Preggity

by Sanguinius

Rating: mature
Tags: Human, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Sad, Other, Romance, Comedy, Rarity, Slice of Life, Sex
Length: 113011

The story of Rarity, a PoV Guy John Everyman, and their budding marriage and child raising.

A decade after the show, Rarity finds and marries you. This is the story of her pregnancy, and your working out the stress and worries of a future family. It's shameless fetish fuel, it's high-end romance, it's PoV Guy stuff, and it's lengthy and wordy.

Published 2012-01-28 22:56:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-31 12:28:13 UTC

Chapter 2

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*Part 2: Pregnant Rarity, Foodplay, Stuffing, Prehensile Tail*

You're awoken by something soft and fuzzy brushing against your foot. Groggily, you look across the dark room where the red lights of your alarm clock reach out at you. From its perch on your nightstand it informs you quietly that the time is 3:16 in the morning. It's not due to go off today - Saturday being your day of rest - and it slumbers silently, blinking out the time changes: 3:17, 3:18, 3:19. Something brushes against your foot again. You roll over onto your side, expecting to see her indigo mane framing her sleeping figure or perhaps her leg kicking in her sleep. Instead you're greeted with the dark outline of her tail.

You sit up, pulling aside the blankets. She's curled up under them, facing the opposite way as you. You can't see her face in the dark room, but now that the blankets are aside you can hear a soft sniffle. Her body twitches every now and then, shaking a little bit with each new sniffle. Wondering what's on her mind you lean down, her little sobs getting louder as you approach and move across the soft expanse of your shared mattress. Your eyes adjust slowly to being awake and you can see her just as she sees you, your tugging aside of the sheets alerting her to your intentions.
She covers her face with her pale hooves.

“D-don't. Don't look. Just... please go back to bed. It's nothing.”
You shift your weight, arm draping over her side, mindful of the bulge of her pregnant stomach as you work yourself into a comfortable position parallel to her curled form. You try to get a look into her eyes despite her protests, trying to figure out the source of her tears. Your hand runs a course gently up her stomach - tight and swollen at the very apex - but turning soft and squishy as it makes for her body. As your hand lingers, you feel a subtle gurgle in her stomach, eliciting more whimpering and sobbing from her. This again? You shift yourself, arms wrapping around her, pulling her small, swollen frame in close to yours. She gives up hiding the source of her sadness from you, burying her face in your arms, little muzzle twitching with each sniffle as you stroke her hair and rub her tummy. You look down, her face now buried in her hair and your chest. It's gotten better, but the whole thing is painful for her.

It's seven months earlier. She's just found out she's expecting, and after the initial surprise and happiness pass, you've both spent days discussing how things will change. She seems happy on the outside, but as the days pass and you return home from work late, her greetings are less energetic. She's been getting thinner, her hugs haven't lasted as long. You begin to monitor food around the house before you leave for work, and discover she's been skipping meals. You decide to sit her down with one of her friends, knowing you'll be no good at this sort of thing. The confrontation is expected, and explosive. In the end, she agrees with Twilight Sparkle that something has to change; but the end result is yours to oversee. Twilight puts you in charge of making sure she bulks up, putting emphasis on how important it is for a developing filly to have extra calories to draw upon.

The first of your nightly sessions doesn't go well at first. Your large prepared meal is welcomed, but she fills up quickly, stomach not used to such large portions. Still, when she's eaten as much as she can, you scoop her up from the table unexpectedly.

“W-wah? Careful, darling! You'll drop us both! Put me down, down I say!”
You shift her struggling form in your arms, carrying her away from the table and over to the couch nestled in the corner.

“Oh this is most improper! Please, set me down! Set me down! Set me down!”
Her cries of alarm have shifted to half giggling at this point, and her tail rubs up against your cheek playfully.

“Honestly, it's no better than kidnapping at this point! Set me down at once!”
Gently, you turn the both of you around, sitting on the couch and lowering her into your lap, arms none too pleased by the effort of doing so in the controlled and careful manner that you chose to use. Once there, she almost immediately shifts her body, snuggling her head into your lap and rolling onto her side. You rub her swollen stomach with one hand, scratching behind her ears with your other. Her front legs kick slightly as she happily nuzzles into your slowly stiffening crotch.

“Well my goodness what do we have here? Did you get all of this from just rubbing this little old tummy of mine? I had no idea your tastes were so...” She struggles for a moment with a word befitting a lady. “Rubenesque.” Your hand ceases playing with her ear, and she playfully whimpers as she shifts her body up your lap a little bit to place her head back up against it. Closer now, the hand that was playing across her swollen stomach begins to stroke her flanks, muscular and shapely. You remain this way for several minutes, until she sighs, craning her neck up, bringing her face level to yours and looking playfully out the corner of her eye at you.

“I know what you want.”
Her horn glows. In the kitchen one of the cabinets opens and a bag of marshmallows floats across the apartment to you as she rolls onto her back. Settling itself on her stomach, it opens before the glow of her magic fades. She lays her head back down on your lap and closes her eyes, opening her mouth.

You pop in the first marshmallow and she chews happily. By the end of the bag, the chewing has slowed and she's obviously struggling to keep a smile on her face.
“Is this good? I certainly hope so... Not every man is lucky enough to have a lady cater to his fantasies, you know.” You smile and nod, hands rubbing a tight enough to burst bulge in her tummy. Her hoof reaches behind her, rubbing your own bulge through your jeans. “I might have room for one more thing, you know... Maybe. If you can promise to keep this our little secret... If you can promise that we'll do it again.”

Time has made fools of you both, and you're back in the present, months later. As work picked up, you've had less time to indulge her, but still, you've had your share of long nights on the couch as she slowly gets better at keeping the marshmallows down. Now, at the height of her pregnancy, her embarrassment seems to have flooded back to her. You've rolled over in the night to find her missing on more than one occasion, cravings getting the better of her. Each time you've wandered into the kitchen, snuggling up against her warm back, trying your best to be supportive as she indulges in her private shame. Even your encouragement hasn't been enough to undo the lifetime of careful maintenance she's put into her figure. You scoop her up in your arms, carrying her out of the bedroom and into the hall.

“W-what? No. Please no. I'm so tired of it... I don't want to be like... like this anymore. I know it's all for my health. For the baby's health. But I know you've been looking at me less, too.”
You stop in your tracks, baffled by this last bit. Could she really think that? Haven't you communicated otherwise? Sure, you're not good with words, but when has that stopped her from figuring out your intentions in the past?

You look down at her, curled in your quickly tiring arms. From her reclining position, she stares up at you in the dark, her azure eyes watery and reddened from a night of sniffling and crying at your feet.

“Well? It's TRUE isn't it? I'm an... an old, ugly, fat... I'm just so...”
She bursts into tears again. This isn't going well. Carefully you maneuver around the dark kitchen, arms too full of whimpering chubby pony to flick on a light switch.

“This isn't what you wanted, I know. This isn't the taut tummied pony you fell in love with!” Her hair catches the door handle of the refrigerator, halting your progress as she stubbornly looks up at you for an answer, unwilling to let you move further without some affirmation of her secret fears.

Your mind races for the right answer. Surely she was beautiful when you met: tight, muscular, lean. But since then you've seen entirely different sides of her, sides that have nothing to do with body or shape. You've cursed your original shallow expectations, and together you've even learned just how much you love the way her more well figured body jiggles as she walks, the way her saddles fit so tightly around her now thick flanks.

Your reply is sudden. You turn your body and hers with it, forcing her tail to open the door to the refrigerator. Light spills out into the room, assaulting your eyes as your arms and legs finally give out to the awkward load they're carrying, and you have to slowly move toward the kitchen floor. It's the work of only a few seconds, but it's surprisingly graceful. She's on her back, lowered as gently as you could before you met the ground next to her, pulling her in for a hard kiss. Cold assaults your back and you pull her closer, shielding her from the sudden frigid onslaught. Your hands work magically up and down her stomach, sliding closer to her womanhood, and she stifles an unexpected yelp as you begin to rub her down there. She breaks the kiss.
“I- What? Do you really? You like this? All of it?” You say nothing, too busy kissing the side of her neck. Instead you respond by delicately slipping a finger into her, causing her to stiffen in reply. “You...? You don't care either way. You really...” She rolls herself over onto your lap, mindful of the erection pressing to be freed from your boxers. The moment she's there, your hands are caressing her lovely stomach, paunched out. She looks over into the refrigerator, still open, and guides your throbbing member out of your boxers with one hoof as she lifts herself up with the other. Carefully, she slides down on top of it, freed hoof reaching into the fridge at her side and withdrawing a slice of cake you saved for her from a birthday party at work. Silently, you file away a reminder to thank the kindly old receptionist who sent you home with it as she holds the plate up, face framed from the side by the light of the icebox. “Is this what you like? Hmmmm? Mmmmm.”
Her stomach gurgles again as she tries to tease you, and she looks away, embarrassed. Gently, you try to sit up without pulling out of her, gripping her thick, soft flanks for aid as you smile at her. You're stopped by her bulging stomach, a few inches from the cake, but your effort makes her smile. She takes a hoof and carefully scoops the cake into her mouth, raising an eyebrow at you. You shift your weight in reply, shifting yourself into her as much as you can. She shudders a bit, and takes a hooffull of cake into her mouth.
Thrust.
Another hooffull. Chocolate icing dribbles down her cheek as her eyes roll backward in pleasure, her private fantasy being indulged in the dark of your little kitchen. It hangs from the side of her mouth for a moment before splashing down onto your chest.
Thrust.
Abandoning ladylike procedure, she opens her mouth and stuffs the remaining cake in.
You grip her chest as you thrust hard, bouncing her up and down on your hard cock as she struggles to swallow in between moans. More icing falls onto your body. She rolls off of you, desperate to get all of the icing from your skin.
Her hot tongue works its way up and down your chest and stomach, smearing the chocolate as you roll around on the floor trying to get to her womanhood. Each time you get close she shifts slightly - unaware of your intentions - too engrossed in the icing now coating your lower half as she licks it off. She finally makes her way to your erection, hungry mouth clamping down on it. Her mouth bobs up and down as she gulps and slurps at your rock hard dick. Finally getting her still enough, you part her moist lower lips, dipping your tongue in for a treat of your own.
Her gasp around your cock feels amazing, and she jerks her head off to avoid choking. You push your tongue in deeper, licking both folds of her labia before pushing your tongue into her and wriggling it around. She moans, her insides moistening even more in response.
“Nnnnn. Fingers dearie, come now. You’ve those lovely hands, use them more. You know I love it when you use them.”
Slowly, you slip two fingers in and out. Then three. Her hooves rub her stomach madly, sending tremors of jiggling flesh from her chest all the way down to her flanks.
“More.”
Working carefully you manage to get four fingers into her, and she throws her head back. You lean in, tongue working her clit, and her moans turn into screams of pleasure. She’s squeezing hooffulls of her chubby chest fat as her back legs kick wildly. Wetness trickles down your arm as she cums in waves that rock her body from top to bottom. You watch as she shakes, her chest and stomach wobbling and jiggling uncontrollably. As the orgasm continues to rock her, she pushes her flank toward you, and you grip tight. Your hands disappear in her immense, soft, pillowy cheeks. She continues writhing for another good ten seconds, before finally growing still and managing to squeeze out an exhausted sound.
“Sssssss...”
You grip her ass in reply.
“Spank me. Oh spank me. I’ve been... so naughty. I ate your cake.”
Your hand smacks her ample bottom hard, and her abundant flesh responds in rolling motions, jiggling madly. You swat her again as she wiggles her butt in the air, then again, and again. Each time she wriggles across the floor toward the cabinet. Once there, she pulls out a bag of marshmallows, another swat on her ivory expanse eliciting a yelp.
“Please no more, I’ll be good. I’ll do what you want. I’ll eat them!”
She looks at the bag, popping one into her mouth, her eyes half-lidded as she chews. She takes another hooffull of marshmallows into her mouth, lowering her nose, posterior still up in the air invitingly.
“I know it's unladylike to eat from the bag but I just-”
She can't finish before you're penetrating her, hard.
Her guilt assuaged, she lifts her flanks into the air for you, lowering her nose into the bag, popping marshmallows into her mouth two or three at a time. She's gulping them down as you slam into her, flanks jiggling and quivering like seas of flesh with each thrust. Her belly rubs up against the floor, her back legs kick and buckle, bringing her to her knees as you keep pounding. As she finishes off the bag, your thrusting slows down.
“Nnnnno! Keep going! Don’t stop! You FIEND!” She scrambles, bucking her hips back and forth to simulate thrusting, her front legs occupied with pushing aside the contents of the cabinet. She produces another bag and rips it open with her teeth, spitting out the plastic and continuing to put hoof-fulls of marshmallows into her mouth as you return to the furiously quick pace you were at. Your hand reaches around her thick leg and you begin to stroke her clit, producing a muffled choking noise. With a cough and a splutter she manages to gulp down the three marshmallows she had in her mouth, cheeks still puffed out like some sort of comic squirrel as she looks at you over her shoulder in the light.
“Not so suddenly darling, a girl mustn't be rushed!”
You smile at her, certainly taking her time, as she stuffs down four or five more marshmallows at once. Another empty bag to join the other two. This time you don't stop slamming into her, your rhythm picking up as you reach the end of your stamina. You feel her clench around you, her moans no longer muffled by the mouthfuls of sweets, her hooves kicking and bucking as she cums once more. In moments you're cumming too, flooding her with your hot seed. You lay there, panting and exhausted, when she slides off of your cock. She lays there on her back, white coat shining, face illuminated by the soft light of the still ajar refrigerator door. The light catches the white bits of marshmallow trickling down her face, and the white seed spilling out from between her legs. Her horn glows and another bag floats from the cabinet into your hands. The bag glows once more, ripping open.

You put a marshmallow in your mouth and lean into her, sharing it with her. Her bites are hungry, passionate, and when there's no marshmallow left she's sucking on your tongue for the flavors in your mouth, running her tongue all around your teeth. While she works your mouth, your hands are burying themselves in the expanse of her flesh. You lean back and put another one into your mouth, leaning back into her, free hand gripping the full bag. There’s plenty more left. There, in the darkness of your kitchen, softly illuminated, she lets herself go, happily pursuing that private indulgence in the hands of the man who reserves judgment, who loves her, who wants her to be happy.
She smiles up at you, playfully.
“Very well, prince charming. Shall we see if you can put the princess back to bed with a kiss?” You pop another marshmallow into your mouth and lean in.

Chapter 3

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*Part 3: Pregnant Rarity, Exhibitionism, Angry Sex, Prehensile Tail, Minor Foodplay, Debasement*

She's out in the sun for the first time in a long time.

After last night's workout, you've reached a critical low on groceries. As you put on your coat to go get food for breakfast, she trots up with a yawn, securing her saddle. You look down at her with a mixture of shock and intrigue. She hasn't left the house since she started showing. Her sensitivity about her weight and concerns over “ladylike fragility” had put and end to leaving the house. Lately, things have been improving for you two though. Several nights in a row of high spirits leading up to some hot steamy passion, and now this? Her confidence has grown in leaps and bounds. She follows you about the small apartment you share and nuzzles your hand playfully as you search for your keys. Her breath is warm against the back of your hand, and every now and then she giggles and nudges your rear with her horn. Finally, you extract your keys from the pocket of the jacket you set on the kitchen table earlier, and you're out the door into the brisk morning air.

The sun is shining on her white coat, and she hops around with a lively spring in her graceful stride. She's like some sort of young filly now, hopping around your legs, bumping against them with her muzzle, urging you to go more quickly. “Hurry darling! We need to keep a brisk pace. I want to get there right when they open! Just imagine that bread in the bakery – oh it will be simply divine!”
You smile and rub her head, right behind her ears where she likes it. She nuzzles her face into your side and you walk the remaining distance as the sun creeps up overhead.

Your watch says six thirty-two when you arrive at the grocery store, but they're just opening the doors as you get to them. A lone pony stands at the checkout stand, filing her hooves. You recognize her; she’s behind the checkout counter most days. Rarity practically skips down the nearest aisle out of your sight, basket dangling from her mouth. You pause long enough to wave to the checkout mare, and she tiredly waves back, older body obviously not ready for such early mornings anymore. Good deed done, you hurry down the rows, looking for the pony you entered with, having a strong suspicion she'll be in the sweets aisle. Along the way you pick up some much needed supplies in your own basket, assuming quietly that she hasn't.

Your suspicions are confirmed. After last night's debauchery, she's filled her basket to overflowing with bags of marshmallows, making you feel like some mother hen with your basket of practical groceries. You come upon her struggling to reach an upper shelf, where a lone packet of hot chocolate mix perches precariously, ready to fall on her head. Around her, horn aglow, levitate a few other packets, obviously having fallen during her initial pass.

“Oh just... nfff... little further... little more... Come now... There’s a good packet...”
You walk up calmly behind her, height playing to your advantage as you lift the packets over her head and back up to the shelf, none too gracefully pressing her up against it as you return them one by one to their proper place. Below your leaning body she calls out instructions, obviously distressed at the way you're managing the task.

“Careful now... yes... that's right. A little to the right. No! Left! Ohhh.”
With each instruction she squirms under you to get a better view, swollen tummy pressed against the racks, her widened hips and thick flanks rubbing against your pelvis. Memories of three hours prior flood back, and you begin to get hard as you try to get her orders precisely right. Her ears perk up; she feels you pressing into her now. Under you, she ceases her squirming, and cranes her neck upward.
“Are you-”
“Sir? Ma’am? You two need help?”
The checkout mare looks down the aisle at you from her register.
“N-no! No! We're fine, thank you dear!” she calls from under you.
She thrusts her head back up to you with an accusing glare.
“Are you aroused?” she hisses up at you.
You free up a hand to reach down and squeeze her flank in reply.
She snorts in frustration.
“Honestly, are you a beast? Is that all you think about? Is my body really so...” she wiggles her hips deeper into you, and her voices drops to a husky whisper, “irresistible?”
In reply you flex your trapped member as hard as you can, and blush floods her ivory face right up to the base of her horn.
“But here of all places? Come now, that's simply uncivilized. It's absolutely improper, and a lady of my stature simply will not engage in it in any way.”
You hook your hand down toward her basket, making it look like you're reaching for another of the fallen packets, and slowly trail your fingers up the inside of her leg, until your hand is under her saddle. You can feel the heat coming off of her. She's just as aroused, maybe more. Testing the water, you rub her lips with your finger and find them to be moist.
“I- what are you doing?” her hissed words are angry, but her voice has risen a little in pitch, unable to conceal the shock of pleasure.
“This is simply barbaric! Are you some sort of dog?”
Prepared with a playful response, you hump up against her still leaning figure, clenching a handful of thick soft flank with your now moistened hand. She feels her own wetness and sighs, trying to squirm away.
Her efforts dislodge the packets you carefully positioned up top once more. They and several other sweets tumble down, soda bottles bursting and fizzing all over both of you. She stands there, looking at you, and twitches slightly. More packets tumble down, and their contents burst into the air, coating her soda-soaked mane and coat, as well as your clothes, in the stuff. A sniffle escapes her, and she whimpers as things settle and the checkout mare hurries over to both of you.
“Are you two alright? Good heavens, I've never seen such a- never mind. I need to get a mop. Please, just... stay here. I'll only be a moment!”
She gallops off out of sight, leaving you with one very dirty, very displeased unicorn.
“THIS is my day out? THIS?!”
Her voice is shrill, high pitched; she's shivering and her saddle is stained and dripping soda. You help her out of it as she stands unmoving, rigid and shocked. You pull off your coat and shirt, struggling for something to dry her hair with, finding only your undershirt dry. Decency gone at this point, you strip it off and towel off her hair.
“And just what did you think you were doing?! In a public place? Do you want me to be some sort of laughing stock? You've succeeded you know. Why... why I ought to...” she breaks off, voice cracking, with a whimper as you finish toweling her off and hug her apologetically.
“This is what you want, isn't it?”
She manages this latest accusation from inside your muffling embrace, and you lower your face to hers, kissing her cheek, and licking some of the soda from it with a smile that you hope will bring her mood up. She sighs and shivers again, licking some of the soda from your shoulder.
“I just won't leave the house anymore. That's what I'll do. I'll just stay there, and you can live with that guilt.”
You rub her shoulders reassuringly, trying to find something to comfort her with. She nuzzles her head below your stomach again.
“I'll just sit there, and you can come home from work and have your way with me. It's what you want, right? I'll just sit there, and you'll just fill me up with all those babies. Goodness knows you don't see me as anything else, getting an erection in a place like-”
Her voice is cut off as your member swells again at this conversation piece, and you mentally plead with your boner to go away before she notices. It's too late of course.
“This-... that-... you dirty fiend.” She pushes you away with her forehooves and whips around, tail flourishing dramatically.
“Fine. Have it your way. Now. Right now. Lick me, make me wet, and take me.”
You look at her as if she's gone mad.
“I mean it. You see me as nothing more than some sex object, so I might as well be a sex object. Get it over with.”
You sigh, face embedded in your palm, everything somehow going a million times more wrong than you could have guessed it would when you left the house.
“I'll leave you.”
You look up.
“Right now, I'll leave this whole thing, if you don't do it. Use me, right here, right now. Lick me.”
The absurdity of the request hangs in the air as she suddenly shouts at you angrily.
“I'm your strumpet, yes? Your whore? Then DO IT. LICK ME.”
You look around quickly, and tentatively lick her outer lips. She tastes of soda and chocolate now, and she angrily pushes herself back as soon as you make contact, giving you an unexpected mouthful of her womanhood.
Your tongue is in deep now, and the taste is the familiar one you expected. You work it around in her, slowly becoming oblivious to everything around you. You grab handfuls of slick, sticky flank as you bury your tongue in her nether-regions, eliciting reluctant moans between angry growls. Her tail flicks between her legs, around her swollen belly, and pulls down your zipper expertly after several fumbling attempts to find it. The cocoa powder has begun to stick into her coat now, and she's got your jeans halfway off when you hear a clatter from the entrance to the aisle.
You look over - the checkout mare has dropped her mop. You're unsure how long she's been there, but one hoof is now reaching under her apron, and she's sprawled against the corner of the aisle, watching you both with intense interest. Rarity notices, and yelps, but it's too late. She wanted to be your strumpet, and she's getting what she asked for.
You push her top half to the ground and grip handfuls of ample belly and chest, thrusting into her with your hard member. From the aisle corner a half mouthed half whisper reaches your ears.
“Oh... oh yes. Slap her... slap her plump rump... nnnnfhh.”
You oblige the checkout mare, the slap resounding through the otherwise empty store. Rarity's ears perk up as she hears you take the instruction, and she deftly swivels, pulling you with her to face the prone pony.
“I'm his WHORE! Me! Keep your words to yourself! I'm the one he stuffs with cock, I'm the one who has his baby, I'm the one he feeds to sleep! Me. I'm his fucking slut, I'm his oohhhhhh...”
Her voice reaches a high pitch as you slam into her with all your pelvic might.
“I'm his fucking sluuuuuuutttttyess! Yeeeeeeesss!”
Her tongue lolls out of her mouth and she's panting as you pick up the pace, checkout mare staring at you both as you stare back at her. Rarity shifts onto her side, jealousy taking her, pulling you down to her level and hiking up her leg so that you can keep pounding.
“I'm your special one, right? Me? Just meeee?”
You nod furiously, crashing your lips into hers, forcing your tongue into her mouth, pumping vigorously all the while, sending huge, oceanic waves of jiggling flesh throughout her body.
“Give me it... give me all of it. Oh come on, give me all of it. It's mine.”
She wriggles desperately as you thrust, and wriggles free just as you climax. Your seed sprays everywhere, up the aisle like a loosed cannon, across the floor, and onto the face of the lucky checkout mare, both hooves furiously at work on her sopping privates. Rarity squeals in protest, slamming her tongue to the floor, licking furiously at the tiles where your sperm runs scattered. She reaches the mare and harumphs, licking the female's body over and over until the last drops are on her tongue.
She walks back up, tongue out, your cum covering it, and then gulps it down, staring up at you. You look around at the mess and scoop her into your arms as you kneel there, kissing her head and hair. From inside your embrace, you hear her happy giggling.

Two hours later, the shop is cleaned up and bustling. You walk through the checkout, the mare bagging your things wordlessly, and hit the street with your newly bought groceries. Rarity snuggles up to you against the cold, both of your clothes still damp and clinging to you.
“A-about what I said earlier darling...”
You look down at her, rubbing her hair reassuringly.
“Please dear, please. I need you to know that I understand... I was just a bit worked up by the... situation. And I said somethings that nopony with any grace should say. Well... besides the obvious of course. But THAT. I... I never meant that. I don't care if you already know, but it's only proper to say it out loud... I couldn't... I'd never leave. I couldn't ever leave you. Whether it's as your concubine or your wife... I...” she trails off and looks up at you, morning sun catching her big sapphire eyes. She manages to mouth three words you know too well, and you mouth back that same phrase. She nuzzles into your side, pleased, and you resume the walk home.

Chapter 5

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*Part 5: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Minor Foodplay, Showering, Heavy Drama, Sexual Denial, Anal Sex*

It’s late at night, and you sigh in spite of yourself. You’re in the narrow bathroom you both share, fastening the cuffs on your sleeves. Despite the fact that it’s only 6:30, you’re more tired than you’ve been in a long time. From your bedroom you can hear her humming as she prepares for the evening ahead of you. You fasten your tie tighter around your neck and brush your hair again, listening to the happy pony’s preparations. Before you were married you’d have never guessed how long it took her to get ready to go anywhere nice. You’d have never imagined the clothing she could design when she put her mind to it either, but she’d shown you as much when you’d first met. Even now, after your few years together, wearing the clothes she custom fitted for you, you’re impressed with her attention to detail.

You let your mind wander back to the first pair she made for you. It wasn’t long after your unexpected and unplanned arrival to Ponyville that you needed her services. Your first order of business had been finding food, but past that clothes and shelter became a priority. Your odd and mysterious figure had been dumped on her doorstep by the directions of one very kindly serving mare after a slew of questions and a hurried lunch. At first Rarity had been confused, and you had been embarrassed.
You remember the awkward combination of blushing and polite formality that had pervaded her attitude as she fitted your uncanny and narrow frame for kinds of clothing she’d never been called to make.
You remember her generous nature as she gave you, a newcomer, clothes and a room for the night at no charge.
You remember the hard work it took to save up the money you used to take her out to dinner a month later in thanks.
You remember her expression as she’d arrived to dine in the most regal restaurant in Canterlot, and found you wearing the first clothes she’d ever made for you; a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
You remember your year of courtship, and your beautiful and extravagant wedding.

Despite your best efforts, much has changed. You have less time to do cute things, but still know that it’s important to remind her she’s special. Waking up a week ago in a bed with yourself, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash had reminded you how important it was to do those special things. You’d invited her that morning over breakfast to dine with you again. You hadn’t expected she’d sneak out during the week while you were at work and fashion you a fine suit from the measurements she now knew by heart. You’d also not expected her to extend the invitation politely, over that same breakfast, to Rainbow Dash and Twilight. They’d politely accepted of course, and you’d been carried along with the change of plans.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash.

It wasn’t that you entirely disliked how things had turned out that unexpected evening, but your relationship with Rarity was something special. Ambushed by sudden and unexpected feelings, you haven’t had any real physical contact with her since then.
You know it’s jealousy. You know it, but you can’t explain why it makes you withhold sex from her when you normally wouldn’t. She’s tried to put you in the mood a number of times this week, not the least of which was surprising you with your suit and her dress. The number of times she’d made you help her in and out of it when you were fairly certain she could navigate it alone...

You’re broken from your thoughts by a knock on the door.
“Honestly, are you going to adjust that tie all night? We’ve an engagement, you know.”

You look down at her little three-and-a-half foot tall frame. Her indigo hair is styled up brilliantly, tied back and up in a bun, looping in and out of itself in a spectacular fashion, two strands of it hanging down to frame her now slightly pudgy face. Those big eyes look up at you expectantly, awaiting some compliment on a dress you’ve now seen her in a half-dozen times at least. Still, you drink in the sight of her, determined to give a genuine compliment. Despite your efforts though, she’s done her job. Words fail you.
It’s flawless; it shapes and tightly hugs her swollen stomach, resting perfectly on her widened hips, tight on her chest and veering up to the neck. It’s the perfect dress, the aftermath of pouring an incredibly curvaceous figure into something so well designed. Gems stud the collar, her characteristic diamonds. Around her neck is a beautiful gold and amethyst necklace that you can only guess the origins of - the diamond shaped stone alone is bigger than your thumb. She starts to pout as you continue to search for a compliment.
You settle for clearing your throat and adjusting your tie, before reaching down to scratch her ear affectionately. Your hand is halted inches from her head by a sharp yelp.
“Nononono. No touching! Sorry darling, but it took almost an hour to get my hair just right... I can’t have it getting messed up... at least not yet.”
Here she swats your backside playfully with her tail. You narrow your eyes in reply and she grumbles, making for the front door as you turn off the bathroom light.

Twilight and Rainbow Dash are already waiting when you arrive. Their outfits are lovely in their own right, but you’ve no real interest in them. They seem like the sort of thing that Rarity might make, having become quite accustomed to her style after watching her at her craft for so long. Together you proceed inside, and take your table. You all order drinks, and almost immediately Dash launches into a story of her latest harrowing adventure on the weather patrol. Twilight sips at her wine politely, the two fillies pausing every now and then to exchange grins at the pleasure of being out in public together so openly. Something brushes your foot under the table.
It can’t be Rarity’s hoof. It’s soft and barehooved, and Rarity is almost certainly wearing shoes. The hoof fumbles around clumsily and you watch above the table as a blush finally creeps into Twilight’s face, and then Dash’s. You barely contain a sigh. Next to you, Rarity sits uncomfortably, sipping politely at her drink. The only person at the table who avoided ordering anything alcoholic, she’s settled for a simple glass of water. You can guess at the conflict inside her, so excited to be out and doing things, but afraid of being judged for her size and appetite. Something brushes up against your leg again, and you briefly consider glaring at Rainbow Dash and Twilight before it wraps around your ankle.
Stealing a glance, she blushes and winks at you. She’s in the process of giving both your orders to the waiter, a privilege you’ve always allowed her when you dine together, and she seems rather pleased with her ability to multitask. Under the table, the tail flexes around you, hoping for some sort of playful reprisal. You smile and carefully hook your foot under her chair leg, scooting her ever so slightly when the waiter is busy taking Dash and Twilight’s orders. She cocks a playful eyebrow back at you, not sure what to do next, and settles for using her hoof to drive off the attacking leg. The server takes your menus as you try to sneak the foot subtly back into her area. Playfully, she steps her hoof back to drive you off.

Accidentally driving her spiked heel directly into your toes.

Your leg jerks back reflexively and she gasps as your knee hits the table, knocking over your half-empty glass of wine. The liquid runs toward your end of the table quickly, and you stretch over it to grab the back of her chair and awkwardly pull her back and out of the way. The result is a shirt covered in wine, and you stand up less than pleased. She looks at you, then down at the table, and shoots you the most appreciative of smiles. Carefully, you take off the coat you were keeping on your chair and put it over your shirt, hoping it will cover most of the stains as a passing server stallion hurries over to your table to fix the problem.

Dash and Twilight recover slowly, Dash complimenting your quick action and remarking none too subtly on the wisdom of sacrificing your shirt to protect Rarity’s dress. Twilight busies herself with fixing the loose liquid on the table, scrunching up her face, horn glowing brilliantly. The cloth is still stained, but the surface of your table is dry now. She asks if you’d like the same, but Rarity declines before she can finish, insisting that she’ll take care of it later. She proudly asserts that she can likely get the stain out as well, though you’re fairly certain Twilight could manage both easily if she had time to practice. You keep this opinion to yourself, hoping the embarrassing moment will pass soon. Retaking your seat, Dash assertively flags down another waiter, requesting that your glass be refilled. Before long, a second glass is in front of you.

The girls are determined to make the evening fun despite the spill. You find their stories enjoyable, but each time they reference or include Rarity in one, you feel an inner twinge. They’ve been her friends for so long, and they’re so filled with stories you weren’t a part of. Almost all meetings with any of her friends are like this, but you’ve always refused to let your feeling like an outsider get in the way of her having a good time. Still, you find yourself at the bottom of your third glass of wine all too quickly, finally starting to relax and enjoy yourself as the main course is served.

Rarity picks at hers at first, with Dash and Twilight enjoying every bite of their well cooked meals without taking any real notice of her plight. You notice though, and you carefully nudge her hoof under the table. She shoots you a surprised look and you point subtly with your fork at her plate, giving her the best smile you can manage between careful bites of your own meal. Your encouragement settles in, and she starts to catch up to the others, actually finishing her plate before you’re even halfway through yours. She smiles up at you adoringly, and Dash makes a quip about her eating for two.

Blush fills her ivory face, and she looks away from everyone’s gazes. Twilight busies herself reprimanding her partner, but you ignore their playful and flirtatious spat as you slide your half-eaten plate to Rarity. She looks at you with a frown, and you reply by scooping up a steamed floret of broccoli with your fork and bringing it to her lips. Carefully, she takes it off of the edge of the fork and smiles appreciatively, polishing off the rest of the generous portion in only a few minutes’ time.

Dessert comes shortly after, and you share that with her too. She protests a great deal as you slide her your slice of cheesecake, but Twilight and Dash offer her encouragement and she finally buckles, eating it slowly over renewed conversation. Whatever the conversation has become, you’re not sure at this point. At the end of glass five your vision has the characteristic slow pickup each time you turn your head, and you’ve instead contented yourself with watching her eat. Each chocolate-dribbled and incredibly rich bite disappears into her mouth, where she chews an appropriate number of times before swallowing it with relish. At the end, she leans back only slightly in her chair, manners still intact, and you playfully hook your foot around the chair leg, not so subtly pulling her over to you, though it takes some exertion.

She looks around, a bit embarrassed by the display, unsure if she should reprimand you or avoid calling attention to it. She apparently decides upon the latter, leaning her head on your shoulder as you rub the swelling of her belly under the table cloth. From her sitting position it rolls up like a masterfully shaped hill, tighter than ever against the confines of her lovely gown. It’s taut to the touch, and you pat her kindly.

The bill arrives, and you dig the appropriate amount of coins from your pocket. It’s a little bit more expensive than you’d expected thanks to the plethora of drinks you went through over the course of the relatively short meal, but you remind yourself that renovations on the boutique are finished and you’ve got spare income as a result. It’s half of what prompted the evening’s beginning, and you leave a more-than-slightly-generous tip. Together, you all rise, and finding your feet is difficult. Five glasses of wine are especially potent at this point, and your feet seem heavy and awkward as you make your way out the door of the restaurant.

Dash and Twilight smile and thank you for such an enjoyable evening, walking off in the direction of Twilight’s tree house. You and Rarity take the winding cobblestone road back toward the urban center of Ponyville, where your tiny apartment lies waiting. You lean on her for support every now and then, and she looks worriedly up at you. When her voice comes out, it seems distant and quiet, though you’re fairly sure she hasn’t dropped her tone.

“Are you certain you’re alright? Goodness knows how much you had to drink in there. What on earth were you thinking?”
You shrug awkwardly, almost losing your balance, swearing mentally that you’re not as bad off as you seem to be and there’s just a small bump in the cobblestone where you were walking. She braces her head against your side and your fingers play idly with her hair, drawing an irritated groan from her.
“You know, this is not how I meant this evening to end. Honestly, it was going quite well. If you’d just behaved yourself... and your shirt! More work to do tomorrow.”
You sigh.
“But...”
Your ears perk up.
“But it was quite brave of you. A dashing gentleman, through and through.”
You reach the stairs, and she helps you up, taking the last couple steps without you.
“You know... gentlemen can get rewards from their ladies.”
You look up the stairs at her, framed against the hall lights, her broad backside silhouetted and wiggling slightly.
You hike the last few steps, trying awkwardly to catch up to her, stumbling a bit as you go. She playfully dodges and hurries down the hall to your door, reaching it long before you do, wiggling her hips again seductively.
You screw up your courage and take the hallway in a bounding stride, bumping up against the wall as you reach the door, fumbling for your key as your hands run through her mane. You finally get it in and try to turn it, forgetting the required jiggle and wrenching it hard. It doesn’t give, and she bumps the door with her rear as you attempt again to turn it. Jiggle satisfied, the messy lock gives and you swing the door open. She tries to dash forward, and you try to follow, tripping and stumbling. Her playful canter turns into a panicked dodge, trying to avoid her precious baby carrying body being caught in your clumsy fall. You clip her side, and you both spin onto the ground. You manage to get your arms around her, sheltering her as you both roll. You lay on your back, her heavy frame on top of you, knocking the wind out of you. She hears the breath escape you, and gets up with all haste.
“Are you alright? What were you THINKING? Just imagine what could have happened if... Oh no... did you hit your head? Did I hit my... What were we THINKING?”
She looks at you in a panic for some answer, and you try to get your bearings, vision swimming. Gradually her face comes into view. Her hair is an utter mess between your playing with it and the fall, and as you collect yourself you start to splutter and choke back a laugh.
She looks at you, infuriated. “Laughing?! How can you be laughing?! We ALL could have been hurt!”
Your laughter picks up, chest-heaving laughs at first, spreading down to your stomach. You wince, breath still out of you there, and you try to sit up.
She harrumphs at you, eyes glaring, slamming the still ajar door shut, and turning on the lights. They sting your eyes and you shield your face from them.
“You... you need to be more responsible. We both do. It’s not long before, well... you know.”
You try to stop laughing, and get swatted hard in the face with her tail. Attention finally on the situation at hand, you sit up and look at her. She’s teary-eyed.
“WE could have been hurt.” She looks at her swollen stomach, voice still unsteady. “I’m... I’m still not sure we aren’t. How you could be so reckless... honestly. I’m going to go get in contact with Twilight, if she’s still awake. Go shower off and sober up. We ARE going to talk about this.”

She storms out of the room, leaving you to collect yourself with a grumble. You try to think of something clever with regards to Twilight and still being up, but your mind is cloudy and your speech slurred. In place of any intelligible sound a grunt comes out, your sides still hurting from laughter and heavy pony. Peeling your shirt off, you make for the shower.

You let the water wash over your face. Your brain’s clearing up a bit now, though you’ve only been in the shower for ten minutes at the most. Slowly, you realize what trouble you both might be in, and you sink to your knees in the shower. You’re unsure if you should go out and comfort her while she waits for a reply from Twilight. Realizing you’ve done plenty of damage already, you sit back. You need to sober up, fast. You count in your mind the number of drinks you had. Five. Not much food, either, but you’re still physically full. You can’t have metabolised it all, yet... right? You shake your head, water getting in your eyes. You can’t get less drunk, but you can avoid it getting worse. Hunched over, you carefully direct your finger to the back of your mouth. There’s a knock on the door, and you freeze before you can manage to see your plan through. Without waiting for a reply, the knob glows and the door swings open.

She stands there, eyes puffy but dry. Carefully, she waddles in, taking a seat next to the shower, leaning against the base of the tub and sighing. You slide the door aside, wet hands reaching out gently for her. Her dress is off, her hair is down in a mess, but she seems to be getting composed. Finally she manages.
“Letter’s back from Twilight. She says... she says everything should be fine. Told me how to check on things with my... well, you know. Said to be careful and not exert myself down there for a bit. She... she said you probably rescued us both.”
You look up from your sulking spot under the hot onslaught coming from above.
“I’m... I’m just so happy.”
You look over at her, and she’s crying. She scoots closer, and you take to your knees, leaning over the base of the tub and pulling her close.
“It was such a close call, and... I’m sorry. It’s just... you were so irresponsible tonight. You know that, don’t you?”
She breaks from the hug to look into your eyes. They’re filling up, hot and stinging, and you know that you can’t blame it on the shower. She sees it, and your nod. Nuzzling your face gratefully, she edges her body closer to yours.
“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to get so... angry with you. I was being difficult as well; I shouldn’t have. We should have come home sooner, but I just...”
She trails off, looking back at the floor.
You rub your hand from her hair down her neck to her side and she cranes her neck to meet your eyes.
“Yes. Yes, I admit it. I wanted it. You’ve just been so bad about it this week, I figured we were finally going to get around to it tonight. I know it’s not very ladylike to take advantage of someone, but I just can’t imagine why you’ve been so distant this week. I mean, ever since Dash and Twilight-”
She stops and looks at you.
“Is that what all that was about? Tonight didn’t help at all then... and the reason you...”
You look away and she bursts out into a loud laugh.
“That’s what this is about?! Oh goodness me. You’re jealous! You’re really jealous of them.”
You glare at her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make fun dear, it’s just so unexpected. You’re normally so open about these things. I mean, the supermarket trip! I didn’t exactly hear you say “No” this time either... How on earth am I supposed to know you feel something if you never say it?”
You lean back in the shower, pretending to pout. Apparently you do a fairly good job, as the scraping and thumping of hooves and legs alerts you to her climbing in next to you. She lays down in the base of the tub with you, large form barely fitting next to yours, forcing you to snake your way around her. From that position, she nuzzles your face with her nose, hoof groping about the shower for something to help pull her to a sitting position. You try to reach an arm around her to keep her next to you, but she forces her way past, finally sitting up and allowing you room to roll onto your back. The water beats across your chest, starting to get cold. She turns the dial slightly to let more hot water out and starts to shampoo her hair.
“I’ll respect your wishes then. We can take a break from... from that. No need to worry about a thing. Twilight advised we not do anything down there, so we won’t.”

She finishes washing the shampoo out of her hair as you admire her. Even soaking wet, her body has a grace and beauty about it that no pony you’ve met can rival. She sits next to you, ample flanks spread across the shower floor. The extra dessert tonight helped their cause, and you admire how much of the shower space is occupied by just the expanse of her large backside. As she reaches to grab the soap, that precious stomach comes into full view. She lathers up her coat, sprinkling some of her bath salt in the water collecting behind your bodies and scooping it up with her hooves. Each time she turns around to get a hoof full to rub into herself, she tries to hide her glances at your lower body. You follow her subtle gazes and realize what has her attention. You’ve been so engaged in her bathing ritual you failed to notice how hard you’d begun to get. She clears her throat loudly, turning again behind her, rubbing the soapy foam into her chest and sides. Carefully, she manages onto her hooves, beginning to soap up her bottom. She leaves the soap hanging there, moving on to conditioning her hair.

Cautiously, you reach out and grip the thick expanse of her flanks. Her steady diet of large meals has made them bigger than you could have ever dreamed when you’d first married. Your hand practically disappears the more your squeeze those round buttocks, and she continues to shampoo and condition her tail and hair, pretending to be oblivious. Determined not to be ignored, you slide a finger into her. She stiffens at the suddenness before turning around to face you, keeping her womanhood just out of reach and stepping over your legs carefully.

“No, no darling. I simply must respect your wishes. I’d hate to force you into something uncomfortable. I’ve been so wrong in not considering your feelings up until now, I’d hate to deny you that.”

You sit up, trying to work your hands under her and back into her womanhood. She stops their advance with her outstretched hoof. “You know what Twilight said. Please... we’ll not be doing anything there tonight.” You sigh at the absurdity of it. Even to your still addled mind, the complexity of why any amount of foreplay there could risk anyone’s health escapes you. You take to your feet, grumbling. She opens her mouth to say something and closes it. You look at her for a moment before sighing, turning to the side and beginning to stroke yourself.
“Oh now that is just NOT FAIR.”
You look back down at her.
“If I can’t get anything, you most certainly may not. Stop that. Stop it this instant.”
You pause in your motion for a moment before grinning playfully at her, continuing slowly, pretending to savor the sensation. She grits her teeth and grabs the bottle of conditioner.
“No. Absolutely not. You’re not going to have all the fun yourself.”
She squirts a great deal of conditioner onto her hoof and grabs hold of you with both of her front legs. Working rhythmically up and down, she continues her repeated motions until you’re gripping her hair. Your head tilts back, and the sensation, though distant, is powerful. It’s all the wine still going through you, and you know it, but she manages to continue for quite some time before you’re even close to the edge. By that point she’s panting from the exertion, legs aching, and eyes looking up at you accusingly.
“Well?”
You grit your teeth, unable to speak.
“No. You’re done.”
She stops, and you gasp and grab her hooves, forcing them back where they were.
“No. I told you. You don’t get them anymore. You’re taking too long.”
She turns around, leaving you with a lathered-up member and a terrifying case of blue balls. You let out a whimper, only half playful, and she sighs with her back to you, lowering her forelegs toward the ground.
“You... you can’t put it in there, alright? But you can look at me if you want, while you... while you try to finish up.”
You sigh, stroking up and down again, getting closer and grabbing a handful of her meaty haunches with your free hand. You play your thumb around the outside of her slit, and she wiggles away a little bit. Changing tactics, you rub around the pucker of her ass. She sighs and shifts a little more, now out of room in the shower to escape to. You close the few remaining inches, slick fingertip slipping in.
“Nnnoooooo. It’s... it’s dirty back there. Don’t. You can’t.”
You stop rubbing yourself, other hand now rubbing her flank reassuringly as you work your little finger all the way in, hoping to loosen her up. You work a little more lubricating conditioner from your hard-on, slipping your ring finger in next. She whimpers a bit, and tries to whisper out something about “a true lady musn’t” but you switch to your middle finger and she nearly melts in your arms.
“Ffffff”
You slide out of her carefully, trying to let her get her words out.
“Ffffingers. Your fingers. Oh yes.”
You look at your hands proudly. They’re one of a kind. You apply a bit more lubricant and slip two fingers carefully and slowly in. She scratches with her hooves, neck craning.
“Put it in... oh please, come now. Put it in.”
You slide them in and out carefully for another minute at least, re-applying lubricant when necessary. Despite all her protests, you refuse her the one still throbbing part of you that she wants. She’s squeaking in the hot cascade now.
“Pleeease pleasepleasepleaseplease. Never. I’ll not look at another again. No one gets... no one gets anything. Please. You know you want it just as badly. Just... do it!”
You slap her plump bottom gently, watching the waves of flesh rock all the way up her back. Her tongue hangs out; she’s shocked at her own enjoyment, and she twists her head around. You lean up and give her a kiss.
“My lips are your lips dear. Everything I am belongs to you, and you belong to me. Isn’t that the agreement? Please. Give me what’s yours.”
You rise to your knees, head pushing against the loosened hole she’s presenting to you. You work it in carefully, much more difficult to accommodate than the two simple fingers you had before. Her moans fill the shower, steaming up the glass and mirrors. Cautious at first, you work all the way in until you’re completely inside. She lies there, motionless, whimpering and moaning as you slowly slide out and back in. Not too quick to move, you focus on performing the difficult task without harming her. A few more careful thrusts and she’s loose enough to move in and out of relatively easily. Getting the hang of relaxing herself around you at will, she grips suddenly.
“Go.”
It begins. You’re thrusting hard, knees aching and tired after only a few attempts, but slowly the pleasure building in you drowns out all other sensations. The added stamina from those distant senses keeps you going as she gradually loosens around you, and your pace picks up until you’re slamming her at your regular pace. She’s working her hoof around her stomach, finally finding and massaging her clit with your helpful guidance. Her other three legs keep her stomach off of the bottom of the tub as she leans her shoulder into the basin for support. You push her harder up against it, thighs clapping against her ample amounts of flank. The sound of your thrusts and your bodies connecting fills the room. She’s barely audible over them, whimpers and moans unlike the others you’re used to in your sexual escapades. These are more desperate, as if she were trying to place a new taste or sensation against one she’d known previously.
“It’s... it’s... AAaaaaauugh.”
Both of your screams and moans pick up. She’s so incredibly tight, even now. Tighter than she’s ever been in your previous sex, tighter than anything you’ve experienced. The heat, the lubrication, everything’s different and unexpected. The new sensations carry you up and away, and you feel yourself finally building up to a climax. Her struggling, rubbing hoof increases its pace, and you hear the change in her breathing from heavy to rapid that you know signals her oncoming orgasm.
She cums almost at the same time you do, knees buckling as you’re forced to keep her off her stomach with your own improvised lifting. Standing up with her back half in your arms and angling her down as you thrust into her, she jiggles and squirms as you finally explode inside her.

The waves of pleasure almost take you off your feet, and you feel your hot sticky release filling up the cavity you made with your desperate thrusts. You barely manage to set her down before you’re leaning against the wall catching your breath, cum still spurting out occasionally onto her prone body. She looks up, catching some on her face, and opens her mouth as you aim for it. A messy string covers up her muzzle and gets into her mouth and eyes. She tries to wipe them clean with her hooves, using the shower water to help, as you continue to pant doggedly. She looks up at you, getting the last of your seed off her hoof with her tongue.
“It’s a different taste. It’s not a bad one. Just different.”
She manages a smile at you between exhausted breaths.
“Thank you for tonight. I know it’s not been easy for either of us, but you really are everything a lady could hope for.” You smile down at her, breathing laboured, and mouth those three words you two exchange during tender moments. “I love you too, darling.”

She rolls over closer to your feet, looking up at you. You scoop her into your arms, kissing her neck, reaching past her to turn off the shower. You towel both yourself and her off, her hair coming out a bit of a mess. She agrees to leave it until tomorrow, and you very carefully pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. Her weight is difficult to manage, but you know how much she loves to feel small, especially at this point in her pregnancy. You manage the trip with grace, and you set her gently on your bed.

She’s curled up waiting for you when you emerge from the closet with something to wear to bed. She squints, trying to make out what it is. Realization dawns and she bursts into a wide grin.
Clad in the first shirt she made for you, you ease into bed, spooning up against Rarity, your arms wrapped around her precious tummy. She wriggles on the bed until her back is up against your chest and lets out an enormous sigh. She stays there until the both of you drift off into sleep.

Chapter 6

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-Part 6: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Major Foodplay, Stuffing, Water inflation, light watersports, Bathing, Mud and oil, Mud wrestling, Light third party, Angry Sex.

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You’re leaning back carefully in a booth watching her. Somewhere across the table from you, behind a pile of dishes both emptied and full, sits a regal and well mannered pony. The tell-tale scrape of a fork grating across an empty plate seeking crumbs prompts you to slide aside the curtain of dishes and push a small round plate with a chocolate pastry resting on it to her side of the table. Rarity looks at you for a moment before looking around the sparsely populated hotel buffet. You break her from her ritual of chewing on her lip by gently nudging her hoof under the table with your foot. Her gaze centers back on you, and you smile encouragingly at her, extending a hand to rest on her foreleg and giving it a gentle squeeze where it lies paused; suspended over the dish. She smiles nervously at you and begins to take her characteristic small, well mannered bites.

You know she wants it, that she enjoys being pampered and having her refined palette tested with a long assortment of smaller sized desserts. She might not be able to hide the concern over what other ponies who see her behind such a wall of confections might think, but by your reasoning that was the entire point of coming out here. After a close call and high emotions during a past Friday evening, you’ve packed up your things and headed for a relaxing two day stay at a nearby spa. It had been Twilight’s recommendation that brought you there, the kindly pony producing two weekend passes she claimed were from an old friend in high places. It hadn’t occurred to you how high those places might have been until you’d stepped into the hotel and spa.

The ceilings here are domed, rising high into the air, sometimes out of sight. The chandeliers sparkled with a fury in the Saturday afternoon sunlight. The morning’s journey from Ponyville to Canterlot slipped into the back of your mind almost immediately as your bags were taken from you by two pegasi who flew high above the guests and out of sight to your rooms with them. Looking down at the tickets and wondering what in all of Equestria was waiting for you that weekend, you’d stepped up to the check in counter and given them the passes. It had been the work of a few minutes of validation and authorization, and in the meantime she’d slipped off to find a relaxing place to sit down. And she’d found this.

When you’d found her, she was nursing a simple hot chocolate and a small pastry. Well mannered even when she’s struggling, she’d picked at it with a fork self consciously until you’d reached the booth and snuggled up to her, peppering her cheek and nose with kisses that prompted little giggles. Playfully, you’d rubbed her stomach and elicited a number of hungry growls from it. She’d tried to hide her embarrassment, mumbling something about a long ride and it almost being lunch time. She’d been shocked of course when you’d gotten up and headed to the buffet and returned with all of these, arms laden with dishes. With a little encouragement, she’d started in on them.

Now she’s wrapping up the last of the pastries, turning her attentions toward a small slice of cake. All the portions here are small, designed for ponies with different dietary habits than hers. You feel her tail slapping against your leg, drawing your attention from her round, creamy white stomach up to her face. She’s halfway through the last slice of cake, and her face is flushed red.
“Enjoying the view? Goodness, you’re incorrigible. We’re in the more luxurious spa in all of Equestria and you’re staring at this bloated thing?”
You reach under the table, squeezing her tail, hoping to diffuse some of her nervous ranting before she can get into full swing.
“Well, I suppose it -is- rather flattering. Do you really find my beauty so unparallelled?”
She manages a sly grin out of the corner of her eyes.
“Are you imagining, right now, what it would be like to get this tight saddle off and find a robe to go over this...?”
She runs a hoof carefully down her chest to reside on her taut stomach, filled with dessert and stretching the straps of her saddle, making you blush furiously. Her boldness surprises you, but she’s been getting some of her characteristic confidence back slowly over the last few weeks. You like to imagine your attentions have been seeing to that, and you’re glad for it. You love it when she’s confident, especially when that confidence stretches to her interactions with ponies. Eight months into carrying the baby, anything you can do to boost her ego is a plus. You silently thank Twilight, her wisdom in sending you both here far from anypony you know dawning in full upon you.

With a clink, she’s loosening one of the straps on her saddle, breathing a sigh of relief as it goes slack. There’s a tight imprint where it was biting into her skin. She takes a bigger bite of the cake now, and lets out a sigh. “Oh I’m thinking we may not have time to... stop off at the room... before we get to the spa treatment. My skin is positively aching in this tight thing, I certainly need a massage at the very least.” You look at her hopefully, wishing that she was teasing you. She is, of course. Her eyebrows are raised playfully, her lips pursed in pretend thought. She breaks it, taking the last bite of cake. “You know, I do believe that’s right. We’ll simply have to wait until after the treatment to take a nap. We’ll both enjoy it more then.”

Rebuckling her saddle more loosely without looking at you she takes to her feet and prances off playfully, haunches swaying with an intentional exaggeration every step of the way up to the spa doors. She waits for you to catch up, then enters the doors as you reach them. You push them open and your nose is greeted with a variety of scents. Various doors to steam rooms, massage parlours, community baths, all line out from the walls. You pull your tickets from your pocket, seeing what you’re in for. They’re stamped with a pair of gold crowns, and you look around, gaze finally settling on the door she’s already making for. Bowing to her superior knowledge of the practice, you follow her into the private spa room.

The room is large. Larger than your apartment, in all likelihood. The floors are paved in glossy white marble, working up to warmly painted pastel pink walls. Depressions line the floors where they meet the walls, filled with a goopy mud. In the center of the tiled room is a small risen roof resting on four columns. Above it the ceiling is tiled with glass, sunlight streaming in. At the center of the little gazebo is a wide pool with steam coming off of it. Lining that pool are several flat upraised spaces covered with thick mattresses, which you’re guessing are for the massage. The door clicks behind you, breaking your study of the place up.

A thin blue spa-pony stands in the doorway, tilting her head at both of you. Rarity’s nose bumps your hand and you look down to find that she has appeared at your side. The spa-pony welcomes you both warmly to Equestria’s finest spa. A few hours ago you might have mentally argued such a grand claim, but you’re in no position to do so now as Rarity exchanges pleasantries with her, asking questions about the architecture and the facilities. You wander over to the pool, their voices echoing slightly across the tile to you. Rarity expresses her disappointment at Twilight’s recommendation that she not spend too much time in the hot spa baths, inquiring on a second opinion. You hope you’ll not have to intervene to remind her whose advise sent you here in the first place, but your worries are unfounded. The spa-pony kindly agrees with Twilight’s opinion, saying that ponies who are expecting should “likely not raise their body temperature by that many degrees for too long a period of time”. Rarity sighs and continues to discuss other spa treatments. It seems she shouldn’t hope for more than twenty minutes in the bath.

You dip your hand in the water in the meantime, the two ponies exchanging names and histories at your back. It’s quite hot, and the steam lifting up to your nose brings the smell of sweet bath salts to bear. The scent of lavender fills the room-you’re surprised you couldn’t place Rarity’s favorite scent before, but its aroma doesn’t quite overpower the vanilla scent that the bathwater exudes. You wonder briefly if Rarity has noticed her favorite scents blending together, but when you turn around she’s standing behind you alone.

“The masseuse went to fetch some oils. I ordered you the full body massage and rub. Those joints of yours are certain to give her an interesting time of it.” She giggles, and you wonder if this is her private prank on her new acquaintance. “I have personally ordered the mudbath, followed by a body massage, no oil. It doesn’t quite agree with my skin.” You look at her incredulously, wondering how often she’s attended spas in the past. “Oh don’t look so shocked, darling. You’ll get to see me oiled up at some point tonight.” She gives you a girlish giggle and a wink as she walks over to the mudbaths up against the wall, easing her body into them and sighing. “Try to enjoy yourself!”

You awkwardly disrobe, wondering how you missed her getting out of her saddle and the spa-pony leaving the room, and laying down on one of the beds, stomach facing down. Your head feels heavy and your limbs awkward. The freshly laundered pillows have their own scent, but it’s difficult to distinguish from the strong scents of the room that have already settled into them. You nestle your face into their softness, taking a deep breath. Sandlewood? It seems like it, though it’s been a long time since you smelled it. Sandlewood, and a hint of melon that you didn’t pick up on before. You turn your head, and the spa-pony’s face fills your vision.

To say you jump would be an understatement. In your surprise, you roll back off the bed, hitting the marble on your side with a slap of flesh on stone. Rubbing your side you look up to see Rarity giving you the most puzzled of looks. “Is something wrong dear? Lose your balance?” You shake your head, hoping to clear it. The warmth of the room, the fumes from the bath, all of them are getting overpowering. There’s no reason you shouldn’t have heard the spa-pony come back, and she’s calling out apologies as she reaches a hoof down to you to help you up. She reaches into a saddlebag and produces a small paper bag that crunches its leafy contents as you take it. Per her instructions, you inhale deeply. Rapidly, your senses return to you. The heat of the room is almost visible, your nose is filled quickly with the scent of lavender, moisture from the dampness clings to you, and the sound of water trickling into the bath near you reaches your ears. The masseuse explains the disorientation as a form of sensory overload. She carefully places the sack into her saddlebag and urges you back onto the bed. Carefully you climb back on, Rarity watching you with a mixture of concern and amusement, and you lie back down on your stomach. The masseuse’s voice reaches your ears, and she strikes up a conversation with Rarity.

The two exchange histories and jobs as you’re being rubbed down with oil. Her hooves press and lift the muscles of your back, a dull ache filling your joints and begging to be touched. She gently probes these places, expertly summoning up your most stressful places and relieving them with gentle but firm circular presses. You practically melt under her touch, sneaking glances out from the pillow at Rarity. You’re certain she’s gotten closer, making idle conversation as she lounges in the muddy moat surrounding the room. Gentle thumping motions assault your back, and you let out a breath, glad to finally be enjoying yourself.

Rarity has certainly moved at this point, having migrated around the edge of the room until she’s at the masseuse’s back. The spa-pony continues to work diligently as she tells of her history, how she got her cutie mark after giving an ailing relative a back walk, how she came to work in Canterlot from all the way in Neigh Orleans, even going into detail as to how she met her mate. Her hooves continue their careful work all the way down to your buttocks, pressing and squeezing and pushing on them firmly. She mentions something about tension, and you’re certain you catch a twitch from Rarity. The pressing continues platonicly, moving from there to your thighs and down to your feet.

She pays special attention to the bottoms of these, commenting on the strange shape and feel as she rolls the balls of your feet between her hooves. Finally she’s done, and she tells you to roll over. You look at Rarity, and she shoots you a rather confused glance before nodding. The masseuse grabs up her bottle of oil and squirts it onto your chest, carefully rubbing it into your shoulders and neck, down to your chest, and moving down to your pelvis. Under her touch, you beg your member to remain soft. She rubs and presses with fervor on your pecs and biceps, calling out stressed joints you didn’t know you had. She frowns as she retraces her steps on your arms, asking what you do for a living. Rarity interrupts your attempt at a reply, interjecting hurriedly that you’re both working together at HER boutique. The spa-pony chuckles and asks if you’re responsible for the heavy lifting, commenting on the large amount of stress in your biceps and triceps.

You don’t have to say anything, you just watch as Rarity sinks sulkily up to her nose in the mud, blowing angry bubbles at this comment. You haven’t lifted anything more than your usual exercise amount in months, the only exception has been the number of times you’ve carried about your heavily pregnant wife. The masseuse’s hooves stray down to your groin, rubbing the insides of your legs and your pelvis carefully. Your focus is entirely on your penis at this point, hoping to whatever saintly pony watches over married men that it will behave. There is a squirt of oil, and the cold liquid lands directly on your member. The spa-pony begins to rub it in. She strokes up and down on it, and you hear Rarity stiffen and surface, not daring to look over at her. The oil continues to slicken the hard working pony’s hooves as she works up and down with more determination now. Offhandedly, she asks Rarity if “everything works alright”, obviously becoming a bit frustrated with your member’s intentional reluctance to stiffen. From her position, Rarity manges a squeak.
“I- That is... whatever do you mean, dearie? It’s... Ahhh... Might I inquire as to WHAT you are doing?”
The massage stops as the powder blue pony reaches down for some more lotion, the majority having soaked into you at this point. She remarks that this is all part of the full-release full body massage. Another squirt of oil, and she’s back at work. You grit your teeth, mentally begging Rarity to rescue you before nature gets the better of your willpower. Sneaking a glance over, you see her glaring daggers. At you. She’s breathing heavily, flustered, and her face is red. You’re positive she’d throw something at you if she had it close to hand. Confused, you retreat into the pillows, receding as much as you can and trying to focus on something else. Your break in concentration has cost you however.
In her dedicated hooves, you’ve grown slightly harder. The massaging pony is grinning, amber eyes showing a pleased and victorious glint. To be safe, she reaches down for the oil. She frowns, groping around before looking down and gasping. Hastily she exits the room, and you risk a glance over the edge of the bed to discover the oil spilled messily across the floor.

You look up from it to your fuming wife.
“How... DARE you.”
You slither across the bed, putting it between the two of you as she messily rises from the mudbath, mud clinging to her skin and dripping from her fur in clumps.
“How DARE you! You player! Cheater! Pervert!” She flings the nearly empty bottle across the room at you, and you duck, slick feet sliding around as you try to find purchase. She struggles huffily, shaking mud from her coat as she advances on you. Her voice drops to a venomous hiss.
“How could you do that, ordering such a thing. Are you really so insatiable that you can’t wait until later tonight? You KNOW I would do it better than that... that... HUSSY!”
You hold your hands out between both of you as she gets close, afraid of what she might do. You open your mouth to explain, to try and tell her that SHE ordered the massage, but she rushes you. Your step back fails you, your feet slip, and you fall back onto the hard marble with a smack. Your vision blurs, and you rub your head, checking for blood. There’s none yet, the site sore to the touch. The breath is forced out of you as a heavily pregnant pony sits her haunches none too gently onto your stomach. You feel muddy hooves gripping your cock and you struggle to look around the fleshy, muddy expanse of her back to see what she’s doing. She begins to tug up and down on your erect manhood furiously, spare hoof rubbing the inside of your leg. Her voice is frighteningly high pitched now, as if she’s choking back anger and tears.
“See here? I know all your favorite spots. This one right -here-”
She forces the rubbing hoof into the tender joint of your leg around your hip, and you jolt. Done softly and gently it’s an intense feeling, but this press shoots a needle of pain up your leg. The reflexive kick bucks her awkwardly off, and she lies there in a splayed muddy mess at your side, huffing angrily.
“Do you want it, or don’t you?”
You pin her shoulders back as she tries to wrestle free, your oiled body giving her groping hooves no purchase to push you aside, and her muddy one impossible to hold still. You get your arms around her legs, and she wiggles and slithers out, leaving streaks of mud up your biceps. You tumble out of the way of her flailing and muddy tail, hands desperately grabbing at the hocks of her legs. She kicks her hooves in frustration, narrowly missing your face as you manage a clumsy leap that enables you to hook your slippery arms around her head, putting your heavily pregnant wife in an awkward headlock. You keep your grip relaxed, just firm enough to keep her from being able to slip out. From behind your elbow, you hear her muffled voice as she slaps her hooves futilely against your oiled back.
“I just want to show you a good time, come now! Surely you want... want me to do it... Not her...”
She ceases struggling as her wits return to her and she calms down. Her breathing is heavy after the exertion, and you check her over for bruises. In control for the majority of the wrestling match, she seems largely unharmed as she sits on her thick haunches and sniffles up at you.
“I didn’t know that was what it was... I’m sorry... it must have been -terribly- awkward for you. And when she kept going... HONESTLY do some ponies have no concept of when enough is enough?”
You close the distance to her, pulling her to your chest as she fumbles about.
“I really am quite...”
She goes quiet, looking over your shoulder. You chance a look back, and the spa-pony shrinks from the doorway. Rarity opens her mouth to give the masseuse an earful, but you place a finger gently on her lips. The sky coloured pony bows apologetically and wordlessly and exits, the door clicking softly behind her. Next to you, Rarity trembles, still angry.
“I’m glad YOU have the presence of mind to hold both our tongues. Why the things I’d say to that tart... I’ve half a mind to ask her manager just what sort of establishment offers such lewd and perverse services. I expect such things from a house of ill repute, not the finest spa in Equestria, why just thinking about the way she went so hungrily after your-”
She’s frozen as you force a kiss on her to quiet her. Her eyes close and she leans back onto her back, allowing you to lay down beside her and hold her heavy frame in your arms. She locks her lips back to yours with haste, slipping her tongue in and playing it across yours. Hungrily, powerfully, she attacks the inside of your mouth. The mud from her body is smeared across you as she moves her hooves up and down your sides and back. It mixes with the oils and drizzles to collect between your spooning bodies. Your member stiffens again as she finds it with her hoof, and she eases onto her knees, opening her mouth and closing her eyes. You look at her, but she sits there, frozen like a statue, giving you no further prompting. Mindful of the slickness you’ve made amidst the tiles, you present your throbbing erection to her tongue.

Expertly, she slides her head down the shaft, gulping and slurping as she takes the entire thing on the first attempt. She pulls her head back and rams it none too gently down your glistening pole again, the hotness of her breath pouring up her throat and coating your cock in an unimaginable warmth. You settle your hands at the back of her head and the base of her neck, drawing out and thrusting. She coughs at the unexpectedness of it, eyes opening as her head attempts to jerk back but can’t. Entranced by the incredible sensation, you thrust in and out again, and she gulps hastily to avoid choking this time. Finally on this pull back, she manages to get her lips closed before you can press her again. She looks up at you out the corner of her eyes.
“You’re so rough... It’s... it’s not proper. Not at all. Did I work you up with that wrestling? I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can-”
You cut her speech off, ramming it back into her mouth. She gulps it down again and closes her eyes, her hooves reaching around and grabbing your legs as she relaxes. Reason surfacing for a moment you pause, but she’s on the offensive. She pushes your body forward with her hooked arms, forcing you back down her throat with a soft pleading moan. You resume thrusting, each push burying you in her mouth. She reaches a rhythm, gulping down the length of your dick each time you push it forward, so you begin to pull her head down as you thrust. The rough motions barely give her time to adjust, and she’s furiously swallowing you, throat working in overdrive to avoid choking. Finally she pushes with her hooves, dislodging herself from your advances.
“No... no more please. It’s so horribly degrading. I don’t think I can... Just let me use my hooves. Please?”
You walk up to her, hand stroking yourself furiously. She crawls toward you on her knees, belly swaying with each advancing step. Her tongue hangs out of her mouth.
“Yes, come now. Give me it. Give me all of it.”
Hand pumping hard on your rod, you grunt as you feel yourself starting to cum. The pressure builds up and you hold it as long as you can, finally coming in a series of streaking shots that land in her hair, on her face, in her mouth, across her chest, and down her swollen tummy. She starts to lick it off with her hooves, rolling on her back, rubbing the remainder into her already messy coat. You advance down onto her, pushing her lips back up against yours, and you both lie there for a few minutes in each other’s embrace.

Finally, her hoof taps your back. She sighs and nuzzles into your chest deeper as you look down at her. “I need to clean up. We both do. But I’m terribly hungry now. Could you be a dear?” You look at her, and then down at your body. Grumbling, you look around for your robe, not sure you’ll be allowed back into the hotel lobby in this state.
“There should be some showers in one of the doors out in the hall. Look for it, you won’t miss it.”
She eases back into the mudbath with a contented sigh, and you close the door behind yourself.

The showers are exactly where she said they’d be, and before long you’re soaped and shampooed. The scent of strawberries is strong, and you look wistfully about for more masculine alternatives. Seeing none, you get down to business, wondering what in Equestria you should bring her back to eat if the desserts of less than an hour ago didn’t do the trick. Settling on finding something more substantial, you dry off and slip back into the awkward fitting robe,making your way into the lobby of the hotel.

The change in temperature assaults your body immediately, and the scents of the spa finally leave you as you go in search of food. It takes a few minutes before your nose can pinpoint any scent other than strawberry or lavender. You find the food court on the second floor, overlooking the lobby and buffet. Standing in line, chills creeping up and down your back, you spot the spa-pony seated at a table. Unsure of whether or not she wants to be spoken to, you give her an awkward nod and try to stare holes in the menu on the wall. Finally you get a chance and order Rarity a rather large lunch; a sandwich, some hayfries, a large drink, two cookies, some onion rings, and a salad for a side. The bill is paid by the sparse amount you brought with you, and you awkwardly manage the enormous meal down the stairs and up to the door of the spa. It opens as you reach it, several ponies walking out and giving you a strange look, abandoning you to catch the swinging door with your foot and push your way in with your back and hips. As you rotate, you almost bump into your wife, walking out of the female pony’s showers.

She looks up at you and then at the load of food in your arms. “Did you get that for BOTH of us? Oh my goodness, it’s not all for me is it?” You manage a smile between determined grimaces, and her horn glows as she levitates a few of the dishes out of your hands.
She chances a look over her shoulder at the bathroom door. “Well then you’re lucky I just- I mean. Nevermind that! That’s none of your business, and it shan’t ever be.” She levitates the rest of the plates, blushing madly. More manageable now, you get the door to the private spa room you’ve both been sharing. The heat welcomes you back, and you steel yourself against the deceptive intoxication of all the scents and humidity that dominated you previously. You set the food by the edge of the pool of water, and notice a bucket of clean water has appeared where previously there was none.
“I got some water to wash our hooves and hands in, I do hope you don’t mind.”
You look at her suspiciously, before she rolls her eyes.
“According to you and Twilight and that... OTHER pony.... I can’t be in for long, so I was hoping this might cool my body briefly.”
You sigh, trusting her to be responsible rather than arguing with her, and ease your legs into the extraordinarily hot water. In the privacy of your spa room, she attacks the sandwich and salad, and they disappear in minutes. Laying on her back, hooves dangling in the water, she clears her throat. You ease into the water up to your waist, trying your best to adjust to it slowly.
She clears her throat again, and you look over your shoulder at her.
“My arms are tired after that wrestling bout. Act like a gentleman.”
She points a hoof at the basket of fries. You pick up a few and slip them into her waiting mouth, and she chews thoughtfully, rubbing her distended stomach.
“Some more, please.”
You repeat the motion. She swallows them and hangs out her tongue, eyes closed.
Another handful. You rub her stomach gently as she manages the entire basket with ease. Her thick haunches spread across the floor where they rest, legs splayed out, head tilted up waiting patiently for the next course of her meal. Her fat flanks rest in puddles of pony pudge around her as she reclines on her back, enormous cushy rear taking a great deal of her weight. You bring her drink to her lips, and she begins to drink it hastily.
“I have decided I would like my cookies now, rather than later.”
Your hands stop their rubbing and pick up the cookies, feeding them to her bite by bite as she sighs and moans contentedly. She shifts her weight over onto her side, looking at you as she finishes up her drink.
“You know, as much as I complain, you really are a gentleman in spades when it counts. I suppose I’ve gotten rather lucky.”
You bring the onion ring to her lips. She looks at you mischievously and pushes her mouth over the whole thing, taking it and biting it with relish. Her eyes water up and she starts coughing, spitting it out. “Hot! HOOOT!”
You look about and slide her the bucket of water she fetched earlier from the bathrooms. It’s heavy, a full sized iron pail, and she levitates it up, her face screwed up in agony and concentration at the heavy load. Moving to the edge of the bath, you hold it up for her, holding it to her lips as she gulps at its contents greedily. And gulp she does.
Once she begins, you feel her hooves on your hands, guiding them back. She continues to chug it for minutes on end, stomach stretching and distending until it’s resting on the floor between her legs. You hear her gasping for breath in the bucket as she continues her heavy drinking, hooves coming to rest on her stomach, rubbing it as the skin stretches tight and her legs spread to accommodate. Finally she pushes the bucket away, over three quarters of its contents empty. She stifles an enormous burp, blushing furiously and looking away as you burst out laughing. You marvel at the sheer amount of liquid she’s taken on, and you cuddle up to her stomach. It’s taut, stretching from her body and out to the edge of the spa bath nearly a foot and a half away from its origin point. Stomach reaching forward almost half her height, She looks like she could be pregnant with twins at this point, and despite her embarrassment she leans back, belly obviously aching at the sudden load. You pull her by the shanks toward you, taking an incredible amount of effort to move her heavier frame. Her hooves continue to gently caress that aching gut as you lay gentle kisses on it, fawning over her as you know she loves.

Sneaking a glance around the wall of pregnant stuffed pony stomach, you catch a glimpse of her happily smiling face. She knows your tastes, and she knows that you’re pleased right now. She eases her hooves into the water and playfully kicks little splashes of water up at you. Her words come in tired, sighing breaths.
“Where were you that time, prince charming? Feeding me such things without warning. Shame on you.”
You squeeze her flanks playfully in reply, glad to see her mood his improved and she’s back to enjoying herself on your visit.
“You know, I’m positively stuffed. Could you be a dear, have a good soak, and wake me in an hour or two?”
You relax into the water, letting it take you over the shoulders. Minutes turn to an hour, and you finally gain the courage to submerge your head. The water is incredibly hot, and washes over your face, drowning out your hearing and leaving you relatively weightless as you float in it for a moment before forcing your way back to the nearby surface. As you wipe water from your eyes, you catch her awake and studying you. You grin and spit a bit of water from your lips at her.

“Oh no! No! NO!”
She flicks her tail, sending water splashing at you, your hands not up quickly enough to deflect the sudden attack. In reprisal, you scoop up handfuls of water, throwing them on her. She giggles as she tries in vein to move her enormous body out of the way.
“You fiend! You ruffian! Vagabond!”
With each nickname she slaps more water at you with her tail, trying like a turtle on its back to find her hooves. It’s a futile effort, you can see as much from where you’re standing. Even if she got to her hooves, you have to imagine her stomach, so swollen with food and drink, would be nearly on the ground, and she would be left immobile. You grab her by the legs and slide her on her back until she’s at the edge of the water, her laughter echoing off the empty room as she swats you with her tail to try and find release. “No! I’m not ready, it’s too hot!”
With a playful and girlish squeal she slips into the bath. You reach around for her, afraid she’ll surely burn her skin going in that quickly, but she surfaces with a mouthful of water and blows it into your face. Protected by her thicker hide and fur, she seems at relative ease in the water, and realization dawns on you that it was probably drawn so hot with thicker skinned ponies in mind. She looks at your pruned hands, held up to fend off her attack, and bursts out laughing again.
“I am married to the most interesting man in the world. Easily. The only man in this world, but the most interesting one nonetheless. You, my dear, are such a perfect specimen.”
She kicks over to you and rests her hooves on you, treading water in the small pool with her back legs. You can stand here up to your shoulders, and do so, holding her up above the water with a smile. Her lips press gently against yours, and it’s wet and tastes of the bath salts and water. She kisses you with a smile on her face, happy to share a moment so tender after the emotional rollercoaster of the day. Her hoof plays across your chest and she breaks from the kiss. Your face is near hers, and you sniff her mane.

The strawberry shampoo of the bathroom showers fills your nose, mingled with the vanilla of the bath salts. Memories of days when you picked strawberries together in Ponyville while you were dating return to you, the scent of her boutique afterward as you washed them and laid them out to dry, the passionate love you made with them resting on a table by her bed filling the room. She smells luxurious now, and despite her matted and damp hair, she carries herself with the air of a princess in the way she looks up at you with big rounded eyes. Freed from the weight of her body in the water, she kicks a circle happily before returning to your arms, where you pull her up until her shoulders are above the water. Her back hooves cease treading water, and play across your waist and crotch gently.

“You know... I was going to hold back until tonight... but if you promise not to tell anyone, I’m sure we can figure out how to...”
You scoop her up in the water, walking toward the steps by the edge of the tiny pool. You come out of the water before she does, and you take the fullness of her weight in your arms, forcing yourself to do so without a sign of struggle.
“Oh you needn’t... I mean... wasn’t the masseuse right? Aren’t I terribly heavy?”
You steal a kiss from her and she smiles at you.
“So dashing. My perfect knight. Here. Set me in the water. I want to do it in the water.”
You ease her into the shallow water on the steps and set her on her back. Here the water barely crests over half her stomach, and as long as she cranes her neck, she’s above its surface.The change in temperature has you shivering, and she hooks her hooves around your back and pulls you into her warm body and coat.
Up close to her you share a kiss, navigating her swollen stomach awkwardly as you lift her bottom half out of the water and begin to lick at her. You hear her hooves splashing the water as she struggles for something to grip on the smooth pool bed.
“Don’t tease too long. I... I want it.”
You push your tongue deeper, swirling it around inside her, licking in and out until the wetness within is her own.
“I want iiiiit.”
You slip two fingers in, checking to see how well lubricated she is. Carefully, you stir up her insides until the fingers are sticky and wet. Her breathing has picked up, and she has to gasp out her words.
“I. Want. It!”
Her back hooves flail as you slip a third finger in, lubricant finally flowing to your satisfaction as you tease her clit with your tongue.
“Ohhh... ohhh yes!” Her moans echo off the sides of the pool, water splashing about as you move your thick manhood to her lower lips. The tip presses against it gently, and you lick one of your fingers.
“Don’... tha’s... diiiirty.”
She slurs the words out as you slip yourself into her tight, waiting body. Still managing to hold her lower half up with your spare hand, you slide your slickened ring finger into the hole below her womanhood. She kicks her legs again.
“Nnnnnhhh. There. THERE!”
You lower her into the water, finger still in her ass, manhood still pushed into her. The steps allow you a frontal access that has been denied to you for months, and despite the slowing effect of the water, you can tell the new angle pleases her. She hasn’t gotten you any way other than her hooves or on her side in at least five months. The intimacy of the position allows you to kiss her while you’re inside her.

Her lips attack yours furiously, each thrust causing her to nibble gently on your tongue. She moans into your mouth, and you continue to thrust at her with all your effort. Sweat and water cling to you, the heat driving you senseless quickly. You wiggle your finger inside of her, pushing against the wall you know separates it from your thrusting cock. She yelps and moans as you continue to assault her most sensitive places. Furiously she tries to break from your kiss as you continue to push against her lips. Desperately, she turns her head to the side, forcing your lips onto her cheek as she tries to manage words. “Nnn... Nnnnnnnnoooo. Stopp, you’ll make meeee... nnnnnnooooo!”
Her last word rises in a shrill moan and you watch the water around her change colour slightly.
“Tooo...” She pants and you force her lips back onto yours. She attacks your mouth with her tongue, bucking her hips against your cock, hooves wrapped around the arm belonging to your invading hand and forcing it deeper. After a few seconds she breathlessly pulls back, managing
“Too much water.... I... I can’t believe I...” You withdraw your finger and lift her up and set her on the edge of the bath, kneeling on the steps as you pound her. The sound of your thighs hitting her haunches fills the room, loud clapping noises that echo off the walls and up to the glass ceiling. You spread her legs more, working in and out of her like a piston, feeling yourself reaching climax. Around you, she tightens and loosens, her body rocking as she orgasms. On cue, you orgasm too, filling her insides with your cum. The load isn’t as fierce as earlier, still spent from the incredible amount you produced. When you’re finished and pull out, her lower body is two gaping holes, flexing and attempting to close themselves as she pants for release. She grabs the bucket of cold water and pours it on herself before shaking her wet coat off.
“Can you... grab us a towel? I do believe it’s time to settle in for a nap.”
You look up at the sun coming in through the glass roof and shrug. If she wants to take a nap, it seems like a good time. You slap her on the butt as you dry off and she gasps and grabs your arm with her tail, turning to confront you with a mock-angry look in her eyes.
“Oh I hope you know the evening you’re earning for yourself right now.”
You look down at her innocently, forcing a frown. She bursts out laughing and wiggles her nose up against your stomach. You kneel down to her level and she rubs your nose with hers. Helping her into her robe, you exit the steamy room and enter the cold hotel lobby, eagerly awaiting an afternoon of cuddling in warm soft bedsheets with the pony you love in your arms.

Chapter 7

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-Part 7: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Anal Sex, Denial, Fisting, Minor foodplay, High Drama, Outdoors, Large Weight

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Ahead of you your wife's indigo tail bobs slowly up and down. You can hear her on the trail above you, puffing gently as she struggles to maneuver it. Behind her, you follow at a short distance, ready to catch her should she lose her footing on the gentle incline. Of course, the gentleman's gesture is more dangerous than you'd care to admit as you drink in her thick jiggling haunches and enormous body. You're fairly certain her weight would take both of you a long way before you'd have any hope of stopping, but the precious foal in her womb inspires you to work doubly hard and press that risk far to the back of your mind. She turns her head every now and then to make sure you're behind her, craning her neck with much difficulty to see around her rotund posterior.

The “walk” had been Twilight's idea, of course. You'd headed over to get Rarity's routine checkup out of the way and ended up spending much of the morning pandering to the purple unicorn's insecurities. Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had gone off on one of their prank-filled “play-dates”, a term Twilight had used with more bitterness than you'd thought possible of the normally level headed pony. With as much jealousy as it was inspiring in the lavender magician, it had only been a matter of time until your overly generous spouse had been hard at work baking with her. It had been over the cookies and brownies that Twilight had remarked on Rarity's need for exercise, a suggestion she had somehow raised with miraculous tact as your prim and proper partner had polished off the last of the pecan pie they had baked.

Of course, no matter how kindly the suggestion had been put, Rarity had still blushed furiously at the implications. With more than a little trouble, she had finished swallowing the cookie she had been in the process of eating, the wafer seeming to get stuck in her throat. Still, once pressed, you'd had to very subtly agree with Twilight. While the sight of your wife's ever thickening body was boner inspiring, delivering a foal at her weight might prove difficult unless she was in the proper shape. So it had been that walking was suggested, and in no time at all, you'd walked to the base of the mountains around Ponyville.

You're not sure how she'd managed to take the comments so personally, but she'd trudged onward and up the mountain despite your assumption that it would prove too difficult for her. Even now you hear her grumbling ahead of you with a small air of frustration and bitterness. A small trickle of rocks escapes her hooves, and you brace yourself ready to catch her as she regains her footing. She steals a glance over her shoulder and glares slightly.

“Look at you. I'm not so bad off that I need rescuing from such a... minor incline as this. Why, in my prime, I saw to the protection of Equestria. I climbed this mountain to drive away a dragon, I'll have you know.”
She pants slightly as she stubbornly pushes forward, pride getting the better of her common sense as she carefully deviates from the trail. Her muttering continues to assault your ears in the quiet of the overcast afternoon.

“Honestly, the nerve of you both. Both of you encouraging me to do... THIS. And now you're complaining, positively WHINING. About the effects. I didn't see you whining as you stuffed me senseless the other night, though. You were singing QUITE the different tune then. Oh yes. How did that tune go? It was so baritone, so throaty. A regular chorus of manly grunts with every THRUST as I recall.”

Her voice is level and even as she reaches a stop off point. Next to her, an old tree stands defiantly against the cliffside, path winding on past it. The entire area is reminiscent of a bowl that empties out in the path you just came from. Somewhere above and ahead of you, you can hear running water. The sound is overpowered momentarily by the loud flop of her body as she heaves onto her side panting, accumulated body heat finally having nowhere to go as she rests. The immensity of her stomach pools out next to her, a firm balloon in a river of excess pudge. Her glare softens as her eyes lid and she tries to catch her breath. Worried she's overdone it, you hurry over to her side, offering her the bottle of water you brought to share. As she drinks from it, she tries to manage a glare out the corner of her eye at you, but gives up.

Next to her you slump against the tree, looking warily at it as you do so. Even discounting the autumn chill, it looks nearly dead. It's possible it hasn't seen water in a little while, at least since last spring. It's certainly nothing like the trees you might climb during your trips to the forests around Ponyville, gnarled and barely hanging onto the mountainside it grows out of. Thankful you've no cause to climb it, you content yourself with leaning against it until her harrumphs call your attention to her.

She points up the mountainside to where you hear the water running from.

“Up there. When we get there, you're going to tend to me. A lady needs her... exercise. If you win, we'll turn around and go back. If not, we simply -must- exercise more.”

She's panting, obviously still out of breath, but she hurries past you all the same. Scooping up the water bottle, barely a moment to catch your breath, you follow her galloping body past the tree and up the hill before you. It's quite some distance to the top, a few moment's work to navigate the trough like path. On both sides of you the mountain sweeps upward, pushing you up through the small valley and through the large collection of loose stones. Ahead of you, you watch in shock as she picks up the pace. Heavy frame aside, she's still a pony, built for running and endurance. Your longer legs and easier stride give you a small leg up, but you still find yourself being outdistanced halfway up. You put on speed, bursting into a sprint that carries you close to her back before slowing down. You've no intention of overtaking her even if you weren't interested in her offer; someone needs to be behind her to catch her if she falls.

She crests the lip of it before you do, cheering and giggling.

“I win! I win I win I win!”

She rears up on her back legs with much effort and kicks her front ones happily. You catch up, thanking the heavens for the gray cloudcover and cool breeze at this elevation. Here the grass is more thick, growing in abundance by the pooled water collecting on the cliffside. You look down and see your own path, searching for the trail you were meant to be following. After a few moments of careful examination, you spot it. Down the mountain past your detour it meets a cave before winding far up around your current location and out of sight. You feel a nudge against the back of your hand and look behind you. Her azure eyes narrow as you drink her bulky body in. She knows what you're looking at and takes a step back, turning a full circle and a half. She looks at you with a pout over her shoulder, hips poised, meaty haunches jiggling with the aftershock of the momentum.

“Oh just be honest. Do you like all of this, or don't you? It's not a hard question. Just tell me.”

You try to choose your words carefully. Of course you love her like this, but the concern for her safety and the safety of your little foal... The answer pains you as you try to think of a way to phrase it, knowing she enjoys being pampered and fed just as much as you enjoy doing it. She gives up on waiting for an answer as you try to piece one together.

“I understand it, Darling. I do. You want what's best for both of us. For all of us. But I'm thinking ahead of that. After the baby... will we continue on like we have been?”
You tilt your head, honestly never having considered that future. The past few weeks have been an oddity, exploring your relationship with her in daring leaps and bounds. Even discounting your recent experimental excursions, you've done more together in the past week than you have in years, deciding it was getting close enough to her delivery date that it was time to take off from work to be with her constantly. Although you've still got over a month to go by anyone's math, renovations on the boutique have finished, and you've squirreled away enough on savings to press on together until then.

It had been a mistake of course, in its own way, to spend so much time with her. At a loss for anything else to do in your home together, you'd quickly fallen to the tasks she'd normally done. During the day you'd cleaned and moved your things back into the Boutique and out of the apartment you'd shared. During the evening you'd come home to her long day of lounging about and cooked her large meals until she shouldn't manage to eat anymore. After a week's time, the routine was well established. Bringing her meals to her sunken spot on your sofa, her hind legs dangling over the edge, body spilling out and flowing in all directions; waiting patiently for her to break down mid-meal and ask for your other attentions. On the eve before your trip to visit Twilight, she'd laid on her back and found that her stomach forced her legs apart on its own. She'd giggled as you'd rubbed it and lifted it out of the way to get to her.

Now she practices the same, looking up at you invitingly as she performs her new trick. She slowly eases onto her side before rolling onto her back in the grass. On her back, her stomach spills between her spread legs, hips widened from carrying her weight for so long. She locks her eyes onto yours with an optimistic smile. You lift aside the softness that is her rolls of fat surrounding the expanse of her pregnant firmness, finding her incredibly moist already. Her proposal sounds enticing, but will you really have time to carry on with a child to look after? You ponder the possibilities as you examine her.

“If you're not going to do anything, don't do it. Help me up then. You can come back to it when I've shed a dozen or so pounds.”

You risk a glance at her and find a deep crimson blush has crept into her coat as she looks away from you, teeth grinding defiantly. You decide to shock her by suddenly slipping a finger in. She stiffens, always surprised at the power of your probing digits. Beside you, she moans gratefully.

“Nnn... THAT's more like it. More.”
You slide the second one in, flexing and curling them inside her as she grips and lifts at her stomach.

“More. Give me MORE.”
Your third finger wiggles into her and she desperately pulls her expansive gut aside.

“Both. You need both of those... your... hands.”
Her voice drops to a husky purr at the last word, unable to resist placing the emphasis on one of her favorite parts of you. You cock an eyebrow at her nonetheless. She's never managed more than four fingers. Her body, while heavy, is still smaller than yours. The frame is roughly three and a half feet tall by four feet long. Four fingers is an accomplishment, eight would be an impossibility. You open your mouth to protest, but her voice comes out a harsh growl.

“Give. Me. Them. Now!”
She swats at your face with her tail until you carefully force the fourth finger into her, looking at her womanhood with renewed skepticism. Past four fingers, the largest thing you've managed is the rod that is even now stiff and fighting to escape your jeans... You don't want to hurt her. Carefully, you lower your face to her clit, licking and playing at it, hoping to coax out more lubricant if you're to play her game. Your head is forced down suddenly into her moist lower body, stomach enveloping you and blocking out the light from above as she loses her grip in surprise. Around you, you feel her shaking and writhing. You can hear her hooves clawing at the grass. From your awkward and muffled place under her, you attack her clitoris with renewed enthusiasm, hoping she's forgotten about her absurd request and settled on your generous compromise. Inside her, you flex your hand back and forth, feeling the walls of her slickening and tightening. She cums around your hand, her insides flooding with glistening juices. From your position, the sudden assault on your senses is impossible to manage. Air is having difficulty escaping, the scent of her fills your nose and lungs, and your sense of taste is nearly overpowered. Hooves grab your shoulders and help you out from under her.

“I... You... you cheated.”
You look at her helplessly, trying to catch your breath in the fresh air. She pouts at you.

“I want them all. I want them all RIGHT NOW.”
You shake your head pleadingly, and she rolls over, struggling to her hooves and pushing her butt into the air.

“I don't care what it takes. Do it. Do more than you've done before.”
You look at your hands, each one easily capable of covering her small chubby face. You grip her flank with one, hand disappearing into its pillowy depths until your bright wedding band is concealed entirely in marshmallowy softness, reluctantly sliding the other one into her finger by finger. She moans with the entry of each one. Still, upon the entry of the fourth, you can see her stretched to the width of anything imaginably comfortable. She wiggles around you, adjusting enough to speak.

“Come now, do something... please do something?”

You fold your thumb and bite your lip, hoping it's not too much as you slide your hand into her up to the wrist. As it goes in, she folds and buckles around you. When you clench your fist inside her, she pulls you to the ground as she flops onto her side, unable to hold herself up. She manages nothing, not even a moan or whimper, but around your hand she flexes and kicks. You push forward gently until you feel the boundaries of her comfortable zones before slowly withdrawing up to the knuckles. Now the moan comes out, loud and shrill. Around you, she tries desperately to get onto her back again. She grips the grass around her with her hooves, and you help ease her into a reclined position.
“Need... need more. So full. Put more in.”
You look at her as if she's gone insane. Her eyes, half lidded, play about the sky, only managing to settle on your face for a few seconds at a time before rolling back again.
“Need MORE. The other spot... your... it's... put it in.”
One of her back legs nudges your crotch hopefully, pushing and rubbing against the erection struggling inside its denim prison. She growls at you from behind her fleshy barrier.
“More. MORE. Put.... it... in me.”
You look down, knowing you're in entirely the wrong position for such a request. The lack of lubricant would make it appallingly painful, and you're forced to conclude that her judgment is too far gone at this point. You gently withdraw your hand, prompting a squeal of pleasure and lust from her mouth. You fall back into a sitting position to try to come up with a plan, but she's fast. She crawls across the grass with as much care as she can manage to her stomach, finding your lips with hers almost instantly.

Her breath fills your mouth, the taste of the bottled water and her drying mouth begging forward your gentler and moistened tongue. You oblige, slipping it into her mouth and licking about the inside of it for her. She breaks the kiss after a few minutes and looks up at you, sanity seeming to return to those sapphire pools. You wait for her apology. “Ah... I know it's...” She looks at the ground and back at you awkwardly.

“You're going to manage to get it in, right?”

You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, dear. It's... you're thinking it too. When the baby gets here, we won't get the time to... experiment. I want that feeling before it's too late. The feeling of the fullness only you can provide.”

Something rubbing against your pants draws your attention to the raging hardon you've been keeping in check. She's got a hoof halfway down your jeans now, thick legs fumbling against the tightness of the waistband. You unbuckle your belt to make her descent easier, and she manages to brush up against it.

“I'll get it good and slick, so you'll do it, right? Only you can do it, you know? I've waited my whole life to find you, you know... my whole life. Several others come and gone before I found you, my perfect man. I don't want to miss out on anything. We've so much to try. Only you can do it.”

You smile at her straightforwardness, and it prompts her eyes to light up. She slides down your chest, laying kisses on you over your shirt until she reaches your pants. She unbuttons them, freeing your manhood to the chilled air. She wastes no time in wrapping her lips around it, throat hard at work to slicken it. Before long it's coated in her saliva, but she's not done yet. She takes to her hooves and unceremoniously drops herself onto you, sliding your thickness into her love tunnel unexpectedly.

“You can't lose it here, understand? It's just insurance to...”
You buck your hips to interrupt her, and she moans and bites her lip.
“Nnn... no. Musn't lose sight of...”
You thrust again, and tease her stomach with your hands.
“Ah... so much... so...”
She clenches down and furiously begins to push herself up and down, working her heavy frame masterfully on your shaft. In a matter of seconds she's shaking and shuddering, orgasm rocking her. You know her body all too well – difficult to get the first time out, but a simple matter to make her cum again after. She's at that threshold now, the slightest teasing sending her back into ecstasy. She slides off with a great deal of effort, huffing and breathing heavily into the grass her head is resting on. With the last of her strength, she pushes her backside into the air, flicking her tail aside invitingly. You approach cautiously.

It's not easy to loosen her ass at this point. You end up using your fingers, still slick with her juices, to loosen her gently. After a couple minutes' work and her own efforts at regrouping and relaxing, you're confident you can manage her there. The difficult task of filling her womanhood goes easier than you'd expected however, and before long you're daring to squirm yourself up to the wrist again. She's begging at this point, promising you absurdities if you'll only give her the rest.

“Anything... put it in... I'll do... anything. All day, anywhere. You can tie me to the bed. Use me for days... Stuff me until I can't move. Fill me with babies and your... I'll give you anything. Just... this... give me this.”
As you slide into her, you need none of her encouragement. The feeling is intense and absurd. You swear you can actually feel the bulge of your fist against your erection with each thrust. It's difficult and awkward to manage, but soon she's working her hips and clenching herself around you. You work your hand and your penis as a pistoning pair, and she alternates which area she clenches and relaxes. Soon the difficulty is too much for her to manage however, and both grow slacker and more comfortable to navigate. You choose this moment to increase your pace, and she melts into the ground, face thrashing about in the grass and moans escaping the divots her horn and nose are digging into the soft earth. Inside her, you wiggle your fingers, twisting your hand in varying directions as you pump it in and out of her.

Mud coats the front of her face and you hear her scream that she's cumming. The warning is an unusual signal for her, she loathes the term. You feel her tighten around your hand and liquid assaults your wrist, squirting out in an arc from inside her onto the grass behind you. The stream is powerful, coating your shirt and spurting with varying degrees of pressure before settling to a drip. She ceases moving and you pump into her ass experimentally. A small groan comes out with the thrust and you try again. The groan repeats. She's still conscious. She can still feel the pleasure you're giving her.

Abandoning all pretense of control, you pound into her. The thick rolls of her haunches ripple and clap with each thrust of flesh on flesh. Below her, her stomach touches the ground, jiggling furiously with each clash of your bodies. Her groans become one long, low, unbroken note. You reach out with your free hand, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back so that her face is out of her hooves with a series of gentle tugs. She obliges, managing to get her neck up. The moan is louder now that it's not muffled, and you can hear its pitch sliding up and down depending on your position inside her. You feel her tail wrap around your torso, pulling you down until your chest rests on her back. Tremendous heat is coming off of her, and you use the position of her broad back to give more force to your thrusts.

The thunderous noises of your bodies colliding almost drowns out the noises she's making as you grit your teeth, groaning into her back, stamina finally spent. You find yourself about to cum as she wriggles free and manages to swing around, mouth open. Your hand drops instinctively and finishes pumping as you burst across her face in long sticky shots. Her tongue hangs out greedily, lips smacking with each sample of her favorite treat. The orgasm clouds out everything – the chafing of the denim of your jeans on your knees, the drops of rain falling on your forehead, the smell of freshly wet grass – how long has it been raining? You slump down next to her, and she falls onto her side, panting and snuggling up to you as the rain drizzles gently over both of you. Somewhere, distantly, thunder rolls, and cuddled against her warm coat you drop slowly into a blissful nap.

The thunder clap that wakes you is far from distant. You sit up, immediately alert, and she's stiff next to you. Around you, the wind has picked up. The rain is picking up now too, finally being carried on the wind around the bit of mountain that was sheltering the two of you. You're sure a storm wasn't scheduled for today, but it's come nonetheless. The previously overcast sky is dark and ominous now, and in the distance you can see lightning breaking over where Ponyville would be. You lick your finger to check the direction of the wind, finding your mouth still surprisingly dry from the play of earlier. The remainder of her taste assaults your tongue, and you hold the finger up. Wind's coming toward you, which means the dark clouds are also. Next to you, Rarity has taken to her hooves.

“Oh this is simply dreadful! Just where has it come from? Twilight didn't mention a storm!”

The wind picks up again, colder than you remembered it, pushing her messed hair across her still dirty face. She wipes the hair from her eyes as the rain's pace increases. She looks around nervously, another roll of thunder sounding closer than the last.

“We've not much time before it's here... we should... we should go.”

You scoop up the water bottle nearby and together the two of you navigate the path down. In minutes you're assaulted by heavy sheets of rain from around the side of the mountain. The wind is carrying it easily now, and the trail is becoming muddy and difficult to manage. You search for secure places to move between, constantly positioning yourself between your wife and the treacherous trail below. Beside you, water and mud begin to run down around your feet, sticking into your shoes and soaking your socks and feet. Each step squishes inside your shoe, and each placement of your foot splashes mud up your pants leg. Behind you, she's positively beside herself with worry.

“My coat! My poor hooves! Oh no, nonono! My hair! It's so nasty, why did we come up here? Why?!”

The last why is punctuated with a sharp shriek and you whip around expecting the worst. She's on her side, mud running around her, having lost her footing but still fairly secure. You slog up through the mud to check on her, and discover that she's started crying.

“Oh I didn't want any of this... please make it go away... please... It's all a dream, we're still up there napping!”

You help her to her feet as the mud and water around you picks up. Her beautifully groomed ivory coat is now splotched with mud, and her back is soaking wet and covered in dust and twigs. Your pants aren't faring much better, and you're certain your shoes are ruined at this point. Above you, you hear an ominous rumble, and loose rocks and debris begin to float down amid the water and mud. You look about hopefully for a more level area, and lead her off your makeshift path up against the valley wall. Below you, you can see the water pooling up in the bowl shaped area the two of you had rested in earlier. The path beyond it has become blocked and clogged with loose debris, flooding the bowl until the waterline is halfway up the frail tree's trunk. You kneel down to get a better grip on Rarity as the fast flowing muck runs around the two of you.

You hear the oncoming tide before you see it. It makes a strange noise, an odd gurgling and rumbling. On the plateau you had both occupied you can see water has collected and begun to overflow the pond. Your position makes sense now, you're in the once dried bed of a mountain river. It's coming to life once more now, collected debris cleaning out. The mud is almost entirely diluted in the oncoming movement, and you can see more places up the mountain past your makeshift rest area where the river continues, filling with water that will soon be down on top of the pair of you. The mocha colored onslaught of your hours ago safe haven reaches you with tremendous force.

Your center of gravity is higher, and so despite your bipedal physiology, the tide doesn't sweep you very far. Up to your knees at first before slapping your belt line and pushing you a few steps back, you gain your bearings quickly and look around for Rarity. You feel a tug at your leg, and see her clinging to your back, water over her shoulders, barely keeping her head up. You risk turning at the waist to pull her around in front of you, using your body to brace her and keep her in place. She looks around wildly, joining in the search for an escape route. The rocky walls around you catch your eye, and you're certain you can see where the water level usually reaches. It's over your head, and that's far from a good thing.

You stand there braced for as long as you can manage, legs aching with the effort of keeping the two of you in place against the fast moving river of liquid. The other various bodies of water up the mountain are beginning to connect with yours, and the pace of the water is increasing as the pressure behind it grows. Before long you're regularly being challenged with waves that flow over your shoulders, and it's a particularly large one that dislodges you from your precarious position. Your battle here is lost, and you scoop her up into your arms against your chest, floating and walking awkwardly down to the bowl from before.

The water is up to your neck here,with waves commonly pushing over your face and head as the place continues to flood. Struggling, you try to lift her over your head to safety, but find your limbs too exhausted to manage the task. Your joints scream at you from their constant abuse, your muscles ache and your eyes sting from the mud that keeps splashing into them. You try to shout to her over the torrent of rain and wind, but your mouth fills with muddy water and you're left sputtering. A particularly large wave of water crests over you, and the two of you are forced under into the dark depths.

Your hands grope blindly, finding a handful of what you pray is her hair. Kicking with all your might to the surface, you pull yourself up and suck in lungfuls of air. Your spare hand grabs one of the tree's branches above you, but the combined weight of yourself and Rarity is too much and it snaps off in your hand, sending both of you momentarily back under. This time she's kicking back to the surface with you, and doubt begins to enter your mind. This could be it. As you break the surface you look up the mountain, seeing the connecting rivers flowing with more force now, knowing it's only a matter of time until your bowl is out of standing reach. You look at her, and she grips your hand tighter with her hoof, other legs paddling furiously to stay afloat. She's not in the right shape for this, she'll be under before long, and she's not as tall as you. You're not sure if she can hear the three precious words you try to shout to her, your voice is drowned out from your own ears by the wind whipping through your ears as the violent gale picks up its pace around you. She tilts her head, frowns, and tries to shout something back, but you take a deep breath and close your eyes, letting go of her hoof and slipping under the murky surface.

Your vision is gone, and your hearing is barely effective. Under the soupy waters, you can faintly hear the rain drumming above you on the surface. You calculate as best you can, taking a step forward as you stoop down, feet planting on the ground, hands groping above you until you find her body. It feels like her haunches, and you push up with your legs, meeting the fullness of her weight with your shoulders and arms. Your legs do most of the pushing, and your ploy succeeds, she's out of the water. You take a staggering step back towards what you hope is the tree. You can feel her fumbling around above you, and slowly her weight recedes from your shoulders. Your lungs ache and you start to lose your sense of direction as your feet kick off the ground. Are you going at an angle? Straight up? Where is the tree? You open your eyes as a last resort, but darkness consumes your vision. A couple more kicks of your legs and you surface near the tree. Your hands wipe insistently at your eyes, and slowly your vision returns.

She's up in the tree as you'd hoped, awkwardly perched in the midst of its branches close to its trunk. On any other day, a pony in a tree would possibly be the oddest sight you'd ever see, but at this moment you offer thanks to the heavens that she can manage her bulk among such unfamiliar circumstances. She leans forward, trying to extend her hoof without compromising her awkward position. You shake your head. The tree can't possibly fit the both of you, it's a miracle it's holding her. Hefty pony though she is, your sheer size and musculature would at least double its burden. She shouts at you as you cling to the side of the trunk, treading water as long as you can manage.

“Take my hoof! Please!”

You shake your head, mouth opening to shout back, waves choking you with water and mud and leaving you spitting. Numbness is setting into your arms now, and your legs feel weak and old. You find the adrenaline that inspired your feat of strength receding, and leaving behind it exhaustion and cramping. Slowly your fingertips cramp, and your joints cry to be released. You try to alternate which hand does the holding, flexing the other. She's safe, and with her your unborn foal. You smile up at her encouragingly as she keeps her hoof outstretched to you.

“Stop it! Stop that! It's stupid, you're stupid! You're the greatest idiot in the world! What will I do without you? What will WE do without you! Get up here, now!”

You feel hotness stinging your eyes, thinking about how dearly you want to see your little unicorn grow up. The thought inspires you to look around once more for some means of escape, some distant manner of effectively aiding your survival. How has this tree survived here if the water runs so deeply when the river flows? The short answer is that it can't possibly do so, and your eyes catch the clogged outlet of the bowl. It's a long shot, but those odds are all you've got left. You hook your foot around the trunk of the tree for a moment and start to flex and relax your hands, trying to inspire any remaining circulation in your fingers and arms that you can. From above you, she changes the course of her shouting.

“What are you DOING?! You can't!”

You risk a deep gulp of breath before plunging under, traversing the expected eight to nine meters quickly before surfacing against the debris. Tree branches, rocks, some damp clumps of grass and leaves all block your path. There's nothing to grip onto to dislodge them, so you start at the top, tossing branches and rocks up and over the barrier. The work lasts for several minutes, and you find the water running a little more easily, but the large clumps that make up the majority of the blocking are beneath the water's surface and far from any place you can manage. You wince as your thigh cramps up and you're left clinging to the very barrier you were trying to destroy to keep yourself above water. The looser rocks slip away in your hands, and you tumble back into the water. Your hand gropes above the surface desperately as you sink lower and lower.

The bitter coldness assaults your throat, too shocked to keep your mouth closed. With a reflexive gasp, you've unintentionally breathed in an entire lungful of water, and the result it has on your system is catastrophic. Your lungs spasm, trying to force it out, only to let more in. Your eyes water and force themselves open only to be stung by the bitterly cold filth around you, and your still surfaced hand clenches desperately about. The fact that it should have sunken into the water long ago escapes your primal state of consciousness, everything fades to white around you as that surfacing feeling spreads up your arm and around your body.

Your eyes are blinded by brilliant lavender and white light, and the water around your body explodes away from you, dropping you unceremoniously onto your back on the slick exposed ground. You cough up lungfuls of water, throat retching, stomach heaving. You vomit twice before your eyes allow themselves to open, and you're greeted by walls of floating water on all sides. Through your blurry vision you see incredible light pushing the water back, giving you more dry land to work with. You choke and almost vomit again, spitting out more water and mud. It's just too much to take in, you're sure you're dead, but the barricade of rocks and branches you were trying to move defiantly greets your back as you take a stumbling step backward, laid bare by powerful magic that's forcing the water away from you as you move.

Furious with the barrier, with yourself, with your circumstances, you kick at it. It gives slightly, and your mind snaps back into place. You're not sure how it's happening, but you're being given a chance to save yourself. A chance to save your life, and your future with your wife and child. You grit your teeth and slam your whole body against the wall, pushing loose dozens of smaller rocks and branches. You flop onto your back after the impact, but kick your legs up and push hard against the wall with them. Slowly, painstakingly, the rocks tumble about from their stacked positions. The resulting collapse happens in all directions, including your own. Debris tumbles over your face and water follows it, engulfing you and smashing aside the barrier before you. Loosely conscious, your body floats along the surface of the running water and you hear a heavy splash behind you. Rarity kicks madly toward you, horn still glowing like a lantern with residual magic. She clamps her teeth onto your collar as soon as she reaches, fighting to keep both of you afloat as you're carried down the mountainside.

You regain your senses in slow waves of consciousness, and as the clouds in your mind recede you do what your body instinctively tells you to do, attempting to stand. To your surprise the water is shallow by your standards, it's not difficult to stand, and you reach out with another wave of recognition just in time to snatch her up by the mane as she's almost carried past you. You wade over to the edge of your river and heave her onto the bank, senses slowly recognizing the proper path you both should have taken. You're not trusted to pull yourself onto the shore; her tail is around your chest in seconds and she's dragging you up and out of the current with wild screams.

On the shore you crawl further inland together for what seems like an eternity before flopping down, out of breath and heaving desperately in relative safety. Above you the rain mercilessly drives into your bodies, and the cold wind bites into your soaked skin. You shiver and your teeth chatter, beside you she's gone limp and her breathing has become shallow. She's expended almost all of her energy doing more than a unicorn of her caliber could ever conceivably do, but she's saved both of your lives. You grit your teeth determinedly, remembering the cave on the path you'd spotted earlier and stooping down to lift her into an awkward and unceremonious shoulder carry. It’s a difficult position, but it’s the only one your drained body can manage that spares her stomach any of her own weight. Your back protests and your shoulders ache as you take each incredibly heavy footstep up the path, hoping you're going in the right direction.

By some incredible stroke of luck, you stumble across the entrance to the cavern after only a few minutes and slide her down off your back into it, sheltered from the elements. Knowing you're not out of danger yet, you shake her as hard as you can, trying to wake her incase she needs to run. It pains you to wake her so soon, but it's entirely possible that something lives in the place you're hoping to hold out in, and the mountains aren't the most safe place to camp without warning or preparation. Her eyes slowly lid open, and she groans at you, head bobbing up to meet your gaze doggedly.

“Where... where are we? Did we make it?”

You nod encouragingly and she squirms toward you, settling for embracing your leg. She yawns against her own volition and she tries to get her bearings.

“That’s... s’good. We home now? Looks like a cave.”

She takes to her hooves uncertainly, and you reach out and grab her, helping her steady herself.

“I see... Need to check the back... come on then...”

You're about to warn her, to tell her to wait there, but her horn glows once more from the most basic of unicorn magic and the cave is bathed in light. It's shallow, but the remains of something's bed coat the corner of it. You approach it as her light slowly flickers to dimmer and weaker shades, checking it for signs of recent activity. It looks old, and you scoop up the brittle pieces of sticks and twigs, along with some larger branches, bringing them to the mouth of the cave. The shivering is rocking both of your bodies now, and you pull her close to you, wringing out your wet shirt and using it to towel her off. She grits her teeth and a small spark emanates from her horn, more basic magics. The effort drains the last of her reserves, and you're left blowing gently on the bundle of twigs until smoke and a flicker of fire rise from them.

You feed the fire one of your bigger branches, and the dry wood crackles and roars. Resting your shirt over her shoulders and back, you exit the mouth of the cave, looking for something nearby to build the fire up with. A stump catches your eye, likely dead, certainly damp from the rainfall trickling off of nearby rocks. You uproot it with a bit of effort and heft it back in. She's on her side now, blowing gently on the fire to keep it going, feeding it more of your small branches. She looks up at you with a beaten smile, exhaustion creeping into her features and putting bags under her eyes that catch the light of the fire in sunken shadows that play across her still damp face. You can hear her trying to mask the sound of her teeth chattering, and despite your desire to ease her suffering you don't feel much better.

You strip the damp bark off the tree trunk you rescued and very carefully place it over your fire, hoping it will catch as you join her in blowing on it from the other end. Soot kicks up on both of your faces, and you wipe it from your nose and cheeks before resuming your diligent work. Finally the trunk begins to smoke and smolder, and you feed the fire the last of your small nest remains encouragingly. Before long the trunk is blazing happily at the entrance to your cave, and you huddle with her behind it, drinking up its warmth. In the span of a quarter of an hour your shirt is dried, and you work her into your lap and lay it over her stomach. She looks up at you weakly at the gesture and you manage to keep your chattering teeth still long enough to grin down at her. Over the course of the next hour you're forced nearer to the sole log as it turns to embers. These coals give plenty of heat, but only when you've both moved very close to them. At this point her coat is dry and her fur is keeping her warm.

Rarity returns your shirt then, unable to meet your eyes. “I'm... I'm sorry darling. I really am. If I'd not been so stubborn, if I'd taken the proper path, if only... Oh... I almost lost you!”

She nuzzles her face into your stomach and you brush her matted hair away from her face, rubbing her head gently as she starts to cry.

“I can't believe... can't believe what we were able to do. Oh I feel foolish. Are you terribly mad? You must be so upset...” She looks away from you into the burning coals. The heat finds an unscorched place as it grows and a tongue of fire creeps around the side of the log hungrily.

You lean into her and whisper soft assurances. You couldn't be mad after the things she's done to protect you today. Apologies spill out between you both, and her sniffles and tears soon turn into full on sobs.

“I told you didn't I?”

She finally manages to look up and get this out between hiccuping gasps and hyperventilating gulps of breath. Her eyes are puffy and red in the dying light of your fire, whether largely from the filthy water or the crying you can't tell.

“I told you, I spent my whole life looking for you. I can't lose that. I need you too much.”

She fumbles with her hair, trying to straighten it with her hooves as she struggles to meet your eyes. You rub her ears encouragingly, only further messing her hair. She frowns at you and blows it out of her eyes defiantly, but it's too late. She accidentally makes eye contact and blushes furiously, looking for all the world like a young filly again. You recognize the awkward behavior from the first time she'd admitted her feelings for you, and though you've both grown up it's remarkable how similar some of her habits have remained. You decide to break the difficulty for her now, as you did then, with a question. Tonight's question is quite different in nature however. How could she do what she did with the water?

“You're... you're really the best I could have ever asked for. Perfect in every way. Heavens help me if I ever, EVER forget that. When I saw you sink under the water I didn't know what you were doing. But the moment you lifted me- us... out... I knew it. There is really no man mule or stallion in the world better suited to be the father of this child than you. I couldn't lose you. When you swam off, I thought it was going to be the last time I'd see you. I wasn't sure what to do, I couldn't... couldn't lose you. I had to hold onto the only part I could, no matter what it took.”

You follow her gaze to your hand, where your wedding band rests snugly about your finger. Silently you realize that she's not been trying to avoid your eyecontact all this time, but rather struggling to break her gaze on it. You remember the day she made it for you, covered in her customary gems. It had been awkward for you, seeming terribly girly; but you'd known the customs weren't the same between you. It hasn't ever left your hand, and now its abundance of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies sparkle and play small reflections of light across the cave as you hold it against the glow of the fire's golden and pink embers.

“That ring... was the most difficult thing I think I've ever made. I know I've never told you, but gems in Equestria aren't often cut. Add to that that I'm a fashionista by trade and only a jeweler by hobby... You know that much from working together... with me. When I reached out, it was thinking of the time I'd put into that ring for you. The next thing I knew, I had my magic around your whole hand... then your body... and from there it was just a hop skip and a jump to rescuing you...”

You look at her in wonder and admiration, knowing fully from your time around the unicorns of Ponyville how much magic of that level must have cost her. Extending her connection from the gems in your ring to your whole body is an adaptation of magic beyond what anypony might have ever expected from her. It's a miracle she's breathing and awake, and as if she could read your thoughts, she yawns heavily again and her eyelids flutter slightly.

“I can't lose you, you know that now.”

She lays her head on your lap and her breathing slows as she nears exhaustion.

“I love you too much. I love you... so very very much. So... so much.”

The breathing grows heavier.

“So... much. So... much. So... love... you.”

You lean back against the wall of the cave, eyes slowly closing, fatigue creeping into you as well. Your questions are satisfied, and you see no point to keeping her up longer. Tomorrow won't be easy, but together you'll manage your way back to Ponyville. There you'll cuddle for days in your warm bed together. You whisper these encouraging thoughts as much to yourself as to her as you drift off to sleep, the thought of your warm bed pulling you into sleep amid her still mumbling the same words. Delicately, you brush aside her messy locks of hair and lay a soft kiss on her cheek. She turns her head ever so gently, still mumbling in your arms.

“Love you...”

Chapter 8

=====================================================================
-Part 8: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Anal, Denial, Fisting, Fingering, Squirting, Heavy Foodplay, High drama, Large Weight, Light bondage / Restraining, Denial, Stuffing, Showering, Hornjobs

Part 8 is intended to clean up most of the loose details / high drama from Part 7 so that the series can return to its more relatively light drama. As a result, it’s rather long (34 pages) and is split neatly in the middle with a series of * to allow the reader a proper separation if they prefer their short stories to be... “short.”

It’s well into the day when you wander into Ponyville, hungry, soaked to the bone, and aching. Your internal clock is telling you that it’s roughly noon, but you can’t tell by looking up. The overcast sky lets out another ominous rumble and you sigh, looking at your side as Rarity sinks deeper into your damp shirt. Her hair is a mess and her hooves are muddy and stained. You walk the rocky road with your own feet bare; your shoes too ruined, shrunken, and soaked to ever wear again. The events of the past day and night have left you both weary, but as you pause to catch your breath and survey the damage to the both of you, she looks up at you with a genuine loving smile creeping out between panted breaths. Her azure eyes sparkle with wetness that can hardly be ascribed to the rain that stopped hours ago as she tries to get her words out to you.
“It’s not so bad... all things considered. We’re almost there, come on now... not much further, right? Ponyville’s in sight... Oh I’ve never been so happy to see it. If the girls could see me now... I can’t wait for the-”
A drop of rain falls on the ground between you two. Another drop followed by another and soon it’s pouring down on both of you. You stare at each other, and she starts to laugh. Her laugh is beautiful, deep from her stomach, shaking her body. You can’t help but laugh too as the scent of wet grass fills your nose. She takes off for Ponyville at a gallop, with you close behind.
Your hurry into town finally gives your feet purchase on cobblestone pavement as you navigate the city streets toward your apartment. You’re headed in that direction when she gives a cry in front of you. Your heart leaps into your throat as you worry she’s lost her balance, but instead she skids to a stop at an alley and takes off through it. You hurry to follow, and it’s another two blocks before you realize you’re headed for the Boutique. Your mind finally catches up with hers, and you remember that much of your apartment has been moved into your actual home over the past few days. You bound across the last street together, dodging ponies and colts who are hurrying about their business amidst the rainy day.
Hitting the door with a thud moments before she does, you turn the key in the lock and collapse together inside the doorstep, laughing in each other’s arms as onlookers gawk. You struggle to get your arms around her thick body, letting her roll safely ontop of you as she clamps her lips onto yours. Her soaked hair slaps across your face, forcing your eyes shut. Both of you are drenched from head to toe, and she practically has to drag herself off of you. You finally lock your arms around her and pull her back, bringing a new string of giggling. Only a handful of hours ago you almost lost everything dear to you, and now no small single kiss will drive out the insecurity of how close that call had been. You pull her face back to yours, sobered by the thought. She slowly stops giggling and looks at your suddenly stern face, not daring to break eye contact.
“Darling, what is it? Did I step on your le-”
You force her head down, lips to yours, locking them tightly in an embrace. You feel her stiff awkwardness melt into a small series of sobs into your mouth, and the same sensations rock you. She breaks the kiss finally, tears streaming down her face and eyes screwed up. Above you you can hear the rain striking the roof with a fury. You sit up and embrace her tightly again, and she kisses at your neck between whimpers. Behind you the door swings against its hinges, caught in a sudden burst of wind that smacks it against the outside of the Boutique and makes you both jump. She lets out a sharp shriek and buries her head into your chest. After a moment, she chuckles into your bare skin.
“We’re so... we’re so silly. Both of us. Nothing could have ever happened back there, right? Never, I could never have lost you. It was all just a bad dream, and now we’re here, and we’re awake again. Safe and sound, all three of us, just like every other day for months on end.”
She forces another little laugh and brushes your lips with hers. The kiss builds in passion, and her hooves fumble for your belt. You struggle to get both of you to your feet, hunched over to keep your face and hers together. She lifts herself onto her hind legs, meeting you and letting you stand straight. She uses you for balance in the awkward position, forcing her tongue into your mouth, strangled sob sneaking out as she tries to work around her body’s thickness to lock her hooves around you. You take a step for the stairs toward your bedroom, and almost have to drag her the majority of the way up them. Behind you the door slaps against the wall outside letting the rain pour in downstairs; but it sits ajar and forgotten for some time, the entrance to a trail of muddy streaks whose paths boldly show where you both moved through the normally spotless halls.

Together they lead through the shop floor, up the stairs, to the bedroom; where they halt and collect at the door, the site of your struggle to avoid falling into bed in your current state; until it continues ponderously toward the bathroom. There it ends, mirror steaming and room filling quickly with the scent of lavender and vanilla.
You finally manage your jeans off, certain that mud and water have shrunken them so badly they’ll never fit properly again. Rarity clumsily manages the rim of the bathtub, and there she settles into it while you shave in the smaller mirror resting on the counter, water collecting noisily behind her immensely thick body. You drink in the very sight of her safe and sound, laying down on her side, head resting on the edge of the shower rim, hot water streaming from the tap over her and onto the vast expanse of her back and bottom. Around her her rolls splay out in thick fatty abundance, and you feel hardness spreading to your lower half. You switch your gaze to her face, wondering if she’s noticed.
Her eyes are lidded entirely, and you’re almost certain she’s asleep. A small sniffle alerts you to her possible consciousness, and she yawns hugely before slowly opening her eyes. You turn your back to her, not wanting her to worry about keeping your sex drive pleased right now. Adjusting the mirror, you try to get a look at her through it, but she’s too far below the edge of the counter. You feel a pinch on your butt, and look behind you. She’s got it gripped tightly in one hoof, a sly smile on her face. Her voice comes out playfully sulky, but she can’t mask the fatigue in it despite her obvious efforts.

“What could you be hiding from me, Prince Charming? Would you really want to waste that on your hands when-”
A great yawn takes her
“When you’ve the finest unicorn in Ponyville at your feet?”
You turn around, manhood still at attention, and she leans her head back, suddenly less playful and more awake.
“My GOODNESS. It certainly is big today.”
You blush in spite of yourself.
“Honestly, is it always so- Good heavens.”
Unable to tell if she’s serious or simply flattering you to put you more in the mood, you look down. Everything looks normal, but when you look up, she’s sliding the glass shower door between you and her. You sigh, wondering what she’s up to. From behind its opaque curtain you hear her muffled voice issue a command above the pitter-patter of your shower head.
“Put it up against the glass.”
You look at her through it for a minute, trying to tell if she’s joking. You’re about to go back to shaving when she taps a hoof on the door to get your attention again.
“I’m serious darling, put it against the glass.”
You shrug, setting your razor on the counter and pressing your hardness up against the glass. Despite all the steam fogging it on the other end, your side is surprisingly cold, and you jerk it back with a protesting yelp.
“No no. Put it back. Back where I can see it.”
You squint, barely able to make her out through the fogged up pane between you two. Carefully this time, you put it back up against the glass. An ivory coloured hoof taps against the steamed curtain, leaving a trail of streaking clearness behind it. Carefully she draws the outline of your member, and you feel blush flood your cheeks again as you realize that’s what she’s doing. She finishes the familiar shape and you hear her turn down the force of the water.
What follows can only be described as a clamour, and you watch her incredibly distorted figure through the glass separating both of you as she uses the washcloth racks in the shower to take to her back legs. You try to open the door to get to her, but she cuts you off as you reach for it.
“No! No no... I’m just...”
She nestles herself up against the shower door, and you watch as more and more of her body comes into faintly smokey view as she mushes her side against the glass wall. Finally she slowly slumps down into the shower basin again and looks at the result. You take it in too. She’s left a nearly perfect impression of her enormously round body against the sliding door. You can see her more clearly through the unsteamed section she’s left, but you’re unable to make out her expression. Still, the size comparison is there.
You pull aside the door at last, and slide down onto the tub floor around her before closing it behind you to keep the warmth in. Both your legs have to be spread with bending at the knees to accommodate her girth between them, and your hardness slaps against her back. You look at what she’s looking at, and she turns to you over her shoulder.
“It is rather big comparatively, isn’t it? I mean, just look.”
You’re about to remind her that she’s a good two feet shorter than you unless she’s standing up on her back legs, and even then she’s much smaller physically, but she sighs and leans back into you, incredibly thick haunches rubbing their softness against your erection. Some of your shaving cream brushes into the back of her hair, but she says nothing.
“It’s hard to believe it all fits inside, you know. Honestly, look how far it must go in.”
You clear your throat loudly, wishing the subject would change to something less embarrassing.
“And so modest about it, too.”
You remind yourself you’re only average, at least as far as you know. You’ve no one else to compare to, after all.
“Really though, the difference is - why it’s halfway into my stomach if this is to be believed.”
You clear your throat again, louder this time.
“Something in your throat dea- GOOD HEAVENS!”
She looks back at you and spots the shaving cream still dropping off your chin and neck.
“You got that in my hair! My HAIR! Oh that does it, you get nothing out of me until we’re both in bed.”
You sigh at the end of her game and take your feet, reaching out of the shower and stretching to reach the countertop for your razor. Under you, she moves awkwardly, and you feel your feet leave the shower floor long before your brain registers that the ground is getting closer. It swoops up, snatching at you-
But the impact doesn’t come. Behind you, she sighs and magically drops you gently the rest of the way to the ground. The ring on your finger twitches slightly from the effort, and she leans back.
“Easier to do the second time I... I should discuss that with Twilight. I’m not sure why it was so easy.”
You manage to roll over and spot her against the shower wall, breathing heavily. Carefully you drag yourself and your razor back in with you and cradle her up against you. It doesn’t look like it was easy from her rapid breathing. You collect some water in your hand and hold it up to her lips, and she sips it gratefully before looking up at you.
“Now now... I may... Feel... like I’ve... run a marathon... but... I assure you. I’m perfectly... fine now.” You kiss her on her horn affectionately, and she shudders slightly. Experimentally, you kiss there again. She lets out a long breath.
“Feels good. Don’t understand.”
You arch an eyebrow. You checked with her years ago when you started dating and were specifically told that unicorn horns being an erogenous zone was an old mare’s tale. You even tried it on your fourth date, much to her laughter and good humor before she directed you gently to places that mattered more.
You kiss her again there, more slowly this time. She moans gently in your arms. It’s not clear how it’s pleasurable, but it’s obviously tender. You rub the hardness of her horn with your hand - it’s just the same as the last time you tried it in terms of firmness and texture.
“S’like rubbing a sore spot. Mmmmnnn”
She turns her face into your embrace, nuzzling against your chest. Above you, the water starts to chill, and you turn the tap to release more hot water. Gently you rub and massage her horn, and she slowly sinks lower in the tub until you’re hunched over her as she reclines on her back in the smooth warm basin. You give her a gentle kiss, rubbing her horn and tummy at the same time. All four of her legs kick softly at your touch, and you lean back, thinking you might have found something to ask Twilight Sparkle about yourself if time permits. As you withdraw your hand, her hooves clamp down on it and she mumbles something. You lean closer as she repeats herself for you.
“Don’t... stop...”
You rub her tummy encouragingly with the other hand and she spreads her legs to let the water from above hit her womanhood directly. You squirm on the shower floor next to her and try to manage yourself into the tight space that her thick body leaves you. You can feel the firmness of your member pressing against the soft pillowy thickness of her enormous haunches. From your prone perspective looking back in that direction you watch the curvature of her body as it steadily fills the horizon of the bathtub the further back it goes, her stomach a snow covered mountain resting between the hills of her thick white thighs. Her upper hooves scrape desperately at the shower bowl as you increase the pace of your massaging her horn. By now her voice is rising again.
“D-Do you like my body? Do you want it? You want to put it in?”
You rub against her thigh, arousal growing as her resolve begins to break.
“N-we musn’t. You can’t do that until tonight.”
You sigh at the intentional denial and sit up, slightly peeved.
Rarity gradually sits up as you finish shaving in the shower, doing your best to pick out the rough patches by feel.
“Oh goodness. A-are we done so soon? I suppose it’s fair... I did say you weren’t to have anything from me until bed, so it might as well be fair. I -had- rather hoped you’d play along a little more though.”
She forces a pout and you shrug, trying not to make eye contact, hoping to tease her and perhaps get her into the mood to finish what she started.
“And at any rate, after seeing the magnitude of what’s to be put in me, I’m not sure I want it then either.”
You fake an irritated sigh, inwardly pleased that she’s still happy enough to tease you and dote on your size.
“Those are my insides, you know, there’s a baby in there somewhere.”
You swallow your reply that it’s “not how that works” and finish shaving your last cheek. You’re sure she’s trying to get the better of you, but inwardly you wonder just how much she knows about pony anatomy.
“I wonder how it accommodates, it seems so...”
This prompts you to look at her, no longer able to conceal your wondering at whether or not she’s playing with you. Her smile betrays her lack of ignorance on the subject. You take to your feet and present yourself to her, no longer completely hard, but she feigns disinterest and pushes herself away from it, taking to her hooves and putting her back to you as she washes out the conditioner and remaining shaving cream in her hair. She intentionally begins to sway her hips, causing ripples of her enormous haunches to greet your eyes. “I can’t fit that in. I’m telling you, it won’t stretch to such huge proportions. Do you think I’m some sort of marshmallow?” You reply by squeezing a handful of soft alabaster butt, and she snorts as you both climb out of the shower and begin to towel off. “I suppose I am rather full of marshmallow -somewhere-. And while we’re on that subject... Later this evening, yes?” A slap on her rump and you’re turning off the bathroom lights and staggering towards the bedroom together.

“This evening” doesn’t come as planned. The two of you settle into bed almost immediately, and the world fades out of your senses for quite some time in the embrace of the pony you hold so dearly. Fatigue from your journey overtakes you quickly, and both of you lose any remaining sexual pressure the moment you get your arms around the other. Gripped by the desperation of yesterday, you tighten your hold on her and she burrows deeper into the sheets around you, shutting out the world in the silence of your spacious bedroom. Around your bodies the sheets tangle and bundle as you pull each other closer and tighter, heads finally resting adjacent one another, bodies a tangle of hooves, hands and feet. For the first time since you started sleeping together, she says nothing as the bedthings wrap and cling to your bodies in the most untidy way. By the time she drifts off to sleep in your arms, she’s got a stranglehold around your shoulders, and the pillow around your heads is wet from both of your hair. Your own arms loop under and over her chest and pull it tightly to your own, and despite the security of the moment you find it hard to relax. Outside the boutique window the rain continues to drum across the glass, and the steam from your nearby bathroom has fogged its windows. You lay a kiss on her forehead and take a deep breath. The scent of her hair, matted against the pillow around you, fills your nose and brings a smile to your face. She’s here now, in every way you can touch and feel. She’s safe, too. Comfortable, tired, and warm.
You run a hand across her tummy, eyelids growing heavy. The foal within seems to be fine, at least she hasn’t felt any complications surrounding it. You pin it to an ever growing mental list of things to talk to Twilight about. Around you the scent of clean sheets and drying hair finally lures you off to sleep to the gentle rhythm of her breathing.
You bring yourself awake an unfathomable number of hours later. She’s gone from your bedside. A brief panic sets in as moonlight shines in the window beside your bed, and it’s not until you hear her heavy hoofbeats coming up the stairs that your hammering heart starts to slow. She marches steadily up the hallway and pauses in the door as she gets a look at your face. Her mouth has a stick of celery hanging out of it, and she’s got a stuffed saddlebag over her shoulders and neck. “Nuer Wake”? she manages through the mouthful.
You sit up in the bed to get a better look at what she’s got, but she blushes madly in the dim light of the room and shuts the saddlebag quickly, furiously gulping down the celery and sputtering out a quick string of excuses.
“It seemed so comfortable and I just thought we might be in bed for a while but I haven’t eaten a good meal in days. Ohh... Some of it’s for you! Look!”
You lay back in bed as she heavily thumps up onto it and over you to her side, bed groaning and mattress sinking with her every wobbly hoof fall until she’s curled up on her side next to you with the bag between both of you. While she’s preoccupied with getting comfortable, you look inside. It’s filled with marshmallows, celery, apples, and carrots. All her favorites. Definitely handpicked for you, and you laugh as she takes some of them out.
“Well- well you like them too!”
She sets the bag and its contents next to the bed and finishes gulping down the rest of her celery meal, offering you a couple of the stalks. You chew on one thoughtfully before reaching out to rub her horn playfully.
“Dovn’t veel anymo” she manages between bites.
You rub it more quickly, and she crosses her eyes upward to look where your hand is before swallowing.
“I already tried that. It doesn’t feel good anymore. I’m not certain why it doesn’t.”
You sigh, leaning back and finishing your last stick of vegetable goodness to think on the matter. She rolls over, pushing herself up with her hooves, unsteadily plodding across the small space between you two until she rests her haunches on your naked groin. You can feel heat coming off her privates, and she glistens wetly in the moonlight. She leans in to kiss you, and for a brief moment the white light spreads across her pale face and shines across her messy hair, pouring her sapphire eyes full of light. You quickly stop her advance with your hand, and ease her face back into the position it was in.

She’s gorgeous, even as she gives you the most puzzled look. You tell her so, and she blushes and tries to look at the wall.
“I-is that so? What is it?”
It’s her coat, perhaps. So beautiful and well groomed, positively shining like a sea of desert sand at night. For a moment, you drink in its stillness, barely disturbed by the rising and falling of her chest. Maybe it’s her hair, just right framing her chubby face, the tangled and unkempt state giving her an almost too natural appeal. Perhaps it’s the reflection of her eyes, which you’ve never seen so starkly lit by the moon. It’s a wonderful thing, being awake at night. A totally different light from the sun, something soft and gentle to illuminate her soft and gentle figure. In that moment she looks like what you imagine the very first unicorn must have looked like, and you brush the sides of her neck encouragingly and whisper all of this to her. She sinks into your arms and lays a careful kiss on your lips, flattered beyond words. Her head gently makes its way down to your chest, and you feel the blankets pulling up around you both. In minutes you’re both back asleep, in each other’s arms.

You wake up at several other points throughout the next long string of hours. Each time you resolve yourself to get up, and each time the lure of her warm and soft body brings you back up against her. It’s impossible to tear yourself away from her. Every cushiony inch of her draws you in closer and closer, leaving you spooned tightly against her immensity each time you return to your slumber. On several occasions you wake to find her snacking, and you rub her tummy encouragingly through the haze of pseudo-sleep until she’s back curled up next to you and your combined breathing matches that steady relaxed pace again. This cycle continues more times than you can keep track of, and at one point when the moon is out again you’re sure you catch her writing a letter before rolling back over to you and pulling you closer.

You finally pry yourself out of bed an indeterminate number of days later. The sun is coming down from the afternoon judging by its position in the sky, and next to you Rarity sleeps soundly on her back, breath still heavy and steady. You’re forced to fight the urge to crawl back up to her warmth, but your limbs and eyes are protesting their extended period of disuse loudly. For several moments you stare up at the ceiling, wondering whether or not it’s not wiser to simply sleep until the next morning. It’s several minutes before your eyes stop stinging enough to force them open all the way, and the light assaulting your vision leaves a throbbing pain in your temples.
You’ve slept far too much recently, and though it takes a great deal of willpower, you manage to separate yourself from her in search of food. On your way out of the room you pick up your towel and wrap it around yourself, not sure which box your bathrobe is still packed away in, and not wanting to wake her by looking for a new pair of clothes amidst all your still packaged things. The muddy streak on the floor is still there, dried now and cracking under your feet. You do your best to avoid it and make for the kitchen. On your way there, you catch the front door, still ajar, and shut it gently.
With a yawn you survey the contents of your icebox. Some eggs gifted to you from Fluttershy that are sure to go bad if they’re not eaten soon. You pull those out, look about for the potatoes you bought days ago at the market, and begin to peel one as the pan on the stove begins to heat up. Whistling as you work, you skin and dice the potato carefully, cooking your eggs along with some of the vegetarian sausage you have in the freezer. The aroma is intoxicating, and before long your mouth is watering. You finish scrambling your eggs and take the sausage off, using the grease to make your hashbrowns perfect. For a brief moment you long for real sausage, but the last time this was suggested the discouragement from surrounding ponies was overwhelming. You’ve since managed to find a meat that wasn’t fish only a handful of times since your stay in ponyville began years ago.
It’s while you’re taking those hashbrowns off the skillet and turning off the stove that you hear the kitchen door open with a click. No sound of a hoof to open it, certainly magicked. Imagining Rarity’s surprise when she finds breakfast cooked, your mind races. This is good, you can feed her breakfast, cuddle at the kitchen table, and maybe afterward... The thought quickly strikes you that, though you’re not sure how many days you’ve slept, you’ve been many a day without sex now. You let the towel drop and spin, pan in hand, to smile at her. Instead, Twilight Sparkle comes into view as you turn, looking up from her open book just in time, and with a shriek she recoils and slams the kitchen door shut, putting a barrier between your aroused and naked body and her eyes. Her voice comes muffled through the other side.
“Y-your front door is... it’s open... and Rarity...well she asked for... Are you decent?”
You pick up the towel, hurriedly assuring her that you are as you rush for the door to quiet her down before the two of you wake the sleeping pony upstairs, but a thump above your heads alerts you to her rising from bed. You reach the kitchen door and stub your toe on the cabinet next to it, reeling off a string of loud curses as a series of loosely stacked and recently unpacked cast iron bowls, woks, and pans rains down from on top of the shelves onto your head with an incredible noise. You stumble back and hit the floor with a smack. Your vision swims slightly and you shake your head, trying to get your bearings. On the other end of the door you hear a shout and the door glows purple before flying open, smacking into your prone shins with a resounding “crack” and causing you to curl up with a yelp. Twilight bounds into the room to make sure you’re alright, but somewhere in the fall you’ve lost your towel again and she skids to a stop and turns around, running back out of the room shouting apologies. She barely avoids Rarity in the hall leading to the kitchen, who thunders past her and into the room, looking for the source of the problem before bursting out laughing.
“Are---- are you alright? Oh good heavens you gave me a fright.”
You sit up and pull the towel over yourself, flush flooding your cheeks as you grumble out an explanation.
“It’s alright Twilight!” she cries over her shoulder.
Twilight blushes uncontrollably as she trots back into the room, taking stock of it. Without a glint of notable concentration, her horn bursts into a soft glow and the room begins to arrange itself. Pots and pans fly to their respective cupboards, boxes are unpacked, silverware zips into drawers and in a matter of moments the entire room is unpacked.
“Is your leg alright?” She finally manages.
You look down to the shin you’re rubbing, and you’re sure it will be bruised. There’s no blood anywhere yet, and you’re fairly sure you’ve gotten out of it without any serious injury. Seeing this for herself, Rarity brushes past you to the foot on the table.
“You’re sure you’re alright darling? Awww, you were making breakfast for us? I married the best man, I just know I did.” You smile at her warily as you take to your feet. Twilight looks up at you. “S-sorry for coming in without knocking, but I really expected that-” She’s interrupted by your wife pulling plates magically out of the cabinets and lowering them onto the table, setting places for three.
“Oh Twilight, you’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. You’ve been party to more than that between all of us at any rate!”
Twilight’s face takes on an even more crimson hue, and Rarity pushes onward, hoping to dispel the sudden awkwardness.
“Come share this breakfast here, Darling. Have you eaten yet? Just look, he’s made my portions far too big, you simply must have some. It’s the least I can do for having you over here on such short notice.”
Twilight looks carefully at anything but Rarity’s face as she sits in her seat.
“Yyyyyyeah. About that. Rarity, I know you’re nervous, but I just gave you a checkup this Tuesday. Are you really sure you need me again? It’s only been four days.”
Rarity pauses between bites of her sausage, forcing herself to swallow it; and now nervousness has shifted to the other hoof.
“Well, I... You see... Oh heavens, you do remember the walk you advised us upon, yes?”
Twilight picks at her eggs politely, nodding sagely with a smile.
“Well we sort of took your advise. We went hiking. And well, one thing lead to another, and we fell asleep on the mountaintop. When we woke well...”
She goes through the harrowing story of your escape from the storm and desperate struggle to keep one another safe. Not a single detail is omitted, though she glosses over your more intimate moments with polite throat clearing and subtle hand gestures. When she’s done Twilight’s not gotten a bite of her eggs, her smile has drooped to a shocked jaw drop, and you’re sure every plate on the table has gone cold but your empty one.
“Honestly I’m not sure where the storm came from. Was it scheduled?”
Twilight shrugs. “How would I know? But more importantly-”
“Well I just thought that... I mean, you and Rainbow Dash...”
Twilight frowns.
“Rarity, I don’t know everything that Rainbow does, and she was busy that day. Just what are you trying to say?”
“I just thought you might have known when you sent us out dear, I wasn’t trying to-”
“You DO know this isn’t my fault, don’t you?”
“Well no, I mean yes, I mean... I just didn’t know if you knew there was a storm planned for the afternoon. I certainly didn’t think there would be.”
“Well neither did I. And even if I had known, it was your choice to take those risks, Rarity.”
“Excuse me?”
“You two could stand to have a little more self control. I’m sure it never occurred to you that it was a little dangerous to do the things you did? It’s your eighth month. You could have been seriously hurt!”
This is stated matter-of-factly, but you think you can hear a bit of edge behind the purple pony’s voice.
“Twilight Sparkle, I’m surprised at you! This was all a tremendous accident. I don’t think it was anypony’s fault.”
Twilight’s horn glows its usual colour as she looks over Rarity for damages. You take this calm point to grab a washcloth and wet it down, wandering into the hallway to fix the muddy path coating the boutique’s interior. Their conversation carries into the corridor and up to you. Twilight’s voice follows hot on the heels of Rarity’s dismissive comment, the tone dripping with her characteristic sarcasm.
“Oh sure, it’s nopony’s fault. And everypony I know has to get this checkup, the one intended to be given once a month, four times in four weeks. Are you sure you’re ready for this? You two don’t seem to be settling down much.”
“Are you IMPLYING we’re not fit to be parents?”
“Well no, I’m saying that you’re not exactly acting like proper adults lately.”
“And what pony acts perfectly all the time? You and Rainbow Dash? You think yourself and Rainbow Dash would be fit parents?”
“Well, no. And yes. Yes, I think Rainbow and I could be good parents if we tried. But this isn’t abou-”
“Well then isn’t that just the biggest shame.”
Twilight’s voice drops as she challenges the notion.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me! You think Rainbow Dash would be a better parent than either of us? Still running off to do her work early and catching everypony in a thunder storm so she can go play pranks with Pinkie Pie at her age!?”
“Don’t you turn this onto Dash and me! You’re the one who makes these... decisions. And for your information, Pinkie Pie and Dash were out collecting things for YOUR stupid baby shower that afternoon, which is TODAY by the way.”
“Toda-? Well if it’s so stupid, I don’t expect to see you there!”
“Well maybe you WON’T!”
Twilight’s voice carries toward you and you see her rushing past you toward the front door. You cringe as Rarity follows her, head down, eyes locked in a fierce glare. Twilight reaches the door, which has swung open on its own again at some point during their argument, and pauses for a moment. She looks at the ground and swallows her anger long enough to spit out her parting shot.
“Your baby looks fine to me, Rarity. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe.”
“Fine.”
The door clicks behind her, and Twilight is gone from your home. Rarity swivels on her hooves and stomps into the kitchen in a huff. You stoop to finish wiping the last of the mud from the foyer and move to the stairs, hoping to give her a few minutes of cooling off before you approach her. This isn’t possible of course, as the the kitchen bursts into a cacophony of cookware smacking against the floor, and you drop your rag and hurry in to make sure she’s OK. You enter the room to a maelstrom of flying pots and pans and silverware. In the entrance to the kitchen her wild use of magic illuminates her hardened face, and you boldly step into the kitchen behind her with a whistle to grab at her attention. She whirls about, eyes finally settling on yours, all the cookware freezing before dropping to the floor with a deafening loud clatter.
She slumps as she looks in your eyes, afraid to examine the mess around her. Her voice comes out choked and strangled, and she’s shaking now in the aftermath of the argument.
“I didn’t like where she put our things.”
Now isn’t the time to mention that Equestria’s finest magician had expertly placed every dish down to the forks and knives exactly where it had been since you’d known your wife. You take to a knee and hold her face in your hands. She sniffles a bit.
“We’re good parents, right? We’re not... we’re not going to be bad?”
Your heart sinks. Twilight’s words ring against every insecurity you privately hold. Less than a month remains between yourselves and your biggest change. You feel yourself inwardly rail against the accusation once more, but then you picture what could happen if Twilight’s right. You picturing dropping your foal when carrying her, or her being hurt because you two are too busy fooling around. You shake your head to clear it, and you whisper assurances in her ear until her sniffles stop. You tell her that as long as you’re together, everything will be fine, but privately you know Twilight’s words have stung both of you deeper than your words can help fix. Her outsider’s perspective is more likely the truth than all the convincing you can ever manage for yourself.
Fixing her chin up with a nod after your pep talk, Rarity busies herself straightening the room, and you note with no small regret that she’s putting everything exactly back where it came from. You return to the stairs, and her shout reaches you from there over the clatter of things settling.
“Is it really Wednesday?”
Clattering and crashing.
“-been out for days! Pinkie Pie’s party must be only a hoofful of hours away!
More clanging and clinking of pots and silverware.
“-n’t be late, you know?”
A thunder of things settling down.
“-would reflect simply terribly upon the both of us!”
You finish cleaning the stairs just as she hurries past you with a mouthful of food, her plate hovering next to her.
“Now I’ve got to find something to wear. You should get dressed too, but I think you need a shower first.”
You nod, looking wistfully down the dirty hallway. She trots out of the bedroom with the plate and finally notices you scrubbing the floor. She scrunches up her face in concentration for a moment and the smeared hardwood cleans itself.
“There, that’s better isn’t it?”
You take to your feet and she looks at you and blushes. You realize you’re still clutching the towel to yourself, and you sigh. You’re certainly not feeling as mature as you assured her you both are, standing there with nothing else on. You move toward the bathroom and hop into the shower, still preoccupied with Twilight’s accusations. The fact that she could have been twice as stern crosses your mind, but even still she couldn’t have known how insecure you both are about raising your little foal. You wash the shampoo out of your hair and the temptation to stand under the hot water until it runs out almost consumes you. Still, you’ve not heard anything from the bedroom for a while, and she’s not come in and asked for your not-so-needed opinion on a single saddle or dress. You turn the water flow off and step out, drying yourself quickly and moving up the hall to the bedroom.

You’re greeted with a stack of dresses piled on the bed. She’s trying to get a saddle over herself, but the buckles are a good many inches apart, and she pants, looking none too pleased. She looks angrily up at you as you make your way into the room.
“It’s hopeless! I’ve not a thing that fits me. They don’t even MAKE things in my size. I’m as big as a train, and not a single one of my shoes fits anymore... I’ll be barehooved tonight. It’s positively scandalous!”
You look at all the tiny dresses heaped in a stack and back to her broad figure.
“Just LOOK at these disgusting flanks. The way they jiggle and flop around like pudding. You simply must be lying when you tell me it’s attractive, not a colt in the world would look at this and think it was something they wanted anything to do with.”
Without even paying it mind, she levitates the plate she was carrying earlier, and you see that it’s Twilight’s breakfast. She wolfs down several bites with barely so much as a single chew before exclaiming at you angrily.
“I’ve nothing to wear. I’m not going!”
You sigh, and pick up one of her favorite dresses, one she only wore a handful of weeks ago to dinner with Twilight and Dash. You’re sure that one still fits, though it might be a bit tight now. You offer it to her.
“Keep that THING away from me. I don’t want to be reminded of it.”
The night swims back to you, and you shrug off the memories of it. You pick up her favorite black cocktail dress, and look it over.
“Oh, that thing won’t fit me. I’ve told you, they don’t even make things in my size.”
You raise your eyebrow. She’s the finest seamstress in all of Equestria, and she can’t let out a beautiful gown like this in a half an hour? And who is “They”? You know for a fact -she- makes all her dresses. You rub her back encouragingly, hands trailing down to her meaty haunches, where you linger rubbing them for a bit too long. She continues to finish off the plate, and you imagine where it’s going, imagine briefly how thick her flanks and haunches and stomach might get if you could just keep offering her plates when she gets like this. Under the folds of your towel, you feel yourself growing harder. You try to distract her by telling her she should put her magic to work, and that she’ll feel better once she does. She nods after a few moments of assurances and takes it, paying no mind as you continue to vigorously rub her butt and will it through some miracle to put those calories she’s even now consuming to work immediately. “Come along and assist me then. We’ll have it done in minutes.”
You follow her, towel slipping off, manhood slapping against your waist as you walk. You don’t bother to pick it up, hoping to cheer her up if you’re careful. She sits down at her sewing machine and pulls together a roll of fabric. “Can you bring me some black thread, dear?”
You pick up the spool of thread and approach her bench, but then you pause, consumed with the possibility of the moment. With one hand you carefully level out your erection, and with the other you place the spool on top of it. The walk is slow and ponderous, and you almost lose it a number of times, but you reach her just as she turns around to see where you’ve gotten to.
“It’s in the- Oh. That.”
You thrust forward gently and she snatches the spool off quickly, trying to pay it no mind. Still, her gaze lingers, and she turns her head around to see if it’s still there. The sound of her sewing machine fills the room, and in minutes the dress is looking entirely different. A tape measure flutters on its own around her waist and hips before lowering itself down to the fabric. She makes a mark. You walk up behind her, pressing your body against the back of her chair, and drape your arms over her.
“I suppose you want a reward for being my helper today.”
You squeeze her shoulders in reply.
“Oh very well. Let me put in this last stitch line and we’ll see what we can do.”
You tap her on the shoulder and she turns.
“I said a minute dear, just a-”
You kiss her, gently. She melts into it, lips locking around yours with a surprising fierceness. When the kiss breaks, she looks up at you hungrily.
“Mmmnnn. You’re so impatient.”
You turn her, chair and all, and present you thickness to her face.
“This? You want this mouth?”
You nod and grit your teeth and she swallows you down expertly. She bobs her head up and down your shaft madly, obviously grateful for the distraction. As she works her throat roughly around the slickened pole, her hooves creep up your legs and grab your thighs. She attacks your member with frustrated gulps, eyes narrowed, frown growing more and more on her face as she increases in ferocity. You’re finally about to climax when she reluctantly manages her mouth off of you and gasps.
“No. No no.”
You look down at her bewildered, pressure in your lower body building, head buzzing with the need for release.
“Must be responsible. Come now, I still need to finish this and get my hair proper before we can leave.”
You sigh and start to tug on your throbbing member with your hand, deciding with little hesitation to finish up the job without her.
“No!”
You snap to attention.
“Absolutely not. It’s been days since you did that last, there’s bound to be... so much... you’ll waste... my workplace.”
The awkwardly worded sentence hangs in the air as you sigh and look at her for a moment hoping she’ll change her mind if that stiff part of you stays in front of her long enough, but behind her sewing glasses her eyes narrow as if daring you to move your hand back to its pleasurable grip. You look down at her sitting position and discover that she’s just as aroused. She’s holding out on you for some reason, and you’re fairly sure you can guess the cause. As she sees your eyes wander she closes up her legs.
“I’ve said no. You can... have that later tonight.”
She forces herself to swallow, avoiding your eye contact.
“We both can.”
You feel your hardness starting to subside and you reach out to hug her, but she pushes away with both hooves.
“Don’t. I know you’ll do it... You’ll get us both worked up and it will happen regardless of our intentions. Go put on some clothes, I’ll just take care of this.”
She watches you leave carefully and you quickly make your way back upstairs to the bedroom you both share. Your boxes are mixed with hers, and she’s already made a mess of the room and cleaned it once; dresses that were strewn across it having folded themselves as she left to do her work. Regretful that you’re forced to make a mess yourself, you quickly empty out a box onto the bed, finding a pair of slacks and some socks. Your shirts are in another box, and your shoes another. By the time you’re dressed, you’ve got boxes of things strewn everywhere. With a sigh, you begin to straighten the place up, longing for an ounce of her magic to help the cause.

Once the cleaning is done, you check your watch. You have a half an hour left until you need to be at Sugarcube Corner. The trip won’t take but fifteen minutes of walking, so you pick up your shoes in hand and pad down the stairs. You don’t mean to be quiet, it’s more of a habit than anything else. From the top of the stairs you can see the boutique shop floor, and the door leading back into her sewing room. The light is still on, and you wonder at how long she’s taking to let out a simple garment, something so easy for someone of her skill.

As it turns out, your approach is too quiet. As you get closer, you can hear her loud, rapid breaths. Through the cracked door you catch a glimpse of her hunched over her sewing table, breath coming in rapid furious gulps.
“Nnnnhhhh harder. More.”
You creep around the crack of the door, and discover her grinding her soaked lower lips against the edge of her sewing chair. The wood of it glistens with her juices and her voice comes out in ragged gasps.
“Know you like to watch me work... so much... so soft. You like these glasses? I’ll... I’ll keep them on. I’ll keep them on for you. Can see you so much better that way.”
She twists her neck as if looking at an invisible body behind her.
“More of those... precious good fingers... You know how much I love them... keep them in there, keep them in there for days. Ohhhhh”
Her voice rises to a crescendo and she looks around the room desperately for something before giving up and dropping into her seat, panting and wild-eyed. Wordlessly she gets up and trots quickly to the door, still breathing heavily. In a rushed panic, you duck to the side of the frame and press yourself against its wall, and she hurries out the door and toward the stairs oblivious to you. Her round haunches bounce with each characteristic ladylike step, so finely ingrained in her mannerisms even at the height of her heated lust. Finally she retreats into your bedroom before calling out for you, curious as to where you’ve gotten to. When no reply comes, you hear her begin rummage about in boxes.
You take the stairs as silently as you can manage and peek into the bedroom as she upturns boxes into a disorganized mess around your room. You’re shocked that she can be unbothered by the magnitude of the mess she’s making, and you realize your stealth isn’t terribly necessary, as she’s not exactly being quiet throughout the process. You watch as she produces a number of sewing mannequin parts before finally drawing out a hand. Her tongue lolls over each finger before she lays on her back on the bed and slides it into herself. You check your watch. Almost time to be going. You watch her as she rolls about on the bed with the hand sliding in and out of herself; too stubborn to admit to you what she wants, too worked up to go without it. Her moans slip out of the room and her heavy frame shifting rocks the bed.
A stream of profanity leaves her normally ladylike mouth, words you’ve only ever heard her use on a handful of occasions in your entire time knowing her. She’s fumbling with the hand and you can see it only has a few fingers extended, not nearly enough to escape her ever growing fetish regarding your one of a kind digits. Straining against your pants you grow hard watching her, and the ache to join her builds. You’re sure she would enjoy it, you could give her as much of your hands as she wanted, but you’re running out of time before you have to leave the house, and her promises of responsibility echo in your thoughts. Reluctantly you creep backward on the hardwood floor of the hallway, praying that you don’t step on a creaky board until you make it to the stairs.
Luck favors you as you reach them and navigate the stairs silently, slipping over the banister as soon as you can and dropping quietly onto the carpet. You’re not sure the stealth is needed with the amount of noise she was making upstairs as you creep back into her sewing room to make sure she’s finished her dress and discover it folded neatly. For a moment you examine it, impressed at everything right down to the folding of it on the table. There’s not a single wrinkle in it, the corners overlap perfectly evenly, the seams where she let it out and added to it are nearly invisible. You scoop it up and make your way as loudly as you can out of the back room, bound up the stairs with as much noise as you can manage, and slowly but heavily plod down the hallway. You’re almost at the end of the hallway when she jerks her head out the door of the bedroom.
“Oh THERE you are! Well, I’ve just been looking for you, you know? Disappeared, can you grab my- And I see you have it, perfect. Be a dear and help me into it while I straighten up the room would you? Heavens, we’ve only been home a few days and it’s already in a terrible state. Did you do this? This looks like the sort of mess you’d make. I suppose you couldn’t find those clothes -any- other way?” You smile, not worried about her hasty cover up, and apologize.
She straightens up the room again with her magic as you ease the dress over her head and she steps into it. The straps cross over her back and it cuts low down to her chest as you manage it snugly around her sides and over her haunches. Immediately she looks thinner, more sleek somehow in its dark confines. She bats her eyes up at you. Now she’s trying for a more smooth cover up, obviously still bent on hiding her obsession with your hands from you.
“I was looking for something to make you some new shoes, but I guess the ones you have on will do. They were made by a true talent after all.”
She forces a smile at you, and you scratch her behind the ears. You consider briefly asking her if she wants something else from you before you go, but decide to let her keep her dignity this time. She turns her head into your affectionate touches gratefully as you maneuver out the shop and into the evening.

Night is falling as you reach Sugarcube Corner, its lights bright and windows aglow. You can hear music and laughter from inside, and you’re suddenly taken by how inviting the place seems contrasted to the growing chill and dusk about you. Next to you she stands a little less firmly than usual, you can see the incline of her body directed back toward where you’ve come from. Gently you brush her hair with your hand, and she looks up at you, nerves disappearing.
“How many times must I tell you not to do that? A lady’s hair is not to be played with, I spend hours, -hours- every day grooming it.”
You shrug, unsure how she can make the claim. In the time you were in the shower it went from matted to cleaned and styled, without the aid of a single tool. Somehow it’s remained neat through her work, playtime, and having a dress pulled over her head.
“Oh fine, but it’s a work of art. Don’t -touch- it with those...”
She looks at your hands and back to your face, but her voice has lost some of its sternness.
“...those hands of yours.”
Glad to see her mind on something else, you lean a bit in her direction and stroke her neck instead. This prompts a grateful sigh, she straightens her posture and together you walk through the door and into the party.
***
The moment the door opens, the sound of music is doubled to your ears. Not too loud, but loud enough that ponies scattered about the room are capable of holding separate, private conversations; their voices lost to its background beat. Scattered about the front of the shop are streamers and balloons, powder pink and blue. Pinkie Pie leans energetically against the counter talking happily with Applejack and Fluttershy. You look about the room for Twilight, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Every pony in town must be in attendance somewhere though, and a cheerful voice greets you above the chatter and music.
“Oh welcome welcome. Let’s just grab those coats and have you sit down. You look well. Baby doing fine, dearie?”
Mrs. Cake addresses you from your right, leading you toward a couch and graciously taking your coats on her back. With but a small display of magic Rarity lifts them both gently off of her and they zip to the coat rack.
“Why Mrs. Cake, you’ve no need to be so formal. I couldn’t dream of making you carry them. Baby’s doing fine, Twi-Twilight says.”
You catch her look around the room nervously as she mentions her friend, perhaps afraid Twilight might spring out from under a lampshade or couch cushion and accuse her of saying something too kind.
Many ponies have begun to break off and greet the both of you now, and most ask the same question as Mrs. Cake. Each time it prompts the same reply, and each time she struggles when she reaches mention of her friend. After a few replies, you jump in to help her answer the question, flanked on all sides by well wishers and greeters. You hear her answer the question again, Mrs. Cake sitting at her side. Again Rarity answers in the affirmative. The older mare finally rescues her.
“Oh well, she would know wouldn’t she? Brilliant pony that one. Goodness me but the cupcakes are nearly done from the smell of things. Would you like to come help?”
“N-Yes. Yes actually. Coming darling?”
She looks at you as she hops off the couch, eager for something else to do. She’s attracted the gaze of many a pony, and more have begun to break off and approach the couch to greet the two of you properly. Together the three of you untangle yourselves from the crowd of well meaning ponies.
“Sorry, sorry everypony! I’ll be back, just helping Mrs. Cake with a bit of baking.”
She slinks out of the room at your side, and the kitchen door clicks behind you. You’re now standing in a rather large room, island countertop in the center surrounded on all sides by walls lined with counter space and cookware. In a nook there’s a small kitchen table where you imagine the cake family take their meals. At one of several ovens, Mrs. Cake is managing a pair of oven mitts and pulling out a tray. You watch her plump sky blue figure expertly handle the task, slipping tray after tray of the steaming confections onto the counter.
“Tea’s on the stove dearie, help yourself”
Rarity chances a glance over at the pot.
“Oh no, I couldn’t. There’s plenty of punch and things out there, I’m sure they’re simply divine. I wouldn’t want to drink your tea...”
“Nonsense, pick yourself up a cup and have some. It’ll help your nerves.”
“N-nerves?”
“Well of course. One doesn’t need to be a unicorn to see you’ve got a bad case of them. Something on your mind?”
The motherly mare slips off her mitts and begins to frost the cupcakes as she talks. Rarity settles at the table with a cup of warm tea, and hovers another over to you. You lean against the counter, blowing on it gratefully.
“On my mind, no. Heavens no, just nervous to be in front of so many good ponies, that’s all.”
“Oh? Ready to take the big step soon I hope?”
Rarity gulps her tea at the baby blue pony’s insight and chokes at its surprising hotness. After a fit of coughing, eyes still watering, she manages.
“Y-you might say that.”
Mrs. Cake determinedly continues to spread the icing and adds a hoofful of sprinkles, not looking over her shoulder to spare Rarity’s infamous dignity.
“Alright over there, child?”
You walk over and pat her on the back and she splutters out her words.
“Yes... yes fine. Ah- Mrs. Cake?”
“Yes Rarity?”
“You raised Pinkie Pie, of course?”
“Of course.”
“Well... was it difficult?”
Mrs. Cake turns and leans against the counter, wiping her hooves on her apron.
“Difficult? Yes. Scary, too. Little filly, so full of energy and so happy. She was a joy to raise. Not that it was always easy of course.”
“But you’ve never had to take care of a newborn foal before?”
“Oh my goodness no, one Pinkie Pie was work enough for the two of us. Not to say it can’t be done of course, but... why ask? Not getting cold hooves I hope?”
You pick up her teacup as soon as she drains it, moving over to the other side of the room to pour her another cup. As you set it down on the table, she plods on, to your surprise.
“Cold hooves no... but nerves, yes. Yes... I’m afraid that it’s been bothering me. I’m afraid I’ve become rather a witch lately for it too... I’d love to say it’s the hormones but I’m just... it’s nerve wracking. I don’t want us to do badly. This little foal deserves the best.”
As you move over to the entrance of the kitchen to return the kettle to the stovetop, you notice the door is slightly cracked. You approach it cautiously.
“I’ve said some terrible things to Twilight recently, and I just know I shouldn’t have. She doesn’t know what it’s like though, she doesn’t understand! I’m not ready yet, just not ready. And I’m sorry for what I said to her, but I’m starting to think I shan’t ever be... ready for this.”
You chance a glance back over your shoulder, and when you look back the door is no longer cracked. Was it your imagination, or a trick of the light? You shrug and lean your body against it as she gushes onward.
“Too much to think about, too much to change... will we still have time for each other? Am I a bad parent for hoping we’ll still have some time to be together? What if we really ARE poor parents?”
Mrs. Cake looks at the ceiling, likely unable to meet the awkward question with a direct look.
“Well, it’s always a possibility I suppose. But I don’t think you will be.”
“But what if we ARE?”
“Would somepony who doesn’t have the presence of mind to take care of her foal really be fretting about it now, with her on the way? You should have confidence in yourself Rarity. Both of you should. Heaven knows you won’t have much else when that foal gets here. I hear they take a great deal of time.”
This joke drops to total silence. Mrs. Cake smiles encouragingly, but Rarity looks pleased to finally get an answer, something she can latch her mind around and focus on.
“So that’s the trick to good parenting? Confidence?”
“Oh goodness me no! I haven’t been confident about a thing since Pinkie arrived on our doorstep what seems like just yesterday. Second guessed myself every step of the way.”
Rarity’s smile droops.
“But you have to let them think you do. They can feel it if you don’t trust yourselves. Think about your own for a moment, and they’re something to imagine; always had your best at heart, always had an answer.”
Rarity scrunches her nose and looks at her tea.
“Not... not particularly, in my case. But I do think I know what you mean. Make them comfortable? Act like I know what I’m doing?”
“Act like you know what you’re doing, and you might find you know more than you do.”
Mrs. Cake winks encouragingly, playing with one of her earrings.
“You’re a good girl Rarity, and you’ve married an excellent...”
She struggles to think of the word for what you are, but sighs and gives up.
“Well, you’ve got an excellent husband. Sorry dearie, sorry!” she glances at you and laughs her high nervous laugh. You fake a very obvious pout.
“Oh look, see? All these years and I still hurt a young one’s feelings from time to time!”
“Where do I get it, then?”
Mrs. Cake looks up as she’s interrupted by Rarity’s more serious tone. Your ivory pony has her cheek resting on her hoof and her brow is furrowed in introspection.
“Get what, dear?”
“Confidence. I don’t feel very confident.”
Mrs. Cake blushes, rising to rejoin the crowd outside.
“Well, Carrot’s always telling me confidence is in the bottom of a cupcake. But I sometimes think he just likes his mares thick and filled out.”
Rarity rolls her eyes before they settle on you playfully.
“Yes, I simply can’t imagine what it would be like to have a spouse who’s constantly pushing such sweet things off on you.”
Mrs. Cake reaches the door to the kitchen and you remove yourself your position propped against it. She looks over at Rarity with a smile.
“Well, you can help yourself to all the confidence you need, just be quick about it. We’ve a party going on out here for you!”
With that, she ducks out of the room, and you turn back to your wife. Rarity looks at you quizzically and takes a cautious bite of one of the cupcakes now cooling on the table. You watch each careful bite she takes. She rolls her eyes over to you and you sip your tea quietly, observing her. Finally she breaks the silence.
“Well? Come over here and sit down. I’m not ready to go out there yet.”
You slink into the seat across from her and slide her your cupcake as she finishes hers.
“What? You don’t want it?”
You shrug and pretend to act disinterested.
“Oh no you don’t. I know that look. You like this...”
She licks the frosting carefully off the top and chews the next one slowly.
“Oh GOODNESS. Mrs. Cake certainly can bake, these are just heavenly. She really has outdone herself.”
Your long reach extends to the counter where you pick up a now cooled tray of them, offering it to her.
“You want me to eat ALL of these?”
You offer her just one, and she sips her tea before beginning on it. In less than a minute it’s disappeared, and she’s starting on the next one you’re offering her. She carefully licks the frosting off her lips as she polishes off two more before sitting back in her seat.
“That’s enough of them, I think. I shouldn’t want to finish an entire tray.”
You nudge her hoof under the table with your foot encouragingly, and she narrows her eyes at you.
“No. Absolutely not.”
You slide one across the table to her carefully, distracting her with both feet attacking her hooves. She slides back in her chair to remove her hooves from your range and the sudden motion sends jiggles of flesh through her dress. She frowns as your hand has to adjust the growing hardness within your pants.
“You’ve nothing but a sex drive, you know that? Such a simple man.”
You lean across the table and nudge the cupcake closer in reply, and she swipes it up an chomps down into it angrily.
“This is the last one. The LAST one!”
Her stomach growls in disagreement, and the blush spreads all the way up to her horn. She sniffles a bit.
“Can’t you see I’m trying to behave? You know what Twilight said. We’re not acting like proper adults.”
You ease out of your chair and take up a stance behind her chair, draping your arms around her shoulders and pulling her back into your body chair and all. She twists her head to look at you.
“I’m just so worried, and the cupcakes aren’t helping.”
You reach down to retrieve it from her side, and she snatches it away from you.
“It’s mine, alright? I want to eat it. And... and I know you want to watch me eat it.”
You squeeze her shoulders with your hands and she slowly munches on it, looking up to you as she does so, managing smalltalk as she makes her way through it.
“I’ll never understand your tastes, honestly.”
She takes a bite.
“You weren’t interested in such things before.”
Another bite.
“Would you like me to look like Mrs. Cake, after the baby?”
The rest of it goes into her mouth.
“All that spare pony to love?”
You swallow hard and nod, the thought of her with some extra body mass even after the baby an entirely enticing prospect.
“I knew it.”
Her accusing tone snaps you back.
“You were looking at Mrs. Cake. Did you LIKE what you saw? Was it perfect and cushy and soft?”
You step back a bit, unsure what to say. You can’t explain why you find bigger ponies attractive.
“Well, there’s only one solution.”
She picks up a tray of cupcakes with her magic, advancing on you with a forced scowl on her face.
“You’ll feed me them. You’ll stuff every last one in, until I can’t take any more of them, and then you’ll put in more. So many, until you have eyes for nopony but me. Until you can tell me I’m pretty. I don’t care if I can’t move, you’ll spend the rest of your life rubbing this stomach and telling me just how beautiful it is.”
You don’t need to stuff her to tell her she’s pretty. You’ve known it all along, and she’s always been the most beautiful pony you’ve set eyes on. It was her who taught you just how much you enjoyed having more pony to love, truly taught you the fact, and you tell her so. Her advance falters, expression wobbling a bit.
“You did say such precious things the other night... when we cuddled in the moonlight. Don’t you remember?”
You remember it, and you’re dying to remind her that what she was starting and neglected to finish that night doesn’t count as cuddling in any pony’s books.
“Then... of course, I’m being silly. I’m the one holding back after all.”
You sigh a great burst of relief, glad she’s caught on to the fact. You walk over to the kitchen door and bolt it before unzipping your pants, certain her revelation will spark a renewal of interest. It doesn’t.
“Oh no. I’m holding my ground, you’ll not get a thing until tonight. Put that away and keep it away.”
Her stomach growls again, and you can hear it across the room.
“But... perhaps we CAN see to the cupcakes? It would be terribly rude not to sample all of Mrs. Cake’s baking.”
You scoop up a cupcake from the counter top and rush her with it, and she canters backward to put the table between the two of you, half-finished tray bouncing at her side in the air as she does so.
“No! Finish this one first! We have to finish this tray first!”
You hurry around the table and grab for her as bursts into a git of giggles and laughter, the tray of cupcakes hovering alongside her as she tries to maneuver her immense body away. Cornered against her own chair, you get to grab a handful of thick backside as she twists about trying to break free, slapping you playfully in the face with her tail. The fabric of her dress is soft and acts much akin to a pillowcase as your hand disappears into the massive expanses of her posterior. The other hand roughly manages to get some of the cupcake in her laughing mouth, the rest of it getting icing all about her face.
She swivels on her hooves and manages to meet your lips with hers, filling your mouth with sweet icing and soft warm tongue. You feel her gently probe the inside of your mouth, and your view of her disappears as you close your eyes, swept up in the sudden intensity of her lips. Where normally she contents herself with a single lengthy kiss, the hungry unicorn separates this one into a series of forceful lip locks that lap against your mouth until both of your breathing is heavy. Her hooves grope at your manhood through their cloth prison, and she fumbles with your belt. You manage your eyes open and take in the sight of her, so happy and comfortable once more. She blushes as her eyes open and meet yours.
“I’m beginning to believe Mrs. Cake. About- about the cupcakes that is.”
You take the tray from her side and lift one up to her mouth. She plops down onto her haunches and holds her mouth open as you gently help her manage each bite. Both hands are kept busy, one doing the feeding as the other carefully catches crumbs before they can slip onto her elegant dress. She finishes three and a half before she’s licking the icing from her lips and face, asking you to help her finish it. You slip the bite into your mouth and lean down, locking your lips to hers and pressing it into her mouth with your tongue. She resists your tongue with her own in surprise and both of your mouths fill with the sudden pressed together sweet taste. Rarity’s assessment of Mrs. Cake’s baking is spot on, and you savor the moist treat as your wife continues to play with the food within your mouths. Each licking of her tongue, each passionate desperate touch pulls away more of the sweet prize into her mouth, and by the end she’s practically lapping at your tongue with hers to get the last of the icing from it. As she breaks the kiss, you hold up another cupcake for her and her eyes widen.
“That’s the last one from the pan, yes? That’ll be a good dozen at least... not that you mind, you terribly naughty thing.”
You pop it into her mouth and her eyes close, consumed by the tasting of it. You know how badly she wants to lose her strength here, how much she wants to attack the half dozen more pans of sweet party treats around you, to strip your clothes off and cuddle against your body. Somehow you imagine Mrs. Cake’s invitation extends to more of them than you’d initially thought, and you take to your feet as she continues to savor the baked good within her mouth. As soon as she swallows, you’re offering another, and another as soon as that one is in her mouth. As she chews at the large amount you heft her into your arms and set her back in her seat, forcing yourself to behave as it groans under the load of white coated, black wrapped pony you’ve deposited upon it. As soon as she’s in her seat you’re hiking her dress up over her hips and bunching it up above her stomach so that you can get a clearer view.
Her stomach juts out in front of her, stretched taught as she reclines, hanging down between her legs now that she’s seated. She blushes and tries to say something between attempts to swallow, but you take her open mouth as an invitation and pop in another treat, forcing her cheeks to swell with the new mouthful. She looks at you poutily as she gulps them down and manages another, and another after it. Now she’s reclined completely, hooves rubbing her stomach as you help her finish off the second pan. Between her legs you can see the glistening of her lower lips, and she blushes as you stare.
“You can feed me a few more. Just a few more, alright? But you have to help me too. I want those... hands of yours, all mine.”
You gently rub her tummy with one, the other offering her what she asks for. She holds open her mouth and you deposit it inside, but she doesn’t stop there. Her lips wrap around one of your fingers and she begins to work her tongue across it. You gently tease her tongue with your probing digit as she starts to moan. Finally she pushes your finger out of her mouth and begins to chew the sweet your hand left there. As she swallows, she looks at you suddenly serious.
“Mrs. Cake was only half right. It’s not confidence, I daresay I’ve plenty of that... its you. You’re the confidence I need right now. Please stay close to me tonight.”
You smile and pull her into you, kissing her gently as she sniffles up against you. You try to pick apart her meaning, but she strikes with a seriousness entirely unexpected of the tender moment you’d just been sharing.
“We’ll be good parents if we stay together. That’s what you told me this afternoon, right? So stay next to me tonight and forever. Stay close no matter what. Don’t leave me again, don’t leave us like you tried to in the rain.”
You feel a sudden sharpness invade your posture and she carries on before you can put in your two cents, before you can tell her you’d rather be lost to her than lose her. The very thought is terrifying. Just imagining having to go on without her you feel almost as if you’re back in those waters, up to your neck in icy cold. You shiver for a moment.
“I know how you feel, and I’m scared too. I’ve been so scared since then... and I know you’re not good at talking about it, so I know I have to talk for both of us now. You don’t want to lose me, and I don’t want to lose you. But we can’t think that one of us is more important. We both have to live. Understand? No matter what, I won’t leave your side again.”
You rub away a tear that was springing into her eye.
“Now I’m not going to cry. I can’t cry tonight, people will know I’ve been crying.”
She forces an immense sniffle and blinks away tears again.
“Just know that for the rest of our lives, I want you by my side. I decided that when we got married, so don’t put me out of your reach, because you know you’d hate it if I did that for you.”
You swallow and nod, trying to think of a way to explain your side to her before she can continue, but she does, and the words pour out in a way you’d never expected.
“Don’t think that it’ll always work the way it did then, that protecting me from harm will protect the baby too. There’s going to be-”
You try to say something but she pushes at your chest with her hooves and looks angrily down her nose at you. She can’t force shouting, the words come out a hoarse choked hiss, one last attempt at maintaining perfect poise and control befitting a lady.
“Listen to me! Listen now! There’s going to be things... things we can’t always protect her from. You know it and I do too. Other foals, adventures she’ll have without us... but as long as she’s with us, we have to protect her together. She can’t... she can’t grow up without daddy, you understand me? She has to have you too, or it’s pointless. So stop it. Don’t run away from this, and I promise I won’t either. We’re not perfect adults, but we’re the best we can be, as often as we can be. You make me that. I could never be that without you.”
You’re stunned into silence, and your harsh rebuttal is forgotten. Your retorts about safety and statistics about better parenting stick in your throat. You know somewhere she’s right. You can’t boil it down to which one of you that you’d pick, it always has to be both of you. You know you’d be sorely outmatched parenting alone. The very thought of performing the task alone leaves your mouth dry, and your mind grinds to a halt as you realize she’s on the same page as you.

You’ve finally reached the conclusion that’s held you back ever since your brush with death in the mountains only a few days ago. It’s been an insecurity for far longer, which of you would be more important, but the courage and wit you each inspire your partner is finally, obviously, inseparable from the other. You brush her hair out of her eyes and whisper to her that you understand. That she shouldn’t cry, and she should never cry about it again. You’ll stay by her side to whatever end it sees. She nuzzles your face with hers, and where you expect tears there’s only a smile.

“This is it then, yes? After this it gets better? No more uncertainty?”

There’s a knock at the door behind you and she practically jumps out of her seat.

You pull her dress quickly back over her stomach and hurry to the door to remove the pan that bars it, awkwardly fumbling for an explanation of how it got there and what you’ve been doing. The door’s barely unlocked before it swings open, nearly colliding with your body as you step back hastily. Twilight Sparkle fills the small doorway, and Rainbow Dash’s sky blue hoof pushes her in before pulling the door shut. Twilight looks over her shoulder moodily and then her gaze is on you and Rarity.
“Rarity-”
“Good evening Twilight. I hope you’re doing well.”
There’s no sincerity in the thick unicorn’s voice as she wipes her face of stray frosting and tears. Twilight looks around the room, gaze determined to spot anything but Rarity at this point.
“I’m doing fine. Yourselves and the foal?”
“Physically fine, at least from what you tell me.”
“A-About that. This afternoon.”
Rarity looks at the lavender pony through narrowed eyes.
“Twilight, I know what you’re in here to say and it’s no use if Rainbow Dash makes you say it.”
“Makes me- She’s not making me say anything, alright? Stop ASSUMING things about us.”
Rarity seems on the verge of saying something, but she bites her tongue. She looks to you, and you move right to where you promised you’d be. If she and Twilight are going to choose here and now to fall out, she doesn’t have to weather it alone. She looks up gratefully at you before replying, uncertainly.
“I think that we’re both... guilty of assuming things, Twilight. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I do. I know you and...”
“Don’t say anything! Don’t talk about that, alright? Not here, not yet. We’re not ready, and I don’t know who’s listening.”
Rarity nods, prepared to finish what she was saying a bit more quietly, but Twilight gets the jump on her. The seal between them is broken by Rarity’s initial apology, and however irrelevant that apology might have been compared to the bigger issue of what was said in your home that afternoon isn’t as important as what comes next. Their eyes lock and it spills out into the quiet that had choked the room.
“I’m sorry for what I said.”
Twilight’s gaze never wavers from Rarity’s eyes as she manages it.
“I’m sorry because I’m your friend, and I shouldn’t say that. Any pony who works as hard as you did to protect your family, any pony who asks for help as often as you do, obviously cares about her foal.”
“That’s true. And you’re right, you shouldn’t have said what you did to us.”
You have to restrain the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth as Rarity spits the retort out.
“But you were right about something else also. There’s more to raising a baby than just wanting what’s best for her. You need wisdom and confidence, as I’ve learned all too recently. And what confidence I get robs me of wisdom sometimes.”
She looks up at you encouragingly.
“I’m glad to have a friend who can say what needs to be said, Twilight. Thank you so much for saying the things that must be hardest to say.”
Twilight’s amethyst eyes flood with tears and she blinks them back.
“Somehow I didn’t expect you to recognize that. How hard it is to tell one of your friends you think they’re irresponsible that is... But then, you did it too.”
Rarity cocks her head at Twilight’s outburst.
“When you mentioned Dash and Pinkie still pranking. And she and I aren’t much better when we’re- And we hide, and we don’t want to tell anyone, and we don’t know what they’ll say and-”
She’s pacing about the kitchen now, eyes fixated on the ceiling. Rarity eases out of her chair and the heavy click of her hooves on the tiled floor brings her to Twilight’s side. Ponyville’s lilac coloured scholar slumps her shoulders as she buries her head into your wife’s abundant and soft side, sniffles managing out as she rambles on.
“And I don’t know what my family would say or hers, or how long she’s felt that way about mares, or just how long she’ll keep feeling for me, or if I’m the only one she’s ever felt for, and if she wants to settle down ever like you two have done, or if that’s even possible. And if I’m not ready, and if she’s... just as scared.”
Rarity shushes her and her horn takes on its soft ruby-quartz coloured glow. You watch as a tray of cupcakes hovers over to Twilight’s side.
“You know what I find gives me courage? A nice cupcake or two.”
Twlight sniffles and look around the room at the three scattered and empty cupcake pans.
“Were those you? You must have needed a-”
Sniffle.
“An awful lot of courage.”
She takes a cupcake as you all chuckle at the joke. Rarity picks up on it and continues forward toward the kitchen door, wiping her friend’s eyes.
“Well, I have discovered of late that the cupcake isn’t as important as the person who gives it to you. I do believe we find all our confidence when we are safe... Safe among our friends.”
She stresses the last word. Twilight halts in front of the door takes a napkin you’re offering her and blows her nose before laughing at the lesson.
“Dear Princess Celestia?”
Twilight nods in agreement.
“Dear Princess Celestia.”
The two of them laugh at the joke and you usher them out the door and into the party.

The rest of the night hurries past you. Rarity takes her place next to you on the couch, and her closest friends surround it. Behind your heads Applejack leans over, occasionally remarking upon a gift somepony has given both of you for the baby. Squished into the couch beside you two are Twilight and Dash, the latter of whom sits half on the arm of the sofa. At your feet, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie sit on their haunches, and the girls give boisterous laughs whenever one of them stumbles upon a particularly fond memory or recent occasion. Together you all coo over new things for the baby, from toys to clothes to blankets to silverware. As the party winds down, Pinkie Pie shuts off the music starts to clean up with the Cakes. Rarity is marvelling over a particularly fine set of baby sized silverware, and Twilight reclines exhausted with her head on one of Dash’s flanks. The Rainbow maned mare is hard at working disguising her pleasure at having actually solved a problem that was bothering her partner earlier, and positively beams as Twilight hands the two of you both of their gifts.

Rarity carefully unfolds the wrapping from a book gifted by both of Ponyville’s finest, and she smiles as she discovers that it’s a parenting question and answer book. She sets it gently on the ever growing stack of things in your lap before working at the envelope that came with it. Before she can, Dash’s voice cuts in.
“This... this isn’t really fitting for a baby shower, I know. I just- Well, we thought, y’know, you should be there for it.”
The envelope contains a pair of tickets to a crafter’s exposition in Canterlot this coming weekend.
“Since the baby’s coming in just a few weeks, we thought you should probably drum up some business for the Boutique.”
Twilight cuts in now.
“And well, this just seemed appropriate...I mean, because, well...”
Twilight fumbles over her words past this point, and ends up blushing as Dash laughs and hugs her girlfriend.
“Ohhh Twilight, you go right ahead and tell her why sharing’s so-”
“Rainbow-”
Your wife’s voice interrupts.
“It’s an honor Twilight. We’d love to go. Are you sure it’s alright though? They must be so hard to come by!”
Twilight breaks from her faux lover’s quarrel to offer Rarity’s a sincere smile.
“Yes. You’re the perfect pony to go. I just know you’ll both enjoy it.”
“Oh I simply can’t wait! I hear the expo-ball is particularly beautiful. Can you imagine? Dancing all night, a five star hotel, and the next day- oh to speak to some of the designers and craftsponies!”
Rarity pulls Twilight and Dash into a sudden hug you wouldn’t have thought possible but for the angle her sunken seat on the couch affords around her swollen stomach. The other two return the embrace somewhat awkwardly, not used to handling the expected delicacy of an eight months pregnant unicorn. You watch enviously as she leans forward to extend the hug and her dress bunches up at the sides.
The need to have her up against you grows suddenly and unexpectedly. You gently tug on the straps of her dress, and she twists around to find your hand resting on her stomach. You expect her to look at you unfazed, the ritual of pressing one’s hoof to her belly having become commonplace as the night went on and well-wishers surrounded the couch. There’s an inkling of surprise as you remember how much your hands affect her, and blush creeps into her.
“Twilight, Darling?”
Twilight Sparkle looks up from where she’s reclined against Dash’s flank once more.
“Something on your mind, Rarity?”
You shush her and form the question the way you want to, and she silently reclines and allows her tummy to be rubbed. You tell Twilight that Rarity’s horn was very sensitive recently, despite not normally being so. Could there be a reason it came and went?
Twilight thinks for a moment before looking about the nearly empty room. Pinkie, Applejack, and Fluttershy have retreated to help Mr. Cake clean up the kitchen, and only Mrs. Cake remains in the room, gathering up streamers and humming to herself obliviously. In a sudden motion, Twilight slips her hoof up against Dash’s back and into the fold between her side and her wings. You hear a sharp intake of breath and Dash barely suppresses a moan.
“Unicorns and Pegasi sometimes exert themselves too much, whether it’s athletics or magic. It’s no different than if anypony works a certain muscle too hard... But it’s different for everypony, some ponies have their feelings mixed up there. What should ache or hurt feels good or thrilling. If you work it out that way too often, the tenderness can be present throughout the day. As you can see...”
her voice trails off as she slips the hoof around again and Dash grinds herself against the arm of the couch involuntarily. None of this is helping you quell the rising lust for the thick pony at your side.
“If you did the kind of magic you told me about... well that’s pretty big stuff, Rarity. It’s possible your horn might be tender after. It’s also possible it might give you a better workout than running about at this point. Just look at me!”
Twilight leans back, barely a hint of pudge on her. It’s a shame in your opinion, she and Dash are both so sleek and fit. Too fit, if you had your way; but you sneak a hand over to your wife’s flank and grip a handful of it while the other two are occupied. Rarity’s face has taken on a rose colour at this point, and covering her embarrassment she twists around and pecks you on the lips.
“Woooo!”
Dash fumbles around on the arm of the couch, making fun at your wife’s sudden lust. You pull Rarity over to you as soon as the kiss breaks, remembering what happened the last time things escalated around Twilight and Dash, and not feeling particularly like sharing again. Twilight watches the motion and smiles at you.
“I think it’s time Rainbow and I got going. Are you two going in our direction? We’ll walk you to your doorstep.”
You’re not sure if she’s trying to muscle in, but Rarity straightens her hair up and nods.
“It would be our pleasure to have the company. Just to the doorstep though, I’m positively exhausted.”
Twilight and Dash walk you toward the house at roughly the same time the rain starts. At first it’s just a couple drops, but before long it’s pouring down on all of you. Normally she’d run for shelter and try to cover her hair, but now Rarity walks steadily at your side, occasionally glancing up the heavens. Dash halts several times to survey her handiwork, and Rarity seems on the verge of saying something about the frequency of the rain. You reach the boutique relatively wet and personally quite cold. Dash and Twilight continue onward toward the library with speed, and disappear into the darkness of the night after quickly wishing you well. Rarity fumbles with the lock on your home, and you chance a look over the tall building. Never have you been so pleased to be a homeowner, never have you been so privately content to be in control of your life and residence as you are now, finally getting out of the frigid rain.

She swings the door open but stops you with a hoof and points at your shoes. With a grumble you take them off in the doorway, trying to determine how she avoided the same mud puddles you stepped in without ever leaving your side. You feel her nose bump up against your hand, and notice that she’s appraising your ring hand. Expecting her fetish for your hands to be acting up again, you hold it out carefully for her, wondering what naughty teasing method she has in mind for that poor limb. Instead she scrunches up her face and the ring bursts into light. You feel yourself dragged bodily into the room, and the front door slams shut behind you, blocking out the last light of outside and leaving only her horn and your hand to illuminate the darkness around you. In the otherwise lightless room shadows play into her face and loom up around you as she narrows her eyes, finally in control of your entire body, lifting you into the air with a bit of effort.
“Nfff... been waiting all day. It’s my own fault, of course.”
You float up the stairs, body glowing, the steady thud of her heavy hoof falls signalling that she’s following you.
“Oh the things I’ve wanted... and you, so naughty in Mrs. Cake’s bakery.”
Your arm clips the edge of the hallway and you wince, sure it’ll bruise. She’s in a hurry, and if she notices, she says nothing.
“Will you be good to me tonight?”
You’re about to say something when the words stick in your throat as you tumble head over heels in the air. Suddenly the magic around you crumbles, and you slam onto the bed with a thud and creak of mattress springs. You can hear her exhausted panting as she approaches the bed, massive body undetectable in the dark but for the considerable noise she’s making while moving.
“I want it... so badly, right now. Hard, and rough.”
Lightning flashes and illuminates the room, followed by a sudden tear of thunder. She screams and leaps onto the bed, knocking the breath out of you as she lands her back hooves onto your pelvis and front hooves onto your stomach. Instinctively you jerk upward and push her off of you and onto her side. Over your groaning you can hear her. She’s reeling off excuses and apologies when the lightning and thunder come again without warning, and through the haze of confusion and pain shooting through your lower body, you feel her considerably large figure shuddering up against you.
“Lights! LIGHTS!”
Light bursts from her horn and she gropes about in the sudden glare for the lamp. You manage to uncurl from your foetal position and find her fumbling with the switch. There’s a clicking sound and the room is bathed in a soft warm glow.
“S-sorry... Oh your poor... Oh GOODNESS!”
She rushes over and tries to pull your hands away from where you’re cupping your now aching member.
“Let me see it, I can... I can help, let me make sure it’s ok!”
You shake your head at her and groan again. The pain is subsiding and she all but missed the mass of it, but guilting her a bit can’t hurt your chances for some tenderness in lieu of whatever she had planned. Her eyes narrow and she focuses her magic on you again. Your hands are thrown aside and pinned to the bed, and despite your struggling she completes the spell and wiggles your trousers down, freeing your stiffening cock. She cups it with her hooves and begins to stroke it lovingly.
“Poor thing... I didn’t mean to... will you still be good to me tonight?”
Slowly she coaxes life back into it, and gives a triumphant “Wuahaha!” as it grows hard in her hooves. You try to free your arms again, but she pins them down with more difficulty this time, the exertion beginning to take its toll on her as she pants.
“Stop struggling! I want it tonight!”
You want it tonight too, and you tell her so.
“I... you GOT your fun, today, in the bakery. And honestly, trying to pull this out in there? Shameful. Simply shameful. No, I think tonight we’ll just leave it in. No thrusting, or anything of the sort.”
You manage to pry your hand off the bed and she looks warily at it, increasing her concentration until its approach toward her is painfully slow. Your muscles ache as you fight her magic, but slowly you begin to overpower it. She slaps your arm roughly with her tail.
“No! You may... You are ALLOWED tonight, to use those as I see fit. Understand?”
Not sure why she’s being so difficult, you flex again and find your whole body pressed harder against the bed. Unable to stop your individual limbs through focus, she’s settled for forcing your figure as a whole into the mattress. She leans her head into you and whispers in your ear.
“Put your fingers in me, and you won’t get hurt, Prince Charming.”

She turns her body about and settles her mouth around your erection. To her credit she’s mindful of its slight soreness from the earlier accident, only taking the head into her mouth at first and gently probing at it with her tongue. It’s a treatment you only get from her on very rare occasions, more subtle than her usual aggressive approach. You feel the tongue lap at the underside of your tip, probe gently at the entrance, slide around and over it. There’s a small ache as she gently presses it up against the roof of her mouth and holds it there, set firmly between the strength of her tongue and the firmness of her hard palette. Remembering her request vaguely, you test out your arms. They’re free. Before she can protest, you grab a handful of her meaty haunches.
They’re immense, and your entire hand disappears into one, the softness of her coat and the cushiness of her rear inspiring you to flex your hardon in her mouth. It aches a bit to do so, but she pulls her mouth off of it and looks around the immensity of her body at you. “Such a bad man... Are those big flanks so distracting? Your lady had a request for you.”
She suddenly forces her body backward and up against your face. You push your tongue into her, driving her forward on the bed with the unexpectedness of the assault on her labia. She grips hooffuls of sheets and cranes her neck up to the ceiling, her moans of pleasure filling the room and spilling out into the boutique. As you force your tongue into her you smack at her flanks with both hands, sending her thick buttocks rolling around your face. She bites down on the sheets in front of her to avoid crying out and you increase the pace and strength of your spanking. She loses her grip on the bed and flails desperately about with cries to keep going. You slow to a stop to tease her but she’s already over the edge. She gropes helplessly about on the bed, rolling onto her side and rubbing her stinging posterior and sopping slit until you watch her cum. She rolls her head over to you and manages to pant out words.
“You’re so... so bad. Mmmmnnn... so very bad tonight. What put you in such a mood? Was it the foreplay and the snacks? Hmmm?”
You grab her still sore flanks and squeeze, pillowy softness abundant.
“Would you like them bigger? I know you would. We’ll trade. Stuff me later. Give me your hands now.”
You slip a finger into her and she immediately grabs the other hand, greedily licking at it, eyes wild with sudden want and lust. She sucks on your fingers for a few moments and you ease another digit into her, prompting the opposite hand’s release.
“Oh give me more of them.”
Familiar with her request, you push in two more, and the suddenness leaves her moaning and pushing your spare hand onto her face. From behind your palm you hear her positively shout.
“Squeeze my face!”
Her face? The beautiful face she prizes so dearly? You give a gentle squeeze and you feel her tighten her womanhood around your opposite hand.
“HARDER!”
Still cautious you squeeze again, not sure what she wants this for. Magic bursts into being suddenly in the room, and your hands are working on their own. The hand inside her is folding at the thumb and sliding all the way in, and you feel each finger on her face contract until she’s groaning. Twilight’s words ring in your ears and you wonder if she doesn’t enjoy a bit of soreness. The idea sparks a thought in you, and you pull your free hand back with all your strength. She whines in protest and gives her spell everything she’s got. Before long the magical tug of war ends, both of you on your sides panting. She crawls toward you and forces her lips against yours, kissing at you furiously. You contract your busy hand into a fist inside her and she groans and melts into your arms. The other hand begins to stroke at her horn, obviously sore from the tug of war. You can feel the tightening around your hand, see the hunger in her eyes as she pulls herself quickly off your hand and mounts you.

She’s much bigger than the last time she took up this position all those nights ago in front of your apartment fridge. Now the weight is heavy on your legs, and her stomach juts out in front of her and all the way up to your chest. There’s a veritable mountain of gut between you two now, the weight of it resting on your torso almost half equal in your mind to the weight she’s put on your legs. You marvel at how enormous she’s become, and she rests her taught cupcake filled belly on you, working herself onto your manhood with a bit of effort. She lifts herself up and drops unceremoniously down, the cushiness of her thick haunches easing the blow for both of you.
You watch as the many inch drop leaves every piece of her body quaking and jiggling. She lifts and drops again, increasing her pace steadily. You begin to help her up and down until she’s moving at a pace that leaves you gritting your teeth to hold on, and her bucking her hips desperately for more. You manage to get your thumb on her clit and she tightens around you in thanks. You flex yourself inside her as a reply, and she picks up the speed until her cries of pleasure become one, steady, low note. You can feel the orgasm welling up, can feel the culmination of her hard work finally coming to climax. What follows is a flood.
You cum with incredible force and volume, days of denial finally filling her insides with warmth and sticky wetness. Her note of pleasure rises until it’s a high pitched cry, only interspersed with gasps for air and begging for you to fill her up. You do precisely that and then some, unloading an outrageous amount of your semen into her. She slides off the slick pole and flops onto her side, and you crawl toward her on your knees, feeling more and more shots of hot cum welling up and spurting out.She thrusts her tongue out invitingly, trying feebly to catch them. Some stronger bursts fly across the length of the bed as you traverse it, but you finally manage to get pointed at her face and she clamps her mouth over the gushing source and begins to gulp and smack greedily. You rub her horn as she does so and you hear her legs begin to kick. Stubbornly, she stays clamped onto your member as you feel another surge explode out and into her mouth. She guzzles it down hungrily and looks up at you for several moments. Finally she pulls her mouth off and looks down at it curiously.
“It’s still hard... can you... go again?”
You’re not sure, it’s been a long time since you went this long without some form of release.
“Is there more of...”
She licks her lips for more traces of it, finds them, and smacks her mouth with satisfaction after a series of grateful swallows.

And without finishing her request, she’s back wrapped around the head, tongue hanging out and massaging the length of the shaft. It’s not as tidy as her usual blowjobs, often veering off to the sides of her mouth and pressing out her cheeks, as if she’s trying to work every angle and get each precious drop of your seed onto her tongue. The pleasure is unbelievable, still riding on the edges of the last still receding orgasm. She relents only long enough to flop onto her side and spread her legs invitingly.
“I know this isn’t the most ladylike way but... But I know what you want. I know how you want it now. You want me like a proper call-filly. Here I am... Come now... my womb full of our foal, stomach stuffed with sweets, thick haunches swollen with desserts, fillyparts just fit to bursting with your handiwork. Not a part of my body is empty, and here I am, wanting... more. Fill me up with more.”
Her voice drops to a husky growl, her dirty talk working its way through your mind. She knows your fantasies, but you know hers also. You force your hand back up to the wrist in her loosened lower folds. The surprise move elicits a squeal and she pulls you down around her tummy, trying to reach your mouth with hers, face inches from your own. She thrusts her tongue out as a last resort and you meet it with yours, spare hand helping her onto her hooves. Slowly you ease her into the new position, and she flicks her tail aside with a small sigh of contentedness, inviting your manhood to take her other hole.
You look about for some means of lubricant and are about to settle for the already slickened hand, but as you withdraw it it’s too much for her. Her forelegs buckle completely, and juices gush forth from her love tunnel. From her mouth she makes a noise akin to a balloon deflating and her face buries into one of the pillows on your bed. You can hear her sigh turn to a cry of surprise as you thrust into her womanhood at that precise moment. You bury your thickness to the hilt as she squirms around it. You couldn’t ask for better lubrication than the gushing geyser of liquid she’s producing, and you slide a couple fingers into the pucker of her ass as you continue to thrust into her still squirting privates.
Her stream of juices continues to spray around the bed until it slows as a gentle trickle down your thighs as you reposition yourself, pulling out of her lower lips and sliding gracefully and slowly into the hole above. You can hear her crying into the pillow, and you gently tug at her mane until she turns her face to you.
“I’m fine... so... too much... incredible... Please...”
You thrust experimentally and she half laughs half whimpers.
“I never knew it could feel this good. It’s so good.”
You can’t argue. You’d have never expected the sensations gripping you as your reward for holding out the last two days. Every inch of your member is at its maximum sensitivity, still ringing with the echos of your last uninterrupted victory. You begin to thrust and slip one hand back down to her womanhood, rubbing at her clit. She has to bite the pillow to avoid drooling, eyes rolling upward. Tears build at the corners of her eyes and even through the improvised gag you can hear her practically screaming in ecstasy. Minutes of furious pounding pass as you reach a clapping thundering beat that fills your spacious bedroom. Liquid continues to trickle in spurts from her privates, bearing with it remnants of your seed. The working hand becomes slick and sticky with your mingled juices, and you slide it back into her up to the wrist. You feel her convulse around you, hooves narrowly missing your body as she kicks with them in alternating desperation. Her horn bursts into light and without warning your ring hand grabs her mane and forces her face deeper into the pillow as she kicks and bucks.
You keep thrusting, body aching, manhood throbbing. You can feel it building up as a dull ache in the back of your testes before it thunders out, coating her insides with hot white fluids. She squirms and moans as she cums around your hand, losing her control over your grip and unable to maintain the concentration. She manages to scream desperate words from her buried position.
“Coming again! I’m. Coming. Again! Keep pushing! My neck! Oh my neck and horn!”
You grab her head and push her roughly into the pillow with one hand, other hand jerking at her horn furiously as you would your own manhood. Around you she kicks and bucks desperately, sheets and pillows flying everywhere. She shreds at her own pillow until she rolls over and it flies out of reach. You force her face into your chest and feel her bite down hard as she cums in your arms. You flop onto your back with her in your arms, both breathing heavily. Every now and then with a less than subtle squirting noise more of your co-mingled juices spurt onto the now bare mattress from her body. She’s played container to all manner of both your liquids tonight and the bed around you is covered in stains to prove it. You rub the most important container of all, and she relaxes slowly, panting as you massage her tummy.
“So perfect... together, we’re so perfect. You see? Never go anywhere. Never leave my side.”
You kiss her horn, and she moans.
“S-suck on it... just a little bit.”
You look at her awkwardly, not sure you’ll be good at it, but you lick and massage at it with your tongue. Her eyes relax and close, and her breathing steadies in your arms.
“Now, like I do for you.”
A bit uncomfortable with the role reversal, blush fills your cheeks.
“I’ll not tell darling... please, just for me?”
Reluctantly you start to bob your head up and down and she rubs her sides as her breathing quickens. You’re not sure what’s supposed to happen, but your eyes are drawn to the womanhood she’s desperately trying to reach with her hooves. You’re amazed she can still possibly be in the mood, your own member having finally calmed; when with an unceremonious grunt you watch as she tightens herself, squirting the last bulk of your liquids out onto the bed. She looks away, face a bright pink.
“It was... supposed to not... I mean... not that. Oh... No no... Please no! Don’t look at me.”
You kiss her horn gently once more, moving down to her forehead, and then her lips. She clenches her hooves against your shoulders and you pull her in closer to you. You rock her in your arms gently as her hormones do a full reversal and she’s left in tears. They progress into full blown sobs as she clings to you for reasons you’re fairly sure have nothing to do with the state of the room or her dignity anymore. You shush her, rubbing her back and kissing at her forehead encouragingly, trying to think of what to say. Your mind wanders to what she’s truly crying about, and you feel tears sting at your own eyes as you appreciate the magnitude of what you hold in your arms. Everything, anything you could ever really care about, here in between these two arms, tied up in this fragile sobbing pony. With a sniffle she wipes her eyes and looks up at you.
“Y-what? You’re not ss-supposed to cry. Bad... that’s bad.”
You try to blink away the tears, but instead one escapes and rolls down your cheek, and her sob transforms into a chuckle.
“You’re... you’re silly. It’s alright. Real gentlemen can cry too. I won’t tell. I stepped on you, and it hurt.” She’s interrupted by a sniffle. “S’what we’ll tell everypony.”
You laugh suddenly at her poor excuse and another tear escapes as you wipe your face and hers. She looks away, trying to spare your feelings. Finally she returns her gaze to you as you finish straightening yourself up.
“Room’s a mess too... needs fixing. Get up! I need to fix it.”
She pushes you off the bed gently as the spots on the sheets right themselves. The mattress cleans up in seconds thanks to her magic, and the sheets begin to tuck and fold themselves. Pillows float into the room, mending as they soar onto the bed. Task complete, she looks up at you.
“Help me into bed, prince charming?”
You scoop her up with much difficulty and she giggles. Even as your back protests you know how much she loves that you can still manage the feat, and you ease her down onto the bed, thankful that you didn’t have to go more than a couple steps. She reclines on her side, tail flicking lazily about as you crawl into bed next to her. With a click the lights go out and you feel her body snuggle up to you. You whisper that you love her, and she kisses at your neck before whispering back to you.
“I love you too.”
Outside the wind whips angrily, but in each other’s arms you ride out the storm; at last without notice, drifting off closer toward sleep and the future you want with the partner you love. In your arms her breath steadies and she kisses at your neck again, and again. You lay a kiss on her horn, eliciting a murmur’d “Mmm” and earning you a hoof around the side. You rest your own hand on her side, arm resting gently on her tummy. In your arms she shifts closer, pressing her body against yours, tummy joining both of you as together your family of three falls asleep in a warm embrace to thoughts of the many days still ahead of you.

Chapter 9

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-Part 9: Pregnant rarity, Light Anal, Large Weight, Heavy Feeding, Large Weight, Fantasy / Masturbation, Denial, Public Play / Exhibitionism

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In the diminishing light of the train cabin you hold the letter aloft. Quietly you ponder its contents, less than certain of what awaits you at your destination. It’s been four days since you saw her last, departing to Canterlot for the crafter’s convention that Twilight Sparkle had gifted you both tickets to. The ball had been the source of much of her energy of course. It will come later this evening, and you find yourself pleasantly at ease with that fact. She mingles well socially and always has. Together you’ve hammered down the awkward walls she’d constructed during the first half of her pregnancy, and her business-like and casual air of sophistication has returned to your lives in full force once more. She’s closing on on nine months along, roughly a week and a half into her last month of pregnancy. Had the trip come any later, even a week, it would have been risky to travel. Yet Twilight is your expert on such matters, and she had urged you both to go.

It was a chance to drum up business she’d said. You know you’ll be needing it with the foal’s arrival, so with some reluctance you’d put Rarity on the first train to Canterlot last Thursday and watched her disappear into the morning sunlight. Since then you’d busied yourself getting things together: a trunk of clothes and your finest gems to take with you. You’ve spent four quiet days working on jewelry, one of the few crafts your sophisticated hands can do better even than unicorn magic. Your wife has taught you much about gems over the course of your marriage, and she is a true expert on the matter. The ring on your hand, covered brilliantly in them, is one of the few such things that exist in the world. She told you so and it makes sense. Not many unicorns wear jewelry on their horns, and ponies have no fingers on which to wear such fine things. Now a trunk rests at your feet filled with the finest in necklaces, hoof bracelets, tierras, her best and newest outfits, and plenty of other goodies to show off your skills through. You close the ring hand and the crackle of the envelope in it brings you back to your initial musing.

She’s been missing you, enough to write and send a letter. It’s only been five days, but you know the real reason for the letter. She’s far too obsessive compulsive to leave the packing of all your things to your own mental checklist. The letter is several pages of nothing but “Do not forgets” but the last one simply tells you to “Behave”. You’re able to interpret the code of course, and it’s been mind breaking. You’ve not tasted physical pleasure in days, in a display you can only imagine would draw the worst of “Whipped” noises from any nearby stallion who knew of your plight. You shift uncomfortably again in your seat at the thought. Mentally you plead with the train to hurry, and it’s your great shock when it halts and hisses in the station only minutes later. You look out to the darkened platform for your partner. She’s nowhere to be found.

Without waiting to spot her, you heft the enormous trunk up and carry it to one of the doors. It slides open on its own as you fumble and try to re-arrange the armful for a grip on the handle. The entirety of the low doorway is filled with one large, round figure. The last slivers of sunlight catch her lavender hair and her widening eyes look up at you. You can’t mask your own shock either. She’s lovely, how quickly you forget that fact. How quickly she became an idea in your mind, so difficult to conjure up the detailed image of. Standing before you after what seems now to be forever, she’s almost unreal in her beauty. She’s bigger than you remember, although it’s impossible to tell with her new eating habits. She’s unafraid to gain weight at this point, and a hotel with room service must be aiding that cause. Your arms protest as you hold the heavy trunk in front of you, and she tilts her head, backing up to make room for you on the platform.
“You’re... right on time.”
You set the trunk down and flex your already tired arms. She watches their movements and absentmindedly licks at her lips. You tell her she looks lovely, drawing a smile and blush creeping into her face.
“It’s good to see you too."
She heaves herself onto the trunk to gain an extra foot of height and you stoop to meet her kiss. It’s only a matter of moments until her hooves are hooked around your head and pulling you down further into her. A sigh leaves her lips. Around you stallions and mares bustle out of the train and on about their business around and past you, but they fade out of your mind as she slips her tongue hungrily into your mouth. You sweep your hands over her back, up her neck, and into her hair. Instead of the expected and usual reprimand for playing with her mane, she lets out an enormous sigh and moan into your mouth. Your hands finish their task and rest on either side of her face until she finally withdraws from the embrace and looks about.
“Grab that trunk and follow me.”
You scoop it up and hurry to keep up with her frantic pace. She’s headed in the opposite direction of the exit, and you resist the urge to call out to her as she ducks into the lady’s restroom. You sigh and set the crate down, looking at the already emptied station platform. Things quieted down quickly, and you strain your eyes to see if anyone still lurks about in the dark. You’re sure you see a large figure or pair of figures off in the distance, but your sweeping appraisal is interrupted as a pair of hooves grab your arm and pull you into the bathroom.

It’s a bit dark in here, but she continues to drag you until she’s backed herself and you up against a wall of sinks. She starts to fumble with your belt and you wrestle with her hooves to stop her. What in Equestria is she doing?
“No one’s coming. Please, let’s hurry.”
You think for a moment, weighing the odds. The station was empty...
As you stop to think she manages to free your erection and strokes at it with one hoof, eyes glancing up at you. Pleasure grips you, and you lift her onto her back legs, leaning her against the wall and pressing your lips to hers. Caught, not caught, it all slips into white noise in the back of your mind as she increases stroking your firmness. You lower a hand to her privates and slip a finger in. It’s wet and an easy fit despite the bulk of her stomach being in your way. You wiggle it around in her and manage it until it’s disappeared up to the base of your hand inside her. She whimpers and breaks the kiss.
“That’s it? Just one?”
You withdraw slightly and slip two more in, prompting her to pump your member more vigorously.
“Nhhh. Too long without it. Just one more?”
You grunt, desperately trying not to cum already. It’s been too long and the pressure is already mounting. In goes your pinky finger and your other hand drops to play at her clit. You risk a glance down and see her hooves working wildly up and down the thickness, but the assault on her womanhood has made her legs give already. She’s sliding down the wall without your hands to support her and taking your trapped hand and arm toward the ground with her. The hefty pony spreads her legs and keeps sliding down until she’s on her back. She gasps out her words as she helps your hand out of her.
“It’s ok... Put it in me, it’s ok.”
You lift her up off the floor as best you can to provide for her dignity as you slide into her. She’s slick, soaking wet, and tight. The moment you’re in she clamps down around your boner and bites her lip. You ask her how much she’s been wanting it this week. She paws feebly at your chest with her hoof.
“Less talking. More ssssssssseeeeeex”
Her voice rises from the forced whisper as you start to thrust from the awkward position. She bites down on her hair to keep herself quiet and you keep pounding at her. You barely make another minute before you can feel it building up to a crescendo. Panting already, you warn her that you’re cumming. She releases the death grip on her own tresses and tries desperately to get her words out.
“N-no. Not in there. My mouth. I want it.”
You pull out quickly and she rolls onto her side in a marshmallowy blur, mouth open and tongue out as she clambers to her hooves and glomps her throat down around it. You start to pound her throat and only make it a couple thrusts before the warmth and tightness of her throat and tongue force the flood of semen out of you. It comes in almost painful waves that seem as if they’ll never end, pouring out and forcing her to swallow rapidly and repeatedly. It takes almost a full minute before she can slow her greedy gulps to a normal rhythm but she manages it all down her throat gracefully and without choking. Finally she dislodges her mouth and starts to lick your limpening member clean. Hardness begins to flood back to it at her careful prompting but she gets the last of your seed into her mouth and wipes it with her hoof.
“Well goodness, it’s a-”
She swallows a bit, eyes still watering from her mouth’s role in tonight’s loss of control.
“It’s a good thing I skipped dinner, isn’t it?”
You ask her if she seriously skipped dinner, and she blushes.
“I wanted to get icecream with you, and the ball will be here soon. Mustn’t be bloated when I try to squeeze this... flabby figure into a dress. I’ve already put on a dozen pounds since I got here, room service is simply divine.”
She wiggles her hips and you grab her enormous bottom. This late in her pregnancy, she’s easily the size of two ponies in both width and girth. You start to adjust and aim your saliva slickened member, pressing it gently against the pucker of her ass.
“N-no. Wait for the hotel, darling.”
You slip the head into her and she moans, wiggling her thick flanks in protest and trying to get away.
“It’s ok, we can wait, I promise. I made you wait, it’s not your fault you couldn’t... hold on... You’re plenty good to me. Don’t worry.”
You blush at the accusation and consider pressing your advantage. You can get it into her easily from here, she hasn’t turned around yet. This soon after your last climax the sex could last much, much longer. Is she playing with you, or does she really want to wait? You approach again and grip a handful of haunches, other hand stroking at her soaked privates.
“Nnnnh. Let’s go. Come now.”
Assuming this is your cue to give up, you sigh and struggle to replace your hardon into your pants. After finally succeeding at zipping up you follow her from the room, letting her lead to make sure there’s no one watching you leave the mare’s room. She waves you out and you scoop up the trunk and follow her into the darkness.

Your brief view of the hotel reveals that it’s incredibly upscale, but she leads you through the lobby and into the dealer’s room.
“Bring that with you, come now. We need to get our booth set up before tomorrow afternoon, I know we shan’t be up in the morning to do it after the ball.”
You groan and adjust your grip on the trunk, hurrying after her and into one of the massive rooms appointed to dealers. The vaulted ceiling and wideness of the room is lined with tables and structures, all at various stages of set-up. You follow her to yours, a large booth in the middle of the rows of similar structures. It has the Carousel Boutique banner stitched and draped over the booth.
“I need the shelves back there set up and some of our things put onto them. Keep the gems and jewelry in the trunk, lest they wander off in somepony’s hands.”
You hurry to follow her orders but the shelves are troublesome. Cheaply made, easy to assemble, and leaning. You sigh and flex your strength to the task, finally managing to right one of the legs and get it to stop wobbling. She begins filling it with various things as you lay out others on the table. Everything you place is re-arranged, straightened, or replaced by her. The extremely valuable things are arranged at the bottom of the trunk, which she locks and places under your dealer’s table. It’s the work of about an hour to get things together, and by the end you’re sweating profusely. She’s panting also, and she looks at you worriedly.
“Can you finish stocking those shelves with the last of the dresses and shirts, I absolutely must wash my hair before the ball tonight. Here’s the key, we’re room three twenty six."
You nod and carry on arranging your space. Across the aisle other ponies continue to set their things up and talking and laughing continues to fill the room. After about thirty minutes, one of the ponies in the booth next to you leans over the small barrier separating your things.
“Now you’re an odd one, that’s the truth. Ain’ never seen one like you. Magical creature under the protection of the magical creatures act, mayhaps?”
You nod. It’s exactly what Equestria’s government considers you to be, despite your relative lack of magic and truer status as an outsider.
“Ah. Fair ‘nuff. You better watch out that yer mistress don’t see you pocketing those.”
You look down at your handful of rings you were preparing to put away. Mistress? You politely inform the pony that you’re married to the pony that was just here.
“Well if that don’t beat all. Didn’t know such things could be interwed, but you seem a smart enough. Say, that foal isn’t yours is it? The one she’s carrying? Mighty full of young she seems to be, too.”
You laugh and reply that the girl will indeed be yours, and as far as you know it’s only the one.
“Well congratulations to ye!" His voice drops and he looks around. “Not gonna be some kind of... well, hybrid, I hope?”
You swallow. The thought has crossed your mind, and the truth is that no one’s sure. You sincerely hope not, that’s no life for a foal by your own admission. It’s a thought that plagues you even now however, and the uncertainty eats at you for a moment. He looks awkwardly at you, obviously realizing he‘s stepped on a few social toes with the comment.
“Aw, still not sure eh? Well cheer up bub. While the missus is away, the stallions will play!”
He offers you a flask, and you politely take a pull from it. It’s strong, but you’ve had stronger. The workpony continues setting out his things, various forms of rounded cookware, contraptions, and other oddities. He seems to be an inventor of sorts, and you politely hand him back the container of alcohol as he fiddles with what looks like six interlinked beartraps.
“Jes put it there. She said ye’re for the ball? You sure about that? Not a workpony I’ve seen ever been to the ball from our rows. Usually the higher class stuff, that.”
You appraise your row and determine that the rows of dealer’s things are indeed apparently arranged by social status. This prompts a bit of a sigh from you. It must be difficult to hawk one’s wares if the elite ponies are allowed to set up toward the front of the room.
“Best be going, hadn’t ye?”
You look at your watch and offer the inventor pony a thank-you as you hurry from the room. Half an hour to be at the ball? You’ll certainly have to appear there late. You hurry up the stairs toward the room number on your key and burst into the room. She has her back to you and narrows her eyes as she turns about. “Just in time. Zip me up, would you?”
You drink in the sight of her luxurious black gown. She’s not a terribly big fan of the colour, but it’s a formal occasion after all. You reach the thickness of her back and zip her up. You’re not sure why she resorted to a zipper, she’s never cared much for them. She bats her eyes as you easily manage the task. She looks lovely of course, a true savant when it comes to dressing anypony. The dress hugs and shapes her body in such a way as to streamline her already desirable shape. It’s a tight fit, but she sighs and smiles up at you when the task is done. She kisses your hands and thanks you. You scratch her ear and start to take off your belt with the other hand but her kisses turn into licks, and then into full-blown suckling. Each finger is carefully rolled around in her mouth with her tongue. She smiles up at you as she finishes licking your littlest finger’s tip.
“Oh it’s so tempting to stay and play... you could get me in and out of this dress in only a couple minutes, I imagine...”
She looks at the door and back to you.
“And you’re going to be showering?”
You nod and manage to get off your shirt and pants as she considers the prospect.
“But I can hardly get them from in there... I’ve no need to get back in, either. Alright. I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t be too late!”
She hurries out of the room before her better judgment can falter. You shrug and slip off your boxers, surveying the bedroom you’ve got for the next two nights.

The first thing that draws your attention is the pile of dishes stacked neatly beside the bed. All picked clean of any stray morsels of food, all physically large. She really is getting bigger with reckless abandon at this point, and you look doubtfully at the cushy bed. It’s wide by pony standards of course, but like all pony made beds it’s short. You’re sure you’ll spend the next couple of days curled up next to her large frame, but at least the time occupying it will be short. It’s beginning to look like the convention will take the better part of the next few days. It’s always a bit frustrating to work with her perfectionist attitude, but you try to mentally excite yourself for tonight. It’s been a while since you had a night out together filled with romance and dancing. Expectations risen, you step into the bathroom.

The bathtub is typically big. Pony bathrooms always occupy a disproportionate amount of space in a building, usually taking up an equal amount of space as the master bedroom. You’re not sure why, but the bathtub looks physically longer than your bed. As you turn on the water in the glass walled shower that resides in the other corner of the room, you start to wonder whether or not you could stuff some blankets in the tub and get a better night’s sleep. You pick up a towel off a stack of folded linens resting on the closed toilet lid and drape it over the shower wall. Soon the room is filled with steam and the shower and mirrors are fogged beyond visibility. Sore and somewhat tired, you step into the shower and under the water.

It’s a quick matter to lather up your hair with her shampoo - you forgot your own. Once you’ve finished applying the lavender scents you lean against one of the walls and sink to a sitting position, letting the water run over your legs as you relax yourself. The ball tonight should be fun, and you try your best to think about it in good terms. The eating will be good, that much is certain. The feeding more than the eating steadily occupies your mind, and you imagine she really has gotten bigger since she got access to round the clock room service. Between your legs you feel yourself grow slightly hard at the thought of how hungry she’s gotten lately, not just for food but for other things. When her pregnancy started, cravings for marshmallows and sweets she would normally avoid become dominant. Now she seems to have taken likings to saltier and spicier dishes, and apparently has been tending to them with a ferocity in your absence.

You rise to wash the shampoo out of your hair and soap up your body, ready for the evening. As you continue to lather yourself up, the erection at your waist becomes more pronounced, and you less than reluctantly rub at its stiffness. It’s the work of a few moments’ crouching to get the shampoo washed from your hair, but once it’s done you’ve made up your mind. You can’t go to the ball with a boner, nor let it subside and allow your hormones to lurk all night below the surface. You need release. It’s for your own good. You squirt some of her vanilla scented conditioner into your hand and begin to rub, letting your imagination wander to your wife.

She looked fantastic in her dress, and you imagine her hiking it up over her hips, imagine her slowly savoring each bite of the cakes and desserts Canterlot is famous for. She’s rubbing her tummy and asking you to feed her more, and you oblige. Your thoughts shift and you increase your pace on the stiffness in your hand. Now she’s laying on a bed, and she’s stuffed full. She opens her mouth as you enter the room and survey her nearly immobile figure, stomach spilling between and around her legs and forcing them perpetually apart. You feed her every slice of cake from a tray and she gratefully accepts them all. When she’s done she asks for more, spreading her legs even more and letting you wander your hands down to her soaked and hot privates. You present your member to her, and she wraps her mouth around it. She tells you between desperate suckles that she wants to get bigger, and she doesn’t care anymore. You grit your teeth as a welling up wave of pleasure brings you temporarily back to reality. You slow your stroking for a moment, willing it back down, savoring the scenario you’re imagining.
She’s too big for a bed now. Too big to move, to big even to roll over as you enter the room. From where she lies her stomach rolls out across the floor, supporting her body and lifting it easily from the ground. She’s eating at a constant rate now, you can barely keep up with her needs as she unceremoniously shovels food from the plate into her mouth. Any break or missed beat in her regimen prompts bouts of whining and begging. She’s helpless at this point, body a mass of thick ponyflesh. Finally full, she asks you to take her, and you approach her from behind, entering the vast expanse of her softness. This thought proves too much, and you finally feel the orgasm escape you and burst across the shower. Your seed coats one of the walls and you feel all the tension leave your body. Now you’ve made a mess though, and it’s got to be cleaned up before she sees it.
Grumbling, you rise and soap up your hand, redirecting the water and attempting to clean the glass. Now the guilt sets in as you work to hide your shame. She’s your wife, and you’ve objectified her rather than respected her. You’ve put her into a fantasy, and your deepest fantasy is one that isn’t even particularly in her best interest. She enjoys being bigger around you, but that? That sort of fantasy isn’t the kind of thing she’d go for, or that you could admit to. It’s entirely about her losing her control, and you having control over her, isn’t it? Somehow now you feel even less than wholesome for imagining it, and you wonder what she would say if you admitted to it. Would she be frightened by it? She certainly has her own fetishes, but... none to that degree.

You turn off the stream of water and dry your hair. Now you’re making up your mind, you have to discuss it with her. Tonight, after the ball, when you go out for icecream perhaps. Bring it up lightly of course, that’s the only way. It’s only fair to her, fair that she should know. She’s your wife, there’s no secrets between the two of you... You brush your hair and practically jump into the clothes she laid out for you. As you button your cuffs your conviction grows. It’s the right thing to do, and you hurry out of the room eager to find her and tell her you need to talk. You take the stairs down to the lobby two at a time and emerge in the hallway leading up to the ballroom. With a slight rush you step through the doors.

It’s not what you expected of course, but these sorts of upper-crust things rarely are. There’s a dance floor of course, but it’s sparsely occupied, and surrounded by many smaller tables. This is where the majority of the evening is taking place, upper-class and wealthy ponies reservedly discussing their investments and various crafts in quiet tones amidst softly playing music. The band playing across the room is situated on a slightly raised platform, currently stuck on a waltz. With some surprise and glee you spot one face you know, a pony from Ponyville named Lyra. Surrounded on all sides by various harps of all sizes, she plucks at one of her instruments lovingly and obliviously. You can’t resist waving to her and smiling.
The wave attracts more than a little attention, and you’re almost immediately sorry that you did it. On all sides of the room you draw stares, and you’re suddenly aware of how quiet the level of conversation has become and how much louder the music seems. Under their gazes you begin to remember how much you hate large social gatherings. You’re sure you’re soaking up half the eyes in the room at this point, your strange figure occupying the majority of their attention. None-too quiet conversations begin on all sides of you about yourself, about whether you’re perhaps part of the help, lost from the dealer’s room, or simply in the wrong room. You try not to take notice, try to shrink yourself as you look for Rarity.
She would have known better than to wave, of course. This is her sort of scene, and you wish desperately that you’d come with her now. You continue to draw more attention as you look for her, wishing for nothing more now than to take a seat next to her and make yourself as small as possible. Your search for her reveals nothing but more staring ponies, and a tap on your back causes you to turn abruptly to the serving mare behind you. On her back rests a tray of wine glasses, and she tries to politely hide her own gawking as her quiet voice finds your ears.

“Please, sir. The other guests would like to enter the room.”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you discover a line has formed behind her while you waited and searched. An elegantly dressed stallion clears his throat and checks a pocket watch before returning his impatient gaze to you. Now your wish to find Rarity changes to a wish to be anywhere else. You step aside, determined to get out at all costs as soon as the last pony files through. This was a mistake, a terrible mistake, and you’re better off waiting up in the hotel room than suffering through the entire evening under the awkward observation of every pony in the room. Behind you the waltz concludes and a cheery beat suddenly catches the ears of every pony in the room.
You risk a glance over to Lyra and she winks at you, obviously having noticed you along with everyone else. It takes everything you have not to compound your awkward presence by racing across the room and embracing the mint coloured pony. She nods her head to the right from behind her enormous five foot harp and you follow the line of it to a table. There she is, your wife, your socialite sanctuary. You break into a grin and nod thanks to Lyra as you cut across the center of the room hurriedly, taking your seat next to Rarity and slumping as low as you can immediately. She’s in the middle of a conversation with an elderly looking stallion and barely glances at you as you sit down.

“Well of course diamonds are a pony’s best friend, but rubies and emeralds are truly the more valuable gems. It’s quite difficult to find a proper one without any significant imperfections... it makes them a good deal more rare. It’s the chromium that gives them their colouration of course, it results in a high percentage of flawed product. That in turn raises rarity and thus raises value.”

The gentlecolt disagrees heavily and she’s put on the defensive. Inwardly you’re irritated. She’s come to the greatest ball sans the Grand Galloping Gala, and she’s talking shop with someone. You scoop up a wine glass off the tray from a passing server and begin to sip at it as she cuts in.

“Yes, it’s true diamonds are more difficult to handle, but that doesn’t make them more valuable. They’re only difficult to cut, and certainly not difficult to find in good condition by comparison. My goodness, they’re a diamond a dozen when I go looking for them, and I rarely need to cut the ones I find. Not to mention that they only serve to accessorize on a handful of outfits compared to the complimentary colours of more rare coloured stones.”
You drain your glass moodily, watching as the pony she’s conversing with steals glances at you. She finally notices you and you get an introduction. You nod politely and tell her not to worry about paying you mind, since she’s in the midst of a proper conversation. Your sarcasm passes unnoticed over all the ponies present save for her. Everypony seems more interested in you than in the conversation at this point, but she stares at you for a moment before laughing and returning to the debate she was having.

“Now if you wanted difficult to handle, opal is the strong future market. Cracks easily you know, less chance of it being multi-generational. Mark my words, diamonds are a poor market to be in the long investment of, they’re simply popular because of a century of marketing. Their rarity isn’t that high however, and before long everypony who’s anypony shall own one. They might be hard to cut, but they last simply forever, barring scratching. Not to mention the downright personable qualities of opal, it truly is the more variant of gems...”

You set the glass on a passing tray and pick up another, hurrying halfway through it and trying to think of anything else. Feeling a bit more giddy now you find your hand straying to her back, where you play with a loose lock of her hair as she talks.
“Well of course there’s factors to consider, sand occlusion and colour variance, but it’s a small price to pay for-”
She turns and manages to disguise a withering glare as a cough before looking at you intently.
“Something I can HELP you with, Darling?”
You sigh. No, nothing. You’re just wanting to let her know you want to get up and look at the paintings, and you’ll be back in a minute. You rise before she can say anything, finishing your glass in a hurry before crossing to a wall and examining a painting. It’s not the true recipient of your attention of course, and inwardly you let your distaste for the evening unfold. Has she really forgotten the entire point of the night, and everything you’d discussed? She’s practically abandoned you to the heavy weight of every pony’s attention, and you crossly ponder why. With no answers forthcoming and limbs slowly growing a bit heavier you make up your mind. You’ll ask her to dance with you, it’ll put the evening more on track to what you’d imagined. Confidence rising, you stride back to the table and tap her shoulder.
“-ah well, you can see how it is then. Ruby and sapphire are another example of different stones that are still the same. They are both Corundum, that is to say Aluminum-oxide... If you add a little bit of chromium it turns red and is called ruby... A proper amount of Iron or Titanium colour it blue. Berylium would colour it orange and-”
You tap again.
“-so on. They’re all the exact same gemstone, with differences only in regard to colour and, less prominently, durability. Any color but red in that particular family tree is called a sapphire by most, one could have a pink sapphire but not a pink ruby if you see what I mean.”
You tug on the strap of her dress and she excuses herself from educating a slender looking mare on gem colouration to turn to you.
“You’re... do you need something?”
You hold out your hand and bow slightly, asking her if the lady would like to dance.
“No, not at this moment. Please dear, sit down. We’ve only a hoofful of hours before we’re through for the evening as it is. We’ve shown up quite unfashionably late.”
You inwardly reel. Now it’s just embarrassing, she’s making you feel more than a little foolish for your continued efforts. You shake your head and try to politely excuse yourself as you cross the room to one of the garden exits and out into the cooler night.
There you sit and look out at the foliage, soft music filtering out the door. It grows loud and light spills out onto the path in front of you as the door clicks open and shut again. A mint coloured hoof taps your shoulder and you look up at Lyra’s smiling face.
“King of awkward as always. Find the belle of the ball?”
You nod glumly and kick a stray pebble into the bushes. She’s looking up at the sky now, and you follow her eyes. Beside you she speaks up.
“We’ll play something for you, if you want. Glad to see you decided to stick around though, it looked like you were gonna bolt on us for a minute there.”
You remember to thank her for rescuing you earlier, and tell her that yes, you were considering leaving. You’re not sure you still won’t.
“Huh. Sounds like someone’s got a bad case of ‘not-what-I-planned’”.
It’s more than that, you tell her. You switch the subject, asking her why she’s not playing with the band.
“I’m out for this song. We try to cycle so each pony can get a couple breaks, y’know? Gets tiring otherwise. Anyway, you shouldn’t worry about that. Canterlot balls tend to have a way with that. You never get what you want, but who does, eh?”
You shrug. You figured she’d be more into it, your last chance for something big and romantic before a foal consumes your lives for the next several years.
“That’s pretty heavy I guess. You sure she thinks the same way?”
You think for a moment. How couldn’t she? Isn’t she always talking about experimenting, and this that or the other being ‘the last chance you’ll have in a while’?
“Dunno. Sometimes pony’s tastes change. Anyway, sounds like they’re wrapping up that song. I should get going. Try to have some fun, and go easy on the wine while you’re at it. You should at least try to taste what you’re drinking, it’s certainly not fair to us pauper ponies who’ll never have a chance at it.”
She grins once more and leaves you to your thoughts. You look back up at the stars she was examining minutes ago. She could see through you even while staring at them, and you don’t know her that well. A few jam sessions together for fun, but not enough time spent together to give her a good reading on you. Were your troubles that obvious? How could Rarity not have noticed them, then? Does she not care?
Another click and an open door behind you floods the terrace with the light of the ballroom. It’s much more light this time, and the shadow is quite a bit more pronounced. You know she’s behind you, waiting for you to speak. You sigh and sit down on a bench, determined not to look at your wife until she says the first words. To your surprise, she does.
“Is something wrong? You... you seem upset.”
Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. You’re glad she’s enjoying herself while you’re getting stared at. There’s a confused defensiveness in her voice.
“You’d get stared at more on the dance floor. We both would. I’m as big as a train and you’re... you. You know you’re you. You’ll attract less attention sitting with me. I was...”
She’s sniffling and you chance a glance behind you as she sits down facing the opposite direction.
“I was -trying- so hard to keep the ponies at our table looking anywhere but you. I know it must be so awkward... I’m sorry. I’m terribly uninteresting to them I’m afraid.”
You weren’t expecting it, but now you feel even worse. Of course she was looking out for your well being. She’s the most generous pony you know, bar none. She’d take all their attention, waning confidence in her large figure or not.
“I look simply dreadful in this dress too, I know I do. I’ve put on too much weight since I got here, and it fits all wrong. Everypony’s certainly deciding not to buy from us now, I’m sure of it, and it’s all my fault.”
You turn yourself around and hug her from behind. To your surprise, she presses herself against your body with all her force and tears fill her big eyes in the dimness of the veranda.
“I just wanted you to not worry. Did you really want to dance that much?”
You tell her that you thought that she really wanted to dance, and you were looking forward to it. She sniffles and straightens up.
“W-well that’s a surprise. Not that you’re thinking of me, but that you can say it. I guess they make the wine potent here. You certainly went through enough of it.”
You smile and tell her the wine is indeed powerful before making a grab at her haunches. She shifts out of your reach.
“Honestly, you were embarrassing in there you know. I had to excuse myself to come get you, like some sort of child wanting its mother. Do you have any idea how embarrassing your constant pleas for attention were?”
You tell her she’d better get used to it, she’ll be contending with both a foal and your immaturity soon enough. She laughs and wipes her eyes. You tell her she’s beautiful, that you’re sorry for making her cry, and that she should go back inside.
“We’ve only got to be here a little longer, alright? We can leave soon.”
Your smile grows and you rub her ears. You can go for icecream together after you change into something more casual, but she should take her time. She won’t get more chances like this for a long time.
“Oh I know, but I’ve made peace with that. You know I sometimes detest such snooty ponies, and honestly... their opinions. So uneducated. So used to having other people do the figuring for them. Can you believe they -honestly- value diamond more than coloured stones? Nopony with any proper sense thinks it. Nopony who deals in gems, nopony who cuts gems, nopony who-”
You shush her and kiss her and she melts into your arms. After a moment she breaks from it, blushing.
“That.”
You tilt your head.
“It’s... it’s nothing.”
You urge her to go on.
“That’s what I wanted. All night, and every time, since my first social gathering. It’s what I love about you. You make a night magical with that... One more?”
You kiss her again and she opens her mouth slightly, unable to check her smile. Finally she breaks off the kiss again and turns to go inside.
“Don’t be out here too long... We’ve icecream to get soon.”
You nod and decide to go for a short stroll around the garden.

It’s about forty minutes and some awkward and wobbly footsteps before you’re solidly sober and can return to the door to make your way back inside. The light glares at your eyes and you feel all stares once again return to you. The band is wrapping up another song. You slink over to Lyra and make a small request. She nods as she tends to her instrument.
“Yeah, we know that one. Not too much trouble. Bunch of working stiffs like us? We can liven it up for a song. Sure you want those kinds of looks?”
You grin and thank her, depositing a fair amount of bits in the jar for tips she’s got hidden behind one of the drums. As you cross the room, that familiar introduction strikes up in a series of sudden and sweet chords. That G Chord progression into a D, C, and finally e minor... easily one of the most recognizable chord progressions in all of music. You pick up your pace and reach the table just as Rarity recognizes it. Lyra continues to play it up in the introduction, and you admit it sounds quite different on a harp. More mellow, softer.
Your wife smiles up at you and leans in to whisper.
“You’re a romantic fool, you know that?”
From the center of the room Lyra’s fair voice opens the song as the introduction closes.
“It’s late in the evening... she’s wondering what clothes to wear...”
You hold out your hand, and a scarlet faced Rarity turns politely to the other table guests.
“Excuses me everypony, I believe I’ve a wedding song I’m expected to dance to... Appologies, sir. We shall finish our conversation another time, perhaps. I’m afraid we simply must be departing after this song. Good night madam, sirs.”

You lead her out to the dance floor and rest your hands on her sides. She steps back as you lead her. Above the conversation the singing unicorn’s voice fills the room, mellow tones reaching the walls with determination.
“-Do I look alright? And I say yes... you look wonderful tonight.”
The dance is one you had to learn and create together, the difference in your footfalls difficult to accommodate for. Nonetheless, you’d perfected it by your wedding, and this song especially is the proper beat for what you’ve practiced together a hundred times. From where her head rests against your chest she whispers to you.
“You know... Eric Clopton is hardly fitting music for a high class social gathering.”
“-We’ll go to a party, and everyone turns to see... this beautiful pony that’s walking around with me...”
You tell her it was fitting for your wedding, and that was twice as beautiful. That’s her special talent, making things beautiful. Your mind drifts back to that lovely spring afternoon, when you told her the same thing. She’s beautiful, and it’s her special talent. The words had worked like a charm, and she’d sniffled and accepted the compliment. But now...
“...and the wonder of it all, is that you just don’t realize how much I love you.”
“No.”
You look down.
“and then I’ll tell her, as I turn out the light... I say my darling, you were wonderful tonight...”
“No, I know you’ve said it for years, but making things beautiful isn’t my special talent.”
The music around you builds and sweeps you back to those years as Lyra carries the solo on her harp masterfully.
“Finding gems, that’s my special talent.”
She nuzzles her head against your chest.
“And I’ve found the most perfect gem, right here.”
You blush and so does she. Neither one of you wants to break the moment, cheesy line though it might be. You bend down as the song wraps up and give her a kiss. A few ponies clap politely, impressed perhaps that you’d managed to dance together at all. A few look uncomfortable by the music choice, but it switches back to a waltz and they soon resume their conversations. You’re suddenly aware of just how much attention you’ve attracted, and you take her shoulder and lead her from the room back into the hotel lobby. As soon as you’re there and out of sight, she bursts out laughing and hugs you.

“You know, your special talent is making a truly... truly wonderful night. Oh goodness, to think I was nervous. I’m not sure why. Nopony there is a realistic buyer, they’re all... Oh gracious tonight has been fun.”
You lead her out into the night through the front door and loosen your bow tie and unfasten the buttons on your shirt. At your side she giggles again and nuzzles at your hand, prompting you to play it across her neck playfully. It’s time to go get ice cream.

Chapter 10

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-Part 10: Pregnant Rarity, Light Anal, Large Weight, Heavy Feeding, Heavy Exhibitionism, Fisting, Hand Play, Heavy Food Play and Stuffing, Immobility, Oral Sex, Large Plot Progression (Heh... Plot.), Humor

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Across the table, bundled in the black dress that clings to her body, Rarity eyes you quietly. The glow of the convention ball only an hour ago has faded from her thick alabaster figure. Every now and then she spares a glance down at the icecream bowl between you two, filled to overflowing with an absurd amount of scoops. It wasn’t easy to admit the real depths of your feeding fantasies to her, nor was it easy to admit to her how much, puns aside, that fetish has grown. It’s culminated to a full blown fantasy that only fully gripped you earlier that night while you were taking a shower. Following the bout of self pleasure that followed, you’ve been riddled with tension and guilt at the idea of keeping it all from her. Now you’ve divulged the entirety of it to her, and you await her reaction.
Another minute passes, and you watch the melted icecream slowly accumulate in the bowl. She wanted it big and you agreed to share before you could bring yourself to admit what was bothering you. There it sits like some piece of frozen evidence in a case you’re only now realizing might cost you her favor for the rest of the trip or longer. It’s a grim centerpiece to a conversation you can only dread the result of. Outlandish fetishes like immobility and objectification certainly won’t appeal to her. You force yourself to look down at the table and find a moment’s solace in the darkness of one of your hands. Her voice pulls your attention back to her, but you avoid raising your eyes.
“So?”
You sigh, prepared to apologize.

“Well, I’ll not let you squirm, darling. Although admittedly, it is quite enjoyable.”
Your eyes draw up to hers, and she’s still smiling that amused smile that began halfway through your admission.

“You have a... desire, yes? Is it something you want to see through?”

You’re not sure, so you shrug. You briefly wonder if you didn’t jump the gun in admitting it all in the first place - maybe it’s a passing phase? Already your mind is working quickly to recover the situation in this window. Minimize damage, back away now.
It was just a fantasy, nothing major. It was just bugging you that you kept it from her, that’s all.

She looks at you for a moment before returning her eyes to the icecream. She’s blushing slightly now.

“You know, you needn’t worry so much. I’d be glad to... ah... well, I wouldn’t go as far as all that, probably. I’d need time to think, to be sure. I rather like being able to walk, you see.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you laugh a little at her frankness, and she giggles a bit too before smiling at you and taking one of your hands in her hoof

“But we’ve come quite far, haven’t we? I mean, we’ve been married for some time now. Perhaps it is time we talked about those little...”
-She looks around the empty shop for a moment, unsure if this is the place to have the conversation before leaning into you and dropping her voice-
“Kinks.”
Despite the agony you were in a minute ago, you’re on full alert now. The laughter helped to ease the tightness of your stomach, and suddenly things seem brighter as she eases into the topic. You play with the softening dessert mountain in front of you with your spoon as you wait for her to go on.

“Well, I mean, the things I thought I’d want so long ago are well... different from the things I’ve found I want. We have so much time together, beautiful rose petal romance can only fill so much, you know?”
You nod in agreement. She’s very quick at spotting these sorts of things. You’re not sure how she analyzes your marriage so well, but you imagine briefly that she must spend a great deal of time doing so to come up with even half of this.

“At any rate, I don’t think your wants will harm anything. I’ve rather come to enjoy the games you play, especially around mealtime. Goodness knows it livens up my life in ways I never thought possible... And in the spirit of admitting things, I must confess it’s been rather cute to watch develop.
At this point a final sigh of relief releases from you, and you let your shoulders relax a bit. You know she’ll pick up on a signal like that, she’ll know it had you nervous. Somehow, you’re not in trouble. She catches the sigh and plays perfectly into that expectation.

“Uncomfortable? Good heavens darling, whatever for? Did you think I’d be upset that you had some rather extreme desires in you? I suppose you think that my own wants and needs are all so much more moderate?”
Now that she mentions it, yes and no. You’d have never had her pegged on the outset of your marriage as someone with more extreme fetishes, but now you hold up what you’re sure she’s alluding to. A single hand reaches out and you flex it before her face, clenching and unclenching.

“W-what? Put that away. It’s not what I was talking about. Your hands are... just like anything else. You’ve no reason to think otherwise.”
You prod her gently with it, verbally and physically. Surely she’s not going to hide her affection for them after you just came clean about something so dirty?

“There’s no affection to be had... they’re... they’re normal, alright? Stop that, put that one away and let me talk or I shan’t eat a bite of this monstrosity you’ve put before me.”
You sigh and put your hand under the table. If it’s not your hands, which you’re positive she has a fetish for, then you’re lost at this point. She chances a glance around her before sliding out of her side of the booth and into yours. She pushes your helping hand out of the way as she settles her immense figure in next to you through an awkward combination of sliding and hopping.

Under the table her swollen belly continues on until it rests between her forced apart legs on the seat. She looks up at you as she’s forced to shift it and squeeze it slightly to manage herself into the cramped quarters. Despite yourself, you can’t meet her eyes, her tummy is just too distracting. Each hop it jiggles slightly, and now that she’s up against you, the right of her enormous backside is pressed in all its abundant softness against yours. Her dress rides up slightly and she has to do an awkward body-quaking shuffle to pull it down around her flanks. Finally situated she clears her throat and you meet her eyes. Through the fabric of your pants a hoof touches the rising erection between your legs. She tilts her head as you swallow uncomfortably. Her face grows serious and she leans up to your ear and whispers
“I like to be watched.”

As she draws back she sinks slightly, blushing.

What?
“I-I like it when we’re watched... or when we could get caught.”
She covers her face with her hooves and looks away, and you’re sure you can catch some sniffling.
“I wouldn’t tell you, I wasn’t ever going to. I know it makes you jealous, I know you hate it. I didn’t want you to do it just because you felt guilty or something. I was so hoping when things went... I... I’m sorry.”

The pieces are still falling together as she’s apologizing and you suddenly realize she’s as scared now as you were minutes ago. You pull her into you as everything starts to make sense, but she’s managing a deeper explanation between heavy breaths.
“It started in the supermarket, you remember? Oh I was so... furious that she dared to talk to you, but you’ve no idea how much it occupied my mind afterward... All that raw sexual tension, actually getting caught... so empowering to know that even with all this-”
she nudges her belly-
“Somepony would be so aroused by... me. Not just your infatuation with it, but anyone watching would break down. And it got worse after that... With the kitchen, I’m sure you remember the kitchen while the others were in the living room?”
At the time it was confusing that she’d start something so kinky and risky, yes... but you’d chalked it down to hormones. Silently you wonder how this trend could have built up without your ever noticing.
“Oh I could barely control myself, and of course you complied. You’re so wonderful, such a wonderful man. And then Dash and Twilight, it was just right again. Two of my best friends, and they wanted me to join them. Even for an evening. So I invited them again, this time to dinner first, Heavens how I wanted another taste of that... The evening didn’t go as planned though, I’m sure you remember. You drank the night away and I had to send them off. All that raw want though... You and I ended up fooling around.”
She goes silent as she ponders that particularly close call before plodding on.
“And then I found out you didn’t like it, and I said ‘That’s it then. No more.’ Oh I was simply beside myself that evening, but you reminded me very quickly that there were other kinds of things I could want.”
Her voice drops uncertainly. “P-places we hadn’t dared to put... things... Ever since then I admit, I’ve been rather bad about it. Oh, I tried to give it up, but then the spa happened... and oh goodness. The naughty things we did while anypony could walk in on us... After that I knew I couldn’t stop. We had to get caught again. Ponies had to know about us. Even if we couldn’t get caught, we could do it outdoors. On a mountain for example, overlooking all of Ponyville. Or the Cake’s bakery, or a train station restroom, goodness knows you must have seen it by then...”
You have to remind yourself to close your jaw. It’s just... so different, seeing her perspective for just a minute. You’d chalked it all down to loss of control up until now, but maybe it makes some sense with her personality. She enjoys being the object of people’s attentions, right? Why should it be any different now? You’re broken from your amateur psychoanalysis by another sniffle and you kiss her horn. You tell her you love her, fetish and all.
“I don’t expect anything to change, I didn’t even want to say anything... but you confessed and you were actually communi- well nevermind. You started it. I couldn’t hide it outright.”
Your hand wanders down to her dress and rubs at her tummy.
“What are you... oh no. Don’t do it now, don’t do it because you think I feel bad. Please, I don’t want you to do something you don’t want.”
You lean into her and whisper back for just a moment. It’s not pity or anything of the sort. She’s your wife, you love to make her happy. You’ve loved every risque moment you’ve shared up until now, and it’s not going to change just because her reasons for wanting it weren’t what you thought they were. Slowly your hand creeps between her legs and she spreads them a bit, shifting her tummy up a bit with one hoof.
“Y-you got jealous before. I don’t want that to come between us, please.”
You tell her you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it, and she eases your hand back a bit. She bites her lip as she does it, and looks around desperately before putting it back where it was and rubbing it furiously against her privates. You dig your fingers gently at her slit through her dress, and a small line of wetness appears on it. She squirms and she looks to be on the verge of bursting before finally grasping your arm and removing your hand slowly.
“Let’s talk first. I... We need some boundaries. And I need you to know, it’s more than just that. I don’t just want to risk being caught, I want to be watched again. I’ve had... moments alone, where I thought of Twilight and Dash being involved again. We can’t cross this bridge any later than we can yours. You need to know, I think...”
She stops and looks at the seat next to her. You have to give her a minute to swallow, and remind her that you’ll not judge her for it. She rushes the words together and blush explodes onto her ivory face.
“I think I’d let all of ponyville watch if I could. I’ve had that fantasy. Sometimes I even want them to get involved...dozens of stallions and mares, just watching, toying with themselves...”
Her voice drops to a barely audible squeek. “All watching and so hot over me- us.”
At this you can feel your cheeks burn. Inside you, something stirs and creeps up. Does she really want them involved? Ponies you don’t know, just because... is it because you’re not enough? Why would she want that? You’re married! It’s not fair, all your fantasies involve just her...
“No, no. Please. Please don’t feel that way. It’s because... it’s because it’s a fantasy. You don’t really want to risk my health by my being so big I can’t walk do you? You know what I’m talking about, please think about it... I just wanted you to know... That’s my deepest, darkest fantasy.”
You want a moment to think on it, but you know firsthand that each minute you wait is a moment she’s in agony waiting for a reply. Finally it comes to it, compromise. Just as she said earlier, she’ll give into your wants in moderation. It might not be something you understand, but it’s something you’ve enjoyed too, and not only because she enjoyed it. You have to give it to her somehow... So you settle. Twilight and Rainbow Dash. They’re close friends, and that’s a jealousy you can handle. They can watch, maybe even get involved again if they want to... but she has to be yours and only yours at the end of the day. No one else, either. Twilight and Dash know where you stand. No other ponies, and definitely no stallions. Her smile is slow to appear as you break through the decision.
“Of COURSE I’d be yours, you silly thing. I’m not truly attracted to mares... but I’m not not attracted to- oh heavens! It’s just that I quite enjoy the situation. They’ve been my friends for years, and they’ve got each other. It’s not a permanent thing, just a... a kink.”
She snuggles her head up against your shoulder, horn prodding gently as her smile continues to grow..
“Well then I simply must compromise too. How big do you want?”
You think she’s letting her happiness and relief make her overly generous, and you tell her so. She knows how big you’d go if it was left up to you, and you’re not sure it wouldn’t go past that. She frowns for a moment.
“W-well... I do rather enjoy the attentions, the affections... the treats...”
She suddenly springs into motion, spooning the half-melted icecream into her mouth and gulping it down greedily. She pauses long enough to look at you with a smile on her face before resuming the attack and you start to rub her sides as she does it. Before long all that remains is the melted portion, and she looks at the huge bowl of icecream soup triumphantly.
“I think... I think I’m willing to go this big after the foal’s born. It won’t be as firm, and it won’t be convenient but...”
She pauses. Her decision is a bit more difficult. The games you’ll play with Twilight and Dash aren’t the same, they can be done behind locked doors. She has to carry the weight around with her everywhere, and be seen by everypony. You know in her heart she’s always been a bit reluctant to be seen as big as she is now. That foal makes up well over half of her mass, and if you had to guess you’d say it truly makes up most of it. She looks up at you for help. You reach out and rub her tummy, searching for an appropriate starting point. Mrs. Cake’s a fairly big pony, right?
“W-well, I can be bigger than that. Much bigger. Twice as big, easily. Don’t you look at
her! W-why my flanks will be three times as thick... but-”
But?
“But I’m a bit concerned, you know?”
You tell her you do, and to not feel obligated. Fantasy can be fantasy. She doesn’t have to be drilled in front of a crowd to be happy, and you don’t need an overly massive pony. She frowns at the vulgarity of the example, but you’re sure you see her try to hide spreading her legs a bit as an attempt to smooth her dress. You let your hand wander back between her legs and she snaps them shut, trapping it.
“No, no. It’s just that gaining weight like that is hard for ponies. Pregnancy makes one’s stomach bigger, but... well, ponies usually carry most of their weight in their flanks, their haunches, and their chests... It isn’t as flattering. What I mean is... It’ll be more evenly distributed than what you’re seeing right now. Will you still be happy? I can go until my stomach’s this big again, but my haunches and flanks... they’ll be enormous, if you see what I mean? Is that what you like?”
You rub them gently. Bigger haunches? Wider sides? More cushion when you’re pushing? Whatever shall you do?
“Cushion when you- Oh, you’re positively vulgar tonight. Come here and let me quiet you down.”
She leans up and kisses you. You return the kiss and lift up the icecream bowl with your untrapped hand. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow before breaking the embrace.
“The whole thing? That’s not sharing.”
You tell her you’ve shared enough for tonight, that you’ll share her with the evening if she’s lucky.
“What? With the evening? What’s that supposed to-”
You force the bowl to her lips and she sighs and starts drinking. The majority of a dozen scoops of icecream goes down her throat and she gulps it expertly. Not a drop is wasted, not a single scoop goes amiss as she chugs. You watch as she slowly lets her stomach swell with the gigantic meal. Her hooves rest on it, but they can’t truly get around it. If she decides to get softer, squishier, less firm after the baby... The sex will be amazing, you know it will be. Still trapped between her legs, you try to use your other hand to continue rubbing at her. She lets out a soft moan as you slip your finger in, bunching up her dress inside her. Her hooves spread around her stomach, rubbing at it slowly in circles. She finally finishes and wipes her mouth with her hoof before looking at you curiously with a sly smile and a readied quip dripping with innuendo.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Control is lost. You withdraw your hand forcefully and grab her shoulder, hurrying out as the the icecream shop’s owner returns from the back room. As soon as the door clicks behind your backs Rarity turns to ask you what your rush is. She’s met with your suddenly freed erection, visible in the late night street lamps of Canterlot’s empty roads. The blush creeps all the way up to her horn.
“R-really? In the biggest city in Equestria, you’re going to-?”
You pull her dress up over her hips and push her roughly up against the window of the shop. Her face looks in and her breath fogs up the glass as you hike up her dress a bit more and slide yourself into her. She lets out a loud moan, no attempt at control visible, and pushes herself slightly up so that she can see over the tables that were blocking her vision, gazing upon the mare at the counter. She’s as wet as you’d expected as you plunge the tip into her. Tight, too, as if she’s been waiting for a while now.
“Nnnhhhh. Don’t be gentle. Be rough. Make me be bad.”
Over her shoulder you can see vaguely into the shop as the shop’s owner, a light teal pony, continues to replenish her stock for the next day. The table likely blocks the reality of your interaction from her sight, and you imagine yourselves to be safe. You thrust slightly, and Rarity lets out a breath that fogs much of the glass up. Again you thrust, and again until she’s biting on her hair to avoid being heard. You reach a hand around to lift at her gigantic gut and drop the other one down to finger at her clit. She has to hold herself up, and she does an admirable job as you continue to plow her with an increasing frenzy. At last she tightens around you and you know she’s cumming already. Her hair drops out of her mouth and she twists her neck to catch your eyes.
“We’re so... so bad. Oh how I want to be caught. Let me shout at her, please let me shout at her?”
You slap her ass and she yelps loudly. In the store the mare’s figure shifts. You can tell she’s trying to see through the blanket of breath-fogged occlusion that frames her store’s window to see what’s going on, and she trots carefully around it. You re-angle the both of you to keep yourselves hidden and conitnue thrusting. Almost there... if you could just stop being distracted...
“Just let her see. Let her see, you... you have to. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”
Her tone’s different, somehow she’s broken through her pleasure to chance being serious. In between words she’s still moaning and breathing heavily, but you can tell she’s being sincere. As the mare moves to look around the cloud of breath you stand still, finishing your thrusting and watching for her blue face to appear. It does, and her eyes fly open wide as she catches sight of a pony’s face in the throes of pleasure. You feel it welling up, and a flood of hot semen fills your wife’s warm body. You coat every inch of her insides in it before drawing out, putting yourself away and zipping up hurriedly. You grab Rarity’s still moaning figure and drag her forward until she’s galloping alongside you with all speed back toward the hotel.

When you reach the doors she’s still panting and redfaced.
“She saw... did you see it in her eyes? She knew.”
The white unicorn drops onto her haunches and her hooves struggle and grope for her womanhood. Her face is glowing.
“She knew, she knew... I can’t reach! I can’t reach!”
You scoop her up to take her inside before anyone spots either of you... but it’s too much. You can’t catch your breath, and you groan before setting her back down quickly. She’s too heavy now to pick up like that... and she’s noticed you couldn’t do it. Like a spell finally broken, the dazed look leaves her eyes and she looks up at you, ears slowly lowering against her head.
“I’m too... you can’t do it anymore.”
Still trying to catch your breath, you say nothing. She forces a smile.
“Well, let’s go inside then, shall we?”
She takes to her hooves and trots inside quickly. You follow her into the warmer hotel lobby, up the stairs, and to the door of your room, wordlessly. Finally you try to apologize. She fails to look at you as she clicks the key into the lock magically and the door swings open on its own.
“It’s nothing. Baby’s been getting bigger, you know. Not long, now.”
Your attempt to enter the room behind her is halted by her still waiting figure. She’s looking at the floor. In the light spilling out of your bedroom and onto her face you can see her ears flatten once more and her eyes cinch shut.
“It’s nothing but...”

She grits her teeth and lifts her head, ears flicking back up happily, her frown replaced with a smile.

“No, it’s nothing. Come along, darling!”

You follow her into the room and the door clicks shut of its own accord behind you. The sound causes you to turn, and when you look back she’s quickly shimmying out of her dress. The straps are down and it hangs freely but for the zipper in the back. She bumps you with her bottom and smiles.

“Unzip me?”

You carefully unzip her, taking special care to run the other hand along behind the zipper, dragging it gently across her slowly baring back. She shivers as she steps out of it and your still travelling hand cups a handful of enormous haunch. You’re about to tell her she’s beautiful, that you love her, that you want to try to get her onto the bed, that you’re sorry. You don’t get past the first word before she’s rounded on you and is pushing you roughly against the door at your back. Her hooves undo your belt expertly and she’s got your pants down around your ankles before you can protest.

“It’s- it’s ok. Just give me it, I want it. Do you still want me?”

You manage to stammer out another apology over her sudden stroking of your member, but she shakes her head.

“It’s alright, I promise. I... Alright, I admit, I’m a bit.. Well who wouldn’t be? Since the day you carried me over the doorstep of our boutique, I’ve loved that you can do it. But every princess has to grow up someday... You’re willing to make concessions, step aside from your jealousy and take risks. It would be... utterly deplorable if I couldn’t agree to do the same.”

You stop her as she tries to get her mouth around your quickly thickening rod. She doesn’t have to do this, she doesn’t have to get bigger than she wants. You’re ok with her, thin or big. You’ve found both sexy. Just because one’s your fetish doesn’t mean that she has to do this. You tell her that if she wants, that can be the baseline. As long as you can still lift her, she can get bigger. When you can’t, it’s time to stop until you can again... and if you can’t go past a point, even this point, then that’s a perfectly fine place to stop. You like moving her around too. It’s romantic... and... enjoyable.

She looks up at you bewildered for a moment.

“You’re sure? That’s... that’s wonderful! Oh, that’s a perfect deal. But your poor arms... don’t strain yourself! Don’t get hurt. You’re completely sure? I know... I know you wanted that chance... an immobile pony... are you sure?”

It’s alright. Immobile is impossible, especially with a daughter arriving soon. It’s a pipe dream, a height of fantasy, just like you’d discussed. You feel her nuzzle against your hand with her muzzle and she looks up at you happily.

“Compromises and communication... oh... it’s perfect. Now I really am-”
In turning to embrace her, your erection slaps her face lightly. She halts her words to wrap her mouth around your still thick rod and closes her eyes, working her tongue over and over it. There’s a choking noise and one eye opens. She raises an eyebrow, and the licking ceases, followed by several, smaller, experimental licks. Finally she gags again and slips her mouth off your cock, looking at you and coughing.
“I-it’s... bluegh. Bluuuegh. It’s so... did you use my conditioner by chance, when you had your fun earlier?”
You nod.
“Did you wash it off?”
...Shit. No, you were in a hurry to clean up your mess and hide your shame.
“Well I’m sorry to say, it is just... it tastes of soap and my own... ‘flavors’. Those two things simply aren’t palatable together. Come now, let’s get you cleaned up properly. I want to give you a good one, so can you run us a nice hot bath?”
You step out of your shoes, pants, and boxers before heading into the bathroom. Out in the room you hear her tut-tutting as she folds them neatly and puts them into a drawer. Once in there you turn both taps on full, testing the water for warmth with your hand before plugging the drain. The tub’s fairly large, it should be able to accommodate you both if you squeeze in on either end. You can hear her whistling from the other room and she enters in a bath robe that looks a size too small. Her tummy bulges in bunched rolls from within it, and the cord keeping it shut is barely able to wrap around her fully. Its soft pink texture is welcomed by your wet hands, and she looks crossly at you for a moment before groaning.
“Don’t use me as a towel! How ungentlemanly. Here, I’ve brought your robe too, use it.”
She produces your own white robe and you unbutton your shirt and peel it off of yourself as the tub behind you fills. She hums your song from earlier in the evening as she picks up bottles in her mouth and pours several in until bubbles begin to rise. The room suddenly smells powerfully of blueberries and melon. She turns about to walk out of the room, apparently hearing something you don’t, and you slip into your robe, admiring the view of her curvaceous backside as she sashays into the bedroom. Each step sends shudders through the entire robe, and the back doesn’t quite cover enough to cover up her womanhood entirely. You fasten your robe around yourself and sit on the edge of the tub, barely able to catch an occasional word from her from the other room. You want to ask her who she’s talking to, but she returns to the room with a half a dozen plates of food.

Stacked on the plates are salads, sandwiches, pasta, and garlic bread. It all looks appetizing, but there’s enough food here for two couples, easily. She plops down onto her haunches and begins to eat the pasta noodles happily. You check on the bath water’s temperature before shutting it off. It’s just right, and at this point, the combined masses of your bodies will raise the level the rest of the way. When you look back, the generous portions of pasta are all but gone and she’s batting her eyes at you.

“Well go on! You need to get that cleaned up and tasting nice, or I’ll not be able to have a proper dessert.”

She licks her lips as she gazes at the bulge in your robe and you ease it off and step into the bath. She’s quick to follow and sure enough, once both of you are down the water rises to the lip of the tub. Her hooves grope through the mountains of suds until they latch onto your boner. She starts to stroke it as a sandwich levitates over. In between bites she tries for conversation.

“It needs to be good and clean now. Goodness knows I can’t stomach the taste of soap. Needed a proper meal to get it out of my mouth and off of my tongue.”

By this point the sandwich is gone and she’s reclining onto her back in the water. Her stomach rises through water and bubble, almost entirely blocking her face from your vision. You stretch a foot out in the bath and try blindly to find her womanhood. You first make contact with her expansive posterior, and it’s many inches in every direction before you find the edges. She blushes as she lifts her stomach up a bit. Your foot finds it at last and you gently rub the folds of her labia under the bubbles, toes occasionally slipping into her. On these occasions she moans and wiggles under your touch, but you can’t penetrate deeply enough to result in any real body rocking pleasure.

You lean forward and lick at her stomach, pushing aside bubbles to get at it. Finally you manage it and smother her in kisses, gathering up tummy in your arms and kissing and licking every inch of it you can before releasing it and gathering up more. The whole time she giggles, but the giggles fade to soft sighs as you explore further and further down. Finally your fingers find the entrance to her love tunnel, and you rub gently at the outside of it. She’s been through a lot tonight, a proper massage is in order.

You rub small circles across the folds of her before slipping a single finger in and rubbing the inside of her slit. In front of you she whispers something. You can’t make it out, but you know her well enough to know what she’s begging for. She wants more than just one, but you’re not about to give it up that easily. You tell her so. She shakes her head feebly and spreads her back legs a bit more, asking for another finger again. Just one more, she promises. You look over at the plates of food and comment on what a shame it is to waste them. She shakes her head again and manages words.

“I’ll eat another. If I eat another, can I have them all?”

You rub her stomach encouragingly. Yes, that’ll do. A plate of food for a whole hand? You can fill her up while she’s filling herself up. You draw yourself out of her and tell her to go get it. She hooks her hooves on the edge of the tub and heaves. Water sloshes around and recedes from her body, but she slowly eases onto her back. With a pant and a gasp she tries again, but she still can’t rise. Finally her eyes open, and through the fading pleasure a small look of shock crosses her face. You ask her if she’s alright, and she shakes her head.
Is it the baby?
She shakes again.
“It’s... it’s silly. I can’t get up. I need to be able to get onto my side and then to my hooves. I have to roll over to get up. I can’t... I’m stuck. I simply can’t get to my hooves...”
You reach out, taking her by the forelegs to help her up, and start to pull her forward into an awkward sitting position. Her tummy gets in the way and she finally shakes her head and looks away sheepishly, sinking back into the water up to her neck as bathwater sloshes over the edge of the tub.
“This is... well, isn’t this something you wanted though?”
Sure it is, but not like this, not if it makes her uncomfortable.
“I... It’s alright. I trust you, you’ll fix this. Right now, why not have your fun?”
Really? This could be a serious problem.
“It’s not any more serious now or one salad from now, honestly. Must you always think about me and never about your own wants? Come now, this is perfect. If you need to call a servicecolt for help then one more salad and a little fun first won’t make a difference. And if you can get me out of it on my own, we’ll kick ourselves if you don’t have fun first.”
You look at her skeptically, but she wraps a hoof around your quickly swelling cock and starts to tug playfully.
“Besides, I did promise, didn’t I?”
You must be dreaming. How is it that she’s not freaking out over her lack of control in this situation? You gently halt her hoof’s progress, drawing a glance of unmasked impatience as she looks up at you. Fear and irritation are etched in her face, but when her voice comes out it’s strong and confident.
“Oh come now! I’m scared, but I trust you! Isn’t that enough right now?”
You swallow, not sure you want to be trusted, and lean down to kiss her. She keeps stroking and slips her tongue immediately into your mouth. She’s desperate to put you into the mood it seems, and her tongue rubs furiously at the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth. She knows how to pull you in, and you firmly push at her tongue with your own, finding your heart and fighting back against the sudden invasion. Finally you work her tongue back into her mouth and yours in behind it, lapping eagerly at the taste of her sandwich, still fresh in her mouth. She’s got you hard now, and it won’t be long at the rate she’s furiously pumping before she gets the better of you. You wrench her hoof off and break the kiss.
“Feed me?”
You step out of the bath, trailing water and suds everywhere, hurriedly snatching up the plate of her favorite salad and pouring the entire cup of sweet ranch dressing onto it. Hastily, you scoop it up a forkful at a time and feed it to her. At first her bites are conservative and dainty, but as you force more and more in she becomes greedier. Finally she snatches the plate out of your hands and begins to eat directly off of it, motioning with her free hoof to get the next one. You pick up the bread and she wolfs it down, using it to mop up every drop of precious, fattening ranch dressing. Setting aside her empty salad plate she motions again, finishing with the bread in minutes and rubbing her tummy. She looks at you, eyes wide. You’re in the process of picking up the next plate when you hear it.
It’s a soft whimper, and it turns your head. She’s got her mouth open, tongue hanging out, whimpering and rubbing her stomach with both hooves.
“More... oh please, more?”
The pleading in her voice... the desperation. Is she really acting? If so, she’s incredible. Perhaps she’s truly taken by the moment, but you don’t stop to ponder it further. She has two more plates of food to go, and you hand her one laden with fruits and whipped cream. The sliced fruits are shoveled in by the hoof-ful, and the whipped cream she pauses to inspect before setting aside, perhaps not to her tastes. Lastly comes a plate of apple and carrot slices, and these you give her by the handful. She barely swallows as she manages them, but toward the end she begins to struggle at last. Her hooves massage at the swelling mountain that’s settled over her body, floating slightly in the water. By this point the temperature around her is lukewarm at best, and the bubbles have all but gone. She winces as you hand her another apple slice.
“It’s... it’s a lot.”
You tell her she’s doing great... not much more. She has to push it past what she’s comfortable with, or she’ll never really gain. Just a bit bigger, you promise you’ll lift her out.
“Bigger? For you, I can be bigger. You’ll take care of me.”
Steeled and determined, she swallows the last of the slices and lays back, panting. You reach around her back to let the water out, and she grasps your erection with her hoof. You feel a cold sensation and look down as she spreads the whipped cream over you before taking the shaft all the way up to the balls into her mouth and down her throat. She moans around it and the vibration of her throat is wild. Her tongue works around the pole as she withdraws from it, gathering the last of the cream and smacking her lips as she swallows.
“Dessert?”
You begin to pump your thickness in your hand, overcome by her quick and willing descent into your most desperate dreamworld. She pulls your hand off with much effort and begins to bob her muzzle up and down on it, working her tongue and throat expertly to bring you to climax. Finally you find release in hot sticky shots. She holds her tongue out for them, but your sudden burst of cum fires across her face and all around the insides of her open mouth. She smacks her lips and licks with her tongue until the last of it is in her mouth before sticking her tongue out to present the collected load. Then she gulps it down and smiles up at you. Then it’s over, and she lays back in the tub contented, rubbing her sore abdomen.
Now comes the hard part. You dry yourself off just to be extra careful, making sure there’s no slickness on the floor. Where she lies panting and swollen you stoop down and lift her, being sure to do most of the rising with your legs. Steadily you gain ground, gritting your teeth and grunting in determination. She rises from her sunken position among the remainder of your suds and bathwater dripping wet. Immediately she hooks her hooves around your neck.
“Don’t drop us! It’s too much for you, set me down before you hurt us all!”
You take a few confident steps out of the room. It’s hard, but you manage to get around the corner and into the bedroom before you have to pause with a groan. Now her voice has settled and it comes out in soft, convincing tones.
“Alright, alright. You’ve proven yourself. I’ll keep going. Please... just set me down?”
You step forward again, and again. Only a few more feet. Your arms ache with the burden but you force yourself to go slowly until you reach the bed. There you manage to do an awkward set-down, dropping her only a few inches off the bed. She lands on it with a creak of bedsprings and looks up at you bewildered.
“You... all the way in here?”
You were tired before, from running. It was nothing. You told her so. You wince as your back protests straightening up, but you hide it with an awkward wink and a grin. She holds her forelegs out, invitingly.
“Ohhh... Don’t think I believe that for a second.”
It’s true, you tell her. You ease into bed beside her, and she wraps herself around you. You embrace her gratefully, smoothing her messy mane out of her eyes.
“Alright then, I won’t argue with you... It’s getting late, and I need drying off before we fall asleep.”
You click off the lights and help her to roll on top of you.

***

It’s smokey. All the walls around you are iron clad, you’re racing forward, but no sound reaches your ears. In the dark light of your cabin you cough and look around. The walls are ugly and teal, and a sense of urgency fills you. You must find Rarity. You step out of the train room and into the long dark of the hallway. Behind you, a door opens. Through it you can see a bed, your bed, the hotel bed. Stretched out on crimson sheets amid a soft pink room... She’s in there, giving birth. Twilight and Dash lick lustfully at the sides of her face, and she screams with the effort. All of the hallway rocks and echos with the sound of her birth pains, and she’s fully weeping as she tells you to fetch the pliers from coach. You turn back, and the walls around you are red. The stale air of the cabins around you is replaced by smoke. You’re moving quickly down the corridor now. Where is the train going? Why won’t she let you...
There’s a sound of thundering hooves behind you. You pick up your pace, breaking into a brisk jog. The hoof-falls are getting louder. You’re running now, past rows of open doors. Some open as you pass, and you catch a flicker of red. Beside you Twilight catches up, but it isn’t her hooves you hear. She looks up at you, and you stoop down to pick her up and carry her. She’s small in your arms, no bigger than a foal. You trip and fall, and the ground swallows her. There’s a giggle, and you swallow your loss and burst forward. Out of a nearby compartment, bear traps are thrown onto the floor. You leap them awkwardly and hope they’ll slow your pursuer, but the hoofbeats only increase in speed. You don’t dare look back, another door ahead of you on the left slides open and smoke pours out. The train is stopped, and a door to your right vanishes. You take the remaining distance to it with all speed, hoping the passenger of the left cabin is slow to move.

On the train platform the hoofbeats behind you slow to a steady walk. You’re outrunning it, not far now. Out of the corner of your eye, more red. You gulp back fear and cut left, into a hallway. There’s a bathroom ahead. Behind you the steps are getting louder, slow though they are. You burst in through the door of the mare’s restroom and into one of the stalls. The green tiled floor is slick with water, and the walls around you are molded and rust covered. There are urinals, and they’re overflowing with water, covering the floors. It’s disgusting, but you step up onto the ill serviced commode seat of your haven and try to hide the visibility of your legs from the outside. You fumble with the lock as you hear a click. Someone’s trying to get in. Around you, lights flicker and dim in protest, playing shadows across the room. You realize you can’t hide yours. The door clicks again. You pray it won’t find you, but there’s a splish as it steps through what was ankle deep water. Another splish, and another. It’s approaching the stalls. You tense, readying your body. Nowhere to go, if it comes...
Slap.
Smack.
Slap.
Smack.
It’s out of the water now, and walking across the shallow wetness. Finally, wet limbs find dry floor, and it claps toward you.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
It’s reached the edge. You hear a giggle. A hand reaches under the gap of the stall door, groping about for you. You recoil, trying desperately not to breathe. Does it know? How can it know? Slowly, a dark black mane the spitting image of your wife’s creeps under the door. The head turns fully, and eyes blazing coals of fire framed in a blood red coat look up at you. She wiggles under, four awkward foal legs ending in hands, and stretches one out as her neck and head right themselves to proper angles. All the while she mouths words she can’t yet speak, and the hand continues to grope upward as she approaches. She shouldn’t touch you... she can’t... she musn’t... The hand grows closer as she silently repeats her phantom word. “Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.” The hand grasps your ankle.

You snap awake in a cold sweat with a muffled yelp. Next to you, Rarity stirs at the sound. In the dark her immense and blanketted shape shifts like a rolling hill. Your eyes sting as they try to focus on her suddenly visible face.
“R’you alright?”
You recoil a bit as her hoof stretches out and she straightens up a bit, eyes searching over you. Finding nothing apparently wrong, she shakes her head.
“Something scare you? Bad dream?”
You nod finally. Worst dream. Worst dream ever.
“Wanna talk about it? Tomorrow? In the morning? Over a nice breakfast?”
She looks over at the glow of your clock and you follow her glance. It’s roughly four thirty. She sighs and sits up, looking at you.
“Would you like to...”
She yawns.
“Talk about it now, then?”
It’s your daughter. Quickly you explain the conversation you had with the inventor stallion and you go over your dream. When you’re finished you look at the roundness of her stomach apprehensively. You feel her tail slap at your face.
“Don’t look at your daughter like that. She’s going to be perfect.”
What if she’s not? What if she’s like she was in your dream?
“I said she’d be perfect, not that she’d look like everypony else. You’re special, and so is she. What’s wrong if she looks like that? Wouldn’t you love her all the same?”
Of course... You’ll love her no matter what. You just worry the other foals won’t be as kind, that she’ll always be an outcast.
The light clicks on and your eyes blur in protest. When they finally focus Rarity’s angry face fills your vision.
“Is that how you feel? Do you feel like an outcast, just because you’re not like everyone else? Why, I think of myself as blessed. I’m married to someone one of a kind in every way. Anypony who doesn’t think the same of her-”
It’s not that simple, and Rarity should know it. Foals aren’t that kind.
“And what do you propose we do? Was having a daughter a mistake, then? Is she a mistake?”
No, of course not.
Your mind is slowly clearing, the terror of the dream fading. She’s nothing to be afraid of, and somewhere you’ve mixed fear of her and fear for her up. You admit it to Rarity and her face softens at your plainly guilty tone.
“Now now. Everypony has dreams. Even you. What does that abysmal inventor know? Ours will be the finest family in Equestria. Do you know what I think? I think you should talk to your daughter if you’re so concerned.”
She smiles and pulls aside the sheets, motioning a hoof at her stomach. You raise an eyebrow at her, and she narrows her eyes in response. Her voice comes out frighteningly edged.
“Speak. To. Your. Daughter.”
You lean down and put your ear to her stomach. You’re not sure what to say at this point... Hello?
Rarity sighs and runs a hoof across her stomach.
“Precious little dear. Were you sleeping too? Don’t you want to say hi to daddy? Just a bit?”
Perhaps it’s your imagination, but you feel a small shift.
“Daddy’s worried for you. Isn’t that wonderful though? I can tell he cares, he cares so much... He’s worried for you, I know he is. But he shouldn’t be afraid, and neither should you. He’ll be a wonderful father. The perfect father. I know he will be.”
You lift your head slightly from her stomach and she narrows her eyes at you again. You quickly nestle your head back against it and pose your question from there, awkward position be damned. What makes her so sure?
“Because of tonight. I always knew, but tonight... oh, the man I met and even the man I married was so afraid of speaking up about his feelings. I didn’t want to say anything of course, I know how you don’t care much for it, but look how far you’ve come. Why when I started showing, you barely said a word. Now you’re asking me to dance in front of crowds, talking out your deepest fantasies, telling me about all your fears. That’s a truly great father and husband. I know you’ll do... anything for us. And you’re not afraid to admit you can’t do it all alone.”
You blush, not sure if you care for the last admission. Is she right? Do you communicate more? Perhaps. You don’t think you’re as helpless as all that, though. You rub the swell of her tummy and smile at her all the same, determined to put her faith in you to good use. The words are quiet, words only fit for your own ears, perhaps.
Mommy’s praises are kind of course, but she’s not talking about herself at all... Your precious daughter will always be well taken care of. Her mother thinks, analyzes, sees things you can’t. She’s the most generous pony you’ve ever met, easily the most loving, and one of the most brilliant ponies in the world hands down. You’ve seen her ready to give everything for her family. She’s perfect. She’s lovely. She’s beautiful, and you know any daughter of hers will inherit every ounce of that beauty, intelligence, and generosity.
Your mind stretches back to the afternoon you spoke of, of seeing her dimly through fading consciousness as she paddled through mud and storm to pull you above the water and keep you both alive. She was so brave. You whisper it before sliding up her body and laying a soft kiss on her lips. She’s blushing, and whether she could hear your words or not feels irrelevant. The lamplight keeps half of her face in shadow, and you move one hand to turn it gently so that you can see both sides lit in full. Leaning in, you kiss at her cheek. You tell her how lovely she looks in the light, your hand still rubbing her side.
There’s a gentle kick back at your other hand. Whether hoof or hand or foot you can’t tell, but you don’t care as much now. You hug Rarity to you and kiss her forehead gently, snuggling your body up against hers. She turns her head ever so slightly and meets your lips with hers gratefully. It’s a tender brush of lips, a softly lit room, the closeness of her lavender scented mane filling your nose. Her face and coat, soft beneath your hands. Her breathing, quiet and steady to your ears. Her lips, a soft aftertaste of rose chap-stick. Everything so peaceful, so confident, so secure. You let yourself draw in every aspect of her for just a moment. Another kiss and you run your fingers through her mane. Her hoof runs slowly up your arm, stopping at the shoulder. She nudges gently where the joint is, knowing the spot to be tender. You shiver a little and scratch at her ear, prompting her to nuzzle her face into your open palm.
She sighs a contented “perfect” aloud and the hoof that was on your shoulder slides down to meet and hold your hand. You gently wrap your fingers around it, giving her a kind and affectionate squeeze. She shifts herself slightly, and clicks off the lights with a contented sigh.
“Are you ready to stop being silly and go to bed with the both of us, too?”
It depends on if you keep having wild and crazy dreams.
She blows a raspberry quietly and playfully at your side, moving your hand up a bit with her hoof.
“Pbbt. Excuses. Here, put your hand right there on my stomach. Just for a moment.”
You keep it there for more than a moment, waiting expectantly. Will there be a kick? Can she know that? Time trickles by as your eyes adjust to the returned darkness, and you look at her curiously. Whole minutes have passed by now. Her breathing has steadied, and you realize she’s fallen asleep, your hand still on her stomach. You chuckle and cuddle a bit closer, closing your eyes. With an effort, you drive out the frightening behavior of the blood red foal with images of your wife and newborn daughter. You’re pushing her on a swing... the light of a bright and warm afternoon cascades over you, and your child laughs happily as she goes higher and higher. She doesn’t have to be afraid, she’s safe. Daddy won’t let her fall.
You manage a happy smile and let yourself drift off to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and feel better. You’ll sell gems and clothes and jewelry, and then come home the next day to prepare for the baby’s arrival. No matter what... she’ll have you both. You imagine snuggling her between you two, and your hand rubs at the space Rarity’s stomach currently occupies. Soon, she’ll be here soon. You relax and drift off to sleep; a dreamless and deep sleep.

When you wake up, Rarity’s side of the bed is empty. The sun’s streaming into the window and it looks to be almost noon. You rub your eyes and snap out of bed. You’re late, and incredibly so. You hurry into boxers and jeans, tripping and falling in the process and taking the end table and a pile of dirty dishes to the floor with you. You call out for your wife, but no reply is forthcoming. You pull on a shirt and hurry into the bathroom to brush your teeth. The clock in your bedroom reads twelve thirty seven. You grit your teeth and brush furiously and quickly before stumbling out, hair unkempt and shoes missing. You’re halfway down the stairs before you realize it, but you shrug that discomfort off. Ponies don’t even wear clothes, your lack of shoes won’t be a problem unless you go outside. You have to hope Rarity’s at the booth already.
The fact that she let you sleep in doesn’t sit well with you. You’re supposed to work together as a team, and she shouldn’t be cutting you slack over a silly dream. The nightmare feels a million miles away as you take the stairs four at a time, bounding into the lobby and slowing to catch your breath. She’d tell you to present yourself well infront of everyone if she were with you, and you slow to a walk as you approach your booth. You desperately have to hope she’s there, although if she isn’t you’ve got bigger problems than losing business opportunities. Your fears are put to rest as you approach and see her graciously accepting a bagful of bits and levitating a wide variety of clothes into a wealthy looking mare’s saddlebag. From the looks of the fast emptying table, business is going well.
You reach the table and slide through the small gap allowing you into the booth. She kisses you goodmorning and grins up at you, voice bursting with the excitement of a perfect morning.
“Isn’t it wonderful darling? Oh, they simply adore our things! I’ve sold entire hooffuls of jewelry today, for prices you wouldn’t believe. Why, that mare there told me she simply couldn’t offer us just the paltry sum we were asking... she gave me three hundred bits for the collection! Isn’t that so strikingly generous?”
You smile and rub her ear. Why didn’t she wake you up?
“Oh you were sleeping so peacefully... I simply couldn’t. You looked so happy! I thought maybe you were dreaming sweet things for once.”
You were afraid she’d done it for that reason. You sigh. You’re supposed to be a team.
“And what sort of team would we be if I’d woken you grumpy and grouchy? It’s been just fine. Did you bring lunch as I asked?”
What? What’s she talking about?
“The note dear, the note! I left you a note on the bedside table, you simply must be more observant.”
Your drifting consideration of the capsized nightstand is interrupted without warning. There’s a clearing of a throat and a well-to-do stallion asks about your enterprise. Rarity cheerfully explains it to him, handing him a business card and showing him some of your finer wares. He picks up one of the bracelets you’ve made and eyes it, obviously impressed. After paying high compliments he asks for prices of commissioned work, and you’re almost positive you see Rarity’s eyes bulge before she shoots you an inquisitive look. How much would you charge for commissioned jewelry?
Caught off guard, you ask for specifics to buy time. He elaborates, and you mentally tally material costs and the cost of labor before giving him a reply that you feel is rather generous all things considered. He ponders for a moment before taking the card from where Rarity still offers it and nodding. It sounds a fair price, and he’ll be glad to contact you as soon as possible. Once he disappears Rarity turns back and suppresses a squeal of delight by hugging you.
“It’s been like this all day! We’re easily the most popular booth in our section... we’ve been getting more business than some of the front row booths, it’s quite amazing! And all such classed customers. And just about everypony’s asked about you. Now, as I was saying... lunch! Yes, lunch!”
Your stomach gurgles in agreement.
“There, you see? It’s almost time for lunch break at any rate. If we’re to last until the evening, we simply must have something to eat between now and then.”
“Y’all goin fer lunch then eh? Got anyplace in mind?”
Rarity looks at you awkwardly as the voice from the booth next to you drifts over. The inventor pony from last night sticks his head over the booth walls separating the two of you and winks at you.
“Glad ta see ye up an’ about. Was startin’ ta think ye wouldn’ make it here. Got somethin’ ta show you. Maybe after ye’re back from lunch, eh?”
You give him your most friendly grin as he winds some sort of odd propeller attached to the end of a long and slender tube. He throws you another wink and lets it go, watching it rise into the air and rotate there. Beside you, Rarity’s eyes widen.
“Oh how marvelous!”
It drops to the ground beside you, momentum spent after a few moments, and you look at it.
“Aw shoot, meant to go longer. Mind gettin’ that fer me friend?”
You scoop it up and hand it to him and he appraises your hand for a moment.
“Now that’s a pretty pair of thingies you got there.”
He takes one in his hooves before you can protest and unfolds it, studying the joints, eyes barely inches from your palm. Beside you, Rarity giggles. She nudges you with her horn.
“Oh don’t be so stiff. Let him see. He’s obviously quite sharp.”
You sigh and flex and unflex your hand for him study before drawing it back and shoving both deep into your pockets. He blushes and then shrugs.
“Aw well. You two have a fun time at tha’ lunch, ya hear?”
You shrug and force your hands further into your pockets, following Rarity out of your both and across the show room floor to the lobby. The moment you’re out there, she’s probing you. There’s a swish of a door and you’re in bright warm sunlight, walking up the streets of Canterlot.
“Oh come now. Honestly, did you have to be so rude? Business has been rather slow for that poor fellow, and we’ve just been so fortunate.”
You change the topic. She said people had been asking for you?
“O-oh yes... yes, well. You were the popular topic at the ball last night.”
Have they been buying just in the hopes of seeing you again?
“Well... no. Yes.” Her voice drops to a murmer. “You’re normal, alright? It’s ok. Nopony thinks otherwise. They’re just curious.”
You shrug. If it makes them buy things, who cares why they want it? More money for your family. That’s just fine.
“Well- Oh look darling! A sandwich shop! Come now, let’s get lunch, I want lunch there!”
She grips your arm with her hoof, pulling you suddenly into a swinging open door and practically barreling over a pony who is in the process of exiting on her way in. She apologizes profusely before hurrying inside, her face a mass of bright crimson. Once there she settles into a table, sinking low and watching the pony she almost knocked over walk away.
“S-so he seemed interested in those hands of yours. The inventorcolt that is. Suppose he comes up with something clever with it, wouldn’t that be marvelous?”
You shrug as you sit down, waiting for the waitstaff to get to you both. Your stomach growls again, and you ask her what she’s in the mood for. She seems to have forgotten why she came in, and scrunches up her face at the question before hurriedly picking up the menu and picking something random.
“This looks nice!”
You remind her that she doesn’t like tuna fish and she blushes again and looks back down.
“Yes, right of course. How silly of me, I seem to have forgotten... how about this?”
She had something like it last night, but she seemed to enjoy it.
“Oh, right... ah... Mmm. Craving pickles now that I think about it.”
You shrug at the cliche and close your menu, finally settling on asking her why she’s so nervous.
“No reason, no reason at all! Just... oh, relax wouldn’t you? You seem so irate with me, have I upset you terribly by not getting you up on time?”
You sigh. She promised you’d be partners in this, but you’re over it now. You know how she has a tendency to want to control these situations. As the waiter approaches you place your orders, but once she makes hers you change your mind and get the same thing. The stallion nods and walks off wordlessly. Together you sip your water and she taps her hoof on the table.
“So the sales are going well.”
The break in the silence is painful and you try your best to be engaged, nodding at her to continue.
“I... I’m sorry, alright?”
You take her hoof and smile at her. Was that so hard? She grumbles and looks away.
“Not as hard as my hoof’s going to be upside your-”
You squeeze her hoof reassuringly and she looks down at your hand.
“I imagine he could make something nice with it. Suppose he makes an automatic egg cracker?”
Who?
“The inventorcolt, of course.”
Ah. You’re not sure, you relate the bear trap contraption of last night to her and admit you don’t think he seems like much of an inventor to you.
“Bear traps? Now, didn’t you mention something about that in your dream last night? Goodness, you really should give me all the details on it.”

Well... And so you begin, giving as many details as you can, finally admitting that you suspected the link between the two and aren’t fond of the inventorcolt as a result.

“Oh but it’s not his fault... but I know what you mean, of course. Sometimes when I have nightmares I don’t want to interact with something that was in it and I’m quite nervous and- Wait. Is that why you’re being so difficult with me? Do I remind you of me in the dream? Do you think it means that? Well... I don’t. Do you want to know what I think it all means?”

You bite back a plea for her not to analyze you right now and settle for shrugging.

“You’re closing up on me again.”

How could she possibly get that from the dream?

“No, I mean you’re not talking to me. You’re shrugging again. We communicated so well last night, don’t shut down on me. Please? If you don’t want my opinion, I shan’t give it, but you must tell me. Don’t sit there getting more and more upset until you’re simply sick of me.”

You sigh. Yes, it’s sort of irritating that she wants to pick you apart. To be honest, you can think of a lot of things that the dream might have meant, but it’s in the past. You won’t duck her or your daughter as a result of it, but you’re not going to just up and be amazed by some wild inventor’s linked bear-traps and flying tubes. He’s not worth getting over the awkwardness for. Across the table, she smiles.

“There now, was that so hard?”

Not as hard as your hand’s going to be upside her-
She cuts in, voice icy.

“Oh, I see what you’ve done there. Clever. Quite clever. If that sentence doesn’t end with ‘perfect posterior’ than you can kiss every pound goodbye.”

You laugh and squeeze her hoof, leaning across the table and offering her a quick kiss. Food comes quickly and you look at your sandwich before watching her tuck into hers, easily putting away half of it before you’re even three bites in. You slide her yours and smile. She looks from it to you.

“Eat your lunch.”

You shake your head. She needs it more, she has a growing foal inside her.

“That foal has done plenty of growing. Eat your lunch.”

Nope.

Your stomach cuts in, growling.

“Good heavens that was loud. When was your last meal?”

Well... it wasn’t before the ball, and you didn’t have any icecream. All the dinner went to her in the bathtub, and there were no meals on the train so... breakfast, yesterday?

Her eyes widen and she suddenly slides the last half of her sandwich to you.

“You eat both of these right now or... or... or I’ll keep sex from you for a month. I’ll do it, too. Eat your food. You’re a fool. How are you going to pick me up if you waste away on me?”

With a sigh of defeat you polish off your sandwich, filling up quickly. You slide her half back.

“Full already? Welcome to my world, mister. It’s high time I saw what all the fuss was about, at any rate. Eat it.”

You sigh and groan, wishing she’d be less stubborn as you plod through the sandwich. By the time you’re done with the other six inches of sub you can feel your body stretched and tired. She smiles at you and leaves the appropriate number of bits on the table, rising to exit.

“Come along, darling!”

You rise with difficulty, holding back a burp you’re sure would be accompanied by food. You groan again, asking her why she’s so cruel to you. She swats you playfully with her tail.

“It’s not as easy on the receiving end, is it? Remember that tonight when you want me to go through that last plate of apples. Maybe this time you’ll have a single plate for yourself, hmm?”

You’re fairly sure you’re never going to have another plate for yourself again as long as you live. She assures you that you’re being overly dramatic and that you’ll live, holding the door open for you magically as you enter the cool air of the hotel lobby once more.

“Look at this. Your manners are slipping.”

You hunch slightly, sure you’re going to be sick, sweating slightly, and shoot her a look. Now isn’t the time for this sort of prodding.

“Are you... are you really going to be ok?”

You straighten up and try to let some of the tension out of your body. You’ll probably be alright. It’s just a bit of a stomach ache. Together you make your way back into the dealer’s room and down the rows.

At first glance it seems that your booth is being mobbed by curious mares and stallions, but as your stride brings you closer, you can see that they’ve actually surrounded the neighboring stand. Rarity looks happily up at you.

“There, you see? I knew he could be popular, never fear. I bet everypony wants one of those wonderful flying things. Right as usual!”

You let her have her small victory as you approach, too focused on keeping down lunch until it’s a bit more digested. You duck into your booth and grab a bottle of water, gulping at it eagerly to help the food in your swollen abdomen settle. Task complete, you sigh. Your stomach’s still fit to burst, but at least you don’t feel sick anymore. You wait to tell her the good news. When Rarity doesn’t reappear in the booth after a few minutes you dive into the throng around your neighbor to look for her.

The crowd is much bigger than you’d expected. It’s packed with mares and colts from all walks of life and all areas, conversing in a wide mixture of accents and speech patterns. You finally spot the enormous mass of your heavily pregnant wife at the very front of the booth. Approaching behind her, you gently set your hand on her head and look at what she’s looking at; what the inventor stallion is proudly displaying that has all the attention.

It’s a to-scale silver mockup of your hand. He winds it once more and it flexes its fingers and twists at the wrist. Rarity looks at it captivated, broken from her spell by your sudden touch. Her gaze lingers especially long on the genuine article now resting on her back before shifting to the almost exact duplicate proudly pulling itself across the table by the fingers. She bites her lip before finally stammering out over the crowd. By now ponies around you have spotted the inspiration for it, and they’re pulling and tugging at your spare hand. You slip it back into your pocket as politely as possible, excusing yourself from their grips.

“It’s... it’s quite lovely. You’re quite the talented inventor, sir. Did you manage all of this from only a few looks?”

The inventercolt nods and produces an opposite hand, not yet masked in the smooth silver casing. It’s quite complex, and it looks fully capable of doing many of the things yours can. He proudly demonstrates as it crumples some paper before a flip of a switch extends the fingers and wiggles them. Some “Ooos” escape the crowd of gathered equines and you shift uncomfortably. Rarity speaks for you.

“So what does it do?”

“Do, Ma’am? Why, it does exactly what it were designed to.”

“I’m sorry? Is it... Oh! Is it an automated egg cracker?”

Some laughter from the crowd, and the inventercolt looks around a bit nervously.

“Well, I ‘spect ye could say so, in a manner of speakin’..”

More laughter now, you feel her shrink at your side.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

He points to his flank, where the proud cutie-mark of what looks to be a large rubber dildo resides.

“I-wait, you’re no inventor... Oh my. Oh my GOODNESS. Well, this is... this is simply criminal! You’ve no right to those! Give them back!”

You feel her coil next to you, and you’re sure she’s about to spring over the booth.

“Right? Don’t see nopony’s name on them. Sorry, but everypony’s wantin’ one.”

“No... No!”

She wheels around on the crowd, seething. “You can’t have those! They’re not yours! None of you can... No!”

She storms out of the crowd, leaving every pony present stunned into silence. The sex-toy salescolt tosses his pitch and price out once more, but ponies begin to disperse with guilty looks on their faces. Finally only a few more bold ones make offers. You catch a glimpse of Rarity fleeing the dealer’s room in tears and you’re torn. You need to stay with the booth. You need to, but... You have to follow her, don’t you?

You turn to the salescolt and level with him.

“Hey there. Gotta thankye for these, they’re-”

You pick one up and look at it, not bothering to ask his permission. It clenches down on your finger and you stifle a cry. They’re strong, they grip like vices. You drop it unceremoniously back down on the table, not caring for a moment if it breaks.

“Oi, steady there lad! Ye’re not impressing any-”

You stop him mid sentence as you loom over him. Rarity’s sudden departure fills your mind, her tears and hurt... you’re not sure why she loves them so much barring the obvious, but your hands are hers. You ask him if he knows what those hands can do.

He shrinks back a bit, not used to this tactic. Rarely do ponies threaten each other seriously with physical harm.

“So what, gonna make me throw ‘em away?”

You shrug. He can if he has a conscience, but he’s not going to sell those while you’re standing right there. But he’s in luck. You’re closing up shop in an hour and a half. After that you don’t care what he does.

An half hour passes uneventfully, and each passing minute makes you wonder if you made the right choice. No ponies are coming around the booth after that scene, and all feel too guilty to look at you. For a brief moment you actually wish to be one of them. You wish you were normal. The feeling tightens in your stomach. She’d be happier, right? Your foal wouldn’t be in danger, she wouldn’t be sad right now... she wouldn’t have to protect you and insist that you’re normal when you’re not. You close up shop suddenly and haul your trunk up the stairs to your room. Unable to get the door, you kick at it with your foot. She finally opens it, and you can tell she’s been crying.

“I... I’m sorry. I look such a sight. And I left you to all of that. Sorry.”

You drop the trunk and pull her into a hug. You’re the one who’s sorry. You’re sorry you have to be so different, and she has to constantly protect you. She’s a social loving pony, and you hold her back from that at things like these. She has to watch out for you so much. You feel her push back against you with her hooves and she glares up at you. You sigh, not wanting her to be mad. It’s true. You stoop to pick up the trunk. At the same time, she takes a swing with her hoof and connects with your stomach.

What happens next is too much for either of you. You can’t catch her to stop her. She’s not expecting you to stoop. As a result, the swing is much closer and hits harder than she meant to. You’re already hunched over. She connects solidly, and you feel your stomach tighten. Lunch rushes back up, and you feel yourself curl over after a sudden bout of burning acidic taste. Before she can duck out of the way she’s covered in the stuff, and you drop to your knees, clutching at your stomach and groaning. Your body rocks and more comes up. You feel your stomach twist. You can’t even manage out a whimper, but you look up at her. She’s covered in your half-digested lunch, and quivering. Her mouth opens and closes, and if she’s making words you can’t hear them through your own groans.

It’s been a long time since she hit that state of OCD panic, but you can see her, rigid, struggling to breathe, covered in the filth. You’re sure she’s going to shut down, black out, convulse. You want to get to her, but you feel your stomach tighten again and you have to choke back to avoid throwing up again. Suddenly there’s a warm hoof on your back, rubbing it. She’s pulling you to the bathroom and gets you situated over the bathtub. The hoof continues its soft massage. Words filter back in and you can hear her stuttering.

“Sorry-I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh don’t be mad, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, so sorry! Please?! Don’t be mad at me!”

You choke back and wipe your mouth, vision focusing on her again. She’s filthy, and she pauses from her back rubbing to wipe her face clean. It’s hit her back mostly, but your senses are coming back and she’s entirely coated in the stuff. Wordless still for fear of being sick you turn the tap on the shower and slump down in it. She unsteadily plods over and drops to her haunches next to you.

“I’m so sorry. Don’t be mad at yourself though. Be mad at me. Be mad at me, alright? I’m sorry. I should have admitted it sooner. I love your hands. I love how special they make me feel, and how I’m the only one who gets them... I... I didn’t want you to think I was selfish, but the truth is I’m so terribly selfish. I don’t want anypony to have that one of a kind body of yours. It’s supposed to be just mine.”

You shush her. You’ve had enough intimate revelations between each other in the last few days. This is the first one that doesn’t shock you. Honestly, you know it, and you’ve known it all along. She’s far too transparent in that respect. You direct the water onto her and help her wash her coat off.

“So you’ve really known forever?”

For a while, at least. She has an eye for special things. You might have started as a trophy, but you know you’re more than that now. You’re not that insecure.

She laughs at last.

“Well, at least that’s one of us.”

You pull her close and help her wash behind her ears. She closes her eyes as your hands nimbly wash in all the places she can’t reach, helping to clean and groom her in minutes when it would have taken nothing less than strong magic or hours of care to do it otherwise. Your fingers rub at the soft texture of her ears. They’re an interesting feel and makeup, soft but tight skin stretched over cartilage. You watch as they perk up, indicating her rising mood. You pull her head closer and start to nibble on her ear and you hear a sharp intake of breath from her. Gently you lick at the back of it, eliciting a small kick of her legs. You let your hands travel down her body to her hooves, where you gently rub at the shanks. She sinks back into your arms, reclining under the hot rain of water and letting it land on her tummy as she lays on her back and tilts her head desperately up toward your mouth.

You let out a hot breath into her soft velvety ear and she starts to rub your forearms with her hooves.

“A-are we going to be naughty?”

She’s finally gasping out words, settling during sentances for lolling her tongue out of her mouth and turning her head ever so slightly; trying blindly for your lips with her eyes closed amid all the splashing water. You act as though you’re going to oblige, bending forward and exhaling hot breath over her face teasingly before drawing back out of her blind reach. You lean in again, breath held, invisible to her, drawing up close to her ear before whispering your heaviest “maybe” in her ear. She snaps her head to and meets your lips with her own, immediately and hungrily working her tongue in. Hooves blindly grab your head and hold it in place so that you can’t escape and she works her tongue furiously, almost brushing your throat a number of times.

You slip your hands gently up to her flanks to massage the muscles and she moans under the touch. She breaks the kiss suddenly and pushes you back against the shower wall, appraising your rising erection.

“No. No, we’ll not be naughty just yet. Oh... why did he have to take them? Those are...”

She picks up your hands and licks at one greedily.

“They’re my favorite. My absolute favorite! Why does he have them now? Every slutty whore of a mare in all of Equestria will have one now! They’ll all know what I know, how amazing your hands are and how wonderful they are... but those hands can’t do the things yours can! Give me them. Give me them both!”

She shoves your left hand toward her privates and you can feel heat and wetness coming off of them that has nothing to do with the shower. You part those moistened folds gently with one hand, slipping two fingers in with the other. She bites her lip.

“Nnnh... Do something those can’t. You’re mine, all mine!”

You withdraw your hand.

“What? NO! Give me them! I want them... please don’t tease me now.”

You scratch at her ear suddenly, rubbing shampoo into her coat with the other.

“What are you doing? I Wanted... I want...”

She wants something that those hands downstairs can’t do, right? They can do a lot, but they can’t be gentle.

“You’re right... you’re right! Oh silly stupid pony that I am, I forgot. You can be gentle when you want. Be gentle with me now?”

You nod and help her wash out the soap before scooping her up into a hug and drying yourselves off. Then with all your determination you lift her and carry her into your bedroom where the sunlight streams in from all sides. With all the care you can muster you set her down on her side and start gently to rub at her hooves.

“Nnnnhhhh... Feels good. Feels so good.”

You let your hands work over them slowly in circles. Are they sore?

“They’re always sore. I’ve gone up at least two shoe sizes and they’ve flattened with all the weight... it’s simply miserable... Nnnhhhaaaaaah!?”

Her voice is lost in a sudden cry as you caress the undersides: the tender spots where her hoof cups and the places where the harder parts of her hooves meet her legs. With all proper care you work them up toward her rear, rolling her easily onto her stomach. She stops, looking over her shoulder at you cautiously.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

Yes, it should be. Lying on her stomach or back to sleep isn’t advised, but this short amount of time will do. It won’t be comfortable for long, but it’ll do. She sighs and nestles into the bed as you rub at her haunches. This is a rare angle, and you’ve never gotten to admire and examine just how much her butt swells when it meets her legs in this prone position. It’s enormous from her steady diet of large meals, and even the combined efforts of both hands can’t cup one cheek. She’s likely as wide back there as two ponies now. You watch the broad roll of her back slope downward as the curve of her stomach meets her chest and leaves her leaning into the bed. Her face is buried in a pillow as you continue your work; rubbing, kneading, pulling, pushing, squeezing, palming, cupping, pressing at her vast posterior. With each touch you watch as ripples of jiggling pony flesh quake and shake. Your manhood slaps attentively against your bellybutton and she moans as the massage continues. After several minutes she rolls over to face you.

“Taking your time back there... get distracted, darling?”

Her eyes finally settle on the sight of your boner and widen.

“My goodness, you are working hard to control yourself.”

You roll her back onto her stomach and slip your hands between her thighs, losing them in the milky mountains of fat and slipping a couple of fingers into her. She shifts and groans.

“Not so quick... I’ve an entire body to please.”

You withdraw and lick your fingers clean. She notices the gesture.

“Oh no... that can’t taste... don’t do that, it’s so dirty.”

You spread her legs and bury your head in between them, licking a line from her moist womanhood to the pucker of her ass. When your tongue reaches there she rolls out of reach and onto her back.

“Nnnnhhh. Stop that. You’re being filthy. Go back to massaging!”

You rub at her sides with your hands, coaxing her legs to spread a bit and allowing you back between them. She lifts her stomach as your tongue swirls about her clit, fingers slipping down to keep the folds of her labia and clitoral hood out of your way as you do your delicate work. She’s creaking the bed in only a few minutes, and with a final shudder that you’re sure you hear the frame cracking under, goes still with a great deal of panting.

Mission accomplished, you cautiously lick a line up her stomach, letting your hands work their magic on the swell of her belly as you reach her neck. This you nibble at, arms working to massage her shoulders and neck. Finally you reach her face, rubbing her ears and lapping at her lips until she spreads them eagerly. She lets you kiss her as you run your hands through her hair. It’s dried in her customary coiffure, but your rubbing at her scalp messes it greatly. She doesn’t offer a word of complaint, working her tongue across your teeth and breaking the kiss over and over again to come back for more. At last she rolls onto her side and wiggles up against you. The broadness of her bottom jiggles like pudding as she collides with your mostly prone figure.

You roll onto your own side and try to get an arm over her and onto the bed. It’s impossible, her stomach is enormous at this point. As a normal sized pony you could probably have locked hands around your opposing elbows in the embrace you’re trying to give her now. As things stand however, her back has broadened and the round balloon of her stomach makes it impossible even for your hands to meet each other. They grope for one another desperately, disappearing and cushioning into rolls of side fat as they miss each other by at least a half a foot. Her bottom’s not much better off, rising off the bed at least two feet broad, immense in her four foot long frame.

The sunlight glistens off her hair as she sighs contentedly. She wiggles her buttcheeks against your member and looks expectantly over her shoulder.

“Well? Aren’t you going to slide it in?”

All this talk of communication and she still won’t admit to what she wants?

“Wants? I got what I wanted... You’re wonderful. One of a kind. No stupid metal hands could be the equal of yours in strength or gentleness. You’re a true blessing, a miracle of whatever place you’re from, don’t you see? So go on then... you’ve treated me to the most special of experiences, I haven’t much to offer in return you know.”

She spreads her legs a bit and you look at the enormity of her ass. From where you’re laying, it looks like she has plenty to offer.

“Oh, that’s clever. Are you putting it in or not?”

Spooned up against her you work it blindly between her thighs until you feel the slight entrance between the lips of her privates. You slide in gently, angle too awkward really to thrust, and start to play with her hair.

“Not going to do anything?”

Nope. You snuggle into the warmth of her back, still firm inside her. As long as you can play with this stomach, that hardness won’t fade any time soon. She twists her head about, seeking your lips for a brief kiss. Meeting hers with yours almost forces you to pull out, and when you slide back in she sighs.

“Are you sure you won’t play just a bit?”

Is she going to admit she wants it?

“Yes... Yes I want it. Your hands are good for so much. I’m a naughty pony, and I didn’t tell you how much I wanted them. I want them. Give them to me, please won’t you?”

You slip out of her and slide in a finger in the place of it, gently working it in and out. All the while you’re whispering dirty things in her ear, coaxing her to cum with nothing but your ring finger.

She should cum sooner. She’ll get more fingers that way.

“I want... I want them both.”

She knows that’s dangerous. It’s too much to stretch that much. On the end of your hand she squirms and shouts.

“I want them both! I want them both!”

Maybe. You need to make sure it’s safe.

“Make Twilight tell you. She can... she can watch and make sure it’s safe!”

Twilight? You slip a second finger in. She wouldn’t just be trying to get Twilight involved, would she? She’d tell you, right?

“No... no of course not. I’d tell you.”

Good, because lying fat ponies don’t get three fingers.

“A-alright. I want her involved. I want her to at least watch! I want Dash too! Please?”

You slide another finger in, nibbling at her ear and whispering in it. What about your wants? Is she going to get both hands and both ponies?

“Nnnhhhh. You can do it however you want. I’ll stuff myself before. Maybe after too...”

You slide one finger out.

“During! You can stuff me while they watch. They’ll know I’m a no-good hopeless fat pony who needs... who needs your hands!”

You slide the third one back in and she rocks around you, finally climaxing. She lies there, panting. She’s soaking wet all over now, a pool of drool coats the pillow her head was resting on. You slide down next to her and spoon back up against her.

“You... were you just playing with me?”

Playing with her? Well, yes. You were knuckle deep in her, to be precise.

“You know what I mean! Did you mean it, about letting them join in?”

Now that it comes to it you bite your lip nervously. It could get out of hand but... Alright. You kiss her cheek. You’re willing to try. Beside you she giggles and cuddles up to you, head resting on your chest.

“Perfect. When we get back to ponyville then.”

Really? You were going to wait until after the foal...

“No. I want to try it before that. After a foal goes through things might get...”

Her voice drops and her ears flatten.

“Get... well, looser. And I want to manage them both while it’s still good and tight.”

You groan. It’s already going to be dangerous, you’re sure. Is it worth the risk, really?

“It’s not going to be a risk. You know how Twilight is. She’s smart, and knows things about... things. Why, I bet she’s been shank deep in Rainbow dash, and that pony doesn’t have small hoo-”

You interrupt her with a nervous cough, not sure you want to hear where that’s going.

“W-well anyway... I’m sure she can... Oh, I don’t know. We’ll see. We’ll see. She warned us all about your hands before... you remember? About accidentally forcing in air and the... and about being careful while doing things with your mouth. She knows things. I’m sure she’ll be able to help this time, too!”

You sigh. It seems like it could get awfully dangerous, but her heart’s set on it. You have to hope Twilight will know better than either of you. You kiss her horn and tell her so, and she smiles.

“I trust Twilight. I trust you, too. You won’t let anything happen to me. You’ll be careful, I know you will. You’ll put your hoof... foot... thing down. If it gets to be too dangerous.”

You nod. You’ll keep your head, you’re sure of it. She kisses your cheek and settles her head happily back on your stomach, mane splayed out in beautiful violet under her head and across your chest and shoulders. You kiss a lock of it, smelling the thick scent of lavender. Tomorrow you’ll hop on a train together and go home to Twilight and Dash, only a week away from your baby’s delivery date. Hopeful and happy you recline in the softness of the hotel bed and contemplate what you’ll order for her dinner. At your side she wiggles up to be even with you, putting in her own opinions on what was good. You both agree on more salad and ranch dressing. Gently you rub at her tummy and she kisses at your cheek. You happily talk about things gone by and things to come as evening quickly creeps through the window.

Dinner comes and goes, and she sits amid a pile of plates stacked two high each. She’s stuffed to barely moving at this point and you snuggle up against her and click the lights off. She kisses you goodnight as you climb in, humming your wedding song softly to her. You can feel her shift her weight until her back is to you once more. She clears her throat and wiggles her bottom against your spooned pelvis. Imperceptibly among the darkened room you feel her legs spread. You slip yourself out the front of your boxers, sliding into her. She’s well lubricated, still wet from where you rubbed her tummy post-dinner. She sighs happily as you manage inside her. Before long her breathing has gone steady and you kiss at her back and rest your head closer to hers. It doesn’t take much until your breath matches her pace and you have a rare moment of dim awareness at your slowly slipping consciousness. With fresh moonlight pouring in your hotel room window, lost in the abundance of her warmth, you fall asleep happy and secure.

Chapter 11

=====================================================================

-Part 11: Pregnant Rarity, Anal, Double Fisting, Foursome, Lactation / Breast Feeding, Oral Sex, Heavy Foodplay and Stuffing, Light Immobility, Hand Play.

It’s six at night when you stumble through the door of Carousel Boutique and find her reclining in a chair. Outside the sun is lowering against the horizon of Ponyville, and stars can be seen faintly sprinkled and scattered against the multicoloured backdrop. The fading day star stretches your shadow in the door and across the floor, where it falls on her until it’s abruptly switched off by your closing the door.
In her cushy recliner she continues to sew a horn puppet shaped like a mouse. She looks up as the light and shadow vanish, squinting at your silhouette until the light is extinguished and she can get a proper appraisal of you. She smiles warmly and sets aside her gem studded sewing.
“Did you have a fun time at the bar with Rainbow Dash? You weren’t gone very long.”
You hurry across the floor and climb into the chair with her, awkwardly stretching your legs over the arms and across her lower half. She gingerly moves the mountainous swell of her belly out of the way, smiling at you as your hands immediately travel to its expanse and begin to rub and massage.
“Did you get all worked up thinking about me? Hmmm?”
Her voice seems dim and the alcohol in your system still robs you of the full extent of your senses.
“Did you talk to Rainbow Dash about ... that?”
You finally break your silence, face buried in her neck and chest, words occasionally broken by the powerful desire to suckle at her. You tell her that you mentioned you’d like to have dinner and drinks with her and Twilight. Tonight.
“Tonight? As in... tonight, tonight?”
You nod and nibble.
“Well goodness me, that wasn’t what you were meant to be doing. I send you off to ask about a ... mutual evening of pleasures, and you bring them over for dinner? I’ve nothing prepared!”
You can’t help your slurred words. She’ll do fine. She’s the besht pony. The really best. She can make dinner fast.
“I... good heavens, is Rainbow Dash as drunk as you are?”
You burst out laughing. More, probably. She tried to keep up with you, and that was a bad plan. It was a bad plan eight beers, three shots, and two mixers ago.
“I... oh my stars. How in Equestria are you breathing? Sit here, I’m going to fetch you some ... nnnhhh.”
She strains against you.
“Darling. You’re on my legs.”
You shift yourself and bury your face between her hind legs, tongue licking at anything it can reach.
“Nnnyyhaaa.”
Hooves grab at your head and force you back up so that she can look you in the eyes.
“How long do we have?”
Probably until Dash is sober enough to fly here. You said two hours, but it’ll probably be closer to three. A bit of panic enters her voice.
“THREE HOURS? That’s all you’ve given me to work with? What on earth shall I make?!”
She should make that one dish thing she makes good.
“You’re-nnnhhfff”
She rolls you off of her, and you hit the floor with a thud and laugh stupidly. She practically slithers out of the chair to find her hooves, legs not strong enough to lift herself out of it.
“-Hhhnnng-No help at all. None whatsoever. Stay here and let me get you some water while I think of what to make.”

You watch her sashay off into the kitchen and force yourself to sit up. The carpet of the Boutique is soft, but it’s rough and hard on your back compared to her chair. As you stand you do some numbers in your head. Three hours ... whatever she puts in the oven has plenty of time. You start to unbutton your shirt, but your fingers are clumsy and after a moment of fumbling you decide to just pull it off over your head. Instead it gets stuck and you stumble about, losing your balance and falling into the chair where you cackle hysterically until the soft thudding of her approaching hooves brings you back to reality. Somewhere outside the dark and hot prison of your shirt you hear her laugh. A hoof grabs you and helps right you before pulling the shirt off of your head. You’re greeted with fresh cold air and an outstretched hoof forcing a full glass of water into your hands. Her words stumble out through raucous laughter.
“What on ... what in Equestria were you trying to do?”
You mumble something about wanting to be sexy.
“What- how... I came back in to your butt straight up in the air and you half suffocated, upside down in my chair. How in the world did you even make it home from the bar?”
You grumble between hurried gulps of water. She should be nicer. You did what she asked.
“You most certainly did not. I asked you to tell Rainbow Dash of our intentions over drinks. Did you even bring it up?”
You tell her that it’s harder to bring up kinky foursome sex in a bar than she apparently expects. You did your best, but out there everypony stares at you and tries to listen to your conversations. Dinner was the best you could think of.
“Well, it’s a miracle you thought of something so clever in your state. Did you really have that much to drink?”
Split between the two of you, yes.
“Oh, thank goodness. So you didn’t have all of those yourself?”
No, just most of them. The mixed drinks were Dash’s.
“Good heavens. I’m going to fetch you another glass of water. Don’t even think about trying to get your pants off in your state, I’d rather not return to find you somehow hitched to a wagon by them.”
You slip off your shoes and blow her a raspberry. As she reaches the kitchen door, you shout for her to shake it. She looks incredulously over her shoulder at you.
“I ... you’re so vulgar tonight. Is this what you want?”
She starts to gyrate her hips, letting her rump slip toward the ground. Once there she jiggles her backside intensely, watching your reaction before finishing with a sultry wink. By the time she’s finished she’s panting, the exertion proving difficult for a pony of her weight and size.
“Now remember ... no taking off those pants yet.”
Then she’s gone into the kitchen, and you’re already disregarding her orders. It’s the work of seconds to get your belt off and fly unzipped, pants and boxers down to your knees, boner springing free into the chilly autumn air. You briefly wonder at the temperature of the Boutique before spotting the empty fireplace. She’s let the fire go out, and you groan and take to your feet to build it up again, only to remember the position of your pants at the last minute and fall to the floor with a thud. She’s back in the room calling out for you when she finds you sprawled on the floor shirtless, boner at attention and slapping against your bellybutton as you continue your efforts to sit up. Her snorting laughter as she hands you the second glass of water almost stops her words entirely.
“I ... I was kidding. I didn’t think you’d actually- oh good heavens you’re so bad.”
She straddles your prone figure, lowering her neck and head to kiss your forehead.
“Poor baby. Did you fall down?”
You reach up and grab her sides and tummy, positioned conveniently right above your hands and chest.
“Did you hurt anything?”
Your hands creep around to her backside, disappearing into the abundant meat of her bottom.
“I’ve decided I’m going to make my special dinner. Do you want that? Do you think they’ll like it?”
Your mind swims, distraction evident as your hands wander back further and rub against her nipples. Only in the last few days have they begun to poke through their normal hiding place among her soft and plush undercoat. Now they’re distended, slightly swollen. You ask her if she’s milked herself this evening.
“Twice. It’s already borderline painful again, too... Shouldn’t be long before the baby, should it? Twilight said most mares start producing milk a week or two before their due date. I’m surprised it’s taken this long...”
You roll one of her nipples between your fingers, eliciting a gasp from her.
“Are you going to-”
You bring your second hand up to squeeze and crane your neck to see around the swell of her belly, watching intently as milk slowly starts to drip free from her tender mammaries. She moans softly in your hands.
“Nnnhhh. Be gentle now. It still tastes awful, I suspect my body’s-”
You pinch one nipple and she shivers, dropping into a sitting position on your legs and exposing her nipples more plainly to you. Now you can see that her teats have swollen considerably. In a single day most mares produce one to two liters at the height of their lactation. Rarity’s case has been considerably different. The onset was practically over night, and eight milkings a day barely alleviate her rather extreme discomfort from getting too swollen. The milk’s still not edible, but Twilight believes her unusually large production has something to do with her weight, and might be a possible hint that the foal won’t be entirely a normal one. This thought continues to leave you uncomfortable, but you’ve done your best to assure Rarity that everything will be alright.
You slap her haunch and tell her to go get a bowl so that you can milk her properly. She moans, taking to her hooves and plodding off to the kitchen.
“I’m going to go ahead and get dinner started. You can milk me dry while it’s cooking.”
You finish getting your pants off before standing, boner still firm. Milking her isn’t your only plan, and you hurry into the kitchen after her to find her magically dicing potatoes and melting cheese on the stove. She starts to roll the potato bits in the cheese at around the time you come up behind her, boner resting on her back, hands cupping her haunches and squeezing them.
“Goodness you’re excited tonight. Are you at least trying to sober up?”
You slip a finger into her and she shivers, her work with the potatoes almost done. You continue to play it in and out as she works, watching her twitch every now and then. After a few minutes three huge pans of the cheesy spiced potato slices are eased into the oven and she levitates a large bowl down to the ground and clambers her front hooves into a chair, resting her head on a table. You slide the bowl under her and gently squeeze the mounds of her breasts, milk leaking between your fingers into the bowl. She shudders and moans, and you can feel heat coming off her womanhood. She’s just as aroused as you are by your touch. As you’ve done every time, you allow a small sip of the milk to pass your lips. It’s sticky, not quite white, clear and sour. Her body’s not quite gotten the internal recipe right yet, as it were, but Twilight’s said it can be a good indicator of when the foal is coming. Rarity shifts uncomfortably as you taste it.
“Isn’t it quite ... nasty? Come now darling, just help me empty them ... they ache so...”
You start to pinch, pull, and squeeze. Sobriety is sneaking into you, at least to the point that you think to ask her if she’s comfortable. She replies with a sigh that sounds like a balloon deflating. You watch as the milk level in the bowl continues to rise. She tries to snake a hoof around her belly to her privates, but you gently remove it and rub her yourself. She groans as you do it.
“Tonight... Tonight Twilight’s- She needs to watch. Oh I want both of those hands. I’ve been waiting positively forever to get both. I want them ... please, just a finger now?”
You slip in your middle finger and she squirms around it, milk flowing freely and dribbling down her hanging breasts and into the bowl in steady drips.
“One more. Just one more?”
You give her two and she practically screams. A small stream of milk begins to pour now, her body responding to your sudden probing with total release. You use your free hand to continue to coax more milk out of her with firm squeezes until at last the stream stops running of its own accord. She sways her hips hopefully, begging in hushed tones for you to put it in. You finally oblige, your work apparently done. In seconds you’re buried up to the hilt the warmth of her womanhood.
Through the alcohol fueled haze you can hear her screaming with reckless abandon, begging you to go harder, faster. You drive her into the kitchen table, chair sliding out from under her as you support her with both arms. She’s on the floor now, hips pumping back and forth furiously to increase the speed at which you’re smashing into her. A puddle of milk begins to form where the masses of her breasts are squished against the floor. She continues to squirm and pump her hips, leaving smears of streaky white liquid all across the tiles. She’s flowing heavily again, and she’s begging you to help them. She flops onto her back and the streams arc from her nipples and onto your pelvis. Both hands latch on with rough squeezes and pulls, twisting and pressing them as if they were a cow’s udders.
Milk jets out between your fingers, up onto your chest and neck. She’s squealing and moaning, hips rolling and body sliding about the lubricated floor. You continue to pound with all your strength, the distant sensation creeping in through your inebriation and welling up until it bursts from your mouth in a ragged scream. Her insides are flooded and her hooves scramble to pull you in, coating you in a slick covering of milk. She finally gets a good grab on your shoulders and pulls you down for a kiss, groaning and moaning into your mouth, tears streaming down her face. Slowly, she grows still, the ragged gasps of her breath and heaving of her body underneath you the only indicator of the intense pleasure still coursing through her. You help her to her hooves and she surveys your work: the large mixing bowl you’d been given has a pool of milk in it roughly an inch deep. She scrunches up her face and the floor flashes, cleaning itself up.
“G- Go get a shower and some clean clothes. I’ll see to dinner, hmm?”
You sigh and stumble out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the shower. It’s a half hour before you’re cleaned up and downstairs. She’s back in her chair sewing when the timer goes off.
“That’ll be the potatoes, done.”
She struggles to get to her hooves but can’t get out of the chair.
“Nnnghhh. Stupid... Stupid weight.”
You kiss her cheek. She’s beautiful, and she should stay put. You’ll come back to give her immobile body tummy-rubs.
“Don’t just ... you and your fetish, honestly. Go get the potatoes before they burn.”
At her bidding you hurry into the kitchen, stumbling as you go and smashing the doorframe with your leg. Despite the steady stream of curses you let loose the pain isn’t too bad, and you limp into the kitchen to rescue her cooking from the oven. It’s only the work of a few minutes and some oven mitts to get the absurd amount of food out of the oven and off the stove. Cheesy potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a bowl of diced fruit with whipped cream. You grin at the incredible impromptu meal, hurrying to straighten up the dining section of the kitchen and put out the good china and glasses. You remove the cork on a particularly fine vintage wine and return to the living room triumphantly to await Dash and Twilight.
Rarity eyes you as you come back in and takes the puppet she’s been working on off of her horn.
“Did you hit your leg a minute ago? It sounded nasty.”
You shrug. It doesn’t hurt that badly.
“Well, let’s see it, hmm?”
“There now let’s have a loo~WUAHAHA.”
You pull up your jeans leg with a sigh, rolling your eyes. You’re greeted with a large red smear of blood. You quickly move to cover it back up but she stops you with a grumpy glare.
“Hold still... You’re a great big idiot you know that? Trying to pretend you’re alright when you’re not.”

You sigh as she scrunches up her face, horn beginning to glow. The ring on your hand shines with a brilliant light and you hold it up to look at it. When you look back down, the blood is gone and the cut on your knee has vanished as well, leaving behind nothing but a large bruise.
“There now. That’s better.”
You shake your head, wondering just how drunk you still are. Could she always do that?

“No, not always. But I had a suspicion. Twilight said my magic might get a little bit better where you’re concerned. Said it happens sometimes to unicorns who pick mates, and that it’s just an interesting application of my gem handling and finding magics.”

You sigh and rub her ears, stopping only to tell her she’s incredible.
“Hmmmm ... tell me more.”

She’s the best pony in the world. So smart and clever.

“Really?”
Your hands creep down to her belly and she shifts a bit, spreading her legs slightly.
Really, really. She’s beautiful, too.
“Mmmhmm... go on...”
A knock at the door snaps you both to attention.
“Dash and Twilight? Already? You said two hours. It’s barely been one!”
You shrug, awkwardly approaching the door. Behind you she struggles to get out of her chair, but can’t.
“Oh no ... no, no wait. I need a shower!”

You open the door and are greeted in the dusk by a grey pony handing you a handful of letters. The mailmare smiles her wall-eyed grin at you before taking off for the next home. You close the door behind her and sift through it. A few bills, some subscription renewals, and a letter from ... Sweetie Belle? You toss it to Rarity before she can ask who was at the door.
“It’s a tad late for the post isn’t it? Dear me, that poor pegasus who does all the delivering must be exhausted by the end of the day.”

She opens the letter and bites her lip.
“Hmmm. Sweetie says she wants to come back into town to help with the birth. Isn’t that nice? But I hope she’s doing alright... She’s still not had a a single positive step in her music career, you know?”
You nod, carrying the other things into the workshop room to be looked over and paid later. When you return to the living room she’s struggling to get out of her chair again.
“Last one was too close a call. Nnnnf. Need to go shower.”

You cross the room to her and ease her back in the chair, rubbing her belly.
“Nnhh. No, no. You know I need to go shower. Don’t...”
You smother her tummy in kisses.
“I’ll sit back down in it after dinner. You can ... have your way while I can’t move then, alright?”
You hold up a hand teasingly to her face. Doesn’t she want this?

“You ... you know I do. Stop that.”
She struggles to break her gaze from your digits before finally breaking down and spreading her legs.
“Just ... quickly. Just a couple.”
You slip two into her, her insides already sticky, soft, and wet.
“Nnnh. So soon after being naughty. We musn’t...”
You slip a third finger in and she whimpers.
“Give me ... give me all of them.”
You lean down. Does she really want that? She said you shouldn’t.

“I lied. Give me them all ... please?”
She spreads her legs a little more and massages the mountain of soft pony flesh that’s pooling between them. You pull out and she snaps her hooves around your arm, pulling roughly at your hand, rubbing it vigorously at the entrance to her opening.
“Nnnnhhaaaa. Come shower with me?”
You flex your spare hand in front of her face. You tell her she should save it for Twilight and Dash. Immediately, blush creeps into her face.
“Alright then. Help me up?”
You scoop your arms under her and lift with your legs, setting her on the floor with a bit of difficulty.
“Mmmm. I guess I’ll be eating heavily tonight after all.”
You smack her enormous posterior and tell her she’ll be twice as big before you can’t do it anymore.
“We’ll see about that. I can see you struggling, you know.”
Nonsense. You hook your arms around her to lift her again but she wiggles away.
“No, no. You’ve proved your point. You can stuff me later tonight.”
And with that she darts up the stairs before either of your self control snaps. You sigh and flop into her chair, exhaustion and alcohol creeping into your thoughts and numbing your mind. You feel your eyelids close, and you start to doze off.

You’re awakened by a hoof shaking you some time later. Dash’s face comes into view.
“Hey... Hey, dude. Dude, we’re here. Didja forget about us?”
“Dash... Dash, don’t. If they’re tired, we should go home.”

You snap up at Twilight’s voice and look around. They’ve walked in. You feel a tingle in your legs and look down to find Rarity curled up and blinking away sleep. You try to piece together how she got there, when she did it, how long you’ve been asleep, but Dash just grins at you.

“You should totally see yourselves. You’re such old timers, I swear. Does being parents mean you act like a pair of old grannies? Seriously, you slept through us knocking and coming in your front door. How do you even do that?”
At your feet Rarity hops off the stool and stretches.
“I should like to know too, but after you were twenty minutes late I supposed a nap was in order, Rainbow Dash.”

Dash rolls her eyes as Twilight apologizes for both their lateness and their intrusion.
Rarity has to muffle a yawn before replying.
“Now now... ...Twilight. That’s all water over the dam. Let’s get to the dinner table, yes? No sense in waiting a moment longer.”

You all follow Rarity into the kitchen and up to the table, where she takes her place at the head and the other ponies hop into their respective seats. You take your own near her and Rarity starts to pour wine into glasses for everyone but herself as Twilight levitates the food off the warmers and onto the table.
“Wow Rarity. You’ve sure outdone yourself this time. What a great looking meal!”
Twilight’s compliment earns a proud smile as she waits for people to pass the dishes around and load their plates up. Rarity goes last, taking anything that remains and loading her plate up with it. Even in this company you can’t slow your arousal as you watch her take polite and measured bites of the enormous portions, imagining where every single calorie might go. She sips her water, listening politely to any bits of conversation Twilight and Dash bring up and occasionally giving her input on things; how business is going, the state of her health and the baby’s, if she’s still putting out as much milk as usual. At this last one, Rarity politely sets her fork down, and you know it’s coming.
“Oh, yes ... yes. Just tonight in fact we had to milk them a third time … it’s been simply awful. When we do it, I just can’t keep my hooves off him either ... and of course he can’t keep his hands off me. Things just turn so naughty so quickly, you know?”
Twilight chews politely and blushes, but Dash quickly darts into the conversation, face deeply red from the wine.
“Oh man, I totally know that feeling. Tonight when I got back from the bar, oh yeah. Couldn’t keep my hooves off this silly filly over here.”
She pumps her hoof in the air victoriously while one of her hind hooves nudges Twilight’s. Twilight’s ears flatten slightly and she looks awkwardly at the floor as she tries to slow the direction of the conversation.
“Rainbow...”
“Gah, you should have seen her when I got home. Couldn’t even tell her we had dinner to go to until I’d dragged her into the shower... And then we needed ANOTHER after that, but you know how it goes. I’m tellin’ ya, unicorn sex is so. Freaking. Amazing.”
Rarity eyes the blue pony sagely. The only one present who’s one hundred percent sober, she’s totally prepared to sneak in the conversation starter through everyone’s lowered inhibitions.
“Oh my goodness, yes. We both needed showers after our interaction as well. Not as badly as the last time the four of us ... but do you remember that? Oh my stars, what a night!”
“Ohh yeah. I keep telling Twilight we should totally, totally hop back in bed with you two crazies sometime, but you know how hard it is to get this pony to do anything.”
“Oh really? So you mean you two might be ... interested in doing something like that again?”
“Well...”
Twilight finally breaks in.

“Rainbow, please. I don’t know that it’s ... such a good idea to talk about this over dinner.”
Rarity cuts in quickly, seeing her window closing.
“But... Well, Twilight. If I’m honest, that’s sort of the reason we invited you ponies over tonight.”

“I... I’m not sure that’s such a good idea Rarity. Can’t we talk about something else? It’s just so sudden, and you with a baby on the way and all... I don’t think it’s wise.”

“O-oh... Oh right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Mean to make it awkward?”

“No. Yes. I mean...”
“I thought you guys got really jealous over the last time we did it. Did something change?”
“You could say we’ve been talking. We’ve talked out a few ... kinks.”
Dash re-enters the conversation with a sudden interjection.
“Oh yeah? Us too!”
“Not enough we haven’t.”
“But Twilight-”
“This isn’t something I feel comfortable discussing in front of other ponies, Rainbow. Please?”

You politely take everyone’s plates, carrying the leftovers over to the refrigerator. By the time you return Rarity’s blushing and Twilight and Dash are pouring another glass of wine. It looks like the ponies are migrating to the sitting room. You follow them as they wrap up the conversation, Twilight promising to give the matter some thought before settling onto the couch with Dash curled up on her legs.
“It’s not that I’m opposed, I just ... we need some time to think on it.”
“I understand perfectly, my dear. You needn’t get involved tonight if you don’t want. Do keep in mind that our time is running out though...”
“I know. I’ll try to give you an answer by tomorrow, alright?”
Twilight smiles reassuringly at her friend and Rarity grins back.
“Alright then. Until then, I thought maybe... Maybe you could do us a favor?”
“Oh?”
“Well... You know how I’ve a fondness for hands.”
“Yes.”

“And recently I’ve been ... well I’ve been wondering, do you think it’s safe to put two of them in?”
Dash sits up.
“Do you mean to tell me you can get those-”
She looks over at your hands.
“-Those things inside you?”
Twilight covers for Rarity’s mounting embarrassment.

“Rainbow Dash. Please. A mare can fit plenty of things into her, as you know aaaallll too well.”
Dash blushes and sinks her face into Twilight’s side with a sudden and uncharacteristic embarrassed grumble.
“To answer your question ... it might be a bit dangerous. But I think it’s possible. Especially after the foal, things will be a bit ... stretched after that. Try to remember-”

Rarity cuts her off quickly.
“Oh ... we weren’t going to wait that long. I was really hoping we could get them in before the baby.”
“Oh... Gosh, I... I’m not sure about that, Rarity. That’s not a place you want to rip, harm or damage right before the baby.”
“But wasn’t it you who said that a couple can continue to have ... relations...”
Dash snorts at her choice of words, but Twilight glares her into submission.
“Up until the birth, as long as they’re careful?”
“Well, yes. I’m not saying it’s impossible, Rarity. But you need to be a good judge of when it hurts, just like anypony ever needs to be. You’ve told me before that’s a tough call for you to make”
“Yes, that’s why I was thinking perhaps ... perhaps tonight you might watch over us while we try it.”
“You mean like ... participating.”
“No, not participating. Just watching.”
“You mean like participating.”
“No! Twilight Sparkle, surely you see the difference?”
“That ... watching you have sex is only a step away from getting involved. You know how these things go Rarity. I told you, I’ll make up my mind tomorrow.”
“I... I didn’t mean to make it seem like-”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But my answer stands. I’m sorry, Rarity.”
Rarity’s ears flatten and blush creeps up to her horn. The crushing feeling of embarrassment for her leaves a tight feeling in your own gut. Twilight apparently also feels for her, because eventually she breaks the silence.
“Well, if Rainbow will go pick up the book for me... I’ll thumb through it now and see if I can do a little research to make sure it’s possible. How’s that sound?”
Rarity smiles.
“Oh Twilight, you needn’t... I mean, I really do want you to enjoy tonight and relax with us, you needn’t read.”
Dash is up and out the door already and you can’t help but laugh. Events are just not playing out as your hefty wife expected at all tonight. As soon as she’s gone Twilight’s grilling you both.
“Alright, we have five minutes. Maybe more if the book’s hard to find. So tell me about this ... talk you had. Dash and I had one recently.”
Rarity sits up and leans into Twilight and together they look for all the world like a pair of horned conspirators as they deal in their gossip.
“So he finally came clean about that fat fetish eh? It’s about time!”
“Oh I was rather shocked at how deeply it ran. Did everypony know but me?”

“Well we knew he liked you big. But that is pretty interesting. Dash finally admitted to enjoying being held down, I swear I thought she’d never come clean. Last night was our first go at strapping her to the bed fully and-”
“Oh my goodness, how kinky! How’d it go?”
“It was amazing. You should have heard her beg.”
“Oh, I know that sound. I’ve got him trained too, you know.”
Now seems like an excellent time to go get another glass of wine, and you pull yourself away from the conversation. Nopony replies when you excuse yourself, and you’re certain that their ignoring your presence is half the joke to them. You duck out of the room as they continue to gossip like school fillies and reach for the wine bottle before shrugging and chugging down the last few mouthfuls and opening another. You decide to bring it back into the other room with you as you sneak back in.
“You should see how hard we have to strap those wings down.”
“Well I should bet so. You did mention they were strong.”

“You haven’t lived until she brushes you down there with them. She’s so soft, they’re so incredible.”
“Why Twilight sparkle, do you have a wing fetish?”
“No, it’s nothing like her horn thing... I think I just have a Rainbow Dash fetish.”
“Ohhh that’s such a sweet thing to say. You really care for her, don’t you?”
“I... I’d raise the sun for her if I could, Rarity... Just to see her face in its light for a few more minutes a day, I’d stop time itself.”
“That’s so poetic... I wish a certain someone would say such things about me.”
You have so said those sorts of things. Has she forgotten how you praised her in the moonlight only a couple weeks ago? But you’re still being ignored, at least until-
There’s a thud at one of the windows and Dash flies in before crashing into Twilight on the couch. They roll around for several minutes, Rarity leaning back and watching as Dash locks her lips drunkenly into Twilight’s. Twilight sneaks a glance at Rarity before getting a nod and returning the kiss, her hooves sneaking down to Dash’s wings and rubbing them tenderly until at last the pegasus breaks the kiss.
“You didn’t tell me what book to get, so I just brought the ones off your desk labeled ‘Rarity.’ Sorry.”
“Oh Rainbow, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. This is perfect!”
Twilight holds a book aloft before flipping through it. At her side on the couch Dash buries her head in her mate’s soft side and drifts into a nap. Rarity starts to sew a new puppet and you creep across the room and start to build a fire as Twilight continues to flick through pages intently. The next hour or two pass slowly. Occasionally you’ll all be broken from your respective tasks by Dash’s drunkenly kissing and nibbling at Twilight’s neck. The lavender pony will resist only at first, always inevitably consenting to letting her partner travel across her body to her lips with kisses until the aroused mare is calmed and snoozing at Twilight’s side once more.

For your own part you stay snuggled up to Rarity. Both of you are growing warm by the fire, and you gently rub at her tummy, sometimes drawing a soft kick from the restless foal within. She continues to take measurements of your hand while it rests there, obviously trying with difficulty to make what looks like a glove. Once she’s got it she stuffs around it with padding and adds three more fingers. You frown as she completes the rough outline of her octopus hand puppet. She looks up to you at last and whispers happily.
“Won’t the baby love it? I just know she’ll enjoy playing with us, I’ve made this lovely horn puppet ... and now you can play too. You can be her octey. Look, the eyes are going to go here and here ... we’ll give it some cute little patterns, and she can cuddle with it when you’re not using it to entertain her.”

You smile and kiss her cheek affectionately before she holds it up to show off to your guests. Instead she has to stifle a chuckle. Dash lies sprawled across a now snoozing Twilight, the violet magician’s book splayed awkwardly across her face. Every now and then a snore creeps out from within the bundle of feathers and pages, and the two look for all the world like some retired pair of elderly mares who couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer and fell asleep where they sat.
You whisper that it looks like Twilight ended up muzzle deep in vagina after all tonight.

Rarity tilts her head, not sure what you’re getting at.
It’s the book. The subject. The subject is vagina. The book is on Twilight’s face.

Her face lights up as comprehension dawns on her, and Rarity has to stifle a laugh.
“Hehehe-ohhh ouch. My legs are killing me. I believe I feel like stretching my hooves... Shall we leave them to go for a stroll?”
You groan with the effort it takes to bring life to your limbs and sit up in reply, looking around for your shoes as she gathers her scarf, a hat, a warm saddle, and some nice boots. You help her cinch the saddle across her back and toss on a warm jacket yourself before stepping out into the cold Autumn night with her.

After a full day of working quietly in a chair, she’s a bundle of energy. She chats happily about any number of things, perhaps glad to see you relatively sober. As she prances alongside you in her boots you force back a shiver. The night’s gotten bitterly cold, and when the wind blows it bites through your jacket. You ask her if she’s alright.
“Heavens no. It’s simply dreadful and cold out, but that’s the price I pay for sitting inside during the sunny part of the day, you know?”

You sigh and look up. The clouds are growing darker, and the forecast for tonight looks rainy. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself and rub your chest and sides as she gushes.
“I’m more than a little disappointed Twilight’s not gone more strongly for the proposal, aren’t you?”
You nod and let her get it all out of her system.
“I mean, that pony enjoyed it last time. I know she did. She’s so worried over such silliness as jealousy, I... I wonder if she’s afraid of sharing Rainbow Dash?”

You shrug. Anything’s possible.
“Well come now, give me your opinions.”
You sigh. Opinions on her friends aren’t smart things to talk about, that’s just gossip. Maybe Twilight, like you, doesn’t know just how jealously she’ll react. Maybe she needs time to steel herself for it, because even if she enjoyed it, she might still be afraid of feeling jealous.
“That’s... that’s possible. OR, perhaps she’s just playing hard to get, or has a scar she’d not like to show off, or...”
Above you thunder rolls and booms and her ears flatten to her head. She immediately nuzzles up to you and plods on silently for a few minutes.
“Maybe she’s afraid of liking what she sees when she sees you?”

Impossible. Twilight’s a lesbian, through and through. She’s admitted it to Rarity a half a dozen times. She’s liked mares since she discovered sex, and then some. She’s never really had a physical attraction to colts, or anything they could offer. Even you know it.
“What of Dash, then? You don’t suppose she’s still not certain what Dash prefers, do you? Insecure, perhaps?”
You bite your lip here. Anything’s possible, but you privately hold your doubts. Dash went for drinks with you as nothing less than one of the guys. You think you can guess who wears the saddle in their relationship. Or at least you thought you could until Twilight mentioned being tied down. Maybe the role reversal pleases her? Above you the clouds flash and the entire street is briefly illuminated. You watch as lightning bursts across the skyline suddenly, and Rarity bolts. You feel her grab your jacket cuff with her mouth, and suddenly you’re being dragged away with all speed to the shelter of a nearby house.
“Stay close.”
She’s shivering. Not from the cold: there are no teeth chattering. No, she’s truly shivering, from the top of her stylish hat right down to her horseshoes. When the lightning flashes again the rain begins to pour with a vengeance and she huddles into your arms. For a pony who’s faced down manticores it seems unusual that she’d be so suddenly afraid of lightning. You recall that it’s not a fear she’s always had either, and she lets a strangled sob sneak into your chest.
“I-”
A loud inhale of breath.
“I want to go home. Right now. Please?”
You nod and look for a way to get her back there without getting too wet. The cold alone is miserable enough, but the water...
Another flash, and Rarity’s dragging you out into the rain with all speed. Like a compulsion she makes a beeline for the Boutique, ignorant of any flower beds, gardens, and vegetable patches you trample through to make the shortest route. By the time you reach the proper street you’re quaking with the cold. It’s down to your bones now, your clothes sticking to you like a frigid second skin. Autumn is fast approaching winter with a vengeance, and a hard wind kicks up and almost brings you both to your knees. You’re in sight of the Boutique when the lightning and thunder break the night once more. It’s too much for her and she finally drops to the ground, pulling you with her.
“Just let it pass. You’re too tall, you’ll be hit.”
You’re not too tall. Trees are too tall. Houses are too tall. You’re only a couple feet higher than she is.
“That’s a couple feet too much. Stoop when you walk, understand?”
You nod, wanting the foolish argument to be over. When you take to your feet again you crouch as you hustle forward to your doorway, which she unceremoniously flings open and pulls you stubbornly through before slamming the door shut and panting. Immediately she locks herself around you.
“Safe. Alright? You’re safe and I am and the baby is.”
You help lift her ruined mane out from her eyes and she shakes her body off, slinking out of her soaked saddle and boots. You remove her hat and your own jacket, but she doesn’t stop until every soaked scrap of clothing is off your body. Everything is chilly, even the act of being hurriedly stripped can’t pull a boner from the depths of your frozen misery. She appraises you before taking your hand gently in her teeth and pulling you over to the fire. It’s during the trip toward the ring of couches and chairs that you notice Dash and Twilight aren’t on their sofa anymore. It’s only a few more steps before you actually think to listen. The room is incredibly quiet, and as the space between the seating comes into view, you see them.
They’re a tangle of hooves, horn, and wings; frozen in place from the moment the two of you burst back in. For lack of anything better to do you break your staring by striding past them to the fire and throwing on another log. When you turn around, they’re looking up at your nude figure. You shrug and sit on edge of the fireplace, warming your back and chest. Rarity recovers her wits enough to speak.
“I- We didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Dash takes the initiative now.
“Rarity, we uhhh... Ok, let’s face it, you’ve caught us doing worse. Right?”
“Well, I was going to say I’ve caught you doing the same thing once before.”
“Well, it just seemed so cool. Neither of us have a fireplace, ya know?”
“I can imagine ... it’s ok. Honestly, you two needn’t have stopped. We’re ... not here to judge you.”
“But...”
“No, not if you won’t judge us. But I’ve just come in from a thunderstorm, and I want my husband’s body against mine for a bit. I hope that doesn’t ... make either of you uncomfortable.”
Dash and Twilight look over with interest at you, and Rarity walks back into their field of vision before snuggling up to you. Her coat’s wet and needs to dry, so you vacate the warm spot you were saving and content yourself with one a bit further away. You stretch your hand out and she kisses it.
“So you two got caught in my thunderstorm, eh? What’d you think?”
“I thought it was dreadful. So sorry, Rainbow Dash. I’m just ... I don’t quite care for them as I once did.”
“Pshyeah. I don’t know if you ever really liked ‘em, but it’s always worth a shot. That one’s stacked five clouds deep y’know.”
You yawn. If everypony’s actually going to unironically talk about the weather while the overarching promise of sex lingers only a single drunken mistake away, you’re going to need coffee. But when you rise, Rarity gets a hoof around your leg and pulls you back in.
“Where are you going?”
Coffee.
“Not yet. I’ve...”
She looks over at the other two ponies and sighs.
“I’ve something I must tend to, as a wife.”
And with that she clamps her mouth down on your shrunken member. It’s strange to move from damp cold to hot breath, the warmth of her tongue rolling it around the roof of her mouth. You know she loves this part, when it’s not quite hard and the whole thing can fit in her mouth without need of going down her throat. You’ve kept it limp through sheer willpower on a couple of occasions, but you haven’t the mind for it tonight. You can feel it stretching, hardening, lengthening. With nowhere to go it literally expands in her mouth and down her throat. She gulps to take it as long as she can, breathing heavily out her nose to suppress her gag reflex. At last she slides it out, the slick, hard shaft glistening in the firelight. She eyes it hungrily now, hooves gently rubbing at it.
“Must keep this part warm. The rest of you will be fine I suspect, but this part just seemed so miserable.”
You chance a glance over at Twilight and Dash. Both are gawking, perhaps impressed with how she managed the full length and girth. Perhaps it seemed quite the magic trick, watching it enter in one degree of size and exit another. You’re fairly sure they’re not interested in your penis however. What they’re interested in is ...
You look back, and there it is. She’s done the entire trick on her side, one leg hiked up, privates shining and wet on display. The firelight reveals that her lower lips have become swollen and ready, you can only guess at how sensitive they must be. And just above the folds, both her teats. These too are swollen, a bright pink shining nearly naked, barely covered through her coat. Her whole ivory body shimmers with the sheen of the Autumn night’s dampness. You suspect she could stand to be milked again, and you gently cup one mammary in your hand. Her eyes roll back and she bites her lip.
“I know I said ... Twilight, I’m sorry.”
Twilight shifts a bit.
“Well... I... It’s technically tomorrow, you know.”
You look at the clock. Half past midnight.
“And we did talk about it after you’d gone... We thought you’d gone upstairs to bed. So I guess... I guess we’ll try, if Rainbow wants.”
Dash grins.
“You mean we get to play with those? So. Freaking. Great!”
And she zips over to your wife with all speed to fondle her spare breast. You decide to switch tactics and rub her tummy, and Rarity almost melts as Twilight reaches her and takes the spare tit in her hooves, squeezing it gently and gasping as milk spurts out onto her violet coat.
“Nnnhhh ... so many ponies.”

Rarity squeaks the words between massages. Beneath your hand her tummy growls. You gulp and rise, heading to the kitchen to get her a snack and hoping she’ll not be too self conscious to be stuffed. As you go, Twilight gives you a hurried glance. You nod and smile to assure her that you’re alright and step into the kitchen.

Once there you pick up everything you can carry. The marshmallows, the chocolate chips, both pans of the leftover potatoes, some left over stirfry from last night, some cheese ravioli from the night before that. You also bring two bowls for her milking.

The sight that you emerge from the kitchen to is everything you left, escalated. Both ponies suckle at Rarity’s teats, obviously uncaring of the flavor. They’re spooned parallel to one another, Dash’s hoof is rubbing between Twilight’s legs as she grinds her privates on the scholar’s back leg. Rarity moans, back arching, back legs flexing. When she spots you her eyes widen and she motions you hastily over to her. You drop your pile of plates and lean down to her.

“Y-your hands...”

She needs to eat her food first. You rub at her ears until she waves Twilight and Dash away, finally managing to sit up. You hand her the bag of marshmallows and she looks at them for a moment before shaking her head.

“In front of ... in front of everypony? You don’t- you can’t make me...”

You scoop up a handful and hold them up to her mouth and she eats them, eyes glued to a spot on the floor. You gently rub at her tummy while Twilight and Dash set about milking her. Their sudden grip on her swollen mammaries snaps her attention back to them. She swallows a mouthful of chocolate chips with difficulty.

“D-don’t look ... please, don’t look.”

Twilight scoops up a hoof-ful of marshmallows and holds them up to Rarity’s mouth. The ivory pony’s resolve breaks down as she accepts the offering without making eye contact. Dash starts to rub at your wife’s tummy, one of her hooves creeping between her legs. Before long their generous attentions have her eating from their hooves, and she polishes off the ravioli hastily.

Around the time she finishes with the leftover potatoes, Rarity hooks a slightly cheesy hoof over your member and looks up at you.

“I’ll eat it all... I promise. Don’t ... don’t keep me waiting, hmmmm?”

You help her onto her hooves and she gratefully digs into the plate as you sink your hand into her immense haunches, inviting Twilight to do the same. The purple pony gently extends a hoof, rubbing the immense and plush backside before suddenly giving it a rough squeeze with both hooves.

“Oh ... oh my gosh. Rainbow, come feel this.”

Rarity starts to squirm under your combined attentions. Dash however is on her back at this point, both hooves rubbing her own slit in slow circles.

“T-twiliiight.”

And with that Twilight slinks over to her partner, burying her face between Dash’s legs. The sound of her licking fills the room and before long Dash is kicking and bucking and rolling about the floor. Rarity wiggles her bottom to bring you back to attention and you slip into her womanhood. Sound stops behind you as Twilight and Dash stare. You slap Rarity’s rump hard, sending waves through her body. This is what she wants, right?

“Nnnyeesss. Everypony look at me.”

Dash and Twilight hold a whispered conversation as you’re forced onto your back by Rarity. She straddles your slickened cock and slides down it just as Dash and Twilight approach. Dash’s hooves begin to work their way up and down your boner any time Rarity slides off it, and as she does Twilight begins to lick at her bared womanhood. Both helping ponies have their hooves all over one another, and it’s not long before everyone involved is covered in equal parts milk, precum, and personal lubricant. Your slickened skin shines in the firelight alongside their damp and patched coats. At several points you feel yourself ready to cum, but at the last moment Twilight jerks Rarity off her perch and Dash clenches her hooves around your thickness and denies you any form of release. Each time you scream, and each time the ponies involved have to restrain you and Rarity from meeting long enough to complete the deed. After a couple of times the fighting becomes physical, you actually pick Dash up and head lock her, straddling Rarity before being bucked off by Twilight and lifted into the air by Dash’s prodigious wing strength. Every pony involved is soon a tangle of hooves and horns and wings, and the lot of you are flopping about with little regard to your surroundings. Chairs and coffee tables are sent sprawling, resulting in knees and elbows sure to bruise by morning. At one point you’re finally flung to the ground and pinned by Rainbow Dash, Twilight, and Rarity collectively.

At last you feel the orgasm welling up and push Rarity roughly onto her back, kicking and bucking every pony off of you long enough to slam into her furiously. Dash and Twilight lie on the ground panting and defeated, watching the heavy unicorn get plowed while they work their hooves over one another violently.Their collective moans fade to white noise in your ears as you finally blow your load inside Rarity, pulling out and shooting shot after shot over her body. She rolls onto her hooves and latches her mouth around you, gulping and moaning as she finally gets the treat she wanted. Then, face coated and mane mussed, she flops onto her side with ragged gasps for air, chest heaving. Behind you sound fades back in and you turn to spot Twilight and Dash, legs locked around each other, grinding their soaking slits against each other, hooves clawing at the carpet, Dash’s wings beating furiously. Twilight finishes first and goes limp as Dash mounts one of her legs and humps furiously at it, eyes rolling back until at last she’s satisfied and flops onto her side next to her partner.

The giggling starts with Rarity, then moves quickly throughout the room.

“That ... was amazing.”

Twilight nods and grips her partner by the haunches, squeezing their firm and toned surface. Under her hooves Dash squirms and groans between exhausted chuckles. And then-

“S-so Twilight ... do you think you could help with...”

You feel Rarity lift up one of your hands before dropping it.

“I... Alright, well, let’s see. You’re going to want to get on your hooves I think, and let him approach from behind.”

You help Rarity rise and Twilight scrunches up her face. There’s a popping noise and a bottle of lubricant materializes beside you.

“Alright, now you’ll want to get your hands good and slick.”

You turn to look at her as she directs you, Dash slung over one of her shoulders and watching intently.

“Just do one at first. I want to see and make sure that it’s not too much stretching already.”

You tuck your thumb in and gently slide in up to the knuckles, waiting for her to relax enough to go up to your wrist. Once you’re inside, you bunch your fist inside her and you watch as her knees start to shake. You ask her if she’s alright.

“Mmm... Yes. I think so... Very ... very tired after earlier. Need a little help.”

In a blur of sky blue Rainbow Dash is beside her, helping to prop her head up as her front legs threaten to give.

“Alright, now wait for a minute and you should feel things relax inside. That means it’s ... probably ok to move around a bit in there. You’re going to want to roll your hand around and see what kind of room you’re working with. You shouldn’t need a lot more, but there needs to be at least a little give.”

There’s exactly the space Twilight is describing. The inner walls are soft, cushy, warm, and wet. They give ever so slightly as you manage to fold and unfold your hand repeatedly. You tell Twilight it feels alright, and she nods.

“Alright, now be careful here. We don’t want to introduce too much air into her, so we need to go slowly. If air enters the blood stream through there - too much air mind you, it can ... well ... it’ll kill her, alright? Be careful.”

You bite your lip, the warning is a bit potent. You ask Rarity if it’s really worth that risk.

“It’s ... it’s not that bad ... what’s the risk like?”

“Well ... it doesn’t happen often, but ponies don’t often get hands put in there. I mean, ponies never get hands put in there, but ... Just make sure you clench them together tight. Alright?”

You nod. Following her instructions, you hold both hands up as if in prayer, gently easing them into the alabaster unicorn’s soaking wet love tunnel. Twilight approaches as you slowly slip in, squirting lubricant here and there, and rubbing gently to keep Rarity stimulated. Around the time you reach your knuckles you meet a good deal of resistance. In this position you can’t tuck your thumbs, and the required entry is...

“It’s too big, Rarity.”

Twilight cuts in on your behalf.

“Nnnhhh... No... Nooooo. Put them in?”

You roll your eyes and wish you could tell Twilight how stubborn she is about this.

“Rarity, it’s just ... it won’t feel good.”

“Already ... already feels amazing. Just a bit more, please?”

“It’s his thumbs, Rarity. They’re not going to-”

She’s interrupted as Rarity bucks forward. Instinctively you tuck your thumbs slightly and suddenly you’re up to the backs of your thumbs inside her. You can feel her struggle as Dash gets a grip on her, can feel her shake and try to roll as she moans.

“Nnnnh. Yeeeees. Bit more. Just a bit more?”

You look to Twilight for help, but the purple pony has dropped to her haunches, eyebrows raised.

“There’s no blood ... no signs of tearing ... I think she might be able to take it all! You should... I mean ... in the interest of science, we can’t turn back now, right?”

You sigh as you watch a hoof drop between Twilight’s legs and her eyes slowly lid.

“Just need to go a little further. You can do it dude!”

You look at Rainbow Dash as she too drops one hoof to toy with herself, both ponies suddenly infatuated with the idea of being so filled up.

“I... Hey Twi, you think those would fit in-”

“NO.”

Everyone’s eyes are drawn to Rarity following her sudden outburst. When her voice finds its way out it’s strange, hyper possessive, angry.

“They’re mine. You ... you can’t have them! Keep away from him! MINE. MIIINE.”

And just like that, she loosens. You can feel it happen around you, and you bite your lip and slip yourself the rest of the way in. Now that you’re up to your wrists you let your fingers slide into an interlocked double fist. Rarity’s words are stopped with the suddenness and she bites her lip and drops to the floor, taking you with her. Dash jerks up and holds her aloft, protecting her from landing on her tummy as the pony wrestles around in her armlock.

Inside her with no safe way to draw yourself back out, you’re brought along for the ride wherever her half-airborne body rolls. When she reaches her back, Twilight bounds up and straps materialize out of the air, pinning Rarity to the floor.

“Do it. Quickly, do her good!”

Dash releases her hold and you experimentally roll your locked hands around inside your wife. Rarity pulls and strains against the straps that hold her legs, but all that comes out of her mouth is a low moan. Her eyes have glazed, her breathing is rapid, her tongue lolls out of her gaping mouth. Twilight and Dash begin to tend to her also, and the moment their lips meet her breasts Rarity finds her voice.

“Nnnhhaa. It’s... It’s so... So... Ohhh... More. Mooore. Put it in. Please put it in?”

You steal a glance at Twilight and she shrugs.

“I can ... you can use the other one. The other hole. Please, put it in?”

You sigh. You knew this would happen. It’s not going to be enough, it’s never going to be enough. She goes crazy when she gets like this. But to your surprise, Dash lifts Rarity’s back end up and moves her tail aside as Twilight starts to squirt some lubrication onto her hoof.

The work is slow going, but soon Twilight’s got you slickened up. She shrugs as a moan escapes your lips at her soft touch.

“It’s not... I don’t... Be careful here, alright? She’s pretty out of it.”

You nod and slip just the head in, and suddenly Rarity begins to thrash.

“Yes. Yeess. That’s it. Not much further now!”

You plunge your manhood in and she screams, a ragged throaty scream of pain and animal lust the likes of which you’ve never heard. Lips that normally speak so gently spew a string of curses that would make a sailor pony blush. Soon you’re thrusting and twisting and pulling in ways you never imagined you would be, and the dull ache at the back of your member warns you that you’re dangerously close to climax already. At her breasts Twilight and Dash work hard with their hooves, flicking and playing with her nipples as they rub their own mare parts vigorously. You feel orgasm crash over you and hot liquid fills your wife’s ass. Not wanting to lose a single drop, you bury yourself balls-deep with one last loud slapping thrust. She screams once more and goes silent, eyes rolled back into her head, any continued thrusts only eliciting a small groan of protest.
At last you flop out of her and carefully unclasp your hands, drawing them out of her and pulling her close to you. At your side, Twilight and Dash are about to cum again, and you’re suddenly assaulted by wetness as Dash’s rocking orgasm sprays liquid across the floor and onto all of you. She grows still as well, and consciousness starts to fade out as you check Rarity’s breathing and pull her into your chest. Fatigue grips you for a second time today and you bury your head in the softness of her side. At your back Dash and Twilight cuddle up, tails intertwining, hooves hooking, lips seeking each other. Darkness creeps into your vision, and you know no more.

The room is dark and the fire has died when you snap awake. You’re not sure what caused it, memory hazy, but you can guess. It’s the same nightmares that have been plaguing you for the last week, whether you remember them or not. They’ve changed in nature each time you’ve discussed them. You try in vain to stretch your memory to one, but only grasp an image, however brief, of what you know to be your foal. She stands in your room, covered in blood. She keeps mouthing something about “The Bad Pony”. She’s crying. You bite your lip, wishing you could remember more. Was it a warning? A premonition? Or just a bad dream?
Beside you, Rarity stirs. She’s obviously become alert to your consciousness, as her hooves kick and play at your feet.
“C’mere, darling. Something the matter?”
You lean down into her. It’s nothing, just another nightmare. She nods.
“S’ok. You shouldn’t be so scared. Let’s go upstairs to bed and talk about it, hmmm?”
You look around for Dash and Twilight. They’re nowhere to be seen.
“They retired to the guest bedroom an hour ago. You’ve not been out that long. Come on, help me to my hooves, hmm?”
Slowly, memories of several hours ago flicker lights back on in the dim warehouse of your still turning mind. As you help her to her hooves you ask her if it was everything she wanted.
“Mmm. Yes. Well, I suppose so. I’m afraid to admit I’ve not got much memory after you got inside my- well ... you know.”
You do know. You know all too well. You were scared for her, too. You tried to tell her how she gets.
“Mmm, but it was so good.”
You climb the stairs together, talking in hushed whispers. There’s a bump at your hand from behind as you reach the stairs and she looks up. Suddenly she embraces you.
“Thank you. Thank you so much, for tonight. Were you terribly upset when Dash and Twilight got involved?”
You tell her you weren’t too upset, that it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, at any rate. She nods. As you crest the stairs she stops you.
“Nnnmmm... My... I’m sore.”
Is it bad? Did she hurt herself?
“No ... but I’ve been hoping you’d wake up. I ahh... I don’t particularly want to walk anywhere now, but...”
You eye her with one eyebrow raised. Walk somewhere? At this hour? Can’t it wait until morning?
“Yes... Well, no. No, I need it now.”
What is it that she could possibly need at this hour of the night?
“A ... a veggie burger?”
You groan. Cravings might be a large part of your fetish, but your legs are sore from wrestling Rainbow Dash and every minute awake brings new pain to your forehead, the start of what could be a terrible and powerful hangover if you’re not careful.
“I know you don’t want to, but you ... if you don’t go, then I shall.”
You sigh, defeated. You’re not going to send your pregnant wife out, alone, into a rainstorm. You’ll go get her burger, she should curl up. She smiles.
“Do hurry. And some hayfries, too? And tell them not to forget the mayonnaise. Or the onions. Please?”
You nod as you accompany her into your bedroom, trying not to eyeball the space your bed occupies, where its promise of a good night’s sleep whispers softly to you from out of the dark. Instead you throw on some dry jeans, a t-shirt, an overshirt, and a warmer jacket, stopping only to look about for your extra pair of shoes. She almost clotheslines you with them as you turn around, suddenly on top of you and practically under your legs.
“And a milkshake. Can you get one of those, too? Half strawberry, half vanilla?”
You nod.
“And some cherries, if they have them. On the milkshake, not the burger. That would just be strange.”
You tilt your head. Is she feeling alright? This is going to take forever at this rate.
“It’s... It’s alright, isn’t it? I know it’s been a while since I bothered you with it, but... I’d do it myself if I could.”
You shrug. It’s alright with you, you just want to be sure she’s feeling ok. It’s been quite some time indeed since she roused you from bed this late with such an order- not since the beginning of her pregnancy, when the cravings first began with all their fierceness.
“You’ll be careful... Out in the rain won’t you? Don’t get hurt.”
You nod, shoes finally on.
“And can you get pickles and extra mustard on the burger?”
You nod.
“And lettuce, lots of lettuce?”
Lettuce, on a veggie burger, alright.
“Do you think they’ve got cookies?”
You shush her with a finger to her lips. You’ll bring her order back, but she has to let you leave at some point.
“Yes ... yes of course. Oh do hurry back, won’t you?”
You nod, and step out of the room and into the hallway, creeping past Twilight and Dash’s room and down the stairs. Once you hit the streets, you let your mind wander immediately. Back to your dream. The rain soon has you damp from head to toe, and you shiver in spite of yourself at the fading effects of your most recent nightmare.
The bad pony? Something was there perhaps, behind your daughter. It was ... was it a pony? Was someone taking her? You struggle with your memory until-
Something grabs the back of your jacket. Instinctively you wheel about, hands up and ready to fight. In the dim of the street lamps, a rainbow mane and sky blue coat glimmer softly.
“Woah! Woooah! Dude, it’s like ... three in the morning. What the hay are you doing?”

You let your arms relax and look over her before telling her where you’re headed.
“Really? But didn’t she just - I mean... Gah, that’s so weird. Can I come with?”
You nod.
“Pregnancy is weird, huh?”
You can’t help but laugh as you start to walk together. Hasn’t she ever thought about kids before?

“Well I mean... It’s not like we don’t want them, but it’s more like we ... can’t, y’know? And... I’m not really sure we’re that serious.”
So now it’s come to it. Together you round the corner into a more populous street, pulling
your jacket closer around you and sneaking a glance out of the hood at her. At last you break the question to her.
Just how serious about Twilight is she?
“Well I... Oh, horseapples. She can’t be serious about a goofball like me, but I really do. Like her, I mean. I mean, I really really do like her. I like her so much, I’ve liked her since we met, and... And I just turn into a big dummy around her, y’know?”
You do know. It’s much the same between you and Rarity. Love has a way of making you stupid about someone.
“Love huh? Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
There’s a sniffle and you look away politely.
“Awww man. Something- something here. In the air. Grass seed probably.”
You don’t bother reminding her that it’s autumn.
“But I really... I don’t know, man. I love her... I’m just so... I don’t wanna screw it all up. I hate screwing stuff up. It’s worse than competitions, it’s worse than anything I’ve ever done. She’s such a big deal to me.”
You nod, making sure to look anywhere but her face as she continues her admission.
“I. Love. Twilight Sparkle. It just feels so weird to say it. I don’t know if she’d get scared of it. I’m kinda- I mean. I’m not really scared of it. But it would totally suck after chasing her for a freakin’ decade just to lose her now by being a total cling, yeah?”

A decade? Really that long?
“Yeah. Yeah, didn’t I tell you at the bar? I’ve been chasing this pony for forever.”
You smile and let your hand travel to her hair, messing it slightly.
“Aaaw dude. In the freaking rain? Reaaally?”
Really, really. You look up at the sky, ignoring the rain and clear your throat. Does she really want to know how Twilight feels about her?
“Huh? Do you really know?”
You bite your lip. Would Twilight want you to say something? What if you screw it up for them? You sigh.
“Dude, do you know? Did she tell you not to tell me?”
No, it’s not that.
“Oh... oh no. Does she really not-”
No. Twilight loves her. You quickly tell her about what Twilight said while she and Rarity were playing gossips.
“She said all that ... about me? You sure? You’re not just pullin’ my wings are you?”
You look down, and Dash’s lip is trembling. Immediately you look anywhere but at her.
“I ... wow. I’ve never had anypony really... I mean. Who’d have ever... Wow. So she really likes me?”
Yes. Twilight seems to love her, truly and surely. But she’s afraid to bring it up because she doesn’t want to mess things up either. Sound familiar?

“Haha. Oh my gosh...”
There’s a sudden hug at your side.
“Thanks ... really. I won’t... I won’t screw this up. I promise I won’t.”
You open the door for her as you reach the burger joint, stepping out of the rain and into the little shop.
If she doesn’t want to screw it up, perhaps she should start talking to Twilight about how they feel more often. Communication is like, essential ... and stuff.
“Gah. Damnit. Never thought a guy would be giving me the communication talk. But I guess you’re not the average colt ... You gonna order, by the way?”

You snap to attention, looking over at the patiently waiting stallion behind the counter. You submit the order, plus one burger with twice the condiments on it.
“You like all that junk on your veggies?”
No, Rarity does.
“But I thought you said she only wanted the one...”
She does. Right now. But you know she’ll want a second one after, and she’ll want it to be twice as messy.
“How d’you know her so well?”
Well, it’s a guess. You’ve made this run a couple of times. But really, it’s just playing it safe. If you play it safe and she does want it, you’re suddenly a perfect romantic. If she doesn’t want it, you just claim it was for you all along. But you’re fairly sure that she will.
“Hah. Think I should try to order something for Twilight?”
Sure, if she wants to.
“Hmm... I don’t have any bits on me but-”
You’ll pay, this time. Consider it thanks for being so nice about earlier tonight.
“Nice huh? You thought all that denial was nice?”
It can be nice. She should see some of the denial games you and Rarity play.
“Naw, you should see the harsh games Twilight and I play. Awww man. It’s pretty uhhh-”
She looks up at the serving colt, who’s tapping his hoof impatiently.
“Oh ponyfeathers. I’m so bad at this stuff. I can never remember... Uhhhh. Twilight’s not really big on this kinda stuff, but when she does go, she likes... Can I get the blueberry icey, a basket of hayfries to share, and a small veggie burger, light ketchup, extra cheese?”

You grin. That’s awfully specific for a pony who’s bad at this kind of stuff.
“Alright, alright. I’ve known her favorites for ... a really long time. But admitting it’s kinda weird.”
You sit down at a table and wait for them to call out your number, and Dash shifts nervously.
“Pockets sure are handy. I kinda wish ponies had pockets.”
Saddlebags are pretty nice.
“Shyeah. When you know you’re going someplace. I just kinda ... walked out, tonight.”
Not a fight, was it?

“No, no. Twilight’s asleep. Pretty easy to sneak out for a fly when you’ve got wings. You know how it is though. Always something on my mind this time of night ... and it’s nice to come back and have the bed all warmed up and stuff. I kinda worry she’ll get sick of me showing up on her doorstep, but she just lets me in the window and climbs back in ready for the cuddles. S’how we got together the first time.”
Oh yeah?
“Yeah. Gonna have to tell you that story sometime, it’s a weird one. Never thought it was gonna come true. I figured I’d just ... like her, forever. Never thought I’d actually say something.”
You laugh. You were much more proactive with Rarity.
“Well yeah, she likes that kinda stuff though. Twi’s a lot more awkward when she’s out of her element, and relationship stuff, being around other ponies, doing big social gatherings ... none of that’s really our stuff.”
It’s a bit unusual to hear that it isn’t. Aren’t they both incredible talents? Twilight’s the best magician in Equestria short of the princesses, isn’t she?
Dash looks up as you’re handed water glasses and the colt apologizes. The food will take a bit longer, there’s a good deal to make. You nod and let him walk off as Dash continues in between sips.
“Man, I dunno. Sometimes I think she could do the things the princesses can do, but ... she’s afraid. She’s scared of herself. Has bad dreams about it. Doesn’t want to be successful, either. Thinks everypony will just be jealous. Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve woken up to her getting super cuddly on me... I can tell she’s scared, having bad dreams or just up late studying and got to thinking too much about it. I try to tell her not to be nervous but I mean... how can I? Me, the big wonderbolts flier, giving up on all that to become a weathermare? I dunno man.”
You shrug. You’re well aware of why she officially passed on her dream. Ponyville’s always needed her protection and care. But now you think you can guess at the real reason.
It was Twilight, wasn’t it?
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I just can’t... I gotta be around her. I can’t even say what it is. But it feels weird to-”
Two bags drop gently on the table. You hand the colt the required bits and he smiles as you pick them both up. Dash spreads her wings and flutters alongside you as you step back outside.
Did she want to finish her thought?
“Nah. Wasn’t that important. Thanks for tonight, dude. Seriously. I never talk about this junk. It’s super weird to have a friend who I talk to about this kinda stuff.”
She can talk to you any time. It’s nice to have someone you can talk to also. Some things even Rarity doesn’t seem like the right pony for the job.
“Y’mean like ... how obsessed she is over those paws of yours?”
You laugh. Yes, that’s one thing. You’re always worried she’ll hurt herself. You’re still not sure she hasn’t. But you had to leave her with Twilight or she’d never bring it up.
“Hah. You, worried? You got anything else on your mind?”

You nod, trying awkwardly to get your hood back up with both hands full. At your back you feel her hooves slip it over your head, and then a hug press against your back. All thoughts are driven from your head. You’re years younger. You’re sitting in the grass, and Rarity presses herself against your back. Is now the time to ask her? Will she say yes?
“Hello? Dude? Anyone home?”

You snap back to reality. Dash grins at you, flapping alongside you.
“Don’t space on me like that. I said, thanks for being a cool friend. You’re pretty neat. For a guy, I mean.”
You return her smile and hold up the bag of food.
Did she ever expect a guy to buy her food?
“Hah. Nope. A dude, buying me food? Nah, this doesn’t even count. This is Twi’s food.”
So she doesn’t mind that you’re buying for her girlfriend?
“Well I mean ... after tonight, that’s not really weird.”
You laugh. Why is it so strange that buying her partner food feels more awkward than-
“Yeah. Yeah, I know, right? Man, this is just all too weird for me. A year ago I’d never have expected it.”

You laugh.
“Hey.”
Hey? Hey is for horses.
She rolls her eyes.
“Oh boy. No one’s ever made that joke before. Really, you’re totally the first.”
You laugh.
“But seriously. Do you think a mare like me, and a girl like Twilight... do you think we could ever be... y’know?”
Married?
“Well, yeah.”
You can’t hide your grin. Yes, yes they could. And you’d be incredibly happy for both of them.
“D’you think she’d go for it?”
Maybe. Dash should just ask her.
“But ... can you do that? Aren’t you supposed to like, surprise them and stuff?”
Sometimes, but her situation is special. You and Rarity had talked about it before you popped the question. A long time, several months before in fact.
“Really? Maybe I should... I mean. Oh yeah! Yeah, I think I’m gonna do it. You gotta help me dude, can you help me come up with a ring and stuff if there’s like... I mean, you make that stuff, right?”
You tell her you’d be honored.
“Well, I gotta see how she feels. And... Oh man, I never thought all this would be so real. D’you think she’ll say yes? D’you think she’d go for it?”
One step at a time. Talk to her about it first.
“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Thanks man!”
You smile as you reach the doorstep of the Boutique.
She’ll do great. You know she will.
“Yeah... I’ll just talk to her. Try not to get too excited, you know?”
She opens the door and Twilight’s standing there.
“Too excited about what?”

Chapter 12

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-Part 12: Pregnant Rarity, Fingering, Light Foursome, Lactation / Breast Feeding, Hand Play, Food play and Stuffing, Oral Sex, Heavy Romance / Plot Progression, Light Exhibitionism

=====================================================================

When you hurry into your bedroom Rarity’s reading a book, glasses on. She glances up at you as you walk in and set the bag on the bed next to her. You hand her off the milkshake as you move back to the door to your room and close it as quickly as possible. Just past the doorway you can hear Twilight’s voice, raised. The words are incomprehensible, and you’re curious, but Rarity doesn’t need to get involved. When you turn around she’s already gotten out of bed, surprisingly quickly and quietly, and is creeping over to you.
“Are they... are they fighting down there?”
What gave her that idea?
“Twilight came in not so long ago asking where Dash was, and she seemed rather upset. And now you’re closing the door. I can put the two together.”
You swallow. You were afraid Dash might be in trouble. Did Twilight say what was on her mind?
“No... But intuition tells me Dash going missing was the heart of it.”
You sigh. When has her intuition ever been right about Twilight and Dash? Their relationship is just different from what you’re used to. It’s not anyone’s fault you can’t understand where they’re coming from.
“That’s the talk of someone who just did something wrong. And my intuition is always right, so you’d best tell me what you’ve done.”

You bite your lip. She’s not always right, but you don’t bother correcting her and motion to the bag on the bed. She should eat her food, you’ve gone a long way in the rain to get it.
“Oh dear me, you did, you’re right. So why don’t you tell me what you’ve done while I eat my snack then?”
You haven’t done anything.

“Of course, of course. It’s just that you look nervous.”
You realize you’ve been glancing at the door and snap your eyes back to her. Nervous? No, just tired.
“I can believe that. Why don’t you come over here? Curl up next to me while I eat this delicious food you’ve brought me. You can rub my tummy and explain what it is you’ve done.”
You haven’t done anything.
“Oh... Yes, I keep forgetting. It’s just-”
There’s a slam of a door from downstairs, and you resist the urge to run to the window to see who’s leaving the boutique.

“It’s not Dash. Hear the hoofbeats? Dash would be flying.”
You disagree and move over to the window. Sure enough, Dash is running off into the rainy night and out of sight into the darker streets of ponyville. You sigh and turn around to exit the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
You need to go tell Twilight that...
“That you’ve done something?”
You wheel around on her and she moves in just as you raise up to shout at her.
You haven’t done anything.
She doesn’t budge an inch backward as you round on her; but her eyebrows lower, her ears perk up, and she steps closer. You move a step back, surprised at her boldness.
“Of course you haven’t. But you feel angry enough to shout at me, and you need to go explain the situation to Twilight. So you can at least explain it to me first.”
You sigh and lean against the wall, arms folded.
“Don’t take that posture with me.”
You hold your hands out at your sides incredulously. It’s a crime to stand now?
“You know what I mean. That closed off stance. You’ve nothing to be afraid of here, so come sit down. I’ve got a burger to eat you know.”
With a roll of your eyes you flop onto your bed, ready to redirect the conversation.
Why does she have to be so involved, so nosey, so constantly putting herself into trouble? She’s so notoriously hard to protect. She hurt herself being too generous with her body earlier. You can’t keep protecting her from herself.
“Is that what I asked about?”
No, but it’s all true.
Beside you, she snorts and sets her burger down on her nightstand still in its wrapper.
“For your information, anything vital is perfectly fine. It’s the other... spot... that’s sore, and tender. You didn’t bother to stretch, didn’t bother to do anything but lube it up and shove it in. Was that protecting?”
Stretch her with what? She took both of your hands.
“I don’t know... you had two other ponies with you. They’re capable mares.”
Twilight and Dash? You don’t want them widening your wife’s ass.
“You’re so jealous and protective of me that you’d hurt me? Does that make sense?”
How. How in Equestria is her hurt rear your fault? She’s the one who demanded excess, let the moment get the best of her, demanded the maximum you could give, all at once.
“I’m not saying it’s not my fault. I’m saying it’s yours too.”
You snort. That’s just not true.
When you turn back she’s completely in your vision. Once more she’s deceptively quiet for a pony of her bulk, and she glares into your eyes. The glare softens and her ears raise as she nuzzles your face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, alright? Getting hurt was... was largely my fault.”
You nod and force the tension in your throat to dissipate by clearing it. It was partly your fault too. You’re sorry she got hurt, you promised to look out for her, you knew the risks.
“There. That’s settled then, right? Do you really think I’m impossible to look after? I don’t always need looking after you know.”
You nod, limbs growing suddenly tired as the last of the tension escapes you.
“Now then.”
She picks up her veggie burger and takes several enormous bites in silence before finally setting it aside with a moan and rubbing her tummy. You return eye contact to where she’s rubbing and rest a hand on it. Is she alright?
“I’m fine... it’s just... it’s so good.”
You nod and grin. She should keep going. You got her a second one.
“I saw that. You think I’ll eat it?”
You had considered it. You knew she’d want it.
“My perfect romantic man. Knows me so well. I’m sure you hedged your bets, of course. Could you eat it if I didn’t?”
You look away. Probably, but she should eat it. She has a growing foal in her.
“Yes... yes I do. But I’m not worried about the foal growing right now.”
You look up from her stomach to where she’s playing with her hair.
“I’ve been thinking you’ve been far too capable when it comes to lifting me. Perhaps it’s time I picked up the pace. I’ll lose a lot of this weight any time, you know.”
You tilt your head, waiting to hear what comes next.
“I mean... maybe next time two might not be enough. Just keep that in mind.”
You laugh and kiss her cheek.
“Now then, let’s finish this one up while you tell me what you’ve done.”
You haven’t-
You roll your eyes, defeated. She’s not going to let you sleep without knowing is she?
“No. No I don’t think I shall. You can have two options. Tell me, and snuggle up to this.”
She smacks her side, sending ripples throughout her flanks, down to her haunches sunken oh-so-deep in the bed, up and across her belly.
“Don’t tell me, and you can find out if the couch cushions are as comfortable”
You laugh. Would she really be that cliche?
“No... No, I rather think I would let you cuddle either way. But only one route is going to let me sleep easily, and that’s the honest truth.”
You nod and curl up next to her, gently rubbing in circles around the apex of her stomach as your story unfolds. At various points she slips in the appropriate “Hmm” or “Ah”, but she remains largely silent until the story of your walk with Rainbow Dash concludes on your rainy doorstep, confronted by Twilight and being told to leave them to their talk. When you’re finished she continues to chew, getting halfway through her second burger, eyebrows knitted. At last she sets it aside, drinks deeply from her milkshake, and clears her throat.
“Well... I’m quite shocked. You’ve left no details out?”
No, none. You admit to being surprised that Dash and Twilight are both so serious about each other also.
“Oh no, I rather knew that. They’re crazy about one another, but they need to talk more. Tonight’s a good example, isn’t it? But no, I was thinking more about you. You, of all the creatures under the sun, moon, and stars to council a pony into marriage. You, of anyone, listening as someone opens up and helping them figure out what they already knew.”
Already knew? So she doesn’t think you screwed up?
“Dash didn’t just invent the idea of marrying Twilight Sparkle tonight. She’d not talk to you about something so serious right away if she hadn’t thought heavily of it. Honestly, it’s a miracle you know enough about the mentality of mares to have gotten married yourself.”
You got lucky. You just married someone with low standards.
You earn a swat of her tail in your face and a “hmph”.

“Honestly though, consider for a moment. Would you have brought up the idea of marrying me to anypony when you very first considered it?”
You did. You brought it up to her.
“There, that’s my- wait, what? That was the very first time you’d ever considered it? When you asked me what my thoughts were on getting married?”
You nod.
“I... oh forget it. The point is, Dash has more brains than you I suppose... and that’s a discouraging thought. She’s more careful too... Hmm... What does that say about-”
Enough playing about. Did you screw up or not?
She giggles and regards you out of the corner of her eye as she picks up her burger.
“Well, finish my thought for me while I eat this. Let’s see if you’re half the detective I am.”
If Dash hadn’t just thought of it tonight, then she was bouncing it off of you to see what others thought of a plan she already had?
Rarity nods sagely, caught in the middle of a huge bite. Her spare hoof makes circular motions that you assume prompt you to continue.
If Dash has been considering marriage, you also brought up the need to communicate more... and if she’s smart, she found out the hard way tonight that she needs to communicate more.
Rarity gulps to swallow.
“By the Princesses, he can be taught! Goodness darling, you haven’t harmed Dash and Twilight tonight. By sheer coincidence you’ve likely helped them.”
Right. Fine. If Rarity’s so smart, does she think Twilight and Dash will survive this?
“I’m not sure... I didn’t hear any of what went on down there. Dash must have been rather crushed to be running rather than flying. I don’t think there are words for depression of that degree. And we haven’t heard Twilight leave, which means she’s likely downstairs waiting for me to come talk to her about this. So we’ll find out if they survive it in time.”
One more question. Did you do the right thing telling Dash that Twilight felt as strongly as she did?
“Oh, I think so. Someone needs to move those mares forward, for better or worse. Again, they need to communicate their feelings more. This will hopefully provoke that. Imagine if you suddenly discovered something about me you didn’t expect.”
You shrug. You’ve learned a few things in just the last week alone.
“Yes, but were they as important as my being madly in love with you?”
She’s still madly in love? That’s cute.
“I- You’re not? Then I must be twice as mad.”
You chuckle and pull her closer to you. She laughs and tries to escape, rolling onto her side as your hands slap at her flanks and haunches.
“Nnnnhhh. You’re- No. I must... Must go help Twilight. Stop that spanking.”
You slap once more and her tail wraps around your arm.
“If you behave...”
You adjust her glasses. You’ll behave, but she has to wear them the next time you do it.
“You like them? I don’t really... I don’t really need them.”
Yes she does. She needs them more than she’d ever admit. Your thoughts drift back to catching her pleasuring herself two weeks ago with them on, moaning about wanting to keep them on. She’s self conscious of it.
“I am not. A lady is never self conscious about needs. I only need them for working and reading, that’s all I meant.”

Is that the case? Then it shouldn’t be a problem next time, right?
You grin and kiss her cheek before she rolls out of the bed and onto her hooves.
“I’ll be back to bed when I can be. Get comfortable.”
She needs to take her milkshake.
“Why? I’ll eat it when I get back.”
She can drink hers with Twilight’s drink.
“Twilight won’t be drinking her-hmmm. Perhaps she would. It’s a link to Dash... If she’s feeling guilty... Alright, it’s as good a conversation starter as any. You know, you’re better at this than I thought. Clever man.”
You smile. You have social skills, you’re just not as obvious about them.
“Is that the case? I can never tell when you’ve failed and when you’re simply choosing not to use them.”
You shrug. You’d never lie and try to say you don’t take most of your social cues from her.
“Good. That’s my greatest claim to fame you know. Your domestication is my crowning personal achievement.”
And with that parting quip she ducks out of the room before you can toss a pillow at her. It hits the door behind her giggling body and you hear her heavy footsteps thud up the hall and down the stairs as you sink into the sheets of your bed. The pillows left on your bed are bunched up. You pull them into the place she’d normally occupy and rest your head on it, clicking off the light and sinking into slumber.

You’re pushing your foal on a tire swing. You know it’s her. She has her mother’s hair. She’s laughing. She’s whole. The sun is setting, and Rarity’s sitting on the kitchen table watching. She laughs each time your foal does. The foal wants to jump, she wants daddy to catch her. But now she’s Rarity, far too big to be caught, and she’s hurtling toward you. You can’t drop her, she’s carrying your child. You rush under her and you’re hit directly. The breath is knocked out of you. The figure on you is snarling, ripping at your clothes, pulling and roaring a furious cry.
You kick it off as Rarity runs up, and it makes for her. As its murky figure rises you gulp and place yourself between it and her. She’s got your child in her womb. She needs to be protected. She’s shouting something you can’t hear as the creature rushes at you. Your bare hands claw for its eyes, you swing fists and push hard at it. Is it a pony? It kicks you with hooves. You stumble back and rejoin the fight as it beelines over and over for your wife.
Never in the wilds of Everfree was a more desperate battle joined between an unarmed creature bent on protecting its mate and a creature of such power, mass, and means as the one you fend off in those precious moments. Each thrust of your foot, each careful punch is a hard pressed defense designed only to keep it at bay. At last it tires of trying to make hopeless lines for Rarity and turns its lusty gaze upon you. You feel yourself shrink back as it tackles you, as it wraps its hooves around your throat and presses. The weight is too much to lift. You cry to Rarity to run. You beg her to leave. You wonder in your last moments why she doesn’t save you. Will she escape with your foal? The breath is crushed from your lungs and your mouth is covered. You try to pull at the hooves, but all sensation fades to black.
You snap awake to darkness equally deep and try to scream. You can’t. Your mouth is covered, your throat is tight, and your hands fly up and pull at a familiar texture. Your brain whirs and clicks, trying desperately to piece together your situation before you fade out of consciousness. Hair? You pull at it, and are rewarded with a yelp. The lights click on as you tear her tail away from where it’s wrapped around your throat and face. Your voice comes out sharp, angry, loud.
What the hell was she doing? She almost killed you!
In the light of the room your eyes adjust to her huddled sobbing mass. She says nothing, each time she opens her mouth to talk only gasps and sobs come out. At last she manages.
“Are you... are you alright? Oh please be alright.”
Yes, you’re alright. No thanks to her.
“W-what? No... you can’t be... you’re not... we’re...”
Alive?
“Yes... on dry... Ohhh no no no. What have I done? Your throat is... There are lines. Was I- Did I?”
In her sleep? You frown. Why would she start strangling you in her sleep?
“I was trying to save you. You were drowning, you great big idiot!”

You’re obviously more pieced together at this point. More alert. More awake. You can tell, because your brain catches onto what’s happening in record time.
Nightmares? She’s having nightmares too? Why didn’t she say anything? How long has it been happening?
“A nightmare... was it? We’re in bed... it must have- Oh good heavens, I need a... Hold me for a moment? Let me know you’re real.”
She pulls you into an embrace and you hold her as she sniffles and dries her eyes on your bare chest. Her nose leaves streaks of wetness the more she burrows into your arms, but you say nothing as she composes herself. Finally she talks from her safe haven against your body.
“You were dying. You were dying again. Always, it happens every time. I have to watch you from that stupid tree as you swim and sink and die. I’m so tired of it. I need you, I love you... Why are you such an idiot, every time?”
You’re not. You learned that lesson, remember? Has she been having these nightmares often?
“Y...yes. Yes, almost every night. I try not to think about it when I’m awake, and you were having so much trouble...”
Your mind pulls more pieces in and you venture a guess. Is this why she’s afraid of storms now?
“I can’t help it. It reminds m g everything each time I close my eyes.”
You look down and she’s looking desperately up at you, eyes shining with fresh tears, lip quivering. You smile encouragingly at her. You’re here, despite her best efforts tonight. You’d try to learn to fly before you swam off to leave her alone again. You get hooves slamming against your chest in response.
“Don’t you know how much it hurts to think of that? Don’t make fun. Don’t you dare make fun right now. What if I had been the one to leave you stranded while you had to watch me... watch me die in front of you?”
You bite your lip. You’ve apologized before. You’ve promised up and down, on summer and winter. What can you do to help her sleep easier? What can you do to help ease her mind?
“There’s nothing... Nothing.”
No, you won’t believe that. You wrap her tail around your hand and squeeze it affectionately. That should keep it occupied in the future, and she can know you’re here that way.
“That won’t be comfortable sleeping.”
It will be if you spoon yourself against her. She can go to sleep every night knowing it’s your body that’s here, safe with her.
“I don’t... we’ve slept that way before. It hasn’t helped.”
Not with purpose. If she’d said something, you’d have kissed her goodnight every night, and reminded her where you were.
“And where is that?”
In bed, right beside her. Where you’ll always be, if it’s up to you.
“Then we shall endeavor to make sure it’s always up to you. What time is it?”
You shoot a glance to the alarm clock on your nightstand. Not far past five in the morning.
“Gracious. We need our sleep. Tell me about your dream though.”
You shake your head. Talking about it never helps. You keep having them.
“Now that’s just not true. You’re nervous about being a father, it’ll subside. Tell me what it was about. You made me share.”
You sigh.
“Don’t give me that. Communication, that’s rule number one, right?”
You nod. Honesty is rule number two. It was a nightmare about protecting her. About... Well, shit.
“About what?”
About getting hurt protecting her.
“No, no. You’re not serious.”
You tell her how, in the dream, you’d fought to protect her, to keep the monster away and keep her safe.
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you were going to hide the fact that you’d jump into that water and leave me alone all over again if it meant you could play the hero and rescue your helpless wife.”
No. It was a stupid dream, alright? It has nothing to do with the water. She has nothing to be nervous about.
“I have everything to be nervous about. It has everything to do with that. You’re not committed to this idea yet.”
It was a dream. You can’t help what you dream about.
“Tell me honestly right now. If that... thing, whatever it was. Suppose it was a hydra. Would you full body tackle a hydra just to keep it away from me? I’ve faced down-”
You know. She’s told you all of her history. You know she’s a heroine in her own right, she’s bowled over dark gods and nightmares, fought manticores, matched wits with diamond dogs; but it doesn’t make you any less worried for her. She’s carrying everything precious to you bundled up in one single perfect figure.
“Don’t think flattery will get you past this. You’re stuck facing this, mister. You’ll work together with me next time. Alright? Stop just thinking you can save us both. We have to get past this or neither one of us will get a good night’s sleep.”
You roll your eyes. Dreams aren’t something you can decide to change the course of midstream. They’re not something you have any control over. You’d stand side by side with her if there was danger right now. And you finally confess to her your last moment, the only part of the dream that still lingers in vivid memory. The question of whether she left you to die.
“So part of you truly does expect us to work together? Are you lying?”
Would you lie?
“Sometimes. If it suited you, perhaps. You’re a thinking creature just like me. It’s an awfully convenient point in the conversation for you to remember that detail.”
No. This is the truth. She has to believe you.
“I do. I choose to. Poor dear. Your last moments were spent wondering if I abandoned you?”
You shrug. You know she wouldn’t.
“On some level, you must not be sure...”
You finally snap. They’re dreams. They’re stupid, they’re leftovers from the day. It was just the badpony dream, the wrestling with Dash and Twilight, the fact that you were actually physically being smothered.
“I... you know I didn’t mean to do that.”
You counter. Is she sure? She seems to think dreams mean something secret. Does she secretly want to kill you? She turns red and starts to whimper before sobbing.
“I-I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to want to kill you.”
She doesn’t want to kill you. You know she doesn’t.
“But I tried to!”
She was trying to save you.
“That’s... that’s true.”
You nod. She’s putting too much stock in these things.
“And you’re not putting in enough. You admitted yourself you’d still jump in without consulting me to protect me. Compromise with me. Dreams don’t have to mean nothing. They don’t mean everything, but they can help us learn... don’t withhold them from me, ever.”
You shrug. You weren’t the one withholding dreams.

“I... I know. And I’m sorry. It’s hard to see mistakes in yourself. Forgive me?”
You smile and nod. She’s already forgiven. But she’d better not expect you to ever share any dreams you have if other mares are involved. That’s an emotional minefield. She rolls her eyes in reply.
“I don’t want to know your wet dreams. But your dreams only have so much room, and I plan to be big enough to be the only pony capable of fitting in them. At any rate, I meant dreams that feel like they mean something other than ‘I’m going to wake up with an erection and give my wife all the attention she deserves, and think of only her while I do it, unless I want her to twist my arms behind my back and’-”
You cough and glance around the room. She follows your gaze until you finally lead her eyes down to the stiffness straining against your boxers.
“It’s so late... or early... I can’t believe you want to. Are you honestly so simple?”
You pull them down and sigh as the cool air of the room wraps itself around your rapidly swelling thickness. She eyes it for a moment before gently brushing a hoof across it.
“We need to finish this conversation. Stop side tracking me.”
You stare at the ceiling and put your hands behind your head, laying full on your back.
Can’t it be finished tomorrow? Can’t it be done now? You’ll share dreams. You’ll let her know you’re not going anywhere. You’ll try your best to trust her to see to her own protection if she’ll trust you to protect yourself.
As you finish, she straddles your lower body and fills your view, stomach spilling all the way up your chest and consuming your line of sight to her face.
“I suppose I can’t ask for much more than those things... at least not right now. Do you really want this so early? I’m rather tired. You’re going to have to do much of the lifting.”
That’s fine. It’ll help you sleep.
“Alright... I...”
She stifles a yawn.
“I’ll try my best. I’m not sure I’m wet enough.”
You nod. Is she really alright down there? Did she talk to Twilight?
“No... I didn’t. But I know my body. Don’t put it in the wrong hole and there shouldn’t be a problem. Trust me, would you?”
You nod. Alright, alright. You’ll trust her. You grip a handful of her side rolls and she squirms as she slowly rubs herself across your chest.
“Told you not to... Grab there... It’s embarrassing.”
You run your hands to her belly and let them sink, kneed, pull; all as gently as possible. She’s firm past the layer of fat. You can get your hand to sink completely into it up to that point, and she moans as you do it, but as your hands stray to her womanhood she whimpers a bit and draws back.
“It’s... it’s more sore than I thought. We shouldn’t. I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to tease... I swear it didn’t hurt until then.”
It’s alright. You’re just glad to know she can control herself well enough to call it quits. That means more than-
A tidal wave of pony interrupts as she flops onto you. Rather than go to any side, she’s just lowered herself straight forward, smothering your entire body. You squirm out from under her, easing her onto her side. She smiles as you manage it.
“You can... have my hooves if you’d like. Do you really want to take care of it?”
You grin and begin to stroke it yourself. She should do something sexy.
“But I’m so tired... My body is sore... I don’t want to get up.”
You laugh. How sexy can she be without getting up?
“Mmmm... I bet I can talk dirty with the best of the ladies.”
She rolls onto her back and sits up.
“Nnnnhhh... Wait... won’t you milk me?”
You moan and start to stroke yourself faster.
“Honestly, they’re just so swollen. It’s beginning to hurt. It’s been close to four hours. That’s past time. I’ll not make it to sunrise... They’re so full.”
This is going to go quickly. You’re already on the edge as you increase your pace. She just has to keep talking dirty.
“I could... I could fill bowls. Oh please milk me. Please?”
You bite your lip, trying to stifle the building orgasm.
“Really. Darling. It hurts, milk me.”
You feel your body tighten in anticipation, but now her voice isn’t pleading or sexy.
“Milk me. It hurts. It really hurts, please milk me.”
You stop. It’s not sexy if she keeps talking about pain.
“I’m not trying to be sexy... My body is full. It’s so full, and it’s only been four hours... I think something’s wrong... Can you milk me?”
Something wrong? You sit up and hurriedly scoop her up.
“Wh- go get a bowl. Where are you taking me?”
The bathroom. You can milk her easier there.
“I... I’ll walk. Don’t drop me!”
You hurry her into the bathroom and set her down, pulling aside the shower door as she climbs over the rim of the tub and into the bowl of it.
“Alright... It’s not how I want it, but... Alright.”
You start to milk. The process takes almost twenty minutes of pulling, pushing, squeezing, and compressing to relieve her. In the end almost a half liter of milk goes down the drain and she’s panting.
“Nnnnhhh. Let’s go to bed. I’m so terribly tired. I’m sorry, I really am. I feel awful. I can’t help with your-”
It’s not important. Sex isn’t important right now. You help her out of the tub and wash it out as she hurries back into the bedroom. When you rejoin her the lights are off and she’s curled up, shivering. You ask if she’s sick.
“No... I don’t think so.”
Is the baby alright?
“Foal’s alright, I think. I think I’d know if that was it.”
False labor?
“No, don’t be silly. That’s not it at all.”
Just tired perhaps?
“I think so. It’s been rather stressful, tonight. Sitting up to try to be sexy was just... too much. Everything had settled.”
You nod and smile, pulling her in and playing with her hair while spooning her in front of you. Her breathing finally begins to slow and you rub her shoulders. Under your gentle touch she sighs and moans.
“Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
You smile and nod. Whatever she says. As long as she gets her rest.
“I’m sorry. I’m not... not fragile.”

You know. This doesn’t change anything. But she can’t push herself so much.
“You shouldn’t either. Don’t leave me in my dreams tonight.”
You nod. You won’t. You’ll stay by her side until the rain stops.
She snuggles back more, the side of her face cupped gently in your draped arm, tail snugly wrapped around your forearm. Her words are slower, more broken up by yawns. Her shivering has long faded.
“The rain will stop. It stopped... I remember. It stopped eventually. You just have to hang on. I’ll help hold...”
She sighs contentedly and slumbers in your arms. At ease finally, you drift off next to her.

Morning light pulls you from your bed. You roll over to greet Rarity, and she stirs beside you.

“The time? What’s the time?”

You shrug before checking. Ten thirty. Time to get up. Sweetie Belle will be here later this afternoon. You need to get the guest bed made up again, and the room likely needs straightening. At your waist you feel hot breath. Your eyes wander down to where she’s already nuzzling your penis.

“I’m ahh... sorry about last night. Let me make it up to you?”

She shouldn’t. She’s still hurting, isn’t she?

“There’s only one way to find out. I dreamed something different last night you know.”

Sex? She had a sex dream?

“You should know better than to think a pregnant mare’s hormones won’t help... things... now then, what do I need to do to get this?”

Nothing. You both need to go do your morning chores, there’s no time.

“Nonsense. Just a little bit?”

She rubs at your manhood with her hooves and you feel it start to stiffen against your will. She crawls over onto your body, chubby legs and fat haunches spilling across you as she straddles you once more. You sigh.

“What? Am I not allowed to decide when we have sex?”

She decides all the time. That’s not a fair accusation at all.

“Fine. If you don’t want me, fine.”

She gets out of bed and hops into her bathrobe. You bite your lip, hormones finally surging. You’ll make time. You tell her to get back in bed.

“No... No, I don’t think I will. If you don’t want it when I want it, then there’s no point.”

That’s not true or fair. You can’t both be “on” at the same time.

“No, but it shouldn’t be that hard to get you interested.”

Hard? It took two minutes.

“No. Alright? I said no. You should know me better by now. I’m your wife, after all. Right now I’m hormonal, horny, and hungry. And I need a good milking again. They’re starting to ache. But I’ll do it myself. You do your... chores.”

And with that she storms out of the bedroom, leaving you wondering what just happened. After a few minutes pass you roll out of bed and pull on your jeans. Whatever she says. You grumble as you belt them and pull on a polo shirt - your best attempt to make yourself look presentable for her sister. Then you exit the room and make for the stairs.

Halfway down you can already hear her thrashing things about in the kitchen. You creep up to the door and crack it, spotting her in front of the fridge. She’s not bothering with plates or silverware, she’s just... sitting there. Eating in front of the fridge out of the Tupperware containers your leftovers have been saved in. Rather than pick the fight you know is coming, you ignore your growling stomach and make for the stairs. You can busy yourself with assembling a crib while the angry pony downstairs fills her empty stomach.

It’s the work of several moments to get all the assembly parts out of the box and onto the floor. You toss aside the directions, of course. They’re not necessary for something this simple. You pick up two of the parts and look at the box before locking them together and proceeding as best you can. Minutes pass and things go smoothly, and then you hear the door click. She shuffles in in her robe, stomach bulging it out in places, haunches not even covered by it anymore. When she sits, it’s a loud thud. She begins to levitate pieces of a mobile together, and silence owns the room as you both continue to assemble your various odds and ends.

Fixing up the baby’s room is something you really should have done before the due week, but it’s just been busy. You tell yourself that, but you know it’s not entirely true. You could have done it yesterday. Or the week before you went on your trip. Most of the recent events that ate up your time were either unavoidable or mandatory, but some could have been opportunities to do this. You bite your lip as you catch your thumb between two pieces and draw it back with a hiss.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It’s nothing. How’s the mobile coming along?

“Suns, moons, stars, the usual. I’d like to put a few gems on here, but it would feel so... expectant. I don’t want her to grow up thinking she has to be anything.”

You shrug. Isn’t the point of the cutie mark system entirely teleological? She’ll be happy if it works out.

“I... Yes and no. We’ve been over this. It’s not designed to make you do things. It’s meant to direct you to the things you already enjoy. It’s not like it’s decided for you.”

But that’s not true. Ponies names almost always match their talent in some strange way.

“Well, yes. Naming is important. You’re a prime example of that. The Princess said-”

You cut her off. You remember all too well the Princess’ warnings against giving just any pony your name. There’s no telling what magic might be associated with it. Still, you gave it to wife, and to the Princess.

“Does anyone else know it?”

No.

“Then there you have it. Still secret enough.”

You know all of this mish-mash about names, of course. You’ve known it since she started expecting, that you don’t pick out names for foals before they’re born.
“Both parents simultaneously name the foal what they imagine of their experience getting there, or of what the foal reminds them of at birth, or any number of things. There’s a magic to it.”
You know.
“It’s the reason some ponies have two names, and some have one. Both parents commonly say the same name, as in my own case... but there are differences. Just look at Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash.”
You know.
“Alright, I can take the hint. You don’t want to talk, fine.”
Silence covers the room back up for minutes as you finish your work on the crib and her mobile is assembled. Privately you’re eager to see what your daughter will be named. Rarity’s voice cuts the quiet of the room.
“Please don’t name her something silly.”
What? Hands McGee isn’t good enough?
You burst out laughing and she can’t keep glaring at you. She starts to laugh too.
“If you did... Oh my stars... You’re a fool, you know that?”
She should know by now. She married you.
“Yes, well. I expected the learning curve to be less sharp.”
You follow her eyes to the crib and realize you’ve assembled it upside down.
“Well, I hope her special talent is walking on ceilings. Didn’t you read the directions?”
Not important. It’s close enough, you just need to flip it over. Why do they even have that possibility?
“I don’t know. Pegasi need cages, perhaps? Here, let me help you.”
She shimmies out of her robe and you can’t help but stare as she bares her expansive ivory body. While it’s true that ponies are commonly naked, the act of disrobing is still... somehow strangely enticing.
You tell her to take it off slower and she pauses, pulling it back up around her.
“I... like this? You mean like this?”
You nod as she slowly reveals every inch of her immensely pregnant body, ending as she drops it over her haunches. She pouts and flips her hair as she looks back at it.
“Oh my... it seems to be... stuck.”
You reach out to pull it off and she moves in as you do, face burying in your chest and breathing in your scent. You toss the robe aside and pull your shirt off over your head as she works her way under it. Her breath comes hot on your chest as she speaks.
“Nnnnh... No teasing this time, alright? No going halfway. I can’t bear it anymore.”
Did she milk herself?
“A little bit. I can’t do it for long... I’m just so... worked up.”
You move your hand under her privates and can feel the heat coming off of them. You’re surprised she’s so hormonal this close to the birth. She’s almost got your jeans off before you snap back from your musing and help her ease them over and off your legs. Immediately she pulls at the front of your boxers, freeing your erection and clamping her mouth over it, sucking hard. Her cheeks cave and she continues to suck as she slides it around her mouth, tucking the head into the folds of her cheek, pushing her tongue over it with quick teasing flicks. You grip her hair and lean back against the crib, but it slides away and leaves you flopping onto your back.
She doesn’t miss a beat. She climbs up onto your cock and plunges it straight in with a howl of pleasure.
“Nnnnhhhhyaaaa. That’s it. That’s what I’ve been wanting all day and night.”
You grab handfuls of her haunches and help her slide up and down again as she whines.
“I can do it... I can.”
And she begins to bounce up and down, bracing her hooves on your chest to give her a bit of leverage. She’s a mass of sliding and moaning alabaster body, her hair flips and flies wildly, her tail wraps and twists around one of your legs. For your part you hook your hands under her haunches and they sink and disappear as she moves herself up and down your aching shaft. It takes both of you lifting to keep her rhythm constant, and even still you’re both panting in minutes. Each time she lands on your body you watch her thick rolls ripple, and each time she rises up you get a glance of your slick and shining rod almost entirely bared.
At last she sinks down and can’t lift herself anymore, it’s up to you to do the work. You try to thrust from where you are, but it’s impossible. Your hands stray out from under her to her nipples, so tender and swollen in front of you. You begin to squeeze the thick flesh around them, watching as the milk dribbles between your fingers. Above you she moans and tries to roll off so you can continue thrusting better, but you grip harder on her breasts, earning a full on spray of milk up your chest and onto your face. You lick at your lips. It actually... actually tastes like milk.
You ease yourself out of her, laying her onto her back as you lower your face to one of her teats. It’s the work of moments to make her moan again, suckling at it and drawing out gulps of semi-sweet creamy milk. Her hooves paw at your shoulders as you continue.
“Gentle... they’re tender. Be gentle?”
You nod and suckle longer, slower, softer. She sighs and her legs spread as her body uncoils and stretches. Between her legs your hand creeps up and in, two fingers gently playing about her slit. You pause in sucking to ask her if she still aches like she did last night.
“Nnnhhh. No. I think... it wasn’t my... it wasn’t hurt down there. It was the... the...”
You rub her tummy with your other hand. She can’t stand vulgar words, so you guess for her. Was her clit sore from all the stimulation?
“Yes... yesssss. More fingers?”
You slip in fingers three and four in quick succession and she groans, lifting her tummy up slightly to give you better access to her breasts.
“Nnnhh... Keep emptying them. As much as you can.”
You nod, vacant stomach in agreement as you lower your face to her breasts and continue to gently prod and probe with your four fingers inside her. At last she indicates that you can relax your work on one of her aching mammaries and turn your attention to the other one, sucking and slurping at it while she squirms under your careful ministrations. All the while you can feel her insides growing slicker, wetter, more ready. You withdraw your fingers and cup both breasts in your hands, sliding your milk slickened cock into the cleavage you’ve created.
“You’re... you’re missing. That’s not it.”
You thrust, dick buried in the mounds of her wet, milk slickened teats. Milk dribbles out from the pressure you’re putting on them, giving their stretched pink skin a shiney gloss, running down into the crevasse and continuing to lubricate as you thrust again.
“Nnnnhhhh you’re being naughty. That’s not going to help-”
She gasps as you thrust once more, milk spurting out and causing her fresh waves of pleasure.
“Keep going... Nnnhhhh keep milking them. Don’t waste everything but...”
You thrust again, and again, each thrust resulting in a bit more milk splashing and splaying about. Before long your hands are soaked in it, and you lick it off.
“Nnnh. Has it started to taste?”
You shush her and pick up the pace, working your hips furiously. Her sore nipples continue to leak milk all the while, and you clench your teeth, readying for the orgasm you can feel welling up. Your back arches and you let out a moan as your seed spurts and shoots up the underside of her tummy, squirting and shooting all over her coat and the floor around you. She fumbles around on the floor until she finds your manhood with her mouth, clamping over it and bobbing her head up and down to generate new hardness in it all while sucking down the last of your thick first load of the day.
You can feel your erection slowly returning, the euphoria fading and being replaced by fresh waves of pleasure building up as you grow hard in her mouth. She swallows it down when it becomes too much for her, taking the length down her throat and continuing to work her tongue over it until she’s sure it will stay hard. Then she turns around, presenting her womanhood to you in all its soaked, pink perfection.
You don’t need prompting, plunging in and driving her to the floor with a shared cry of lust and pleasure. Your hips work madly as you drive her forward, slowly slipping and sliding across the milk and jism slickened hardwood floor until she contacts with a wall. There you continue to drive, thrusting and pounding with loud claps that fill the nearly empty room. She finally wiggles free and you scoop her up and pin her against the wall. Downstairs you can hear a knock at the door, but you shake your head when she makes eye contact. You continue to thrust and slam as you lean her against the wall, creating a sling for her with your arms and holding her off the ground. She wraps her legs around you and you pick up the pace, sending her into silently mouthed swears. The weight of her body and the protests of your arms fade into white noise as you continue your work, but slowly she slips down the length of the wall and takes you with her.
This doesn’t stop the fun though. As soon as she hits the floor you hike up her leg, roll her onto her side, straddle her spare leg and plunge yourself back in. From the new position you’re buried balls-deep, entire shaft disappearing into her without being held back by the thickness of her body. Her eyes fly open as you bump the end of her insides, and she whimpers. You know that bumping the cervix would hurt most ponies, but it all just becomes pleasure to her. She likes the small degree of pain, and she widens her legs as much as she can, begging for that same spot to be slammed over and over.
You oblige, continuing to take advantage of your excellent position. Your hands grope and grab at her rolls of tummy, holding them out of the way as she continues to beg and plead.
“Please... don’t stop. Keep going. That’s the spot. Keep going. I’ll... I-”
You feel her tighten around you and you know she’s cumming. Her hooves claw at the hardwood floor, the baseboard of the wall, your chest, anything they can reach. You keep on pounding, body aching with pleasure but void of anything to release this soon after your last climax. You could keep going until the pleasure overtakes you, but a knock from downstairs brings you back to reality. When you try to stop however, she locks her legs around you.
“Don’t stop. So hot... I want to go again.”
You look at her and she smiles.
“Honest. Trust me?”
You nod and resume your thrusting, gradually building up to the quick speed you had moments ago. She leans back, taking it in, ocassional moan slipping from her pursed lips. You lower your hand and gently tease her exposed clit, experimenting as best you can. The sharp intake of breath gives you no clues one way or the other as to whether or not she’s still hurting, but when you try to move your hand away her hoof shoves it back.
“More. Like that.”
You nod and continue to rub circles around it as you thrust and pound. To your surprise, you can feel the beginnings of orgasm steadily building in you as well. With your unoccupied hand you begin to spank her, and her moans finally escape her mouth with a shrill cry.
“Nnnhhhaa. Oh. Oh keep going. Keep going, I’m almost there!”
You slap her enormous bottom harder and pick up the pace until you feel her body stop shaking and rocking on its own. As you start to slow down you feel the tension drip from your body in sweet climax inside her, and you drop onto the floor beside her panting. Her lips find yours, but it’s not the fierceness you expected. It’s soft, gentle, not the result of a half an hour of screwing some degree of marital conquest from one another’s loins, but the kiss of a mare who’s finally content.
“Door... someone was at the door.”
You nod and scoop up her robe, helping her into it as you hop into your jeans. She heads to the door as you finish righting the crib and gently hang her mobile above it, looking around the otherwise bare room. Soft lilac walls. A home-made toybox with some things you were gifted at the shower, and a dresser with clean clothes. In the corner, some packs of diapers stacked up. You take a deep breath and close the door, hoping you’re ready for what’s coming to live in there.

When you get downstairs, Rarity’s sitting in her chair with a letter. It seems one of the mystery knocks was the mailmare.
“It’s from mother. She says Sweetie Belle’s meant to arrive today, and she’s passing up on her first concert for it.”
You hop into the chair next to her. Isn’t that Sweetie’s choice?
“It is... but this is her big break. And you know how she’s still a bit stageshy. I’ve worked enough fashion shows to know that’s what this is. She wants to be here for the foal, but just as equally she doesn’t want to be there for fear of failing. I’m not quite... Oh, why does everyone in my life insist on being so noble and self sacrificing? Don’t they understand it’s all just... just rubbish?!”
You rest your hand on her hoof and try to sound encouraging. She knows about generosity. This is the same thing.
“No. It’s not the same thing. Generosity is about helping those with less, because you’ve got more. It’s about passing up on what you don’t need because others do. It’s saying you don’t like pie when you notice there’s not enough to go around. This is different. You and Sweetie... that’s not generosity, it’s self destruction.”
Sacrifice can be a mark of love. She knows that. It’s the highest mark of love.
“You think so? You really think so? I think it’s selfish.”
It’s entirely selfless. That’s the point! It’s loving someone more than you love yourself!
“No. Not to the person you leave behind it isn’t. It’s loving your principle more than you love yourself. True sacrifice exists, but it’s not what you’re doing, or what she’s doing. If Sweetie came here, she could feel less guilty. She’s fulfilled her obligation as a sister, and she’s run from the problem she was afraid of rather than faced it. But I’d feel simply awful about it. I couldn’t live with myself. For what little she’d be contributing, the trade wouldn’t be even at all.”
You rest your face in your palm. These kinds of philosophical talks are always awkward with her. Can’t she see people want to do right by her?
“Right by me? Right by me would be wishing me well and going on to succeed. Right by me would be having the courtesy to at least drown where I can see you, to sink up to your neck in the water right beside me. How can I value myself over her, or you? How could I live with myself? When you make such stupid sacrifices, you entirely remove my voice from the equation. You don’t even ask if I want to be saved. It’s a power play, and it’s about you. Generosity is about giving people a chance to have a voice. What you’re talking about only takes it away.”
There’s a click of a door and you both look up. Sweetie Belle is removing her hat, still damp from the rain.
“Twilight said you’d be here... So I hope you don’t mind that I just let myself in this time. You didn’t answer before.”
You shoot a nervous glance to Rarity, but she’s suddenly all smiles. She rises and embraces her sister, and in seconds they’re trading overly cheery hellos and comments on each other’s growth and physique.
“My sister, the professional singer. Haven’t you somewhere to be?”
Sweetie looks away at the floor.
“I’m sorry. I heard you talking about it... I don’t... It’s not like that.”

Rarity smiles, and even you feel the maternal pull of her sudden charm. Sweetie melts under that caring gaze and finally meets her sister’s eyes.

“Well then, why don’t we have tea for two in the kitchen while we discuss it. You look dreadfully wet.”

You can take the hint, and you duck into the workshop room, busying yourself with straightening shelves that don’t truly need the help. When at last you hear their voices re-enter the living room, they’re happy and laughing. They talk of times gone by. You hear Rarity inquire about getting a fire started, and you hurry back in, happy to be able to finally help. In only a few minutes a roaring blaze is going and Sweetie’s cloak and hat are drying by the fire while you all laugh and fill each other in on over a year’s separation. By the time night is falling, Rarity wraps up a story and looks from you to Sweetie.

“So... Dinner. We need dinner.”

You nod, and Sweetie Belle agrees.

“I was going to see if Twilight and Dash have wrapped up their spat and see if everyone wanted to do drinks and pizza tonight. Something a bit more low key, I don’t feel like cooking.”

You can’t help but grin. Pizza means Dragon’s Oven pizza, and that’s the best stuff in Equestria bar none. In only minutes she’s giving you a list of beers to go pick up and party favors to receive, plus a few groceries. You nod and hurry out the door, excited for the evening.

Dragon’s pizza is, of course, a pizzeria run entirely by younger dragons and ponies. It’s the only place that actually serves meat in all of Equestria, and the only time you ever get to eat it. Expensive? Perhaps. Delivered hot to your door via dragonbreath? Certainly. But worth it? Definitely. And every bit sent their way goes to building a horde for the young dragons when they come of age, a ritual that every dragon should practice lest they suffer some degree of dibilitating gem lust in their maturing years and wreck the lives of everypony for miles. It’s an excellent charity system, and you know your generous wife always sends the finest gems as tips. You smile as you take the list from her and hurriedly put on your coat.

“If I see Rainbow Dash I’ll send her to help you carry things back!”

You nod and hurry into the streets of ponyville, only a half an hour before the market closes. Even at your best pace, by the time you reach it you have ten minutes to collect everything. You ask the familiar checkout mare where you might find the beers you’ve been sent to select, but she just gapes and looks behind you.
You feel it before you hear or see it, and you’re slammed off your feet and onto the ground. You roll and put your hands up, ready to fend off your attacker, only to have your shoulders pinned by Rainbow Dash’s hooves.
“‘Sup?”
You roll your eyes. That wasn’t funny.
“I dunno, you looked pretty classic. Should’ve seen the look on your face! Come on man, you’re supposed to be evenzies with me or something.”
She dismounts and offers you a hoof to help you up. Together you walk past the horrified checkout pony and into the beer aisle. She picks out a few choice microbrews and slips them into her saddlebags while you select a variety of lagers and ales and carry the sixpacks onward to the chip aisle. There you collect chips and salsa while Dash zips about collecting your groceries in record time. After you’re sure you’ve gotten everything you pay and exit the store as the owner closes the doors behind you.
Now that you’re in the street you nudge her and ask her if she’s made up with Twilight.
“What, y’mean for last night? Kinda. I mean... I think we were both... she went kinda nuts that I wasn’t there when she woke up and needed me. Never thought she’d need me to be, honestly.”
You nod and let her continue, not wanting to interrupt the outflow of information you’ve privately been dying to know.
“I mean... I never knew how much she needed me. At least not until last night, when you told me. And then she was so mad that I didn’t figure it out on my own, like I’m supposed to or something, yeah?”
You nod. You want to tell her that this is why communication’s important, but you keep it to yourself.
“So I told her everything this morning. I told her how much I messed up, and how much I missed her at night, and uhhh...”
You laugh.
“I mean, I can make it and stuff on my own, but the long and short is that we’re kinda moving in together. Or talking about it. I think.”
You conceal your alarm with a nod, deciding to stay on her side and see where she’s going with it first.
“It’s kinda like, I dunno. I dunno what other mares do who like mares. I dunno what other ponies will say if we do it.”
Screw them.
“Easier said than done. And I bet Twi would be pretty pissed if I did.”
You laugh again and mess her hair and mane up. She retaliates by flicking her tail and you nudge her. Before long you’re pushing and shoving each other the entire walk home. At last you almost lose your footing from her merciless ribbing and she catches you easily. It seems like the right time to ask. You can’t call yourself her friend and not bring it up.
Is she sure she’s doing the right thing moving in with Twilight this soon after such a brutal fight?
“Huh? Where’d that come from.”
From your conversation before.
“Oh. Right. Well... I mean...”
If she has to hesitate, she should think about it more.
“No, I just... I’m bad at this kinda stuff, dude. Don’t go acting like you’re much better at it, either. I dunno how to say it. All our fights are because we’re not around enough. I never noticed how much being crazy about somepony would drive you crazy around them.”
Seems counter-logical.
“No... no, look. If I miss Twilight, I get all stressed and stuff. Then when she wants to go someplace else I get bent out of shape ‘cause I haven’t seen her at all that day. Moving in should help out.”
You shake your head. It’s her call, but did she talk about marriage at all?
“No... but this is kinda the same, right? I mean, if ponies can get used to this, they’ll be used to us.”
Not the same, is it? It can’t be just about what other ponies do and say. It has to be about them on some level.
“Man, when’d you turn into such a downer?”
You sigh, and now it’s hard for you to talk.
You almost screwed her over last night by pushing her and Twilight around, and you feel like crap for it. No matter what Rarity says, you think they should take their time. It’s not up to you, but it seems like they shouldn’t rush just because they feel like they have to.
“Oh. Uhhh... You don’t have to feel bad. It wasn’t your fault at all. Last night, I mean. But... I dunno. I’ll think about it. What’ll Twilight say if I go back on moving in at this point, anyway?”
You reach the door to the Boutique and stop there, looking at Dash firmly and seriously for once.
Twilight will do what she’ll do, but Dash shouldn’t ever be so afraid of her partner’s reaction that she doesn’t say something about it. Talk about everything.
She rolls her eyes and lowers her head.
“Communication. Yeah. Got it. Heard it a million times.”
You laugh and open the door for her. It’s the key to a healthy marriage.
You bump into something as you proceed.
Rarity fills the door in front of you, looking up.
“What’s that?”
You jump back with a laugh and rub her ears, shooting a nervous look over to Sweetie Belle. Just talking to Dash about something important.
“Oh, were you? You’ve gotten good at that.”
You nod and move to set your collected things down in the kitchen.

When you return Dash and Twilight have their beers open, and Sweetie’s fumbling with the cap on hers. Rarity is laughing and talking loudly, a glass of water in her hoof.
“She’s only in for the evening of course, she’ll be going to her concert tomorrow. I just know she’ll be fantastic no matter what happens.”
Twilight and Dash offer their congratulations as Dash reclines onto Twilight’s seated flank. The purple unicorn blushes as her eyes wander to Sweetie, still struggling with the top to her beer bottle. Twilight moves her leg away, and Dash’s ears sink a little bit. The pegasus carefully scrunches back onto her side of the couch and sips her beer quietly as Rarity continues to extol Sweetie’s virtues as a singer and performer.
“Go ahead Sweetie. Tell them about that charming stallion you said you’d met backstage at the auditions.”
Sweetie taps her still closed bottle on the side of the couch, face scrunched up.
“Dumb bottle.”
You pluck it from her hooves and open it with a strong twist, sitting down on the couch across from her and forcing Dash to scoot closer to Twilight. Dash offers you a confused look, but you just stretch out a bit more as you return Sweetie’s now opened bottle. You can feel Dash move a little bit away from you, and you risk a glance over, discovering that Twilight’s hoof is creeping toward Dash’s. Relieved, you grab up a bottle for yourself, pop it open with ease, and take a quick swig.
Before long everyone in the room is on bottle two, and spirits are in high swing.
“I must admit to being nervous about the foal’s special gift of course. I know it’s meant to be something she has fun doing, but I fear I’m just too personally sighted. Whatever would I do if she became a backorder cook, or a ditch digger, or a garbage mare?”
Sweetie clears her throat, prompting an amendment before Rarity proceeds.
“Apologies Sweetie. I don’t mean any ill toward Apple Bloom, but that was a spot of bad luck. Somepony has to empty the garbage though, I suppose.”
“She seems to enjoy it alright. That’s the nice thing about having a cutie mark.”
“Yes, well. Be that as it may, I fear for the foal’s safety all the same.”
Twilight eyes you from where she and Dash are now more comfortably close and shoots a question your way.
“What about you? Would you be worried for her if she turned out to be a dragon tamer, or concerned if she was a gravedigger?”
You ponder it and shrug. Whatever makes her happy, you suppose. You’ll always be here to make sure she’s safe.
Dash leans a little more into her partner, prompting a new nervous glance around the room from Twilight. From her cushy spot she finishes her second beer and opens another.
“Y’know, that’s real sweet. I’d like to be a dad someday like you. I mean, not like you, like you-”
“-And not a dad, either.” Sweetie Belle amends.
“Well why the hay not? I could be somepony’s dad if I wanna.”
Dash’s powder blue face is slowly blushing more, and she takes another swig of her beer.
“I bet I could be a dad.”
Sweetie laughs.
“I don’t think it works that way, Dash. You gonna be ok to fly home?”
“I guess. It isn’t like that’s that... that hard to do.”
You bite your lip as your mind races for a distraction, and nearly jump out of your seat as Rarity rises with an “AHA!”
In midst of your semi-circle a stack of pizza boxes begins to materialize with a puff of green and blue smoke. You all cough slightly and you pull the boxes apart and start to open them as the ponies dig in. You grin as you bite into delicious pepperoni, sausage, and bacon. Oh how you’ve missed their amazing flavors. Across the little coffee table from you, Rarity looks around carefully before extending her hoof to the meaty pizza.
“Well, this is a room full of forward thinking mares, I think. Darling, might I have a bite of that... the one you’ve got?”
Twilight almost chokes and the other two ponies turn to stare.
“Is... is it a problem, having different tastes?”
Twilight forces herself to swallow.
“No... no, not really.”
Sweetie’s cuts in now.
“No way! I’ve met all kinds of ponies on the show circuits and stuff. They’re all pretty nice though. You meet some neat mares and colts. I know somepony who actually tried meat too, but he said it wasn’t that nice.”
Twilight Sparkle’s eyes shift about the room carefully.
“O-oh. You meet a lot of interesting ponies, don’t you Sweetie?”
Rarity’s little sister nods sagely.
“Oh yeah. Stageponies are pretty open minded. I know a few mares who like mares, and one of the colts who was chasing me for a while wanted me to join a harem.”
Rarity stops mid bite.
“Really? How positively scandalous. And you’ve mare friends who date mares? How progressive!”
Sweetie nods with a grin and you look over at Twilight, but the lavender librarian has suddenly got a mouthful of something besides pizza. Dash pushes her further into the cushions with loud slurping kisses; and Sweetie blushes and takes a larger bite of her pizza, staring intently.
“O-oh my gosh. Dash really shouldn’t have had so much to-”
“They’re seeing each other, Sweetie.”
“Well not like that. Their eyes are all scrunched up, and I don’t think they need their tongues to look at-”
“Sweetie, darling. They’re dating each other.”
“Ooooh. Oh, wow. That’s... pretty topical.”
You slap your forehead loudly and Rarity can’t help but laugh. At last Twilight untangles herself and apologizes profusely, much to everyone’s general acceptance. Behind her Dash’s hoof begins to rub and play with her mane. Twilight blushes as the pegasus’ hoof creeps down her back and across her leg.
“D-dash.... Dash, we need to talk.”
“Hmmmm?”
Dash’s eyes, half lidded, follow Twilight’s over to the kitchen door. Wordlessly they depart for it and the door clicks behind them. Sweetie Belle sinks into her seat and picks up another slice of pizza as she watches them go, sighing once they’ve left.
“Awww. I hope I didn’t get Dash in trouble.”
“I... somehow doubt it, dear. So tell me about your mare friends.”
“First you tell me how come you’re trying meat. That’s weird for a pony.”
Rarity shrugs and bites into the piece. Her equine teeth struggle for a few moments with the consistency of it, but finally she swallows and blushes.
“If I’m honest, I’ve been craving it since day one of this pregnancy... but I didn’t want anypony to know. You’re supposed to crave what your foal needs, and I can’t imagine what the implications of it might be. I’ve been hard at work getting my protein from other sources of course, but the taste... I didn’t even know the taste but I longed for it.”
Sweetie tilts her head.
“Maybe the baby just needs protein or something. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, ‘sis.”
“No, I quite agree. But protein certainly didn’t abate the desire to taste it... bite it... sink my teeth into it...”
Your eyes narrow. She never told you about any of those cravings. You clear your throat and ask if you can speak to her... Alone, in the sewing room, since the kitchen is occupied.
“When I finish my slice. I can tell you’re upset, so I’ll let you drag me away from what little time I have with my sister.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but Sweetie assures her it’s alright.

One slice later you’re both in the sewing room. As you close the door behind you she darts deeper into the room, looking about for fabric.
“I told Sweetie I’d make her a proper cloak for her show tomorrow night. Where did I put that gold silk?”
You clear your throat.
“You can berate me while I work, you’re not going to say anything I can’t guess.”
Is that a shortcut for all this communication she keeps harping on about? Just guess when one of you is mad and be done with it?
“No. But I know what you’ll say. And you know what I’ll say. I’ll say that you were already worried enough about the state of the foal without having to worry that she’ll turn out carnivorous or vampiric.”
You sigh and roll your eyes. Those are legitimate worries.
“No, no they aren’t. Legitimate worries are something you can do something about. What would you do in the case of the foal?”
You don’t know. Talk to Twilight? Ask why it would be that way? Put your mind at ease?
“Your mind has been at ease for nine months.”
Then why did she tell you now?
“Because with only a few days to go there’s not much you can do to worry about it, and I can actually satisfy the urge. Which, by the way, isn’t satisfied yet. I’d think you’d be happy, I could put on a plethora of pounds if you’d let me have my way with that pizza in there.”
You swallow hard at the thought of it and shake your head.
All that pizza... waiting for her?
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
She’s trying to distract you.
“It seems to be working.”
She rubs her hoof across your growing bulge, stroking it carefully through your jeans.
“Later? Perhaps?”
You nod. You’re still upset with her.
“I’m sorry. I know... I know.”
Is this the last secret?
“Yes.”
The dreams? The cravings? Anything else?
“I ahhh...”
You pick up her glasses from the sewing table next to you and place them on her face.
“There. Yes.”
You scratch her ears. Why does she try to keep secrets from you?
“I could ask you the same... but honestly, you’ve been fairly good about it, haven’t you?”
You nod. She bugs you too much to let you get away with secrets, although you’ve tried.
“Yes, I know you have. But I suppose it just happens. You know I’d never hide anything big from you, yes?”
You stroke her expansive back. She’s not going to slip anything that big past you.

“Oh ha ha. Very well then. Let’s go back to Sweetie, we’re simply awful hosts.”

The night progresses onward as you cuddle with Rarity in her overstuffed recliner. Eventually Dash and Twilight emerge from the kitchen, Dash’s chest heaving, Twilight’s mane a mess. Both of them look significantly more sober, and the two sink into the couch and help themselves to a couple more slices of pizza. The hours slip by and the beers are steadily emptied until Sweetie Belle is fast asleep in her chair and your other two guests are cuddling spooned on the couch. With a large yawn, Dash and Twilight breach the subjects of meat eating, of showing their relationship to Sweetie Belle, of their plans to move in together. Dash’s eyes linger on you during this portion of the conversation, and she finally sits up.

“Twi... We’re not moving too fast, are we? I mean... shouldn’t we let everypony know, first?”

Twilight tilts her head at the question and sips at her beer thoughtfully. Her eyes fixate on a point above the fireplace and she swallows hard.

“I... I understand if you’ve changed your mind Rainbow. I know it’s a lot to commit to.”

“No, I haven’t. I just mean... Uhhh... Coming out together, that’s a lot of commitment. And pressure. And even though we don’t know it, maybe we’ll need space as we get used to everypony knowing about us. After tonight, I kinda think it’s possible.”

Twilight risks a look over her shoulder to Dash and meets serious eyes. Their gazes lock as Twilight forces a smile.

“Oh I know! I wasn’t expecting Sweetie to be so... agreeable. But she’s a stagepony. This is a small town. Who knows how everypony will react? I want you by my side for that...”

“I will be. But you’ll want me out of your sight sometimes, too. You love your space Twi.”

There’s silence. Then Twilight breaks it. Her voice falters, and she seems on the verge of tears.

“Y-you’re not having second thoughts about... about us? I mean... I really wanted you with me for this. We can talk about it some more, right?”

“What the hay?! Of course I’m not gonna quit you. Silly filly... Spent our whole time together chasing you, remember? We can talk any time... I don’t wanna decide everything tonight, but I didn’t want it all decided right away either...”

“No, I get that, it’s just-”

Twilight looks up where you and Rarity are grinning and cuddling.

“Uhh. We’ll finish the talk later, huh? My place? Tonight?”

Dash nods.

“Will you still stay with me tonight?”

Another nod.

“Wanna go now?”

A third nod.

“Alright well... guess we’re going then. Thanks for having us, Rarity!”

Your wife springs off the couch to say her farewells and hug her two close friends. Dash weaves around her after the hug is finished and hugs your legs as you rise awkwardly to meet her. You mess her hair and mane a little in reply, it’s the best you can do at your height without stooping awkwardly.

“Night dude. Talk to you tomorrow, huh?”

Probably.

“Good luck with the foal!”

When they’re gone and the last goodbye is said Rarity scoops up the pizza boxes and carries them off into her sewing room. You follow her, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. When you get in, she’s already gorging herself on it.

“Nnmmm... Meat’s so hard to chew. But it’s so good.”

Does she want just meat, or protein too?

“Hmmm?”

She looks over as you present your boner to her.

“Mmmm... that counts as both...But I need you to work your magic again on these breasts of mine... they’re simply aching. I hope you saved room for dessert.”

You nod eagerly as she presents them to you, hooves working quickly on Sweetie’s cloak as you suckle. At last it becomes too much for her and she drops her work and grips your hair with her hooves.

“Hhhhhhaaaaa. It’s been hours. You’ve no idea how good this feels.”

All the while you marvel at how sweet her milk has become, how big and tender her breasts are now. Each flex of your hand squirts milk out, a topping you place on slices of pizza as you gradually feed them to her before lowering your mouth once more to her swollen mammaries and gulping down their abundant nector. You finish suckling her back to comfort- a process that takes almost an hour- before you receive the go ahead to lift her into your arms and take her upstairs.You can’t manage it all the way of course, but she’s happy to follow you the rest of the way into bed, a floating train of pizza boxes in tow.

You quickly brush your teeth and slip into your bathrobe, and when you return to bed she’s already finished the last four slices of one large pizza and is moving onto the next. You grin and shimmy out of the robe, lifting a slice to her mouth. She bites into it with relish, moaning as your spare hand rubs her tummy. Her hoof finds the expected boner and begins to slowly tug up and down on it as you lift each slice to her mouth. When you reach the last box she straddles your legs, facing away as she scoops up one of the last three slices and bites into it with a soft moan while easing down onto your cock.

The view of her immense backside is incredible. The warmth of her womanhood, the way she grips each time she shifts and slides, the way she moans around each bite of pizza- all these things drive you to cup your hands under each of her broad buttocks and begin to pump in and out of her. You watch as your slickened shaft disappears and reappears from her folds almost as if by magic. Your hands begin to play with her tail and the pucker of her anus, but this earns a reproving groan and you shift their work to her backside once more. As she finishes the second slice of meaty goodness she cranes her neck to face you.

“Nnnnmmmm. This position... this pizza... it’s simply divine. I’m such a bad girl, eating so much... probably gained a dozen pounds tonight. My stomach is positively stretched to bursting. I hope you’ve got plans to rub it.”

You nod and ease her off you and onto her side. You cuddle up to her, hands rubbing the immense orb pressed between your bodies, mouths working madly and tongues searching hopefully for one last stop in the world of pleasure before things draw to a close. The reality of it is so present she finally breaks off the kiss and rolls onto her back.

“It’s... it’s likely our last chance, you know. Put on some sort of smooth jazzy music? Dim the lights? I want it to be special. Things change. Tomorrow, most likely. Or the day after. Those were Twilight’s estimations...”

You smile and turn off the lights entirely, opening the windows to bathe both your skins in the moonlight.

“How did we change gears so quickly? I... I thought things were going to be terribly naughty, but...”

You cup her body to yours and slide in between her waiting legs. She moans and grips her hooves around your shoulders, pulling you down to her. The moon spills over her indigo mane and throws her whole body into a pale white light. Every inch of her color is offset in the moon’s soft glow, and you look in eyes that normally shine with sapphire fire only to discover they’ve been replaced with trembling pools of cyan. She closes them and a small silver gleam trickles down her face. You hear her whisper your name and you cup her face in yours, wiggling awkwardly until you can kiss her before starting to thrust slowly and gently.

Each thrust earns a contented sigh, and you stroke the sides of her face as you do it. You tell her it’s alright to cry at this point. She’s practically breathing your name, but the breaths turn to sniffles and moans. You whisper hers back and she clenches her hooves around you. You can feel the tightness, can feel her go slack, can feel her sigh as you pick up the pace despite the fact that she’s just cum. She has to bite her lip to avoid screaming your name, her forehooves tighten and pinch at your arms. Her back legs wrap around you as you continue to increase your speed. You can feel it welling up in you, but the moment shouldn’t be allowed to end. You’re too conscious of it, too aware that if it ends now everything could begin to roll downhill in a direction you’re only beginning to be emotionally prepared for.

So you bite your lip and force the pleasure to the back of your mind. You stare at your wife, lovely, illuminated by the moonlight. You let thanks to Luna pass from your lips that you can see her so beautiful in such soft light. You admire the blush that floods her face at the compliment, you summon up the first time you saw her in this position blushing. It seems so far away, so long ago, a time when you were both unprepared and all too self conscious. You kiss the tip of her horn and try your best to meet her lips. Through a strange craning of her neck she manages to help you do it, and you whisper to her.

You tell her you love her. That you’re ready. That you’re so glad it’s her. Her eyes start to tear up again, and you feel a stinging at your own. When you try to blink it away you lose your focus, and the pleasure of the moment rushes back. She moans and her back arches as you pick up the pace once more and feel the rush of upcoming release. Then it’s there, orgasm gripping you and rendering you temporarily senseless. You bury yourself as deeply as you can, releasing inside her amid ragged pants and self-conscious sniffles that betray how moved you truly are by the opportunity before you.

And this is how you flop into bed beside her, kissing at her neck, running your hands through her hair, finally curling up after a night and day of many random directions, the day you both expect to be your last day of play. And as you fall into slumber, you can’t imagine how wrong you both are. You can’t imagine the agony of time’s cold betrayal; the horrible waiting period that awaits you both as you’ll wake up seven more mornings, each time to the cruelty of an entire week beyond what was expected, a week that passes entirely uneventfully.

Finale

=====================================================================

-Finale: Pregnant Rarity, Oral Sex, Heavy Lactation, Plot progression, Humor, Somewhat graphic birthing, Epilogue

=====================================================================

“Because it’s been a week Twilight. A whole week of nothing!”
Across the room the lavender unicorn slumps in her chair, determined to look anywhere but your wife’s face.
“Rarity-”
“You said it would be in the thirty-seventh day of fall. We’re on the forty-fourth. How long is that?”
Twilight sighs and forces herself to look at Rarity directly.
“It’s a week.”
“A whole week? It’s unheard of. I think I have every right to want you to check on the foal at this point.”
“I know. And I did. The minute you walked in my door.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything? Is it bad news?”
“It’s no news. Everything’s exactly the same as when you asked the last time. You might remember it. It was yesterday.”
“So we’re being snarky, are we? Is that how you treat your friends? Your worried, concerned friends?”

“I’m not being snarky. I’m telling you the honest truth. You’ve been in here daily. We can’t make things happen faster. I told you on day three that I didn’t recommend forcing labor to start early, and you know exactly why.”
“Are you so sure it’ll be different?”
“All the signs point to the foal you’re carrying being...”
Rarity stops in her tracks and swivels to face Twilight on the last word. Ponyville’s librarian picks it with as much grace as possible.
“Special.”
“So you don’t know for certain?”
The walking resumes, and you clear your throat. You remind Rarity politely that she’s pacing again and she groans loudly and trots over to the couch you’re sitting on, climbing on and flopping onto her side with another loud groan of protest. Twilight continues only once Rarity’s seated, her eyes never leaving those of her friend’s.
“The birth is late. There’s no sign of sickness. You haven’t even started having contractions, although it’s not a sure indicator of anything. Your cravings are unusual- even impossible for a pony. They’re very late in your pregnancy, when they should have subsided months ago.Your body is still trying to gather up proper nutrition for the foal, maybe. I don’t know. It could all be unrelated. All I know is that you two are... not the usual breeding pair. I can’t be responsible for giving an accurate estimate of time to birth in a case that no one’s ever heard of before! It could be tomorrow, it could be a month from now! There’s no spells for-”
Dash cuts in with a hoof on her shoulder as Twilight’s voice continues to raise in pitch and the scholarly mare’s eyes begin to water up.
“I’m... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just can’t help here.”
Rarity rises and plods over to her friend’s side, hoof around the now sniffling pony’s shoulder.
“It’s... It’s alright Twilight. Honestly. I never meant to blame you for this. I know you’re doing the best you can. It’s just as you said, isn’t it?”
She looks to you for help and you nod. The foal will come when she comes, no sooner or later. Twilight nods and clears her throat, wiping her eyes.
“There are no spells for checking the foal’s development. Health and gender, as you know, are determinable. You can check the health of anypony. It’s dangerous magic to put spells directly on the foal though. Anything more determinate than gender is... just not possible.”
Rarity nods. She knows. You’ve both known since the start of the pregnancy. You’d just both had your fingers and hooves crossed that the potential uncertainty would never arise. Now that it’s here, everyone involved has taken the guilt in some way or another. You slip on your coat as Rarity politely excuses the both of you and you say your goodbyes. Twilight reminds you to come and get her if you need any help, and you nod and duck out into the chill of the autumn afternoon.

Once out of the tree house she huddles up to you. It’s almost a twenty five minute walk from the library to the boutique. At first the distance had scared you all so much that Twilight and Dash had been determined to stay in the guest room of the boutique rather than leave anything to chance. After the first two days of nothing however, they’ve moved back out. You smile and put a hand on Rarity’s mane as you remember the sleepless nights you’ve shared in the last week. Sex has been nonexistent of course, and you’ve forced her to get rest, but it just hasn’t taken. You muse that it’s probably why her nerves are on edge, but you’re broken from your idle thoughts by the sound of her clearing her throat. She stares up at you and you adjust her powder blue scarf a bit.
“Quit that. Quit fidgeting with me. You know I don’t like it.”
You nod and put your hands back in your pockets.
“I didn’t mean for you to put them away. Now you’ll sulk like a child the entire way home.”
You let one hand out from its warm home and allow it to wander to the back of her neck. You begin rubbing as you walk.
“What did I just say? You’ll mess up my coat. Stop it.”
You retreat once more and she sighs and bites the sleeve, pulling your back out to hang at your side. You stop walking and stare at her. Is she intentionally being insane?
“Insane? So I’m a crazy pony now?”
No. But she’s sure doing a great impression of one.
“You think this is funny? Honestly?”
No. But it’s not horrible either. She shouldn’t take out her anxiety on Twilight. You can take it.
“She was asking for it.”
You frown.
“What? Acting like she can’t check. She can.”
It’s too dangerous.
“And not doing anything isn’t?”
You sigh and look up at the sky.
“Look at me.”
You look down into her face and she’s trembling.
“It’s... It’s not Twilight’s faut. It’s my fault. If I’d just said that I was craving the meat from the beginning. If I’d just admitted it and eaten it sooner, our foal might be nice and healthy and she wouldn’t need any nutrients.”
You kneel down and let her step into your arms. You hold her there, misty breath gently pushing at her hair while she rigidly refuses to cry.
This isn’t her fault. It’s nopony’s. It’s not her fault any more than it’s your fault for being different and making things complicated.
“It’s not your fault for being different.”
Exactly.
“Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault.”
Yes.
“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”
She finally starts to sob again and you feel yourself choke up too. Before long you’re gently shushing her between attempts to blink away more tears, but they keep rolling down onto her coat.
Drops of rain begin to pitter down onto her back and she stiffens immediately.
“Need to get home.”
You brush the last of her tears off of her face and she smiles.
It’s not her fault. The foal will come when she’s good and ready, and not before.
“Can we curl up by the fire together tonight? I know you won’t stay in bed anyway. I want to be with you.”
You nod and hurry back to the house, her borderline phobia of the rain forcing you both in a beeline through any obstacle that might be in your way. You never thought you’d know fear like hers, but you know it now. You’ve been far too worried for her at night to truly sleep. Naps throughout the day are manageable, but only when fatigue forces itself on you. Even now your sore eyes are begging to be shut, but you know the minute you lay down your mind will take off, that your nerves will dominate you. Dash has been so excellent during those times, creeping soundlessly into the house and playing cards or chatting with you by the fireside until you finally fall asleep on the couch. Every morning, barely two hours of sleep taken, you’ve been awoken by Rarity coming downstairs in search of breakfast.
The minute you’re in the door of the boutique you strip off your wet clothes.
“Rain wasn’t scheduled for today. What in Equestria was Dash thinking? And it came on so suddenly. The sky was clear only a minute ago.”
Yes, it was. As she shimmies off and makes for a warm shower you imagine that it’s almost as if somepony meant to help you both hide your tears.

By the time you make it to the shower she’s already washing the shampoo out of her mane and starting to condition. She smiles as you climb in next to her and her hooves reach for your member. The suddenness of it all leaves you stepping back, and she pouts.
“Don’t you want to play with me?”
It’s not that. She’s just... shifting gears very suddenly.
“I know. I thought maybe we could play around a bit.”
No. No, she hasn’t wanted sex since the day the baby was due. What’s she after?
“I- what? Can a lady not want something?”
You shake your head. Not this. Her reasons were all too clear. It’s messy. Namely, it would be embarrassing if anything else came out during the birth besides a foal. Stray liquids can remain for longer than it ever seems they could. She made it clear that the foal wouldn’t come into the world to that.

“Well yes but... I know it’s not been good for you lately. Sleeping. It’s hard for you. I know it is.”

You can’t help but laugh.

“If I do this for you, maybe you’ll sleep for a bit today. I can wake you if something happens.”

You shake your head, but her hoof’s immediately on your member. It forces you to pull back and you stumble against the wall of the shower as she turns her immense bottom to face you.

“Look at these big, beautiful haunches. Look at the way they sway and move. Only a proper lady can move her hips in such a way. Most males would kill to have such an exemplary... booty.”

You laugh once again. Booty? She actually said booty?

“I... I can be sexy.”

You grin. Of course she can be sexy. You let your hands grip her flanks and they vanish into the immense expanse of her butt. She moans and sinks to her knees.

“Maybe you can do something for me, then. Milk me, yes? That would be nice.”

Milk her? You milked her an hour ago before you went over to Twilight’s house.

“I know. I’m putting out so much now... They’re positively bursting.”

You help her onto her side and discover that she’s far from exaggerating. She doesn’t have breasts anymore, she has udders. They’re so swollen with milk that just the touch it takes to stiffen her nipples causes milk to leak. She moans again and you squeeze gently, jets of the white liquid spurting into the tub and down the drain.

“Waste... It’s such a waste.”

You agree and start to suckle at her teat. She’s moaning immediately, close proximity to her quickly heating privates telling you that she’s enjoying it far more than she’d like to admit. You gently tease and tug at the other one with your hand, letting more milk spurt out.

“You can’t have your fun with them, alright? I want your... I want it in my mouth.

With care you spoon up to her in the bowl of the tub, her hoof wandering to your erection while you continue to milk her. The entire process takes almost a half an hour before things are finally settled down. You rise and rinse out the tub with handfuls of water while she clears the conditioner from her mane and yawns.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you. Just want to do it downstairs so you can lay down. You’ll enjoy it more then.”

You shut off the water and towel her grand body off before hurrying downstairs to dry by the fireplace. She chases after you with a laugh.

“You’re getting water everywhere! Come back here and clean up these puddles and towel off before you catch your death of a cold!”

By the time she bounds down the stairs and catches up to you the game has changed. You turn around and growl playfully at her and she shrieks and canters away, but she’s too slow. You scoop her into your arms and smother her in kisses as she continues to laugh. When you set her down she’s out of breath and trying still to talk to you.

“I’m... I’m so glad. I thought... well it’s silly, but sometimes you feel like you’ll just never be happy again.”

You kiss her horn again and she stares gratefully up at you.
“Thank you... thank you for making me laugh.”
A hoof grips your manhood gently and she leads you over to the fireplace, easing you onto the floor in front of it before wrapping her lips around it.

“You need one good sleep before the foal. I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. Is she feeling ok? The foal could be a week from now.

“Hmmm... Well then, we’ll do this every night until... But it doesn’t matter.”

Doesn’t matter? Why not?

You don’t get any conventional reply. You’re gulped down her throat and forced to watch as she begins her aggressive bobbing up and down. The week’s stress floats to the back of your mind as she continues to suckle harder at your aching member. There’s only a few minutes between the beginning and the end, but it’s quite a spectacular ending. The explosion of your orgasm leaves her slurping and gulping for over a minute, and there’s still hardness by the time you’re done.

“Use my... here. Hold on.”

She rolls onto her back and you barely avoid gasping. How are her breasts so big already?

“They... they do this. It’s horrible. When I wake up in the morning, I have to milk them for an hour in the tub. I didn’t want to bother you with it, you get so little sleep as it is... In no time they’ll be just as big as they were up there, but after a whole night without milking they’re practically dragging the ground. I can’t imagine how much this foal is supposed to drink.”

You whistle and place your still stiff cock between them, pressing her mammaries together around it. Milk dribbles out and into the cleavage you’ve created, and soon you’re riding the slickened globes with gritty determination. Each thrust and pumping of your hips leaves you grunting, and she whispers at you encouragingly the entire time.

“Don’t forget... in my mouth. I want it in my mouth... Mmmmnnnhhh... Feels good. So good. You’re rubbing my special spot...”

You eye where you’re rubbing her clit with each thrust and tighten your grip, causing milk to spray up onto your chest. She lets out a heaving shudder and sigh and you ask her if she came.

“I... Yes... Oh I’m a shameful naughty mare.”

You slap her flank. She’s a bad girl. Is she sure she wants your treat again?

“Yes... Yes please.”

You bite your lip, holding on as long as possible, dick buried in the mounds of ivory and pink shining tit. At last you draw back and shuffle awkwardly around to her, and she clamps her mouth around it, gulping down the last of your seed as you release it into her mouth. Pleasure sweeps through your body and you sink to your knees and ease onto your back. She follows you, swallowing intently, mouth never leaving your manhood. As soon as you’re on your back she straddles you.
“Still hard... good. Good, that’s good. Goodness... you’ll tire us both out.”
Again?
“Mmmhmm. Again.”
And she slides down, the warmth of her womanhood enveloping you.
“You can’t... not inside, understand?”
You nod, and are rewarded with a careful bounce up and down, the clap of her bottom landing on your legs filling the room followed quickly by an incredible and sudden moan.
“All the way... it’s all the way... hitting the inside... the edge... Ohhhhh.”

You can feel it too. Despite the immensity of her thick backside, she’s heavy enough now to make each slam flatten and compress her buttcheeks until you hit the wall of her cervix as she rides you.
“I... nnnhhhh... help me lift.”
You grip handfuls of her haunches and heave and she rises quickly and lands back down, over and over.
“It’s.... nnnhhhaaaaa.”
You drive up this time and she cries out, tears springing into her eyes, reducing to biting her lip and moaning. You shake your head, wanting more speed, and push her off and onto her knees.
“Mindful of the babiiiieee”
She can’t finish the sentence before you’re slamming her with strength you didn’t know you had, managing to thrust hard enough to bump her cervix with each high speed slam. The sound of her body slapping roughly against yours fills the room, and only the sharp moans she’s letting out with each bump can overpower the sound. You grip handfuls of her haunches and lean down to kiss at her enormous and broad back. In your hands you feel her flanks jiggle and shake in response to every pounding thrust. Deep inside her you can feel the dull ache in your cock returning, but you push it back to the back of your mind.
“Ffffffuuuuck. Cum inside. Cum inside me!”
You slap her ass and shout over the sound of your bodies clapping against one another. She knows better. She doesn’t want that.
“I do... I doooo. Twilight said it can help start labor...”
You roll your eyes. That’s not true.
“It iiiis. There’s annnnnnhhhhhhh.... in your cum... inside meee.... loosens.... relaaaaxes.”
You pick up the pace and shake your head. Is she going crazy again?
“I won’t be mad later.... I promise. Pleeeeeaase.”
You don’t need another promise, or another invitation. The conversation has been far too distracting, and you can’t hold out in any case. You orgasm in waves just as she does, and her milk spurts and sprays in puddles. You force yourself all the way up to the hilt, burying your shaft inside her and feeling the very edges of the inside of her as you coat them in your seed. She moans and lets out a sigh as you finally slide out and flop onto your back, consciousness begging to fade as your exertion from the sex finally overpowers you. You feel distantly as she snuggles her body up against yours, but the haze of hormones that just washed in and out has drained the last of your strength. True to her expectations, you let yourself fall asleep before guilt or fatigue or worry can catch you.

Her hoof nudging you snaps you from a rare and dreamless sleep. The fire’s gone out and the dusky rays of sun are creeping in the window. You groggily pull her closer, kissing her cheek. At your side she pushes back. You laugh and playfully kiss her again. She’s wonderful.

“Darling, wake up. Please?”

There’s something in her voice. Anticipation? Fear? You sit up and rub your eyes, arms pulling her in for a quick snuggle.

“No cuddling. My water’s just broken.”

That’s your cue. The tightness in your stomach floods in and you bound to your feet tripping and stumbling, groping about for a light to get a better look at her. When it clicks on she’s staring at you with an eerie calmness about her. There’s no yelling, no signs of pain, no signs of anything but a small puddle on the floor below her.

Why didn’t she tell you sooner?

“I thought it might be... might be a false labor.”

You roll your eyes. How long does she have?

“Only been about a half an hour since the contractions started-”

A half an hour?

“Yes. Don’t shout. Contractions mean nothing... they could have begun gradually a week in advance before they started to speed up and actually mean something. Anyway, we should have some time before things become a bigger concern. I’m not that far in yet. The whole thing will take over an hour to get set to real labor, and Twilight said we should have hours of quickening contractions even then. We’ve still got plenty of time, so go fetch Twilight. Quickly, please?”

Twilight?

Your head is swimming. What if you don’t make it in time? That’s a freaking long run.

“I know darling, I know. You’re just going to have to do your best. There’s no true time limit. I promise. You can make it easily. Once you get there Twilight can likely just flash herself and you back to my side.”

She smiles and tilts her head as the debate rolls around in your mind. Finally you nod and stand up. Is she sure she’ll be alright?

“Yes. Please, don’t tarry. I don’t like being home alone.”

You nod vigorously. She could come with you.

“I... I don’t want to move too much. I waited too long, I’m sorry.”

You can carry her.

“No way. Not happening. Way too far. Just go.”

But there has to be some middle ground. You scream for Rainbow Dash, but she doesn’t appear. Rarity’s eyes narrow.

“Please. Go, and don’t worry about me. Get Twilight, and I’ll try to get comfortable.”

You scoop her up as carefully as you can, slow steps leading you to her chair before you ease her into it. She remains wordless as you go through the motions, only speaking up once she’s seated.

“There. I’m comfortable now. Put on a coat and some pants and get Twilight.”
You look down at your nude figure. Right. Clothes.
In minutes you’re bounding back down the stairs and into the sitting room. You shoot her a glance to make sure she’s ok, and she stares up at you. You promise you’ll be back and gulp back your fear before bounding out the door and into the streets.

The fact that you forgot your shoes doesn’t register. The fact that it’s cold and not raining anymore doesn’t settle into your mind. The short pony sized fences in your way are jumped, the gardens plodded through, the smooth cobblestone of the streets a mere glimpse as you bound with all speed toward Twilight’s library. You slog through puddles that leave water and mud splashed up the backs of your legs until your pants are dripping and chafing. It’s almost a full ten minutes before you hear her voice, and you’re not sure how long she’s been shouting at you or flapping at your side.
“HEY. DUDE. YO.”
Dash flaps breathlessly at your side.
“Been chasing you since you shouted for me. Is this it?”
You hug her, she’s amazing. This is it. Yes.
“I’ll grab Twi. Go back, and hurry.”

You thank her and focus all your thoughts on getting back to Rarity’s side. Around you the world is a blur of color, nothing is taken in. “This is it.” What a way to say it. Nothing will be the same in a few hours, for better or worse. You push the worst into the back of your mind. This is going to be fine. Twilight’s there. She’s got to be there by now. Right on time Dash zips up to you.
“She’s getting her junk together. You’re sure this is for real?”
Definitely.
“Man, woah. Want a lift?”
She’ll go too slow with you in her arms.
“Too slow? Still gonna go faster than you’re going.”
No. You want her to get to Rarity. Someone needs to be with Rarity. She looks at you, head tilted for a moment before nodding and putting on a burst of speed that leaves no time for sound or vision to track her. The streak of her mane and tail are all you can see as she soars past trees and houses and off to the looming cluster of buildings that marks the neighborhood you and your wife share.
You, on the other hand, have to stop for breath. Your lungs ache, and you’re sure you’ve never run this far this fast. You choke and force back vomit, gagging and sputtering. The thought of your wife and foal burns into your mind and you force yourself to at least walk. The walk becomes a jog. The jog becomes a determined burst of sprinting. You can taste cold and bile, your nose is running, your sides are aching, but the door of the boutique finally arrives in your view. Outside it Dash sits pale faced.
“It’s already starting dude. I can’t watch this kinda stuff. It’s way too... Uhhh... It’s not my kinda thing. Y’know?”
You nod. She stayed with Rarity until Twilight got there?
“Yep. She got there a couple minutes after I did. Called you an idiot for not just sending a note the magic way and got to work. We got towels, we got hot water, Twilight’s sanitized the whole place top to bottom with magic. She kicked me out after that, but I don’t really uhhh... I mean, it’s not my show, y’know?”
You smile and muss her mane up. Is she sure no one’s allowed in?
“I’d think there’d be a couple exceptions made if we wanted.”
Maybe not. Maybe it’s time to... well...
“You’re scared, huh? No idea what’s in there?”
There’s a scream from within the room and shouting.
“Oh. No. I get it. You’re scared ‘cause you totally know what’s in there. Maybe not exactly, but don’t tell me you’re scared of committing now...”
Your head swims. She’s right, of course. The last little inklings of doubt have arrived. You can run away now, right? The lunatic in your head screams and roars. Settling down with a kid? Too real. Get out while you can. Screw it. But the lunatic is nothing compared to the wave of fear for the mare screaming just beyond that door. You silence everything but that fear, and hold on to just it. It’s real. It tells you your true priorities.
“You gonna be ok?”
You nod. This is it.
“Good. Go kick some flank dude.”
You open the door.

Rarity and Twilight both swivel to you. Your wife squats awkwardly over a towel, tears and sweat streaming down her face. Behind you Dash clicks the door shut and you inwardly thank her. For a moment all the insecurities in the world had risen up, but now there’s only this room, only one place in all of time that you would occupy if you were given a choice of any other place to be. You walk over to her side and she winces again. Twilight eyes you clinically, but takes a cautious step away from Rarity as you approach.
“Dilation's happening faster than normal. Much faster now that it’s come to it. It’s supposed to take hours.”
You shake your head. Why is it happening this way?
“WHO FUCKING CARES? IT HURTS. IT’S YOUR FAULT. DAMNIT IT’S YOUR FAULT. YOU SAID IT WOULDN’T HURT THIS SOON.”
You turn your gaze to Rarity and then look back to Twilight, only to find the mare backing away from your furious and screaming wife. You ask Twilight if she’s ok as you cup Rarity’s face in your hands.
“It hurts... It hurts... oh please... each time it contracts it hurts so much.”
You nod and push her hair out of her eyes, turning to the cowering unicorn behind you. Can’t she give Rarity a spell or some medicine to ease the pain?
“I’m not sure... this birth is so far from normal... it’s dangerous to do the unknown. I don’t want to do it until we have to.”
“WE HAVE TO. IT HURTS. IT HURTS, AND IT’S NOT FAIR. HE DOESN’T HAVE TO HURT.”
You kiss her horn. It’ll be ok. She’s braver than either of you. She knows you’d wimp out here.
“I know... I know...”
She screams again and starts to shiver. You hold her steady and turn back to Twilight. Your midwife can’t be scared now. You need her. Rarity’s in a lot more pain than Twilight’s ever seen her friend in, but that can’t scare her. Pain makes ponies behave differently than she’s used to. That’s all this is.
“I know... in ten years I’ve never heard her say words like-”
“OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE. REALLY? GET OVER HERE TWILIGHT SPARKLE. I’M TRYING TO FORCE A FOAL OUT AND YOU’RE CRYING OVER SOME BAD LANGUAGE?”

Twilight straightens up and closes in.
“A-alright... well even if there’s pain, she shouldn’t necessarily be pushing. It means there’s contractions, and it might mean she’s just contracting on the foal’s horn. It means I need to make sure she’s... fully dilated before she pushes.”
Twilight approaches and stoops down behind your wife, hoof searching, examining as Rarity whimpers in your arms.
“Alright... Alright, she’s not dilated fully. Those are stage one contractions. How far apart are they?”
Rarity winces and starts to breathe the way she was instructed to. Twilight nods in understanding.
“Stage two’s just begun then... We could have an hour or so of this. The contractions won’t pick up quickly, but they’ll apparently hurt like crazy when they do. Breathe as steadily as you can... if you stiffen up, walk around a bit... just tap your hoof on his arm if you need water. If you need to pee or anything... there’s a bucket. I know it’s not dignified, but...”
Rarity’s nod is all Twilight needs. The mare is finally too busy and the suddenness of the contractions too sharp for her to really talk. You hold her there for an hour waiting for nature to take its course. On several occasions you step out of the room to get her water. When you step out the final time, Twilight accompanies you.
“I’m scared... it shouldn’t have hurt her like that. She yelled at me... she swore.”
You nod. You expected both.
“But not this soon. The pain shouldn’t have been that bad in stage one labor. And it’s happening very fast.”
You ask her if it’ll be a problem.
“We’ll see... Some labors just go quickly. I think the pain is the horn, somehow. Normally first stage takes hours though... Some mares can actually sleep during it until the contractions get too quick. This isn’t some romance novel, birth doesn’t happen in minutes. It’s a full day ordeal, but somehow she’s flying through it.”

You ask Twilight what she can do if things happen too fast.
“Well, nothing... maybe the last week has just been the build up to this. I wouldn’t be surprised. Things took their time, now it’s hurrying up... It’s all been very unusual.”
As if waiting for the proper moment, Rarity lets out a growl from the other room.
“Is she pushing? She shouldn’t be pushing! Has it been an hour? It has been an hour!”
You both hurry back into the sitting room where Rarity squats over a towel.
“Are you pushing?”
“Hhhuuuaaahhhh”
“Rarity? Are you pushing?”
“Ffffffffffff”
“Rarity?”
“Huuuaaaaah”
“Rarity!”
“Ffffffffuuuuuck no. No, not yet. Check me.”
Twilight ducks behind her and examines once more, hooves a blur. You look away politely.
“It... it looks right. You’re dilated fully, I think.”
“Fffffffffffuuuuuuhhhhhou THINK?”
“Just push when you feel a contraction. And don’t worry about what happens. I don’t think I have to tell you, skip on being a lady. If you push hard enough to soil anything we’ll replace it, we’ll clean you up, we’ll take care of you. Focus everything on pushing.”
Twilight snaps to you, face stern suddenly, drawn up to her full height. The light in the room seems to creep into her, and her horn begins to glow as she checks on Rarity.
“When she’s at it, keep her focused. Don’t let her get self conscious if she makes a mess. Keep her mind on pushing. When there’s a contraction, push as hard and as much as you can. Try to space it in threes if you can.”
You remind her you can’t push.
“I know that. You know that too. Don’t be dense. Just do it!”
You grit your teeth and dry Rarity’s sweating face just as she groans. The first set of pushing begins and she’s panting by the end of it. A handful of minutes pass and she’s screaming this time, pushing with all her strength, leaning into your body. Tears stream down her face and you work hard to keep it clean and clear. She squints as sweat drips into her eye. She halts pushing and breaths doggedly.
“Can’t you... fucking do... something about that? Are you that incompetent?”
You shake your head and towel her face off again, looking politely away. She can be snippy, she’s just soiled the towel under her. Twilight replaces it immediately and in minutes Rarity’s pushing again as if nothing had happened.
“I can see the head... come on Rarity, you can do it!”
Rarity pants and pushes once more before the contractions cease.
“It went back in, I can feel it.”
“It happens, don’t sweat it. Come on, you’re doing great!”
You kiss her horn as Twilight gives her encouragement.
“Just a little more. This next time we’ll get to see that baby for sure!”
A few minutes pass and more pushing begins. This time Twilight squeals with glee.
“That’s it, that’s it!”
You encourage her, whispering to her to push harder.
The process repeats multiple times, but at last Rarity heaves a sigh.
“It’s still... not done. I need a rest.”
“It’s alright, sit it out for a few contractions.”
You ask Twilight if it’ll hurt to do that.
“No... maybe... I’m not sure. I skimmed that part.”
You can’t tell if Rarity laughs or sobs in your arms.
“You skimmed it? You? Twilight Sparkle, you skipped something? You skimmed this?”
“I know it’s what you’re supposed to do. Quite whining and do it!”
“Not whining... I’m... Do you want to hear...”
“What are you arguing about? Focus!”
And though pain grips her face, Rarity nods and tries to gather her strength. The contractions subside once more and she sighs and takes deep breaths until they begin anew, with her pushing the whole way. In between contractions Twilight offers advise, sometimes ill received.
“When you push, hold your breath and count to ten before building up for another push. Try for three per-”
“Will you shut up? I’ll push exactly however I can whenever I can.”
Twilight nods.
“You’re right. Just... be careful, don’t overdo it. You’ve almost got the whole head, and there should be a nice healthy foal to guide out past that point.”
You don’t dare look at what Twilight’s looking at. You just stroke your wife’s face and offer her encouragement as she gathers herself up and pushes hard. She’s rewarded as Twilight takes up a stance and begins to help her guide over the next few sets of contractions and pushing.
“This is it Rarity. One more push. Come on, you can do it!”
There’s a final scream from Rarity that turns into sobs, but it’s not the only scream in the room. Beneath her a foal curls up on the towel crying. Twilight begins to clean the baby up as Rarity works to pass the placenta. In only a few minutes she’s on her side panting and squinting.
“It’s... where’s the foal?”
You kiss her head and ask her if she’s ok.
“I’m ok. Where’s the foal? Have you seen her?”
“She’s healthy! One hundred percent normal, it seems!”
You both whirl around. Normal? Who cares? Who ever cared? How could it matter? On the floor the foal tries to stand on four hooves and you hurry over to her. Twilight stops you and you glare at her.
“First rise is important. Every foal has to do it. They have to do it on their own.”
You swallow and watch as the snow white foal finally takes shakily to her hooves. She’s lanky, and lean. Her violet mane is matted to her head, a shock of your own hair color dashed through it. As soon as she’s up you run over to her, scooping her crying figure into your arms and carrying her over to Rarity.
“You need a name.”
Both of you look over to Twilight Sparkle.
“I know you said you had something in mind Rarity but... Are you sure? Think on it hard, make sure it’s appropriate before you use it. Think of what got you here. Think of what made you the pony you are today, Rarity.”
Rarity nods. She never told you the name she’s been imagining, the whole point is for you both to name the foal independently. That’s how the naming goes. You had a thousand names picked too, but they all float away as you look at the pony in your arms.
The experience getting here? The experience getting here has been only one thing. The life you have can only be summed up in one word. The foal you hold in your arms, this tiny bundle of lovely unicorn snuggling between her mother and you, eyes squinted shut for fear of the light, can only be described in a single word.
And is if by magic, you and Rarity say the same name. You give no thought to why she picked it, but you know why you did. In hindsight, the name has great meaning for her too, but alone and left to your own devices the word passes your lips because it’s the only word worthy of your daughter.

“Unique.”

“Well then. Unique, I welcome you to Equestria. May the sun shine merrily upon you on your happiest days, and the stars and moon illuminate your path in all times lightless.”

The magic in the air is palpable, and as if on cue the foal opens her eyes in the soft illumination of the room. Only they’re not average eyes. They’re your eyes. Rarity snuggles up to her. You feel your breath draw in, and you’re sure you forget to breath, have to remind your heart to beat.
“Do I need to tell you?”
No. It’s some sort of miracle. Ponies have such vibrant eyes, nothing like the dull earthtones of your species. But Unique’s eye color matches yours. It’s no pastel shine, no shiny burst of color. Simple, plain, deep, lovely. In those enormous pools you can see your own reflection.
“You know, that’s one of my favorite parts of you... too...”
Rarity sighs and snuggles closer to both of you, and you ease the crying foal more fully into her arms. She rolls onto her side and lets the foal suckle for a moment before wincing.
“Teeth. Is she supposed to... have teeth?”
Twilight stoops down and examines her.
“She’s got... never seen these before. She has canines. Real meat-eating canines. Like him.”
You shake your head. You weren’t born with canines, your teeth grew in that way.
“Hmm... Interesting. She’s got a fairly mixed physiology doesn’t she? I wonder if her stomach could handle meat someday. I bet... I bet that’s why you were craving it, Rarity!”
Rarity nods.
“So then, the extra milk... Probably-”
Dash shushes Twilight.
“She looks amazing man.”
The rainbow maned mare smiles down at you where you lie with your foal and reclining wife. She stands by her partner, straight and strong. Twilight sighs and slumps against her.
You turn to Rarity and ask her if she’s still willing to go through with the plan you two had.
“Yes... before I get some rest... and I need my rest... We’ve a favor to ask both of you. I hope it’s not too much pressure on your relationship, but... I simply must ask before I rest.”
Twilight and Dash swallow and nod. You grin and turn to your wife. They can’t not know.
“I know. But they need to know officially. Every foal has an appointed Solar and Lunar parent... to see to the foal if something were to happen... to us. You know it’s been on our mind a lot... something happening to us. We want those parents to be you two.”
Twilight and Dash exchange looks.
“You sure, dude?”
You grin and nod.
“I...”
“Right.. Uhhh...”
“Ok.”
Dash turns to Twilight, shocked at her quick answer.
“It would be my honor, Rarity. I’ll protect Unique no matter what.”
Dash straightens up and moves her hair out of her eyes. She laughs a forced laugh.
“Twi’s jumped right in... but uhh... Dude, I’m really impressed... I’ll do it, if you’re sure.”
You nod. You’re sure. It has to be her. She has to watch after Unique if something happens to you.
“I will. I promise. No matter what, she’ll always have me, too.”
You nod. You know she will. You knew should would the minute the little foal was born.
Beside you, Rarity starts to drift off in your arms. As the foal curls up against the warmth of her mother you cuddle yourself up to both of them, urging them to move one last time. Twilight and Dash sigh and ease into Rarity’s recliner as you clean up your wife and the foal and help them move to the sofa, the stairs far too much an ordeal for this minute. As you cuddle up to them, Rarity rests her head in your lap.
“Do you see?”
You shush her and brush her hair out of her eyes.
“This was it... You can’t always be afraid for me... sometimes there’s pain neither of us can take from the other. I didn’t want you to be scared, but you weren’t.”
You shush her again and kiss her horn. You were terrified, but she’s right about one thing. You choke back tears. You wanted to help her so badly, but what could you do? She had to take it all, just to give you this miracle. This moment is hers, it owes to one brave pony. You brush her still thick sides with your hand. You tell her, as she starts to breathe deeper, that you love her. You’re proud to be her husband. You thank her, so much. It’s thanks to her. You’re happy to be a father at last. At your side she shifts and kisses you goodnight with a smile.
“Father at last? You’ve been a father all along.”

Chapter 1

=====================================================================

*Part 1: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Angry Sex*

The lights are off when you finally get home, performing the ritual key jiggling required to enter your low-rent apartment. You try awkwardly and silently to remove your coat without taking off your bag, finally placing it on the coat rack alongside a few of your lighter jackets and her saddles. The twelve hour shift you just wrapped up has you hanging your head, and you slip a messenger bag full of work related papers and mail you picked up on your way into the building off of your shoulders and onto the kitchen table. Slouching down in one of the chairs, you struggle wearily with the envelopes filled with bills and junk mail. It's going to take an hour of sifting through them and balancing a checkbook before you can even think of bed, and it'll only be worse when the baby arrives.

This thought inspires a cautious glance down the windowless and dark hallway to where the bedroom door hangs slightly ajar. You wonder how she's doing, regretting the lack of time you two have spent together over the last few months. When things started, they seemed so fun...but as the rigors of time spent in close proximity have taken their toll, you've had your share of fights, arguments, and half-hearted concessions. You're not sure when it happened, but marriage quickly lost its appeal.

A bit distracted from your evening chore, you get up and anxiously wander the room. It’s been a while since you had fun; a while since you got to sit down and laugh like you used to. Your hand reaches out, unconsciously touching a plastered spot on the wall that you were slammed into the first time an argument got physical. Your face twists a bit, a mask of disappointment with yourself and her at the memory of it. Next to the patched up reminder is a shelf filled with both of your things, attentively dusted by her. Pictures of her and her friends, her sister, and you adorn one half while your side is entirely barren. As you reach out to pick up a picture it slips and you fumble with it, making no small amount of noise. Embarrassed, you try to set it right, worried for some reason that someone will notice it being out of place.

A sound from the hallway draws your attention. Steady, heavy hoof falls bring her into view. Even roused from bed, there's a beauty about her. Her hair isn't as messy as one would expect and her eyes - even in the dark - don't carry the look of someone who just woke up. You can imagine she's been awake and waiting for you for some time. Sheepishly, you wonder why you've snuck into your own home, and whether or not it was truly consideration for her that made you afraid to attract her attention. Her lovely purple mane frames her face - partially covering those azure eyes in the dark room - making it hard to gauge her expression. As she speaks, the tone of her voice conveys her mood well enough.

“I thought you were going to be home earlier tonight? What sort of man did I marry?”
You try to mumble an excuse, but it's cut short

“Planning to leave me up waiting all night again? It's terribly improper to test a lady’s patience you know. Oh the things I could be out doing all day long, but I'm here in this house - and just why do you think that is?”
Her head tilts down, drawing your attention to her swollen stomach and widened hips.
The cause of both of your stress lies curled in her womb. Your long hours, her fear of leaving the house, it all comes back to the same thing. It's the cause of so many things. You can feel it, and so can she.

“Oh darling I know it's not easy to work all day, but I haven't a soul to talk to! It's simply criminal, like being locked in some dungeon, waiting all day to be liberated by a conversation that might very well not be coming. How would that make you feel?”
Feelings aren't your strong suit. They never have been. Your eyes wander from her gaze, wishing this conversation could be over. It isn't. She positions herself in your field of vision again, this time closer to you. Her voice rises.

“Oh come now! Look at me. LOOK AT ME when I talk to you! Honestly, the nerve! I've waited ALL DAY for months now. You can't come home and give me anything, can you? What did you bring home? More empty promises!? Or more of these?”
Her tail slaps the table behind her with perfect control and strength, scattering the bills around the room. Your shoulders tense at the suddenness of it, the atmosphere in the room growing more intense. You push her aside, tired of the silliness, tired of the bills, tired of the fighting, tired of it all, and you bend to scoop the letters up. Behind you, you hear a frustrated whinny.

“What are you DOING?! I am trying to talk to you.”
A none too gentle bump of her nose as you bend to pick up the bills sends you off balance, and you catch yourself with your spare arm, resorting to landing on your side. You're past irritated now. You steele yourself as she comes toward you, bringing her weight to bear on your torso. Despite your strength, her weight and the angle you're lying at make resistance impossible. She brings you to the ground and pins your shoulders with her hooves. Something wet touches your cheek.

She's crying. Quiet, no sobs, no shaking. Just tears.

“All day, I wait for you. WE wait for you. Will it always be like this? I have needs, I want to be seen! So much time spent every day on this hair, this coat, these hooves. What good is it all, if I'm to be in here forever, and you're to be out there forever?”
You reach an arm up, touching her cheek, your anger subsiding. She leans in, and you share a brief kiss. She tastes of minty toothpaste, obviously having meant to go to bed hours ago. You can't imagine tasting much better, having fueled yourself on coffee since the early morning.

“It's just... oh dear. Oh MY. You smell like out there... You taste like out there... Why? Why is it so unfair?”
You try to quiet her down with another kiss, but she pushes you back down, hooves back on your shoulders.

“It's not FAIR! You've so much energy all day long, and none left for me when you get home. Am I to clean the same four shelves all day, read the same three magazines? Give me something... give me...”

Her nose is close to your face now, breath hot and trickling down your neck.

“Give me anything.”
You hear a zipping noise, and look down. Her tail has already gotten your jeans down after worming its way around her ample belly and is now hard at work on your belt. Seeing where this is going, and not having the energy for it, you try to maneuver your arms around, but it's no use. They're well and truly pinned.

“Give me what you save up all day. Don't waste it on some five minute bout of pleasure while I'm asleep... You have me. You have the most lovely unicorn in all of Equestria.”
Your belt is now undone, the jeans unbuttoned. She relents from pinning you long enough to get her teeth around the hem of your jeans, tugging and pulling, pitifully maneuvering her normally graceful figure on the floor, off balance by the near-eight months of love you've shared. Between your wriggling to get away and her pulling, she finally succeeds. Your head hits the wall with a loud thump. She's springing back onto you now.

She sits, positioning herself on your lap. Slowly, with a grinding motion to her hips, she strokes your manhood with her lower lips. Each time she rises, a small sticky residue glistens in the low light of the room, and she leans in to deliver a brief kiss before returning to her rhythmic motions. Wanted or not, you're getting hard from the constant stimulation. She's well aware of it too, and picks up her pace.

“That's it darling -nnf. Come now, show me how much you care. Show me what it is you want. Do you want it like I want it? Nfffff. Like I've wanted it all these past months?”
Your arms reach out to stroke her sides, but she doesn't trust you to let her take things all the way. Her ample locks of perfectly groomed hair wrap around your hands, and pin them to the wall behind you. Now with her face closer than ever, she begins to lap at your lips, pressing them apart, working her tongue inside, rubbing around your teeth and pressing against your tongue. She leans out again, and you feel her tail wrap around your legs.

Rising up, she works her way down your body, hot tongue leaving trails of wetness down your torso. She arrives at your cock, now hard and throbbing from the constant attention. In moments, she's working it expertly, your time together having taught her every special spot in the area. Her hooves stroke your testes and the inside of your thighs as her muzzle bobs up and down, working its warmth up and down the slickening pole. You get up to push her off, to take control, finally ready for action, but she misinterprets.

“No!”

With a loud whinny, she whips her body around, tail wrapping around both arms and pinning them to your chest. Her hair has one of your kicking legs, the other flailing awkwardly around, and with much effort she manages to work herself quickly onto your dick.

“This... nfff.. is mine tonight! Mine! MINE!”
With the last cry, she slams herself down forcefully, taking the entire saliva soaked shaft into her warm womanhood. Both of you cry out in pleasure at the sudden filling sensation. You jerk up involuntarily, and clumsily bump into her back, her restraint on your hands at last spent by the suddenness of the invasion. You regain your composure first. You shove her roughly onto her hooves again. She begins to whimper, fearing the rejection, and then cries out in surprise as you thrust into her again.

“Mindful of the bab-iiiieeee” she cries out as you slide out to the tip and thrust back in, each pounding sending tremors through her flanks. You reach under her, hands wrapped around her swollen belly. Each thrust gives it a playful bounce, slamming in and out and driving her forward until her ear is pressed against the carpet. Her forelegs buckle, fetlocks touching her chest, shank and hock hiked high into the air as you lift her, pounding harder as you increase your rhythm.

The warmth of her womanhood is incredible. She grips as hard as she can each time you pull out, making the press back in tight and stimulating. Her muscles spasm around you and relax momentarily, and you can tell she's already cum. Fatigue takes your tired arms and you set her back on the ground, still humping her into the carpet, now with your chest on her back, feeling the warmth of her body under yours. She protests, rolling onto her side to protect the precious package in her womb.

Carefully, you hike up her left leg, gripping her by the shank and thrusting back in at an angle. Her cries of concern turn to moans of pleasure, hooves trying to navigate the awkward angle to play with her clit. You oblige her, spare hand reaching where she can't, and tease at the pink love button. She responds by tightening around you. It's all you can do not to cry out at the sudden tightness, but your mute role in this night's love making goes on unbroken as she whips her tail into your mouth, crying out “Bite down! Bite down on meeeeeeeeYYYYEEEEES.”
You continue to work at her, her legs kicking in pleasure, clawing at the carpet in a most unladylike fashion. You're certain she's chipped a hoof at this point, if not two of them, but you say nothing as she twists her neck in vain to catch a glimpse of the source of all her pleasure. Eventually she settles for burying her face in her hooves, trying to stifle her loud moans.

Your stamina begins to run its course, sweat and her juices streaming down your body. Your shirt is covered in both at this point, clinging to you like a second skin. Gritting your teeth around her tail, you finally reach your climax, juices pouring into her love tunnel. Her body heaves as she tightens around you, feeling the warmth spreading within her, determined to cum again with you. A shudder rocks her body, and her wish is granted; her muscles relax and you pull out of her, flopping down beside her as her body heaves with the effort you've both undertaken. Her swollen stomach rises and falls quickly, and she's panting on her side. You look lustfully at the pony you've been neglecting so much recently. You can feel hardness returning between your legs already. She feels it against her back.

“A-again? Maybe... just a minute... a glass of water... I'm so terribly thirsty... can I have a glass of-”

She's cut off as your mouth meets hers, your wet tongue working its way into her dry mouth. You roll her onto her back, straddling her gently. Your hands rub across her stomach and up her chest, finally cupping her chin as you continue your kiss. She works her legs around your waist as you work your way gently on top of her, minding not to put your weight onto her precious tummy. Your erect member slaps against it by accident, and the feeling is akin to rubbing up against a taut, swollen drum. Both of you look down, and she tries to shake her head as your hands leave her chin and begin to rub over the tightness of that spot. As she reclines on her back sighing at the sensation, your tongue covers every inch of her swollen body. Your hands grip above her flanks, meaty sides abundant there. She whinnies in protest; you know that gripping her love handles makes her feel fat, but you don't care. She apparently feels the same. Desire outweighing argument, her tail twists playfully around your feet and slips in between your toes. After the performance you just gave, a small allowance to explore her body in the dark is deserved.

And explore you do.

Chapter 4

=====================================================================

*Part 4: Pregnant Rarity, Voyerism, Prehensile Tail, Minor Foodplay, Foursome, Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Squirting*

The kitchen smells of chocolate and walnuts. You attempt in vain to navigate the mess she’s made without stubbing your foot somewhere along the way. Pans lie scattered about, the counter-tops are in disarray, and crumbs and powdered chocolate litter the floor. You’re shocked at the departure from the cleanly norm, especially considering the five ponies in your living room. She’s opened up so much in the last few weeks that it’s mystifying; it’s as if you’re observing some other pony from a parallel world whose primary function isn’t cleanliness and organization. You peer carefully over the bar separating the kitchen from the living room, watching her interact with her friends.

The ponies in the other room are enjoying themselves. They drink deeply from the glasses of punch and assorted mixed drinks you’ve laid out for them, laughing loudly at each other’s jokes and stories. Your time knowing them has been interesting and you’ve watched as each settled into her current life. Twilight giggles over a particularly fond memory being recalled by Applejack, and before long the entire apartment is full of their reminiscing laughter. Your wife is in there glowing of course, surrounded on all sides by friends she’s known and had adventures with for years upon end. Occasionally one of the ponies will be invited to lay a hoof on her stomach - an opportunity to feel the foal within her kick in its restless waiting period.

Here, secluded in the kitchen, their memories washing over you, you can’t help but feel you’re an outsider. So much happened between them before your surprising arrival and so much continued to happen without you even as you fell for one of them, married her, and you moved in together. Their long-stretching tales speak of a simpler time, a past when all of today’s pressures and desires would have seemed impossible. Now that they’ve settled into their present lives, you can’t help but watch with keen interest as they discuss times where anything and everything they’d ever wanted could have been possible.

Not that they’re discontented. You’ve had long discussions with the pony you love about the dreams and aspirations she once held. Her expectations have since settled on more reasonable goals, though her strong mind for business and incredible talent for what she does will more than prove themselves in the years to come by both of your estimations. With the boutique closed for remodelling in preparation for your daughter,’s arrival, you’ve both settled on a plan for the future in which she’s allowed to continue her work. Still, in her current state, yours is the role of provider; a role she has willingly accepted. You can’t help but imagine that the other ponies have reached compromises of their own, their present stations pleasant enough to warrant no misgivings about what they could have been or done.

The timer on the oven screeches at you. Shocked at the sudden outburst, you slap at it, not knowing quite what to do. After a few moments of fumbling, and around the time you fear you’ve turned every dial on the oven, she sighs and slides off the couch excusing herself politely to come examine the simple task that you’ve successfully complicated. As she crosses the short distance from the living room to the kitchen, your eyes catch her careful stride, still graceful in spite of her not so customary weight. As she reaches you, one of her eyebrows lifts accusingly.

“Are you trying to burn them? Goodness. Stop fiddling with the timer and pull them out before they singe.”

You sigh, pulling open the oven door as she reaches up and slaps a button you’re sure you’ve pressed at least twice, and the din filling the room ceases. Now you can hear her friends still talking as you open the oven door.

Heat assails your face unexpectedly. It’s surprisingly humid, drawing breath is difficult, and you splutter a bit. You look to the unicorn at your side for support, but she’s too busy chatting around the peninsula that the oven shares to notice your worried glances. With no oven mitts forthcoming, you slip your hand under your shirt, hoping it’s enough to ward off the burning oven rack as you grip it quickly. Succeeding through an artful maneuver of rapid quick-gripped pulls, you inch the rack out until the heat of the cake is almost directly under your leaning figure. The sudden aroma of the delicious confection is overpowering. Pinkie Pie’s recipe is exquisite, and Rarity’s execution of it is exactly what you’d expect from the precision oriented pony.

Excited to try it, you grip the first pan with your shirt-covered hands.

And draw back with a quiet gasp.
Your back bumps against the cabinets behind you, and you blow furiously on your now burning hands. Dropping the handful of shirt proves useless as well, its burning hot surface clinging to your skin and singeing your stomach, eliciting another quick gasp of pain. You’ve got her attention now, and though the conversation continues from the other side of the bar you’re both behind, she’s at your side in an instant.

“Good HEAVENS what have you done?”
Her eyes shift toward the oven racks and the three cake pans magically float off of it before they continue to cook past their time. She sets them down gently on the tiled floor around the oven, horn aglow with the effort, before turning to you. You continue to blow on your hand in rapid bursts, more than a little frustrated that she couldn’t extend that minimal courtesy a moment sooner to save you the trouble and pain. The feeling must be obvious, because she moves her muzzle quickly to your ear, whispering softly into it.

“Oh, Dear, I’m so sorry. I just... it slipped my mind that you might need... Here, let me see them.”

You struggle for a moment to fight the innate urge that keeps your hands clenched to your chest, finally besting it and extending them to her. The skin is red, there’s obviously little damage, but it’s painful nonetheless.

“Poor baby. How is it? Can you still feel with them?”
Your hands extend to her coat, brushing up against it at first before seeking sanctuary in the softness of the texture. She blushes at the sudden touch. The new sensation of feeling is overwhelmed quickly by the screaming nerves in your hands, and you involuntarily rub her, trying to drive out the painful cries of your hands in the abundant pillowy softness she provides. She shivers a bit as your pace increases, your sense of touch only intensifying with the stimulation. Rarity backs away a bit, smiling.
“Let’s get some water on them. Come on now. Hold them still.”

You hold your hands out, and she begins to lick at them, her silky tongue brushing against the aggravated surface of your palms over and over again. The relief is almost instantaneous, and you let yourself slide down against the cool floor tiles as you get more comfortable. Slowly, other sensations return to you. The conversation in the other room slowly drifts back into your ears, and though you’re unable to pick up on the topic, you expect it never skipped a beat despite your unexpected situation.

Rarity continues to work her tongue over your palms with a great deal of interest, shielded from prying eyes as she lends her own soft wetness to the now hypersensitive surface of your hands. The feeling is amazing, and you let out a soft sigh. Her ears perk up as she picks up on it, and she eyes you warily.
“Don’t think this is anything special now. Gracious me, whimpering over such a little thing. Are you a man or a mouse?”
You sigh again, tone shifted to express your disagreement, and she looks at you with a raised eyebrow.
“What? You feel differently?” she asks in a hushed whisper, voice dropping in volume against the loud peels of laughter and storytelling going on in the other room.
“Honestly, acting as though this is some sort of battle scar. Here, look now. It’s not that hot.”
She pauses from her impromptu first aid and dips a hoof into one of the pans of still softened cake and holds it up where you can see it. You’re certain you can see steam coming off of it, but her hooves are resilient, and her coat thick. She spreads a line of the soft and steaming cake across her chest and down her round stomach, ending at one of her widened hips. You distract yourself from her showing off by rubbing the surface of your still burning stomach under your shirt. She lets out a soft tut-tut of her tongue at your lack of attention.
“Just how much of your thin skin did you burn? Honestly, sometimes I feel as if our roles are reversed and I’m forced to be your prince charming.”
She dips her head under your shirt, licking at the still sensitive patch of skin. You let out a quick gasp, not expecting her intrusion. Despite the heat of the room, her nose is cold and her tongue wet and warm. The dichotomy unfolding beneath your shirt causes you to clench your hands, eliciting a sharp gasp as the sudden sensation of burned fingertips pressing into burned palms sends shocks up your arm. You bury them desperately in her thick rolls of flesh surrounding her flanks, rubbing up and down them to soothe your burning. The rubbing gets more desperate as the pain drowns out the softness once more, and your hands scramble about, brushing against her taut stomach, down the incredibly soft insides of her legs, and finally settling between them.
Heat is lost upon you in your current condition, and so it’s the moistness of her womanhood that first alerts you to her arousal. You try to shoot her a confused glance, but she’s buried beneath your shirt. She’s slowly making her way down your stomach, lingering far longer than she needs to, and you ease both of you onto your sides. From there, you awkwardly try to rotate yourself, keeping her head tangled in the mess of your shirt as you get your face to the place where she spread the cake. The scent is amazing, her own vanilla bath salts mingling with the chocolate and walnut just cooling on her glossy, ivory coat. Your tongue slides up and down, her fuzzy texture extending the majority of the baked goodness to your eager tongue. She slips a hoof down her body, trying desperately to maneuver around her stomach to her privates.
Carefully and quietly, you guide her hoof there. She can barely reach around the immense, ballooning expanse of her stomach, and she muffles her gasp in your skin as she reaches her most pleasurable places. You feel the inhale and exhale of breath as she begins to work up as good a motion as she can, her back legs kicking in the air. You rub her tummy gently and encouragingly, eagerly awaiting the desperate gasps that will signal her proximity to orgasm. You fill those moments by playing with her tail, wrapping it around your hand and yanking it gently, each tug eliciting a break in her gasping rhythm. Finally the breaths beneath your shirt grow quick and long, and you feel her body convulsing. You rub her bottom, gripping handfuls of flank as her wetness drips onto her hooves. There’s a nipping at your stomach as she stifles the climax washing over her with a mouthful of your tender and sensitive abs. Her body shakes in your arms, and you keep her quiet, mindful of the conversation in the other room, making sure it doesn’t miss a beat.
It doesn’t.
She cums in your arms, quivering and writhing under your careful supervision, and when she surfaces, her face is flushed and her mane tangled. You straighten it for her as she regains her composure, positively beaming at you. You know how she’s longed to reach herself, your hands an entirely different stimulation than the hooves she raised herself with. You content yourself knowing she got to feel something that she hasn’t felt in many months, and kiss her nose gently. The tender moment breaks as quickly as it comes, Pinkie Pie’s characteristic voice travelling throughout the room and reaching your cloistered section of the kitchen. The others are wondering where you’ve gotten to, your disappearance having been more than a few minutes long.
Rarity straightens herself up quickly, still glistening hooves grabbing the now relatively cool pans. Her wet hooves leave trails of her juices across the cakes, and she recoils, realizing as the afterglow fades what she’s done. You grip her shoulder reassuringly and smile at her, standing up to run your hands under cold water. She joins you, calling out to her friends over her shoulder.
“Apologies, ladies. The cakes were far hotter than initially expected... Just need to run some cold water over my hooves for a moment.”
Various inquiries of concern float into the narrow kitchen and she breathes a sigh of relief between edited explanations, the ruse obviously successful. The ponies in the other room don’t suspect a thing as her now pristine hooves scoop up the pans and she cuts slices for everyone. As you continue to run your genuinely burning hands under the cold faucet, she levitates the plates and trots them out into the living room for her friends, offering more apologies to a chorus of kind assurances.
You walk into the living room and sink into the couch next to her, drying your hands on her coat. This elicits a grumpy look from her, but it fades quickly as you rub your still sensitive hands into her. You observe the others quietly as they continue their conversation, each taking bites of the cake. The first to dig in as always, Pinkie herself comments on the very original flavor, complimenting Rarity for having made the recipe her own. This prompts the others to quickly take a polite bite. Applejack and Fluttershy also grin and smile, offering praises to the flavor and texture before returning to a complex story.
You catch a glance between Twilight and Rainbow Dash as they take a bite. The look goes unnoticed between the preoccupied ponies, but you’re sure Rarity notices it as well. You can feel her straighten up a bit on the couch you’re sharing, tail flicking slightly, a subtle sign you’ve picked up on that tells you when she’s nervous. Neither Dash nor Twilight make any comment on the cake’s flavor, and the conversation plays itself out for another half hour before the ponies are all stretching. By now the sun is low enough that it’s making its way through your little apartment’s windows. One by one, the conversation shifts toward the things that still need doing in the evening, some tasks seeming monumental in light of the remaining hours in the day. Rarity takes to her feet to show her guests out, but before leading them forward, she politely asks Twilight and Rainbow Dash if they wouldn’t mind staying to clean up. She offers a half-hearted excuse about your burned hands, and even as she shows out the remaining three ponies, you can’t guess what she’d want to keep the two who might be suspicious of your cooking craziness around for.
You politely walk with her, taking Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack out the door and down the hall to the stairs. Led by Fluttershy, they coo over Rarity not needing to exert herself, and bid you farewell. As they disappear down the stairs and toward the exit, you feel a nervous tug at your hand, and look down to see Rarity’s hair wrapped around it. You smile and squeeze it reassuringly, walking up the hall with her back to your room, door still hanging slightly open like you left it. The light from the one long window in the living room snakes through the foyer and spills messily out into the hall through the small opening. As you get near it, two slivers of clumsy shadows are framed against the hall wall.
You can see their motion toward each other, and from the open door you can hear a light giggle and a frustrated sigh. You walk on toward the door out of habit, stopped only by the tug of hair. Looking behind you, Rarity has her head tilted, ears twitching in an attempt to pick up sounds at a much wider range than yours can. Her eyes are wide, and her jaw slowly lowers. Stretching your own senses to their limits, you can hear the occasional thump and giggle.
You look down at Rarity, realization dawning. Their recognition of the taste, their glances, their hurried and loud conversations throughout the afternoon. There’s no doubt about it in your mind, and you let slip a mischievous grin, leaning down to your patient spouse’s side. The unicorn leans in until her mouth is almost touching your ear, whispering in as hushed a tone as she can manage.
“Honestly, I didn’t expect this... it’s just... what do we do, darling? I mean. I don’t want to startle them, they’re my friends. Not that I’m bothered by their... What they do is... oh my... it’s so... and to catch them in the act!”
You raise an eyebrow and lean back at this, looking skeptical.
“Oh very well, not caught in the act, but if we could... It’s just that... why would they hide it? They’re among friends, certainly they could discuss such things openly.”
Decision made, you lean down, scooping her up carefully, intent on reclaiming your home regardless of what filly-foolery might be taking place in it right now. She bites her lip as you pull her into your arms, flanks first, but once her nose is near your ear and over your shoulder she makes her displeasure known.
“Absolutely not. I’ll not just barge in on them. Who knows when the last time they got to... Oh dear, it’s all so much to consider. Where else can we go to if not our home?”
You’re already making for the door at this point, but you slip off your shoes carefully, trying not to lose your balance. Her protests silence for fear of alerting the unicorn and pegasus in the other room, and you creep up to the door. Careful evenings spent slinking into the apartment late at night are now put into practice as you navigate past every board you know will creak. The many nights’ long labor of not waking your wife as you return from work culminates in a silent stride. Even with the load of chubby white pony in your arms, your footfalls are softer than any hard hoof-fall could dream to be. Your feet make a careful path th the door, silently brushing it open and slinking down into the cover of the kitchen on your immediate left, behind the peninsula that shielded you earlier. The sounds are easier to pick up now. Twilight’s rapid breathing, Dash’s constant giggling, the occasional flutter of wings alerting you to the fact that things might be further along than you expected... all the noises in the room confirm your suspicions many times over.
You listen, unsure of where to go from here. Beside you, Rarity huddles on her hind legs, back pressed against the cabinet. She glances over at you every few seconds, her face a mixture of fear and concern. On the other side of the bar, the noises change in pitch and tone. Twilight is moaning loudly now. The sound of couch cushions being pressed down and creaking carries easily to your position. The moans only intensify, and you can feel yourself growing hard listening to them. Worried about her reaction if she discovers it, you steal a glance over at Rarity.
The dignified lady is slumped almost onto her back against the cabinets. Sex drive has won against conflict; she’s trying desperately to maneuver her hooves around her enormous stomach to her soaking womanhood. A smal,l glistening puddle of wetness coats the tiled floor beneath her, and you ease her onto her knees, flanks in the air. You spread her lower lips with your capable fingers, and look around her expansive posterior at her face for some sign of permission.
Ear pressed to the floor, she nods vigorously. You slip your tongue in, and she bites down on her hair to stop from crying out. The sensation is unlike any you’ve experienced. Her wetness is astounding, having been worked up twice in such a short period and the sensation is akin to tasting a fruit whose juices wait just beneath the surface. The moment your tongue touches the inside, your mouth is filled with liquid. Her wetness gushes forth, practically a stream of lubricant dribbling down her legs and onto the floor with a smacking noise that seems far louder than it is. Her hooves kick and threaten to scuff against the ground, so you lift them up cautiously, leaving her spread-eagle.
At this point you’re nearly drinking her, sweet and tangy inner honey coating your cheeks and dribbling down your chin. Using your tongue, you spread the abundance of liquid across her flanks, finally reaching the tender pucker above her love canal and dripping as much of her wetness across it as you can before licking into it. Your tongue drives into a place it’s never gone before, and her shock is evident. Her legs squirm and she kicks, self consciousness flooding to the surface even above her raging horniness. She lets out a squeak of protest, and the noise in the other room ceases immediately. Cries of confusion from both unicorn and pegasus fill the room as they shift desperately to more natural positions on the couch, all the while no doubt trying to discern your location.
A few moments of silence creep by. Finally, nervously, Twilight raises her voice, asking for either you or Rarity. Looking desperately over her shoulder at you for sanctuary, but knowing the right thing to do, Rarity dislodges herself from your grip and trots out of her hiding place. She attempts to straighten her mane as she goes, and you stand up too, straightening your shirt and wiping off your mouth. You watch the expressions of shock from the two ponies on the couch shift to nervous embarrassment, and Rarity approaches them in an attempt to smooth over the situation.
“I’m sorry girls. It’s just... you seemed like you were having so much fun and... Well it would be terribly rude to interrupt. Goodness knows how long you’ve been...”
She searches for an appropriate, non-offensive term, her social graces still intact.
“How long you’ve been together, unable to act. I just thought it would be a shame to spoil that.”
By now she’s reached the couch.
“You girls know you can tell me anything... I wouldn’t- we wouldn’t tell a soul. We never will. You’ve my word as a lady.”
She straightens her back and neck here, placing special emphasis on “lady” and looking at both of them with as much of a reassuring manner as she can. Still, no words are forthcoming, but Dash and Twilight exchange hurried glances, eyes wandering over the unicorn you’re married to. You follow their gaze and sigh. Even now, hard at work salvaging everyone’s pride for them, she’s so wet she’s trickling down the inside of her thigh. How she can muster such confidence while knowing that fact baffles you, and you move slowly to take her side, hoping to bolster her confidence.
Dash reaches her first. Thanks for consideration are exchanged, and then a kiss on the cheek. Rarity sighs at the touch, and you watch her with interest as she deflates like a balloon at the first kiss. Cautiously, Dash kisses her cheek again, earning another sigh. Rarity’s gaze is fixed on some invisible spot on the wall, and Dash moves into her vision, pushing lips against lips now. You move forward a little more, unsure of what to do, waiting for things to unfold on their own. You look to Twilight for guidance, the source of wisdom between you two.
She’s not on the couch anymore. At some point, she’s slunk from her seat, and meeting your eyes she shrugs and moves forward to a position directly behind Rainbow Dash, sliding a hoof between the colourful pony’s legs. She begins to work it back and forth, and Dash practically melts off of Rarity’s lips and onto the floor with a sigh. Mindful of her now stiffened wings, the pegasus rolls onto her back and spreads her legs. Rarity looks over her shoulder to you for some idea of what to do next as Twilight sinks toward the ground, working her hoof around and over Dash’s glistening slit.
You finally approach Rarity as she stands stiff, two of her best friends engaged in something so intimate at her hooves. The moment you’re within range her tail flicks up, coiling around one of your legs gently, tugging at it for support. You move into her, resting a hand on her flank with the hope of dispelling some confusion, and you lean down to nibble on her ear. Your own hearing is filled with the wet loving sounds of the two ponies at your feet, and you press up against your wife’s ample flanks. The simple act brings the earlier erection rushing back, and in seconds it’s straining against your pants for release. Rarity gives you a subtle nod, and you mentally thank her as you manage your way out of your confining jeans and boxers with all possible haste. The two ponies below her don’t pay your sudden disrobing any mind, having moved forward to kissing, pent up and long hidden passion finally surfacing in the room of trust you’ve given them.
You press yourself hard up against Rarity’s flanks, hoping she’s not grown too ashamed to become involved at this point. Twilight and Dash are a tangle of hooves and tails as Rarity finally sighs and wiggles her bottom against your firm rod. You slip your hands down to her flanks, gripping handfuls of flesh, tired of observing, and slide in.
Juices, abundant and filling her, splash and squirt out around your thick pole. The number of times both of you have been denied in the past few hours has culminated in something monstrous, and her knees buckle on the second hard thrust. Down to Twilight’s level, Rarity receives a mouth full of unicorn tongue. Dash squirms underneath Twilight, managing to position her face beneath Twilight’s hips, and begins to vigorously suck on the lavender pony’s labia. You can hear Twilight’s moans coming out of Rarity’s mouth, but having passed the initial shock of it, Rarity is now reciprocating. On the other end of your thrusting manhood, Rarity works Twilight’s mouth expertly, eyes half lidded, occasional moan slipping out from between their locked lips.
Twilight is the first to cum, breaking her lip lock with Rarity only moments before and sliding onto her side, where she pulls Dash in for a quick and hard kiss. The two roll around on the floor, finally settling with Twilight rubbing herself against one of Dash’s wings as she hoofs the weather pony’s womanhood with passionate motions. You can hear Dash grunting stubbornly, holding out as long as she can, but finally the pressure builds up and her legs kick wildly, love juices gushing out of her in a stream that carries on a good foot and a half up and over Rarity’s body. It splashes into the unicorn’s face, and as Dash bucks around, the stream travels onto her back, continuing in an erratic arc downward until parts of her legs and hooves are wet too.
There’s a shiver on the other end of your steady thrusting, and the unicorn you’re pushing into slips out of any remaining genteel behavior. With a whinny of lust and want, she furiously bucks her hips backward with each of your thrusts, jarring your body in a way certain to leave your pelvis bruised. You find yourself ramming in just as hard on each shove, the collisions shaking both of you as her moans become screams and her hooves claw at the carpet. Your hands grip onto her flanks for purchase as you bite your lip, desperate to hold out. You flex inside her, and she responds by tightening around you.
Her tail flails around wildly, nearly clipping your face on a few occasions. Her back legs give out, forcing you to your knees as you push her roughly and unceremoniously onto her side. Dash and Twilight have recovered by now, and they watch carefully before making their way toward her prone body. Twilight’s lips find Rarity’s, Dash’s hoofs find your snow white unicorn’s clit, and the two work together to drive her over the edge. Her eyes are half-lidded at this point, pupils dilating crazily, screams escaping Twilight’s persistent kisses whenever she withdraws her tongue for air. On your end, you feel her clenching, the warmth and wetness overpowering, dribbling down your overly slick shaft and onto the carpet. With a final thrust your seed gushes out, flooding her.
The force of your orgasm rocks you, each supposed ending to it misleading, on the heels of it another gushing explosion of semen. Rarity goes quiet, eyes almost entirely shut, nearly blacked out from the sheer explosive pleasure that has rocked all of her most sensitive places. You slouch down next to her, pulling out, cum pouring out from her, flaccid member still slowly dripping more onto the carpet beside her. Her panting is heavy, her body is heaving, Twilight and Dash are covered in sweat, spit, and juices. You all look at each other and the unicorn you worked so hard on. It’s several minutes before she can breathe evenly enough to get a word out. Finally she pants out a slightly coherent sentence.
“Getting... getting dark outside. You girls... You should stay the night.” Carefully, the three of you move her to the bedroom, and there sleep takes you in a tangle of wings, horns, and bedsheets.

Some Sort of Epilogue

Some sort of Epilogue:

Six months pass in a blur. Outside winter has come and gone and the warm spring rain pours. Once again you’re all seated in the living room. On the sofa next to you your rapidly thickening wife sips at her soda. On the floor Twilight reads on the floor with your daughter, reading her a storybook about rabbits and gardens and protecting them from dragons. Unique laughs and claps whenever the brave swordsrabbit shows up and taunts the dragon, each instance given a special voice by Twilight. You rise as somepony knocks on the door, and you know it’s Dash. It’s been a while since she crashed in through your window. You rise and open it for her.

“Hey dude.”

Hey.

Her voice drops to a whisper.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Outside? In the rain?

“It’s uhhh...”

Dash cranes her neck and spies Twilight on the rug.

“It’s important. Private.”

You nod and step out, closing the door behind you.

“Hey. Remember that ring I asked you about? For that somepony we talked about?”

You search your memory. Months ago, yes?

“Yeah, uhhh... Can I put in a commission?”

Commission? It’ll be free of charge. You laugh and hug her, and wish her luck.

“Luck with what?”

You turn about to face Rarity, who stands in the doorway looking warily up at the rainy day.

“Can’t you come out from the rain? You know I detest it.”

You shake your head and motion for her to step out to you. She’s been getting better the past few months. She even took Unique out to play in it a couple of times. Twilight fills the doorway now too, foal riding atop her back.

“What’s everypony doing outside?”

“Just being absolute fools, honestly. Won’t you come in?”

Rarity takes another step out and you scoop her into your arms and lift her up. She’s not quite heavy enough yet, and you kiss her as the rain soaks and mats her mane to her head. Unique hops off Twilight’s back and hurries over to both of you, and Dash lifts her easily onto your shoulders.

“You’ll drop her from up there, be careful!”

You laugh and look up at the pouring sky. You tell her you love the rain now. You didn’t always like it, but you like it now.

“I know. You love it because she loves it. She loves playing in the puddles.”

You grin and nod.

“Do you like playing in the puddles, Unique?”

Unique squeals happily as you laugh again, and Rarity snuggles into you and smiles.

“Then perhaps the rain isn’t so bad. Perhaps it just matters who you’re standing in it with.”

Sequel / Side Story Information

Normally I wouldn't bother with a posted chapter like this. Many people, myself included, dislike these chapter-bookends being written, because they tend to ruin immersion. I do apologize for that. I simply consider this the best way to get the word out to the many many kind readers who have watched / favorited my long since finished story, and generously ask for more: The story does go on, in Unicorn Diaries and a possible sequel. UD tells us events that occur before, during, and after Preggity from Twilight Sparkle's first person narrative. The possible sequel won't be announced until UD is over, and I'm still breathing and ready to write some more.

A lot of people have been asking about a sequel or side story to Preggity. The truth is, there is a sequel in the works, but before it can be written, the lateral side story Unicorn Diaries (Here) has to be finished. Once it is, we'll see the conclusion of the trilogy I planned out a long time ago, of stories written in first, second, and third person as a challenge to myself and my audience. There's a lot of groundwork in Preggity that I had to write for the stories to come; and matching the events here with the ones as they happen from Twilight's point of view in Unicorn Diaries while keeping the two separate stories has been a labor of love that I can't thank generous readers enough for.

If you did make it to the end of this, I hope you'll read more wordswordswords that I've written in the Preggity setting in Unicorn Diaries, and the possible third and final installment in the trilogy once I've finished Unicorn Diaries. So consider this both my advertisement for the next story, and my answer to those questioning if the story lives on: For the time being, affirmative.