Pinkie Dinky Pie
By The Conflicted Writer
Mrs. Cake counted herself among the very elite group of ponies – of which she and her husband were the only members – that would trust Pinkie Pie with something before trusting somepony else. It wasn’t that she was desperate; ponies such as Applejack, of whom it was widely believed she was the most dependable pony in all of Ponyville, were but an apple cobbler away from helping Mrs. Cake.
And then there were ponies like Twilight Sparkle, known throughout town as the “Best Unicorn that Ever Lived” because of her awesome power and status as Celestia’s personal student.
Then there was Rarity, generous to a fault.
Fluttershy, so kind that it made one’s heart ache.
Rainbow Dash… actually, most ponies were on the fence about that, if only because Ms. Dash was a slacker most extreme.
But the ultimate point was that Mrs. Cake would easily accept Pinkie Pie’s help and council before most others on many matters. Was it because she knew that Applejack was stubborn beyond what should be possible? Was it because she dealt with Twilight and her… perfectionism (dear Celestia, that grin)? Was it because of the numerous faults she could think of in other ponies?
No. Mrs. Cake trusted Pinkie because Pinkie was Pinkie. That was really all there was to it. At least, she thought that was it. It was hard to tell with Pinkie being so… Pinkie.
So when Mrs. Cake found, late one night by use of the light of the moon through the crack of an opened door, Pinkie Pie hovering over the crib of her sleeping babies while standing stock still and staring intently at them, she wasn’t worried.
At least about her children, anyway. She was worried about what Pinkie was doing staring at them and about what would cause this to happen. If her children were in danger, Pinkie would tell her. And Pinkie wasn’t able to physically, emotionally, or consciously harm another living being. She just couldn’t.
Mrs. Cake thought about going in and asking what was wrong, but decided it would be pointless. She knew Pinkie well enough that she wouldn’t admit to a problem that either wasn’t harming anypony or only harmed herself. An incident on a particular birthday came to mind. So she stood perfectly still and watched as Pinkie Pie stood perfectly still and watched.
Nothing came of it, though. Eventually Mrs. Cake couldn’t keep her eyes open and went to bed. The next morning, all was as it should have been. Mr. Cake began baking the goods for the day, Pinkie helped as she bounced on her hooves, and she took care of her darling baby twins. But the image nagged at her the whole time she was with Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake. Pinkie looming over them, staring intently with a look Mrs. Cake had never seen her ward wear.
“Cup Cake?” Mr. Cake said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Are you alright, sweetums?”
Mrs. Cake deliberated with herself for a few seconds. “I’m fine, honey bun. I’m just thinking, is all.”
“Care to share?” Mr. Cake grinned, stepping up to his children and placing them on his back, the two giggling as they bounced. “Maybe I can think about it as I take my shift.”
“As soon I know what I was thinking about, I’ll let you know, too.” She took a few steps toward the front room, but stopped. “I suppose Pinkie left for the day.”
“You know her. The second the lunch rush ends, Pinkie rush begins. I’m sure she’s out planning some kind of party. Maybe to celebrate Pokey’s one thousandth popped balloon. Did you need to ask her something?”
Mrs. Cake frowned. “I’m not sure. Don’t worry about it too much, but I think we might be dealing with another Pinkie Quirk.”
“Oh no,” Mr. Cake drawled, bringing a hoof to his forehead. “What’s it this time? Do we need a new storage shed for another gizmo? I told her I don’t need a personal flying machine when I can borrow hers.”
“Nothing so expensive, I hope,” Mrs. Cake said with a giggle. “You trust Pinkie, right? You know she would never intentionally hurt anypony.”
“Of course. If she did, she’d probably hurt herself trying to fix it.”
“And you trust me, right?”
“I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”
Mrs. Cake patted Mr. Cake’s cheek. “Then don’t worry too much about it for now. I’ll tell you if there’s anything to worry about.”
Mr. Cake nodded. “Alright. Now hurry up and get out there, woman, or we might have a problem.”
Mrs. Cake rolled her eyes and grinned. “Oh, my, I wouldn’t want to incur your wrath, you brute.”
That night, Mrs. Cake poked her husband. “Deary, are you awake?”
Snoring was Mr. Cake’s only response.
Mrs. Cake got out of bed and went into the hall. Silently as she could, Mrs. Cake prowled along the darkened floor to her single employee’s room. As she expected, the room was devoid of life. And also as she expected, when she reached her children’s room, Pinkie was hovering over the crib, staring at Pound and Pumpkin and wearing an expression that Mrs. Cake couldn’t make sense of.
This continued for several nights, with varying differences on Mrs. Cake’s part. She tried to stay up and figure out when it was the Pinkie went to perform her ritual. Always at one in the morning. Twice, Mrs. Cake was almost caught, tired from staying up so late and just exhausted from the effort of staying awake. Pinkie would leave, always, at four, as Mrs. Cake discovered those two times.
As Mrs. Cake found out, Pinkie didn’t do anything except stand and stare. At least physically. The elder mare knew that her student thought so fast she sometimes didn’t even understand herself. What is Pinkie thinking so intently about, she wondered to herself every second she was up watching.
Finally, after what seemed like weeks of this, Pinkie moved. Mrs. Cake felt her heart jump and checked the time. Two twenty-seven. At last, a vital clue might be revealed. She kept as close an eye on the pink pony as she could, hoping that she wouldn’t move out of the limited sight the door created. Pinkie Pie stopped at the changing table, where multiple supplies were kept for the babies. Pinkie opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pacifier.
A memory surged in Mrs. Cake’s mind of herself, Mr. Cake, and Pinkie realizing that such a little object had far too many names than what was practical. Pacifier, binky, dinky, suckle, dum-dum, dummy, to name a few. Mrs. Cake realized that Pinkie was the one to name most of them, something she had written off as Pinkie being Pinkie.
When said mare stuck one such object in her mouth, Mrs. Cake began to have doubts.
Pinkie sat with a new expression, one more recognizable to Mrs. Cake; curiosity. The pacifier was obviously too small for an adult mare’s mouth, but that didn’t stop her from taking some experimental suckles, loud and piecing in the silent night. Pinkie Pie giggled in that innocent Pinkie way and continued this. Mrs. Cake couldn’t say for how long, because she turned to go to her own room after watching for a few minutes.
She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, processing the information she had received, comparing it to what she knew already. All sorts of confusing feelings welled up in Mrs. Cake that didn’t make any sense. She could find no answer, and knew any confrontation with her steward would end with nothing resolved. She needed to know what was happening with Pinkie before she said anything, and she knew nothing.
That night, she didn’t sleep at all.
“Puddin’ Pop, are you okay?”
Mrs. Cake yelped, sending the pancake she had been cooking into the air. By divine intervention of some sort, it landed back in the pan. “Uh? Wha? Did I miss breakfast?”
“No, dear, you’re making it. When you’re awake, at least.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Cake yawned. “I think I’m going to set the place on fire. Can you take over?”
“Sure thing.” Mrs. Cake stepped aside as Mr. Cake took the pan handle and spatula from her. “Cup Cake, you’ve been particularly out of it these past few days. Are you sleeping alright?”
“Not at all, to be honest. Something is bothering me.”
“Anything you want to talk about?” Mr. Cake asked. With expert control, the first pancake landed on a plate nearby.
“Very much.”
Mr. Cake poured more batter into the pan. “… I see. Well, when you can find the words, I’ll be here, sugar lump. In the meantime, why don’t you take the day off?”
“Day off?” Mrs. Cake blurted. “I can’t take the day off.”
“Sure you can!” Pinkie Pie cheered as she seemed to suddenly appear in the dining room. “Do you even know how many days it’s been since you relaxed? It’s been exactly one-hundred and forty-six. And the only reason was because you went to the hospital. Take a load off; your trust-wusty Pinkie Pie can take your place today.”
It took a moment for Mrs. Cake to get the image of Pinkie suckling out of her head. “N-no, no, I’m fine, really.”
“Nope-e-nope, I insist,” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. “It’s the least I can do for the best boss in whole world who lets me snack on the spare goodies nopony buys. Well, I guess you both do that, but there’s no way I can run Sugar Cube Corner and watch the twins, so I can only replace one of you at a time. Today that will be you, ‘cause I’ve seen you sleepy around here, and you need to go get your head clear so you can be in tip-top Cup Cake form.”
“Goodness gracious, deary, when do you find time to breath?” Mrs. Cake giggled.
“Oh, I breathe in through my nose when I’m talking. I just recently figured it out.”
“Anyway,” Mr. Cake interjected, setting some cut up and mushy pancakes on his children’s highchairs, “we can handle Fort Corner for the day. You go out and relax. Walk in the park or simple spa treatment, clear your head, and then we can talk.”
Mrs. Cake sighed. “Alright, fine. But you know I hate being useless. I’m going shopping.”
“I hate the market,” Mrs. Cake mumbled. “All those ponies overpricing their goods just because they’re the only ones that sell something, and then the ones acting like spoiled children when they have to sell cheap or don’t make a sale.” She walked in a huff. “At least the actual stores know how to help the customer.”
She walked into a building with a bottle and a safety pin posted on a sign. Inside, there were some shelves of items needed to take care of foals. A lanky blue stallion was reading a magazine at the front counter and looked up, waving with a cheery grin.
“Howdy, Cup Cake. Things alright with you?”
“Just fine, Boomer. How’s business?”
“Not booming at all.” They both shared a laugh. “So, how can I help one of my forcibly loyal customers this fine day?”
“The usual, Boomer. Restock on formula and diapers.”
“Well, you know where they are. Tell me if you need any service.” Boomer went back to his magazine.
“Thank you. I shouldn’t be long.” She walked to familiar path and grabbed the powdered milk, putting it in a bag. Same with two stacks of diapers. But her usual path led her past the pacifiers. She felt her mind melt like chocolate on a warm summer day.
What were you doing, Pinkie Pie? Why were you using one of Pumpkin’s dinkies?
Like so many things about Pinkie, this didn’t make sense. But this wasn’t a ‘Pinkie being Pinkie’ thing. There never was such a thing, Mrs. Cake knew. There was a method to all her madness, an obvious goal if not a clear plan. There was a smile as she did things, something that let Mrs. Cake know things would be fine.
Pinkie Pie wasn’t smiling all those times. She had an expression that Mrs. Cake couldn’t explain. If only she knew what it was…
“Mrs. Cake?” Boomer said from behind her.
“Yipes!” Mrs. Cake yelled before whirling around. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Boomer.”
Boomer shrugged. “Sorry, Cup Cake, but you were just standing there, staring at the dummies. A shopkeeper should assume that his customer has a question about dummies when she looks at them for five straight minutes.”
Mrs. Cake blushed. “Oh, sorry. It’s just… I’m curious about something.”
“Go on,” Boomer encouraged.
The question was said at random. She didn’t give any thought at all. At a later date, though, she would thank Celestia and Luna both that she asked it.
“Do they come in any larger sizes?”
Boomer’s eyelids lowered. “Mrs. Cake… how large are we talking?”
She blinked. “Huh?”
Boomer examined her up and down. “How large? Name a size. I think I can match it.”
Mrs. Cake felt herself pale a little at Boomer’s firm gaze. “I… huh?”
“Cup Cake, a toddler should grow out of it by two or three. If not, you need to force them to stop or it could screw up the way their teeth grow in. So, again, I offer you; Name a size.”
Mrs. Cake felt her heart beat for reasons she couldn’t make sense of. Did she dare risk Pinkie’s secret is the slightest, when she barely even touched the surface of the issue? Would this be going down the right path?
Mrs. Cake steeled her resolve. “Are you serious?”
“That depends; are you?”
She gulped. “Do you have them in larger sizes?”
“One more time, Cup Cake. Name a size.”
“…Adult.”
Boomer smiled a knowing smile before going to the front door. Mrs. Cake watched as he flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed.’ “Step into the back, Cup Cake. I think I have what you’re looking for. Maybe even a little extra.”
With hesitant steps, Mrs. Cake followed Boomer, her brain knowing the implications but not wanting to make the conclusion. She followed him into a back room and, to her astonishment, it was set up exactly as the front, only with more artificial light. Boomer motioned for her to follow, and he led her to the aisle that was parallel with the one in the front. Like the other one, it had pacifiers. Unlike the other ones, these pacifiers were large.
Mrs. Cake picked one up and stared at it as another pony might stare at a discovered piece of gold. “I… what…?”
Boomer interrupted, “Take a look around first. I’ll be at the ‘other front counter’ when you’re ready to talk.” He left her to explore. And explore she did. All was at it was in the front, except for two differences.
One; everything was sized for a pony that obviously wasn’t a baby. High chairs, toys, walkers, parts for cribs, and diapers. Mrs. Cake had seen store brand adult absorbent undergarments, but these weren’t like them. These were honest to goodness baby diapers, except not baby sized. Cloth or disposable, they were thick, long, and could handle a full job.
Two; there was more to choose from. The diapers alone came in a myriad of colors and designs. There were clothing and onesies that looked to be purposefully over frilled to be as embarrassing as possible. Then there were simply oversized baby clothes like overalls that had buttons along the bottom that would make changing easier. There were different flavors of formula, and she could even see that they were each specially designed with certain diets in mind.
After some time of browsing, Mrs. Cake came up to Boomer in a daze. Her mind and heart reeled. “What… is all this?”
Boomer set his magazine down. “What does it look like to you?”
“Don’t play with me now, Boomer! You know what I mean. Why are there adult sized diapers and toys and cribs, and, and… why is there baby things in adult sizes?”
Boomer smiled. “Ma’am, a question I pose. What make them baby things?”
“What do you mean? Babies use them!”
“Babies also breathe air. Babies eat. Babies sleep. Are these baby things?”
Mrs. Cake took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry I snapped. This is very strange to me.”
“I’m judging from your reaction you aren’t the foal.”
“Please, Boomer. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Boomer sighed. “Mrs. Cake, this here is a secret supply store of all things Adult Foal, as it’s called. I’ll put it simple; an Adult Foal is an adult with foal-like tendencies. They can talk and walk and behave just fine, but some part of them wants to do some of the things babies are allowed to do. Personally, I don’t think it’s quite that way. I think they just never wanted to stop, but were forced to because of standards. For some, they’ll say it makes them feel young. For others, they can’t give a response. But most will tell you that cuddling a stuffed animal, being wrapped snug in a diaper, and sucking on a dummy makes them feel safe.
“I secretly sell these items to those who want them. Here in my shop, I make, collect, and trade supplies for any foal, no matter how old they may be. Now, can I interest you in anything or do you have everything you need?”
Mrs. Cake gulped and rubbed a temple. “I’m overwhelmed. I can’t believe that a place like this exists.”
“Yet here it is.”
“How… how many customers do you have?”
“I can’t give away anything personal, but you’d be surprised. If everypony who shopped here suddenly went out in public dressed, you couldn’t look in any direction without seeing at least one.”
She had guessed it, but she had to hear it. “I’m not… this is crazy.”
“I guess that leaves us with you. Why did you come asking if you aren’t the foal? Are you finding one and feeling motherly?”
“M-Motherly?”
“Sure. Some foals have a parent that helps them be who they are. There’s no better feeling than the embrace of somepony you know loves you enough to take care of you. And those ponies love being a parent, love making a forever foal feel safe. Just like there are feelings in an Adult Foal that never want to give up certain childish things, there are those that, since birth, want to take care of others. Are you one of those, Mrs. Cake?”
Mrs. Cake unintentionally thought back to her younger years, the time spent playing with dolls and pretending they were alive, foalsitting and imagining the child was her own. The carnal need to protect and love sompony was forced into her face, and she was not prepared for it.
“I… I need to go.” Mrs. Cake turned to the door.
“There’s a special on dummies this week, Mrs. Cake,” Boomer called.
Mrs. Cake felt her lips scrunch as she considered it.
Much later that day, Mrs. Cake was sitting in the park after having realized she accidentally shoplifted the items she had meant to buy for Pound and Pumpkin. She had found a secluded area, devoid of anypony, and sat alone on a bench.
Upon her face she wore a small, excited smile. A thought replayed over and over in her head.
Of course.
She laughed at herself, thinking about all the time she had spent thinking to reach such a simple conclusion.
Of course I love my darling little Pie as if she were my daughter. If it wasn’t for her, I might have never had Pound and Pumpkin in the first place.
Of course Pinkie reminds me of a foal. She’s so sweet and innocent, so simple and pure. Her very being is an adult foal incarnate.
Of course I want her to be my baby. I can’t imagine life without her. I’ve always been a mother. She’s family no matter what. She my darling little Pie.
Of course.
Of course.
Now I understand. Of course I couldn’t recognize her expression. Pinkie has never worn it before. Jealousy, with some curiosity mixed in. She was wondering what it was like to be one of them.
Of course she looked just so right with a dinky in her mouth. She’s a forever foal, and I’m an eternal mother. That’s all there is to it.
Mrs. Cake let out a contended sigh, knowing that this was strange. But years of living with Pinkie showed her that standards were dumb. The best desserts and pastries they had were what Pinkie made in the bouncy mess that was her mind, so free and separated from everything. Beliefs were boring and pointless.
Now, what was she to do about this? Sure, she had made the shocking revelation that Pinkie desired to act like a foal.
Be the foal she really is, she corrected herself.
And she realized that she wanted to be Little Pie’s mother. But would Pinkie be receptive of the treatment or be too scared? And what about her husband? What would Carrot think of the whole thing?
Mrs. Cake decided that it was time to handle this in a rather Pinkie fashion. Pick a goal, and don’t stop until she got there.
Her goal was to be Pinkie’s mommy, and for Pinkie to be her foal. Ludicrous though it might have seemed, she determined that nothing was going to get in her way.
“Excuse me,” an elderly pony said. “But you’re scaring the pigeons away.”
Mrs. Cake blushed, realizing that somewhere in her inner monologue she had struck a dramatic pose on the bench she had been sitting on. With a blush and quick apology, Mrs. Cake hopped off and began the trot home.
“Are you still awake, dear?”
“Just barely, pudin’. Are you ready to talk about what’s bothering you?”
“Kind of. One thing at a time, I suppose.”
“Okay, I’m up. What’s nibbling at you?”
“Well… goodness, how do I start?”
“The beginning’s a good place.”
“There’s not really a good start, though. Alright, let me ask this; if you could have another child, would you?”
“Huh? Cup Cake, you know we couldn’t afford a third child. The only reason we can even pay for the twins is because of Pinkie Pie.”
“Just be hypothetical with me. Yes, it would theoretically be another mouth. But let’s say that wasn’t the case. Say that we wouldn’t need to spend that much more if anything, and still had the same amount to feed. Would you?”
“Are you suggesting firing our Pie?”
“I’m being hypothetical, dumpling. If we could have another foal to take care of, would you, yes or no?”
“… Of course. I love our babies, I wouldn’t mind a third. I’d be all for it, in fact.
“Of course. I noticed you were a little hostile when you thought I was suggesting getting rid of Pinkie.”
“Come on, don’t try to fool me. You know I love our Pie to death. She’s practically a third child already. I’d rather keep Pinkie than have another baby.”
“Hmm, I’m glad to hear. I love my darling little Pie as well. Just to be clear, though, if we could take care of another foal, you would?”
“Yeah, sure. Are you going anywhere with this, honey bun?”
“One step at a time. Do you remember why we decided to have kids in the first place?”
“We wanted a family, plain and simple.”
“But do you remember the exact conversation where the decision was made?”
“Probably not as well as you do. Enlighten me, if you could.”
“We were sitting at the table, and Pinkie had fallen asleep on the couch. You know how she gets when she realizes she has a moment where she’s not doing anything.”
“That girl can go and go, but when she stops, she just stops.”
“Right. We thought she was just the most adorable thing in the world, and we began talking about how like a foal she was.”
“Right, I remember this talk now. We were discussing her innocence, her curiosity, and how playful she is and how she loved making others happy. Just like a little filly.
“Mmh, hmm.”
“And we wanted a foal so we could have a baby we could really take care of.”
“So, can it be unanimously decided that we wanted to take care of Pinkie but couldn’t, thus we had the twins so we could take care of somepony?”
“…What exactly are you getting at?”
“Hold on, a few more questions. Have you thought about how long our babies will actually be babies?”
“Don’t remind me. They’re already close to being too old for bottles. Then we’ll have to potty train them, and then they’ll be rambunctious kids that will think their parents are a drag. I hate thinking that, eventually, they won’t want to be near us. I know we’re supposed to let our kids grow up, but somewhere along the way we’ll lose that tender bond we have now.”
“Yes, I know. But what if we could always have it? At least with one child.”
“And how would you suggest that?”
“We’d let that child always be a child. We’d let them suck on a bottle, change their diapers, feed them, bathe them, read them stories, all that and more while still letting the important parts be grown up.”
“Cup Cake, you’re suggesting a pretty radical idea. We can’t raise Pound and Pumpkin like that.”
“Remember, dear, I’m being hypothetical. If you could keep that tender bond with a foal and let them grow up at the same time, would you be willing to let them be a foal and take care of them as one?”
“…Until?”
“Until they wanted to stop on their own.”
“So even if they were an adult?”
“Yes. A grown filly or colt still wearing diapers, drinking from a bottle, and coming to their mommy or daddy for love. Would you put up with that to keep that tender bond? …Would you actually like doing that?”
“…Gee, I guess I would kind of like it, now that I think about it. If they were still growing up, becoming strong and dependable ponies, I could treat somepony as a foal for my whole life.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Is that it? What are you leading up to?”
“Well, honey, I think I know how to get that third foal and always feel like parents. There might be a big change or two, but I think things will stay remarkably the same. I just need to know if you’re willing.”
“Alright, give it to me. What’s your idea?”
“Well, there’s one more thing you should know. For the past couple of weeks, our little Pie has been watching over our little angels, late in the night…”
Pinkie Pie bounced down the stairs, into the dining room, and into her seat, humming the whole time.
“Good morning, my little Pie,” Mr. Cake said from the stove.
“Morning, my big Mr. Cake,” Pinkie giggled. “Sorry I’m kind of late for breakfast, but my alarm clock decided not to alarm today.”
Mrs. Cake said from the table, “Oh, no, that was my fault, deary. I turned your clock off to let you sleep in.”
Pinkie blinked. “Huh?”
“Just a little thank you for letting me take the day off yesterday. We actually decided that we’ll all take the day off, you included, so you haven’t missed anything.”
Pinkie grinned. “Wow, what are we celebrating? Should I get a party going?”
“No, not today,” Mr. Cake said, setting some plates on the table and his children’s high chairs. “How does French toast sound?”
“Almost as good as regular toast!” Pinkie responded. Mr. Cake began cutting Pound and Pumpkin’s toast, while Mrs. Cake sliced up a third plate that was drenched in the usual amount of powdered sugar and syrup that Pinkie ate. She noticed that a plate had not been set in front of her. “Um, where’s mine?”
“Right here,” Mrs. Cake said, lifting a piece up on a fork. “Open up.”
Pinkie stared at Mrs. Cake for a moment, then at the fork, then back at Mrs. Cake. “Um, w-what are you doing? I can feed myself, silly.”
“Oh! I forgot to ask you, didn’t I? I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m feeling particularly playful. I just thought we’d play a game this morning; I try to get the food in your mouth and you turn you head to stop me. The rules are you can only move your head, and I have to keep the fork straight ahead. Want to play?”
Pinkie looked dubious for a quarter of a second before her grin returned. “Okay!” The game turned out to be harder than Pinkie thought, as Mrs. Cake was an expert at distraction, using words and waving the fork around to confuse Pinkie. The pink pony did her fair share of dodging, though, getting sticky goo on her whole face when Mrs. Cake missed. Pound and Pumpkin laughed when they noticed the game and decided to play along with their father, getting just a messy.
“Looks like I win,” Mrs. Cake said as Pinkie Pie chewed on the last bite.
She swallowed. “That was fun! Can we do it again sometime?”
“Of course, whenever you feel like it,” Mrs. Cake said, bringing a warm wet rag to Pinkie’s face. She gently wiped the syrup and sugar away, and Pinkie felt strange.
“Um, you didn’t have to clean me, Mrs. Cake,” she said as her boss finished.
“Well, it only seemed right,” Mrs. Cake said. “A pony should always clean the mess they make, and I think I made a pretty big mess out of you. Besides, you don’t mind, do you?”
Pinkie felt her heart catch in her throat and found that she couldn’t lie. “Nope, I didn’t mind at all.” Her smile felt sincere in a way she didn’t understand.
“Alright, playtime,” Mr. Cake said as he put his children on the floor. Pound Cake beat his tiny wings and buzzed into the loving, Pumpkin magically hovering after.
“They grow up so fast,” Mrs. Cake sighed.
“They grow up too fast,” Mr. Cake said. “Pegasus foals aren’t supposed to fly, and I’m pretty sure Unicorns can’t fly until years of magical training.”
“Well, it’s any pony’s choice whether they grow up or not,” Mrs. Cake said. She had her eyes closed, but Pinkie got the distinct feeling the smile Mrs. Cake had was directed towards her.
Mr. Cake followed after his children, making his voice low and guttural as he said, “I’m hungry for some cake, and I want it now.”
Pinkie Pie giggled and hoped after him. “Ooh, ooh, I love this game. *ahem* Come out, little ponies, so the pink giant can have her fill too.”
In the living room, Mr. Cake and Pinkie prowled around, checking behind the furniture. Quite suddenly, Pound began pulling on Pinkie’s tail and Pumpkin landed on his father’s neck, chewing on his ear.
“Hey!” Pinkie shouted, turning around. Pound quickly flew out of her reach.
“Gotcha!” Mr. Cake shouted and reached back, but Pumpkin vanished and reappeared on his back.
Pinkie pretended to growl. “Get down here so I can tickle you!”
Pumpkin vanished again as Mr. Cake spun around. “Aw, forget it,” Mr. Cake groaned. “This giant isn’t in the mood for cake anymore.”
“Don’t quit yet,” Pinkie said as she jumped up and missed Pound by a fraction. “I’ll get ‘em.”
“Nope, I don’t want cake anymore,” Mr. Cake said as he snuck around Pinkie to get behind her. “I’m suddenly in the mood for pie.”
Pinkie stopped and scratched her head. “Pie? What does that mean?” Mr. Cake tackled Pinkie to the ground and began to tickle her ribs. Pinkie, naturally, laughed.
“H-hey!” Pinkie shouted between fits of giggles. “No f-fah! Fair! W-we’re supposed t-to be on th-the same team!” Pinkie laughed some more.
“Too bad, this giant needs some pie, and the giant always gets what he wants!” After a little bit, Pinkie was left huffing and puffing on the ground, Mr. Cake holding her in a tight hug.
“You *pant* cheater,” Pinkie said with another giggle.
“Sorry, my little Pie, but you looked too delicious.” Mr. Cake ran a hoof over her mane. “Have I ever told how much I love to hear you laugh?”
Pinkie thought about it for a second. “Nope, I don’ think so.”
Mr. Cake hugged her a little tighter. “Well, then, I’ll tell you now; I love to hear you laugh.” They both shared a giggle.
“Pie!” Pound shouted, landing on Pinkie and rubbing her belly. Pinkie tried to kick and flee, but Mr. Cake’s hug had become a grip.
“Cheaters!” Pinkie laughed as Pumpkin began to tickle her neck.
“Mwa, ha, ha!” Mr. Cake laughed, back in his ‘giant’ voice. “Looks like we all get pie this morning.”
“Alright, you giants,” Mrs. Cake said, walking past them. “Momma giant needs to go do some shopping she didn’t get to do yesterday. The house better not be a mess when I get back.”
“Okay, momma giant,” Pinkie replied, and her eyes shifted around and little. Oops. I hope she didn’t catch that.
Mrs. Cake smiled. “Alright. Be back soon, sweeties.”
“Howdy, Mrs. Cake,” Boomer said with a cheeky grin. “I see you’re back.”
“I am,” Mrs. Cake affirmed. She put some bits on the counter. “Sorry for running off without paying. I was fairly confused yesterday.”
“Eh, it happens,” Boomer said, waving it off.
Mrs. Cake took a deep breath. “Boomer… you’re right. I am a mother, and I’d like to always be one. But just like with my own babies, I have no clue what I’m doing. I have what I believe to be an Adult Foal, and I think she’s only just figuring it out herself.”
Boomer nodded gently and walked into the back room, Mrs. Cake following. “Don’t be nervous, Cup Cake. This isn’t a monster’s world you’re entering; it’s a world full of love and happiness.”
“Do you have a foal, Boomer?”
Boomer smiled. “Two, in fact. They’re such little darlings. I’m going to my eldest’s harp concert up in Canterlot next week, and the other owns a sweet shop you sometimes compete against. I love them to pieces. Now, let’s set you up with the basics.” Boomer put a box on his back. “Is your husband privy to this?”
“He’s all for it, in fact,” Mrs. Cake said.
“Ooh, your daughter is a lucky one. Most Adult Foals only get one parent. And I assume Pinkie’s the child?”
Mrs. Cake blushed. “I guess it is pretty obvious, isn’t it? What with how she is… what with how I am.”
Boomer nodded. “Right. So,” he walked down some isles, Mrs. Cake following, “since you’re not sure how much she’s into it, let’s start with the basics. Some dummies, some milk, bottles, and diapers. Every Adult Foal is different, and you’ll need to experiment with that. There’s a spot where they stop, some boundaries you don’t want to cross. She may or may not want to be bathed, or she might not mind either way. She might want a crib, she might not. She may just wet, she might not even do that.”
“Right, boundaries.”
“Knowing Pinkie, though, she’ll probably be full baby. But, again, just basics for now. Here’s the diapers.”
“Hmm,” said Mrs. Cake, examining them carefully. “They’re so thick.”
“It varies, but for most Adult Foals, thickness is equal to happiness. I think it makes them feel safe.”
“Alright, what’s the thickest you have, then?”
Boomer pointed to a stack of pink diapers. “Here’s the thickest disposable we have at present, in what I think would be the preferred color. For cloth, you can go as thick as you want. You just have to make sure you have the plastic pants for it. Or go for the all-in-one custom for a specific size.”
Mrs. Cake grabbed the stack of pink diapers. “These will do for now. After all, they look like they’ll make her waddle enough.”
“True enough,” Boomer said, taking the diapers and putting them in the box. “So, we got dummies, diapers, and bottles. Shall we say chocolate milk?”
Mrs. Cake nodded. “I think that will work.”
Boomer put the last item in the box and brought it to the counter. Mrs. Cake looked inside, feeling strange warmth within. She imagined her little Pie using the simple items inside and couldn’t stop her smile, knowing the items would be so much more than mere objects to herself and Pinkie.
“There we go,” Boomer said. “You’re all set.”
“Are you sure?” said Mrs. Cake, her voice wobbling. “I’m so worried I’m going to… no, I told myself I wasn’t going to falter or stop. I can do this. I’m going to make Pinkie my baby.”
Boomer chuckled. “That’s something you don’t hear very often. You must really love her already.”
Mrs. Cake kicked at the ground. “Well, I’ve secretly always wanted to baby her. It took seeing her look the part and you showing me all this,” she motioned with her hoof around the store, “to realize it. I owe you a lot.”
Boomer shrugged. “Think nothing of it. And here.” He pushed the box to her. “Free of charge.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hey, I did the same thing for Pound and Pumpkin. Like I said then; you’ll be back for fresh diapers, so I’ll make a profit in the long run.”
Mrs. Cake nodded and put the box, neatly closed up, on her back. “Really, thank you, Boomer. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have three little foals at home that need their momma.”
Pinkie ever so carefully placed another block at the top of the tower. It wobbled the slightest bit, but remained standing.
“Woo!” the four of them cheered.
“I don’t think it can get any taller,” Mr. Cake said.
“But Pound is trying!” Pinkie said whilst hopping. Pound was fluttering with another wooden block in his hooves, trying very carefully to put it at the top of the seven foot tall stack.
“I’m home!” Mrs. Cake yelled.
This surprised Pound, who tipped over and sent the tower crumbling to its doom. “Oops…” he said, looking at the pile. Mrs. Cake walked into the living room.
“What did I say about there being a mess?” Mrs. Cake said with faux annoyance.
“This mess is new, we swear!” Pinkie said. “We were making a ginormous tower, but then you walked in and it fell down, and what’s in the box?” Pinkie looked at the brown box on Mrs. Cakes back, hopping around her to look at it from every angle.
“A surprise for you, actually,” Mrs. Cake said.
“A surprise? I love surprises! Can I open it, can I, can I, can I?”
“No,” Mrs. Cake said, poking Pinkie Pie on the nose. “I’ll be the one to open it, in your room after Carrot puts the twins down for a nap.”
“Alright dear,” Mr. Cake said. “Is that the…?”
Mrs. Cake nodded.
“What is it, what is it?” Pinkie whined.
“Go up to your room and be patient,” Mrs. Cake said, but Pinkie disappeared halfway through the sentence. She turned to her husband. “Did you have fun?”
Mr. Cake blushed, putting his half-asleep children on his back. “Well, I… yes, I did. You were right; she is just like a foal when you get down to it.”
“I told you. Did you make them lunch?”
“Yep. Seeing Pinkie eat the peach mush made the twins go for it. I think she needs a bib, though.” He grinned.
Mrs. Cake playfully slapped her forehead. “I knew I forgot something. Next time?”
Mr. Cake blushed. “Yes… next time for sure. I’m ready to move forward, after this. I think I could be her father forever.”
Mrs. Cake felt warm inside. “I knew you would like this. Well, here goes. The first step into the rest of our lives.” She made to trot up the stairs to Pinkie’s room as Mr. Cake went to tuck the twins in for naptime. She found Pinkie patiently waiting on her bed, bouncing a little to the left and right. Mrs. Cake set the box down.
“Oh boy, what’s inside? I can hardly wait! Is it a new bed for Gummy?”
Mrs. Cake giggled and shook her head. “I’ll show you in a minute, my little Pie. But first there are some things you need to know, and I need you to be quiet. Can you do that?”
Pinkie vigorously nodded her head.
Mrs. Cake gave Pinkie a great big hug. “First, I need you to know that I love you. You are a very precious pony to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” She pulled back and saw Pinkie’s questioning gaze, but the pink mare remained silent. “Second, I need you to know that there isn’t a thing in the world you could do to make me hate you. You might frustrate me, you might confuse me, but never can you make me hate you. Do you understand?”
Pinkie slowly nodded her head, her eyes wide, confused, and mystified.
“Now, I need to ask; did you like how Carrot and I treated you today? Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”
Pinkie blushed. “Well… you played that game with me at breakfast, and Mr. Cake wanted to play at lunch with the peach stuff, so the twins would want to play. And you cleaned my face, and Mr. Cake did too. While you were gone, Mr. Cake made me want to play a lot with Pound and Pumpkin, and he was really huggy with me.”
“Tell me, would you like if we treated you like that all the time?”
Pinkie gulped. “I… what do you mean? What’s going on?”
Mrs. Cake smiled as warmly as she could. “You don’t need to hide or be afraid anymore, my little Pie. I know. I understand. Carrot and I both understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I know you’re up late every night, deary. You go into the twins’ room every night and stare at them.”
Pinkie’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “Oh no! Mrs. Cake, I’m not hurting them, I swear! I know it looks bad–”
Mrs. Cake gently shushed her ward. “It’s okay, little Pie. I know what you want.” She finally opened the box, reached inside, and pulled out a pink pacifier that was much larger than any pacifier Pinkie Pie had seen before.
Pinkie stared at it, jaw hanging, eyes wide. After a moment, she regained the use of her mouth. “Wha… what is it?”
“It’s a dinky, Pinkie.” Mrs. Cake giggled. “A dinky big enough for a filly about your size. And it can be your dinky, if you want it.”
Pinkie’s face flushed and her heart beat wildly.
“I saw you the night you tried one of Pumpkin’s dinkies. I didn’t understand at first, but I figured out what you want. No; I figured out what you are, and what I am. You are actually a little foal, and you haven’t been allowed to be that. And I am a mother, and I’ve wanted to be your mother for a long time. I just didn’t get it until I saw you being a foal with my own eyes. If this is what you’d like, my little Pie, it’s yours. Just be who you are and I will figure out what you need, like any mother needs to do for a foal.”
Pinkie stared at the pacifier a few more moments before her eyes filled with tears, and the tears streamed down her face. “I… M… M…”
“Go ahead, deary,” Mrs. Cake said, tears forming in her own eyes. “Remember what I told you; I love you, and could never, ever hate you.”
“M-M-Momma!” Pinkie Pie cried as she buried her face in Mrs. Cake’s – her mother’s – shoulder. “Momma! I want my Momma!”
“Go ahead,” Momma Cake said through her own tears, rubbing her daughter’s back. “Let it out. Momma’s here.” She placed the pacifier in Pinkie’s mouth, and her daughter cried around it.
“Momma!” Pinkie sobbed, muffled by her new dinky. Slowly her sobs became moans, and then her moans became whines until she only suckled. Momma Cake pulled Pinkie back and got a good look at her.
“There we are,” Momma Cake said, feeling her heart about to break in two. She sniffled. “That’s right. I’m your Momma, and will be so for as long as you need me to be.” She wiped Pinkie’s tears and tenderly ran a hoof over her mane. “You can be a foal for as long as you want, and however much you want.” She reached into the box, pulling out a bottle, a can of formula, and a diaper. “This is just to get started. I’m willing to do so much more for you, my precious Pie. I’ll feed you, I’ll give you baths, we’ll get you a crib and make your room a nursery, if you want any of that. All I want in return is for you to be happy.”
Pinkie gazed in wonderment at the simple objects. “Dey’re… Dey’re shized fer me,” she said around her dinky.
Momma Cake nodded. “Yes. You’re not alone, my little Dinky Pie. There are other foals just like you, with mommies and daddies that love them just as much as I love you. I found the store where they shop, and I brought these for you. That’s your dinky, and this is your bottle, and you have your milk, and these are your diapers.”
Pinkie’s eyes brimmed with tears again. “M-Momma…”
“Now, let’s get you snug in your brand new diapers.” Mamma Cake slowly lowered her daughter down onto the bed and unfolded the diaper. With care that came from practice, Momma Cake slid the padding under Pinkie’s bottom, tugging her thick and bouncy tail through the hole made for it. Momma Cake pulled the front up and over, securely taping the large diaper over most of Pinkie’s belly. She looked at her work and giggled at the only slightly brighter garment Pinkie now wore. “There, nice, safe, and snug. Do you like this? Do you want to always wear thick diapers around your tush?”
Pinkie sniffed, suckled, and nodded all at once. “Are yoo shure?” Pinkie asked with her eyes filled with both longing and fear. “Yoo’d change and c’een a gwown mare?”
“Of course not. I’d change and clean a big foal, which is exactly what you are.” Momma Cake leant down and gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek.
There was a knock at the doorway. “Can I come in now?” Mr. Cake said. Pinkie’s face turned red and she covered herself with her hooves.
“You may, honey. Your new daughter is ready”
Mr. Cake stepped inside and saw Pinkie cowering and hiding her face. “There’s no need to be ashamed, Pinkie Pie. I can see your diaper just fine, after all.”
Pinkie made a little whine, but slowly pulled her hooves away. Mr. Cake saw her big, tear filled eyes and heard as she sucked on her dinky to sooth herself.
Poppa Cake felt his heart swell. “There we are, my little Pie. We wouldn’t want to hide that beautiful face from the world, would we?” He bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, nuzzling her cheek afterwards. He stepped back to let Pinkie sit up.
She looked at each of her new parents in turn. “Momma… Poppa…” Pinkie gave the happiest smile any of the Cakes had ever seen. They sat on the bed, each on one of Pinkie’s sides, and hugged her tightly.
“You’re our little Pie, and we will always love you no matter what,” Poppa Cake said as he found himself crying.
“You’re our foal, and we are your parents,” Momma Cake affirmed before biting back a hiccup.
“I love you!” Pinkie Pie squealed, sobbing once more. “I love you both so much!”
Momma Cake trudged through the darkened hallway, smacking her lips in an attempt to alleviate the dryness in her mouth. She trudged by her twin’s bedroom and realized something. She poked her head inside to see her babies sleeping peacefully, nopony else there but them. Momma Cake checked on them, giving them a kiss each and a simple ‘sleep tight.’ She then went to her other baby’s room across the hall. She opened the door and smiled at the sight. She walked over to the crib and felt her heart about to burst
Her little Pie was sleeping soundly, splayed out on her belly, hugging the large, fuzzy pillow the top half of her body was laying on. The bottom half needed no such thing; her diaper was more than enough. Every couple of seconds, the sleeping mare would suckle her dinky, or wiggle her legs to feel that her diaper was still there to keep her safe. Momma Cake gave her little Pie’s diaper a poke. As expected, it was wet, but not enough to constitute a late night change.
The irony did not go unnoticed to Momma Cake as she watched her little Pie slumber. She didn’t feel like she wanted to take Pinkie’s place, to be sure, but she could watch any of her darlings for hours, simply because it filled her with joy. But she knew she’d have just as much time with them in the day.
Momma Cake sighed and thought about the strange difficulties she was facing. Her other babies were confused about such a big foal, and would no doubt remain confused for a while. And she still couldn’t keep up with Pinkie’s seemingly endless energy. Pinkie couldn’t be the foal that she was all the time, and it obviously frustrated her.
But for every challenge, there was a greater reward. Pound and Pumpkin much more easily listened to Pinkie, and Pinkie even seemed to be able to translate their own needs for the often confused parents. And that infinite energy was subdued, more focused, and Pinkie even seemed to make more sense somehow. And it was worth the wait, to know that when she got home or when the day’s work ended Momma or Poppa Cake would swaddle Pinkie, put her in a diaper, and let her know that they loved her in all the little ways that they could.
Momma Cake bent down over the crib’s gate and gave her little Pie a tender kiss on her cheek. “Sleep tight, my little Dinky Pie,” she whispered into her ear.
Pinkie cooed and smiled around her dinky. “Nigh’, nigh’, Momma…”
With that, Momma Cake continued through the night.
