Having Your Cake and Eating Her Out Too.

by Your Antagonist

Rating: mature
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Sex, Sweetie Belle, Cake Twins, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Silver Spoon, Scootaloo
Length: 54125

Pound Cake has never had much luck with girls, but tonight fate's gunning to break that trend. The only question is: how do you want it to play out?

The sexual pressures of adolescence are an exhausting affair for a sixteen year old— just ask Pound Cake. Between an awkward family life and crippling unpopularity with girls, the poor colt can only find reprieve in old swimsuit issues and spent tissue paper. But tonight, fate has something special in mind for the colt and the only question is: How do you want it to end?

A clopfic with multiple scenarios.

Coverart was a commission courtesy of the lovely Kill Joy. Do not use without either my or his permission. Seriously, just ask.

Published 2013-11-07 21:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-16 23:01:17 UTC

Side A: Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too (Big Sister is Watching)

Side A: Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too (Big Sister is Watching)

Warning/Disclaimer: The following chapter contains erotic incest between fictional, fraternal twin horses. If this offends you, the writer humbly requests that you stop and pick another outcome or remember that once upon a time there were no fewer than ten ancestors of human beings on the planet earth, which means that no matter who you fuck in life, they will always be a distant cousin. Always.

Having Your Cake and Eating Her Out Too

Written By: Your Antagonist

Side A: Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too (Big Sister is Watching)

Upon reaching his room, Pound hurled himself upon his bed, seized a pillow from under his covers and heaved a deep sigh into it. Between an earlier wake up than he was used to, rushing out a six hour catering service in four, and having the hopes and dreams of his youth crushed, it was safe to say that he was utterly exhausted. From what he’d gathered, the party was supposed to run until the mid hours of morning the next day, so he could afford to clock out for an hour or two.

Rolling over, Pound felt the crumple of pages beneath his covers. Curious, he drew out the article in question and found it to be an old swimsuit issue of a sports magazine, with the pages surprisingly not stuck together. Deciding that a little pre-nap ‘stress relief’ was in order, he began to flip through it until he found a spread of a younger Wonderbolts Commander Spitfire. Jackpot,he thought, reaching for a nearby bottle of lotion. With a light squirt onto his soon-to-be-aching member, be began to gently rub it in, keeping his eyes focused on an especially saucy shot of the flaming-maned mare lying on her side, trailing a hoof down her string bikini-adorned hips as though to say: “Here I am stud, come and get me.”

“Oh, I’ll get you all right…” Pound whispered, feeling himself growing harder with each passing stroke of his hoof. He turned his attention to the other page and found an even spicier picture of Spitfire with her mane soaked and her rump towards the camera, a hoof tugging at the fabric of the bikini as though she were going to draw it down slowly. “Yeah,” he moaned, “take it off slow…”

Pound was in the process of reaching for another squirt of lotion when he heard an exceptionally violent sneeze from the hallway accompanied by the sound of his door crashing open as though it had been struck with a cannon shell. Pound immediately shot up in his bed and threw the magazine under the covers, making sure to grab a pillow to conceal his erection from the source of the sound. Cautiously leaning forward to look at his door, he found the source of the interruption in the form of his sister. “Oww… my horn…” she moaned, rubbing the sore appendage.

“What the— Pumpkin!?” Pound cried.

The unicorn froze like a deer caught in headlights. Slowly, she turned her head and met her brother’s wide, fear-filled eyes. “Oh, Crap.”

“What are you doing!? In here!? Right now!?”

“G-Geez, calm your flank, you twit.” Pumpkin picked herself off the ground and turned her nose up at her brother indignantly. “If you must know, I just came from downstairs and was on my way to my room when I sneezed and tripped into your room. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Pumpkin turned to take her leave when something occurred to her brother.

“Wait a minute… your room’s down the hall.”

Pumpkin froze where she stood. “I-I meant the bathroom, you dweeb!”

“The bathroom’s next to your room,” Pound pointed out.

“Ngh… just shut up and mind your business.”

“This is my business.”

Pumpkin scoffed at her brother, rounding the blatant show of disrespect by saying “Whatever, loser,” before turning to make her exit.

Pound wasn’t ready to let Pumpkin off so easily. Throwing the covers aside, he jetted from the bed like a brown-maned bird of prey with a quickly-receding erection, hurtling towards his sister with dangerous velocity.

“What the— oof!” Pumpkin coughed as Pound tackled her to the hallway floor.

“Tell me what you were doing outside my room!” Pound demanded as he struggled to restrain his sister’s hooves.

“Gah! Get off of me, you idiot!”

“Not until you talk!”

“I told you to mind your own business!”

“And I told you that this is my business!”

“Don’t touch me with that sticky gunk on your hooves, you jerk!”

“Wait, what’d you just say?”

“I said get off of me!”

“No, that insult… why would you say that unless… unless you knew what I was doing?”

Pumpkin’s eyes widened as she realized just what very critical context clue her brother had just zeroed in on.

“Were you just…”

“Shut up.”

“You were… weren’t you?”

“I said, shut up, before you say something I’ll make you regret.”

Pound ignored his sister’s threat and pressed his dagger ever deeper into the heart of the issue. “You were standing outside my door watching me, weren’t you?”

Pumpkin scowled at her brother and indignantly whipped her head away, not even uttering so much as an insult, the universal sign for “Yes, you caught me red-hoofed”.

“Tell me why you were watching me, Pumpkin,” Pound said.

Only a stubborn silence answered him.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Again, no response.

Pumpkin’s silence only served to further agitate her brother. There were only so many things he could do to make her talk, and almost all of them would have involved taking his hooves off of her, allowing her chance to escape, and he couldn’t risk that. He needed to know.

Pound’s eyes drifted up from Pumpkin’s face to her horn. In that moment, he recalled a very interesting fact about unicorn physiology that he’d learned from various ‘racial harmony and sensitivity’ classes that his family had attended over the years: unicorn horns are very, very sensitive to touch. The nerve concentration in the horn of a unicorn is so great that it essentially acts as an amplifier towards any sensation applied to the appendage. Oh, and he had quite the sensation to inflict.

“Last chance to talk, Pumpkin…” Pound flexed a wing before himself and began inspecting his feathers.

This caught the pinned Pumpkin’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“If you start talking, then you won’t have to find out.”

Pumpkin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Can you just let me go to my room now?”

“The hard way it is.” Pound bit a long, loose feather from his plumage, brandishing it in his teeth. “You know, I really wish it didn’t have to come down to this, but…” With no word or warning he leaned forward and began to violently tickle his sister’s horn with the feather.

Pumpkin did her best to resist the intensified strokes of the feather as they played across the rings of her horn. She grit and ground her teeth, tried to turn away, and even tried to kick with each of her immobilized legs, but it was to no avail. Pound was far too heavy, and her horn was far too ticklish; it was only a matter of seconds before she broke. “Stop it! Hahaha! Stop it! I’ll kill you! Kyahaha! Cut it out!”

“Not until you start answering me!”

“Ple-he-he-hease stop! Kyahaha! I’m begging you!”

“Then start answering me!”

“I can’t!” she coughed in between cackles.

Pound, sensing something reminiscent of a breakthrough, pulled back and spat his feather out. “Why not?”

“You… you wouldn’t understand,” she said in melancholy.

His interest further piqued, Pound rose an eyebrow. “Well, then, in that case…” he bit another feather from his wing and advanced menacingly upon his sister.

“Wait, wait!” Pumpkin pleaded. “I’ll… I’ll tell you, just don’t tickle my horn.”

“All right then.” Pound spat the feather out. “Let’s hear it.”

“Could you get your fat flank off me too?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Fine, fine…” Pumpkin heaved a decisive breath before finding the courage to look her brother in the eyes. “Okay, yes, I was watching you while you were… you know…”

“You’ve come this far, you might as well say it.” Pound was truly enjoying the dominance that this role reversal was offering him.

“Masturbating…” Pumpkin snapped quickly with a glare that lasted all of a second as her features once again grew soft and submissive. “But… well… it was only because… it was because I was jealous, okay?”

“Jealous?” That hadn't quite been the response he was expecting.

“Yes, jealous.” Pumpkin sighed and prepared to spill her guts. “Because every time I see you talk to other fillies, hear you moan Rarity or some other mare’s name, or see how flustered you get around auntie, I… I wish it was me, all right?”

“Pumpkin…”

“I know that it’s stupid and wrong because you’re my little brother, but when I watch you like I did this morning, I just wish that you’d moan my name by accident or something… I know it sounds stupid, but I really wish you would… there, I said it. Are you happy now?” A tear began to form in her big blue eyes, but she turned away, hiding her face with her mane before it could fall. “Go ahead and laugh or whatever, I don’t care anymore… fucking jerk.”

Pound had no words for what had just worked its way through his ears. Had his sister, his older-than-himself-by-eight-minutes twin sister of sixteen years just professed her love? To him? It certainly explained a lot of her odd behavior as of late. The increased instigation of conflict over incredibly trivial matters, the odd mutterings under her breath, and maybe, just maybe there was cringe-worthy possibility that her earlier ‘frosting sampling’ had something to do with it as well.

A sniffle from the unicorn under his hooves snapped Pound back to reality. He looked down and, for the first time in his life, whether by fluke or by circumstance, actually looked at his sister as a mare and not just a sibling.

Despite her usual petty, bratty disposition, she was actually quite pretty, not that he’d ever thought her to be especially bad looking, but he’d just never paid her looks much attention before. Even when they were welling up with tears, those spunky blue eyes of her’s were like fine-cut sapphires full of mischief and rebellion. A perfect complement to that short-cut wildfire of a mane she’d always topped off with a blue ribbon.

He could feel his face growing flush and flustered as his eyes traveled down her surprisingly shapely body. Her overindulgence of a sweet-tooth had lent her the physical foundation and curvaceous potential of their mother, though she had yet to fully inherit all of the robustness that Cup possessed. That’s not to say she wasn’t packing a little bit of pudge over her midsection, she just happened to wear it better, namely in the hips and hindquarters.

Pound shook his head violently, forcing himself to regain his focus. This was his sister he was checking out here. His sister. Even after hearing her heartfelt confession, how could he possibly return those feelings? He certainly loved her as a sibling—or as much as one could love a menace like Pumpkin— but this? This was a whole other matter completely. It would have been a taboo, no, an abomination to accept those feelings, and yet, having seen Pumpkin put her heart on the ground before him… There were a lot of things Pound took great pleasure in crushing under his hooves, but he wasn’t sure how he’d feel trotting away from this encounter with the residue of his sister’s affection sticking to his legs.

With a heavy heart, he pulled himself off of his twin and even offered her a hoof up, which she took to her haunches. Feeling understandably ashamed and humiliated, Pumpkin didn’t dare look the object of her affections in the eye, and Pound didn’t pursue her gaze either. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like a small eternity, both searching in vain for the right words to smooth over the rift that had just grown between them, but found themselves coming up short.

After what seemed like one awkward moment too long, Pumpkin finally found the courage to speak, though her words would only serve to delay the matter rather than offer a much desperately needed resolution. “Hey… I’m… I’m just gonna go to my room, all right?”

Pound said nothing, only mustering enough courage to look his sister in her heartbroken eyes.

Pumpkin dared for one last look at her beloved brother, then turned for the hallway. She didn’t get far. She could feel something heavy on her tail stopping her from moving.

“What are you doing?” She asked, not even bothering to turn around and look her impeder in the eyes.

It was Pound’s turn to give his sister the silent treatment.

“What are you doing?” she almost sobbed this time.

Again, he did not speak. Instead he trotted forward and draped a wing over his sister’s back, nuzzling her warmly as he did so.

“But… but…” Tears began to stream out of the confused Pumpkin’s eyes.

Pound, keeping in theme with his silent affection, wordlessly laid down his wing, gently urging Pumpkin to do the same.

She complied with her brother’s unspoken instruction, sniffling, tear-ridden, and rambling nonsensically as she went. “You shouldn’t, Pound. We can’t… because… because I’m your dirty sister… your dirty, disgusting older sister who watches while you… while you…”

“Pumpkin,” Pound interrupted, wiping a tear from the unicorn’s eye before she could cry any further. “Shut up,” he instructed softly as he hugged her closer with his wing.

“Thanks for this… you dweeb,” she giggled, contentedly melting into Pound’s embrace.

“No problem, sis.”

The pair laid on the floor of Pound’s bedroom, time slipping through their hooves but neither party truly giving a damn. Pound was still somewhat conflicted about this whole ordeal, but at the moment, as far as he was concerned, Pumpkin was content and that was the most important thing. She’s actually kind of cute when she isn’t being a brat, he thought.

“Hey, Pound?” Pumpkin asked, though her voice was almost completely muffled as she had buried her face into her brother’s coat. “The floor’s hard…”

“Yeah, it is,” Pound replied.

“And it’s cold…” she whined.

“A bit.”

“We should continue this in your bed,” Pumpkin boldly suggested.

“Yeah, we should,” Pound agreed. He began to lift his wing from around his sister’s back, but her hoof quickly shot up to stop it.

“I’ve got it,” she said. “Besides, I don’t get to do this often enough.” Before Pound could say anything, Pumpkin’s face was screwed up in concentration, her horn enveloped by shimmering blue light that was quickly spreading across her body to his own. The veil of magic lingered for only a moment before the world literally cracked out of existence in a flash of light and smoke. Pound’s world was darkness for all of an instant when the light and colors of his room snapped back.

The first thing he noticed aside from the fact that he was, oddly enough, staring at a wall, was that the cold, hard floor of his room had been replaced by the familiar comfort of his hastily-made bed. An exhausted groan from beside him directed his attention to his sister. “You alright, sis?”

“I’m fine,” she claimed, rolling out from Pound’s wing and onto her back. Looking up at Pound, she continued, “Just a little spent from casting that teleportation spell.”

“We could have just walked it you know. My bed’s like… only ten feet from the door.”

“Yeah, but my way was cooler.” She weakly tugged her brother’s foreleg suggestively in the hopes that he might drape it over her shoulder.

“A little,” he agreed, moving to comply with her unspoken request.

Pumpkin giggled as she burrowed her face into Pound’s chest. While he still wasn’t one hundred percent certain about how to feel cuddling with his sister, there was no denying that he thoroughly enjoyed the comfort of her warm flesh against his on a physical level. It didn’t hurt that she smelled nice either, her mane and coat having absorbed the scent of the spices and fruits she'd been cooking with. Pound leaned forward into her mane and inhaled deeply, allowing his senses to be overwhelmed by Pumpkin’s intoxicatingly sweet aroma.

The longer he held her, the more he was able to attune himself to his sister’s state of being. Her slow, steady breathing was soothing to him, matched only by the occasional whine or soft utterance of his name.

“Hey, Pound?” Pumpkin asked, snapping her brother from his amorous trance.

The colt glanced down to find a wide pair of sapphire eyes staring back at him with a fragility that could make glass look like diamond.

“Is this… y’know… okay with you?" Pumpkin asked, her tone suggesting that she was uncertain as to whether or not she truly wanted the answer.

Pound took a moment to truly mull the question over. Suffice it to say, any guilt he’d been feeling up to this point had all but vanished. “I guess so.”

“You mean it?” Pumpkin breathed, daring to inch her face closer.

He gently stroked his sister’s cheek with a hoof. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Pumpkin, delighted by this turn of events, took her brother's hoof and began to lightly nibble on it, as she was prone to do in these rare moments of observable giddiness.

“Hey, cut that out,” Pound protested playfully.

“Or what?” Pumpkin challenged, shuffling closer.

“Or I’ll… I’ll…“

Pumpkin bit her lower lip as she took the boldest leap of all. “You’ll what?” she teased, moving to close the distance between them to the point that she could feel Pound’s nervous breath on her lips.

Face to face, the twins stared each other down, mere inches and quickly fading trepidation the only barriers separating the two. There was a tenseness between them as a thousand possibilities flowed in and out of their minds. On an impulse, Pound swallowed back his timidity and leaned forward, his lips soon finding purchase on his sister’s own. Pumpkin, very much pleased by this, pressed forward to maximize her own enjoyment of the rash action. Pound pulled away from the kiss, eyes wide, as he tried to process what had just transpired.

“Did… did we just…?”

“Mmhm.”

“Pumpkin, I… I…”

“Shut up and come here.” Pumpkin seized her brother by the cheeks and pulled him back for a harder, deeper kiss. Pound did not fight the caress of his sister’s lips, instead allowing himself to be overtaken by the swell of passion that came with it. He could feel the unicorn smiling, her indulgence imprinting on his mouth as she pressed even harder into the show of affection.

As Pumpkin hungrily attacked her brother’s lips, Pound found himself getting into the spirit of things, his hooves sliding down her neck to find purchase around her hips and back. His sister giggled at this and decided to up the ante of their second little kiss. Much to her brother’s surprise— which in turn would go to feed her own unspoken delight—, Pumpkin boldly slipped her tongue in and began exploring the unfamiliar tastes and textures of her beloved brother’s mouth.

Pound could feel himself getting caught up in the moment, his hooves rubbing and caressing the soft flesh of Pumpkin’s flank. There was no denying that he was getting turned on, but there was no stopping or hiding it either. Pumpkin was too close and he couldn’t stop working his hooves against her. It was only a matter of time before his arousal made itself quite evident.

“He-hey, you jerk!” Pumpkin giggled out of the blue, breaking the kiss. “Don’t poke me in the belly, I’m ticklish!” She lightly swatted her brother’s nose.

“But I’m not…” It took Pound a moment to realize that an erection had manifested itself at some point during the make-out session. His member gave another involuntary twitch and Pumpkin in turn gave another stifled giggle as his cock grazed her belly.

“Pound, I said cut it out!” Pumpkin reached down and seized the offending appendage in her hooves, unaware that she’d caused her brother to wince. “Geez, what’s up with your hoof? It’s all warm and squishy and…” Pumpkin whipped her hooves away as soon as she realized just what she was fondling. “Oh my gosh! Pound, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to grab your… I’m sorry.”

Pound rolled away defensively, nervously holding his cock between his hooves and thighs. “N-no, it’s all right,” he said. “It’s just, well… I mean it’s not that weird. We’ve been sitting here making out and… I guess it was bound to happen.”

An uncomfortable silence blew between the teens, neither so much as stirring on the bed.

“Hey…” Pumpkin started, breaking the awkwardness.

“Y-yes?” Pound turned his head slightly to see his sister nervously nibbling a hoof, doing her best to avoid looking directly at him.

“Did it… did it feel good when I touched it?”

“…A little.” Pound admitted.

“Did you like it?”

“Well, it was a little weird, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.”

“Can I… I mean, would you mind if I, y’know… touched it again?”

Pound rubbed his neck uncertainly as he mulled her request over. Having decided that he’d already wandered too far into this familial fire garden to turn back, he sighed, rolled over and pulled his hooves away. “Just…” I can’t believe I’m about to say this to my sister. “…be gentle, all right?”

Pumpkin smiled in response. “Got it.” She turned her attention to Pound’s erect cock. “Wow, it’s bigger than I thought,” she marveled as she gently stroked the broad, veiny underside.

Pound winced as Pumpkin brought her hoof back for another, firmer caress, letting out a soft moan as the foreign sensation of another pony’s touch pierced his sensitive loins. Pumpkin smirked as she took note of his facial expression. “Am I doing it right?” she asked, rhythmically rubbing him while carefully tracking which spots gave the biggest and best reactions.

“Y-yeah,” Pound responded breathily. He was trying his damndest to relax, but the sensation of Pumpkin’s soft hoof on his rock-hard member was just too good. He gasped as Pumpkin brought her other hoof into the equation and began stroking him off harder and faster than before. Pound was just starting to really get into the hoofjob when Pumpkin stopped, leaving him understandably disappointed and wanting for more. “Why’d you—” Pound cut himself off as he locked eyes with his sister. “Uh, something on your mind?”

“I want to try something,” she answered.

“Okay… sure? What are you going to do?”

“I want to see what it tastes like,” is what Pound could have sworn he heard her say in response, but he wasn’t certain. “I didn’t catch that, run that by me one more time?”

Pumpkin ignored her brother, instead choosing to direct her focus to the penis cradled in her hooves and swallowed nervously. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself. The unicorn opened her mouth as wide as she could manage and leaned in towards her twin’s nethers. As her tongue was lolling out of her mouth, it was the first part of her to make contact with the head of her beloved sibling’s cock.

Almost immediately, she could feel it twitch from the contact. Pumpkin didn’t hesitate to wrap her lips around the circumference of the thing. She could taste her paramour’s strong masculine musk and feel her tongue cooling and quelling the heat radiating from his shaft.

Pumpkin took another inch into her mouth, eliciting a low, effeminate moan from Pound, who was doing his best to keep from bucking his hips lest he choke his sister with the girth. Still, it was a task in itself. It felt like the moist warmth of Pumpkin’s tongue was melting the tip of his cock away while arousing an insatiable itch that could only be scratched with more stimulation.

Another inch and she wasn’t even halfway yet. Pound grit his teeth and clenched his eyes as Pumpkin began to explore her new treat further with her tongue. Every so often she would find a sweet spot that produced a stronger twitch or roused a hearty buck from her brother’s hips, and she would linger there, teasing, tickling and sucking at the spot until she found an even bigger reaction elsewhere.

For the sake of catching her breath, Pumpkin pulled off of her brother with a “pop”. “Am I doing a good job, dweeb?” she asked, punctuating the question with a slow, sharp lick from the base of Pound’s shaft, stopping just before she reached the tip.

“Yeah… it feels so fucking good.”

She gave the tip a passionate peck of kiss before posing her next question. “How do you like the feel of your big sister’s mouth, huh?”

“It’s s-so d-damn good.”

Pumpkin rose an amused eyebrow. “Oh, is it?”

“Yeah…” Pound panted, shivering as his sister’s warm breath blew across his wet and wanting flesh.

“I think you’re lying to me… I don’t think you want this.” Pumpkin swirled her tongue around her brother’s aching hard-on, finding the experience similar to eating a melting cake-pop, and twice as delightful.

“I—ahn—” Pound gripped at his blankets. “I want this! Oh Celestia, I want this!”

Pumpkin bit her lower lip in excitement. “I want to hear you beg for my mouth.”

“Pumpkin, please—”

“Call me big sister,” she growled.

“Big sis,” he complied, “I’m begging you to continue!”

“So, you want your big sister to keep sucking this big, dirty thing with her cute little mouth?”

“Y-yeah, please, keep sucking your little brother’s dirty cock with your perfect mouth.”

Pumpkin smirked; she’d completely reasserted herself as the dominant sibling once again, and made Pound acknowledge it. Far as she was concerned he deserved a little reward. “You’re a hopeless little dweeb.” Pumpkin moved up and seized her brother’s lips with her own before returning to his shaft. “But you’re my hopeless little dweeb.” She didn’t waste any time taking him even deeper into her mouth than before. He could feel his flat tip hit the back of her throat and her lovely little tongue working frantically to lubricate every inch of him for the sake of going even further.

Pound was on the verge of surrendering to Pumpkin’s overwhelmingly pleasurable mouth when the sudden and very startling sound of clumsy hoofsteps coming from down the doorway caused him to freeze up. It was at this moment that Pound realized something terribly, terribly wrong: he’d forgotten to shut his room door.

“Hehe, where’d you go little lead hooves~?”

Pound panicked. Fortunately for himself and Pumpkin, Scootaloo had tripped and landed face first in the doorway, but that only gave the colt enough time to make a very poor snap decision. Now, he certainly could have just pulled Pumpkin off of his length and the pair could have played off the odd circumstance as though they were enjoying each other’s company as opposed to committing romantic taboo. Instead, he overreacted. Grabbing his sister by the cheeks, he full-on hurled Pumpkin to the floor and tossed his blanket over her as well.

“What the hay, you stupid dwee—”

“I’ll apologize after! Now stay quiet!” Pound hissed, pointing at the door. Pumpkin immediately understood what he meant and complied, wrapping the blanket around herself. Pound then seized a nearby pillow and used it conceal his raging erection just as Scootaloo picked herself up and sauntered ungracefully into the room.

“Hey there, little lead hooves,” she slurred, stumbling forth. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding out, huh?”

Pound couldn’t quite put his hoof on it, but there was something quite off about Scootaloo. Her cheeks were flushed, the pupils of her half-lidded violet eyes had dilated, and she giggled uncontrollably to herself. Pound wondered what was wrong with her for a only a moment longer when he noticed that, tucked under her wing, was a bottle of hard cider from Sweet Apple Acres, and the issue was suddenly plain as day: she was loaded like an artillery shell.

“You… you know… I was lookin’ for you down at the party…” Scootaloo managed another three steps before losing her balance and crashing into the lump of blankets that comprised Pumpkin’s hiding place. Pound was impressed to hear nary a yelp of pain from his sister as the much weightier pegasus crashed into her. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, picked herself right up and continued to crawl towards the bed as though nothing had happened. “Yeah, I was lookin’ for you, and you… you weren’t there.”

“Oh… sorry, I was really beat after the party preparations, so I came up here for a quick nap.”

“Yeah?” Scootaloo tilted her head as she asked the question.

“Yeah, I was going to head back down there after I woke up though.”

“Mmm… sounds good, I could go for a little nap myself…”

“Oh, really?” Making sure to keep the pillow in place, Pound sat up straight so he could better communicate with Scootaloo. “There’s a spare room just down the hall on the left, I’m sure mom and pop wouldn’t mind—”

The older pegasus pushed him back with a hoof, that she kept firmly planted on his chest as she crawled upon the bed. “Nah, this one will do just fine.”

“T-This one?” Pound asked nervously as Scootaloo whipped the half-full bottle from under her wing with her free hoof, and drained the contents with vampiric efficiency.

Tossing the now-empty bottle to the side where it once again hit the bundle of blankets Pumpkin had taken refuge in, Scootaloo began to paw playfully at Pound’s chest. “Yeah, this bed’s perfect. It’s got everything a growing mare needs for a good night’s sleep: blankets, pillows, and best of all…” Scootaloo leaned in close to Pound’s ear and whispered in the sultriest tone she could manage without slurring. “…a fuckable little teddy colt to keep me company for the night.”

Pound had scarcely a moment to react when his overeager companion threw a hind leg over his waist and straddled him. “Wait, what are you—”

Without missing a beat, Scootaloo leaned down and stole his lips with her own, Pound wincing as the taste of hard liquor burned his taste buds. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the scowling sapphire eyes of his sister and a faint blue light burning beneath the blankets that concealed her. It wouldn’t have taken Twilight Sparkle to deduce that beneath those covers lay a furious unicorn who was ready to lash out if the scene before her went any further than it already had. Pound couldn’t help but remark at how this whole situation had gone from awkward to terrible in only a matter of two minutes.

“Scootaloo!” an appalled southern voice called from the hallway, garnering Scootaloo’s attention. “Land’s sake, I take my eyes off you for a minute and the next I find you up here forcin’ yourself all over Pound again.”

“Well, if it isn’t Buzzkill Bloom,” Scootaloo called over her shoulder. “Or did you come up here to join us? There’s plenty of Pound for us to share,” she suggested with a cheesy grin.

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as she trotted up to the bed. “While that sounds like a mighty enticing offer—” she took a mouth full of Scootaloo’s tail. “—I’m afraid we’re both gonna have to decline.” She dragged the drunken pegasus from Pound’s bed, into the hallway.

“Awww… you never let me have any fun…” Scootaloo whined as she clawed weakly at the floor.

“Yeah, real sorry about that, sugarcube.” Apple Bloom propped Scootaloo up on a wall just outside of Pound’s room, the tipsy pegasus falling over almost immediately. “Tell you what though, how about you hang out here for minute, and when we get down stairs, we’ll find you somepony your own age to uh… keep you ‘company’ for the night. Sound good.”

“I want to use Babs’ ass like a pillow.”

“All righty, I’ll see what I can do, just let me talk to Pound right quick.”

“Yay, ass pillow!” Scootaloo cheered before falling over again.

Apple Bloom shook her head and trotted back into the room, an apologetic look painted on her features. “Sorry about her, Pound, get a few bottles of cider in that girl and she’s more slippery than a used cart dealer covered in snake oil.”

“No, no, it’s all right… it was… odd… but she didn’t bother me too much.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Apple Bloom chuckled. “I’m just gonna take Scootaloo back downstairs, you want me to bring you up anything?”

“No, thanks Apple Bloom, if anything I’ll be back down in an hour or two.”

The earth pony smiled at him. “You have a good night, Pound.”

“You too, Apple Bloom.”

“Come on Scootaloo, let’s go.”

Pound listened carefully as Apple Bloom’s hoof steps disappeared down the stairs. “It’s clear, you can come out,” he said to Pumpkin once he was sure that Apple Bloom was completely gone. Pumpkin did not come out of her cocoon of blankets. In fact, she didn’t so much as make an effort to budge under the covers.

“Pumpkin?” Pound asked, concerned.

Still no answer. He couldn’t understand why she was ignoring him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, sliding out of his bed.

Again, nothing.

“Sis, why aren’t you talking to me?” He reached out to Pumpkin only to stop his hoof as she peered out at him from beneath a fold in the sheets. He noticed that her eyes were glistening with tears. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?”

She softly mumbled something but he couldn’t quite make it out.

“Pumpkin?”

“…” she said again, only marginally louder this time.

“Pumpkin, I can’t hear—”

“I asked you if you liked it when she kissed you,” Pumpkin said tonelessly.

Even without seeing the unicorn herself, Pound could feel a tenseness radiating from underneath the blankets.

“Pumpkin, I—”

“Did you?” There was a very evident quake in her voice.

“Sis…”

“It’s not fair…” Pumpkin sobbed. “E-Everything was going so well and then… then she… she just…”

Pound silenced the crying unicorn by seizing her around the waist and pulling her close. Instinctively, Pumpkin glanced up and found her brother beaming down at her. “Hey, I might have liked it, but you’re definitely the better kisser.”

“Stupid little brother, trying to be all cool,” Pumpkin sniffled, drying her eyes.

“Hey, I am cool…”

“…maybe a little… not.”

“You’re such a brat.” Pound stroked his sister’s cheek.

“Is that any way to talk to your big sister, dweeb?” she cooed, nuzzling into his hoof.

“Bitch,” Pound whispered, leaning in.

“Twerp,” Pumpkin said softly, following his lead.

“Idiot,” they called each other in tandem, just before their lips met. Pound noticed that Pumpkin was more aggressive this time around, as though she had something to prove— no, it was more like she was trying to assert her claim over her younger brother. Placing both hooves on Pound’s chest, she shoved him down and threw the blanket aside. She climbed atop him, staring hungrily at her brother as though he were the last bite of an especially delicious sundae.

Much as he loved her assertiveness, there was still one lingering issue that he just couldn’t ignore again. “The door’s still open you know.”

Pumpkin grinned. Her horn briefly sparked to life, and the door to Pound’s room swung shut, followed by the click of the door locking. “Just in case we have any more unwanted visitors,” she said, resting her hips on his.

“Good thinking.” Pound ran his hooves down the unicorn’s smooth back, earning a shiver from her.

“I know.” Pumpkin replied leaned down and burrowed her muzzle into his neck greedily, kissing and nipping at his tender flesh. This time around, she aimlessly grinded him as she’d seen Scootaloo do during her brief interruption.

“Hey, it’s hard again,” Pumpkin said with a spry smile.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Want big sis to take care of it?” she asked cattily.

“Are you going to use your mouth again?” Pound asked hopefully.

“Nah, I’ve got something... better in mind.”

Pound rose an eyebrow at her choice in words.

Pumpkin chewed her lip as though she were contemplating the perfect string of words. “Pound… I want to be your first.”

The colt’s eyes went wide at the exciting and forbidden proposition. “Sis, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything...” Pumpkin rolled off her brother, onto her back. “... just come here.” She beckoned him expectantly with a wave of her hoof. Pound wasted no time in following his sister’s instruction to mount her missionary style; any hesitations pertaining to romance between the siblings had dissolved ages ago.

“Sis, I’m gonna... start now.”

Pumpkin smiled and nodded to let her brother know that she was ready. Pound swallowed nervously and guided his throbbing cock to his sister’s moist folds. Shivering with anticipation, he pressed the head in, eliciting an immediate reaction from Pumpkin.

“Ngh... it… it hurts…” she cried, digging her hooves into her brother’s back.

“Sis, I’m so sorry, I’ll—”

Pumpkin hugged her brother close and shook her head. “Keep going,” she muttered.

“But—”

“I want this.” She looked into his eyes and forced a smile. “So please, keep going.”

Pound nodded and pressed himself further, feeling his sister’s internal walls clenching down on him with a heat and pressure that far exceeded her mouth. He could hear her whine again, but he treated it as nothing more than an afterthought. He soon found his advances met with resistance, but even then he did not stop.

He pressed forth and felt Pumpkin tense up almost instantly. Had he not clenched his eyes to cope with the intense sensation flowing through his member, he’d have seen a tear fall from the unicorn’s eye. He pressed again and heard Pumpkin audibly gasp, her grip around his back only tightening; she was going to leave marks.

With one last thrust, Pound found his advances no longer hindered, his length easily sliding into Pumpkin, who was gasping for air in short breaths, barely even able to keep her eyes open. Pound soon found himself unable to go any further on account of how tight his sister had become. He took a moment to appreciate how his sister’s pussy constricted around him, the pulsing of her moist walls around his head and shaft driving him crazy. He wanted more to be sure, but he needed to give her a moment to cope first.

“So… this is what my first dick feels like, huh?” Pumpkin panted between labored breaths. “Celestia, you’re so fucking big, you know that?”

“Heh.” Pound chuckled at the compliment. “Hey, sis, I’m going to move now, all right?”

“Go slow.”

“Got it.” Pound drew his hips back slowly, wincing slightly as the head of his cock drew along Pumpkin’s slickened walls. Once he felt he’d drawn back far enough, he pushed back in, treating himself to the exquisite texture of his sister’s pussy. Pumpkin gave another sharp gasp as Pound pushed even deeper inside of her. The pain she’d felt from the initial penetration was still evident, but fading fast, gradually becoming more tolerable; enjoyable even.

Pound reared his hips back and pressed in a third time, noting that Pumpkin had grown considerably wetter, not to mention more loose. She moaned this time, a pleasing change from her earlier labored gasping. Her grip on his back had loosened up considerably, now a loving caress as opposed to a scar-inducing death grip.

Pound lingered now, having pushed himself in almost to the hilt. He looked down lovingly at his sister, whose face was now the portrait of bliss; not a hint of pain to be found in her expression. She was simply swimming in the euphoria of being filled, completed even. She was somehow lovelier than she had been moments ago, and it only urged him to move more. Pound gave another slow thrust, eliciting a purr from the unicorn, and kept at it, just grinding away in her. He buried his muzzle in her mane as he pumped his hips, her sweet scent having become as intoxicating as ambrosia, and that’s when she whispered into his ear, “Do it a little harder, dweeb.”

Pound was only to happy to oblige. He drew his cock out even further this time before slamming it back into her warm, waiting pussy. Pumpkin squealed with delight, inspiring Pound to pick up the pace. He pushed in harder and faster with each thrust, watching her expressions and listening intently to her moans. He’d forgotten about pleasing himself in favor of feeding the odd fascination he derived from her body language.

“Hey, my back hurts,” Pumpkin whined suddenly, snapping Pound from his trance and subsequently causing him to stop. “Get off for a minute,” she commanded. The colt—begrudgingly— did as he was told, the cool air of his room replacing the intense warmth of his sister on his colthood.

Pumpkin stood up, stretched her back and found herself looking into the face of a sorely disappointed Pound Cake.

“Are we finished already?” Pound asked, a tinge of disappointment creeping into his tone.

“I dunno, are we?” Pumpkin rose an eyebrow.

“Well, I was hoping I could finish.”

“Then no, we’re not done yet, dweeb.” She gave Pound a quick peck on the cheek. “The floor was killing my back. I just wanted to change positions. Besides... I’ve been watching your eyes all day.” She turned and trotted to the bed, resting her upper body on the mattress while keeping her hindhooves planted firmly to the floor, giving Pound a clear view of her rump. “I think I know what you like...” she claimed, swaying her tail from side to side in a playful manner.

“Yeah, you sure do…” Pound said hungrily, trotting up to his sister, on five legs no less. He stopped before her and took a moment to admire the rump he’d soon be mounting. It was a wonderful thing to behold: tight, well-rounded and shapely, the cream-yellow coloring almost making it seem as though it were glowing in the light of his room. He couldn’t help but think of an especially creamy spongecake as he took it in. And best of all, like icing on the cake, she was still wet from their earlier encounter, dripping one might be inclined to say.

“Are you just going to stand there gawking?” Pumpkin called behind herself, wiggling her plump little hindquarters impatiently.

Pound swallowed back his timidity and reared up over his sister, placing his hooves on her lower back. Slowly, he inched his cock forward while pulling Pumpkin’s hips back towards himself. Before he knew it, he was pressing through Pumpkin’s tight folds, eased in by her natural lubricants. As she had been loosened up considerably from their first encounter, he simply slid the bulk of his girth right in. He could feel the muscles in Pumpkin’s back go tense under his hooves as her pussy sucked him in.

“F-fuck,” she whined, almost losing her footing. “This way feels sooo much better.”

“I’ll say,” Pound grunted, walking his hindlegs up to get a better angle on her flank. Pound pulled back and gave a test thrust, and glided back inside Pumpkin, earning a moan from her. He thrusted again, remarking at how much easier and deeper his thrusting had become as his balls struck home for the first time in his short sexual career.

“Fuck me harder,” Pumpkin whinnied, throwing her hips back on her own as Pound threw himself forward into her. The two picked up a steady momentum, working with each other to fuck even harder and faster. Having figured out that his older sister’s backside could take the abuse, Pound maneuvered his hooves around Pumpkin’s thanklessly thick thighs and began thrusting for the wall.

At some point she grew used to the abuse, her moans growing less dynamic and more contented. He wanted— no, he needed that intensity back, but he had no idea how to get it. He wracked his mind for ways to make her whinny when he spotted it: her horn.

Figuring that he was tall enough, Pound leaned all of his weight against Pumpkin, forcing her to collapse flat on the bed while he rested all of his weight on top of her. From his new position, he could easily lean over to kiss her horn, and that is exactly what he did. The moment his mouth met her magical member, he felt Pumpkin’s back arch and her pussy constrict even tighter, like it was trying to eat his dick. Jackpot.

Pound continued to aggressively rut his sister while molesting her horn with his lips, soon throwing his tongue into the equation. Had he been able to see her face, he’d have relished at how helpless she looked against the pleasure flowing through her horn, but he’d settle for her intensified gasping and cursing in a pinch. To his surprise, her horn began to release blue sparks which only served to intrigue him further.

Between Pound’s cock steadily ramming into her and the fact that her horn felt like it was about to explode in a cloud of frozen lightning, Pumpkin wasn’t sure whether she would pass out from the sexual stimulus or the magical overload her brother was inflicting upon her, but one thing was for sure: she was loving every second of the experience. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and she felt her body beginning to surrender to her younger brother’s manic ravagement of her body. It was at this moment that she felt some wonderful pressure swelling up within herself, growing stronger and more tense with each stroke she received.

Pumpkin was no stranger to masturbation. She knew the first onsets of an orgasm when she felt them, but this one… this one felt substantially different than any she’d ever given herself. It was coming from far deeper within her than her hooves could have ever reached, and judging by the pressure, it was going to be intense.

“D-dweeb,” she sputtered. “Don’t—ah— don’t stop... I think I’m—I think I’m cumming!”

Pound smiled, but said nothing, instead opting to pursue the passionate suckling of her horn and bucking of his hips for the sake of fulfilling his sister’s wishes.

Pumpkin could feel her climax only four thrusts away. Oh fuck, this little dweeb—Then three—he’s about to—then two —about to make me—Then one —about to make me— then she was blasting off— “♥~Kyyyyah!~♥”. Her horn was the first to peak to climax, eyes rolling up into her head as sapphire sparks began to ejaculate from the tip. It felt like somepony was tickling her brain with an electric phoenix feather while a cool winter wind steadily pursued all that the feather touched.

She’d received no reprieve between sexual peaks as her body was already succumbing to the first throes of that much deeper climax. It hit her instantly, her back arching uncontrollably and pussy clamping down on Pound’s cock as a surge of electricity raced up her spine and detonated in her mind. For a moment, there was only a bliss and tranquility and then the world as she knew it came back to her slowly. Pumpkin lay on the bed, convulsing around her brother, unable to utter a single sound much less move of her own volition. Pound had ceased his rutting as well, unable to advance due to how tense Pumpkin had become, though he could feel her loosening up beneath him.

“Oh wow, you little fuckin’ dweeb…” She mumbled at last. “♥~That was amazing~♥.”

“Hey, sis?” Pound asked.

“Mmm?” Pumpkin hummed in acknowledgement.

“Can I finish up now?” His cock was twitching with anticipation.

“Hmmm… not inside…” she teased wiggling her hips left and right, eliciting small grunts from her brother.

“But—”

“Not. Inside,” she said sternly. She noted the disappointed look in her brother’s eyes. With a smirk, she reached back and stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry though, I’ll let you finish up. Just pull out and leave everything to your big sister.”

Pound did as he was told and pulled out of Pumpkin’s still slickened marehood, her juices trailing down her thighs as he freed himself, depriving his rod of that exquisite warmth he knew he’d soon come to crave.

“Now sit down,” she ordered him. Pound sat down on the bed with his legs splayed and his throbbing cock still pointing to true north. Pumpkin wasted no time moving between her brother’s thighs to cradle the length of the shaft that had been ravaging her only moments ago.

“We never finished this earlier, did we?” She taunted, poking his girth with her tongue.

“N-no.”

“You know… I didn’t get to sample much of that cake frosting this morning. If I do this for you, do you promise to give me some more of it?”

With the fate of his climax lying literally in his sister’s hooves, Pound had nothing to say except for exactly what she wanted to hear: “I swear to Celestia, I’ll give you so much of it.”

“Good dweeb.” Pumpkin rewarded him with kiss to his tip. “Yeah, I think we left off right about… here.”

“Oh, fuck, sis!”

It was pair of drained testicles and a belly full of ‘icing’ later that the twins stepped out of Pound’s room, their lives forever changed. Despite the slew of questions this whole incident had resolved and raised, one thing was evident: they could never resume their relationship as just brother and sister. Still, with small blushes on their faces and new skeletons in their respective closets, the two siblings-turned-lovers trotted into the hallway, prepared to face the world.

“Hey, Pound,” Pumpkin said.

“What’s up?”

“You know we can’t ever let anyone else know about this right?”

“Really? Damn, I was about to go downstairs and tell mom and dad that their son and daughter just totally hooked up,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s not what I meant, you dweeb.” Pumpkin jabbed Pound in the shoulder. “I meant that we have to act casual. We can’t make it seem like anything’s up, you know?”

Rubbing his shoulder he said, “Yeah, yeah, I got it, act casual.”

“Act like a dweeb in your case.”

“Little brat.”

“You know you like it.” Pumpkin planted a kiss on Pound’s cheek.

“It only makes you slightly more tolerable.”

“Whatever,” Pumpkin stuck her tongue out at her brother, taking care to playfully pop him in the nose with her tail as she trotted past him. “Well? Aren’t you coming?” she called behind herself.

“Beg your pardon, sis?”

“My room’s down the hall,” she said.

“Yeah… so?”

“Well…” Pumpkin pawed nervously at the floor. “Mom and dad are still downstairs, so I was kinda hoping you could… y’know... tuck me in for the night?”

Pound smirked and swiftly joined his sister’s side, making sure to wrap a wing around her. “Sure. Besides, it’s late. Good fillies should be in bed already.”

“You’re so fucking cheesy, Pound,” Pumpkin said, leaning her head against her brother’s neck as their hoofsteps disappeared down the hall.

A moment passed in the now empty hallway before the door to Pound’s room crept open, and an older pink mare stepped out. “Sheesh, those two are loud, they’re just like their parents… not as fun to watch though.” The mare giggled, as she pranced down the stairs to the party with yet another fun secret burning at the forefront of her mind.

The End.

Was that as good for you as it was for me? Or maybe you’d like another take on how our young stud’s evening was to unfold? Take your pick mon ami, but don’t take your time; life’s too short and it’s impolite to keep an antagonist waiting.

B. There’s Always Room For One More (Ménage à trois)

C. True Passion Lies At The Bottom of a Shot Glass

D. There’s nothing like the eccentricity of an older woman

Author's Note

Inspired by this intimate, timeless and mindfully selected ballad

Track B: Two's Company, Three's Ménage à trois (Silver Belle Edit)

Track B: Two's Company, Three's Ménage à trois (Silver Belle Edit)

Warning/ Disclaimer: The following chapter contains graphic depictions of copulation between three animated equines and is strung together by hentai logic. If you are liable to find this offensive the writer suggests that you either stop reading or select another outcome, however feel free to whine about how clop is ruining the site in the comments section. I’ll be here not caring.

Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too

Written By: Your Antagonist

Track B: Two’s Company, Three's Ménage à trois (Silver Belle Edit)

As he reached the top of the stairs, Pound cast a wary glance over his shoulder to make sure nopony was watching him. The earlier incident with Silver Spoon was still bothering him. He was almost certain that it was him she’d been staring at with those merciless purple eyes, but for the life of him, he simply couldn’t figure out why. They had no history with one another and he was fairly certain that he’d garnered her absolute contempt in the brief time they’d had to introduce themselves.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pushed through the door to his room, not even bothering to shut it as he threw himself upon his dearly missed bed. He melted into the sheets with a contented, stress-relieving moan. He was physically and mentally blown from the party service and all he wanted to do was sleep, yet for some reason he knew that even if he closed his eyes he just wouldn’t be able to drift off. Something was eating at his thoughts, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Well, he had an inkling.

With a sigh, he turned his head and stared at the far wall of his room which was coated with posters of old films, outdated athletes and musicians who hadn’t put out albums in ages. It took him a moment to find what he was looking for between an old album advertisement for Trot DMC and a Wonderbolts poster: an old promotion of Sweetie Belle’s from when she earned her first big break in the music industry. It was his favorite out of the bunch.

He cracked a weak smirk as he took in the curvature of his former foalsitter’s radiant, smiling face. Looking at it always brought back fond memories of days long past. He could recall that after she had tucked him safely under his covers and checked under the bed for foal-eating monsters, she would kiss him goodnight. His hoof absently brushed across the spot on his forehead where she would plant her lips, remembering the soft, velvet skin against his coat, even giving him goosebumps of pleasure as a foal.

And on the nights when he had trouble sleeping, Sweetie would proudly display the talent that made her future profession obvious by singing him a passionate lullaby. In fact, if he closed his eyes, he could just barely hear her voice. “Hey, Pound?” the voice of the Sweetie Belle called to the recesses of his mind. For a memory, the voice was strangely clear. “Pound?” the curiously non-distant voice asked again. Pound opened his eyes and glanced nervously around his room. The voice had been far too real to be a mere memory. He was ready to blow it off as nothing more than some unusually loud white noise from the party when it called to him again. “Hey, Pound, are you in there?”

“Sweetie Belle?” he asked, puzzled.

“Oh, good, so you are in there,” she said, sounding relieved. “Umm… can I come in? Silvy and I have something we’d like to ask of you… if it’s alright with you that is, we don’t want to bother you too much.”

“Uh…” Pound scratched his head in thought. “Sure, I guess, I’m not doing anything really important.”

“Are you sure?” Sweetie Belle asked. She sounded anxious for lack of better word.

Pound was about to open his mouth to say that he was, in fact, okay with the pair coming in, when the decidedly sterner voice of Silver Spoon said, “Just get in there so we can get this over with.”

“Hey, don’t push me!” Sweetie Belle whined as she slid into his room. She snorted at her lover before turning away with a huff. “Anyway, as I was saying, Silvy and I have something we’d like to ask you.”

“That you’d like to ask him,” Silver Spoon corrected in a bitter tone.

“Silvy.”

“I just don’t see why it has to be me.”

“Because you have more time since you work from home—”

“I have the ability to do most of my work from home,” Silver Spoon argued.

“—you don’t have to work in front of an audience or the Canterlot media—”

“Isn’t this the kind of thing that fans and tabloids go absolutely crazy for?”

“—and because you really love me and would do anything for me.”

“I’m starting to wonder…” Silver Spoon ceded sardonically.

“Thanks, Silvy.” Sweetie Belle rewarded the earth pony with a quick peck to the cheek, to which she earned a playful sneer from her lover.

“So...” Pound interrupted, garnering the attention of the lovers. “What did you two need from me again?”

Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon looked at eachother, and then back at Pound. “You ask him,” Silver Spoon said, taking a step back.

“Fine, fine,” Sweetie Belle said, rolling her eyes. Nervously, she chewed her lower lip and trotted up to the bed. “Look, Pound.” She sat down next to the colt. “I’m about to ask you something… really, really weird.”

Pound almost snorted a challenging chuckle at the unicorn’s claim. After growing up in a household where morning greetings from bath tub scuba divers was the norm, he seriously doubted there was anything Sweetie Belle could say to him that would legitimately surprise him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Silver Spoon trot up to one of his bookcases the look in her eyes critical as ever they scanned across rows upon rows of backlogged comic books and dusty novels before her eyes fell upon the only other piece of furniture—if it could so be called as such— in the modestly sized room.

“A beanbag chair? Really?” Silver Spoon snidely asked, pushing up her glasses as though to say, “What is he, twelve?”

“Silvy,” Sweetie Belle called as though to say, “Shut up and be civil.”

“Fine.” Silver Spoon huffed as she flopped onto the beanbag. “Gah, this thing’s so itchy, what’s it made out of? Diamond Dog fur and wool?”

“Silver Spoon,” Sweetie Belle said with a tone of finality in her voice, “It’s already hard enough for me to ask this without you complaining.”

“Hey, I should be allowed to complain: this affects me more than it’s going to affect you.”

To this Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes.

“Right, and what is going to affect her and how does it concern me?” asked Pound.

Sweetie Belle sighed and looked the colt directly in the eyes. “Pound, if Silvy and I were to ask you for a really, really big favor... do you think you could keep it a secret?”

A curious smirk pulled at the corners of Pound’s mouth. “Sure.”

“I’m serious, Pound. Nopony could ever know. Not your mother, not your father, not your sister, not even Pinkie Pie. If it ever left this room, it could ruin us, do you understand?”

The smirk melted off of Pound’s face as quickly as it had come. He couldn’t remember ever having seen Sweetie Belle so serious before. Still, he was curious about whatever had her so on edge that she couldn’t just come right out with it. “Yeah, absolutely. I swear that I won’t say a word, but what do you need?”

Sweetie Belle shuffled her hooves nervously as she deliberated whether or not she could trust his words. Finally decided, she answered him. “Silvy and I…. we… we want you to help us get pregnant.”

“Help me get pregnant is more like it,” Silver Spoon muttered under her breath

Pound could feel the muscles in his jaw snap at the proposal and almost break away completely as Sweetie Belle placed her hooves on his. Picking his jaw up off the floor, he met the unicorn’s hopeful emerald eyes with a look that suggested she had thrown a monkey wrench into the gears of his mind.

“I know this is really sudden,” Sweetie Belle continued, “But I promise that we’ll do everything we can to make it worth your while if you say ‘yes.’”

Really thinking about it, Pound had no reason not to say ‘yes.’ He wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment and if anything he was just going to furiously masturbate before turning in for a few hours. As far as his his little hormone addled brain was concerned, he’d been offered a fast pass out of his virginity. Still, something wasn’t adding up. “Before I answer you, can I just ask one question?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, you could’ve asked any stallion to do this for you, and I doubt anyone would say no, so... why me?”

Sweetie Belle gave a relieved smile; this was going to go even more smoothly than she’d anticipated. “Pound, the reason we’re asking you is because—”

“Because it’s convenient,” Silver Spoon cut-in quite dryly.

“You don’t have to be so cut and dry about it,” Sweetie Belle protested.

“Well, that’s the truth isn’t it?” Silver Spoon asked, to which Sweetie Belle offered nary an argument. The pewter pony then turned her daggerlike eyes on Pound and proceeded to elaborate on her earlier statement. “As much as I hate to disappoint you, there’s really no special reason that we decided to ask you; you’re just more convenient and, according to Sweetie, discreet than the alternatives.”

“Discreet?”

“We both agreed that we didn’t want to resort to artificial insemination and while we considered hiring a stallion to render his, ahem, ‘professional services,’ there were too many potential risks to be considered. S.T.Ds, scandals and extortion just to name a few. But you on the other hoof...” She pushed her spectacles up and the light in the room reflected off the glass ominous glare. “...you wouldn’t say anything that could potentially ruin Sweetie Belle’s music career, would you?”

Like a blade forged of cruel rhetoric, Silver Spoon’s words cut Pound’s subconscious to the bone, drawing forth not blood but rather resentment towards the business mare. While he couldn’t see what Sweetie Belle saw in her, he could definitely see why she needed to employ a cheesy goon like Bold Front to conduct her business for her, and it wasn’t because of chauvinistic male capitalists. Her social skills simply sucked.

“Silver Spoon, that’s enough,” Sweetie Belle said sternly.

“Hmph.” The earth pony turned away with a snort, leaving Pound back in the care of Sweetie Belle’s benevolent hooves.

“Pound…” the unicorn said as soothingly as her slightly agitated tone would allow. The colt barely met her gaze.

“That’s the only reason why, huh?” he asked, a note of disappointment evident in his voice. “Convenience?”

“I’d like to tell you there’s a little more to it than that, but it’s just like Silvy said.” Sweetie Belle shook her head and sighed. “I know it seems cold, but you need to understand that we’ve been at eachother’s throats over how to go about this for the last four months, and this is just the perfect low-key opportunity that we’ve been waiting for. You… you don’t have to say ‘yes,’ but you don’t know how much it would mean to us if you did.”

“Can I take a minute to think this over?”

“Of course, take all the time you need.” Sweetie Belle slid off of the bed and made her way to Silver Spoon, where the couple would await Pound’s answer with bated breath.

Pound groaned and held his head in his hooves. He had no idea what he’d been expecting when Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon trotted through his door earlier, but it certainly wasn’t this. Still, despite knowing that he was merely a means to an ends for the pair, a request from Sweetie Belle wasn’t exactly the sort of thing he could just ignore. “Hey.”

“Have you made up your mind?” Silver Spoon asked.

“Yeah.”

“And...?”

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?” Sweetie Belle asked, eyes wide and starry.

Pound nodded.

Sweetie rushed forward to bury his face in her chest as she crushed him in a bear hug. “Thank you so much, Pound, you don’t know how happy this makes me.” The unicorn looked back to her grey companion. “Silver Spoon, isn’t this great?” She gushed to her lover.

“Oh, joy.” The earth pony jokingly replied in a monotone voice, garnering a pout from Sweetie Belle. Silver Spoon smiled at her lover’s expression, and Sweetie’s took a sunnier turn as a result. “So, now that we’ve got your consent, shall we get started?”

“Mmmhm,” Sweetie Belle nodded.

“Sure,” Pound agreed.

“Right.” Silver Spoon joined her lover and the future father of her child upon the crowded bed, where the three would sit in an awkward silence.

“So…” Sweetie Belle absentmindedly drew circles in the mattress with her hoof.

“Yeah…” Pound scratched the back of his head, “Getting started...”

Silver Spoon only cleared her throat uncomfortably.

It was at this moment that all three of the room’s inhabitants arrived at the same unanimous conclusion, realizing that not a one of them had any clue as to what the hell they were supposed to be doing.

“Hey,” Silver Spoon called to Pound. “Get this whole thing started up already.”

“Me?” Pound asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes, you’re a stallion, aren’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means that you’re supposed to know what to do, so hurry up and fuck me already.”

There they were. Those magical words that Pound feared he’d never hear even once in his high school career— if phrased a bit more crudely than he’d hoped. The colt often speculated about the day he’d lose his virginity, whom he’d lose it to, his state of mind, and so on. He always visualized himself confidently taking charge of the situation to make the first move on the missus he’d be entertaining, whispering smoother-than-silk one-liners into her ear before taking her down for a savage, passionate rutting.

And yet, here he was, faced with the real deal only to find that nothing was playing out like he’d imagined. The absurd smoothness he’d exuded in his fantasies was nowhere to be found, and for some reason, he suddenly felt very small and inept, afraid to even speak on the off chance that his voice would match the meekness he felt at the moment.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Silver Spoon asked impatiently. “Let’s go.”

“Uhhh... heh, o-okay...” Pound swallowed nervously. “No problem, just let me...”

“Tch. What's wrong with you?” Silver Spoon pressed, her tone growing notably more agitated with each word. “Are you going to do this or not? We don't have all night.”

“Yeah, sure, but I just, y'know, I need a moment.” Pound caught Silver Spoon’s glare burning a hole through his forehead and quickly averted his eyes to the floor. Fortunately for him, before Silver spoon could say anything to further intimidate him, Sweetie Belle jumped in to his rescue.

“Pound, is something wrong?” the unicorn asked sweetly.

Pound glanced nervously between Sweetie Belle's soft sympathetic features and the impatient, almost predatory look in Silver Spoon's eyes. He didn’t want to disappoint either of them, but he just couldn’t go on stalling for time either. With a sigh, he finally ceded to his nerves and came right out with it, “The thing is… I'm nervous, okay?”

Where Silver Spoon scoffed in disbelief, Sweetie Belle beamed a patient, understanding smile and placed a hoof on his thigh. “You're nervous?”

Feeling flustered by Sweetie Belle's approach, it was all Pound could do to hesitantly nod in response.

“Why are you nervous?”

“Well... the furthest I’ve actually ever gone with a girl was making out with some random filly at a party before Pumpkin jumped in and screwed everything up. She does that a lot for some reason… can’t even talk to girls...”

“So you’re a virgin?” Like a flung tomahawk, Silver Spoon's deadpanned assessment ripped through the air before cleaving what little of Pound's self-esteem remained, in two.

“Errr, yeah...” Pound admitted, lowering his head in shame.

Silver Spoon shook her head and sighed. “Great…”

“Silvy, be nice,” Sweetie Belle scolded.

“But he’s useless.”

“Be. Nice.”

“Hmph. Fine.”

“Thank you.” Sweetie Belle turned back to Pound, making sure to honey up her voice before she spoke. “So, it’s your first time, huh?”

Pound’s ears and shoulders slumped, providing Sweetie Belle with all the response she needed. Beaming with radiance enough to rival the sun, the unicorn gently rested her hoof under his chin and tilted his head up so that she could better meet his gaze with her brilliant green eyes. “Are you sure that you’re okay sharing your first time with myself and Silver Spoon?”

Blushing, Pound shyly and meekly answered. “Yes.” Even though Silver spoon absolutely terrified him, so long as it was Sweetie Belle asking, there was no way he’d be able to bring himself to say no.

Sweetie Belle giggled warmly at the colt before leaning in to plant a firm kiss on his cheek. “Okay then, just leave it all to us. We’ll take good care of you.”

Pound’s mind was absolutely swimming at the thought of letting the two visions of beauty in front of him having their way with him. “Leave it...all to you?”

“That’s right,” she said, guiding the colt’s head to her bosom, where she would mindfully stroke his mane and nuzzle him. “We’ll do whatever you want us too until you’re satisfied.”

“What...ever?” Pound barely managed to ask as he melted into Sweetie Belle’s coat, burrowing his nose into her intoxicatingly fine fur. He breathed in deep and was rewarded with a scent he hadn’t experienced since his childhood. Closing his eyes, Pound could see his former foalsitter rocking him to sleep, the smell of lilacs and Sweetie Belle’s gentle serenade carrying him to his slumber.

“Mmhmm,” she cooed into his ear with a voice like vocal honey. “Your wish is our command.”

It should go without saying that the sudden volunteering of joint services didn’t ring well with a certain third-party. Slightly annoyed, Silver Spoon sidled over to Sweetie Belle and hissed into her ear. “What do you mean we’ll do ‘whatever he wants?’”

“Well, we did said we’d make it worth his while if he gave us what we wanted, right?” Sweetie Belle reasoned.

“You said that. You.”

“Well, I was speaking for both of us,” Sweetie Belle insisted.

“Tch, you—”

“And besides, isn’t it easier to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar?” Sweetie Belle tilted her head to the colt who had become mere putty in her hooves.

Silver Spoon rolled her eyes “Okay, fine, fine, I get it. Can we just get this over with already?”

“That’s the spirit, love.”

“Hmph.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it so much, try to have a little fun with it.”

“Have a little fun with it she says…” Silver Spoon mumbled as she allowed her gaze to drift to the stallion— child, if she was being blunt about her feelings— who would be fathering her child when something between Pound’s thighs simultaneously caught her eye and dropped her jaw.

Sweetie Belle, made curious by her marefriend’s outburst, followed Silver Spoon’s gaze to see what the overreaction was all about. She didn’t have to look particularly long or hard to see what Silver spoon was making fuss was about. “Oh my…”

“Umm...” Pound glanced shyly between the shocked looks of the older mares. “I-is something wrong?”

“N-no, Pound, nothing’s wrong, we were just… surprised is all.”

“It’s bigger than our strap-on back home...” Silver Spoon said absently.

“I’ll say.” Sweetie Belle drew a hoof down her little colt’s soft belly. “I guess your body isn’t the only part of you that really grew up after all this time, huh?”

“Heh, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take gooood care of this, but first…” Sweetie Belle brushed her lips along Pound’s ear and whispered, “Tell us what you want, and be honest.”

If this was a dream, Pound prayed to Luna that he would never wake up. He nervously cleared his throat. “I want you to…”

“Yes?”

“I want you to… to use your mouth on it.”

“Oh, my, you said it so boldly too.” Sweetie Belle leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Mmm… okay, I’ll give you what you want, but this thing looks a little too big for me to take care on my own.” She trailed one of her silky, soft hooves down the sensitive underside of Pound’s erect cock. “Do you mind if I bring a friend along?” Sweetie Belle fluttered her eyelashes at Silver Spoon who returned the gesture with little more than a glare.

“S-Sure,” Pound stuttered, as Sweetie Belle brought her hooves up for another pass on his throbbing member.

“Thank you, Pound,” Sweetie Belle said as she loosened her grip on the colt, sliding out from behind him to join Silver Spoon’s side. “Now, why don’t you just lay down,” She gently pushed the colt onto his back and spread his legs, “And we’ll take care of the rest; sound good?”

Pound nodded his compliance.

“Good boy.” Sweetie Belle gave his thigh a solid pat before turning to her other half. “You ready to do this, Silver Spoon?”

The pewter mare’s face was slowly growing pink. “...I just want to get this over with already.”

“Awww, you’re blushing, that’s so cute.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Sweetie.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Stupid bitch,” Silver Spoon teased softly.

“But I’m your stupid bitch,” Sweetie Belle said innocently.

“You really are.” Silver Spoon leaned forth and locked lips with her sweetheart, the two pressing against each other aggressively, but with a passion.

As they parted from the kiss, Sweetie Belle drew a hoof along the curves of her love’s chin, taking a moment to appreciate the spark in those amethyst eyes. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”

“Fine, but you go first,” Silver Spoon insisted.

The unicorn turned her towards Pound with a mischievous look in her eyes. “With pleasure.”

Time seemed to drastically slow down for Pound, watching Sweetie Belle fulfill a fantasy he’d sworn was as likely to occur as the third coming of Nightmare Moon. As Sweetie Belle’s lips drew nearer and nearer, Pound clenched his eyes tight in anticipation. He could feel a knot of nervousness begin to tighten in his gut as her hot, moist breath blew around his sensitive nethers. She’s almost there, he thought, I can’t believe Sweetie Belle’s about to— “Ah!”

Contact.

As Sweetie Belle’s lips met the tip of his cock, Pound could feel himself tense up. He whimpered softly as his former foalsitter dwelled on the head, nibbling, licking and suckling on it, arousing sensations from his flesh that he could never attain with hooves alone. Sweetie Belle gave a small chuckle at her beneficiary’s immediate reaction and opened her mouth slightly wider to accommodate his girth even further. The colt’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head as Sweetie Belle’s warm, perfect tongue melted the underside of his cock, allowing her to glide down his shaft with ease.

As she began her ascent, it seemed as though Sweetie Belle was going to try and take a little more of him into her mouth, but much to Pound’s disappointment, she pulled clean off of him, robbing him of his stay in euphoria. He opened his eyes and saw that Sweetie Belle was frowning hardcore at an especially scarlet faced Silver Spoon.

“Silvy, aren’t you coming? I can’t do this alone you know.” The unicorn pouted at her partner.

Silver Spoon—whose face was now the absolute portrait of reluctance—swallowed hard and leaned forward. Pound could swear that he felt the heat radiating off her face grow more intense as she neared. Unlike Sweetie Belle however, Silver Spoon took a different approach to the issue, opting to stab the sensitive underside of Pound’s rod with her decidedly sharper tongue, dragging it skyward at a torturously slow pace. Pound could feel his thighs and ass clench up as the intense, sharp sensation pierced him like a blade’s tip.

“That’s it, Silver Spoon, go slowly.” Sweetie Belle encouraged, brushing a strand of hair out of the metallic mare’s eyes.

“Shut up.” Silver Spoon spat—literally and figuratively—before dragging her razor sharp tongue across Pound’s length for the second pass, earning a grunt from the colt.

“Just trying to help.”

“Then why don’t you get back down here and ‘help’?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Sweetie Belle briefly pecked Silver Spoon’s cheek, before joining her marefriend back on the shaft.

Pound could barely contain himself as the couple worked his dick in tandem, Silver Spoon cutting across his flesh like a saber while Sweetie Belle coiled her tongue around his circumference like a serpent. Pound glanced down at the pair so he could appreciate the fact that this was, in fact, happening and was met with the determined looks on the couple’s faces. It was like they were trying to outdo one another, each of the mares trying to see who could force Pound to make the most effeminate expression or heave the biggest gasp. He was ready to declare it a tie when Sweetie Belle snatched his cock away from Silver Spoon and wrapped her lips around it, much to Pound’s pleasure. She’d only managed to give the thing a proper welcome back kiss before Silver Spoon seized and pulled it out her lover’s mouth.

“Hey, don’t get greedy! This is a team effort, remember?” Silver Spoon scolded. A moment later she started to nibble on the shaft, using her teeth with just enough pressure to produce a more intense sensation but not enough to hurt the receiver.

“Oh? But, I thought you didn’t want any of this,” Sweetie Belle teased, prodding the tip of the cock with her hoof.

“Hmph, I just want to do my fair share is all. Can’t have you saying that you did all the work—” Silver Spoon interrupted herself to slide her lips down to Pound’s swollen testicles. “—when you hardly even work for a living.”

The comment struck Sweetie Belle right in the budding inferiority complex, causing her to involuntarily bite down on Pound. She scarcely noticed when the colt yelped in pain. “Oh, really now?”

“If the horseshoe fits,” SIlver Spoon said smugly as she helped herself to the now vacant head.

“Well, it’s not like I bring in most of the income or anything, not at all,” Sweetie Belle retaliated before slurping up her lover’s saliva trail.

“Yeah,” Silver Spoon snorted, “Exposing yourself to every manner of perverted degenerate in Canterlot by wearing those skimpy show costumes sure seems to pay the bills.”

“Hmm, that’s odd, you don’t seem to complain when I wear those ‘skimpy little costumes’ to bed.”

At first, Pound wasn’t sure if he should interrupt the warring lesbians, partially because woe be the man who should throw himself in front of that blade that is the female tongue, but mainly because they held everything that granted him the privilege of being called a stallion—literally— in their hooves. Then he noticed something odd.

“Overpaid exhibitionist,” hissed Silver Spoon.

Despite the vehement venom dripping from their words...

“Overworked ice queen,” Sweetie Belle growled.

... there was never a trace of animosity upon either of the mares’ faces. If anything, they appeared to be smiling as they crossed verbal blades with each other, and that’s when it hit him.

“Soft-hearted bubblehead,” Silver Spoon huffed, inching back towards the cock provided.

They didn’t fight because they were upset.

“Stone-hearted bitch,” retorted Sweetie Belle, seizing and pulling Silver Spoon’s ponytail towards herself with an aura of green magic.

They fought because the aggression turned them on.

In an instant, their lips enveloped Pound’s shaft. Their tongues met around his girth in a sloppy melee, soft lips desperately reaching and rubbing around him in an attempt to meet. They were working together now, sweet rage driving them to please the colt and each other as much as they possibly could. Pound nearly chipped a tooth from gritting his teeth, but it was all he could do to endure the dual-fronted assault.

Sweetie Belle watched Silver Spoon become more assertive in her fellation and smiled a dubious smile, pulling her lips off the shaft. “Well, you look like you’ve got this under control, so I think I’ll just help myself over here,” she said, though Silver Spoon regarded her lover’s words as little more than an afterthought as she took the now vacant cock into her mouth.

The occupied earth pony didn’t even notice that Sweetie Belle had swept behind her on the bed and barely registered Sweetie’s hooves seizing the sterling spoon cutie marks on her flanks. She did, however, take notice and whinny in surprise when her fiancé planted a french kiss on the only other pair of lips that weren’t presently being stuffed by a hot, throbbing meat rod. “Sw-Sweetie Belle!” she gasped as the unicorn teased her tongue through the flesh curtains of her marefriend’s already moist pussy.

“Hm?” Sweetie Belle hummed in response as she lapped up the metallic mare’s sweet love nectars.

Silver Spoon turned her head to scold Sweetie Belle. “Don’t just suddenly start doing th~aaat~♥,” she moaned as Sweetie Belle disregarded her warning and continued to probe the earth pony’s sensitive vaginal walls with her tongue.

Sweetie Belle pulled her tongue out, swallowing a mouthful of Silver Spoon’s juices as she went. “But we’ve got to get you nice and wet for your first real rutting,” Sweetie Belle insisted. “Besides, you don’t want to disappoint Pound, do you?”

“Well, I—”

“Didn’t think so.”

“H-Hey!”

Sweetie Belle didn’t waste anytime pulling Silver Spoon’s hips back towards herself, ravenously burying her muzzle into the earth pony’s marehood. Silver Spoon gave a very apparent jolt as Sweetie Belle caressed her folds, spreading natural lubricants and saliva wherever her tongue glided.

“Oh, fuck!” Silver Spoon whined, anxiously throwing her hips back against Sweetie Belle’s lips. “Right there, baby, right… fucking… there!”

Pound couldn’t help feeling a bit neglected as he watched the lesbians frolic. Still, the display before him more than made up for the fact that he’d been rendered as little more than an afterthought. He watched in amazement as the powerful, granite-like mare who’d marched into his room commanding both his fear and respect with her stature alone was broken down into a pathetic, whinnying mess before his very eyes. A glance at Sweetie Belle revealed an assertive glint in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she first entered the room. It was as though the pair had traded yin for yang in their descent into debauchery. An interesting contrast to their respective non-sexual alter egos, to be sure.

At some point, Sweetie Belle pulled her lips away, swiftly replacing them with a hoof. “How close are you, Silvy?” she asked, rubbing Silver Spoon’s clit in fast, focused circles.

“I’m close, I’m so fucking close…” Silver Spoon whimpered.

“Oh, you are, huh?”

Silver Spoon, now lost in the euphoria of her own body, could barely respond, “Oooh, keep going, just a little more, just like that...”

“You want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Silver Spoon moaned, rubbing her snatch against the unicorn’s hoof.

“You really want to cum that badly?”

“Mmmhmm…”

“Then I’ll let you cum,” Sweetie Belle’s lips curled up in a cruel smirk, “But not just yet.” She pulled her lubricant slickened hoof away and watched with sadistic delight as Silver Spoon’s hips shook and shuddered from the sudden denial of climax.

“Sweetie Belle…” Silver Spoon whined in mourning of the orgasm that would never be.

“Now, now, I told you I’d let you finish didn’t I? But I need you to do something before I do.”

“What?” Silver Spoon growled, irritated that she’d been declined released.

“Stand up and turn around.”

“Huh? Why?” For Silver Spoon’s inquisition, she was rewarded with not an answer, but rather a swift hoof to her backside that caused her to yelp out in surprise.

“♪Because, I said so♪,” Sweetie Belle hummed.

This was a side of Sweetie Belle Pound had never seen before. The unicorn as he’d known her had always been a gentle and passive soul who couldn’t harm a fly, but after that little display, he could easily envision her brandishing a riding crop in a studded latex corset and thigh-high boots. Note to self: save that mental picture for later, he thought.

Scowling begrudgingly, the earth pony did as she was told. Standing up, she spun around, giving Pound a perfect view of her backside. Well, almost perfect. Sweetie Belle didn’t miss a beat as she seized Silver Spoon’s tail and hoisted it up, exposing her lover’s precious lady parts to their young onlooker.

“This is embarrassing…” Silver Spoon groaned, pushing up her glasses.

“You like that?” Sweetie Belle asked, taking care to make Silver Spoon yelp with another solid slap to the hindquarters. “You like the way Silvy’s big ass jiggles when I smack it?” Sweetie Belle generously struck Silver Spoon’s reddening flanks for a third time, allowing Pound to see each hypnotic ripple that traveled across her pewter derriere.

Sweetie Belle drank in the mesmerized expression on Pound’s face and decided to push her pitch further. “Yeah, I bet you just want to stuff that fat thing into this tight, little pussy of hers, don’t you?” she asked, spreading Silver Spoon’s swollen mound, exposing the glistening bright pink flesh for its future occupant to marvel upon. “Wow, just look at how wet she is, she’s practically dripping. I think she’s ready for you, Pound. It would be bad manners keep her waiting. Are you ready?”

Pound’s mouth worked uselessly as he searched for the right string of words that would appropriately convey that his body was ready. They wouldn’t come, but Sweetie Belle had a good idea of what he couldn’t say.

“I think he’s ready,” Sweetie Belle giggled. “Come here, Silvy,” she said, pulling her beloved’s hips towards the main event of the evening.

“Go slow... go slow... go slow...” Silver Spoon urged.

“Don’t worry, Silvy, I’ve got you,” Sweetie Belle reassured as she stood Pound’s already Northbound cock straight up for smoother penetration.

Pound, still bewildered by the circumstances, had to once again remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming. This was it. His first sexual experience with a mare ever. It seemed so surreal, watching Silver Spoon’s drooling pussy draw nearer and nearer. He winced as her vaginal lips kissed the head of his swollen cock, her juices dripping and drizzling down his hot shaft. Even though he hadn’t pushed in yet, he could already feel Silver Spoon’s pussy trying to suck him in.

“All right, Silvy, here we go.” Sweetie Belle eased Silver Spoon down, the earth pony whimpering and panting as Pound’s hard meat entered her. “Nice and slow...”

Pound found himself doing his best not to chew through his tongue as Silver Spoon’s warm, slick walls crushed around the sensitive penile skin. Second by second, inch by agonizingly pleasurable inch, Pound watched the length of his cock disappear into Silver Spoon, enveloped by an indescribably pleasant heat and pressure.

“Fuck,” Silver Spoon cried, “It’s going so deep...”

“Just a little further, baby,” Sweetie Belle encouraged, stroking her marefriend’s metallic mane as she guided her. “Take it all, Silvy. Good girl, good girl.”

“Mmmm… he’s filling me up, I can’t fit any more…” Silver Spoon said.

“Yes you can, just bear with it. You’re almost there.”

“Oooh… fuck… fuck…”

“There you go, Silvy. There you go,” Sweetie Belle buried her muzzle into Silver Spoon’s neck and marveled at her marefriend’s impressive feat. “Wow, you took every inch of that fat thing…”

“I… I did?” Silver Spoon gasped in disbelief.

“That’s right.” The unicorn rubbed her other half’s belly fondly. “How is it, honey? How’s your first real cock feel?”

“Better than any toy,” Silver Spoon moaned. “The real thing’s so hot and thick. We might need to get one of these for home.”

Pound wasn’t sure whether or not to take offense to the fact that he’d been objectified as little more than a flesh-covered dildo, but with Silver Spoon’s quivering pussy teasing around him, he was more than willing to overlook the remark. Hell, had Sweetie Belle not spoken at that moment, he’d have offered his own services to the task.

“Hehe, maybe, but first things first: are you ready to start?” the unicorn asked.

“Yeah…” Silver Spoon replied breathily.

“All right, I’ll help you move.” Sweetie Belle swung her leg over Pound’s midsection, straddling his belly as she wrapped her forelegs around Silver Spoon’s waist.

“Do it, slow.” Silver Spoon turned her head and placed a hoof on Sweetie Belle’s cheek, urging the unicorn to move her face closer.

“Whatever you want baby.” The lovers shared a passionate kiss, Sweetie Belle taking care to slip her lady some tongue before lifting the earth pony up. Pound felt a surge of overpowering satisfaction as Silver Spoon ascended. While he couldn’t see it, he could certainly feel her release a stream of warm, creamy lubricant all over his length, the thick fluid tickling him as it drizzled down to his balls. It felt even better as Sweetie Belle guided Silver Spoon back down, immersing Pound back into the damp heat he’d come to love.

As a purr of ecstasy escaped Silver Spoon from another successful grind, Sweetie Belle sashayed her tail in delight, unaware that she was batting Pound across the snout and nostrils. The sweet aroma of her spa-cured tail was the first thing to hit him, sending him into a trance as he indulged himself on the scent of lilac shampoo. The fanning of her two-toned tail wafted another curious scent his way, this one a lewd combination of sweaty flesh and sweetness that did not offend so much as it aroused. He realized that he was being treated to the scent of Sweetie Belle’s arousal and it was more tantalizing than anything he’d ever been treated to in his parent’s kitchen.

Silver Spoon ascended and slammed her rump back down sending another jolt pleasure through Pound, but he bit his lip and bore with it, keeping his eyes glued to the marshmallow mare-parts before him. Despite the fact that he was fucking Silver Spoon—a happenstance for which he was eternally grateful—he couldn’t help but fantasize about what Sweetie Belle must have felt like in comparison. Another moan from Silver Spoon met his ears, shaking him back into the wonderful reality before him.

The spot on his chest where Sweetie Belle sat had grown warm and wet with her juices as she rubbed her aching pussy along him, unable to sate the lust and jealousy she felt from watching her marefriend pleasured in a way she could never emulate. To compensate, Sweetie Belle sought out Silver’s clit and began stroking it mercilessly, taking care to keep the earth pony’s hips pumping in a steady rhythm.

“No… not there…” Silver Spoon protested weakly, unable to fight back against the fierce stimulation now pouring into her from two fronts.

Sweetie Belle giggled and decided to up the ante, trailing her tongue along Silver Spoon’s ear, sending shivers down the pewter pony’s spine. Between Sweetie Belle’s careful caresses and Pound, who’d given in to his baser impulses and finally followed his urge to start bucking up into her, Silver Spoon was starting to lose herself in the act and her body wasn’t too far behind either. Amidst the ravaging of her body, she could feel something welling up with her. Something wonderful, that built and swelled like a torrential stream amidst the walls of a frail dam and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to hold it in before it came bursting out, but she couldn’t wait.

Out of the blue, Sweetie Belle bit down on Silver Spoon’s ear, causing her to cry out in a combination of pleasure and pain. As her flesh succumbed to rapture, she leaned back against the unicorn, melting into her soft coat while the impending release continued to grow with each frantic thrust Pound threw into her. She could feel him more coherently now, swelling up and growing hotter within her as she pulsed and squeezed around his girth. She found a strange satisfaction in the effeminate whines the colt made with each immersion, licking her lips as she imagined what pathetic, emasculating expressions she brought to his face with each grind.

Without realizing it she’d started fucking him on her own, Sweetie Belle having refocused her efforts towards stroking what Pound’s dick couldn’t and nibbling at Silver Spoon’s neck. It brought the earth pony great pleasure to hear him moan: “I’m close—oh Celestia—I’m so close.”

“Oh, are you?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Pound shakily answered back.

“Silvy... he’s getting close…” Sweetie Belle cooed, trailing a hoof up along the earth pony’s chest and neck.

“Me too, baby.”

“Hmmm… what should we do?”

“I don’t know.” Silver Spoon was scarcely paying the dialogue any mind, focusing all of her attention on the pressure in her pelvis trying desperately to force its way out.

“Should we let him take over? Let him mount you so he can fuck that pretty pussy of yours from behind? So he can rut you senseless until he pours all of his cum right into your thirsty little womb? Huh?”

“Ngh… n-no…” With Sweetie Belle whispering such dirty words into her ear, Silver Spoon couldn’t help clamping down on Pound like a vice.

“Mmm… I think you want it like that.” Sweetie Belle took to tracing along Silver Spoon’s lips as she spoke. “I think you want to be taken from behind like dog, broken until the only thing that’ll ever be good enough for you is this dick. Isn’t that right?”

“Th-That’s… not…true...” Silver Spoon could feel herself being taken over the edge, everything in her world becoming little more than a blur of color and sensation.

Another thrust.

Her vision went blank. She shuddered violently as a jolt of electricity raced up her spine, causing her neck and back to arch uncontrollably. That wonderful sensation that she’d been aching for somehow seemed so much closer, so much more feasible. It was just begging to be released, but alas, the flesh of an inexperienced male is a fragile and finite thing, not good for much more than a few minutes worth of use, and certainly not enough to properly satisfy an older, more worldly missus.

Silver Spoon could feel a very apparent twinge of disappointment as her flesh dildo cried out: “I’m… I’m coming!”

“Don’t hold it back, Pound,” Sweetie Belle encouraged, much to Silver Spoon’s annoyance. “Just let it all out. Silvy’s gonna take it all, so don’t be shy.”

Let it out he did. Silver Spoon could feel the moment when Pound’s bloated dick erupted, twitching violently against her walls as it shot glob after glob of his unbearably hot semen into her, coating her insides with such volume that it would have been the equivalent of drowning a mouse with bavarian cream. Silver Spoon rolled her hips, pumping for every drop that her pussy could milk him for. She could feel it settling in her uterus, the excess drizzling down, growing cold on her vaginal walls and rigid source of origin.

“Good, let it all out,” Sweetie Belle encouraged, rubbing her lady’s undoubtedly full belly. “How’s it feel, Silvy?”

“I can feel it right here, it’s still warm too.”

“Isn’t it great? We finally…” Sweetie Belle took a moment to let the realization sink in. “We can finally have a foal of our own.”

“Heh, yeah…” Silver Spoon rubbed her shoulder uncertainly. “I just hope I’m ready for this, it’s a huge step after all.”

Sweetie Belle gently stroked Silver Spoon’s cheek. “You’ll be a great mother.”

Silver Spoon offered a skittish smile in return. “So will you.”

Silver Spoon shared a tender kiss with her future partner in parenthood before turning her attention to their generous donor. Regardless of the brief stint of intimacy she’d shared with the colt, she felt no warmer towards him than the moment they met, but she had to admit there was something about his stupidly blissful post-climax face that she found strangely endearing, adorable even. This was the face of the colt who was going to father her child. Much as she wanted to speculate on what the child would look like based off of his features and build, she couldn’t linger on him for much longer.

Silver Spoon eased herself off of Pound’s surprisingly still-hard cock, thinking to herself how toys would never come close to the pleasure. She hadn’t taken into account how much of Pound’s seed would come drooling out of her once she she was off completely, and was promptly shocked at the small torrent that spilled out.

“Looks like you’ve got a little—err, a lot on your thigh,” Sweetie Belle giggled.

Silver Spoon’s pink cheeks said everything for her.

“Want me to clean you up before we head back downstairs? It’s the least I can do since you’re going to be doing the hard work in ten months,” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Y-Yes, please,” Silver Spoon said, still a little embarrassed.

“Alrighty then.” Sweetie Belle hopped off of Pound and the bed, making her way to the floor. “Just sit on the edge of the bed and I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Silver Spoon obliged and crawled over to the edge, looking away as she spread her legs, not wanting to see anymore of the spent semen drip out. Still, it was a little unsettling when she could feel Sweetie Belle staring at her slit marvelling at the small stream that was pouring from it.

“Wow, there’s really a lot isn’t there? Good job, Pound, we’re sure to be pregnant with this.”

“Oh, just shut up and do it already, will you?”

“With pleasure, honey.” Sweetie Belle placed her hooves on Silver Spoon’s inner thighs and pushed her love’s legs apart so that she might better accommodate Silver Spoon. The unicorn wasted no time getting right into it, sucking and scooping out the remainder of Pound’s seed with her tongue. Silver Spoon sighed in contentment as Sweetie Belle got more into it, mindfully massaging every orifice she could reach.

Like a bear trap, Silver Spoon’s thighs clasped tight around Sweetie Belle’s neck and hooves, rendering the unicorn helpless and immobile.

“Silvy—ngh— what are you—ungh— doing?” Sweetie Belle asked as she tried to fight her way out of Silver Spoon’s thigh lock, to no avail.

“Helping someone here keep their promise, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about, I didn’t—”

Ignoring her lover, Silver Spoon turned her attention to Pound who was watching the scene in relative confusion, but more importantly watching at seventy five percent arousal. “Hey, you’re not satisfied yet, are you?” she asked.

Pound tapped his hooves together nervously. “Well, I…”

“You want a little more don’t you?”

Pound looked at Sweetie Belle, who was still struggling against Silver Spoon’s leg lock, then back at the smug-faced earth pony.

“It’s all right, be honest,” Silver Spoon encouraged. Pound nodded shyly, and was rewarded for his honesty by Silver Spoon gesturing to her marefriend’s hindquarters. “She’s all yours, Pound.”

“Silver Spoon, what do you think you’re doing?” Sweetie Belle hissed.

“I already told you, didn’t I? I’m helping you keep your promise.”

“What are you—”

“Didn’t you promise him that we’d make it ’worth his while’ until he’s satisfied? His wish is our command, right?” SIlver Spoon watched in delight as all the color drained out of Sweetie Belle’s already colorless face.

“But… that doesn’t… I mean—”

“Don’t think about it too much. Just consider this payback for volunteering me to push a foal through my vagina.” Silver Spoon pulled Sweetie Belle’s chin up and kissed her, remarking to herself that whoever said revenge was sweet should have had their taste buds checked; the taste was more akin to anger and three minute old semen.

Sweetie Belle glowered up at her captor and growled, “I’m going to get you for this later, Silvy.”

“I love you too, honey.” Silver Spoon watched in amusement and anticipation as Pound shuffled up behind her marefriend and quite timidly placed his hooves on Sweetie Belle’s rump.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked.

“Pound, wait, we can—mmmph!” Pound would never hear what Sweetie Belle was about to propose as Silver Spoon shoved the mare’s face back down to where she needed it most.

Silver Spoon flashed an arsenic laced smile at the colt. “A promise is a promise, right?” She leaned forward and grabbed Sweetie Belle’s two-toned tail, exposing the unicorn’s marehood for the colt’s prying eyes. “Now get to it.”

Pound lingered for a moment, admiring the part’s of Sweetie Belle that he’d fantasized about for nights upon nights since he’d learn how to masturbate. It was as perfect as he’d always dreamed of it being; pristine, practically untouched. The glisten on her labia told that the unicorn was as wet as she’d been when she was straddling his belly.

Swallowing back any remaining timidity, he allowed instinct and desire to take over as he lined himself up behind Sweetie Belle’s pussy. On account that her mouth was ‘preoccupied’ for lack of a better term, he could barely hear her yelp as he pushed into the pussy of his dreams. Almost immediately the difference between the two mares became heir apparent. If he had to compare the two, he’d have to remark that Silver Spoon was noticeably looser than Sweetie Belle. It was almost as if the unicorn had never been penetrated before, and if Pound had been more savvy to which of the lesbians played the role of pitcher vs catcher, he’d have known that was precisely the case.

With Sweetie Belle’s face buried in Silver Spoon’s lap, he couldn’t see the pained expression on the unicorn’s face as he absentmindedly pushed through her hymen. She was certainly far more tense and rigid than Silver Spoon, but that only encouraged him to push in further. It was almost painful for him as he’d came mere moments ago and was decidedly more sensitive this time around, but he clenched his jaw and bore with it. He slid inch after inch into the unicorn’s well lubricated slit, stopping only once he’d felt as though he’d break her if he went any further.

This is it, he thought, It’s… it’s like a dream come true, I’m actually doing it with Sweetie Belle! Pound was living a moment that every red-blooded, star-struck stallion in Canterlot would have given both of their forelegs to even savor so much as four seconds of. For this brief period in time, as he laid claim to not only a mare of Silver Spoon’s caliber, but the hottest Equestrian idol since Sapphire Shores, he was the embodiment of the adolescent male dream. Had his legend not been sworn to secrecy, he would be hailed as a demi-god and issued a flagon of mead every time he stepped out of his bedroom door.

Silver Spoon smiled at the triumphant look on the colt’s face, wondering if that’s what he’d looked like while he’d been intimate with her. A whimper from between her legs, garnered her attention and immediate sympathy. “There, there… it’ll get better,” Silver Spoon whispered, stroking the whimpering Sweetie Belle’s mane.

Pound drew himself out slowly and pushed back once, then twice, testing the waters so to speak. For the colt, every second of this encounter was purely about sating a pent-up lust that had haunted him since puberty and he wasn’t about to waste a second of it laying idle. Having loosened up Sweetie Belle considerably, he pumped his hips with a serious fervor, sliding himself in deeper and withdrawing just as quickly. She gave another cry, but again it was muted by Silver Spoon. He slammed back in even harder now, grunting as her pussy tightened up around him as though it were trying to halt his advances, but it only made the struggle snuggle feel so much better.

He began to pump into her gradually now, mechanically even, his ears focused purely on the sound of his wanting flesh slapping against her welcoming, wide hips. He looked down and smiled as he saw her flank-fat jiggle and ripple with each press. This was wonderful, but the whole scenario was only made better when Silver Spoon allowed her to whine out in frustrated pleasure, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Her voice hit his ears like a serenade, though her voice cracked somewhere near the end of her little tirade, but it was all he needed to bring it harder. He wrapped his forelegs around her soft, almost squishy waist and allowed himself to go absolutely feral. He stuffed her virgin pussy with as much of himself as he could as often as he could, keeping his ears keen to the constant stream of swear words and moans that escaped her. Even as an unsettlingly familiar tingling sensation in his loins made itself apparent, he did not offer her any reprieve, only more dick.

Seeing as he was fucking on borrowed stamina from his initial climax, he was surprised to find that he was already at his limit, but he wasn’t done. He was determined to wreck these coveted hips until Sweetie Belle couldn’t walk straight, to own her fine, shapely ass, to make his cock the only thing she could not live without. As the heat and pressure built up in his loins, he was dead-set on absolutely drenching her insides with his load, and he would have too, had Silver Spoon not spoken at that moment.

“Wow, honey, he looks really focused…” she leaned down and whispered into Sweetie Belle’s ear: “...I think he’s going to cum soon.”

“Wh-What?!” Sweetie Belle gasped between thrusts.

“Oh yeah, I think he wants to fill you up, too. Greedy little thing isn’t he?”

“Si-Silvy?”

“Hmmm… I dunno…”

“I’m—hah— I’m gonna cum!” Pound grunted.

“Silver Spoon!” Sweetie Belle urged, now wiggling and struggling in an attempt to free herself from the possessed pegasus’ clutches. Little did she realize she was only adding to his excitement.

Silver Spoon couldn’t help the smirk spreading across her face. Watching Sweetie Belle’s flushed, distressed features as she pleaded for her lover’s assistance was a pleasant and very welcome change from the dominating personality she’d grown so accustomed to in their bedroom back home... not that she minded playing bottom for Sweetie Belle, the unicorn could really bring the thunder, though until now she never took what she doled out. Still, as a up and coming performer, Sweetie Belle’s figure and her image of being an unattainable tease were the lifelines of her career, and a pregnancy so early in her career would practically end her.

With a remorseful sigh, Silver Spoon loosened her thigh lock, allowing Sweetie Belle to turn around and push Pound off and out of her. She made it just in time to catch a stream of hot ejaculate to the chin, lips, and nose. Sweetie Belle opened her mouth to complain, but a second, unbelievably well aimed jet of semen found her debating whether or not to swallow a mouthful of salty discharge.

Silver Spoon glanced between her coughing, cum soaked fiancé and the absolutely spent Pound Cake, and began to laugh at the scene around her. Sweetie Belle scowled at Silver Spoon for making light of what could have been a catastrophic predicament. “Hey, what’s so funny?” she asked angrily.

“It’s—heh— it’s nothing, Sweetie,” Silver Spoon said. She swiftly moved to change the subject. “We should get you cleaned up. You still have a performance downstairs for Apple Bloom and Scootaloo later, and you know we can’t let your sister see you like this.”

“She’d never shut up,” Sweetie Belle sighed.

“Exactly.”

“Hey, Pound?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Huh?”The colt called dazily from the floor.

“Where’s the nearest bathroom?”

"It’s, uh…” he shook his head to gather his thoughts, as post ejaculate exhaustion began to set in, “It’s down the hall, by Pumpkin’s room.”

“Got it… and umm…” Sweetie Belle shyly approached him, her cheeks an adorable shade of pink on her white coat as she leaned down and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Thanks for helping us out.”

Considering how mere minutes ago he was rutting Sweetie Belle senseless, it was a bit silly that something as simple as kiss would render him a stuttering mess, but nonetheless that’s precisely what happened. “Y-Yeah, no problem. I’d be glad to help you anytime.”

“Careful, Pound, I might just hold you to that. I take my promises very seriously afterall.”

“I’d look forward to it if you did,” he said with a newfound boldness.

Sweetie Belle beamed at the colt, before turning for the door—hobbling slightly, which did nothing more than boost Pound’s ego. “Silvy, aren’t you coming?” she called behind herself.

“Yes, dear, just wait in the hallway, I’ll be along in a minute.”

“Hurry, I think this stuff is starting to dry!”

“All right, all right.” Silver Spoon turned her sharp eyes on Pound, who swallowed nervously

“Uh, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not especially,” Silver Spoon said, her voice having regained its trademark cold conciseness. “I was just wondering what our child’s going to look like based on your looks is all. Well, that and I also wanted to say… ‘thanks’, I suppose.”

“Like I said before, it’s no big deal,” he chuckled uncertainly, wondering if his cheek was going to freeze over.

“Silvy! It’s getting all crusty!” Sweetie Belle called from the hallway.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Silver Spoon turned to Pound and grinned. A curious change in her default expression of “I will murder you with my glare”. Without word or warning, she darted forward and pecked the colt on the cheek. “See you back downstairs, Pound,” the earth pony said, disappearing into the hallway.

Pound reached up and felt his cheek, half out of shock that Silver Spoon had expressed open affection towards him, and half out of fear that the spot she kissed was going to freeze over. Still, even odder than the kiss was the fact that, as far as he could recall, that was the first time this evening that Silver Spoon had called him by name.

With a sigh, Pound retired back to his bed, not especially caring how unpleasant the sheets were to lie upon what with the unsettling amount of bodily fluids that had dried upon them. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as exhaustion took over and was sound asleep within minutes, a tired but victorious smile painted across his features.

As the colt slumbered, he would be ignorant to the world around him, unaware of the third party who would also steal a kiss from his lips on this night. A jealous, ashamed little voyeur who’d observed the height of his evening from the keyhole on his door. Stepping carefully into his room so as not to make a sound, the observer gazed fondly upon the sleeping colt even going so far as to nuzzle into his sweat-soaked coat for the sake of savoring his post-coittal scent.

This was as close as the outsider would ever be able get to the object of her affections; unconciousness. He was so close and yet she would never be able to truly hold him and be held, though she could always watch him from a distance. With a resentful sigh, she leaned down and took his lips for the final time that evening and whispered, “Sweet dreams… you little dweeb.”

The End

Here’s to hopin’ you enjoyed this tale of debauchery and discovery, but perhaps that wasn’t enough to satisfy your inner erotic? If you’d like another take on how our young hero’s first sexual encounter was to unfold you need do no more than look below, we’ve got a fine selection of vintage erotica just waiting for your discerning eyes. Pick fast, but not too fast, we’ve got all night to enjoy ourselves, dear reader...

A.Twincest is wincest.

C. True Passion Lies At The Bottom of a Shot Glass

D. There’s nothing like the eccentricity of an older woman

Author's Note

This outcome was inspired by this most monumental of achievements in the history of film

Scenario C: Shot Glass Romancin' (Scootaloo's Private Party With Buzzed Lightweight and his pal "Woody")

Warning/ Disclaimer: The following chapter contains written depictions of sexual acts between two animated equines, one of whom is under age and the influence of alcoholic substances. Readers must be over the age of 21 with valid I.D. OR possess the capacity to read erotic literature without whining about offensive content.

Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too

Written By: Your Antagonist

C: Shot Glass Rum-Antics (Scootaloo’s Private Party With Buzzed Lightweight and his pal “Woody”)

With a long day of work and a flight of stairs finally behind him, Pound stumbled unceremoniously through the door to his room, pouncing upon his bed and ravaging his way between the sheets in the manner that a lion might pounce and ravage an especially weak gazelle. His bed always felt so much more welcoming after a day of baking and tolerating Pumpkin’s grievous shenanigans. Still, for all the comfort the mattress afforded him, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of loneliness that so often accompanies a bed of the empty variety.

Before melancholy could set in, he rolled over and found his attention grabbed by a particular framed portrait on the nightstand next his bed. Sitting up, he grabbed the picture and smiled at the immortalization of himself grinning ear to ear with a high-school aged Scootaloo, the pair seemingly not minding the fact that they were soaking wet, covered in leaves, cuts and ace bandages. An especially memorable flying lesson gone wrong that could have gone much worse had he not punched through an entire beaver dam with his curiously powerful hooves. As he remembered, it was from that day on that she started calling him ‘little lead hooves’.

Sighing, he placed the photograph back in its original place and flopped back onto the mattress, his eyes glued to the empty ceiling as memories of Scootaloo played on the surface like a film on canvas. Though his parents would often entice Sweetie Belle into foalsitting himself and Pumpkin when they were younger, he recalled that Scootaloo had had a longstanding impact on his life as well, what with her constantly involving Pound in a good many of her harebrained ‘pegasi only’ misadventures. Despite the countless failures her schemes often afforded the two, it only made the two grow closer together, Scootaloo becoming something of a sister to Pound—or at least more of one than Pumpkin on a good number of occasions.

For a moment, his thoughts defaulted to their reunion only a few hours ago, his cheeks flushing as he recalled just how liberal the older pegasus had been with her affections. She was never especially reserved to begin with, but time had only made her more worldly, more alluring and—

—More fuckable.

His cheeks pinkened as the thought slipped into his stream of consciousness faster than he could censor it. It was the truth to be sure, an inevitability if bluntness was in question. She’d certainly become more open about her advances, the way she’d fawned over him, touched him, the things she said and the way she said them…

He shivered.

Regardless of the fact that she was clearly yanking his chain, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it than simple teasing. Well, he could hope there was anyway.

He blinked.

In that instant, all he could see behind closed eyes was flash of orange and magenta. Well-toned muscles, high speed curves and challenging, unapproachable eyes, all etching themselves into his thoughts with a vividity. Before this evening, he hadn’t ever actually looked at Scootaloo in a romantic or sexual sense.

He sighed.

In all the years he’d known her before she left to join the Wonderbolts, her tomboyish demeanor had overshadowed any feminine qualities that her younger self may have possessed, if any. Even in the posters of her that hung on his far wall, be they professional or sensual in nature—his eyes darted to a photograph of the orange mare in a flight suit that was just a size too snug… especially around her hips— he’d only ever seen her as his role model, or so he’d convinced himself.

He turned over and groaned.

His thoughts had become a jumbled mess of hormones, emotion and confusion. If he closed his eyes, he could only see erratic flashes of orange and purple, violet bedroom eyes full of desire, and lips curling up into a teasing devilish smile. If he kept his eyes open, he would stare at the wall and be overcome by crippling shame and the realization that he was alone. So very alone and so very lonely.

Just as he was about to succumb to the hollowed sensation of loneliness, a sound from the hallway piqued his ears: hoofsteps on tile. Probably just Pumpkin going to her room or something, he thought, but something wasn’t quite right about the way that the sound was travelling. It was growing louder, drawing closer. Pumpkin’s room was down the hall, and so was the bathroom. The only things on this side of the hallway were more stairs, a closet and his own room.

Pound craned his neck towards his doorway on the chance that he might catch a glance at what was more than likely some lost guest searching for a bathroom or a family member in need of his presence downstairs. He could hear the steps more clearly now, and it became apparent that there was more than one person in the hallway.

The steps stopped just outside of his door. Curiosity at maximum, he contemplated getting up to find out first hoof who it was, but sounds of conversation aroused his inner eavesdropper.

“Hey,” he heard an incredibly soft voice whisper.

“What?” snapped the much blunter voice of an agitated mare.

“Keep your voice down!”

“What?” The blunt voice had practically become a serpent’s hiss.

“Maybe… maybe we should go back…”

“What?” Pound could hear the thump of a frustrated hoofstomp in the hallway. “This was your idea!”

“I know, I know, but—”

“But nothing!” From the dim shadows in the hall, Pound could see the owner of the meeker voice shrink away from the outburst.

“But I’ve got a bad feeling about this—”

“Too bad, you’re the one who talked me into this, so you’re going to get in there and—”

“Hey, hey, hey, what all this?” a third party interjected out of the blue.

Pound—and assumably the original pair in the hallway— rose an eyebrow at this new speaker. Definitely female, though their voice was somewhat raspy and they were slurring their words slightly. Despite the idiosyncrasies in the new party’s tone, Pound had a feeling that he knew exactly who the newcomer was.

“Scootaloo?” One of the hushed voices confirmed his theory.

“What is she doing here?” the shriller of the hushed voices squawked.

“How should I know? Wasn’t Apple Bloom supposed to be keeping an eye on her?”

“I dunno, but if we’re going to get what we came up here for, we’ll need to— wh-what the hay!?” exclaimed a voice that Pound recognized as Silver Spoon’s, though with a little more liveliness than he’d grown accustomed to hearing from her.

Pound was now genuinely curious as to what was going on in the hallway, but he didn’t get up to pursue it. There was a strange appeal to simply envisioning the events unfolding just outside his door.

“So, what brings two fine fillies like yourselves to a secluded place like this? The party’s downstairs,” Scootaloo pointed out.

“Th-That’s none of your business,” Silver Spoon replied indignantly. “Now get your hoof off of my—Nya~♥!”

If he hadn’t been invested before, that erotic moan certainly cemented Pound’s intrigue. He sat up as slowly and quietly as he could on his mattress, not wanting to spook the targets of his eavesdropping. This little debacle in the hallway was getting too good.

“He, he, he, I think I know…” Scootaloo snickered mischievously. Pound could almost imagine the cheshire-cat grin spreading across her lips. “You two just couldn’t wait until the party was over to start fucking like horny little school fillies, could you?”

“Ngh... that’s not why we—”

“Eeep! Sc-Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle half squeaked, half giggled.

“Well, if that’s the case: you two got room for one more?” Scootaloo continued sleazily.

“What?” Silver Spoon asked, not a trace of amusement to be found in her tone.

“Come on, Spoony: you, me, Sweetie Belle and my good friend vodka here in some random room of this house. What do you say? ♪~It could be fun~♪”

“Absolutely not! Sweetie Belle, tell her.”

“Well…” Sweetie Belle trailed off as though there she were wanting to say more.

“Well?”

“I was just saying that I wouldn’t be against it…”

“That’s the spirit! Open minds and open asses!” Scootaloo cackled.

“Sweetie Belle,” Silver Spoon sighed, “Normally I’d at least consider it, but in case you’ve forgotten, we came up here for a rather specific reason.”

“Oh, right,” said Sweetie Belle.

“And besides that, she’s—”

“You know,” Scootaloo interrupted, “I’ve always wondered what your uptight little flank would taste like, Silver Spoon.”

“What?” Silver Spoon asked.

“What do you say?” Scootaloo continued. “Sweetie eats that sweet pussy of yours out from below while I suck that stick out of your ass… or I could push it in deeper if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Kya~♥! Sc-Scootaloo, don’t touch me like that!” Sweetie Belle giggled.

There was a split second of shocked silence so tense that Pound could practically feel it from his room. He couldn’t possibly imagine how appalled Silver Spoon must have felt at this moment. In his mind, he saw bright crimson cheeks and teeth grit so hard that she could crack a diamond with dragon-like efficiency.

“That’s...That’s it!” Silver Spoon said with an indignance. “I’ve had enough of this! Sweetie Belle, we are going back downstairs.”

“But—” Sweetie Belle started to protest.

“Now.”

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that, Silver Spoon!” Scootaloo called after the assumably fuming mare. “I don’t have to join in, I could watch! I’m a really quiet masturbator, you won’t even know I’m there!” The only response Scootaloo would receive for her forwardness was the sound of Silver Spoon and Sweetie Belle’s hooves disappearing down the staircase, not so much as a hesitation in their pace to suggest that they even briefly considered her proposition. “Tch, fine. Whatever, walk away. Your loss, I’m a great watcher...” she mumbled before going still and quiet in the hallway.

Pound sat dumbfounded on his bed, unsure of what to make of what he’d heard. He had no idea how one was supposed to go about an instance of this sort, and thus he accepted silence as an appropriate course of action. Fate, however, had other plans for the colt, sending forth a messenger in the form of a modicum of dust mites that flew straight and true into his nostrils, recklessly tickling the sensitive nose hairs as they went. It didn’t take long for Pound’s autonomic response to seek reprieve from the irritation, resulting in a sneeze so loud and powerful that it would drastically alter the course of his destiny.

“Ga-aahh-chooo!”

“Huh? Who’s that?” he heard Scootaloo say. A second later he heard the shuffle of unsteady hoofsteps drawing closer before the familiar face of Scootaloo poked around the door. “Hmm…” She squinted at the colt on the bed as though she were having a hard time placing his face. “Oh.” Her lips curled up into a dopey, if scheming, grin. Where she’d failed with Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon in the hall, she was certain that she’d more than succeed with Pound. “Heya there, little lead hooves...” She said, slinking around the corner and into his room in the manner that a cat might approach a helpless, unaware bird.

“H-Hey, Scootaloo,” Pound nervously answered back, unsure of what to expect after her escapades in the hallway.

“So, this is where you’ve been this whole time, huh?” Scootaloo’s eyes wandered about Pound’s room, an approving smile spreading across her lips as she took in the messy décor that was stereotypical of a teenaged colt: small mountains of dirty laundry and empty junk food wrappers fought for dominance against hordes of crumpled up magazines, school books, and various articles of junk. Just like home. “Nice pad,” she said.

“Heh, thanks.” Pound sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

She stopped in front of an old band poster that caught her eye. “Deaf Leopard, huh?” she said, nodding approvingly. “You’ve got good taste in music.” The pegasus cocked an eyebrow as her eyes fell on a small section of the wall that was just covered in posters of herself as a fledgling Wonderbolt, each more flattering and immodest than the next. “And decorations apparently,” she said, her attention directed at a parody of a Cloppertone tanning lotion advertisement, in which she was sporting bikini bottoms that had been pulled half off her rump by a mischievous-looking puppy. Her own face in the picture held a look somewhere between embarrassment and excitement.

Meanwhile, Pound watched on in horror as his former mentor gazed at one of his main sources of clopping material, desperately trying to find some way out of his current predicament with a shred of dignity. “Uhhh… that’s umm… I can…”

“Damn, I forgot how sexy I looked in that spread.” Scootaloo leaned in to inspect her own posterior. “That cheeky bastard shooting this didn’t even tell me you can almost see my crotch.”

Pound couldn’t find the strength to pick his jaw up off of the floor. “Y-you don’t mind that I have one of those?”

The orange mare shook her head. “Nah, I’d bet half of Equestria has one of these somewhere in their house.” Scootaloo turned to her former pupil, a playful look on her face. “Besides, I look pretty hot there.” The pegasus turned back to the poster of herself, inspecting her own curves. “Yeah, I’d totally hit that.”

Pound blushed as he listened to the beautiful mare, until a sudden realization came to him. “Hey, Scootaloo, what are you doing up here anyway?”

“Ugh...” the pegasus snorted and shook her head in irritation. “I had to get away from Apple Bloom. I swear, she used to be my go-to party pony before I dropped out of college and joined the Wonderbolts, but now she’s just as bad as her sister with all that ‘drink responsibly’ and ‘this isn’t how a Wonderbolt is supposed to behave’ nonsense. Please, have you seen Colonel Sorren and Rainbow Dash cut loose at a bar?”

“Apple Bloom used to be a party pony? She sure doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, you should’ve seen her back in the university. That ole’ farm girl could drink a bunch of full grown frat-punks under the table like she was chugging water!” There was a spark in Scootaloo’s eyes as she spoke of days long since past, but it was extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. “But now...” Scootaloo snorted her irritation again before turning away with a huff.

“She just cares about you. You two have been best friends since I was in diapers; she just doesn’t want to see you do something you’ll regret,” Pound advised.

“I know, I know... but she can be pretty overbearing sometimes. It’s just nice to get away every once in a while,” Scootaloo asked and turned back to Pound, her features made somehow more radiant by the circumstance. The pegasus’ mouth was drawn back into a delicate pout—accentuating the fullness of her lips— and her eyes held a look somewhere between melancholy and defiance, captivating Pound with their beauty. “Y’know what I mean?”

Pound swallowed nervously, cursing his surging hormones all the while as he prepared to stammer his response. “Y-Yeah, totally”

“Besides,” Scootaloo unfurled her left wing and pulled out a long, almost shining object, “Do you realize how hard it was to grab this and slip away with her hovering over me the whole time?”

Curious, Pound turned his undivided attention to the object in Scootaloo’s hooves, his eyes growing wide as they passed over it. ‘Stalliongrad’s Finest’ the label read in regal, bold gold letters, though even more outstanding than the brand name was the picture of a scowling-faced, blank-flanked filly elbow dropping the light and life out of a rather large grizzly bear. Stamped neatly on the beaten bear’s ass, in big red letters was a 55.5% alcohol content warning and a disclaimer stating that the beverage was not for use by minors or anyone with a liver not composed of kevlar. Intimidating stuff.

“Pretty bad ass, right?” Scootaloo asked, nudging Pound in the ribs.

“Uh… sure, totally, heh, heh...” Pound rubbed his neck uncomfortably. In all honesty, he had no idea what to say. Seeing as how the only liquor he’d ever ingested was from a glass of spiked punch at a party which was swiftly poured out, his experience with alcohol was negligible at best. Needless to say, he wasn’t entirely sure he was fond of where this whole scenario was headed.

“Say, Pound...”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you again?”

“I’m... sixteen.” Pound answered uncertainly.

Scootaloo flashed an alligator’s grin at the colt, putting him on edge as she readied to proposition him. “So, you’re legally old enough to keep your mouth shut, right?”

Pound rose an eyebrow at the leering mare, uncomfortably clearing his throat before answering. “I… guess?”

Scootaloo’s grin only grew. “Want the first swig?” She offered, wagging the bottle before the colt in the manner that one might tease a dog with an especially desired bone or toy. “♪I won’t tell if you won’t~♪”

Pound suddenly found himself trying to swallow nervously at the proposal, though his throat was suddenly dryer than ash. “Oh, I uh… I shouldn’t, really I shouldn’t,” Pound attempted to decline politely, though little did the colt realize that Scootaloo simply wouldn’t hear any of it.

“What’s the matter, lead hooves?” She asked, again urging the bottle towards the minor. “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of…” Scootaloo’s words trailed off as she turned the label towards herself, frowning as she read the alcohol percentage of the beverage. “Geez, only fifty five percent alcohol content? This stuff’s practically tapwater.”

“Scootaloo, it’s not that I’m afraid of it, it’s just that... well, I don’t think—”

“Come on,” she urged, “just one little sip.”

“But I—”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” the mare asked, slapping the cork clean from the bottle, where it would land in some random location in the room.

There they were, those infamous last words, chock full of peer pressure and painful memories. He blinked and in all of an instant, he was eight years old again standing on a cloud with a younger, less alluring but just as abrasive incarnation of Scootaloo, albeit she wore a band-aid under her left eye not to conceal a cut but because she’d been convinced that it made her look tougher.

Among all of the ludicrous stunts he’d been put through in his stint as Scootaloo’s hellbound and witless disciple, he recalled this particular event with an unfaltering lack of fondness as he’d only learned to fly mere minutes before this particular excursion. Even now he could almost perfectly recall the sheer terror of being so painfully high up with nothing separating him from the ground aside from air and trust in the razor thin possibility that Scootaloo would catch him if he failed to go airborne at least halfway through the plummet.

As the exposition might suggest, Pound—after some persuasion bordering on the one-sided— shut his eyes and leaped from the safety of the cloud and into the most traumatizing experience of his life with only fear and the rush of wind to accompany him as he met the fast approaching ground below.

Just before impact, Pound forced himself to snap back to reality. He didn’t need to finish the memory. He knew what came next all too well: crying followed by continual coercion into progressively more insane stunts. He couldn’t figure out why, but ever since that moment, he’d never found it within himself to decline the older pegasus’ wishes—partially because she never took ‘no’ for an answer— but as far as he was concerned, that ended today.

“Scootaloo,” Pound said with a voice full of finality and resolve, the boldness in his tone immediately piquing Scootaloo’s interest, causing the older mare to raise an eyebrow. “Look, you’ve gotten me to agree to a lot of dumb things in the past, but this time, I’m not going to just lay down and let you walk all over me. I’m taking a stand and saying: blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah...”

As Pound began to lose himself in the throes of a tirade, Scootaloo found herself rolling her eyes in annoyance, her incredibly finite attention span having exhausted itself in the first word of the first sentence that didn’t directly pertain to her enjoyment of the evening. Apparently a hassle-free good time was too much to ask for.

A scolding from Apple Bloom or Silver Spoon she could understand, even anticipate, but Pound was the last pony she thought would retaliate with a lecture. Normally his timidity would have worn him down to an especially susceptible state, thus allowing peer pressure to handle the rest, but apparently he’d become capable of thinking for himself since she’d seen him last. Still, despite the fact that the colt had taken up verbal arms alongside Silver Spoon and Apple Bloom, there was one glaring difference between Pound and his female counterparts that would prove to be the gender specific achilles’ heel in his resolve, and Scootaloo knew exactly how to exploit it.

She chanced a glance at Pound, who was impressively enough still steadily trying to talk her ear off despite the fact he was obviously being tuned out. Smirking at the colt, she brought the open bottle in her hooves to her lips and drank deeply, taking care to store rather than swallow the mouthful of liquor. Placing the bottle on the floor, she turned her undivided attention to Pound and fluttered her eyelashes suggestively, an action so foreign to the mare’s demeanor as Pound knew it, that he soon found himself stuttering into a fluster.

“...and that’s why I can’t just sit by while you… while you… I mean I can’t…. can’t… uhm… why are you looking at me like that?”

Scootaloo said nothing, instead opting to tilt her head to the side, allowing her spunky magenta mane to spill over her narrowing eyes in a fashion so alluring, Pound couldn’t help trying to swallow the words that had suddenly gotten caught in his throat. Pleased with the colt’s dumbfounded reaction, Scootaloo rested a hoof on Pound’s thigh and began to lean forward, all the while giggling from the throat as she closed in.

Needless to say, the mare’s forwardness had caused Pound to grow hot under the collar, as it were. “Sc-Scootaloo, what are you doing?” he yammered, shrinking away, only to have Scootaloo plant her free hoof on his chest and shove him down on the bed. Without missing a beat, the older pegasus climbed atop her quarry, straddling his hips while keeping him pinned. Before Pound could offer any resistance, she maneuvered with a swiftness, firmly seizing his cheeks before going in for the kill.

It was all that Pound could do to watch Scootaloo’s descent as if time had slowed down, affording him the opportunity to take in every detail of the mare’s presence throughout the encounter. The weight of her sleek frame holding him down, her impatient, excited breathing rivaled only by the thrill-seeking gleam in her eyes, the moist, succulent sheen on her lips against the lighting of the room, her forelocks brushing across his forehead, the scent of her coat, her warmth against his flesh, her sheer radiance, everything about her just seemed to come together in that moment as her lips made contact with his.

A moment passed, affording Pound the opportunity to come to terms with and appreciate this sudden turn of events. Scootaloo’s lips felt magnificent and full against his own, a smug smile from her lips encouraging the colt to release his inhibitions and immerse himself further into the kiss, and immerse himself he did. Curiously, yet cautiously, Pound pressed back against the rash gesture, his enjoyment of the encounter increasing ten-fold.

Needless to say, this didn’t go unnoticed by Scootaloo who, pleased with her little ploy, decided to take it to the next level. She moved the hoof on Pound’s chest to his other cheek, thus granting her more control of the kiss. With a suddenness, she slipped her tongue into the equation, delighting in the surprised look on the colt’s face. Little did he realize that she was only getting started. Pound didn’t get a chance to indulge on the rich flavors of Scootaloo’s tongue brushing against his own as she’d taken the opportunity forged by oral intimacy to swap the mouthful of liquor she’d been storing up until now into her new boy toy’s eager and unwitting mouth.

“Mmmmph!” Pound cried as the harsh fluid emptied into his mouth, setting the back of his throat and taste buds aflame almost immediately as Scootaloo trickled it in. At first, the young colt didn’t quite realize what was being forced into his mouth along with his mentor’s tongue, but it became crystal clear that Scootaloo was pumping the liquor she was holding moments ago into him once the biting fluid began splashing across his own oral appendage.

The young pegasus had never experienced drinking such pure alcohol before, and every taste receptor in his mouth was rebelling against the sting of the powerful vodka coursing through it. Pound wanted desperately to buck and squirm against the unwanted stream of alcohol, but the sensation of Scootaloo’s tongue caressing his own was simply too amazing to resist. The next thing he knew, Scootaloo had changed tactics, sliding her hooves down to his throat, where she’d massage his tender neck muscles until he swallowed, wincing as his esophagus was set aflame by the cleansing sting of the liquor.

“There you go, lead hooves...” Scootaloo purred as she pulled her lips away from the coughing, flush faced colt. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” the older mare asked, licking her lips as though to savor the lingering taste of alcohol on her new plaything’s lips. Making sure to keep her hips firmly planted on Pound’s, she leaned over to secure the her bottle from the floor, bringing up and knocking it back with no hesitation.

Having been a first time drinker, a mouthful of 110-proof liquor seemed like a chore to swallow for Pound, but in stark contrast Scootaloo worked the bottle like a champ, easily draining the contents with all the efficiency of some sort of vampiric fish. Pound watched on in awe as ounce after ounce of vodka slid into the eager mare’s throat, the bottle going from mostly full to practically empty in a matter of mere seconds.

“Aah...” Scootaloo winced at the overpowering burn the beverage left on her tastebuds. “Damn, that’s pretty strong... kind of wish I’d brought something to chase it with…” she smiled sensually at Pound, tracing her tongue along the curvature of her lips as she slid her hooves down to Pound’s chest. “...but I guess you’ll do in a pinch.”

As Scootaloo brought her lips to Pound’s for a much welcomed second pass, the colt found himself grimacing at the residual flavor—or lack thereof— that came with the gesture. Much as he appreciated his mistress’ advances, the sting of vodka simply wasn’t ringing right with the baker’s pastry oriented palate. To Scootaloo’s disappointment, Pound turned away, breaking the kiss along with the atmosphere.

The older pegasus frowned and sighed; most colts Pound’s age would have been would have been absolutely ecstatic to share drinks with a hot, young mare like her. “Sheesh, what’s up with you, lead-hooves? Am I not sexy enough for you or something?” Scootaloo asked with a playful pout.

“No... no it’s not you, it’s just—”

“—Because in case you weren’t aware, that’s pretty impossible,” she interrupted, ‘as-a-matter-of-factly’ jabbing Pound in the chest as she spoke.

Don’t I know it, Pound thought. “Look, it’s got nothing to do with you, Scootaloo,” he said doing his best to avoid eye contact.

“Then what’s wrong?” she asked, nuzzling her chin into his chest as she patiently awaited an answer.

“Well, honestly I’m just not overly fond of the way alcohol tastes.”

Scootaloo sat up, chuckling, causing Pound to raise an eyebrow. “You think I drink this stuff because I like the way it tastes? Tell you what,” she said brandishing the mostly but not quite empty bottle before Pound. “There’s about a good… two maybe three sips left in this thing. Be a good colt and help me finish the rest of it, and I guarantee you that we’ll have more fun than when I was giving you flight lessons.”

“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the right word to use when talking about those flying lessons; why don’t you try ‘life-flashing-before-your-eyes terrifying’ and ‘borderline coma inducing’ instead?”

“Hey, terrifying as my lessons may or may not have been—”

“They were.”

“—they still made you the greatest, most bad-flank flier in grade school didn’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”

“That I’m totally right, totally know what I’m talking about, and totally trustworthy? Because I totally am, totally do, and totally… umm... am.”

“That makes me feel ‘totally’ reassured,” Pound said sarcastically.

“Come on, lead hooves, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I dunno, why don’t you ask nine-year-old me what he did with it last? I remember him holding it before you shoved him off cloud.”

“Just a teensy tiny bit? ♫~I’ll even help you out~♫”

“Scootaloo…” Pound sighed, a sure sign that all the prodding was undoubtedly wearing him down.

“I promise you, it’ll be worth your while, and if it isn’t, then I’ll make it worth your while... if you catch my drift.”

Pound stroked his chin as he contemplated the offer. “Well I…”

“Would I ever steer you wrong?”

“Yes.”

Scootaloo grinned and rolled her eyes at the almost reflexive response. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… tell you what, lead hooves: I’ll go first, but you’d better finish whatever’s left, got it?”

“No promises,” Pound mumbled as Scootaloo placed the remaining fourth of a bottle to her lips, knocking back a hearty amount of liquor before pulling the bottle away, sporting an expression caught between a grimace and a smile she just couldn’t help.

“Gah, that burns so good…” she gasped, wincing at the taste. With a somewhat relieved smile she presented the bottle to a timid faced Pound. “Your turn lead hooves.”

Using his wings to assist him, Pound managed to sit up some despite the minor—but welcomed— hindrance that Scootaloo’s weight presented him. He hadn’t realized it until he’d sat up, but the world had started moving on it’s own accord, and he felt somewhat light-headed as he went to meet Scootaloo’s gaze; that considerably generous mouthful of liquor she’d shared from earlier was starting to catch up with him.

With unsteady hooves, Pound took the bottle from Scootaloo and brought it to his eye level. He briefly thought of what would happen if any of his family members stormed into his room at this moment. Pumpkin would probably just freeze in the doorway before seeing herself out, his mother would probably break down and cry about where she’d gone wrong with him and how she was raising some immoral sex-fiend, and he had this strange feeling that his dad would simply smile, nod and leave him to his own devices.

He found himself snapped from his thoughts as Scootaloo sought to occupy her hooves by running them along his surprisingly firm midsection and waist, the wanton look on her flushed features conveying a lustful impatience. “Come on, lead hooves, it’s just a teensy, tiny bit. The sooner you drink it…” she bit her lower lip and took Pound’s free hoof with her own and brought it to her flank, encouraging the colt to caress and savor the sensation of her taut, athletic flesh; a reminder of the reward awaiting him at the bottom of the bottle. Needless to say, due to the circumstances, it didn’t take Pound very long to make a rash decision.

Well, here goes nothing, the colt thought, tilting his head back and the bottle up much to Scootaloo’s delight. An instant later, the liquor spilled forth, its trademark burn assaulting his tongue, gums and throat like an overpowering, flavorless flame. Swallowing the vodka on his own accord was a task in itself, but he quickly found that indulging in a hoofful of Scootaloo’s firm, fine backside helped the alcohol go down easier.

“Agh...” Pound grunted as he pulled the now empty bottle from his lips before casting it to the floor. “That stuff tastes terrible...” he groaned, shaking his ever lightening head.

“Well, again, you don’t really drink it for the taste, lead hooves.”

“What do you drink it for then?”

Scootaloo sighed and shook her head at the colt’s impatience. “You’ll see, just give it a minute to catch up with you. In the mean time...” She grabbed her beau’s other hoof and guided it to her other thigh. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off, hm?” she asked, gently stroking Pound’s cheek.

“That... sounds like a wonderful idea,” Pound replied.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like it,” Scootaloo growled, leaning in to seize Pound’s lips with her own. In contrast to their first two encounters, Scootaloo had become notably more assertive and forward with her advances, driving her tongue against his, gently nibbling at his lips as she began to grind her hips against his belly. The mare couldn’t help but giggle as her bottom finally found it within himself to fondle and squeeze her ass, allowing him to set the pace and placement of her grinding. From his position, the colt couldn’t fight the smile creeping upon his lips or the arousal manifesting between his legs.

“Hmm?” Scootaloo curiously hummed as her backside came into contact with something firm and warm. “What’s this, lead hooves?” Scootaloo asked wiggling her rump along his slowly stiffening member with a knowing grin.

“I think you know what it is,” Pound said, his reponse a little more cocky than he’d intended.

“Ooh, do I, now?” the older pegasus asked playfully, unaware that she’d begun to sway her tail back and forth, battering Pound’s thighs.

“I think you know what to do with it, too.” Had Pound been only slightly aware of his surroundings, he’d be absolutely stunned to hear the words coming from his mouth. Normally he’d never have the courage to say anything like this let alone as smoothly as he was saying it, but for some reason he just couldn’t find it within himself to stay his tongue. It was as though his ability to self-censor was slowly slipping away from him; the first onsets of a ‘buzz’, compliments of his alcohol ingestion.

Satisfied with his response, Scootaloo dismounted Pound, choosing to lay on her side next to the colt. “Well, I might know a thing or four…” she began, casually sliding a hoof down Pound’s chest and belly to his thighs, tactfully dancing around the colt’s cock. “I could show you… if you ask nicely.”

“Ask nicely, huh?” With his inhibitions fading but far from forgotten, Pound rested a hoof on Scootaloo’s hip, pulling her closer before leaning in for a kiss. He lingered on Scootaloo’s soft lips for a moment before pulling away, a breathy “Please?” escaping his lips. The colt felt a small sense of pride in his response as he awaited Scootaloo’s reply. Much to his disappointment, all he would receive for his efforts was a stifled snicker from his former mentor. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You have no idea how fucking lame that was…”

“Lame?” Pound frowned at Scootaloo’s bluntness. “Pssh, I thought it was cool.”

“...but, it was cute, so I’ll let it slide,” she said, allowing her hoof to glide across Pound’s now throbbing member, eliciting a twitch and a grunt from her beau. Pound sucked in air and winced at the sensation of Scootaloo’s hooves gliding along his sensitive flesh; it never felt this good when he did it himself. He attempted to lift his head up to better view Scootaloo jerking him off, but the mare was quick to coerce him into relaxing as she worked by nipping and kissing at the colt’s neck. She’d also managed to stay a restless leg by wrapping her thighs around it, keeping it in place while she rubbed her marehood along the musculature that had earned her plaything the title of ‘little lead hooves’, though judging from the girth she held in her hoof, it seemed as though she’d need to revise the ‘little’ portion of that nickname.

Despite the skillfully induced pleasure resonating through his cock, Pound could feel his leg growing warm and slick from Scootaloo’s arousal. Curious, Pound slid his hoof down to investigate, silently remarking to himself about how good her firm, well-toned legs felt to the touch as he descended. An instant later, he found his way between the mare’s hindlegs, feeling her shudder and shiver as he ventured closer to the source of the strangely enticing heat emanating from between her thighs. It didn’t take very long for him to run his hooves across her ever dampening marehood, eliciting a powerful, if sudden reaction from his partner as she clamped her knees tightly together, before loosening up.

A moment passed before Scootaloo purred approvingly, nuzzling into Pound’s neck, softly stroking the colt’s side with a wing; a tell-tale sign that the colt should and was very much encouraged to continue. Pound decided to let his curiosity guide him through this strange new development. He ran his hooves along every inch of Scootaloo’s pussy that he could, gauging her responses both physical and vocal. It wasn’t until he brushed across a small, almost negligible bump on her palette that he drew out the most intense reaction from her yet, garnering a squeal for his efforts.

Whatever he’d done with his last pass, had incited a drastic shift in Scootaloo’s behavior. Wrapping her free foreleg and wings around his arm, she’d begun to guide his movements, easing the colt’s touch deeper into herself, past her moist labia and into her absolutely soaking cunt. “Ooooh… you like the way that feels?” she asked. Her dominating, confident tone had grown somewhat shaky and submissive, but there was no denying that she was still setting the pace for this little encounter. Even as Pound drove his hoof deeper into her pussy, she still managed to work his cock like a pro, twisting, stroking and massaging the tender underside of his shaft, wringing out a delicious whimper from his lips every so often.

Amidst the throes of mutual masturbation the pair managed to find each other, Pound’s features a portrait of depraved, debauched curiosity while Scootaloo’s eyes seemed to simply scream for “more”. As if on cue, they leaned in towards one another, tongues making contact before even thinking to bring their lips into the ordeal; the two had become little more than marionnettes pulled along by strings of desire.

“Wow,” Scootaloo panted as she pulled off the colt, seeking reprieve and a more comfortable position; Pound’s hoof on the other hand, stayed exactly where it was. “You’re really getting into this, huh?”

“I will be once you jump back on top and spread those legs,” the colt said, once again surprising Scootaloo. By her count, he hadn’t ingested much more than a glass of vodka, yet personality-wise he’d transformed from his normally timid, uptight self into some smooth-talking stud. Alcohol was funny like that.

“I don’t know if that’s you or the vodka talking,” Scootaloo said, sitting up and throwing her leg back over Pound’s waist, “but let’s just see if you can put your money where your mouth is, hm?”

“What kind of baker would I be if I couldn’t cook up a good time?” Pound asked, cheese dripping off his every word. “Now then, why don’t you stop wasting time and help me get these sweetbreads in the oven. Afterall, it’s bad business to keep the customer waiting too long.” The young shifted his hips slightly, brushing his swelling erection against his voluptuous mentor’s ass. “And if you’re really good, maybe I can see about getting you some extra-special frosting.”

Scootaloo merely smirked down at the colt, finding his sudden burst of assertiveness nothing short of adorable. Still, he had a point. Planting a hoof on Pound’s chest for balance, she brought her hips up and gripped his cock with her free hoof, eagerly lining it up with her wet and waiting entrance. “You ready for this?”

Scootaloo didn’t wait for a response as she slowly began to lower her hips, her pussy kissing the tip of Pound’s penis before engulfing the length, effortlessly taking every inch of dick the colt had to offer. As this was the first time Pound had ever experienced the marvels of penetration, the crushing sensation of her pussy as it simultaneously expanded and contracted to accommodate his throbbing cock, rendered him unable to so much as utter a word. He savored every second of his former mentor’s descent, from the inviting heat pulsing around his cock, to her body’s natural lubricants as they streamed down his shaft.

“Mmmm…” Scootaloo moaned as she brought her descent to a halt. “It’s too thick… can’t take it all at once...” She whined, rubbing herself where they’d joined in coitus. She’d only managed to take him little more than halfway and would have to work the rest in gradually, but then again, that was half the fun. Moving her hooves to either side of Pound’s head, she used her newfound leverage to raise her hips slightly before driving herself even further down on his rod, his virgin whimpers encouraging her to keep going. Her second grind quickly became her third and fourth, each motion bringing new and exciting sensations to both parties as Scootaloo gradually fucked her way to the hilt of his cock, stopping only once she’d managed to fit every inch of Pound that she could.

She took a moment to appreciate the feeling of fullness and warmth his cock afforded her, giggling as it twitched helplessly against the euphoria of her vaginal walls. From her vantage point, Scootaloo watched with delight as Pound quivered and clenched his eyes from the pleasure coursing through his engorged member. She’d been around the block enough times to know a cherry when she popped one, and judging from the adorably pathetic expression on Pound’s face, it was safe to say that she’d plucked herself a ripe one; she just hoped he could take what she was about to dole out. Leaning forward, Scootaloo rolled her hips, her shapely taut ass crashing against Pound’s balls like waves breaking on the shore.

“How is it, huh?” Scootaloo threw herself back especially hard, earning an effeminate moan from her new boy toy. “How’s my pussy feel on your huge dick, huh?”

“F-fuck, it feels so good!” her underaged partner whined so sweetly.

Scootaloo licked her lips and went harder, that is to say hard enough to literally rock his bed a centimeter or so with each pass. It wasn’t often that she had the privilege of dominating a stallion who possessed Pound’s impressive size and girth, and she wanted to see how far she could take it before he decided to stop playing the submissive and take the reigns. Scootaloo had moved Pound’s bed approximately four inches from its original position before she’d find her power trip cut short as Pound somehow found it within himself to take the initiative and wrapped his forelegs around Scootaloo’s lower back, pulling his mistress down for a kiss and some reprieve from her seemingly boundless energy, slowing their encounter drastically.

However, before Scootaloo had enough time to feel disheartened at the loss of sexual momentum, Pound bucked his hips wildly, catching his lady completely off-guard. She hadn’t expected him to take over with such ferocity, and yet as she was recovering from the shock of the first plunge of his stiff member into her moist snatch, Pound was already drawing himself out and thrusting back in like some feral beast in heat. As Pound yet again slid into her dripping pussy, Scootaloo found herself cursing uncontrollably. It was nice to have been the one in control for a moment, but it seemed like Pound had finally gotten the gist of things, which meant Scootaloo could just lie back and enjoy the ravagement of her body.

Or rather she could have had Pound not flipped her face first from her roost to the mattress. Caught somewhere between annoyed and intrigued, she turned around and asked, “And just what the hay do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking the lead. That said…” Pound grabbed Scootaloo’s waist from behind and pulled her in close. From this spooning position, Pound used his thigh to spread Scootaloo’s legs before maneuvering himself into her open slit. He pressed in and felt Scootaloo tense up immediately. With a single pump of his hips, he quickly found that this new position allowed him to thrust even deeper than before.

“♥Mmmf~♥!” Scootaloo whined as Pound stuffed her insides with his rigid dick. Tightening his grip on her hips to keep her steady, he drew back and drove his pelvis forth, keeping Scootaloo in place as he single-mindedly assaulted her insides. Pound grit his teeth and went harder, putting his all and his balls behind every thrust that he threw as though he were trying to fuck through Scootaloo to his bedpost. Lost in the fog of his sex-crazed thoughts, Pound hadn’t noticed that he’d fucked Scootaloo onto her belly until he was hanging off her side trying to drive his cock home.

He scrambled on top of the prone mare and dropped his weight onto her back, keeping her pinned to the bed as he continued to hump the reason out of her. It was an empowering feeling to have taken control from a mare as strong willed as Scootaloo and put her in the world’s most universally submissive position. As he railed her, Pound noticed that all those lovely moans and cries he’d been fucking out of his lady had drastically lowered in volume; Scootaloo had bitten into a corner of a nearby pillow to cope with the constant barrage of dick being thrown into her.

Sensing the first onsets of climax, Scootaloo—panting and flushed in the face— whipped her head back and the pillow to the side as she stuck her ass out even further, giving Pound a much better angle to ram in from. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” She wiggled her hips back against Pound’s firm member, each stroke driving her closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Keep going— keep fucking going, I’m gonna cum, oh, Celestia I’m gonna—”

“Scootaloo, where are you!?”

The older pegasus buried her face into the pillow she’d been screaming into and groaned. “Ugh, Apple Bloom...” her mellow had been officially harshed.

Dammit, Pound thought.

“When I find your narrow, orange ass, you’re gonna get it!” Apple Bloom roared from the hallway. “Don’t make me drag you back downstairs!”

Scootaloo put her hooves over her head, trembling from being so close to release and being denied its pleasure. “When is she going to learn that I grew up, just like she did; I don’t need her to watch me like a hawk anymore!”

“She seems really upset about you sneaking away from her.” said Pound.

“Well…. I might have a history of reckless behavior at parties and social gatherings and she might have to keep me in check from time to time.”

“‘Might’, huh? I dunno, giving alcohol to a teenager before you fuck him seems pretty reckless to me...”

Scootaloo flashed the wisecracking colt a dirty look. “Did you know you’re much cuter when you’re quiet?”

“Well, what do you suggest we do about her then?”

“Guh…” Scootaloo rubbed her throbbing temples as the alcohol in her system crossed paths with the stress of the situation, the combination affecting her in a negative fashion. “I don’t really feel like arguing with her right now because she’ll probably bring up some story from the past, lecture me and win...”

“We could always ask her to join us...” Pound joked.

“Cute, but I think it’ll be better for both of us if I make myself scarce for the time being,” she said, seizing up the covers and pillows from Pound’s bed. Throwing an exceptionally thick comforter over herself and Pound’s waist, she pulled the remaining sheets and pillows around the blanket, making Pound’s bed appear as lumpy and unkempt as possible. The camouflage was seemingly flawless, save for the fact that everything in Pound’s bed from his waist-down appeared to be playing host to a rampant tumor.

“Scootaloo,” he said, “this is never going to work.”

“This is totally going to work, just be cool. Here,” from beneath the covers, Scootaloo tossed a magazine into Pound’s face, “act like you’re reading or something.”

Pound rolled his eyes as he took the magazine in his hooves. “She isn’t stupid you know, she’s going to notice the weird lump in the sheets—”

“Shut up, shut up, here she comes!” Scootaloo hissed as she pulled the covers tighter around herself.

Pound, ever doubtful that Scootaloo’s little ploy was going to work, opened up the magazine Scootaloo had given him and did his best to look as unassuming as possible as Apple Bloom’s hoofsteps and grumbling drew ever nearer to his room. “Land’s sake, you take your eyes off that girl for one second, one second and she slithers off like the snake she is…”

Pound glanced uncertainly at the lump of pillows, sheets and mare between his legs. There was just no way that Apple Bloom wasn’t going to realize that there was somepony hiding in that mare-sized mass, which meant that his evening with Scootaloo was going to be drawing to a swift and untimely end. Agh… it was pretty sweet while it lasted...

“Pound? Is that you?” Apple Bloom called, trotting into the colt’s room.

Pound gave the sheets one last nervous look before turning to answer. “Uh, yes, Apple Bloom, what’s up?”

“Hey, you didn’t happen to see Scootaloo pass by this way, did you?”

“Uh… um…” To his astonishment the college mare wasn’t paying hardly any attention to the odd lump. “Nope. Haven’t seen anypony else come this way.”

“You haven’t?”

Pound blinked in disbelief. How in the princesses’ names was this actually working? “Sorry, I haven’t. Why? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, see, I was just talking to Silver Spoon and according to her, Scoots was up here not too long ago trying to get frisky with her and Sweetie Belle.” The frustrated earth pony put a hoof to her forehead. “She’ll make some lewd jokes like that every now and again, but when she gets serious—and from what Silver said, she was rarin’ to go all out— she can get herself into some… ‘sticky’ situations.”

“Huh, you don’t say…” Pound resisted the urge to wholeheartedly agree with Apple Bloom. “Well, sorry, but like I said: I haven’t seen anyone pass by.” Pound returned his attention back to the magazine he’d been pretending to read. “I’ve been in here reading the whole… time...” his words began to trail off as his mind finally registered the material on the pages, revealing it to be anything but literary in nature. Had Pound regarded the magazine as anything more than a half baked alibi and an afterthought, he’d have noticed that in hooves he held a not a gazette of the literary fair, but rather a common porno-mag with the centerfold open for all to see: the pinup girl in question was of East Neighsian descent and bound by such wonderfully intricate ropework that it accentuated her curves and dripping nethers magnificently.

“‘Reading’, huh?” Apple Bloom teased.

“Well... it’s... got great articles and interviews?” Pound said, tossing the magazine to the side.

“Mmmhmm,” the yellow mare mused with a knowing smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be getting back to searching for Scootaloo?” he asked as casually as he could without making it seem as though he were trying to hurry Apple Bloom out of the room.

“I’ll get back to that in just a minute. Figured I’d just wait a here a minute and rest.”

“You’re going to rest here?” Pound asked, his heart sinking only slightly.

“Yeah, just for a spell...” Apple Bloom sighed as she sat down on an open space of the bed. “I’ve been standing, talking and drinking the whole time, and that music’s startin’ to give me a headache too.” She turned and smiled at Pound before continuing. “‘Sides that, when’s the last time you and I had a proper conversation?”

“Heh, yeah, I guess it has been a while, hasn’t it?” Pound said, his attention floating back to Scootaloo beneath the covers. Knowing firsthoof just how restless and impatient she could get, he was surprised that the Wonderbolt hadn’t so much as stirred the entire time she’d been under there; provided it hadn’t already, the boredom was bound to start killing her soon.

“So, how’s high school treatin’ you?” Apple Bloom asked, snapping Pound from his thoughts.

“School? It’s going good I guess. My grades are pretty good and uhh...” Pound found his attention drifting back to the Scootaloo sized lump in his sheets. Curiously enough, Scootaloo had begun to slither about beneath her hiding place; not enough to be noticed immediately, but movement could definitely be seen if someone was paying close attention. Pound briefly wondered what Scootaloo was thinking before quickly realizing that to keep Apple Bloom from drawing her focus to the wriggling mass below his waist, he would have to keep it squarely on himself. “... I’ve got a few new friends that I hang out with.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Good, good. Friends are always important, ‘specially around your age.” The farmpony nudged him gently. “Any of them a cute filly?” she punctuated with a wink.

Before Pound could voice his displeasure that they were, in fact, fairly unattractive colts, he finally learned what Scootaloo was planning when he felt her hooves slowly stroke up and down his waning erection, quickly bringing it back to its full glory.

“Nope!” he snappily responded to Apple Bloom, as he tried in vain to shuffle his hips away from Scootaloo who seized his thighs and held him firm. Pound did his best to hide his panic beneath a porcelain mask of forced composure, but a certain playful mare sought to shatter his disguise. Pound could feel the blood and heat rush to his face as Scootaloo enveloped the head of his cock with her lips and began melting the engorged member in her oh so wonderful mouth. She wasted no time working her tongue into the mix either, rolling it around his sensitive glans while her cheeks pulverized the shaft. Mind occupied by the overwhelming pleasure, Pound hadn’t noticed that he’d subconsciously muttered “Oh wow, that feels good…” aloud.

“Uh, Pound?” Apple Bloom asked, snapping Pound back into focus.

“Y-Yes?” the colt sputtered, trying his best not to cry out as the concealed Scootaloo soundlessly suckled and slobbered her way down his girth. Unfortunately for him, his flushed cheeks and almost pained expression were much harder to suppress than his voice.

“You all right, there, partner?”

“Mmmhmm,” he sharply sucked in through the very teeth he was lying through as Scootaloo took to spelling out her own name along the length of Pound’s penis.

‘S’.

“T-totally, why do you ass~ssk~?”

‘C’.

Apple Bloom rose an eyebrow at the colt’s odd behavior. “You’re actin’ mighty weird all of a sudden, something wrong?”

‘O’.

Fighting the urge to buck his hips against Scootaloo’s mesmerising tongue work, Pound forced something between a smile and grimace and said, “N-nope, everything’s g-good.”

‘O’

“You sure about that? You look mighty flushed in the face,” Apple Bloom said.

‘T’

“Well I...uh…”

‘A’

“D-Don’t know what you’re…”

‘’L’

“t-talking about—”

Pound yelped. He could feel the increased sensitivity brought on by first onsets of orgasm, and it seemed that Scootaloo had no intentions of letting up anytime soon. She was going to force him to cum right then and there in front of Apple Bloom, and the weird thing was as much as he wanted her to stop, he found himself wanting it almost as much as she did.

‘O...’

Wanting to blow his load deep into Scootaloo’s throat while Apple Bloom watched him.

‘O.’

Wanting her to figure out what was going on and rip the blankets away only to expose Scootaloo’s debased eyes as she guzzled down his warm jizz like it were the cure for some exotic affliction she’d been ill with.

‘O.’

In a haze, Pound turned his focus to Apple Bloom and found that she hadn’t taken her concerned gaze away from him. It occurred to him that she’d been speaking to him the whole time but he hadn’t heard a single word as he’d been too focused on his encroaching climax.

‘O.’

He was close. So close that he had to clench both his jaw and his ass to cope with the surge of sensation that ripped through his member with each pass of Scootaloo’s lips. He could feel his swollen member throbbing for release against the prison of her cheeks; a burning itch that only time under tension could scratch for him.

‘OOOOOOOOOOO.’

Pound came. At the peak of his and Scootaloo’s mutual depravity, he blasted the back of her throat with such relieving intensity that it robbed him of his sight for a moment. It took every ounce of stamina he had to sit absolutely still and keep eye contact with Apple Bloom as Scootaloo’s ravenous mouth milked him for every last drop of his seed, swallowing his massive loads as quickly as he could produce them.

Shuddering from relief and ecstasy, Pound regained awareness of his surroundings just long enough to catch the trail end of whatever Apple Bloom had been trying to say to him. “...ound? Pound? Land sake’s, you gone deaf or something?”

Shaking his head to clear the fogginess in his head, Pound quickly sputtered, “Sorry about that, Apple Bloom, I kinda spaced there for a second,” he scratched the back of his head nervously before continuing, “Been a really long day y’know? I’m kinda beat.”

Apple Bloom sighed and shook her head before returning to Pound with a sympathetic smile. “All right, I understand, ‘sides that, I think it’s about time that I get back to looking for Scootaloo. Who knows what kinda mischief she’s been getting herself into?”

Who knows, indeed? Pound thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Make sure you get some rest, okay?” Apple Bloom asked as she started towards the door.

The colt nodded affirmatively. “Will do.”

“Good night, Pound.”

“Night, Apple Bloom.” Pound waited until he heard the door close behind Apple Bloom before ripping the blankets away in frustration, revealing Scootaloo’s grinning form. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

“Hmm?” Scootaloo tilted her head as though she had no idea what Pound was talking about.

“She could have caught us!” Pound said all afluster.

“She could have... but she didn’t, did she? Besides that…” she flashed a catty grin, “you know you liked it,” she purred, crawling forth to nuzzle into her teenaged lover’s chest.

“I… uhh…ngh… th-that’s not the point.” Pound ceded with a pout. He found himself wrapping a wing around Scootaloo’s withers, drawing her closer.

“Wasn’t it though?” she teased, drawing circles into her plaything’s coat. For a moment the two lay unmoving and unspeaking, content to enjoy the warmth and comfort of the one another’s bodies. However, as Pound had been blessed with one of the shortest refractory periods known to ponykind, it was only a matter of minutes before he’d find himself sporting yet another achingly hard boner.

“Hey, Scootaloo?” Pound asked twiddling his hooves nervously.

“Hm?”

“So... uh, do you, y’know…”

“Wanna go again?” Scootaloo finished for her stuttering beau.

“Yeah, that, if you’re, you know, up for it or whatever.”

“Well… I guess we could go again, but…” Pound could feel Scootaloo chuckle as she sat up and reached under the bed, “...it’s gonna cost you,” she finished, brandishing a brand new bottle of brandy that she’d assumably swiped from the party. Faster than he could blink she slapped the cork from the bottle, sending it flying across the room where it landed next to the cork of the vodka bottle.

“You can’t be serious...” he groaned.

“Oh, but I can,” Scootaloo said as she swept his head into her lap, and began playfully stroking his now rather unkempt mane. “Besides, you’ve got to go bottom’s up if you want to get my bottom up. Now, open wide~♥” she cooed, tilting the foaming bottle toward’s Pound’s mouth.

With a sigh, Pound did as he was told, opening his mouth and leaning in towards the large bottle. He might not have cared for Scootaloo’s taste in drinks, but he couldn’t get enough of her taste in general. When his lips finally made contact, Pound readied himself for a steady stream of brandy, until his mentor grabbed the back of his head. “Let’s see you take a real drink this time,” she punctuated with a wink.

A very agitated voice suddenly sounded out from the hallway. “Scootaloo, I know you’re here! You’re not downstairs and Babs never saw you leave!” There was a sharp crack made from the irate earth pony kicking open a nearby door. “Stop foolin’ around and get out here!”

Right, Apple Bloom, should’ve know she wouldn’t give up so easily, the beige pegasus thought, sighing in disappointment that his night would be rapidly coming to a close.

“Man, she really doesn’t give up, does she?” Scootaloo mused aloud, a hint of admiration breaking through the cascade of irritation aimed at her best friend. “We’re never going to have any fun at this rate… say Pound, are you up for a flight around the block?” she asked with a massive grin.

Pound thought hard, but try as he might, he couldn’t imagine what Scootaloo was thinking. Having gone this far at her urging already, he figured why not take it a little further. “Sure, beats staying up here with my magazine to keep me company.” Hopping off of his bed, he trotted over to his window and unlatched it, unleashing a cool night breeze into his room. He turned back to Scootaloo, motioning her towards the open portal. “Ladies first.”

Scootaloo walked past him, swishing her tail playful over his muzzle as she went. “Try and keep up, lead hooves. If you’re fast enough, you might just get a private photo shoot.” Then she leaned in close and whispered, “And you’ll get to pick the poses,” adding a playful lick for incentive before bursting out of his room and into the starry night beyond.

As it turned out, Pound’s night was only just beginning.

Half a day and several hours later

It was the very unwelcome rays of the midmorning sun that greeted Pound’s eyelids, stirring him from his deathlike slumber. He sluggishly rose a hoof to block the blinding light, though his efforts seemed to be in vain as the sun managed to trickle into his sight regardless.
“Ugh… my head…” Pound groaned, sluggishly rubbing his throbbing temples as he sat up and opened his eyes, only to find that he had absolutely no idea where he was.

“Well, look who’s finally alive” the familiar voice of Scootaloo cheerily hummed.

“Sc… Scootaloo?” he asked, struggling to focus on the peppy mare darting about the bedroom.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Uhhnn… good morning...”

“Good afternoon,” Scootaloo corrected.

“Afternoon? How long was I out?”

“Hmm…” Scootaloo tapped her chin in thought, “Nine hours at least.”

“Damn, that long?” Pound took a moment to look around and take in his surroundings. To his surprise he was in a room so utterly cluttered with junk that it made his mess of a room seem barren. “Where am I?”

“My place,” the older pegasus answered offhoofedly, her attention set upon a small tray on a cluttered nightstand.

“Your… place?” It took a moment for the gravity of Scootaloo’s words to sink in. “In Cloudsdale?!”

“That’s the one,” she replied, popping the small tray onto her back..

“Oh, crap, I was supposed to help mom and dad clean up the shop today, I’ve gotta get going.” Pound started moving to slide out of the bed.

“Whoa, slow your role, there lead hooves,” Scootaloo said, as she pushed Pound back down on the bed. “Do you realize how wasted you got last night? Hungover as you are, you’re in no condition to fly.”

“But—”

“Besides, I already called your parents, told them that you spent the night at my place and that I’d have you back later.”

“And... they were okay with that?”

“Well, your mom wasn’t but your dad seemed to be all for the idea for some reason. Kept saying ‘I knew my son wasn’t some other stallion’s creampuff, I just knew it.’ What’s that all about?” She looked at Pound expectantly and saw him cringe at the statement.

“Please, just don’t ask…”

“Anyway, here, I made you breakfast. It’s nothing fancy, but...” Scootaloo used a wing to set the tray she’d been carrying on Pound’s lap. Several microwave pancakes and a mound of blackened hash browns that closely resembled a pack of timberwolves smoldering to death greeted him. Nothing fancy indeed.

“Thanks...” Pound cautiously poked at the lightest colored of the three pancakes, trying to decide whether Scootaloo’s culinary offering was even close to edible. Given that he’d barely eaten anything the day before, he was in no position to criticize the nourishment provided for him, but Tartarus be damned, the next time Scootaloo stepped hoof into a kitchen he was going to be right there unfucking years of Home Economics classes she’d taken and failed with Sweetie Belle as a partner.

“No problem, just make lunch later and we’ll call it even. Well, when you’re done eating I drew a bath for us. The bathroom’s down the hall and I keep some condoms in the nightstand right there. Bring however many you like… if you want to bring any at all that is,” she finished with a wink.

“Wait, what?” Pound sputtered.

“See you in a few, lead hooves,” she said, strutting towards the hallway door, her unruly violet tail swaying suggestively behind her with each step.

Pound turned his attention to the plate of dismally prepared food and then to a criminally overstuffed trashcan. He could wait until lunch to eat, right now he had other more pressing appetites of the flesh to attend to.

The End

Well, that was certainly what it was: a tale of treacherous taboos and thoroughly tapped tails, but was it enough to sate your thirsts? Well, regardless, it’s open bar tonight and Antagonist ain’t checkin’ IDs, so imbibe to your heart’s content my little patrons. It’s happy hour every hour:

A. Twincest is wincest.

B.There’s Always Room For One More (Ménage à trois)

D. There’s nothing like the eccentricity of an older woman

Author's Note

Inspired by this groundbreaking work of adult fiction as read by the esteemed Roy Kelly

Also, I apologize if this seems subpar compared to the other chapters, but it's uhh... it's been a while. Consider this a dusting off, I'll bring it hotter and heavier next time.

Main: Not Quite An Average Day In The Life (Pick Your Poison)

Warning/ Disclaimer: The following story contains multiple, fictional scenarios that depict graphic sexual acts between several cartoon horses. If this offends you, please leave your testicles at the door on your way out.

Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too.

Written By: Your Antagonist

Red Pen Heroes: TheWattsMan, Cpl Hooves, Benny,Skeeter The Lurker, & Martian

Not Quite An Average Day In The Life (Multiple Choice Ain't Never Been So Sexy)

It’s no secret that after a certain age, the natural curiosities inhabiting the minds of adolescent colts all over Equestria begin to expand past boyish trivialities, such as silly games and odd machinations to abuse bodily functions, instead finding renewed purchase on the prospective mystery of that most enticing of all creatures to frolic and flourish under the sun: mares. Once typically outspoken colts might find themselves suddenly embracing an approach of quieter persuasion when in the company of the opposite sex, while others choose to actively pursue the blossoming beauties, thus instilling themselves with vast reserves of self-confidence and an almost dog-like lust for even the most vanilla offerings of the opposite sex at such an early age.

Yet, this tale is not about the latter, drunk in their constant hounding after the affections of any girl who would so much as give the sleazy colts a second glance. No, this is the story of a specimen who fits the criteria of the former almost impeccably—painfully so— to a “T.”

The youngest child of the cake family, Pound Cake, could recall that in his youth he’d been an absolute menace, worthy of Discord’s praise, towards the opposite sex, without restraint or concern for how this would affect him in later years. He’d smash their sand castles, crush their dolls, even push them down and call them names, all for the sake of garnering the praise of his fellow colts on the playground.

At the time, their approval was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. Even his older sister—if only by seven minutes, according to the twins’ parents—wasn’t safe from the colt’s need, nay, his addiction, for peer approval. The colt had yet to realize it at the time, but the harassment of Pumpkin Cake had laid the foundation of a social hurdle so vast that he would continue to climb it even in his later high school years and through a semester or two of college. But those matters held little consequence to him right now; this moment was his and his alone.

Since the summer preceding the colt’s freshman foray into the social experiment gone wrong that is high school, Pound Cake could only watch helplessly as colt after colt who had cheered for his theatrics on the playground, who had dared to call themselves his comrades— some of them brothers—were ensnared by a vice so enchantingly wretched that even he himself was not safe from it: the hormone-emboldened grip of teenage romance. However, while his fellow colts confidently surfed the tumultuous oceans that are relationships, Pound Cake’s attempts to brave the same sea were rewarded only with anchors wrought from heartache, secured by chains cast from rejection. Yet, despite his lack of fortune on the high seas, the colt still managed to find reprieve on a private oasis of his mind’s design.

In this wonderfully secluded place, this fortress of solitude, he could accompany himself with any mare of his choosing without consequence or judgement. Truly this place was an eden beyond compare, and at present, the pegasus found himself nuzzled into the bosom of that sultry, high-class, high-maintenance siren among mares: Ms. Rarity. For every contented, throaty purr she breathed, he could feel her heart racing in time with his own. Hers out of anticipation, his own out of an anxiety driven by natural timidity. With each stroke of her soft, spa-pedicured hooves against his mane, he buried himself ever deeper into the perfume-scented ivory of her coat. Alas, his rapture here could only last for a moment longer; his mistress was growing impatient.

With one swift sweep of her hooves, Rarity seized her companion by the chin and tilted his head upwards so that her lustful, wanting eyes could lock with his own innocent pair. She giggled at the incredibly flustered expression on the colt’s face, but he couldn’t help it; he’d never been this close to a mare before. Taking the lead, Rarity drew him closer, pressing her naturally succulent lips against his, her silken forelocks tickling his forehead as she playfully slid her tongue into his mouth.

With trembling hooves, Pound Cake found the courage to grasp his mature lover behind her back and head, steadying his grip on her and pulling himself deeper into the kiss. Pleasantly surprised by her partner’s sudden display of assertiveness, Rarity leaned forward, using her weight and position to gently guide the young Cake onto his back. It was from this position that she would continue to thrill her inexperienced lover.

Much to Pound Cake’s chagrin, Rarity pulled away from the kiss, a thin strand of saliva trailing between their lips. The abrupt interruption had to have been some sort of fluke, thought young Pound Cake. A fluke that his hedonistic little mind sought to resolve quickly. The pegasus leaned forward, using his wings to assist him, only to find his efforts were in vain as a moderate pressure on his chest forced him back down. Confused, the colt looked down to see what had impeded his progress, and was immediately taken aback at the sight of Ms. Rarity’s hoof planted firmly on his chest, a mischievous grin painted across her china-doll features.

Before he could begin to question the sudden denial of his advances, Rarity descended upon his neck, gently kissing and nipping at his tender, ticklish flesh, eliciting low moans of satisfaction the further she traveled down his belly. The colt bit his lip nervously, sensing that Rarity was drawing nearer and nearer to her mark, and before he knew it, she was there. He shivered with excitement as her warm, moist breath blew across the sensitive flesh of his still-sheathed tip.

Mindfully cradling her young stud’s stallionhood in her hooves, Rarity immediately went to work on his shaft, planting soft kisses along the length, while her velvet tongue worked in diligent, focused circles to coerce her little Pound Cake’s cock from its hiding place. Rarity worked her fellatio with artistic proficiency, every brushlike stroke of her tongue garnering a satisfactory twitch from her colt-made-canvas. After what seemed like an eternity, Pound Cake had grown to what Rarity deemed a satisfactory size and the mare licked her lips hungrily in anticipation.

With a final passionate kiss to the tip, Rarity moved to Pound Cake’s belly, trailing her tongue up to the colt’s neck. His shivers were like candy to the sultry mare who was now moving back to attend to her lover’s lonely lips, mindfully stroking a hoof across Pound’s now achingly hard member. The colt could only cringe and wince at the sharp pleasure Rarity’s hooves afforded him.

“Mmm, Pound darling…” Rarity cooed, gently running her tongue along his ear.

“Y-yes, M-Ms. Rarity?” he gasped. He could feel the first swells of climax creeping out to greet him. It was just a matter of moments now.

“It’s time to wake up…” Rarity moaned, now lightly nipping at his ear.

“W-what was that, milady?” he panted. He was there, so close to that wondrous release, and all he needed was just one more hit of her lovely purr of a voice, just one more glance upon his mistress’s glamor, to send him reeling over the edge of ecstasy. And just as quickly as asked, he received.

“I said: it’s time to wake up, dweeb.” Something felt off as the voice washed over his ears, but with his climax only a mere hoofstroke away, he treated it as little more than afterthought. But then, just as the mortifying realization hit him, something horrible happened: he came. Hard.

Every second of Pound Cake’s orgasm was as intense and rewarding as the buildup had led him to believe. As the first and sharpest surge of white-hot ecstasy ripped through his cock, his vision began to blur before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The colt fought fruitlessly against the electric pleasure—his legs locking up while his spine arched uncontrollably—before he finally succumbed to a sense of overbearing relief, release and shame as glob after glob of ejaculate dripped forth from his tip, settling on his belly and bed sheets.

Though his long awaited—not to mention deeply satisfying—orgasm had finally passed, Pound Cake didn’t dare to open his eyes. He couldn’t open his eyes, not with what was waiting for him just outside his cocoon of blankets. He could already feel those cold, sapphire-blue eyes piercing through his covers, a stern, angelic face framed by a flaming orange mane just scrutinizing him as he lie there helpless and shuddering from fleeting pleasure; Pumpkin.

“Hey,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Mom and dad said they want you downstairs.”

“Oh, all right, I’ll uh, be up and out in a few minutes. So, you can just head downstairs and I’ll be joining you all shortly—”

“Nuh-uh, not gonna fly little bro.”

“Huh?”

“You need to get out of bed, now.”

“But, but I—”

“No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“Pumpkin, please, I—”

“With all the prep work we need to do for the Super Duper Special Pro… Proen… Proengud—”

“Super Spectacular Proengradumotiongagementation Party,” Pound Cake finished for his struggling sister. The mouthful of a name had been concocted by their aunt for the sole purpose of combining three life changing events for three life changing ponies in a way that would fit all on one banner, and oddly enough, it worked out.

“Whatever. My point is: today’s way too important for you to sleep through again like last time. So, you need to get up now.”

Pound Cake opened his mouth to issue another protest, but before he could utter a single sound the blanket was enveloped in a shimmering aura of sapphire. In his panicked state, he grasped futilely at the covers which were rapidly being whisked away. Seeing that it was a losing battle, Pound Cake did the only thing he could think to do to keep from being discovered and tucked his semi-erect cock under his thigh. Admittedly not a perfect concealment, but so long as Pumpkin wasn’t looking specifically at his nethers, he’d be in the clear.

“Oh, now I see…” Pumpkin said cattily as her eyes traveled down her brother’s exposed body.

“Pumpkin, this isn’t what it looks like, I was just—”

“Sneaking night time sweets again, hm?” She finished accusingly.

“N-no, whatever gave you that idea?”

As though to say “Really?” Pumpkin turned a flat gaze towards Pound Cake’s self-glazed belly. “You think I don’t know cake frosting when I see it?”

“Uh, th-that’s— I-I mean I—”

“You sneaky little twerp.” She emphasized every word with a light poke to Pound Cake’s nose, much to his annoyance. “What flavor is this anyway? This had better not be from today’s stock.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not from today’s stock…” Pound Cake mumbled.

“Oh really? We’ll just see about that.” Pumpkin’s hoof moved too quickly for her groggy twin to impede it, and before Pound Cake knew it, his sister had a good amount of his ‘frosting’ dripping along her hoof.

“Wait, Pumpkin, you shouldn’t—” Pound’s warning was a lost cause, as his sister—who was so prone to putting everything and anything she deemed potentially yummy in her mouth—sucked off every last drop of the load on her hoof. She didn’t earn her fork and garnish cutie mark by exercising culinary caution, after all.

“Huh, guess you were right, this isn’t from today’s,” she mused, smacking her lips at the taste in her mouth. “This frosting tastes a little…mmm… salty. Still warm too.” Needing a second opinion, Pumpkin dipped her hoof back into the glob on her brother’s belly and lapped the dollop up heartily. “It’s not half bad though, just a bit… weird.” It took her a moment to realize that Pound Cake was gawking at her, mouth open. “What’s that look for?”

The colt’s mouth worked uselessly as he tried to rationalize what had just transpired, but each time, he came up with the same recollection of events: his twin sister had mistaken his semen for cake frosting, eaten it and proceeded to go back for seconds. Yet, when he finally remembered how to speak, he just couldn’t be bothered to come clean. “N-nothing, sis. It’s just, um… I’ll, uh, be downstairs after a quick shower.”

Pumpkin cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her brother, but ultimately sighed and shrugged off her potential suspicions. “Just hurry up, Pound,” she said, turning and trotting out of the room.

Pound Cake waited and listened as his sister’s hoofsteps disappeared down the hall before he heaved a massive sigh of relief. He untucked his slowly-wilting dick from beneath his thigh, allowing it flop. As he shifted cautiously in his bed, his leg brushed across the now ice cold semen on his sheets, causing him to grimace. With any luck it would just absorb into the fabric without staining or crusting up, but that was an issue to be dealt with on laundry day.

WIth a sigh, Pound Cake proceeded to make his bed before cantering to the bathroom down the hall. The sound of running water and splashing was nowhere to be heard as he approached the door, so he thought nothing of it as he pushed his way in. Softly kicking the door shut behind him, Pound Cake was pleasantly surprised to find that a warm, bubbly bath had already been drawn for him.

Trotting to the tub, he briefly wondered who had drawn the bath for him in the first place. He had his doubts that it was Pumpkin, but then again his parents were real sticklers about wasting water, and, judging from the fact that it was just sitting here growing cooler by the second, all of it would’ve been wasted. Never look a gift horse in the mouth after all.

He was on the verge of dipping a hoof into the tub when something floating amidst the bubbles caught his attention. Curious, he leaned forward, squinting at the object in question, but still had a hard time believing what he was seeing. “Is that a snorkel?” he asked.

Not even a second later, the contents of the tub erupted like a geyser of soap bubbles. He scarcely even managed a yelp before a torrent of lukewarm bath water washed over him, knocking him to the tiled floor. Once the wave had passed, the now soaked-to-the-bone Pound Cake rubbed his head as he pulled himself to his haunches only to find himself gazing into the visor of a scuba mask. “What the f—”

“Gooood morning, cutie-cake!” gushed the very familiar voice of the scuba mask’s wearer.

“Auntie Pinkie?” he asked.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” she said, sliding the mask up to reveal her radiant features.

“Why were you just snorkeling in the tub?”

“Oh, you know, the usual: cleaning Gummy’s tooth, waiting for you to walk in, searching for treasure. I even found a chest full of these in the drain.” Pinkie Pie held up a dubloon the size of her hoof before carelessly tossing the coin back into the tub, an action that only served to further confuse Pound Cake. “Weird, huh?”

“How did those even— you were waiting for me?”

“Mmmhmm,” Pinkie Pie replied stepping out of the bathtub.

Soaking wet, her normally ecstatic mane now hung limp, yet ever lively as though it might just spring to life at at the slightest provocation. Pound Cake couldn’t help but notice that, for whatever reason, his aunt had opted to wear an exceptionally flattering one-piece swimsuit for her little aquatic adventure. Pound Cake’s face grew flush as he took in the older mare’s marvelously thick figure—compliments of years spent living in a bakery—, the sheen of the wet black spandex only serving to accentuate her plump rump and fine flanks.

He gave a dry swallow as his eyes tracked beads of water rolling from her voluptuous curves to her hooves, each droplet making him more and more aware of a thirst he hadn’t minded until this moment. A thirst that could only be quenched by a certain pink oasis in this desert of tile, porcelain, and tacky pastry-based wallpaper. Pound Cake could feel his breaths growing more shallow by the second; if the boy had palms, they’d be cascading a stream of nervous sweat. This wouldn’t have been the first time that Pound Cake had caught himself ogling his aunt, because why not? They weren’t related by blood after all.

In his distracted state, Pound Cake hadn’t noticed that Pinkie Pie had taken the liberty of closing the distance between themselves substantially, a term which here means that her curious crystal blue eyes were only mere inches away from his own. At this range, he could feel the damp warmth of her breath on his neck, almost indulge himself on the deliciously sweet scent of her coat and mane.

He’d become so fixated on his Aunt’s radiance that it completely caught him off guard when she asked, “Whatcha thinking about?”

“N-nothing.” Pound Cake took a step back nervously. “I was just wondering why you were waiting for me in the tub wearing… well, that snorkel for one.”

Pinkie Pie’s response came in the form of a heartfelt, vertebrae-crushing embrace. “Didn’t I ever tell you that I just can’t start my day without saying good morning to the cutest, most special colt in all of Equestria?”

At this particular moment in time, Pound Cake found himself in quite the predicament, what with his being smothered into the most uncannily bubblegum-scented fur in all the land. Much as he enjoyed the intimate embrace—not to mention blatant flattery—of a mare, the preexisting relationship between himself and Pinkie Pie had instigated an internal tug-of-war between his hormones and his moral standing on familial sexual attractions.

Pinkie Pie was just as much a part of the Cake family as Pumpkin or his mother Cup, but at the same time she was not a blood relative, which meant that somewhere down the line he was presently being snuggled by an attractive older mare in a tight spandex swimsuit… except that she was his aunt.

However the colt would have eventually settled on the morality of arousal in this situation, a certain part of his anatomy had already cast its ballot on the issue, and unlike Pound Cake, it had no qualms rising to the occasion to let the world know exactly where it stood on the matter. Needless to say, this development flustered the pegasus, who quickly jerked out of the embrace and crossed his front legs as though to shield the offending element from his aunt’s eyes.

Pinkie Pie tilted her head and frowned at the sudden break in contact. “Something wrong, Poundy-Poo?”

Pound Cake internally cringed at the pet name. “Sorry, it’s just that I should hurry and get washed up before dad blows a gasket and starts yelling at me for trying to get out of prep-work. You know how he is, right?” The colt shuffled his hind legs so as to sandwich his arousal between his thighs.

Pinkie Pie eyed her not-blood-nephew suspiciously before shrugging and sighing it off. “I should probably get going too, I told Rarity I’d meet her at ten to pick up decorations for the party, and she is the last pony you’d want to keep waiting, I mean there was this one time—”

As Pinkie Pie began to spin her yarn, Pound Cake found his attention once again drawn towards the speaking party’s full-figured hips before a tidal wave of lewd thoughts crashed down on him and dragged the distracted colt into an ocean of lechery. He thought of the softness of her fur and the warm doughiness of her flesh, nibbling his lower lip at the thought of nibbling her own. A twitch from his nethers reminded Pound Cake that fantasizing about a mare was a practice best applied when said mare wasn’t standing directly in front of him. But alas, like a moth in the night, he was fixated to a flame that had to be extinguished, regardless of his desire to burn to ashes in its blinding brilliance.

“—and it was a suitcase full of scarab beetles and flour. Can you believe that?” Pinkie Pie finished, unaware that she had been speaking to the equivalent of a brick with a dick. “And then there was this one time—”

“Look, Auntie,” Pound Cake interrupted. “I’m not trying to rush you, but didn’t you say that you had to meet Ms. Rarity at ten?”

“I sure did! Why?”

Pound Cake said nothing and instead pointed a hoof towards a nearby wall clock in the shape of a bundt-cake.

Pinkie Pie followed the gesture and her eyes grew wide with disbelief as she saw that the pastry shaped clock now read 9:57 AM. “Oh, my gosh, I’m going to be late, Rarity’s going to kill me! I’ll catch you later, cutie-cake!” In a blur of motion, she darted over to the tub and swan dove into its half-full depths with a less powerful splash than the first.

Concerned for the well being of his aunt, Pound Cake rushed over to the tub only to find—much his astonishment and understandable confusion—neither hide nor hair of the enigmatic mare. The tub was empty, save for a few patches of bubbles that had yet to dissolve and a green lump laying stoic amidst them. He reached down and gave the lump a poke only to have a small alligator scramble out of the tub and take refuge in the nearby toilet bowl.

With a sigh, Pound Cake pulled the plug on the remaining bathwater so he could fill it anew. As the piping hot water filled past the halfway point, Pound Cake forced himself into the tub, wincing at the scalding liquid. He'd have taken a moment to acclimate himself properly to the bath, but thanks to a certain mare who was apparently water-soluble, he was rather strapped for time.

Still, even as his flesh grew accustomed to the boiling water, Pound Cake just could not bring himself to relax. The encounter with Pinkie Pie was still running fresh in mind. He could still feel her pudgy warmth, almost taste her sweet-smelling breath, and that voice of hers like high-pitched honey… a deliciously guilty shiver raced up the colt’s spine, in spite of the water’s temperature. It was at this moment that he realized his erection from earlier had yet to subside, but it was just as well; he was going to be late anyways, where was the harm in making it worth his while? Pound Cake reached out towards his stone-stiff member and moaned as he parted with the first stroke, “Oh, Auntie, just like that…”

Twenty minutes and an odd combination of satisfaction and shame later, Pound Cake found himself standing outside the kitchen of Sugarcube Corner, hesitant to venture inside and for good reason. The only things awaiting him beyond those doors were a sternly-worded scolding from his father and an awkward prep-work session with the mare whom he’d fantasized about violating with a shampoo bottle and his tongue. However, what he didn’t realize was that he’d be dealing with the former far sooner than he thought.

“Good morning, son,” greeted the cheerful, nasally voice of his father, Carrot Cake.

“Pop! I’m so sorry for being so late, but there was this—”

As his son yammered off his apology, Carrot reached behind himself grabbed a cup of coffee he’d been balancing on his back. “You’re up a little early aren’t you?” he asked, calmly taking a sip of the beverage.

“—then she pulled out gold coins from the bathtub— did you just say ‘early’?”

Carrot nodded and took another sip of his coffee.

“But I thought that we had to start prepping for the party this afternoon.”

The square-jawed stallion frowned. “We’re not starting prep-work for another…” Carrot pulled a pocket watch out of his apron. “Half an hour. I thought I told your sister to let you know you could sleep in a bit longer.”

Pound Cake could feel his jaw clench from frustration, but quickly dropped the issue. He’d have held a grudge against Pumpkin for interrupting the greatest wet-dream he’d had since he hit puberty, but in a cringeworthy manner of speaking he’d gotten his revenge and even benefited from the interruption in the long run. Deciding to drop the issue on a salty note, he jokingly entertained the notion of thanking his sister with a half-dozen donuts, topped off with her new favorite “frosting.”

“Well,” his father started, snapping Pound Cake back to reality. “Since you’re here anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. You know, father to son. Come on, have a seat.” Carrot slid into a nearby booth, and started patiently sipping at his drink while his son settled in.

“So, what did you want to talk about, dad?”

Carrot took a long-drawn out sip from the cup, “Pound, how old are you now?”

“Sixteen, why?”

“Sixteen, huh? I remember when I was that age. Keeping late nights with the high school hoofball team, chasing girls. Heh, I might not look it now, but your old man was quite the filly killer back in the day.” Carrot gazed distantly into the still coffee, smiling faintly as though he were watching memories of days long since passed in the reflection. “Did you know, back before I met your mother, I was going steady with Mayor Mare?”

“Uh, cool?”

“Well, Ms. Mayor among others, I mean there was your old foalsitter, Sweetie Belle’s mother, Pearl, before Magnum set his sights on her—”

“Dad…”

“—and all those Apple family reunions. Let me tell you something, never a bad mare to spoil the bunch. True to their namesake too, each of them plumper, riper and juicier than a red gala—”

Pound Cake gave no response. He only buried his face in his hooves and prayed for the mental scarring to end.

“You remember your old biology teacher? The one with the face? Mrs. Forceps?”

“For the love of Celestia…”

“Totally nailed her.”

“Dad!”

“Hm?”

“What is your point?”

“Oh, right… sorry, about that, sport. Guess I got carried away.” Sighing, Carrot pushed away his coffee mug and looked Pound Cake in the eyes. “Look, son, all I’m saying is that a colt your age should be cutting loose, staying out late, going to parties and looking for a special somepony like your sister does.” Carrot shook his head at the thought and muttered, “Celestia knows I’d rather she didn’t…”

Pound would have remarked on his father’s ridiculously double-standard loaded remark, if he wasn’t so preoccupied trying to figure out if this was really happening, or if he’d hit his head on the tub upon reaching climax and was now hallucinating. He wasn’t.

“Anyway, do you see what I’m getting at, son?” asked Carrot .

Pound rubbed a hoof down his face in frustration. “Dad, could we please just change the subject or something?”

“I’m just saying it would be nice if you brought a nice filly in the house every now and again.”

“Are you serious…” Pound mumbled under his breath in disbelief. “Dad, look, I just… I really just don’t… care that much about fillies…” the colt admitted, his wings drooping to his sides in shame. He wasn’t quite ready to come out about his fascination with older mares to anypony, least of all his father, but what he failed to realize at the moment was how badly his lack of clarification would backbite him in a moment’s time.

“Ah… oh… so… you’re… heh, guess I should’ve seen that coming.” Carrot averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably before meeting his son’s eyes again. “Well, I’ll admit I wasn’t ready for that, but you’re my son, and I’ll love you regardless.”

Pound rose an eyebrow at his father’s choice of words. He was going to need more context to board his father’s train of thought, and by Starswirl’s beard he was going to get it.

Carrot heaved a breath full of disappointment and relief, his shoulders slumping as he accepted gravity of the conclusion he’d hastily arrived at. “Can you at least tell me that you’re the ‘injector’ and not the ‘creampuff’? If the reverse holds true, I won’t judge you, it’s just… well it would make me feel better if you were the one doing the ‘filling’.”

“What are you…” It only took a moment for Pound Cake to fully process the metaphor, his eyes going wide as he realized just what his father had been inferring about his sexual preference. “Agh! No! No! No! It’s not like that!”

“Now Pound, there is no need to be ashamed of who you are or who you like. As your father, I will love you unconditionally, no matter who you choose to call your very special somepony.”

“You’re taking my words out of context!”

“Hey, nopony else has to know, all right? I’ll keep it from your mother, your sister and your aunt Pinkie. This’ll just be our little secret, okay, champ?”

“That’s… agh! I’m done!” Pound Cake stormed out of the booth and into the kitchen, leaving his father alone with his coffee and the genuine impression that his son was a closet coltcuddler. In a show of frustration, Pound slammed the door shut behind himself, but to no avail; the door itself was of a swinging nature, the kind one might expect to find in an emergency room or a diner.

Despite the botched execution, the intention was apparent to the kitchen’s other and earlier inhabitant. “Something on your mind, honey?” asked a warm female voice that Pound recognized immediately.

“It’s nothing, mom,” Pound said, averting eye contact with the robust blue baker in the hopes that it might get her to drop the subject, but Cup Cake’s motherly intuition wasn’t a thing that was easily dissuaded.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.” She dropped the mixing whisk in her hoof to give Pound her undivided attention. “Now, what in Equestria could have put this gloomy storm cloud over my sweet little boy?” Pound Cake cringed at the baby-talk, but said nothing. “Is your sister causing trouble again?”

“No more than usual,” said Pound.

“Is it Pinkie Pie?” Cup pressed.

The plump mare’s words hit right on the mark, but Pound couldn’t let her know that. .“It’s… it’s nothing I want to talk about right now.”

Cup’s brow furrowed with concern. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it, sweetheart?”

“Mom,” the colt chuckled nervously, “I promise you, it’s nothing important.”

Cup’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned back to her mixing bowl with a sigh. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready, I suppose.”

“Sure I will,” Pound said reassuringly, turning his attention to the bowl his mother had been so intently mixing. “Say, mom?

“Yes, honey?”

“Prep-work isn’t for another twenty minutes, what are you making?”

“I’m just preparing an old favorite of the guests of honor: apple-cream filled malasadas. I figured that if I prepared them early, we could just fry them before the party service starts and that way it won’t get in the way of the catering menu. It’s a little more work, but it’s worth it for those girls.” Mrs. Cake smiled fondly as she mixed the batter in the bowl into a thicker solution.

“Apple Bloom has her degree in civil engineering, Scootaloo is in charge of her own Wonderbolts squadron, and little Sweetie Belle’s not only a famous singer but she’s engaged as well. It seems like just yesterday that your father was scolding them for destroying our brand-new electric taffy puller. Where does the time go?” she asked, pouring the contents of her bowl into another, larger bowl.

Pound smiled at his mother. Her sense of nostalgia was contagious, as he found himself recalling some especially fond memories of the former Cutie Mark Crusaders. Every manner of memory from bowel-voidingly terrifying flight lessons with the ever-dynamic Scootaloo to hoof-made birthday and Hearth’s Warming presents from a technically-minded Apple Bloom. Yet, despite the wealth of warm memories of Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, Pound’s smile began to falter as his thoughts turned to Sweetie Belle and her recent engagement. The emerald-eyed unicorn had been something of a first crush to a younger Pound Cake when she used to foalsit him in Pinkie Pie’s absence, and now she was getting married.

“So, who’s Sweetie Belle getting married to anyway?” he asked, doing his best to keep a sense of disappointment from creeping into his tone.

“Oh, some CEO for a big company in Canterlot. They’re actually paying for the whole party, plus some very generous gratuities, which I know your father’s very excited about.” Turning her focus back to her work, Cup swore under her breath, as the new mixture began to rapidly rise and expand beyond her control. “Pound, sweetheart, do you think you could punch this dough apart for your mother?”

“Sure thing.” Pound took the bowl from his mother and limbered up his hooves as prepared to let his special talent go to work. Despite his lineage and learned prowess in the kitchen, Pound Cake’s special talent had next to nothing to do with baking. His cutie-mark, which depicted a rock combusting under a hoof, told the story of colt who would have been better suited for work in demolition or stomping his way through a scrapyard, and yet curiously enough the offset skill managed to find its niche in the kitchen from time to time.

Pound rained a hail of carefully aimed punches and stomps upon the rampant dough, with the intention of breaking it apart and pressing it down. Each blow that drove the dough back caused it to become even denser than and harder to break, but it was just as well to Pound; harder substances were usually the most fun to smash as far as he was concerned. Once the dough had been beaten and split into several satisfactorily-sized chunks, Pound stepped back, pushing the bowl of split dough balls back to his mother.

“All yours, mom,” he said.

“Thanks so much, dear.” Cup rewarded her son with an affectionate neck nuzzle. “Now all that’s left is to shape, fill, and fry ‘em up. So, as a little reward for your help, what can momma make you for breakfast?”

Just as Pound opened his mouth to issue a request for his mother’s famous chocolate chip pancakes, the kitchen door swung open granting passage to the very antithesis of his breakfast reward. “Sorry honeybun, no time for that!” Carrot Cake announced as he marched into the kitchen. “We’ve got to get started right away!”

“Did something happen?” Cup asked.

“Our timeline got bumped up, substantially. The new deadline is two o’clock instead of four so we’ve got to get started, pronto. Now, where is that Pumpkin Cake?”

“I’m right here, poppa!” The unicorn announced as she burst through the kitchen doors. “Morning, mama.” She greeted her mother with a sunny nuzzle, before turning to her brother with eyes narrowed out of a contempt that could only ever exist between siblings.

“You.” she said flatly.

“You.” Pound replied in as deadpan a tone as his sister’s, if not more so.

“Now, now kids,” Mr. Cake said stepping between his silently-feuding children. “We’ve got lots of work to do, there’ll be plenty of time for chit-chat later.”

“We’re not waiting on Auntie?”

“She’s on decoration detail,” Carrot said. “Won’t be finished for at least three hours, and we need to make as much headway as possible.”

Pound Cake felt a combination of relief and disappointment that the mare he’d been mentally ruining for twenty minutes wouldn’t be around to make the process of working substantially more awkward.

“With that said: honeybun?” Carrot said to his wife.

“Yes, dear?” Cup responded.

“You and I will take care of the Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness centerpiece.”

“Right away, dear,” Cup replied with a rather sloppy salute to her husband.

Carrot turned his attention to his daughter, who awaited her father’s instruction with bated breath. “Pumpkin,” he said.

“Yes, daddy?”

“You’re on hors d'oeuvre and salad detail. When you’re finished with that, you can get started on the main dishes.”

“On it, daddy!” Pumpkin acknowledged with a kiss to her father’s cheek.

“Pound.”

“Yes, dad?”

“You’ve got the short order pastries and later I’m going to need you to go in the freezer and crush a few blocks of ice for drinks. We’re also going to need some fresh coconut milk, if it’s not too much trouble…”

Pound couldn’t stop a spry smile from crawling across his face, a sign that he had taken his father’s bait hook, line, and sinker. He’d never pass up an opportunity to put his special talent to good use, much less two.

“All right gang, no breaks this service. Eat while you work,” Carrot barked. “We’ve got to work fast if we’re going finish before the party starts.”

“Got it!” Pumpkin and Pound said in an instance of unison which ended with the siblings glaring at one another in annoyance.

The family of bakers worked in relative silence to complete their respective assignments with well-honed efficacy. Working as a team, Mr. and Mrs. Cake breathed twenty years of culinary mastery and marital passion into every step of their meticulous cake-creation process. Not a single movement was wasted between the couple as they mixed, baked, and frosted their way through layer after layer of the four piece tall masterpiece.

On the other side of the kitchen, blue sparks borne of magic crackled through the air as Pumpkin allowed her knowledge of spices and stylistics to run rampant through a menu ranging from simple tea sandwiches to appetizers so high-tier that one would swear they were catered from the kitchens of Canterlot Castle. Fruits and vegetables had become little more than paints on her countertop-turned-canvas, knife and tongue her brush and palette.

To the untrained eye, Pound’s work area was utter chaos in stark contrast to his sister’s. The once-pristine countertop was now littered with bowls of raw batter and the cracked, brown husks of coconuts that been drained of their milk and scraped of their meat which would be later repurposed at his family’s discretion. But Pound knew his work station like the back of his hoof and continued unhindered as though the mess was no more than a figment of his imagination.

Three work-filled hours sifted through the family’s hooves like sand and before they knew it, they had cooked and ‘sampled’ their way through a week’s worth of groceries, but it was a small matter. With the pre-arranged sum for the catering, they’d have enough bits to restock, pay off their mortgage and open up a second bakery which they could later demolish just for kicks.

As the third hour drew to a close, the bakery door was flung open granting entry to the bakery’s fifth and most energetically enigmatic resident worker, whom Pound hadn’t seen since their earlier nautical encounter. “Goooood morning everypony!” she chirped, bouncing into the room with her signature prance.

“Good morning to you too, Pinkie. I take it the decorations are finished?” asked Carrot.

“Nope, Rarity said she’d finish up, so I figured I’d come in here and lend a helping hoof to my most favorite family of bakers in all of Equestria. So what can Pinkie do you for?”

“Why don’t you give Pound a hoof with the pastries?” Cup suggested.

As the suggestion passed through his ears, Pound felt the blood in his veins turn to ice and thaw, all in an instant.

“Okie-doki-loki!” Pinkie Pie chirped as she pranced over to Pound’s work area.

“Wait, wait, I’ve got this. Besides, I think Pumpkin needs the help more—”

“I’m fine,” Pumpkin interrupted. As though to prove her point, she telekinetically constructed six sequentially-identical vegetable skewers while mixing a stew pot with her hooves.

“But what about—”

“Pound, your sister can handle the main dishes by herself. I still need you crush those ice blocks in an hour and we can’t afford to lose any momentum on the pastry table.”

“Trying to get out of working with me, cutie-cake?” Pinkie teased as she brushed up next to the colt, sending a shiver down his spine and a rush of blood to his face.

“O-Of course not,” he lied through his teeth. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Pound did his best to avoid looking directly at the pink pony, so as not find himself drowning in those azure pools she called eyes or lost in the residual shame that should have drained along with the bathwater that it was released in.

Pinkie Pie smiled and turned her attention to the task at hoof. “So what’re we makin’ here?” she asked.

Pound swallowed and prayed that he wouldn’t stumble over his words in his flustered state. “Well, the order called for—”

Shampoo bottles pressing in slowly.

“—colate cupcakes, some berry filled tarts—”

Aunt Pinkie taking every inch.

“— and about thirty cinnamon rolls—”

Her lewd, erotic moaning filling my ears.

“—we also need to get started on some eclairs. I’m thinking—”

Those curves…

“—we could just—”

I just want to…

“—put a saddle on that fat rump and ride it raw.”

…throw them in the oven now and cook them slow.

“What do you think?”

As he patiently awaited Pinkie Pie’s input on his plan of attack for finishing up the menu, it slowly occurred to Pound that he’d just erred his words in the worst possible way. All of the blood drained from his face, while his mouth worked uselessly in the vain hopes that it would somehow chant the necessary incantations to turn back time so that he might stay his tongue. But despite his wishing, the words had been loosed, and there was no escaping the fact that he had just stated his desire to ride his aunt in a saddle.

“What was that, cutie-cake?” Pinkie asked the absolutely mortified Pound Cake as though she’d heard nothing. “I didn’t quite catch that bit at the end, something about sliding flat chunks raw?”

Pound couldn’t believe his luck. “Sorry, about that, my tongue slipped. What I meant to say was… and you’re not paying attention again.” He sighed as Pinkie Pie’s attention had once again been diverted away from him to some of the already prepared pastries.

“These sure are some firm buns,” Pinkie Pie remarked, poking at some especially hard-crusted bread.

“Yeah, I’ll bet they are…” he said, his eyes focused not on the pan, but rather his aunt’s thick hindquarters.

“Poundy, what I mean is don’t you think you left these in the oven just the teensiest, tiniest bit too long?”

“Oh! Those, right. I was actually going to start over right after I finish the white-chocolate croissants.”

“No worries, I’ll take care of it. I’m just going to need some of that yeast right there…” Pinkie Pie leaned in front of Pound Cake, unaware that her fluffy, fluffy mane had all but enveloped Pound’s nose.

Time seemed to slow down for the pegasus as the sweet scent of bubblegum and passion fruit washed over his senses, and the bouncy consistency of that magenta mane tickled and teased his nose. He wanted to bury himself in the hair, even graze upon it, just a little bit to sate his urges, but he knew better than to take unnecessary risks. Aside from that, he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but he could swear that he felt something burning into the side of his skull

Following his intuition, Pound glanced out of the corner of his eye just in time to see Pumpkin mouthing the words “Idiot brother,” before resuming her work.

Pound was just about to confront her on the issue when his father’s voice cut him short. “Hey, son?”

“Yeah, dad?”

“Why don’t you let Pinkie take care of the baking? The party starts in forty minutes, and we still need crushed ice for the drinks.”

Pound allowed his suspicious gaze to linger on Pumpkin for just a moment longer before allowing himself to drop the issue. “I’ll get right on it, pops.” He started towards the freezer, but soon found that something had caught his tail, impeding his advance. Assuming he’d simply caught the hairs on a drawer or something similar he turned around to deal with the issue only to find himself face to face with a puppy dog eyed Pinkie Pie.

“You’re leaving Auntie already, cutie-cake?” she asked through a mouthful of his tail, a note of disappointment evident in her voice, her lower lip quivering.

His heart. It stopped. “W-well, I’ve got to, but you know I’ll be bac— gwah!”

Pinkie Pie captured her not-blood-nephew in a rib crushingly tight embrace, lovingly squeezing all of the life from him she could muster. “Good enough for me!”

“Aun…tie… too… tight…” he rasped.

Giggling, Pinkie Pie released her vice grip from his neck, allowing him to collapse upon the floor gasping for air. “See you when you finish,” she said, prancing back to her workstation.

With a sigh, Pound collected himself from the floor and made the trip to the walk-in freezer located—inconveniently enough—downstairs in the kitchen’s basement storeroom. It didn’t take him long to find the ice blocks his father had mentioned. There were five of them, each one standing at least half his height and twice his width.

Lying a little less than a meter away was a frostbitten sledgehammer that had probably been frozen to the floor from years of neglect. A tradition Pound’s rock-hard hooves sought to keep going as he didn’t need tools to aid him in the art of breaking.

Still, ready as he was to start breaking, he found himself shivering, wishing that he’d brought a jacket or some article of clothing. A scarf would have been nice, maybe some mittens or a knitted cap. Or the caress of aunt Pinkie’s soft, warm coat… Pound felt his face growing— thankfully— heated from the thought, and decided to pursue the epiphany even further as he took position over the first of the three blocks. Those plump, luscious lips and hips of hers… he shivered. I bet those’d get me all warmed up. He thought as he drove his hoof through the center of the first block, cleaving it roughly in half.

Crash!

Then the freezer door could lock behind us from the outside…

Crack!

…we’d be trapped in here together…

Smash!

…and we’d have to huddle together for warmth…

Paki!

…and then… and then…

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Pound stopped his hoof just before it collided with the metal floor of the freezer. In his overexcited state he’d absolutely obliterated the ice to the point that it would have to be salvaged as a surprise snowcone service, compliments of the bakery. He was going to have to be more careful with the next four blocks.

As Pound scooped the remains of the first ice block into a container, he discovered a rather embarrassing development from his earlierincredibly stimulating fantasy. As it turned out, the ice wouldn’t be the hardest thing he’d be mercilessly beating in the privacy of the freezer.

“Hey, dweeb!” Pumpkin Cake shouted from outside the freezer door. “It’s been half an hour, and dad says we have to start setting up the food! Are you done crushing that ice yet?”

A moment of silence passed before a shivering Pound Cake emerged from the freezer with several buckets of ice on his back and a soreness in his loins.

“Geez,” said Pumpkin, “you were down there so long I was starting to think that you’d frozen into a Pegasicle… it’s a shame really.”

“Hardy har har,” Pound laughed sardonically. “Are you just here to pester me or are you going to help me move this ice upstairs?”

“Eh, I can multitask.” Pumpkin enveloped several ice buckets with her magic, relieving her brother of bulk of the load. “So, what took you so long? You usually finish up pretty fast.”

“Yeah… I wanted to take my time and enjoy myself, plus the ice was… really slippery…”

“Oh?” Pumpkin rose an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it was so cold I just couldn’t get a grip on it.”

“Mmm, must have been pretty hard to beat it in all that cold, huh?” she asked as she started back to the kitchen, oblivious to the double entendre that only her brother could appreciate.

“You have no idea…” Pound mumbled.

“So…” Pumpkin started.

“Yeah?”

“Are you excited to see them after all this time?”

“Them?” Pound asked.

“Who do you think? Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, it’ll be nice to see them all again, even if they’ll be too busy catching up with their own friends to talk with us much.”

“Nice to see them all, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing… I was just recalling that a certain dweeb—you—had a crush on a certain soon-to-be-married somepony when they were younger, that’s all.”

Pound could feel himself growing flustered. “Tch, that was a kid crush that I had on my foalsitter. It’s not like anything serious could’ve come from it anyway. Besides, she’s a famous pop-star who’s engaged to some snobby, nose-in-the-air Canterlot business jerk. Way out of my league. No point in getting upset if it wouldn’t have worked out in the first place.”

“Yeah, a lot of things in the world just aren’t meant to work out, are they?” Pumpkin muttered.

Pound rose an eyebrow at his sister. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing, Pound. Anyway, will you get the door for me?”

“Why? Your hooves aren’t full.”

“Just think of it as being a gentlecolt or something.”

“Whatever.” Pound took the lead and pushed the bakery door aside, allowing Pumpkin to stroll right in.

“Thanks, little brother,” she called behind herself.

“Yeah, yeah…” Pound said under his breath as he followed her in.

“There you are, son,” Carrot said. “Here I thought you’d frozen into a pegasicle, you were down there so long.”

Pound groaned as the now two minute old joke played through his ears. He briefly wondered if his sister had inherited their father’s corny sense of humor along with his coat and mane coloring.

“Anywho, the guests have started to arrive, so your mother and I need you to start getting the food set up outside while we put the finishing touches on the cake. After that I think your mother, Pinkie and I should be able to handle the rest of the party on our own.”

“Oh?” Pound asked as he pulled a food-cart from a nearby closet. “Are you sure about that?”

“Please, your mother and I were running this bakery for years before we decided to create you two. I think we can handle one little catering service.”

“But what about cleaning up?” Pumpkin asked as she began carefully levitating several dishes onto the cart.

His father waved the concerns away with a hoof. “We’ll take care of it tomorrow morning. Besides, I figured you kids would want to get some enjoyment out of your Saturday.”

“Thanks pops,” said Pound.

“Thanks daddy,” said Pumpkin.

“Now go get those tables set up. We’ve got hungry ponies in our dining room, and nothing brings a baker more shame than a room full of hungry patrons.”

“On it!” The siblings said in tandem, once again instigating them to scowl at one another in irritation, before returning to the task of loading up the cart.

“Oh, Poundy~” Pinkie sang, prancing up to re-greet her favorite not-nephew with a large plate of sizzling something he couldn’t see on her head. “I’ve got something for you!”

“You’ve got for something for me?” Pound asked.

“Well… not for you you, for someponyelse you and it’s not really from me to someponyelse you, it’s from Mrs. Cake to not you you but someponyelse you.”

“What?”

“The malasadas for the girls, honey,” Cup explained, balancing from a step-ladder over the Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness.

“Ah, got it, mom.” Pound bit the plate from Pinkie Pie’s head as she bowed before him. The sweet scent of the sugar coated yeast puffs rose up to meet his nostrils, causing him to salivate slightly..

“Please hurry with those, dear,” Cup urged. “They deflate rather quickly.”

With his mouth full of plate, the colt nodded his compliance, garnering a smile from his mother.

“Come on, let’s get this food out there already!” Pumpkin whined, jabbing her horn sharply into Pound’s rump. “I’ve been in this kitchen for hours!”

“All right, all right!” Pound said to the best of his ability with the plate still in his mouth. He placed the malasada on an empty portion of the cart and took to pushing it out the door, Pumpkin impatiently stabbing him in the backside as he went. Upon exiting the kitchen for the first time in hours, Pound was amazed to find that the restaurant portion of Sugarcube Corner had transformed drastically since he’d laid eyes on it last.

The many red and white candy cane pillars scattered tactfully about the dining room had been indiscriminately recolored in combinations of: orange and purple, rose red and cream-yellow, and ivory-purple swirls. The gumdrops and lollipop shaped ornaments that once adorned the walls had been replaced by ceramic treble clef hearts, cast-iron cogs in the shape of apple, and little winged tires with half-heartedly painted-on flames. There was even a small dais with a full on set of three thrones, each upholstered in the colors of the guests of honor, their cutie marks engraved into a small section at the tip on one each. And at the center of it all hung a rather loud banner that read “Happy Super Spectacular Proengradumotiongagementation Party S, SB, and AB!” If Pound hadn’t known any better, he’d have sworn the place had been converted into a shrine dedicated to the former Cutie Mark Crusaders.

Pushing the meal cart through the dining room, Pound noticed that bakery was practically empty, a direct contradiction to what his father had said earlier. From the urgency in Carrot’s tone, Pound had been half-expecting to be mobbed before he and Pumpkin even made it to the serving table on the far wall. In fact the only other occupants aside from himself and Pumpkin were Ms. Rarity who was finishing up the decorations for the party, Ms. Applejack who was setting up her own portion of the catering, and two ponies in business wear whom he didn’t recognize.

Rarity cast a smile at the twins as they trotted past, Pumpkin returning the gesture while her brother nodded awkwardly and averted his eyes, recalling that she’d been the subject of his less than savory dreams from earlier that morning. Pound found himself looking at the pair in business wear who were occupied scrutinizing the decorations and talking among themselves. The female of the two was a looker in her own right but barely held a presence compared to the especially large unicorn stallion whose lips were parted in a cheesy, plastic grin. If he had to hazard a guess, the stallion with the stupidly large grin was none other than that business tycoon fiancé of Sweetie Belle’s he’d heard nothing about.

“Well, howdy there, you two,” a voice rich in southern twang called out, bringing his attention back to Applejack.

“Hi, Applejack!” said Pumpkin.

“Heya, sugarcube.” Applejack nuzzled the unicorn in greeting.

“Hey, Ms. Apple—” Pound started before Applejack curtly cut the colt off.

“Uh-uh, we talked about this, Pound. Don’t nopony but nopony call me Ms. Apple. Not my brother, not my sister, not my field-hands, and ‘specially not my friends.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, about that, Ms—” Pound caught a glare brewing and quickly corrected himself. “I mean, AJ.”

“That’s better.” Much to Pound’s disappointment, the farmer only extended her hoof in greeting, but he took it nonetheless. “Land’s sake, that’s a lot of grub y’all cooked up. I’m just wondering if it’s gonna be enough. Big Mac’s got an appetite like a pregnant sow, and between you an’ me, Apple Bloom just don’t know when to drop the fork—”

“Applejack!” An appalled voice whined from behind.

“Hey there, little sis,” Applejack said, waving to the source of the new voice.

Pound turned to see who he’d apparently missed walking through the dining room only to find himself pushed aside by a livid cream-coated mare with a mane that was as scarlet as her cheeks. As she barreled past, Pound couldn’t help but catch a faint whiff of apple blossom perfume and a distant touch of gear grease.

“Don’t try and change the subject!” The mare Pound recognized as Apple Bloom bellowed, “I’ll have you know that I have a perfectly normal appetite for a growing young mare!”

“Apple Bloom, you were a ‘growing young mare’ fifteen years ago,” said Applejack.

“Yeah, now she’s just a bottomless pit with an engineering degree,” chimed in yet another very familiar voice.

“Oh, shut up, Scootaloo,” Apple Bloom pouted as the violet-maned mare hugged a foreleg around her neck.

“Yeah, whatever. You know I’m right,” Scootaloo beamed and turned her attention to Pound. Her smile widened as she locked eyes with her former flight protege, though given her lesson plan at the time, the term flight victim would have been more fitting. “Well, look at you, little lead hooves,” she said, slinking over towards Pound, her sleek, well-toned hips rolling elegantly with each step. She stopped in front of Pound and gave him a once over, nodding approvingly as though she were inspecting an especially squared-away Wonderbolts recruit. “Someone’s certainly done some growing up since I saw them last. I’m willing to bet all the fillies are just lining up to get turned down by you, huh?”

Pound nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his head, unsure of how to take the compliment. “Well, no, not really.”

“Oh?” Scootaloo grinned cattily. “So, does that mean you’re available?”

Whether Scootaloo was serious or joking, Pound could feel his face and cheeks growing warm. Against his better judgement, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could begin to stumble over his words Pumpkin said, “I can see you’re a little busy entertaining guests, so I’ll just start setting up the food.”

“Applesauce, Scoots, stop teasing the dang boy,” Apple Bloom said.

“Who says I’m teasing him?” Scootaloo seized the colt around the neck, pulling him close. If his face had been warm before, then with Scootaloo’s cheek rubbing against his cheek it was absolutely boiling now. “It’s not everyday you see a prime specimen like Pound here. A strong back, cute and he can cook? I could think of a few uses for him back in Cloudsdale...”

A delightfully awkward shiver ran down Pound’s spine.

“Whoo-wee, y’hear that, Pumpkin?” asked Applejack. “Sounds like you oughta keep an eye on your brother before Scootaloo here steals him away.”

“Eh,” said Pumpkin, as she levitated serving platters five at a time onto the table. “Let her take him, one less dorky little brother occupying the bathroom in the morning. Just make sure you ask mom and dad first.”

“Hear that, Pound?” Scootaloo hung a wing over Pound’s back, locking him even closer in the embrace, causing him to shiver. “I’m just one question away from taking you back home with me.” Scootaloo pawed playfully at his chest with a hoof. “I think I’ll wait until your dad starts doing body shots off your mom before I drop the question, that way I’m sure to get a yes.”

Due to the combined efforts of a horrifying mental image that was slowly scarring his imagination and an incredibly alluring proposition from an equally alluring—if somewhat immodest— mare who was sprawled across his back, Pound found himself once again jaw-dropped and struggling to find the words to fill his gaping maw.

“And here I thought y’all Wonderbolts was supposed to conduct yourselves to a higher standard or something,” said Apple Bloom.

“Psh, only in uniform.” Scootaloo waved the scrutiny off with a hoof. “Besides, if you think this is bad, just wait till they break out the hard cider later.”

“Oh brother, you never change, do ya, Scoots?”

“Like you don’t love it.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes and shook her head, a spry smile creeping on her lips.

“Say, where’s Sweetie Belle?” Pound asked. “The party starts in…” He glanced at a nearby clock. “Seven minutes and she’s still not here.”

“Running fashionably late to her own party, of course,” said Rarity, who had just finished the party decorations.“I’d expect nothing less from my little sister. Why Pumpkin, you’re looking absolutely darling this evening.”

“Thank you, Ms. Rarity,” Pumpkin said.

“Say, Rarity, where’s Sweetie Belle—” said Pound

“That’s Ms. Rarity, darling.”

“My apologies, Ms. Rarity,” Pound hastily corrected himself.

“All’s forgiven, my little pony.” Rarity gave the pegasus a light pat on his head in acceptance of the apology.

“Well, then, Ms. Rarity, where do you reckon your sister might be that would make her so ‘fashionably’ late?” asked Applejack.

“She’s probably still stuck in that mess outside.”

“Mess outside?” asked Pumpkin.

“What mess outside?” asked Pound.

“Didn’t y’all see that huge crowd outside?” asked Apple Bloom.

“What crowd?” Pound and Pumpkin asked in tandem. Both winced as they realized that they’d shared three moments of twin unison in a single day.

“Take a look outside.” Applejack pointed the twins to a nearby window. Pumpkin and Pound glanced at each other, puzzled, and stepped up to the window. Their jaws dropped at the sheer, oceanic volume of ponies lined up outside their bakery. “They been growing in number since I got here.”

“Whoa, are they all here for the party?” asked Pumpkin.

“Eeyup,” Applejack replied as she approached. “Well most of them anyway. Gotta check their invitations and all.”

“I didn’t even know there were that many ponies in Ponyville,” Pound marvelled.

“There aren’t,” said Rarity. “Those are all fans of my sister’s music.”

“Hey,” said Scootaloo. “I’ve got some fans out there too! ...I think… well, I should, I’m a Wonderbolt for crying out loud!”

“Oh yeah,” said Apple Bloom, squinting into the crowd. “Now that you mention it, I think I see a few out there now.”

“Really?” Scootaloo bolted over to the window, her wings buzzing ecstatically.

“Nope, but it was nice to hear for a moment, wasn’t it?”

“...I hate you.”

“Love ya too, Scoots,” Apple Bloom grinned deviously.

“Hey, what’s going on there?” Pumpkin pointed to what appeared to be a parting of the sea that was the crowd.

“Yeah, what is that?” asked Apple Bloom leaning forward.

It was at this moment that Pound realized that he was literally covered in mares, with the exception of his sister because as far as he was concerned, she could never count as a woman, only a bogwitch. Still, the softness and warmth of the other four pressed against him, while pleasant, was starting to get to him in the best possible way.

Returning his focus to the mass of ponies outside, he noticed that there was a drastic change in their behavior: they were going absolutely nuts. Camera flashes and hoof pumps suddenly started to erupt throughout the crowd, and what had once been inaudible chatter had grown to a dull screeching through the glass. Perhaps what was even stranger about the part in the crowd was that every so often a member of the throng, be they pegasus or otherwise, would go sailing through the air as though they’d been thrown back. A moment later, two very significant looking figures burst out of the crowd, the notably larger of the two struggling to keep the rest of crowd from ambushing its smaller companion.

Scootaloo scratched her chin in thought as she observed the conflict.“Hey, isn’t that…”

“Babs and Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom cheered, racing towards the front door.

“It’s about time them two showed up.” Applejack trotted away from the window “I was starting to think the fritters I whipped up were gonna go cold before we got this party started.”

“If you’ll all excuse me, I simply can’t be seen looking like I’ve been working all day; I’ve got to go freshen up,” said Rarity.

“You look fine, Rar’, and besides, she’s your sister. She ain’t gonna care what you look like. Why don’t you just wait out here a spell and say hi to her. I know it’s been awhile since y’all laid eyes on each other.”

“Oh, no, no, no, Sweetie Belle simply can’t see her big sister looking like this.” Rarity gestured to her ‘disheveled’ appearance, but as far as Pound or Applejack could see, the unicorn still had the same pristine, high-maintenance appearance she always bore. “It’ll only be a moment, darlings. I’m sure you’ll find some way to manage on your own for a few moments.”

Applejack rolled her eyes as Rarity trotted off in search of a washroom.“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” she mumbled under her breath. “Well, anyway, it looks like Apple Bloom’s gonna need some help getting Babs and Sweetie Belle situated. You coming to help, Pound? Pound?”

Applejack may as well have been speaking to a rock with eyes painted on its surface, because Pound’s eyes were glued to the snow-white rump and swaying violet tail disappearing around the corner as Applejack continued to speak fruitlessly at the colt.

“Pound!” Applejack bellowed, finally getting the colt’s attention. “Are you gonna help us get them two in or not?”

“Oh… oh right! Yes, I’m on it, Ms—”

Applejack cleared her throat quite loudly, effectively cutting Pound off before he could delve even deeper into her pet peeve.

“I mean, on it, Applejack!”

The two rushed to the door where Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Pumpkin had set up in preparation to extract Sweetie Belle and Babs from the crowd.

“What’s the plan here, little sis?” Applejack asked.

“Hey, why do you think she’s in charge?” Scootaloo pouted, but was ultimately ignored.

“All right,” Apple Bloom started, “So what I’m thinking is that you, Pound and Scootaloo hold the door as tight as possible, while me and Pumpkin try to pull Sweetie Belle through first.”

“What about Babs?”

“Well…” Apple Bloom glanced out the glass and noticed a sadistic grin adorning her Manehattanite cousin’s face as the auburn coated earth pony seized a pegasus who’d flown too close to Sweetie Belle and judo-slammed the fan into three more of his ill spaced ilk. “Something tells me she’ll manage her own way in.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Pound, Scootaloo, get that door open no more than two feet and keep it that way.”

“Got it, AJ!” Scootaloo and Pound braced themselves against the door as Applejack loosened the lock and pulled the handle down. Almost immediately, there was a surge of pressure against the door that almost caused Pound to stumble forward and lose his place on the door. Struggling to regain his leverage, Pound could completely hear the roar of the crowd now. He wondered just how many ponies he was holding back and for how long he, Scootaloo, and Applejack would be able to keep them from storming in.

“Sis, y’all got that door?” Apple Bloom asked her sister.

“Yes!” Applejack grunted, her voice just barely audible over the noise from the crowd. “Now just get her in here!”

“Right.” Apple Bloom nodded, turning her attention to the mass of bodies before her, eyes peeled for any hide or hair of Sweetie Belle. Amidst the the sea of appendages, she saw a familiar white hoof that was flailing a little more desperately than the others. Instinctively, she seized the hoof and began to pull with all her might, eventually exposing the pained and strained face of her best friend. Now completely certain that she was in fact reeling in Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom shouted behind herself, “Pumpkin, help me out!”

Pumpkin however, was two steps ahead of Apple Bloom. Her horn already aglow, she reached out with her magic and seized her partner by the tail. With one great tug, she managed to pull Apple Bloom back into the bakery, and with her, the still crowd swarmed Sweetie Belle. Their progress, as they would soon find, was short-lived.

“Apple Bloom, I’m stuck!” Sweetie Belle cried. “Open the door a bit more so I can get through!”

“We…. ngh… can’t!” Applejack grunted. “If we open it anymore, we’ll lose our leverage!”

“You gotta suck it in and squeeze through!” Apple Bloom instructed. “Now, come on and give it all you got!”

“All right,” Sweetie Belle said. “Here… I… go!”

Pound could feel more struggling and pushing from the other side of the door before he heard a loud “Pop!” from the door.

“We got Sweetie Belle in!” Apple Bloom shouted.

“All righty, let’s get your cousin in too,” Applejack suggested.

Pound watched as Apple Bloom wasted no time racing back to the sea of faces and hooves that were protruding through the door. He couldn’t help but think of those old, cheesy zombie movies where a character gets dragged out by the horde and the hero races to pull them back to safety.

Apple Bloom seized a big auburn hoof that she recognized as her cousin’s and pulled with all her might to reel the mare from the crowd. “Babs!” she yelled upon seeing her cousin’s familiar round, freckled face and green eyes surface. “Babs!”

“Heya ‘cuz—” Babs paused to elbow an especially lively unicorn in the face “—wassup?

“Babs, you gotta get in here!”

“What’re you, nuts? If Sweetie Belle barely fit in there, there ain’t no way I’m fittin’ in there.”

Pound cast a glance at the mare Apple Bloom was speaking with. Though he only saw her from the chest up, he had to agree that there was no way in tartarus that she was fitting through two feet of entrance. From what he could see, she had the build of a slightly smaller, slightly rounder Big Macintosh, and she could probably take the big stallion in a fight.

“Besides,” Babs continued “This is the perfect time for me to C.I.C.C.”

“What the hay does that mean?”

A wide smile spread across her cousin’s face. “Check invitations and clean some clocks!” Babs spun back towards the mob of fans with a vengeance, her right hoof already flying in a devastating haymaker that sent an impossible number of bodies soaring through the air. With a devastating stomp, she addressed the mass of decidedly inferior ponies. “Ain’t none of you losers gettin’ into this party without an invitation, so get it out or get dirt napped!” she roared, charging back into the fray.

Pound could feel the pressure against the door lessen dramatically, before slamming shut due to a sudden lack of resistance. Applejack was quick to bolt the door, peeking out a nearby window only to see her younger cousin utilizing an especially skinny unicorn as a club to beat other members of the crowd with. “We’ll, uh, we’ll just let Babs sort them folks outside before we start lettin’ the guests in.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Apple Bloom.

“I don’t think we made enough food for tonight,” Pumpkin muttered.

“Definitely not,” Pound agreed.

“Well, they ain’t all on the guest list,” Apple Bloom said to the twins. “Just give Babs some time and she’ll have that mess sorted out.”

“So, that’s one way to make an entrance.” Scootaloo turned her attention to Sweetie Belle, who looked surprisingly skittish for a pony who spent most of their time singing before crowds. “It looks like you’re doing pretty good for yourself.”

“Yeah, sorry about that...” Sweetie Belle rubbed a foreleg nervously. “I didn’t mean to bring them, but my agent insisted on making a huge fuss about the party and the next thing I knew… well…” She glanced outside and was treated to the sight of Babs elbow dropping the consciousness out of a retreating pegasus who just couldn’t fly away fast enough. “Sorry,” she squeaked, wincing in anticipation of forthcoming lambastment.

“Same old Sweetie Belle.” Scootaloo shook her head and swept the unicorn up into a deep hug.

“It’s good to see that you ain’t let all that fame go to your head,” said Apple Bloom, following her fellow former Crusader's lead.

“Yeah, your sister’s got that covered for you in spades,” mumbled Applejack.

Sweetie Belle pushed out of the embrace to face Applejack. “Speaking of Rarity, where is she?”

“Upstairs, gettin’ all gussied up for you.”

“She doesn’t need to do that for me, I just want to see her. The last time we saw each other was when she came to visit me last Hearth’s Warming, and that was eight months ago.”

Applejack shrugged. “That’s what I said, but you know your sis’, always frettin’ and fussin’ over a hair out of place and such.”

Sweetie Belle sighed in loving concurrence with Applejack.

“But you know, there’s somepony else here you ain’t seen in a spell who you might want to say hello to.”

“Oh?” Sweetie Belle tilted her head out of curiosity.

“Your two oldest fans over there.” Applejack nodded to Pumpkin and Pound who were patiently watching the unicorn as though they’d been waiting their turn for a nostalgic reunion with their old part-time caretaker.

With a renewed warmth in her smile, Sweetie Belle approached the twins. “Hey you two, how’ve you be—”

Before the question could fully leave her tongue, Pumpkin had already pushed Pound aside and flung herself at Sweetie Belle, squeezing her old foalsitter with all the affectionate might she could muster. “It’s been so long!”

“Hello—mmf!— Pumpkin,” Sweetie Belle gasped, what with her ribs being constricted and all.

“You need to visit more…” Pumpkin mumbled, burying her muzzle into Sweetie Belle’s coat.

The older of the two unicorns gave a soft sigh and returned the embrace, stroking Pumpkin’s short mane as soothingly as she could. “I know, but I’m just so busy with work that I barely have any time to myself these days.”

Pumpkin looked up from Sweetie Belle’s bosom and pouted. “Then why don’t you take some time off?”

“I’d love to, I really would. It’s just… it’s complicated, Pumpkin.” Sweetie Belle could feel Pumpkin’s frown deepen. “Tell you what, though.” Sweetie Belle grinned to herself as Pumpkin’s ears perked up.

“I’m listening,” Pumpkin said.

“I’ll have a little time between the honeymoon and my next concert tour. If you can clear it with your parents, what do you say we take a little trip to Canterlot, Manehatten and Fillydelphia?”

“Would we get to visit all of the five-star restaurants on the Manehattan strip?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Mmm…” Pumpkin playfully scratched her chin in thought. “I suppose I could overlook your busy schedule… provided you Pinkie Pie promise.”

“Glad to hear that you’re in such a forgiving mood,” Sweetie Belle said quite spryly.

“What can I say? A pony of my benevolence is hard to come by these days.”

“Oh, is that so?” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes, smirking. “Anyway I cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye—”

“Don’t just say it! Do it!” boomed the ever omnipresent voice of Pinkie Pie.

Sweetie Belle glanced around uncertainly for the source of the voice. “Errr… right… anyway, it’s a promise. Now where’s your brother?”

“Little brother,” Pumpkin clarified.

“Right, your little brother, who you are definitely older than by eight minutes.”

“Never forget it.”

“Where is he? Wasn’t he right here a moment ago?”

“Hey, Sweetie Belle,” Pound greeted, balancing a plate from the serving table on his head.

“How’s my favorite pegasus doing these days?”

“Hey, I thought I was your favorite pegasus!” Scootaloo whined.

“Not too bad, I guess,” Pound continued. He met Sweetie Belle’s emerald eyes and instantly felt a surge of butterflies swarm into his gut. By his count, it had been two years since she’d left Ponyville to begin her music career in Canterlot, and in that time she’d only grown more beautiful than he remembered her being. Sure, every now and then Pound would catch glimpse of Sweetie Belle immortalized on the front page of some newspaper or magazine cover, but photographs with their incredibly limited dimensions could only do the mare so much justice.

A photograph couldn’t capture the kind spark gleaming in her eyes, or the perfection that was her color palette: a cream base complemented by the strawberry-lilac swirls of her mane. A photograph couldn’t properly represent the depth of her hourglass-figured body, wide, birthing hips and long, full legs flowing in erotic symmetry to give structure to what could only be considered the most perfect derriere in all of Equestria.

Pound bit his lower lip as his eyes traced her cream-colored hindquarters from treble heart cutie mark to the base of her two-toned cotton candy tail. The flesh of her marshmallow rump looked so soft, so delectable, all he could think of was burying his face in it and kissing every inch.

“Umm, Pound?” Sweetie Belle waved a hoof in front of the daydreaming colt’s face. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, y-yeah, t-these are for you.” With the shaky hooves of a love struck foal about to confess to their first crush, he presented Sweetie Belle with the plate of pastries his mother had been working on since early that morning.

“Are those…” Sweetie Belle leaned closer to the plate, sniffing the sweet aroma emanating from the dough puffs “They are! Oh my gosh, malasadas!” Sweetie Belle levitated the plate from Pound’s hooves and snatched one of the pastries from its resting place, chomping down on the gooey, apple-filled treats. “Soooo goood… did you make these, Pound?”

“No, mom did, but I helped… sorta…”

“Oh, Celestia, your mother always made the best malasadas. It’s good to see she hasn’t lost her touch.” Sweetie Belle took another hearty bite of the confection, moaning almost orgasmically as she savored the taste of warm apple cream and moist, cinnamon sweet bread. Pound couldn’t help but notice specks of leftover cinnamon and apple cream adorning Sweetie Belle’s lips. He was on the verge of saying something when her tongue—her oh so perfect tongue— glided slowly over those full, luscious lips, lapping up the spillage greedily.

“Mmm… You’re really lucky, Pound, you can get this stuff whenever you want. I’d have to order in from Hoofington if I wanted malasadas, but even then they’re nowhere near as great as your mom’s.” As Sweetie Belle bit into the remains of her treat, Pound was content to just watch her lips purse and plump with each bite. But like all good things, the moment was over all too quickly. “Hey, you know who would love some of these?”

“Scootaloo?” Pound offered hopefully.

“My fiancé!”

At those words, Pound could feel the cold, sharp dagger of reality plunging into his side, twisting slowly as it drained ounce after ounce of his happiness from his smile.

“Oh wait, you’ve never met my fiancé before, have you?” Sweetie Belle said, unaware that she was practically kicking a downed Pound right in the emotional well being.

“No, but that’s quite—”

Sweetie Belle wasn’t listening to Pound anymore, her mind was already set to the task of finding her betrothed in the bakery’s dining room. It didn’t take her long to spot the pair of business ponies and wave them over. “Honey! Honey, over here! There’s somepony I want you to meet.”

Pound groaned under his breath as the pair approached. Now that he could see them better, he realized that the stallion in their party looked like a bigger tool than he’d initially given him credit for, but there was something about his companion, namely the look in her cold, calculating amethyst eyes, that sent a chill down Pound’s spine. If he had to put a word to it, he’d say that there was a ruthless quality about her. It didn’t help that she wielded all of the emotional range of frozen granite either.

“And who are these charming young ponies?” asked the stallion whom Pound presumed to be Sweetie Belle’s fiancé. The guy was still flashing that stupidly ingenuous smile, like his face had frozen that way after holding it too long.

“These are the twins I was telling you both about. They catered the whole party by themselves,” Sweetie Belle exaggerated.

“Oh, did they?” the stallion asked.

Pumpkin puffed her chest out proudly. “Well, most of it. Mama and papa still have to finish up the centerpiece, but until then, I —with a little help from my brother— have prepared the feast you see before you to hold you over.”

Pound rolled his eyes at his sister’s unsurprising diminishment of his own contributions.

“Oh, quite impressive, young lady. Very impressive indeed. I’ll be looking forward to sampling the delicacies of Sugarcube Corner that Sweetie Belle’s told us so much about.”

“Hey mister, who are you anyway?” Pumpkin asked quite curtly.

“Ah, where are my manners, the name’s Bold Front.” The stallion shook hooves with Pumpkin before extending the gesture of goodwill towards Pound. “But please, call me ‘Bold’, because fortune always favors me.”

Where Pumpkin snickered, Pound struggled to keep himself from grimacing at the awful, awful one liner. The worst part was that the guy actually winked as he said it. Still, this was the stallion that Sweetie Belle’s mouth-wateringly perfect flank was engaged to, afterall. It was only sporting that he offer this tool some much overdue praise.

“By the way, congratulations, Mr. Bold.”

“What for? This filly killing smile?”

Pound cocked an eyebrow. Not only did Sweetie Belle’s fiancé look like a self-absorbed douche, but he was playing the part flawlessly. “No… for your engagement.”

Bold Front chuckled before asking, “What engagement?”

Needless to say, Pound was utterly confused. “Aren’t you engaged to Sweetie Belle?”

“Oh ho, I could only wish that I’d be so fortunate to be engaged to such a radiant rose of a mare.” Bold turned his daring eyes and winning smile to Sweetie Belle and shot her a wink.

“Oh stop it, Bold,” Sweetie Belle blushed and giggled.

“Yes, please do,” said the cold-eyed mare Pound had presumed to be Bold’s assistant. Pound might have been imagining it, but she almost sounded jealous.

“Heh, sorry about that Ms. Silver Spoon,” Bold apologized.

“But… but I thought you were that big-time CEO for the company who’s paying for this whole thing.”

“Well then, I guess he’s worth every bit that I pay him, isn’t he?” The gray mare pushed her frameless spectacles further up her nose.

“Wait, what?”

“Bold here is what we call a front man, basically an actor,” she explained.

“I’m pretty darn good at it, too,” Bold confirmed, still smiling smarmily.

“You see, despite the fact that Equestria has been ruled by two princesses for over a thousand years, in the business world, nopony takes a mare seriously. Not even one heading a multi-million bit silver refining industry. That said, when my father gave me the keys to his company, I figured the best way to run his business was to have a stallion ‘heading the ship’ so to speak. It certainly makes dealing so much easier.”

“So wait, you’re the one paying for this party then, right?” asked Pound.

“That’s right.” Silver Spoon said.

Pound’s eyes darted uncertainly between Sweetie Belle and the ever stoic-faced Silver Spoon. “Then wouldn’t that make you… and Sweetie Belle…”

She rose an eyebrow and casually finished Pound’s question for him. “Lovers?”

“Yeah, that.” Contrary to what Silver Spoon had probably misconstrued as homophobia, it wasn’t the fact that they were both mares that threw Pound off about their engagement. He’d seen same sex couples in Ponyville before, and while he’d thought nothing of the male couples, the lesbian pairs were always a welcome deposit in his mental spank bank. No, it was the extreme polarity in their personalities that threw him for a loop.

“Then yes, although she’s so these days busy that we almost never see each other.”

“Oh, I’m the busy one?” Sweetie Belle pursed her lips and marched over to Silver Spoon. “What about you, Ms. ‘Oh I’m sorry I can’t make it to dinner with you on your only day off because my client requested a last minute meeting at the same place we already had plans at’.”

“Ngh! That was just bad timing.” Silver Spoon reasoned. “My schedule is usually clear since I’ve got Bold to stand in for me at the company. In fact if I wanted, I could do almost all of my work from our apartment.”

“You still could have invited me, you know...” Sweetie Belle pouted.

Silver Spoon stomped a hoof in frustration. “That was three weeks ago!”

“And I usually have to go on tours for months at a time!”

“Right, so you’re busier than I am!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Yes it was!”

“No it wasn—” Sweetie Belle stopped herself as she recalled why she’d even confronted Silver Spoon in the first place. “Shut up.”

Both mares just glared each other down for a moment, their faces beet-red and their breathing heavy. Pound glanced nervously between the feuding lovers, afraid to breathe wrong, much less say anything. He briefly recalled the quote: ‘Hell hath no fury like a mare scorned’ and couldn’t help but remark how perfectly correct the coiner of that little phrase was, especially now that he was seeing that truth squared.

The tension between the two held for only a moment longer before Silver Spoon sighed and dropped her head in concession. “Look, Sweetie, I’m… I’m sorry, all right?” She pushed up her glasses and rubbed her eyes before continuing. “It’s just a little frustrating not getting to see you for months or weeks or days at a time, and I… I…” Silver Spoon stopped as she felt a soft hoof grab her one of own. She looked up and met the eyes of her special somepony, who smiled warmly at her.

“Hey,” Sweetie Belle said, “we’re together now though, right?”

Silver Spoon smiled right back at her love and moved closer to Sweetie Belle. “Right. I want to make this time together last.”

“Then let’s not waste it by arguing.”

“You have any better ideas?”

Sweetie Belle rose her free hoof to Silver Spoon’s cheek, brushed a stray strand of hair from the earth pony’s eye and said, “Just this…”

Pound’s eyes grew wide as he watched Sweetie Belle lean forward and lock lips with Silver Spoon, who pressed into the kiss just as passionately.

“Hot,” said Scootaloo, who was watching the scene just as intensely as Pound. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips parting into mischievous grin. A moment later, she sidled closer and began playfully swatting the back of his thighs with her tail.

Pound could feel the tips of his ears growing hot. Between Scootaloo’s teasing and the lesbian lovers indulging in each other’s lips, his mind was going a thousand miles a minute. To say that he was getting turned on by all this would have been an understatement, but even with all his willpower he couldn’t hold back his arousal forever. Though it wasn’t as though he could just turn tail and trot away; after all, what red-blooded stallion—nay, what red-blooded male of any species could just turn a blind eye to the sight of two especially attractive females in the throes of passion? He was the moth, the lovers the flame, Scootaloo’s tail the fan stoking an already blazing fire and something had him convinced that he’d like very much to burn up in the moment.

As if summoned by divine intervention, an errant orange tail lashed out and cracked Pound right in the muzzle, snapping him from his trance. “Ow! What the hay, Pumpkin?” He rubbed his stinging nose, which he was certain would begin to welt up in a moment. Pound turned to chew his sister out, but noticed that something was off about her. Normally she’d be snickering or smirking snidely at his misery, but at the moment her face was screwed up in a scowl. “Hey, what was that for?”

Pumpkin huffed. “No reason. I just felt like it. Now come on, we need to see if mom and dad need anymore help in the kitchen.”

“No need for that, kids,” the voice of their father grunted from behind. Pound turned around to find his parents wheeling in their bakery’s eccentrically large signature cake. “Your mother and I’ve got the rest. You both just go ahead and enjoy the party.”

“Oh! Oh! What about me, Mr. Cake, what can I do?” asked Pinkie Pie.

“You… can… entertain the guests as they come in?” Carrot suggested.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Cake, sir!” Pinkie Pie saluted, before prancing towards the front door, where the guests were finally being allowed to trickle in, most of them a bit shaken from their run in with the over-aggressive door mare.

Pound smiled after his exuberant aunt and frowned just as quickly when she stopped to congratulate Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon on their engagement. Watching the two mares holding hooves and smiling warmly would’ve been a beautiful sight to most, but the experience left Pound with hollow feeling in his gut. The idea of two equally attractive mares tying the knot was hot to be sure and he couldn’t possibly be any happier for Sweetie Belle, but at the same time, it was a bit dejecting to know that his harmless little colthood crush would never amount to anything more than just that.

He watched the two for just a moment longer and turned away with a sigh. With his parents insisting on handling the service and nothing else to take his mind off of the soon to be life-locked lovebirds, Pound retired to an empty booth and prepared to take part in the great teenaged pastime of brooding.

As he sulked, the party only seemed to grow in intensity around him while he sat in the corner, all but forgotten. Music had begun to play and the lights had grown dim, but the change in atmosphere fell on deaf ears and blind eyes. He blinked at some point and found a plate of food in front of him that he couldn’t recall having gotten up to get. He faintly remembered his mother saying something to him, but couldn’t remember what it was, though he assumed she was the one who brought him the food.

“Hey, dweeb,” called the first voice he’d heard in a small eternity. Pound glanced up lazily at the source of the voice and found Pumpkin looking at him with concern in her eyes. “What’s up with you? You’ve just been sitting here staring into space for an hour and half.”

Pound blinked and sought out the nearest clock, only to find that Pumpkin had been indeed telling the truth; it was almost six in the evening. Sensing that Pumpkin wasn’t just going to let her question go unanswered, Pound sat up and waited patiently for his sister to slide into the seat across from his.

“So?” asked Pumpkin.

“So, what?” Pound replied.

“What’s wrong with you? Why were you just sitting here staring at a wall for an hour?”

“I… it’s nothing, sis. I was just enjoying the music.”

Pumpkin scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“What?”

“I’ve heard the music you listen to and this is so not your sound.”

Pound took a moment to bend his ear to the music pumping in the background, and winced as terribly composed bubblegum pop violated his ear drum. “Okay, you’re right, this music is terrible.”

“I know, I requested it just to spite you. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care, anyway?”

“Because I’m your big sister and I care about you... or something.”

“You make me feel so reassured.”

“Just talk to me, you’ll feel better.”

“Well, it’s nothing really….” Pumpkin followed Pound’s gaze to the soon to be happily married couple—Sweetie Belle in particular— and immediately understood the source of her brother’s plight.

“Guess you’re taking the engagement pretty hard, huh?”

“More or less.” Pound distractedly rolled a bite-sized muffin across his plate.

“Don’t take it too hard, you didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in tartarus anyway.”

“Gee, thanks, sis. I’m feeling way better now,” Pound said flatly.

“I’m not saying it to be mean.”

“Really?”

“Do you know how long those two have been together?”

“Do you?”

“Since we were kids, according to Sweetie Belle.”

“Wait, what?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But how did we never notice?”

“Guess they’re just really good at keeping secrets.”

“Wow… I mean, that doesn’t make me feel any better, but that’s impressive.”

“Hey, I know it’s a little hard for you, but cheer up, you’re not too bad looking, you’ll find somepony.” Pumpkin turned her head to find her brother staring at her with a puzzled look. “What?”

“Why are you being so… nice?“

“Because… because I know what it’s like to have your feelings go unnoticed by somepony for a long time, too.”

Pound rose an eyebrow, unsure of what to think about this oddly approachable side of his sister.

“Well, that and I figured if I buttered you up enough, you’d slide a few of those chocolate Danishes my way.”

“Why don’t you go up and get your own?”

“Because of that.” Pumpkin gestured towards the food table, which had been all but picked clean by the guests. “So...”

“Don’t choke trying to eat them all in one bite.” Pound advised, pushing his plate towards Pumpkin.

“Hmph.” Pumpkin pouted as she bit off a hearty chunk of the danish.

“Anyway, thanks, Pumpkin.”

“No problem, dweeb,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate cream and crust. “What else is a big sister for?”

“Making every moment of life a waking nightmare?” Pound joked.

“That too. So you gonna stop moping around and enjoy the party?” Pumpkin slid out of the booth and popped a mini-muffin into her mouth.

“Nah, I’m pretty beat. I Think—” Pound interrupted himself with a mighty yawn before sliding out of the booth himself. “—I think I’ll grab a quick nap, and come back down later.”

Pumpkin shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, disappearing into the crowd.

Now alone, Pound took a moment to appreciate the atmosphere of the party and the interactions of the guests. Scootaloo sat across from an annoyed looking Apple Bloom, knocking back glass after glass of hard cider, presumably against her best friend’s wishes and warnings.

Curiously enough, he found Applejack and Rarity chewing the fat with Fluttershy and Big Macintosh—both of whom he hadn’t seen come in— but no Pinkie Pie in sight. Not on the dance floor, not at the buffet table. Normally his aunt would have been going absolutely nuts in the crowd, commandeering the DJ’s turn tables, throwing every manner firework known to pony kind, and ensuring the extinction of the eclair population, but she was nowhere to be seen. Weird, he thought, but did not dwell on it.

Pound had made it halfway through the crowd when a shiver raced down his spine. He could feel something, some invisible force burrowing into the back of his head like a frozen dagger’s tip. He turned around to find the source and could have sworn that Silver Spoon was boring into him from across the room with those cold, emotionless eyes of hers. Her attention was commanded by Sweetie Belle, who said all of three words before Silver Spoon snapped at her and the two found themselves immersed in yet another heated lover’s quarrel.

Maybe she was looking at someone else, Pound thought, hoping that whatever the pair were bickering about had nothing to do with him. With a shrug, he cast it into the back of his mind and proceeded to climbed the stairs, unaware that his day was only going to take a turn for the weirder once he reached the top.

Before we continue the unbelievably droll tale of a sexually frustrated colt, aside from the obvious question of why are you even still reading this, the writer would like to ask which of the following statements best describes your opinion on erotic fiction:

A. Twincest is wincest.

B. There’s always room for one more (Ménage à trois)

C. True Passion Lies At The Bottom of a Shot Glass

D. There’s nothing like the eccentricity of an older woman

Act D: Bakin’ Up a Cutie Cake With Your Auntie ‘Kinky’ Pie (Gettin’ Kinky In The Kitchen With A Cradle Robbin’ Cutie)

Warning/Disclaimer: The following chapter contains depictions of an eccentric sexual encounter between two cartoon horses, one of whom is well past the age of consent, and another who is above the age of consent in the state of Hawaii and select other countries. If the fetishitic nature of a sexually eccentric older woman offends you, then you will never know why Stacie’s mom had it going on.

Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too

Written By: Your Antagonist

Act D- Bakin’ Up a Cutie Cake With Your Auntie ‘Kinky’ Pie (Gettin’ Kinky In The Kitchen With A Cradle Robbin’ Cutie)

When Pound Cake rounded the corner to his room, it became immediately apparent that something was amiss: the door to his room was ajar slightly, when it should have been very much closed. As an overly-cautious, chronic masturbator, Pound had made it a habit to always shut his door upon entering and leaving his room, without fail, and this morning was no exception. That said, as he approached his door cautiously, he was already trying to discern a list of potential culprits in his head.

His parents were still downstairs catering the party as they would be for the remainder of the evening until the early hours of the morning. He could almost see them smiling wearily but genuinely as the hours dragged on and things gradually began to slow. His thoughts then flipped to Pumpkin. He hadn’t seen her come up the stairs. In fact, the last he saw her she’d been talking to Sweetie Belle, Princess Sparkle, and that odd Trixie mare. He briefly wondered if the unicorns had some sort of unspoken, arcane bond in their horns that forced them to conglomerate with the rest of their ilk.

Pound shook his head and thought harder as he pushed the door open. Who could it have been? A little lost foal? Some party guest who’d drank too much? Regardless of speculation, he was about to find out.

Pound stepped into the room, eyes peeled and guard up, but saw nothing. The whole room was as he’d left it, nary a hide or hair was out of place. Even the piles of books, work aprons and assorted junk scattered about like landmines seemed absolutely untouched, which begged the question: just who was in here and why?

Keeping the question at the very forefront of his mind, Pound ventured deeper into his room, his eyes open and his ears piqued for the slightest of sounds and the most miniscule of movements. He swept his gaze from wall to wall, his bed to his closet and nightstand to dresser, but much to his disappointment, the room was deserted save for himself.

Pound sighed and rubbed his forehead. Perhaps he was just tired and imagining things. After all, it had been a long day working in the kitchen, maybe he was reading entirely too much into the situation. Maybe it was something as simple having forgotten to shut the door behind himself in his haste, Pumpkin accidentally tripping and bumping into the door—he snickered at the thought—, or even the wind. However, as he was steadily entertaining these thoughts and theories, a disembodied chuckle rolled through the vacant room.

“He he he…”

Needless to say, this put Pound right back on edge, causing him to frantically whip about in search of the source of the noise. “What the— who’s there?”

“Awww, Pound, now if I told you that, then this wouldn’t be much of a game, would it?”

It took Pound a moment to recognize the voice. “Aunt Pinkie?”

“Aww, phooey… lucky guess…”

“Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m… ‘hanging around’,” Pinkie Pie chuckled.

“You’re seriously starting to creep me out.”

“Creeping you out? Awww, I just wanted to play a little game with the cutest colt in Equestria…”

“You want to play a… game?” Pound asked, still scouring the recesses of his room for the plus-sized, fluorescent pink mare bearing a standard issue mile wide smile that he was just not seeing.

“Mmmhmmm, it’s one of your favorites too.”

Pound tilted his head in puzzlement. A favorite game of his? What was she driving at? Fortunately for Pound, he wouldn’t have to wonder for very long as Pinkie Pie elaborated.

“The rules are ♪~sim-ple~♪, you get three shotsie-wotsies, and if you can find and catch me within those, I’ll give you a nice surprise…”

A surprise too? Pound wondered.

“…but if you can’t, then I get to give you an even ‘nicer’ surprise ”

Pound took a moment to process Pinkie’s words. If he won, he’d get something, but if he lost he’d get something better. As usual, his aunt was speaking nonsensically. “What do you mean ‘a nicer’ surprise?”

“You have to play the game to find out, silly.”

Of course I do, he sighed, scratching the back of his head. Still, it wasn’t like he’d planned to do anything better with his evening. At best his plans possessed all the range of curling up with a dirty magazine and adding to the collection of strangely unbleachable stains on his bedsheets that he already had a hard enough time explaining to his mother on laundry day. Somehow, this seemed like a more productive use of his seemingly-worthless time. “All right, I’m in.”

“I knew you’d say yes, Cutie Cake. Now, are you ready? Wheeeere’s Pinkie Pie?”

Where's Pinkie Pie, huh? That is the question, isn't it? Pound glanced around his room, trying to think of the best possible hiding spots amidst the cluttered mess. Deciding to start with the most obvious place first, he started towards his bed, his aunt’s constant sidebar commentary assuring him that he was headed down the right track.

“You’re getting warmer...”

Hiding under the bed, auntie? he thought with a grin. You’ve made this too easy for me.

“Absolutely burning up..."

Pound couldn’t fight the feeling of giddiness he was deriving from this game, the corners of his mouth pulling up as he noticed something fluffy and pink poking out from beneath the covers of his bed. Confirmation. Kneeling down, he threw the sheets aside and proclaimed proudly, “Found you, auntie— huh?” To Pound’s confusion, he found not his aunt, but rather a pink feather duster—that looked uncannily like her tail— taped to a dry erase board sporting the message: ‘You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you, Cutie Cake? -Pinkie Pie♥’.

“Oooh, so close but so far… but you’re always welcome to try again,” Pinkie Pie teased from her ninja-esque hiding spot.

Scratching his head, Pound picked himself off the floor and began resurveying his room for decent hiding spots. Hmmm… I doubt she’s hiding in my dirty laundry… and there’s no way that she’d fit in my dresser drawers— eh, actually I don’t doubt that she could, especially not after that time we had to save her from drowning in the plumbing—

“Achoo!” Sneezed Pound’s ever enigmatic aunt, directing his attention towards the last place he’d expect her to hide only because it seemed so obvious: his closet. In fact if he closed his eyes and focused his ears hard enough he could even hear a faint rustling and giggling from behind the door. There was no mistaking it, she had to be in there. Dashing over, he threw the door open and found himself faced with small mountains of boxes, boardgames, aprons and notebooks, very unsubtle reminders that a cleaning day was more or less in order.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a slight shifting from the largest and farthest pile and pounced on it, immediately shredding the junkpile apart. Pound dug and dug into the mass of copious crap until he felt something sharp and hot cut his hoof.

“Agh! What the hell!?” Pound cautiously stepped back, holding his hoof while keeping his eyes trained on the pile. A moment later he saw something small, green and scaly wiggle and waggle its way into the light, revealing itself to be none other than Sugarcube Corner’s resident one-toothed alligator: Gummy.

“Huh, what were you doing in my closet?” Pound reached down and scooped up the tiny reptilian and nearly jumped out of his skin when Pinkie Pie channeled her voice through her alligator conduit. “He he, and that’s strike two, Pound!”

Absolutely terrified, Pound found himself debating on whether or not to hurl the Pinkie-Pie-possessed-pet into the hallway when he noticed several layers of tape wrapped around Gummy’s belly. Flipping the tiny snapping alligator around, his face scrunched up in frustration as he found the source of his aunt’s seemingly spectral speech. “A... a walkie talkie!?” Truly, she had taken this little game to the next level.

“One more guess, Cutie Cake,” Pinkie’s voice crackled through the radio. “You’d better make it count. Or is auntie’s hiding spot just going ‘over your head’? You know what Twilight says: you’ve got to start applying some ‘higher thinking’.”

Setting Gummy on the floor, where he waddled back into the cramped closet, Pound was completely and utterly stumped as to where his aunt could have been. He’d checked under his bed and in his closet, and unless Pinkie Pie had shrunken to the size of a parasprite, there was no way in hay she was underneath any of the random articles on his floor. Still, he’d checked behind the door, wall to wall and floor to…

‘—over your head?’

‘—higher thinking.’

“…ceiling.” As it finally dawned on him, he slowly turned his gaze to the ceiling of his room and sure as day there, in all her breathtakingly eccentric glory, was none other than Pinkie Pie, suspended from the ceiling by a harness and a series of complicated ropes and knots that resembled the web of an especially massive spider. Even odder than the harness was the outfit she wore, if it could be called as such. Reminiscent of a Hearth’s Warming present, the voluptuous and full curves that he’d come to love gazing upon had been hidden away by a ribbon bound box that encompassed the entirety of her plump and perfect frame, save for her legs, tail, and head.

Pound opened his mouth to remark upon the absurdity of the situation, but before he could utter a single word, Pinkie Pie pulled a small cord on her harness and began plummeting downwards faster than the awestruck colt could blink, shouting: “Here I am!” as she went.

Pound could only watch on in slow motion as the mareborne missile crashed into him, causing his vision to explode in an ocean of stars in addition to sprawling him on his back. Groaning and rubbing his head, he sat up slowly only to find himself crushed beneath his aunt’s ridiculous costume and her ten-ton smile. Admittedly, he’d always wanted to feel her robust frame straddling his slender hips, but this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “Ugh… so, this means that I win, right?”

“Mmm…. nope.”

“Nope?”

“Yup. Nope.”

“What do you mean ‘nope’?”

“I mean you didn’t win.”

“But I found you fair and square!”

“You might’ve found me, Cutie Cake, but I caught you, and if you remember, I said you had find and catch me in order to win.”

“But— I mean— you never even said anything about catching me!”

“But I also didn’t never not say nothing about me catching you either.”

“I—” Pound had to take a moment to let the double negatives process before he saw his aunt’s fallaciously driven point. Upon realizing that any further arguing would merely be grasping at straws he promptly shut his trap, his features deflating in a salty, flat look.

“Aww, come on, Cutie Cake, don’t you want to know what you won for losing?”

Pound’s ears perked up at that, his tense expression softening as he recalled his aunt mentioning something about awarding him a better surprise if he lost their little game. “Uh, sure, I guess— wait, this isn’t another trick, is it?” Considering the nature of his loss, Pound was still rather suspicious of his aunt.

“Nah,” Pinkie Pie waved the colt’s concerns away with a hoof. “More of a treat than a trick. Now...” She took Pound’s hoof and guided it towards one of the larger bows on her ensemble. “Why don’t you see what you’ve won?”

Pound met his aunt’s eagerly grinning face with a nervous glance before finding it within himself to grip the ribbon tightly. Pound gave a dry swallow and tugged down, his mind swimming with thoughts of what lay beneath the packaging as he pulled down on the ribbon. As it fell away, a geyser of confetti and light erupted from the box, blinding him, forcing him to turn away and shield his eyes.

A moment later when the ticker tape typhoon subsided and the intense luminosity had died down, Pound opened his eyes and blinked his bleary world back into existence only to find himself baffled by a drastic shift in his surroundings. Gone was the familiar disarray of his room, the numerous piles of junk and neglect having been replaced with actual flooring and some semblance of order. The decorum of magazine posters and teen angst had been replaced by pastel paintings of pastries and candy themed furniture, with a healthy dose of balloons and streamers sprinkled about. However, the most eye catching change wasn’t one that he’d find in the pink and pastry overtones of his environment, but rather on his person; straddling his thighs to be exact.

Sitting on his legs was none other than Pinkie Pie, sans the outlandish gift-wrapped outfit she’d been sporting earlier. In its place, blue and yellow striped stockings dug into the fat of her voluptuous thighs while a small frilly apron—that Pound was almost certain belonged to his sister— pinched at the pudge of the buxom beauty’s belly. Pound felt his mouth work uselessly, words failing him as he took in the older mare’s suggestive ensemble.

“You ready to get started?” Pinkie Pie asked, snapping the colt from his stupefied state as she ran a hoof down his chest.

“I… I… what?”

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes, shook her head and giggled. “Your surprise, silly. I was planning on making you a special dessert.”

“Oh, so we’re going to do some baking then?” Pound asked as he tried to sit up. The word ‘tried’ here implying a lack of success as he’d been so shocked by the circumstances that he hadn’t noticed his forehooves and hindlegs had been tied off to each of his aunt’s bedposts by some remarkably strong licorice ropes. What the—

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Pinkie Pie interrupted the colt’s thoughts. “Your parents did the all the ‘baking’ a good while ago, so all I have to do is...” Pinkie Pie clapped her hooves together, and a small cart full of icing and whipped-cream canisters slowly rolled to the bed, unassisted, from seemingly nowhere. “...decorate,” she finished with a scheming grin.

Pound looked at the cart and briefly wondered if his aunt had enslaved a poltergeist—admittedly he wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest if she had— before turning his attention back to the magenta mare herself. Having grown up with his aunt’s eccentricity lurking figuratively, and literally, around every corner Pound was more than accustomed to his aunt’s random and volatile nature— in fact it was one of the things he truly admired about her.

That said, while the colt was used to walking away from an encounter with Pinkie Pie absolutely dazed, confused and, on occasion, a few I.Q. points shorter for his troubles, this predicament took the cake, no pun intended.

More than a few questions ran through the colt’s mind as he tried to wrap his mind around the puzzling predicament he found himself in. Why was he tied up? What was she talking about, decorate? And what dessert? He didn’t see anything on the cart that looked remotely like a bare pastry in need of a good frosting. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to wonder too much longer.

“Figured it out yet, Cutie-Cake?” Pinkie Pie asked her very confused nephew, who very much had not figured as his brain was still desperately trying to catch up to the circumstances life had delivered upon him. “You are the dessert.”

Pound looked at the puzzling mare sideways. “Auntie, what are you—”

“And auntie…” she interrupted, tilting his chin up before practically breathing the words “...just can’t wait to taste you,” upon his lips before greedily stealing them with her own.

Clarity at last.

Pound’s eyes went wide with disbelief at the suddenness of his aunt’s actions. For a moment, a surge of questions rushed through his shocked, hormone-addled mind. Was this really happening to him? Was it a coincidence that the taste on Pinkie Pie’s lips reminded him vaguely of strawberry ice cream? Why were her lips so damnedly soft and addictive like marshmallows? And more importantly was that… was that her tongue sliding into his mouth?

The colt closed his eyes and gave a moan of content as the flavors and textures of Pinkie’s tongue slid across his own, gracing his taste buds in a way that no pastry had ever been able to. He could feel himself growing tense as Pinkie Pie allowed her hooves to glide across his tender neck and belly, arousing muffled giggles from the colt’s mouth as she savored him.

Needing a breather from the intense lip-lock, Pinkie Pie pulled off her bondage bound beau whom she’d left panting, bewildered and wanting for more, smiling as she licked his residual saliva from her lips. “Yummy! Anyone ever told you that you taste like cinnamon, Pound?”

For his part, Pound was still trying to figure out if any of this was real or if being crushed by the box earlier had inflicted a traumatic head injury that was now causing him to experience a wild, if desirable, fever dream; The sensation of soft hooves stroking his chest and the warm weight of his aunt’s rump rubbing against his hips suggested otherwise.

“What’s the matter? Auntie got your tongue?” Pinkie Pie asked, gently caressing his cheek. She leaned in towards his ear and whispered, “I thought this was how you always wanted me.”

“Well… I…”

“It’s too late to be shy, Cutie Cake,” she said, now trailing the outline of his allegedly cinnamon-flavored lips. “I see the way that you look at me in the kitchen and I know you moan my name when you… you know.” Pinkie Pie cocked a knowing eyebrow at Pound, who immediately understood what she was driving at.

“You… you know about that?” Pound asked, a sense of shame circulating through his flesh with all the efficiency of his life’s blood.

“Let’s just say, I’ve got ears all over Ponyville, and by ears…” She reached behind herself and produced a small plastic box with a microphone and several buttons, “...I mean tape-recorders.”

“...hat! Oh, Celestia, Auntie, your pussy’s so fucking tight! Just like that, oh yeah, keep going… harder… harder... harder, faster, fuck, fuck—ngh! Agh… hah… hah… oh that felt amazing...”

By the time his recorded self had come down from the high of his self-induced climax, Pound’s complexion had escalated from its normal cream coloring to an intense, burning scarlet. Pinkie Pie only seemed to find her nephew’s flustered expression to be cute if nothing else. “He he, if just fantasizing about me makes you moan like that, imagine what the real thing must feel like… but you don’t have to just imagine you kn—”

A rather loud crackling sound from the tape recorder interrupted the older mare mid-seduction, before playing another segment of the tape that neither party could have possibly expected. “...I dunno, Ms. Cheerilee, I think I might need a block of ‘special instruction’. I only made a 97% on my introspective view of the dormant G-Virus essay.”

“Tut, tut, tut, whatever are we going to do with you, Twilight? Your grades have just been slipping this semester.”

“Mmm… I think you might need to teach me some 'discipline', I’ve been a baaad student.”

“Don’t worry, my little pony, Madame Cheerilee knows how to deal with naughty fillies like you...”

*Snap-Crack!*

“Kyaaa! Cheerilee! Not so hard with the riding crop! And Snails, it’s not time for you to come out yet, so get back in the closet—”

Pinkie Pie exchanged a bemused glance with her nephew as she clicked the tape recorder off and tossed it to the side. “Gotta remember to stop recording everything on the same tape…” she huffed under her breath. “Now, where were we?” Pinkie asked, turning back to her helpless soon-to-be plaything. To her delight, she found that Pound’s penis had decided to join in the fun, gradually unsheathing itself as it grew longer and thicker.

“Oh my, what’s this, Pound?” Pinkie asked, running a hoof along the underside of the blushing colt’s slowly engorging member. “Did that recording get you a little excited?”

It had, though it didn’t exactly help that he’d been trying—in vain, quite frankly— to stave off his arousal since this whole scenario had begun to play itself out.

“Want Auntie to take care of it?” she asked, gently teasing the tip of his cock with her hoof.

He did.

“All you have to do is ask me to taste you like the delicious little cutie cake you are.”

Pound swallowed. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he wanted this more than anything in the world and admittedly this whole situation could have very well been a page plucked right out of his fantasies of the older mare. Despite his nerves and the fact that this would be his first time being with a mare, Pound couldn’t simply couldn’t bring himself to refuse an opportunity like this, so it came as no surprise to the colt when his mouth, as if on autopilot, sputtered out the words, “Auntie, p-please, taste and savor me like the delicious little cutie-cake I am.”

“Good boy,” Pinkie Pie praised, leaning forward and rewarding her nephew’s obedient lips with a kiss. “Now, just relax and leave it all to your Auntie Pinkie Pie.”

Pound nodded nervously and heaved his held breath, trying to relax, but how could he? Afterall, he was about to experience—dare he to believe it— sex for the first time in his life, with the mare he’d fantasized about on countless occasions.

With bedroom eyes and a sultry grin, Pinkie Pie sat up, grabbed her inexperienced lover’s dick firmly and leaned forward, mouth opening slowly as she drew nearer. Pound shuddered with delight as he felt her moist, warm breath nipping his sensitive penile flesh. The colt pulled his restraints tight in anticipation as her lips drew dangerously close to him, his mind racing even faster than before as he tried to imagine and comprehend what mind-bogglingly wondrous sensations she would draw out of his virgin flesh.

Almost… just a little closer, and… and then…

“Oh, wait.” Pinkie Pie pulled away and sat up.

Huh? She’s stopping? But… but why?

“Silly, me.” Pinkie Pie playfully bopped herself in the head. “A cake’s not a cake without the ♪~frost-ing~♪,” she sang, securing a container of frosting from the cart. She popped off the lid and without a second thought dunked her hoof right into the thick of the icing, scooping out a hearty glob of the white confectionary goo. She presented the glob on her hoof to Pound with a catty grin and faster than the colt could react, began eagerly spreading it all over his dick.

Pound moaned as the older mare worked diligently and professionally to even and smooth out the frosting layer, making it conform perfectly to the shape of his penis. It felt like she was rubbing lotion all over his cock, only stickier and it wasn’t being absorbed, but oh Celestia, did the boy love the feel of his aunt’s hooves cradling and caressing his junk. When she finished sculpting—far too quickly in Pound’s opinion— she backed away, admiring her work. “Now that’s a proper dessert.” She licked her lips, readying herself to dig in, but something occurred to her upon meeting the lewd, flushed expression on her nephew’s face. “Hmm… have you eaten today, Cutie Cake?”

It hadn’t occurred to Pound until just now, but he was absolutely famished having worked the entire day without taking a single meal break. A faint gurgle from his belly said everything his mouth needn’t.

“Aww, that’s no good. Can’t have my favoritest colt in the whole wide world go an entire day with an empty tummy-wummy.” She rubbed his belly before continuing. “But don’t worry, Auntie’s got a special treat, just for you.” Pinkie Pie stood, turned around and lifted her tail, presenting herself to Pound whose eyes went wide at the sight of Pinkie Pie’s bare plot and hindquarters. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and seize the pink moon that often illuminated the skies of his nighttime fantasies, but the licorice that held his limbs still wouldn’t allow it.

He watched as she scooped up another dollop of white icing onto her hoof before bringing it between her legs. Something between a giggle and squeak escaped Pinkie Pie’s mouth as she brought the vanilla cream to her snatch and began to rub it on herself. She’d started out just fine at first, working to even out the icing on her mound despite not being able to see what she was doing, but Pound noticed that after a certain point, she’d begun focusing all of her strokes on single spot and those little squeaks had grown in volume, becoming every manner of lewd panting and mewling that Pound could possibly imagine the mare producing.

That was when it hit him: she’d finished ‘decorating’ herself a while ago, now she was just pleasuring herself, her nephew all but forgotten—or perhaps at the very forefront of her mind, edging her on. Either way, Pound didn’t care. He was too busy being mesmerised by the display before him. It was like viewing high art, watching his aunt masturbate. The expertly practiced hoof strokes on her pallete, beads of sweat forming on and rolling down her quivering thighs until the stockings absorbed them, glimpses of her lewd bushing face, and a constant stream of utterances to the effect of “I’m doing something like this, and he’s watching me so intently…”.

She was truly the portrait of magnificence in the moments that led her to a self-induced climax, which rendered her a huffing, heaving mess collapsed on Pound’s belly. “O-Oops, looks like I got a little carried away,” she panted, turning to look over her shoulder. “You, *huff*, ready for your treat? Open wide...” Pinkie Pie backed her rump up into Pound’s face, smothering the colt’s muzzle with her plot. “Don’t be shy, Cutie Cake.” She made it a point to wiggle her rotund rump against his snout before continuing. “Eat up, auntie made it special just for you.”

Pound nervously savored the scene before himself. His aunt’s pussy was quite a thing to behold, vastly more beautiful in person than he’d ever imagined it being in any of his previous spank sessions. Pound took a whiff of her scent, a sugary sweet musk that was as lewd as it was enticing; he could feel his mouth beginning to water as he indulged on her aroma.

He had to taste her.

Pound let his tongue loose in an experimental lick along Pinkie’s slit, earning another giggle-squeak from his aunt as he tasted her vanilla scented snatch. He went in again, deeper this time, his tongue penetrating her frosted folds, treating his tastebuds to something far slicker tangier than the frosting, but he loved it just the same. Pound went at it aggressively now, his tongue seeking out and sapping the flavor of his aunt’s insides while his lips kissed ravenously at her labia, pulling in the frosting to compliment her love nectars.

Pinkie Pie smiled as Pound feasted on her sex. The colt was really going to town on her, but that was to be expected considering how long he’d been dreaming of this very moment. Still, she was doing this for him afterall, she wouldn’t have felt right allowing Pound to do all the work. A glance down at the colt’s own throbbing, confection coated cock reminded her of her own appetites of the flesh. “Itadakimasu*.” Grabbing her nephew behind the thighs, she leaned down and engulfed his entire length in one smooth motion, effortlessly taking him into her throat without gagging— a skill acquired after many years and many partners worth of practice. Her opening move—a preview of things to come— complete, she pulled back and began working her tongue around Pound’s head and shaft with expert proficiency, dissolving and delighting upon the layer of frosting that coated his dick.

She could feel Pound’s reaction almost immediately, for in addition to his penis’ increased and erratic twitching in her mouth, his own assault on her pussy had lessened in tenacity. She found his body’s honesty to be rather adorable and continued working his dick, dwelling on the tip for a spell and savoring whatever residual vanilla and colt-cock flavor that remained, before swirling her tongue around his shaft using her grip on his thighs to keep him from bucking up into her mouth. Admittedly, she took a selfish moment here and there to focus on riding Pound’s face with her pussy.

The two worked in conjunction to bring eachother to the heights of debauchery. Pound having finally figured out what spots got the biggest reactions out of his aunt, while Pinkie Pie ate his cock like a hardshell candy with a creamy colt filling inside. She’d soon find that her nephew had no problem at all sharing the aforementioned filling. Pinkie Pie decided to switch gears and decided to take the whole thing into her mouth, an act that Pound’s nervous system simply hadn’t prepared him for. His aunt’s lips greedily urging him deeper as she released his legs—a mistake on her part— and proceeded to throatfuck her seemingy helpless nephew.

With nothing to hold him back anymore, Pound couldn’t help himself. He bucked his hips into his aunt’s mouth in time with the bobbing of her head, and it felt wonderful. The rush of her warm breath and saliva, the softness of her cheeks and tongue around his girth, and the rapidness of it all coming together into some great sensation that wasn’t quite a tickle but was somehow painful without hurting. He just couldn’t take it anymore and erupted into Pinkie Pie’s mouth, a sense of relief rapidly replacing the wonderfully intense tenseness that was ejaculation.

The stream of ejaculate took Pinkie Pie by surprise, making her gag as it blasted the back of her throat, but a true soldier through and through, she managed to smile on and swallow it down spurt after spurt. Upon swallowing the last of his load, Pinkie Pie sat up and wiped her mouth of any residual semen. “Mmm, salty,” she remarked, turning to catch a glance at Pound.

Pinkie smiled at her nephew’s stupidly blissful expression and was prepared when something warm, thick and familiar poked her in the belly. Curious, she looked down only to find herself face to face with Pound’s surprisingly still stone-sturdy schlong. “Oh, wow, it’s still hard…” she marveled, poking the rigid thing with a hoof. A devious smile crossed her lips. “So, did you enjoy auntie’s treat, Cutie Cake?”

“Uh-huh...” Pound replied dazily, spent from his passing climax.

“That’s good, but I hope you didn’t fill up on foreplay, Cutie Cake…” Pinkie Pie stood up and gripped Pound’s cock firmly, standing it upright.

“Huh?” Pound lazily grunted in response to his aunt’s actions.

“...because auntie’s getting ready to serve up the main course.” She hovered her moist pussy lips over the rigid rod and started slowly lowering herself upon it.

“W-Wait, Auntie, I just came, it’s still sensitive!”

“Don’t worry, that just means that it’ll feel twice as good while we’re doing it, now—ngh— get r-ready, it’s going in!”

It was all that Pound could do to bite his lip and surrender to the welcoming kiss of his aunt’s insides on his tip. She hadn’t even taken him in a single inch yet, but the difference between her mouth and pussy was already like night and day; tighter, hotter and much wetter—though he could proudly attribute that factor to his earlier acts of cunnilingus.

Pinkie Pie leaned forward and gripped at her cookie themed bed-sheets, using them as leverage to ease herself down. “Oooh… such a thick thing you’ve got here, Pound. I wonder if I’ll be able to fit the whole thing…” Pound winced as his aunt took his first inch with a light huff, her soft, perfect insides squeezing and suckling on his head as though it were a lollipop. He could hear his aunt giggle as she slid another inch into herself, slowly and deliberately, looking over shoulder to admire the effeminate expressions on her lover’s face; it only made her want to tease him harder. She wiggled her rump, allowing her natural lubricants to freely cascade down his shaft, making her descent easier and more bearable by far.

She loved the feeling of his big cock filling up her tight pussy and wasn’t afraid to be vocal about the affair, uttering the occasional obscenity between moans. Both breathed a sigh of relief as Pinkie Pie’s descent finally came to a halt, having taken in as much cock as she could. Rubbing her thoroughly stuffed belly, she could feel Pound twitching uncontrollably inside of her, his doubly sensitive penis trying to find a way to cope with this newfound stimulation.

“How’s the view back there, Cutie Cake?” she asked.

Pound unclenched his eyes and gazed upon his aunt’s marvelously thick backside, his attention squarely on the sexual union of his cock parting and penetrating his aunt’s plump pussy lips; it almost looked like her lower mouth was trying to devour him in the best possible way. “It’s wonderful, auntie,” he said. “So fucking wonderful.”

Pinkie Pie beamed warmly. “Well, hold on to your horse shoes, it’s about to get a whole lot better.” Slowly, she rose her hips at a controlled rate, savoring the way Pound’s length scraped along her pulsing insides, before urging herself back down just as slowly. Again and again she rose and fell in this torturously slow paced ebb-and-flow that demanded all of her self-control to maintain, but it was worth it to hear her beloved Pound’s labored breaths and pleasured moans. She closed her eyes to keep her focus, trying to imagine the depraved expressions he must’ve been wearing as his whimpers graced her ears.

“Oh, fuck, auntie, it feels too good,” he whined, encouraging Pinkie Pie to pick up the pace slightly in her efforts to rock his world. She put a little wiggle in her hips as she rode, helping Pound to scrape deeper inside of her. Every pass, she would go a little faster, building up a light sweat, taking care to control her breathing and movements so as to keep a constant meaty smack resonating between her ass and his waist. The little huffs and puffs she’d been vocalizing up until now, became a stream of erotic purrs and praises to Luna but it simply wasn’t enough; she needed more than this to get off.

With remarkable swiftness, Pinkie Pie stood, turned around, and remounted Pound, reverse missionary this time so that she could better admire him as she proceeded to fuck his brains out. Pound gazed into his aunt’s half lidded eyes as she rode his dick like a wave on the ocean, the sight of the older mare’s face caught somewhere betwixt debauched and focused was arguably the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life and he’d sat and marathon-wanked his way through the entire nine hours of the Fetish Fillies: Naughty Nightshift Nurses video box set; real mares truly did it better.

Pinkie Pie planted her hooves on the colt’s chest, using him for balance as she worked his shaft, getting lost in the pleasures of her own body. She leaned forward and took his lips with a rather voracious kiss, expertly maneuvering her tongue into his mouth without breaking the rhythm of her humping.

Much as he loved Pinkie’s selfish ravagement of his body, it simply wasn’t enough to satisfy Pound; he needed more of her. He needed to hold and grope her voluptuous curves, to stroke those stockings now damp with her sweat, to have some semblance of control in this affair, but that damned licorice rope…

Snap!

Through sheer force of will, Pound managed to pull his restraints apart, the candied ropes dangling helplessly along their respective bedposts. Pound didn’t waste a moment of his newfound freedom as he seized his aunt around her waist and back, simultaneously taking her by surprise and off balance as he took control. From his bottom position he rapidly bucked into her with a hound-like fervor, his focus squarely on making up for lost indulgence.

“♥~Ahn~♥Wh-Where’d this come from, ♥~ooh~♥Cu-Cutie Cake?” Pinkie Pie cooed as Pound seized her ass and plunged his cock deep inside her. Pound was far too driven in his hedonistic pursuits to give anything in the vein of a response, so he continued pounding away, feasting his ears on the vocal variety of his aunt’s erotic whines, which only seemed to be growing higher in pitch with each thrust. “J-Just an insatiable little thing aren’t you? Mmmf! K-Keep this up and you’re gonna make me… you’ll… ngh... ♥~Kyya~♥!”

Pound could feel his aunt tense up and her pussy clamp down even tighter around him as she came, drizzling her love juices all over his cock and balls before collapsing and convulsing on top of her underage lover, giggling and mewling incoherent praises to the ecstasy flowing through her body. A sense of accomplishment fell over the colt as he realized that he’d just brought his aunt to climax, her warm, soft and shuddering form collapsed on top of him more than enough reward for his efforts. Though despite how much he loved this he still wasn’t satisfied; he needed to get off too.

“Waah!” Pinkie Pie cried as her nephew flipped her over and mounted her missionary style. “Still full of energy, huh, Cutie Cake?” she asked as Pound lined his tip up with the entrance of her still spasming slit.

“What can I say, auntie? I’ve got a sweet tooth and the only thing that can satisfy it is a nice slice of ‘Pinkie Pie’.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin creeping onto her lips. “Pfft, come on, that pun was totally half-baked.”

“Who cares? It’s my turn to do the tasting anyway.” With that, he pushed in, his aunt’s insides welcoming him back as they wrapped and coiled around his length. She’d loosened up enough that his first thrust went all the way to the hilt, but he didn’t let up. He eagerly rained a series of enthusiastic thrust deep into her, clenching his jaw to deal with the rush of sensations flowing through his member as it rubbed against her internal walls. He’d been able to feel his climax building up within him , but from this position he could feel it with so much more clarity, a deep pressure, so close, just begging for release.

“♥~Mmmf~♥ W-what’s with that face, Cutie Cake?”

“I’m so close,” Pound panted between thrusts. “Oh, Luna, I don’t think I can hold it back much longer!”

Pinkie Pie grabbed her nephew by the cheek, looking him in the eyes as she said, “Go ahead and do it, Cutie Cake.”

“In...inside?”

“Mmmhmm.” Pinkie nodded, locking her legs around Pound’s waist, making it official that it was okay for him to make her his mare.

“Ngh... get ready, auntie… here comes the cream filling*!” With a thunderous grunt, Pound came, emptying a torrent of his white-hot semen deep within Pinkie Pie’s thirsty pussy, and it felt incredible, moreso—by leaps and bounds— than her mouth. Spurt after spurt of his ejaculate erupted forth, coating her walls and stuffing her womb with his seed. With serotonin and exhaustion rapidly replacing the adrenaline rush, Pound managed a very spent “Oh… fuck…” before collapsing on top of his aunt, a dopey, triumphant grin painted on his lips. As his softening dick fell out of Pinkie’s sex, she could feel the warm trickle of excess cum streaming down her rump.

“Wow, you really came a lot, Cutie Cake.”

“S...sorry, auntie,” Pound lazily apologized, more focused on nuzzling into her wonderously soft bosom, indulging himself on the intoxicating scent of her sweat slickened coat as though every whiff he’d te of her would be his last.

“It’s all right.” PInkie Pie stroked her spent lover’s mane before asking. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Mmhmm.” Pound sleepily replied as his eyelids grew heavy

“Good.” Pinkie Pie leaned forward and planted an affectionate kiss on her lightly dozing sweetheart’s forehead before continuing. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself…” she paused to trace the curvatures of his lightly dozing face, “...because it’s time to wake up.”

“Huh?”

“I said: it’s time to wake up, Pound.”

Curious and confused at his aunt’s words, Pound opened his eyes and was taken aback to find himself back in the familiar mess of his own room, more specifically on his bed, a small puddle of drool accumulated where his head had been rested. Aside from Gummy tumbling down a laundry pile into a stack of books, nothing seemed out of place which was as much of a relief as it was a thorough disappointment.

“Just a dream, huh?” He chuckled sardonically at himself. He hated dreams like that. The kind that were so realistically wonderful and vivid that they could only be dreams. But it felt so real… was that really just a dream?

With a sigh, Pound turned over in his bed and nuzzled up to the pony-sized pink body pillow laying there. It was so soft, warm and comforting that he practically melted into its sweet scented embrace, though for the life of him, he just couldn’t remember having ever snuggled up to it before this moment. Where this wonderful thing even came from, he couldn’t recall, but it felt so familiar and that giggling—

Wait. Giggling?

Pound glanced up and found himself gazing into the beaming face of his aunt. “Enjoy your nap, Cutie Cake?” she asked.

The gears of the colt’s mind grinded to a screeching halt. “But… but… wait… you… I mean I—”

“—just need to relax. You took a nasty blow to the noggin trying to catch me earlier, y’know. I mean, sure, I guess it was my fault for y’know, falling on you from your ceiling wearing that giant present outfit, but details-schmetails, right?”

Wait, that wasn’t a dream? he thought.

“Nope,” Pinkie replied, causing the colt to wonder briefly if she’d read his mind in that instant. “You were wide awake until I put that shiner on your cute little face,” she said as she lightly tapped the colt on the swollen bump on his forehead, causing him to wince. “But don’t you worry about a thing, auntie’s going to take real good care of you, Cutie Cake.”

“Ah, that’s all right, auntie,” Pound said as he started to sit up. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a little bump, afterall—”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Pinkie Pie urged him back down to a lie. “It’s so bad that I’d say it calls for lots of bedrest and…” Pinkie Pie whipped a sheet up from the bed, effectively obscuring herself from Pound’s view. When the bedding settled, Pound found himself both shocked and privileged to find his aunt adorned in a rather and purposely ill-sized nurse’s outfit, complete with thigh high stockings and high-heels. “...intensive physical therapy with nurse Pinkie Pie,” she finished, trailing a hoof down her ‘patient’s’ chest and belly. “Now is the patient ready for treatment?”

Like you wouldn’t believe…

The End.

Shorter than the rest but hopefully just as sweet; the recipe still called for two parts love and one part sleep deprivation. And yet if you’re a connoisseur with more demanding tastes, Chef Antagonist humbly presents a menu full of carnal debauchery to hopefully sate your palate. Bon Appétit, mon ami.

A. Twincest is wincest.

B.There’s always room for one more (Ménage à trois)

C.True Passion Lies At The Bottom of a Shot Glass

*Itadakimasu- The writer is such an anime geek that he threw this one in here. The word is Japanese. It means: ‘I humbly receive’, and is usually said before a meal.
*Creamfilling-When Antagonist opened the vault, all the fucks his master had left to him were gone. Reaching into his pocket, he found one singular fuck, his only fuck in the world if you would, but he just wasn’t willing to give it up. He just couldn’t give that last fuck.

Author's Note

Inspired by these truly profound words, spoken by one of the grandest men to ever grace the small screen.