Sometimes a Pie Is Just a Pie

by SoarinPie

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Comedy, Spitfire, Random
Length: 2558

Soarin' eats Spitfire's pie...NO! Not like that! Okay, well maybe a little like that...

Soarin' is bestowed with the glory of pies made in the likeness of the Wonderbolts! Can he keep his mind out of the gutter and suppress his love for pies long enough to deliver these to the rest of the team? My guess is not. Loosely based off of Lurks-no-More's amazing fan fic "Sometimes a Popsicle Is Just a Popsicle" http://www.fimfiction.net/story/42216/Sometimes-a-Popsicle-Is-Just-a-Popsicle.

Thanks Ocean Mist for proof reading!

Published 2012-10-20 00:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-20 00:40:01 UTC

It's just a pie right?

The first snowfall of the year dusted lightly over Cloudsdale. Many ponies were out and about on this day; outfitted in hoof woven scarves and cashmere striped socks. Though Pegasi are more resilient to cold climates than their earth trotting brethren, they still looked for ways to take an edge of the sub zero temperatures. Many looked to warm themselves from the outside in with puffy coats and colorful scarves. Socks and other types of hoofwear. Others, like Soarin’ though, looked for warmth that worked inwards out.

So there he was, standing hoof deep in snow, clad in a light and dark blue scarf, out front of a building bellowing with smoke. Now on a day like this there were many homes and buildings with smoke tumbling out their chimneys. But this building was like no other. Its chimney emitted a sweet smelling smoke that smelling it alone took an edge off the cold. For this was “Pegi’s Pies Bakery”, a spot that Soarin’ was more than too familiar with. Though he had a few bakeries that supplied him with his baked indulgences, none of them came close to that of “Pegi’s”.

The door clang with a sharp yet friendly sound of bells when Soarin’ pushed past it. To him, it was the ringing of angels. A kind, soft spoken voice managed to travel its way to the front of the shop “Hold on a second sweetie, I’ll be up in a jiffy”.
“Take your time Pegi, I’m in no hurry” was Soarin’s typical response, Pegi was always in the back working her glorious magic. And this allowed Soarin’ time to admire and select her finished masterpieces.

There were muffins and scones of assorted flavors that echoed a delightful breakfasty tone in Soarin’s nostrils. There were dozens of fresh baked donuts that still dripped with warm glaze that gave off wisps of steam in the cold air. Cakes and cupcakes lined shelves on the wall, each one beautifully frosted by hoof with colorful designs. But even though Soarin’ found these all these to be on a level of deliciousness that was unmatched, there was one section that far exceeded anything aforementioned.

There, there behind the glass display at the front of the counter was a plethora of pies that seemingly glowed with baked treat glory. From cream pies to fruit pies, all were accounted for and available in slices or whole pies. Normally Soarin’ preferred to buy a pie’s worth of eight different flavors, that way he’d get the most out of each “pie”. But today was going to be different; Soarin’ just didn’t know that yet.

So in the meantime he set the tall task of deciding eight flavors. Sure, as a successful Wonderbolt overflowing with bits he could simply buy one of everything. But he didn’t simply want to try everything, he wanted to enjoy every second of every bite that each pie offered. He also wanted to look forward to the next visit to “Pegi’s Pies”. Therefore, he limited himself. “Hrmmm well I could go with a slice of Cinnamon Sugar Apple and a slice of Caramel Toffee Apple…seeing as it’s a cold day I have to have a slice of Creamy Ginger Pumpkin…” Soarin’ was interrupted though by the sound of Pegi emerging from the back of the bakery.

“Alrighty sweetie, I’m here and have I got a surprise for you!” she said in a tone equivalent to that of a foal’s grandmare about to bestow a birthday gift. This was typical Pegi though; she treated each patron like it was her grandfoal and didn’t spare any details. Though her grandmare-like mannerisms were appreciated by all, nopony appreciated them more than Soarin’. “Have a look at these darlin’! I made pies of you and your flying friends! Each one is special to each of you!” And so she did. In front of Soarin’ were three boxes, each one containing a pie that represented the name written on it. “I was trying to think of new flavors for boosting business and I thought that because you’re my favorite colt that I’d make you pies of you and your friends! I only made a few for now, tell me whatcha think of them and I’ll bake the rest” she finished with a smile that could melt your heart.
Soarin’ didn’t know what to say. “Y-you did this for me? Wow…thanks!” The awesomeness was becoming too much, even for him! Wonderbolts pies? Beyond awesome. B’awesome!
“Now run along and share them with your friends.” Soarin’ couldn’t resist giving Pegi a quick hug before heading out the door. “And don’t forget, you have to share! Don’t just eat them all yourself”
“I promise” were the last words to be heard before the door shut, again trapping the warmth and delicious smells inside.

This was turning out to be the best day ever! Not only did he get free pie, but he got multiple free pies. And on top of that he got multiple free pies in the likeness of the Wonderbolts! It was still technically morning, because of the snow there wouldn’t be any practice today. But there was still the “post-practice” meeting today. Perfect time to show the rest of the crew how awesome these pies were, and how awesome his baker was. But as he headed towards the stadium, the wind began to stir. The light snow was now turning into a freezing rain as the day grew warmer; add to this the wind and you have one of the strongest abrasives ever. The ice tore at Soarin’s skin and eyes, but he focused his attention on protecting the pies.

Luckily, Soarin’ lived just outside of town and on the way to the stadium. In fact he’d hardly noticed through his nearly shut eyes that he was mere feet away from his door step. Deciding for the sake of the pies, and his eyes, that he would duck in for a few moments; maybe make a hot cocoa…or steal a slice…or two...No! Can’t do that! Must save them for later. He fumbled to get his keys in the door, for it is not easy holding 3 pies during 30 mile per hour gusts in the freezing rain. But somehow he managed, but it didn’t stop the door slamming wide open upon successfully unlocking it. At this point though Soarin’ couldn’t have cared less if everything on the other side of the door was smashed into dust, he just wanted to bring himself and his baked goods out of the weather. “Humph. Freezing rain. Is there a more stupid form of precipitation?” Soarin’ mumbled to himself as he shut the door behind him. Dropping his soaked scarf at the door he proceeded towards the kitchen.

With the flick of a light, the lighting of the stove, the filling of a kettle, and the selection of a mug, Soarin’ was now ready to observe his treasures. He hastily removed the first pie from its box. “Soarin’ Pie! Dear Celestia it looks amazing. Well a single harmless slice couldn’t hurt” But just as he pierced the flakey golden crust he remembered “Oh wait, gotta share them with the rest of the team…dang” And with that Soarin’ returned the pie to its rightful container and was left to an afternoon to pass the day away; just waiting until evening when he would get to taste the pies that silently teased his willpower.

In order to resist the temptation of a “single harmless” slice, Soarin’ removed himself from the kitchen. Unfortunately his feelings remained there. An hour or so passed; Soarin’ had already read the newspaper, a rather saucy “Socks Edition” of Sports Demonstrated, and had even resorted to reading the little pamphlet for cloud removal that was hung on his door. But no matter how hard he tried and how pure his intentions were, his mind drifted back to the pies that sat alluringly on the kitchen table.
“Buck this! One slice isn’t going to hurt anypony, besides gotta make sure that they’re suitable for Wonderbolt consumption!” At least that was his story and he was sticking to it. Dashing into the kitchen with his new found excuse he quickly withdrew the “Soarin’ Pie” again from its cardboard restraint.

Although the pie was clearly labeled “Soarin’ Pie” in bold black marker, there was no evidence of what the flavor of pie was. Obviously further inspection was needed. Withdrawing a slice from the pan he was surprised to find wisps of steam emanating from it. Good thing Soarin’ was seated, otherwise he might have collapsed for his knees buckled under this discovery. The contents of the pie were a rich dark purple, almost a cross between navy and violet. The thick, warm, syrup oozed from what appeared to be some mixed berry pie. But it was impossible to decipher which ones to be exact without tasting. Soarin’ raised a fork full to his muzzle and carefully, and somewhat sensually, accepted the contents into his mouth.

Now to the untrained tongue, that bite Soarin’ took would’ve just been interpreted as magnificent taste explosion that tantalized each and every taste bud. But to Soarin’…well, actually that’s exactly how it was. “Oh my sweet Celestia this is awesome! Blackberries, blueberries and what’s that third one? Is that boysenberry? And do I taste lemon zest?” Each nuance of the pie was interpreted perfectly by the trained tongue of the veteran pie eater and he relished even second of it.
Soarin’ had hardly noticed that in his attempt to unravel each individual flavor of the pie he had managed to consume more than half of it. Guilt now replaced the euphoric feeling that the pie had given him. “Um…well g-good thing there are two more; still plenty to share”.

Soarin’ glanced up at the clock that seemed to tick more slowly today than ever before. “1:04. Just have to wait 4 more hours” Easier said than done. Soarin’ now returned to the monotonous task of wasting time, at least until evening. A task that on any other day he would’ve achieved with flying colors. But he had successfully used up every form of entertainment inside and the freezing rain still showed no signs of easing up. He had to resort to his failsafe plan.

But as he tried to pass out on the couch, thoughts of pies danced in his head. There was seemingly no escape and in desperation he ran back into the kitchen. “I just need one more slice! Just to hold me over” His eye had developed a slight twitch and he had become slightly damp with sweat. He removed the second pie from its box. “Ohhh ‘Fleetfoot Pie’! Always did wonder what she tasted like” Even in his semi-maniacal he saw the error in what he said. Although he was alone with only his thoughts to accompany him he still managed to blush at the thought. In an attempt to rid himself of these mental pictures he told himself “What am I thinking? Sometimes a pie is just a pie; I need to get my mind out of the gutter”. Having suppressed his thoughts for the most part, he wasted no time withdrawing a slice of pie; again, just a small harmless slice.

Fast-forward exactly 4 minutes and 33 seconds, there were remnants of blue coconut cream pie strewn about the table accompanied by the occasional smudge of pineapple meringue. Primeval instincts once again got the better of Soarin’, and once again not much of the pie was salvageable.

“One pie left. Must…save…for later”. Though it would seem that the more he ate the less the temptation would be, this couldn’t be further from the truth. The urge to consume all that was left of the pies was accumulating like a snowball rolled down hill. His willpower was shaken to the core and was quickly fading into oblivion. He resorted to sitting on the couch staring at the wall. It was his last ditch attempt to ensure that he accomplished his mission. But even this was proving difficult.

With each following thought, sight, sound; all brought him back to that one remaining pie. And it didn’t help that he decided on the pie wallpaper when he redecorated last Monday. Even staring at the ceiling offered no relief. Much like one sees pictures in the clouds, Soarin’ was seeing images in the popcorn ceiling. “4:00. Just one more hour…”

The scene was a graphic one. No subtlety at all. It was blind lust that was about to be quenched. “Spitfire Pie”. His lips quivered at the thought. He discarded the box without thought of where it land. It mattered not, all that mattered was pie. No slice would be taken, he delve in muzzle first lapping up the thick juices of the pie. Bits of crust flew everywhere and fruit pieces found themselves splattered to and fro. The combination of rhubarb, strawberries, and peaches caused a near orgasmic reaction. He uttered sounds reserved for the bedroom, and some that had no place in the bedroom. His tongue explored each inch of the pie dish, swirling around the rim so that no remnants of the flavorful liquid was missed.

Soarin’ removed himself from the pie for a breath of air, a stream of saliva connecting his mouth and the pie dish remained momentarily before being lapped back up. After his initial onslaught, he returned in a more sensual manner. Moaning and chewing was all that was heard, Soarin’ lost in total surrender to the pie.

There was a knock at the door that strangely didn’t wait to be answered before barging in.
“Whew it’s cold out there! Soarin’! Where ya at Soarin’?” Spitfire was use to just allowing herself in, the gesture was mutual on both ends. But since catching Soarin’ “reading” her article in the “Swim Suit Edition” of Sports Demonstrated that one time she had now decided to knock first. Just too bad it went unheard.
“Just coming by to tell you that the meeting was cancel…Soarin’?”
Before her sat a stallion. One stripped of every shred of dignity. On the floor lay the empty box labeled “Spitfire Pie”. The table appeared to have been the site of an exploding pie with bits and pieces everywhere. At the center sat an intoxicated Soarin’.
“What happened? Was this pie for me? Did you eat my pie?” Spitfire didn’t know whether she should be concerned or angry at her teammate. “Well?”
Wiping his mouth Soarin’ managed to say in-between breaths “You can…still…have a piece…of me”
And with that Soarin’ passed out onto the floor, once again brought literally to his knees by pie.
"Soarin'! Soarin' wake up!" A futile attempt it was. Spitfire was obviously not going to get any answers out of Soarin’, at least not at the moment. She decided to investigate the scene a little more. Under the debris of fallen pies was a box with pie still remaining in it.
“Soarin’ Pie? Shouldn’t surprise me that that goofball has his own pie. Ohh smells good too. Wouldn’t mind a piece of that!” A slight blush crept onto Spitfires cheeks. “Did I really just say that? Aw what am I thinking? I mean, it’s just a pie right? Sometimes a pie is just a pie”