexier Short Stories with Particularly Pregnant Ponies
Author's Note
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Bug Shy~!!
Queen Chrysalis lounged on her throne, her insectoid body twisted in ways that would torture a pony, but which proved oddly comfortable to her in her current state. Jutting from her body in every direction was her massive womb, larger than the rest of her, with dozens of new changelings pressed against the membrane in every possible way. Were she to look at it, she’d see her newest children staring back at her, mooning her, and many seemingly pleading for relief from the pressure that prevented most any movement. She occasionally stared at herself and marvelled at the efficiency of her body in making new hive members; ponies simply couldn’t compete, spending eleven months to make a measly foal or two, with inefficient umbilical cords and everything else. Her superiority in every respect was firmly planted in her mind in all she did. Regardless, her attention presently lay elsewhere, with a stalactite or other cave feature while she waited to squeeze out the newest batch.
Her guard stood by her side, as a matter of policy, for nopony could invade the hive so deeply to their current position. Her hive wore the tattered uniforms of many fallen soldiers from across Equestria, and this guard in particular wore the uniform of Luna’s Night Guard, with the holes caused by relieving the previous owner of it still present. The superiority of his queen was also firmly planted in his mind in all he did, and he was thankful to have such a wondrous mother. He delighted in protecting her and the newest hive members just as those before him had done when he was but a foal in her womb. Try as he might, he had no memories of his existence before his birth, although others claimed to remember a view of the world that was upside-down with a blue hue, surrounded by an omnipresent warmth. It made sense that many of his fellow changelings would have no such memories, even if the others weren’t lying, given that the overwhelming majority of foals within the queen had no view outside of her, either looking inward or swarmed in every respect by the others.
In admiring her body, he locked eyes with one of the little foals within. The foal continued to stare at him—they never did blink unless by choice it seemed—but he certainly needed to blink occasionally, and unwittingly made a strained face as he continued his staring. He only realized this when the foal imitated him, squinting with one eye. The guard blinked and rubbed his eyes after this although, when he opened them again, the foal within was also trying to rub his own eyes. The clumsy movement mostly struck the other nearby foals, and then the guard noticed yet other foals either imitating him or striking back against the others. The many foals struck outwards with their forehooves, and others bucked in ways that looked painfully taut. It felt like moments, but was perhaps closer to a minute, that the queen’s entire belly was shaking back-and-forth violently. He wasn’t looking at her, but the queen blushed as she again showed her progeny some attention.
The membrane was of course without muscle, and only the thin bands dividing it into segments could retract to squeeze them into submission and calm her belly once again. The guard glanced at his queen’s face, and she was shooting an unpleasant look back, as if inviting him inside of her for a second time, as food. He shrank away with a sheepish look on his face.
Fortunately for the guard, he remained outside of his queen as she left the throne room for some other part of the hive. Despite the title of guard, his main purpose was to help her move her swollen form at her leisure, and he was thankful she wasn’t yet so big that she would need two guards to help her shift her weight. Wordlessly, she began to rock herself back and forth until her giant rear left the throne, and he wordlessly sandwiched his back underneath it to act as a lift; his four shaking legs moved the queen upwards ever so slowly, and he knew if his legs failed him he would be smashed under her like a common bug, although there were worse ways to die. Thankfully, her thick hindlegs soon helped him, but not to get her standing, for she was easily far too large for standing to be possible. The work of his entire body and her legs amounted to nothing more than rotating her so that she lay on her belly like a knot on a balloon. Thereafter, her wings somehow lifted her into the air, giving her more of a teardrop shape as he lay on the ground watching her, struggling to catch his breath before he followed.
His queen was so majestic.
Sexier Short Stories with Particularly Pregnant Ponies
Author's Note
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Cake Fall~!!
The cakes were on the counter in the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, and the Cakes stood before that counter icing them. There would soon enough be more cakes in the kitchen, and more Cakes too, by the looks of Mrs. Cake, who had two new Cakes in her belly, but whose belly looked like it held many more cakes than that. They complemented each other in their work, with Mrs. spreading the right icing in the right place with the bag held gently in her mouth, and Mr. sculpting it and spreading it around evenly with the tools held tightly between his teeth. It was actually a problem for two Earth ponies to work so happily with one another, since they regularly took short breaks to glance lovingly and smile at each other, so it was only a matter of time before Cup Cake smiled so much she lost the grip on the bag and dropped it, which knocked a cylindrical container of sprinkles off the counter and rolling away from them along with a cup measure that clanked across the ground in the same direction.
Mr. Cake started to set his instrument down, but she interrupted him. “Oh no, sweetheart, I know I’m big, but I can still get it.”
Carrot Cake wanted to help, he really did, but she turned her tail towards him and then he only wanted to look at six more little cakes that needed icing instead. One of the objects had rolled partially underneath a drawer; she bent her forelegs to reach it, and her belly scraped the floor. He started to chew his bottom lip.
“Now let’s see where that cup went, Cup.” She giggled a little at her pun, and her tail moved back and forth absentmindedly, eventually uncovering her bottom. Carrot wondered if she were purposefully teasing him or not. He had half a mind to mount her if she kept on, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d made love in the kitchen, but a gasp from her broke him out of his dirty thoughts, especially as it changed into a much stranger noise.
He could see why. It had been a secret between them that their twins weren’t going to be Earth ponies but, of all things, a pegasus and a unicorn. Her belly was stretched out slightly on her right side by a pair of wings. He started walking over to her, only to trip and fall hard on the ground, chin parallel to the floor; he knew what that sensation around his hoof had been and, now with a much lower view, he could see the small glow of a unicorn’s horn emanating from Cup’s belly too. It seemed both of them were awake.
He stood, and rubbed his sore chin with a hoof for a moment, before more carefully finishing his walk over to her. “Here, help me sit down, sweetheart.” Her poor legs must be sore after bending like that for so long. He stood beside her and she slowly started to tilt herself in his direction; he braced himself to resist enough to slowly ease her onto her side and, after some noted discomfort, onto her back instead. She propped herself up with a hoof, resting against the drawers. “Oooh, I think it would be easier to lug around two Earth ponies.”
Carrot’s sore chin aside, he had something reassuring to say as he nuzzled her. “Maybe, sugarplum, but remember what the midwife said: Earth ponies can kick hard enough to break ribs.” She did relax a little at being reminded that stretching wingspans and magical surges were a bit easier to handle over broken bones.
The faint glow was still there, and she could see the bump causing it just underneath her skin. Cup Cake thought it funny how she’d long wanted to know what it was like to have a unicorn’s horn, and how now in a way she did, albeit one not under her direct control. The same went for those wings she could feel, but not quite see with how they sat inside her for now, and they certainly weren’t flying anywhere anytime soon. She realized the exertion—and she reminded herself of the kitchen’s heat, which was mild at worst—was causing her to sweat. Sure, she’d put on some weight in addition to the weight of two new ponies, but the longer she stared at herself literally out of shape, and just how cushioned her rear sat against the hardwood floor, the more she wanted to give up and lie in bed upstairs without anypony seeing her like this.
To his credit, Carrot could tell she seemed upset. “What’s wrong, sugarplum? Do you need me to get you something?”
“Sweetheart, am I still attractive,” she stopped looking at her swollen barrel long enough to lock eyes with him, before looking away a moment later, “like this?”
“You’re the most beautiful mare I’ve ever met.” He nuzzled the most ticklish spot on her neck until she giggled against her will. “You’re even prettier than Celestia.” She knew he was exaggerating, but he wasn’t letting up on that spot, so she couldn’t retort yet. “I’m so glad that you’re my wife, carrying our perfect foals for us.” He finally stopped nuzzling, and she needed time to catch her breath.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She happily kissed him on the lips. “Here, help me up so we can finish these cakes.” He didn’t know whether she meant cakes, or Cakes, but he agreed either way.
Sexier Short Stories with Particularly Pregnant Ponies
Author's Note
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Sisterly Ruckus~!!
Rarity walked down the stairs leading away from her bedroom with a care she’d had to adopt for the past several months. She wanted nothing more than to return to bed with her husband, but her belly swollen with foals meant she’d need to walk to the first floor of her home before turning around regardless, lest she trip over herself and tumble down the staircase. That horrid possibility was really the only thing that stopped her from turning around immediately. She’d feel better once she fully woke up, optimistically.
Sweetie Belle stood near the end of the staircase in Rarity’s showroom, listening, and waiting. Her patience was rewarded as her muse stumbled into view, and inspiration struck quickly. Sweetie went to work immediately, assaulting the canvas with every colour she had on hoof, and even the colour she had on the brush held in her mouth. Rarity stood still for the most part—unawares of her role as model—sans some tilting and swinging back-and-forth as she tried to lose her growing headache. She stood there staring at a wall and quite annoyed that she’d left her luxurious bed, bothered by the coffee she shouldn’t drink just sitting in her pantry, upset that her foals were finally asleep while she wasn’t, and wondering how well eating breakfast weighed against getting more rest in bed. However many minutes passed while Rarity stood there with a frown on her face, not even noticing the noise behind her.
Rarity jolted to clarity as that changed. Whatever it was, it had been cold and wet, and now her foals were awake too; she knew Sweetie had spent the night. She took a deep breath, and slowly looked back with a scowl to see Sweetie Belle making a mess, which she could see running down her belly and butt in addition to feeling it seeping into her mane. It had even managed to wake up her foals, she could see by a hard kick which became many more. Sweetie Belle soon noticed and stopped her work; she had an apologetic look on her face, one that looked awfully familiar to Rarity as she slowly rotated herself and waddled that way. Sweetie stopped rearing to paint and started to step back, shrinking away while she was at it. Rarity now saw how Sweetie was transferring paint from her hooves to the nice showroom floor, and then noticed the rest of the paint already there. Sweetie was just looking at the ground now, waiting. Rarity stopped before her and took one glance at what Sweetie had put on the canvas before opening her mouth to suggest Sweetie Belle go back to their parents for the day. Thankfully, Rarity’s eyes caught up to her mouth, and she looked at the painting again. It showed Sweetie Belle dancing underneath Celestia’s sun in a field, with Rarity sitting down to watch her, hooves resting on a belly that—Rarity hated to admit—accurately took up most of her body, she told herself because of the perspective.
“I’m sorry for getting paint on you.” Sweetie’s voice was very quiet.
Rarity could only sigh. “It’s okay Sweetie.” She took on a slightly sweeter tone. “Tell me about your painting.” Sweetie looked up, at first apprehensively, but then she smiled at Rarity’s smile and walked over to rear against the easel again.
“I wanted to see if I could get a painter’s cutie-mark!” The squeak had returned to Sweetie’s voice, and she started to point out the elements of the artwork, carefully to avoid spreading any more paint. “This is me, this is you, and these are my nieces and nephews who can’t play yet!” Rarity’s smile turned into a grin at Sweetie’s enthusiasm for becoming an aunt.
“Well, I’m glad you chose a relaxing activity for me. I can’t exactly run and jump or dance like we used to do, right now.” Rarity patted her bump for emphasis, and remembered it had paint on it as she pulled her sticky hoof away. “In fact, Sweetie, I know something we can do together right now, before we have breakfast outdoors with your uncle.”
“What’s that?” Sweetie was now even more excited.
Rarity sighed, in delight for the first time all day. A relaxing bath was the perfect way to start her day. The room was humid and warm, leaving even the part of her jutting far out of the warm water at a comfortable temperature, given her belly was always warmer than the rest of her. She ignored how she was just a little too big to fit Sweetie Belle in with her these days; so Sweetie had taken her bath first, and was now filing Rarity’s hindhoof lazily hanging off the lip of the bathtub. Sweetie was humming a little tune to herself while she worked, and Rarity couldn’t help but close her eyes and lose herself in the moment. She thought perhaps Sweetie Belle’s cutie-mark would be in artistry after seeing that painting, but music was looking more likely as she kept listening. She couldn’t recall a single pony without a music cutie-mark who could sound so nice while merely humming. Rarity wanted to tell Sweetie Belle this, but all she could do was yawn when she opened her mouth, and soon enough she was taking a quick nap even with a belly full of active foals.
Sweetie Belle stopped her humming when she heard Rarity gently snoring. Rarity insisted she never snored, but that was a lie. She couldn’t see most of Rarity from where she sat—although in a way she was—but she could see her nieces and nephews, and she thought about the fun she’d have playing with them and helping them get their cutie-marks one day. Sweetie Belle started humming again, with an even bigger smile on her face than before.
Sexier Short Stories with Particularly Pregnant Ponies
Author's Note
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Bug Scare~!!
Three changelings made their way through the identical corridors of the hive. One was in his prime, one young, and the last nearly new. The latter two were the responsibility of the other, the oldest, who carried the youngest in his forehooves as he hovered. This caused no end of grief to the middle changeling, young enough to remember being carried and old enough to be denied it; he tried to fly to spare his hooves the cold stone floor, only for his wings to fail and drop him flat on his stomach. Tears welled in his eyes, and rage took over his little body in the form of a tantrum. The oldest hovered over him, waiting for his kicking and wailing to end.
Moments passed, and still the little changeling cried on the floor. It crossed the oldest's mind to punish the younger, but the youngest slept in his embrace, and it would be difficult to keep him asleep during such a thing, even drawing from his reserves of magic that ought best not be wasted. Fortune shone wherever his queen deigned to visit, and his ears heard her distinct buzzing, although she couldn't yet be seen. The little changeling had lived in the nursery for his entire life, and had never seen the queen in her current state beforehoof, or certainly couldn't remember her beauty at the very least. It was time for a favoured tale that would scare him into submission. The oldest spoke, and loudly informed the younger that their majestic queen ate those little changelings who misbehaved. This gave but a moment of reprieve, before the crying continued.
When the little changeling opened his eyes inbetween gasps, he felt his chitin try to leap from his body and he jumped in surprise. The queen—she had to be the queen—hovered before him, with a belly full of little foals just like him! They looked outwards at him in a silent plea for help, shoved every which way in her gut, looking deeply uncomfortable on top of being food. They struggled in a meaningless way hanging beneath her, with their combined strength causing little more than a rocking back-and-forth in the clear sack as she flew. Some had clearly been swallowed whole to suffer longer and others surely chewed to pieces beforehoof, considering the many legs, butts, and other body parts he saw without clear owners. Many heads without much else stared back at him as they jutted out from the black mass churning away in her, unmoving, unblinking. There were more foals in her belly than he could count—so many that her belly struggled to contain them, with many heads, butts, and everything else poking out to make her belly particularly lumpy—and surely some of them had behaved even better than he was!
The older changeling smiled at the horror on the younger face, and then diverted his attention to his queen and mother. The hive was no longer struggling merely to survive—comparing the runt in his hooves and the runt at his hooves to those yet born cemented that opinion—the unborn were much larger and fatter already, nearly twice the size of the youngest he held, and also more far numerous. The queen's inability to walk while carrying her brood was something he'd not seen too often lately, but now she was once again unable to touch her very hooves to the floor without contorting herself. He knew the next generation would help to continue the cycle of prosperity under their queen that had begotten them. He turned his head as she passed them by to admire her further. The queen's rear was no longer scrawny, as it had been when they were starving; now it was easily bigger than his entire body, and he knew she'd have no need to tap into those large love reserves with how plentiful food now was in the hive.
He knew the queen was on her way to the nursery to part with the foals within her, to leave them with the caretakers such as himself soon, very soon. He, nevertheless, was quite glad to be dealing with the current crop of scrawnier foals who were easier to handle. They would in all likelihood follow in his trail and care for their brethren as he followed in the trail of those who had cared for him; that was likely preferable to destiny as a soldier. He knew the ponies had individual destinies, but he much preferred a life that both came from and serviced to his beautiful queen. In all his fellow changelings—and in the queen when she was swollen gravid like this—he saw reflections of himself, his past, and his future. There was comfort in that, and not an iota of him would deviate from that mould set in his queen.
In just a few minutes, the sweet buzzing of her wings was but a memory, and the three were once again alone. He looked down at the younger changeling, who was now very quiet, with a smile on his face. He also noticed the youngest in his hooves was now awake, but it would no longer be appropriate to apply a punishment to the other. They continued, and he was thankful for his queen's brief presence. Fortune shone wherever his queen deigned to visit.
