Behemoth Baby-factory Batpony Botheration

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The months following Princess Luna's return had been busy indeed. First she'd needed to catch up with a thousand years of Equestrian history and re-learn how to behave amongst the common ponies - not the easiest of tasks. But then it had also come to light that Nightmare Moon - in the short time that she'd been set loose upon Equestria - had put into motion all manner of backup plans in her mad quest for eternal darkness. The princess of the night, unwilling to allow her unhinged alter-ego even the smallest victory, had personally dedicated herself to thwarting each and every one. And so she had - in a quest fit for a princess she'd sought out Nightmare's twisted schemes and put a stop to them one after another: a night-worshipping cult, a giant deployable sunshade; even an overclocked weather machine designed to shroud Equestria under a blanket of clouds.

A difficult task, but a noble one, and she'd accomplished it all by herself.

At last, one quiet morning, Princess Luna allowed herself to relax. While vigilance would always be needed, all of Nightmare's bizarre plans that she'd managed to track down had finally been put to rest. She sat on the balcony of her temporary lodging, letting the cool air play through her mane, and gazed up at the beautiful starlit sky. In the evening she would return to Canterlot and to her dear sister's side, and for the first time in so, so long, things could be... normal. Even the normally taciturn princess couldn't help but smile at that, closing her eyes and letting her imagination free.

*BOOM*

Luna's ears perked, and she immediately snapped out of her reverie. Something had just hit the ground nearby - something big. Something very big, and judging by the thunderous sound of hoofsteps, approaching fast. The princess of the night blinked a few times, slowly coming to terms with exactly what her eyes were telling her. Approaching over the open field was a batpony mare the size of a small castle, slate gray and carrying a substantial paunch. Wide, bright purple eyes the size of wagons were fixed on her, accompanied by a gleeful smile that only widened as the massive pony rumbled closer and closer, wings outstretched in obvious excitement.

"General Moon! General Moon, I found you!"

Even faced with the bizarre and somewhat intimidating sight, Luna had to fight the urge to facehoof above all else. "...oh no."

The gargantuan batpony skidded to a stop, bringing her hooves down on the balcony either side of the princess and annihilating the guardrail. She leaned down close, her smile never wavering, and announced proudly in her shrill and resonant voice, "General Moon! Your secret Bun-in-the-Oven Brigade is ready to deploy! Soon your enemies will know true fear!"

Luna was, for the moment, struck speechless by the strangeness of the situation. While her brain struggled to process exactly what was going on, her eyes took stock of the boisterous, bulbous bat-behemoth, who was wagging her long crimson tail (and hips along with it) like a massive, overexcited puppy. Her cutie mark, a factory building smoking merrily in front of a full moon, was big enough to decorate the wall of a barn. But speaking of size, that paled in comparison to the mare's belly. Now up close, the unavoidable observation was that the giant mare wasn't just chubby, but quite prodigiously pregnant.

The wheels started to turn again in Luna's mind. 'General Moon'? Nightmare's return had been less than a year ago. 'Secret bun-in-the-oven brigade'? A brigade could mean anything between fifteen hundred and four thousand soldiers...

The batpony tilted her head a little. "Don't you remember me, General Moon? It's me, Harvest Moon!" She raised her hoof and saluted, sending planks and splinters from the unfortunate balcony flying in all directions. "Force multiplication specialist, at your service!"

Luna cleared her throat and spoke in her most authoritative tone. "Well met, Harvest Moon. Pray tell, what do you have to report?"

Harvest grinned from tufted ear to tufted ear, sitting back on her haunches with an earthshaking crash and proudly presenting the colossal rounded mass that was her tummy, easily rivalling Luna's opulent dwelling for sheer volume all on its own. "They're almost ready, see? Less than a month, and your batpony army will be born and ready to take over Equestria!" Luna vaguely realised that her guards had arrived to investigate the commotion and were standing slack-jawed in the doorway. Harvest carried on, her enthusiasm invincible. "And then when that's done, you'll be free to complete your master plan and the night - shall last - forever!" She threw her head back and belted out a genuinely impressive echo of Nightmare Moon's best villain laugh (at the volume of an approaching freight train). "Ahahahaha! Wa-hahahahahahaha!"

Luna managed to join in with a half-hearted cackle, a cold sweat starting to trail down the back of her neck. "V-very good, Specialist. Just a moment."

"Are you feeling alright, General Moon? You always laugh at that part. You're looking a little pale, too."

"Yes, yes, perfectly fine. Ahahahaha. Ha. Please attend to the brigade while I speak with my gu- ah, other minions." Luna turned and leaned in close to her two guards, lowering her voice to a hissed whisper. Judging by the sounds behind her, Harvest was 'attending to the brigade' by uprooting and eating an entire tree.

"Contact my sister with all haste. I may need a little help with this one..."

Marble Pie a la Cart

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So there you are, whiling away the afternoon on /mlp/ like the autist you are, and you're typing out the rant of a lifetime at some newfag pleb (It's not inflation you shitstain get a clue jesus christ I bet you have a job or something do you even fetish reeeeeee) when you hear a quiet voice behind you. "Um, Anon? I'm hungry. Can you take me shopping?"

You turn away from your masterpiece of rage and pause for a second to weigh up your options while Marble looks up at you expectantly. In her present state she really shouldn't be going anywhere - the foals are getting big, and you can see that even standing is starting to give her some discomfort. She's a sweet, quiet and understanding little pony, and the emotional side of your brain says you could probably talk her into going back to bed while you scrounge up a snack. But as you gaze into that big, pleading purple puppy eye, the other covered up by her mane as usual, the rational side of your brain swiftly takes control. She's probably devoured every last bit of food you've got already, and you never, NEVER say no to a heavily pregnant and hormonal Pie sister. You're pretty sure your bones still haven't properly healed since last time.

"Sure, let's go." The mall isn't far, and you can get back to dropping the hammer on uncultured normies later. Marble smiles her small, innocent smile and bumps her head against your hip, then falls in alongside you at a steady waddle as you fetch your coat. Sure enough, the kitchen looks like a tornado went through it, but you'll have to handle that later.

It's a beautiful sunny day outside, without even a single cloud in the sky. Perfect dog-walking weather, not that you'd mention that. It turns out that 'little' ponies are roughly the size of German Shepards. Present company excluded - Marble's swollen tummy almost doubles her overall width and you're not even going to take the risk of finding out how much the pregnancy's added to her weight. From the look of things, it's added a lot. By the time you reach the mall around the block, she's red in the face and sweating and the pair of you have to stop and take a break. You wipe her brow and rest your free hand on her tummy, eliciting a little squeak from the rounded mare. She's almost impossibly shy most of the time, not the sort to let herself be seen like this in public, but self-consciousness comes second to food cravings. A loud, demanding gurgle from deep inside her belly reminds you of the gravity of the situation.

You scratch your head. Marble barely made it here - you can't expect her to come trailing around the mall with you and it's not like you can carry her either. But one look at that pleading little face makes it clear that you can't turn back either. Those foals want food *now*, and who knows what it'll take to satisfy them? A shopping cart rattles past with a child in the high seat, pushed by a woman that obviously wants to be literally anywhere else. "Mummy, look at the size of that pony!" The woman ignores her brat's comment and keeps going, while Marble blushes like a tomato and tries to hide behind her mane. For a second you feel like taking up some of that pent up chan rage on the little shit, but then again - that gives you an idea. A minute later, once Marble is fit to get up and walk again, you lead her over to the cart bay.

Bingo.

While Marble looks on with ever-growing agitation at her ravenous brood, you pick out one of the larger carts, one designed to carry a week's worth of groceries for a family. It's a fancy model too, with smooth clear plastic surfaces on a metal frame instead of the usual wire mesh. "Here you go. We can give your legs a rest with this," you say, proud of your idea.

Marble bites her lip, cowering from the cart like it might be about to leap up and bite her, but eventually she relaxes. "Mm-hmm."

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder, bringing the other around beneath her forelegs to support her ribcage. "Just got to get you into it. Ready?" She fidgets, looking furtively left and right, but it looks like you're not making a scene and she nods, giving you a trusting smile. You brace your legs, shifting your other hand to support her hindquarters. Time to put all that knowledge you picked up while shitposting on /fit/ to good use.

Marble is not a light pony. You grit your teeth and heave, putting every ounce of tard strength you can muster into the effort, and lift her bodily off the ground, letting your legs do the work rather than your spine. Your muscles ache in protest, but you reach deep down into your core and harness every last ounce of power that pure waifufaggotry has to offer, gently hoisting and lowering her into the cart. You take a deep breath and slowly release your hold, trying to shake the feeling that your arms have been dragged halfway out of their sockets, but smile as you survey the results of your hard work.

Marble comes to rest on her side, her forelegs curled around her chest. Lying down like this just emphasises how massively pregnant she is, the upper curve of her belly jutting proudly over the rim of the cart and the rosy, sensitive patch around her navel pressing against the plastic inside wall, but the cart's just about spacious enough to hold her without much discomfort. She peers up at you with that adorable one-eyed look, still blushing faintly. "Can we, um, get some food now?"

You nod and take hold of the cart's handle, pushing your demure and dramatically distended little pony through the double doors and towards the food court. Her tummy rumbles again, the sound of a mighty hunger that only a heap of mismatched vegetables and dessert can sate. You can only hope that she's not too big to get out of the cart again once she's done gorging...

Onerous Ovi Overload

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Ever the patient schemer, Queen Chrysalis was used to setbacks. Inconveniences, stumbling blocks, even defeats. Such things, she told herself, could always be set right given time. While the most recent loss to those insipid little ponies weighed heavy on her ego, she simply resolved to pick herself up and try again. Already the drones were constructing a new hive - a maze of tunnels and chambers that would one day be the seat of her new empire. She smiled to herself, watching them. Her little drones were simple creatures but diligent ones, and their tireless labor left her free to sit back, observe, and make more eggs so that the hive might expand. As a queen should.

"Liset," Queen Chrysalis asked, waving down a drone as she wandered past, "how much longer until the birthing chamber is complete?"

Liset was a small changeling but an energetic one, and buzzed up into the air on her gossamer wings to address her queen face to face. Since being placed in the position of de-facto foreman of the new hive, she had taken to wearing a yellow construction hat and a large, toothy grin at all times. "Not long, Your Fecundity. I'd say maybe, umm, ninety percent done. Sit back and relax, it's all in good hooves."

Sitting back, of course, had long ago ceased to be an option. Unlike those silly little ponies, changelings took reproduction seriously. One, maybe two foals at a time? Laughable. Chrysalis had often permitted herself a little self-indulgent chuckle, imagining the looks of surprise and incredulity the ponies might wear if they could see her at the peak of her breeding cycle, replete with hundreds of eggs. The makings of a new swarm. Her midsection bulged grandly in all directions, utterly stuffed with eggs both grown and growing - its lowest point perilously close to grazing the floor despite her towering stature, the back end forcing her hindlegs apart and the front face pressing against the backs of her forelegs, the whole thing swelling out to a gloriously excessive width at both her sides and straining the green banding that encircled her torso.

Chrysalis' response to Liset was cut off before it started by gritted teeth and a low groan. A sensation of firm, almost painful tightness rushed through her lower body; intense and urgent. It lasted for less than a second, but it was enough to throw off her train of thought and keep her from berating the drone for being more impudent than usual.

Liset giggled to herself, pressing her forehooves to her cheeks. "Sorry Your Bigness, but we still need more time. Just a little bit, I promise."

Chrysalis hmphed loudly and crossed her forehooves, with few options save to accept her little drone's report. She was used to being patient but this was getting ridiculous - her first laying was a month overdue, and the eggs would just keep building up more and more until she began the birthing process. By now she could barely walk, the sheer cumbersome mass of her womb like a lead weight pulling the rest of her down. "Very well, Liset. I expect you to be finished by tomorrow evening."

The mischievous drone nodded and gave the queen a little wink. "Sure thing, Your Enormity. But you know what they say - you can't rush art."

Chrysalis waved Liset away, tired of her smugness. Already she felt another tightening around her middle, and held back the contraction as best she could. This would not do - she needed a distraction. A self-indulgent smile crossed her lips, and she summoned several drones from their work on less important parts of the hive to 'attend' to her. All too glad to serve, they quickly surrounded their queen's bulbous form, laying their porous hooves upon her taut skin. And more than that - tongues, cheeks, hips, stomachs and lewder parts besides. A shifting, lustful host of chitinous bodies surrounded and engulfed her. Chrysalis purred indulgently and bade her children to pleasure her, and so they did. She revelled in the distraction it offered her from the mild but irritating contractions of her delayed breeding cycle.

There were worse ways to spend a weekend...

-----

"Liset! Explain!"

The weekend had turned into a week. Queen Chrysalis dangled her procrastinating foreman in front of her in a magical grip, red-faced and sweating with a grimace equal parts anger and strain, but Liset just wouldn't wipe that smug grin off her face. "Explain what, Your Crowdedness?"

"Why is the birthing chamber not complete yet?" Chrysalis hissed, baring her teeth. Her patience was drawing perilously close to its breaking point; enough to make her twitch.

Liset shrugged. "Diggers hit a rock. Can't lay eggs with a rock in the way."

"You're doing this on purpose! Rocks don't take an entire week to move you littl-" Chrysalis cut herself off with a little start. That twitch hadn't been out of anger; another contraction was building, steady and unstoppable, and it felt set to be the biggest one so far. She grit her teeth and ignored Liset's sarcastic response - holding the eggs back took all of her focus now. She set her hooves - not that doing so had done much good ever since her swollen middle had grown enough to meet the floor - and dedicated all her focus on enduring the raw pressure that built all across her taut hide, burning insistently as it focused around her stubbornly resilient cervix. She huffed and panted, feeling for all the world like a bomb about to explode. A big fat tick ready to burst. It didn't feel bad as such, nor did it scare her - Chrysalis knew that she was made of strong stuff, but she had never delayed a brood this long before. It was becoming far more than an inconvenience. As the sensation slowly faded and Chrysalis' womb settled back into feeling 'just' extremely heavy and full, she made up her mind.

"Never mind, then," she huffed, "an unfinished birthing chamber is better than none at all. Drones! Carry me!" At the queen's word, her dozens of attendants scrambled to shift her enormous bulk towards the birthing chamber. "You too, Liset! You can push!"

Liset took up position behind Chrysalis, giggling to herself not only at the thought of the obvious response, but also at the fact that the queen was obviously unable to close her back legs. There was simply too much belly in the way, and the awkward pose exposed the queen's thick ebony ass, her hips already well parted for birthing, for everyone to see. Her sex glistened green, spread wide and quivering in anticipation of its inevitable task, and the entire arrangement was sent into a flurry of weighty jiggling once the drones' combined strength finally got Chrysalis moving.

They made it halfway to their goal before the next contraction hit. Chrysalis tensed, her entire bloated body seeming to harden as her muscles clamped down. She moaned through her teeth, concentrating. Clenching. I can do this, she thought. Almost there, just a little longer. I can hold them back...

And then Liset, with her long, damp little tongue, licked Chrysalis' tummy right up the midline.

The dam broke, and in more ways than one. Announced by a great shuddering squeal from the normally aloof queen, a great torrent of thick, pungent nutritional fluid burst from Chrysalis' gaping snatch, coating Liset and the drones on her left and right from head to hoof. The first egg, a smooth jade ovoid the size of a football, passed out of her cervix with a loud schlurp and filled her back passage completely, stretching it even wider as it began to crown. The queen wiggled her hooves helplessly and groaned out loud, but nothing would stop what had now begun. Another contraction hit almost immediately and with great force, as if aware that the time had come. Another egg pressed out into her vaginal tunnel, carrying with it a fresh wave of sticky goo and pushing its sibling to stretch her opening wider and wider - but not quite wide enough to pass the egg entirely. Chrysalis bucked her hips and buzzed her wings, moaning and squirming and drooling, all sense of dignity or pride completely washed away by a storm of sensation.

And then, again, she felt Liset's tongue. Probing, playful, like a cheeky little sprite dancing around the edges of her enormously dilated pussy. The soaked little changeling dug her hooves into the fleshy cushions of the queen's broodmare-grade ass, teasing and stimulating with all her usual audacity. With a great heave of internal pressure and no small amount of mess, the first egg slid free and into the drones' waiting hooves. Chrysalis barely registered it, the third egg of dozens already making its presence known.

In less than a minute, this became a regular cycle. Chrysalis was a heaving, moaning egg pump that filled the bulk of the corridor, a new egg emerging automatically every few seconds with a loud, wet sound and a fresh round of moans and grunts from the belabored queen. Liset, whose hard hat had left her face the only part of her body not utterly plastered in amniotic goo, paused in her cheeky cunnilingus and grinned that fanged, impish little grin.

"Whoops~."

Milky Way's Clammy Day

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"Phew. Blimey, what a fuss," Milky Way sighed, wiping her brow as she closed her front door on a bright summer morning and the day's delivery round. For a minute she simply rested inside the doorway, hooves set wide and taking deep slow breaths. As sweat rolled down her face, plastered her mane to her neck and stained her white uniform a patchy beige, she had to admit to herself that the day's milk round was starting to get a little difficult.

Milky's rest was short-lived; a low gurgle from deep inside her rounded middle reminded her that the day's duties were far from over. Her customers might have been satisfied, but a certain little someone was putting a big, urgent order for crumpets and cheese. At least it's a nice, normal Trottingham craving this time, she thought with a little smile, shrugging her saddleracks onto the floor and hanging up her hat on the way to the kitchen. Ponies didn't usually eat crumpets six at a time, but at this point Milky was satisfied with every little piece of normalcy she could get.

Reaching the food her foal demanded took longer than she would have liked. Eight months in, her pregnant belly was starting to outgrow her generously spacious uniform; the curtain-like sides more riding her middle than covering it, clinging to the broadly rounded surface thanks to the sweat she'd worked up. That, at least, was manageable - she wasn't carrying much bigger than the average mare, at least in terms of belly size. Her mammaries, though - embarassingly large at the best of times, they'd taken Milky's impending motherhood as an excuse to upsize and work overtime. The soccerball-sized orbs jostled and bounced weightily as she made her way to the kitchen, fighting her inner thighs and the lower face of her belly for space at all times. Modesty had become impossible - the best Milky had managed on that front was a custom-fitted, reinforced bra. It hadn't been cheap, but even its lavish(ly expensive) capacity for crotchboob had started to struggle as the weeks wore by. Creamy yellow flesh spilled defiantly out of the cups; two thick rose-coloured teats proudly dented the thick fabric. Milky wanted to believe that the dampness she felt back there was just more sweat, but deep down she realised it was a vain hope.

The milkmare's raid on the kitchen was conducted quickly and without much patience or grace. Crumpets went straight into the toaster and then straight into her mouth, just so that the toaster could be filled up again, the hungry mare not even bothering to butter her food or wait for it to cool. Cleaning could come later: mornings had begun to conform to a strict routine. Breakfast first, then the milk round, then second breakfast, then a shower, then an hour with the milker, and then finally free time. Milky sighed softly, letting herself lean back and patting her belly gently as her hunger receded.

Her teats throbbed. Not painfully, but with an inescapable sensation of ever-increasing fullness. It was enough to deny her the chance to rest a second time and spur her into hurrying onwards with her routine. Milky took a glance over her shoulder on the way to the bathroom, scrunching her muzzle and blushing at the realisation that her bust was visible even from that angle, bobbing and jiggling as she waddled up the stairs.

Unbuttoning her uniform, Milky stole a proper look at herself in the wide bathroom mirror as she passed by, letting out a mutter of exasperation at the sight. "Slow down, you two. Any bigger and I'm going to need wheels." She reached around awkwardly to unclasp the crotchbra from just above her dock, and couldn't help but shiver a little as her great, sensitive orbs finally hung free. If anything, she noted with a little pout, that just made them look even bigger. It brought back awkward memories of her foalhood - of wondering when the not-so-little buds of thick, pliable flesh between her legs would finally stop growing. Or if they ever would.

Milky stepped into the shower, shaking such thoughts from her mind. She was who she was; and being so 'uniquely gifted' by her cutie mark wasn't all bad. She switched on the warm water and smiled broadly as it cascaded down over her, washing away the sweat from the morning's rounds and dragging her regal-blue mane down around her neck. She sat down gingerly on her haunches and then lay back completely, letting the gently-steaming spray wash down over her swollen bump and bust, then down into the deep, dark crevices between. The water felt wonderful on her stretched and sensitive skin, and she let her mind drift a little. As if with minds of their own, her hooves drifted as well. First to the surface of her womb, with gentle rubs and little probing touches. The little one responded lazily, apparently satisfied with its meal. Then her touch sank lower, playing gently over the tender, lightly freckled masses of the tits dominating her lap. Even a small prod was enough to send a jolt of sensation buzzing up her spine, making her hind hooves curl and her lips twitch. Another touch, just a little experimental one, drew out a low groan and a wide swish of her soaked tail.

Really? Milky thought, In the shower? She dragged the frog of her hoof slowly down the side of her left boob and bit her lip, battling a moan and a giddy smile. Why not in the shower? It's not like you can't afford to waste any. Embarassed or not, she couldn't argue with her own logic - before the foal she'd been milking herself once every day or two. That had been enough to keep up with demand. But in recent months the milkings had become daily. Then twice daily. She had even considered adding a third milking session to her schedule, just to ensure that she could get a full night's sleep without waking up to damp sheets. A little milk down the drain wouldn't be missed.

Milky purred under her breath, hooves dragging themselves in search of her fat, bloated teats... and couldn't find them. She let out a low whine, opening her eyes with a little sound of frustration - with her bump in the way, she couldn't quite reach. She pawed at her boobs, bending forwards and stretching her forelegs. A brush with one of her plump, rosy aureolae drew another gasp and a wiggle of her hinds, but try as she might she couldn't quite get to the most sensitive spots; those plump, dripping peaks that stiffened and swelled in readiness even now. "Mmmf-, oh, now you're just taking the piss..." she moaned, squeezing her bulbous mare-udders together between her hooves. Twin spurts of rich, thick milk spattered against the shower wall, but it was just a drop from an ocean, not the steady release of pressure that she craved. Milky sweated and squirmed, soaked to the skin and starving for sensations that were just out of reach.

And then the doorbell rang.

Fire on the Mountain

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Daybreaker lounged on her throne, indulging herself from a plate stacked high with thick, delicious pancakes. Crumbs and flecks of maple syrup liberally speckled her muzzle and chest, the sounds of her gluttonous feasting echoing up and down the cavernous throne room. The blazing alicorn chewed and swallowed indolently, revelling in each decadent bite without a care in the world. After all, who would oppose her? Who would have the gall to look down on Equestria's mighty ruler for not adhering to frivolous ettiquette? She paused in her gorging to let out a tremendous sulphuric belch, and patted her stomach with a grin of smug self-satisfaction. Her cooking always tasted so much better than it once had, back before she'd given in to the simple pleasure of keeping it all to herself.

Her belly tightened a little, sending little ripples of sensation throughout her body, as if to promptly remind her that such a thought wasn't technically true any more. The temperature of the room spiked by a few degrees, the air growing hazy for several seconds before gradually returning to normal. Daybreaker purred softly under her breath, resting her forehooves on the tremendous ivory orb of her midsection and rubbing it gently, trying to soothe the pangs of early labor before they returned in full force. "Soon, my darlings. Very soon."

Daybreaker quickly returned to her pancakes, using her magic to guide heaped, messy forkloads into her mouth while she set about admiring the great, firm orb that dominated her lap. Again that smile of satisfaction graced her lips, her hooves wandering across the tightly-stretched and sensitive skin that surrounded her teeming womb. Celestia, her pale predecessor, had already been worshipped by her subjects as a symbol of motherhood. They'd looked up to her as a warm, loving, soft-hearted idol. The sort that you could snuggle up against and tell your troubles to while she hugged your worries away. Daybreaker chuckled to herself at that thought. Then her grin spread wider and she broke into full-throated laughter of complete and utter amusement, head thrown back and hind legs wiggling either side of her glorious gravidity.

If only those pathetic fools could see her now! As if they were even worthy of the privilege! Seated upon the throne, packed to the brim with three very healthy and very large foals, glorious and incandescent; demolishing breakfast treats by the dozen without a care or duty in the world! Her laugh trailed off into a low and guttural purr as her muscles once again began to move on their own - tightening, contracting, preparing themselves. It felt so good - to be so gravid, so potent with energy and potential. Life and flame alike, joined together in a beautiful, blazing crucible. Sweat rose from her pores only to evaporate instantly, her flaring power irresistable. The hanging banners lining the great gilded hall fluttered in the rising heat, then burst completely into flame. The regal carpet shrank back, crinkling and burning away. The fountains surrounding her throne sizzled and seethed, wreathing the pregnant princess in a cloak of steam.

Daybreaker revelled in it all.

Once the latest contraction had faded, she quickly polished off her pancakes and adjusted herself, making sure that her place on the royal throne was maximally comfortable with no regard for grace or decency. Her hooves once again found their way to the upper surface of her teeming belly, rubbing and teasing with staunch enthusiasm. The surface of her taut skin shifted, deforming slightly with internal movement as her restless foals responded to her obvious excitement. But revelling in her size - her fullness - her sheer and vast fecundity - simply wasn't enough. Her horn lit in brilliant red, tendrils of magic seeking out the deliciously sensitive and swollen places between her hinds. No less abundant than the rest of her, of course. No less deserving of an eternity's adoration. She cupped her fattened, bulging teats before turning her attention downwards, plunging into the burning depths of her marehood without even thinking, moaning deeply as the telekinetic force spread her wide and filled her needy depths right to the brim. She withdrew slowly, teasing herself, and then slammed right back in again with a howl of lust. The thought that she'd be spread much, much wider before long only added to her ecstacy.

"You're so beautiful," Daybreaker crooned, to herself as well as to the foals stirring in her womb. She thrust her magic into herself after every word, her voice shaking and eyes rolling back as she made every effort to simply overload her own senses, paying no mind to the slick, sticky mess she was making of her throne dais. "Look at you. Immortal, incincible. Heir to the power of the sun itself." She hugged her womb tight, radiating heady glee with a smile that only a shark could hope to match. "Inheritors of so much. Such. Glorious. Power!"

Another contraction blazed through her body and she shrieked in delight, every muscle drawing hard and firm, legs twitching fitfully. "Yesssss..." she hissed, steaming and burning with pleasure and energy alike. The throne room itself seemed to swell with roaring, unnatural heat, as if consumed by an invisible inferno. Finely-carved stones blackened and cracked, braziers creaked and warped, trapped within the autoclave fuelled by Daybreaker's birth pangs. The plate that had held her pancakes became part of the floor. At last even the grand stained-glass windows, those everlasting reminders of the great triumphs of harmony (Hah!), began to bubble and melt. Black liquid glass dribbled like magma, thick fingers of it spreading across the floor of the grand hall and out into the gardens beyond.

At last, and with a great trembling roar of release and satisfaction, Daybreaker slumped back in her throne. Her tongue lolled gently from her muzzle as her chest heaved with long, deep breaths. As she collected her strength with deliberate and lazy slowness, she could do nothing but gaze lovingly upon her brimming womb.

Soon. Oh, yes. Very, very soon...

Sunlit Sea

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Far from Equestria, beneath a great ocean that stretches many, many times farther than even a pegasus' eye can see, exists a kingdom like no other. Perhaps one day it will be known to the world, but for now it remains shrouded beneath mystery and anticipation as thick as the deep. We do not concern ourselves with that place today, strange and magical as it may be, but instead with one that seeks to leave it behind. If only for an afternoon.

She seeks solitude today.

Between tall forests of great, swaying plants and over great, studded banks of carefully managed coral, she moves through the deep with focused purpose but also an easy, practised grace. A being of ivory and fuchsia and pale blue, long and elegant as is the norm for those that dwell beneath the waves, the water parting smoothly around her glistening flanks as if it were thin air. Her midriff bulges prominently from her almost serpentine form, pear-shaped and pale, but any discomfort or hindrance it might pose is invisible to all but the most familiar. This is her realm; her element - gravidity doesn't slow her down. She passes a shipwreck - a bizarre construction sent down from the surface one day long before memory, now crawling with algae and teeming with creatures large and small.

A casual flick of her tail tilts her trajectory. The sea floor does the same, cresting skywards towards an island high above in a slow, easy rise. The kelp forest thins and is soon left behind, giving way to open meadows of stubborn sea-grasses that cling to whatever grounding they can find, and then a steadily increasing diversity of growth and complex life. Oyster beds nestle amongst spires of rock; algae and leafy plants of all shapes and colours, attended to by bright and bizarre fish that dart to and fro or drift lazily in thick, cloud-like shoals. The water is warmer here, nearer the surface, and it thrills her to find herself so close.

She seeks the sun.

This is the border of her realm. Some might disapprove of their queen having a retreat so far from the safety of home, and many would certainly disapprove of her visiting it alone while pregnant with an heir. Slowly, as the waters of the deep thin out and grow less cloudy, rays of light illuminate the ocean floor and all that passes above it. The plants become fatter, greener. She slows her pace, so as not to tire herself, and swarms of fish that glint like clouds of crystal glass part sluggishly to give her passage. At last she arrives at an underwater pool - twin walls of rock curling round to create a secluded bowl-shaped space beneath the sun. It isn't entirely safe here, so far from home, but it's private. Private and beautiful and warm. A place of contemplation and simple comfort that she's visited many times throughout her life. Some habits are hard to break.

She seeks the warmth and light, aiming her muzzle towards the source, but at last she can risk going no farther. The surface is barely out of reach, rippling softly while the afternoon sunlight soaks through. Beyond is a realm of mystery - and of adventure, perhaps, but an adventure for another time. A few gentle flicks of the fin-like hooves (or are they hoof-like fins?) that cap her forelegs let her roll onto her back, and her twin dorsal fins spread slowly like wings to stabilise her position in the water. At last she permits herself to rest, cradled from the currents and tides by her sanctuary of stone, and turns her attention to matters of comfort. Her hooves drift to her swollen middle, now bathed in nurturing light and warmth of an intensity scarcely imagined down in the depths. The glow of the daylight, even filtered through several meters of water, makes her slick, stretched hide glisten and shine a radiant, healthy ivory white.

With feelings of profound relief, she lets her muscles relax. The gentle water and soothing sunlight work together in harmony, drawing the stiffness and worries of the past few months away. Minutes drift by, and then an hour. One of her forelegs droops slowly from her side and hangs loosely below her, while the other slowly, tenderly caresses the surface of her laden belly. She marvels at it - the warmth, the sheen, the feelings of surprise and utter instinctive happiness that grip her heart whenever her foal makes another move.

She smiles, and finds contentment.

Mutant Mare Matinee

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When Boundless told you that she wanted your opinion on a 'secret project', you weren't sure what to expect. You certainly didn't expect her to have you wear a blindfold for ten minutes while she got it ready. Still, you decided to humor her, which is how you wound up sitting in the corner of her room with your hands in your lap, temporarily unable to see, listening to various fabrics being rummaged through and moved around. At least the blindfold's nice - cotton, maybe. Still, by the time the noise comes to a stop, you're getting a bit fidgety. You can't help but wonder if it's all on purpose.

"Alright, hon. You can look now."

You peel the blindfold off your face and look up at Boundless, who's smiling expectantly with her hands behind her back. She's a full two heads taller than you - three if you count the horn - so needing to look up isn't unusual. What is unusual is her outfit. The utilitarian overcoat and simple clothes made from scavenged material are conspicuously absent - in their place is what could only be described as a ballroom gown, upsized and tailored to her unusual physique and of much better quality than average. It's an armless halterneck with a high neckline, complimenting her broad shoulders as well as her substantial bust. The entire article is a deep maroon colour that plays off the olive and forest greens of her coat and mane, conforming easily to the curves of her unnaturally tall and slender body with the blatant exception of her waistline. The twins are getting very good at testing the elasticity of her wardrobe.

Boundless clears her throat, blushing slightly. "Well? How do I look?"

She's wearing thigh-length tights and some slick-looking satin evening gloves; even a little silver necklace that she must have scrounged up somewhere. You bite your lip - in all honesty she looks like she's trying to give you a boner, and boy are you glad you kept your hands in your lap. Still, you try for something a little more tactful and tell her she looks like a princess. It suits her, what with the whole alicorn thing. She smiles pleasantly and takes a step forward, her tail swaying slowly along with her hips.

"Good answer, hon. I was afraid you'd think it looked a bit small - you have no idea how hard it was to find a decent dress or how long it took to upsize without damaging anything."

You point out that it's a lot fancier than her usual and ask if there's a special occasion she's getting ready for. At that she leans forward, cradling the weight of her belly with one hand and poking your chest playfully with the other.

"No, nothing special - I just wanted something pretty to wear. There aren't many of these in my size, you know." She leans back and stretches luxuriantly to her full height, towering over you and putting her hands on her hips. "And it's not every day I get a chance to show off."

You nod; it's just a shame she can't show her creations off more often.

Boundless takes a few slow steps away from you, flaring her wings as much as her small room will allow and giving you a pleasant eyeful of her rear side. The dress flows down her back and rump like water, flaring out to enfold her belly just above the waist. "Well, I do plan on holding onto it. The whole thing was Auri's idea, actually. She thinks it might help if we ever need to negotiate with the 'high class' ponies at Tenpony Tower. It'll need a little tightening up before then, but for now..." She pauses, finishing her sentence by folding her arms behind her head and posing, back arched. Side-on, with every sweeping curve highlighted by the form-fitting gown, she's quite the sight. And judging by that smile she's wearing, that throbbing between your legs was exactly what she was going for.

"Ahh. Well, thank you hon," she sighs, relaxing, "I'm so glad you liked it. There's still a few adjustments to make so I suppose that'll do for now." She pauses, and then that smile creeps right back onto her face. "It took a while to get all this on, what with my magic so weak. How about a little help getting it off again?"

You swallow reflexively and nod, moving up behind her. It's a simple button-up deal that leaves plenty of her back exposed to make room for her wings. Before you can do anything Boundless takes one of your hands and guides it to the small of her back, then slowly drags it to her side and around the broad curvature of her belly. You have to keep inching forward just to keep up, until you find yourself half-hugging her from behind. Reaching all the way around is out of the question.

"Slowly," Boundless purrs, her tail brushing against your legs as your chin meets the space between her shoulderblades, "we don't want anything getting strained."

Carefully, you release the buttons one at a time; Boundless stands patiently until you're done, gently stroking your hand as she keeps your palm in place against the surface of her swollen middle - you're used to this by now; she's in one of those moods where she wants validation and attention more than anything else. Her calm and casual tone is just an act - this close, there's no mistaking the tension in her stance; the slight hitch in her breathing. If you weren't used to her company it would border on intimidating - that slender-looking build is more solid than it looks. All the surface softness is layered over a very palpable layer of muscle. She's not bulging with brute strength like the stories of mutants you've heard would suggest; she's limber, sinewy as tightly coiled cable. Whether that's down to whatever arcane science made her what she is or just good exercise, you're not really in a place to speculate.

Boundless shrugs the dress from her shoulders and steps out, then folds it neatly and sets it aside. Almost nude, she removes the long gloves with unnescessary slowness; she knows you're watching. She enjoys it. Her breasts rest heavily atop her twin-filled belly - alicorn-sized bras are a luxury she can't afford. Suddenly she turns and herds you back to your seat, grinning widely. "You've been very patient, hon. Putting up with me being all fussy." You mumble that it's nothing, but she's not having it. Guiding you into a sitting position, she moves forward and rests herself in your lap, steadying herself by holding onto the backrest. It creaks under your combined weight, but holds steady. She straddles your legs; her belly fills your lap with warm, potent mass, forcing you as far back into the seat as you can go, and her chest fills the bulk of your field of vision until you look up into her eyes. Eyes that shine with playful intent and salacious ideas. "You know, we're going to be all alone for a little while. Corona's busy with her science and we've got almost an hour until Auri checks in from guard duty. How should I reward you for being so helpful, hmm?"

It's a rhetorical question, of course. You're in no position to decide anything. Nonetheless, you rest your palms on her belly. Boundless makes your hands look tiny; all that extra height really accentuates how big she is - it's all proportionate to her frame, but compared to the average mare she's simply huge in every respect. You ask her how the foals are doing, dragging your palms in slow circles across the great green expanse of womb pinning you to the chair.

"Fine, hon. Just- ohhh..." Her wings flutter and her eyes begin to drift. You smirk at the reaction you cause as you bring your fingers into play, kneading firmly with the tips and digging in the heels of your hands. Not roughly, but with enough force that you can feel her body give way just a little; feel the internal pressure resist you. There's so much tummy on display that you can outright grope it. You're easily at full mast now, the bulge in your pants compressed under her weight. She has to feel it. Her response is quick and decisive - holding your head she pulls you closer, closer, until you're practically draped across her, your face buried in the cushiony cleft of her bosom. She smells of earth and freshly machined cotton. Your hands wander to the widest points of her belly, practically hugging it, kneading and toying with her stretched and tender skin.

It isn't long before you start to feel movement in response - the twins are awake, and apparently just as interested in playing with their mother as you are. Boundless collects herself and smiles, fingertips sliding down your neck. Her breath quickens, deepens, a bright flush sweeping across her face; those stocking-clad thighs squeeze your own as she squirms and leans into you even more, all that weight bearing down on your body, her plump navel poking you just below the breastbone. "Goodness, hon," she murmurs before pausing to lick her lips, "If I'd known you were so into this sort of thing I'd have hired you earlier."

You rest your head between her breasts and, peeking up at her, point out that you're not the only one.

"Oh, you have no idea how into this I am," she says, ruffling your hair. "Now, stay right there. This can't all be about me." She carefully pulls out of your embrace and down onto her knees in front of you, her stance wide with that belly in the way, and even like that you're eye to eye. Almost as soon as you register what she's doing, her hands make quick work of your pants and your manhood springs free. You'd never been unsatisfied with your size in that area, but Boundless makes it look small - like even looking at it is doing you a favor. Then before you can speak, you feel her tongue, broad and thick and wet, cradling the base and rising to the tip in an agonisingly quick sweeping motion.

"Nervous, hon?" Boundless asks, resting a steadying hand on your knee. Trembling and sweating buckets, you shake your head. "Don't worry," she croons softly, leaning in again, bathing your length in her warm breath. Her horn alights and you hear her voice whispering in your head, while at the same time a smooth flick of her neck has her take the entire thing into her muzzle with a single motion. "I'll talk you through it."

You can't help but arch your back and grab onto something as the tip of your cock bumps the back of her mouth, that leathery tongue coiling around it; all but encasing it in a tunnel of solid muscle that twitches and squirms, teasing and exploring. "What's the matter, hon? We can stop, if you want."

You shake your head. Not that you have the capacity to form words right now - Boundless' motions are slow, and you can't tear your eyes off her. That sultry, knowing stare she gives you as she makes your entire cock disappear effortlessly - the plump, heaving breasts below that, resting atop that gloriously swollen belly. Presumably her telepathy spell isn't very draining for her at such a short range - she doesn't seem bothered by it.

"Never been sucked off by a pregnant mare before?"

Again you motion in the negative, taken off guard by the directness of the question. You've never been sucked off by a mare mutated into the image of a princess while she talks straight into your head before either, but you keep that bit quiet. And on the subject of being taken off guard - nothing could have prepared you for when she starts to bob her head, lips sealed tightly together, adding pleasurable friction to the bath of heat and moisture already soaking your dick. "Look at you, getting blown by a mutant. How dirty. How depraved. What would the ponies back home think?" You know she's just playing around - you know she's more than that and she does too - but she's pressing all sorts of buttons and damn if it isn't working. Everything feels stiff; twitchy. You're not going to last long like this.

She's had practice; or perhaps she's just a natural, or perhaps it's an alicorn thing, or- "My sisters are missing out," says the voice in your head, sultry and soft. Boundless' tongue slides all over, squeezing and caressing, leaving tingles of sensation buzzing wherever it touches, and your train of thought comes to a sudden and complete stop. "You're thinking about me, aren't you? All swollen and heavy. All yours." Your hips jerk on their own, involuntary, and you blow your load right into her mouth.

The door opens. Boundless blinks in surprise at the sound and swallows quickly on reflex, which just sets you off again. In the doorway stands Auriga, a full nine feet of dour, intimidating purple alicorn, a long piece of rebar hovering idly in her magic. With Boundless hunched over you she can't quite see what you're doing, but her raised eyebrow and rail-straight lips say everything there is to say about her mood. "Sister? What are you doing?"

Boundless splutters, eyes wide, the light of her horn winking out in an instant. She sits up but carries on looking straight at you, rather than back at the door. A string of your seed trickles from the corner of her mouth. "What are you doing, Auri?"

"I came inside to speak to Corona. There were..." She pauses and sniffs suspiciously. "Noises."

"I'm taking his measurements, Auri! For clothes!" It's a bare-faced lie, and Auriga doesn't budge.

"You're naked," she points out.

"It's hot!"

"I can see that," the purple mare says with the smallest of nods. "You're both very sweaty. Perhaps we should find you a fan."

Boundless huffs indignantly, her cheeks overcome with a furious blush. "Do you want something?"

"Only to see that my dear sister is safe and making productive use of her time."

"Mission accomplished! Well done!" Boundless blurts out. "Everything is perfectly fine!"

"Quite. You have half an hour to finish your business before dinner." Auriga closes the door and leaves as promptly and dispassionately as she arrived, leaving you and a very flustered Boundless alone once again. There's a few long seconds of heavy, awkward silence.

Boundless wipes her muzzle and grouses out loud, "I swear she does that on purpose."

You shrug. No harm done, and hey - half an hour!

Swollen Sunbutt's Space-filling Shenanigans

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"I'm sorry for worrying so much, Princess," Twilight stammered, rubbing her forehooves together anxiously, "but are you sure it's a good idea for you to be out and about like this?"

Princess Celestia smiled patiently, polishing off a plate of buttered toast and ice cream. Warm morning light streamed in through the castle window; with the sun raised and breakfast almost out of the way, another busy day lay just ahead. "Whatever do you mean, Twilight?"

Twilight stood and started pacing, her magic drawing several books from the bulging saddlebag at her side. "Well, it's just that Pureheart's Papers on Pony Pregnancy recommends that a mare getting close to her term should get as much rest as she can. Marigold Mantra's Magical Multiples says that stress can cause complications." Her voice began rising in pitch, eyes widening as she drove herself deeper into a whirlpool of worry. "Did you read Flora Flicker's What to Forsee When You're Fecund? And then there's Starswirl's Secondary Sexual Study Series, which..." She caught herself and paused for breath, wilting under Celestia's tolerant gaze. "It's just... you're still working? Like this?" Twilight asked, putting a halt to her agitated pacing to throw her hooves in the air.

"Of course," Celestia said. "Is there a problem? You haven't touched your food."

"You're as wide as the table," Twilight pointed out. Frazzled as she was by months of fussing over an increasingly gravid, frustratingly nonchalant Celestia, tact had begun to slip from her grasp.

Celestia glanced over her shoulder, chewing indolently on a mouthful of heavily buttered toast. A hefty silence loomed until she was done. "So I am," she noted calmly. And so she was. She was eating standing up - indeed, it was only thanks to her grand, long-legged stature that she could manage to stand at all. Her belly had ballooned over the past few weeks in particular, quite literally packing on the pounds, not to mention inches, with no sign of stopping.

"Twilight," Celestia sighed, cupping her former student's chin supportively, "I'm only five months along, and there's lots to do. I appreciate your concern, but-"

Twilight blinked. "Five months?" she blurted in shock, her collection of books tumbling to the floor. Celestia nodded, her smile widening ever so slightly. "B-but," Twilight stammered, "you're huge!"

"I can forgive that little misjudgement, I suppose," Celestia teased, quietly wondering how long it would be before Twilight's jaw could close again. In all fairness, she was getting rather large. Her ivory-coloured midsection bulged pendulously, the short velvety fur stretched widely across her burgeoning womb. Signs of fullness were beginning to show, breaking up the rounded surface with its own subtle geography - little pale-pink ridges of veins and arteries that bordered the smooth, tender plains of her underside. Perhaps the most striking feature was the way her belly had expanded outwards to her sides; Celestia's gravid state was making her belly not only bigger and heavier in general, but quite appreciably wider. And with half a year to go, that fact was only going to get more and more pronounced.

Twilight took a few seconds to find her voice. "A-are you sure you're okay to move around? I mean, that's..."

Celestia shushed her quickly, ever the paragon of patience and calm. "Trust me." Of course she was sure - her body was practically buzzing with enchantments and potions to assist its movement and endurance, and had been for weeks now. Not that Twilight's worry was unfounded - she had spent a night with (former) Dragon Lord Torch six months ago, under the pretence of 'diplomatic outreach' and with the help of a few very powerful growth spells. Twilight didn't need to know about that just yet, of course. "Now, I've a few events to attend. How about this? You can come with me, and if I start getting tired or anything goes wrong, I shall retire for the afternoon so that you can take my place."

Twilight sighed, her gaze turning downwards. "Well, alright. I jus-" She found herself cut off as the great firm mass of Celestia's swollen middle bumped into the side of her head, almost knocking her off balance. It was like getting body-checked by a fluffy zeppelin.

"Come along, Twilight," Celestia said, smiling serenely and apparently oblivious as she headed for the door. "We're behind schedule already."

-----

The first stop of the day was mercifully close by - the grand opening of a new confectionery shop on Canterlot's main street. Celestia arrived with her guards in tow and Twilight hovering nervously above, to be met with a small but enthusiastic crowd of smiling faces. The opening ceremony was a simple one, but slowed down somewhat by the constant stream of well-wishes and compliments directed at Celestia herself. The owners were ecstatic - to have their new store graced not only by Princess Celestia, but Princess Twilight as well! The princess of the sun accepted all this with centuries-practised grace, while Twilight's smiles and platitudes grew more and more forced as the morning wore on, torn as she was between the need to keep up appearances and the ever present vigil she kept over Celestia. One grunt of discomfort, one misplaced hoof, one unscheduled rest stop, and the princess would be getting teleported straight back to Canterlot Castle for a rest.

Celestia, for her part, was unfazed. In fact, beneath her veneer of regal dignity she was quietly overjoyed that the morning's appointment involved cake. She sampled as many sweet treats as public decency and table manners would allow. And then a few more. And a couple after that. By the time her schedule demanded that they move on, Celestia found herself (and her many foals) entirely satiated; it still took some effort, physical and mental alike, to haul her gravid bulk up and out of her seat. She graciously thanked the shop's owners for their hospitality and made her way towards the exit, where a sky chariot would be waiting.

Ponies held Princess Celestia in great respect, and it was entirely normal for them to make way for her. Many underestimated just how much space she needed as of late, though, leading to more than a few getting bumped by her bump. She wasn't even moving quickly - there just wasn't quite enough space. Nobody would have the courage to say it in polite company, but Celestia's belly wasn't the only thing that had been getting bigger as of late. It seemed that every other calorie that wasn't going to her foals (Or were they eggs? Crossbreeding could be unpredictable sometimes) had been sequestered away to her rump. The twin suns adorning her backside increased in diameter on a daily basis. She'd have been dangerously back-heavy if her center of gravity wasn't so low. And so, head held high, the princess waddled and jiggled her way out of the cake shop. Twilight brought up the rear, her own path entirely clear as if she were walking in the wake of a ship, offering sheepish apologies and getting nervous, bashful and occasionally amorous glances in return.

Outside, Twilight found herself having to squeeze to get into the Princess' chariot. Celestia boarded first, and her girth left little room for other passengers. As the guards hooked themselves up and the entire contraption took flight the smaller alicorn found herself squashed between the padded wall of the carriage and the softer, warmer but equally immovable wall of Celestia's midsection.

Celestia simply patted Twilight's back with her swan-like wing, wiggling into her seat to afford whatever room was available. "That wasn't so bad. Now, I'm due to make an appearance at an art gallery in Manehattan this afternoon."

"But-"

"Then to Fillydelphia for tea with the mayor," Celestia continued, "and after that it's back to the castle to hold court until the evening. You're welcome to join me, of course."

Twilight would have tilted her head quizzically, had she the room. "But that's so much work! You're - um, you were..." She bit her lip. Surely Celestia knew that she'd caused a bit of a scene.

Celestia offered up a calm, confident smile. "Oh, Twilight. You talk as if I've never done this before."

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to be touring around Equestria like nothing's different?" Twilight asked, forelegs curled against her chest in a desperate attempt at politeness. "This isn't normal, Princess."

"Perhaps not," Celestia chuckled, "but it is fun."

Twilight found herself shaking, her face reddening and scrunching up as if she were poised to have a conniption. "You got pregnant - enormously, absurdly, impossibly pregnant - for fun?!"

"Of course not," Celestia said, hugging Twilight close. "It's all for the good of Equestria. Half the fun is seeing your face like that."

"But..."

"And the other half is that nobody else has been daring enough to say anything yet."

Twilight sighed, resigned at last to her somewhat squashed position in the chariot, and nuzzled the warm, heavy bulk pinning her in place. Her mentor's affectionate behavior was starting to get contagious. "You're bumping into people on purpose, aren't you?"

Celestia's reply was a pat on the back and a playful wink.

Polishing the Pear

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Warm summer air wafted in through an upstairs window of the Apple Family house, carrying with it all the scents of a thriving farm. In particular, not even a city pony could miss the earthy smell of ripe, juicy apples mere days from harvest. It was tantalising - invigorating, even. The gentle daylight and crisp atmosphere made for the perfect afternoon for a pony to spend outdoors, whether working or just frolicking in the sun.

Buttercup gazed idly at the sky through her bedroom window, sprawled out lethargically on the bed, and pouted as the wonderful weather teased her. She wanted nothing more than to be outside helping Bright and Smith get ready for the harvest time, but she just didn't have the energy. On top of that, the doctor's orders had been to get plenty of bed rest for the sake of her blood pressure. She pouted to herself, silently cursing her treasonous stomach, cramp-prone legs, and aching hooves.

The apples weren't the only thing ripening this season - as overjoyed as everyone had been to hear that she and Bright were expecting their first child, a strong and healthy colt, nobody had predicted that he might be so large. The past months had seen the developing foal - and consequently Buttercup's middle - grow dramatically, and while there'd been no end to her happiness at the whole ordeal, lately she just felt full. Full and heavy and exhausted.

The culprit behind all of Buttercup's discomfort squirmed energetically, unsettling the blushing, peach-coloured surface of her belly. It was enough to make her wince, and she rolled over with a low groan. Clutching at the sheets in frustration, she was far past the point of caring about how the constant tossing and turning had been making a mess of her curly ginger hair. The new position wasn't any more comfortable than the last one, and instead brought that pout of irritation back with a vengeance. For a moment Buttercup considered trying to distract herself by playing her guitar, but that would mean getting up. And getting up was completely out of the question. Presently though, she heard the door open followed by the sound of hoofsteps coming up the stairs, and drew herself up into something approaching a sitting position.

Bright Mac knocked gently at the bedroom door and peeked inside, initially worried that his wife might be asleep. But seeing her sat there with tired eyes, the mother of all bed manes and a great big orb of a tummy fighting her hind legs for space put paid to that thought. "How you two doin'?" he asked cautiously.

"Sore."

Bright let himself into the room, closed the door quietly and made his way to the bedside. Dishevelled as she might be, the mere sight of Buttercup lifted his spirits and he couldn't help but smile. "Makin' good progress out in the orchard, but you've been inside all day. Was worried you might need a little cheerin' up."

"More like I need this foal outta me before it drives me crazy," Buttercup deadpanned, poking at her rounded form.

Bright leaned across the bed and gently nuzzled her side, drawing a tiny noise of approval. "Any more ideas for the name?"

"Big."

That got a chuckle out of him. "That bad, huh?"

Buttercup nodded, her voice cracking. "It's awful, Mac. Everythin's so tiresome an' uncomfortable."

Bright climbed up onto the bed and settled down behind his wife, drawing her gently back against his body so that she had somewhere to lean her weight. She worked her head into the crook of his shoulder with a sigh, resting her forehooves on the near face of her belly as he held her in a protective embrace. It helped, even though both of them noticed how leaning back made her womb jut out more. "Don't you worry," he said, "won't be long now."

"Worst's yet to come," she muttered.

"Aw, it can't be all that bad," Bright said, leaning over to one side. With easy dexterity, he took a plastic bottle from the bedside table in his mouth and transferred it to Buttercup's hooves.

"Olive oil?" she asked, eyebrow raised. She'd been meaning to ask why he'd started to keep such a thing by their bed, but her mind had been firmly on weightier matters for the past few days. "There's enough cookin' goin' on in this oven already."

Bright shook his head gently, his snout once again buried in Buttercup's mane. She smelt of pears and fresh-cut timber. "Not just for cookin'. It does wonders for muscle fatigue."

"Don't think I've been eatin' enough weird things lately?"

He chuckled, carefully turning the bottle over in Buttercup's hooves so that the nozzle was pointing downwards, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "It works as a massage oil, darlin'."

It took scarcely a moment for Buttercup to realise what he meant, eyes widening in realisation, and less than a second for her to impulsively squeeze the bottle. A jet of thick, clear oil spattered across the surface of her swollen womb, quickly beginning to slide and curve towards the bed under the effect of gravity. An errant drop beaded atop the perky bulge that was her navel. Buttercup squeaked, tossing the bottle across the room on reflex. "Cold!" she cried, forelegs in the air. And then she felt his broad hooves come down on the surface of her tummy, firm and sure, and begin to rub softly in broad, sweeping curved motions, spreading the oil around.

Bright hugged his wife against his thick chest, listening to her gasp softly and squirm deeper into his embrace. He took everything slowly, recognising how tender and stressed she must have been feeling, while at the same time seizing the opportunity (any opportunity) to be close to her. The oil made his hooves glide with ease, spreading quickly amongst her sparse fur and into the firm, tense skin beneath. Eventually he leaned back against the headrest, taking his lovely mare with him and into his lap, and felt her rest her own hooves on top of his, guiding and encouraging them.

Buttercup was amazed at how pleasant the oil felt, and very quickly let Bright take complete control. Before long she had relaxed completely, murmuring little words of happiness under her breath. Their foal kept on squirming throughout, but every time it met her husband's hoof his own smile brightened, and all of a sudden she found herself much more willing to put up with it. Before long, when the massage came to an end and Bright simply gathered her up and held her, she was so blissed out that she almost felt she could fall asleep. Looking down at herself, she marvelled at how the thin sheen of oil made her overfilled tummy shine in the afternoon light and couldn't resist a drowsy little giggle.

"Polishin' your big apple up for market, huh?"

Bright gave her a playful little squeeze, nosing at her chin. "Market? Never. We could go put you out on display if you like. Win a few ribbons."

Buttercup twitched her tail, a little indignity creeping back into her voice despite a giddy smirk. "Nopony can ever see me like this."

"Guess I've got the most beautiful mare in Equestria all to myself, then."

She kissed his chin and settled back, all her worries and discomfort forgotten for the moment, and fought the urge to yawn. "Y-up."

Double Grounded

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The moment she reached the top of the treacherous stone staircase to the peak of Mount Aris, Pinkie Pie was seized by a pair of taloned paws and drawn into a hug so tight and sincere that it left her even more breathless than the climb.

"Pinkie!" Princess Skystar exclaimed, burying the smaller pony's head in her feathered chest, "You're here!"

Pinkie drew back and gasped for breath, breaking into a broad grin at the sight of the hippogriff princess and returning the embrace as best he could. "Of course, silly! I never miss a bi-monthly saving-equestria-for-like-the-dozenth time new friend meetup!"

Skystar's beak spread into a grin equally wide, and she eased herself down onto her haunches to give Pinkie a little room to breathe. "Ooh, we're going to have so much fun! I can show you the palace refurbishments and the new market-"

"-and I can catch up with Shelley and Sheldon and Queen Novo-" Pinkie cut her off, so smoothly that it was almost as if she knew precisely what Skystar was going to say.

"-and you can tell me all about how Princess Twilight and the others are doing-"

"-and we can fly all the say up to the very summit and watch the sunset..."

Skystar hesitated. "Oh. Um... Pinkie, I don't think we can do that this time."

"Wh-what's wrong?" Pinkie asked, her enthusiasm deflating.

The hippogriff princess scratched her neck, lowering her voice. "I'm, ah, supposed to be grounded."

Pinkie gasped, shocked. "Grounded? Again? Oh Starry, what did you do this time?"

Skystar let Pinkie go, rising to all fours again. "Oh no, no. Not like that. Well, not entirely like that. See - I'm grounded." She motioned to the tremendous round swell of her midsection, and then demonstrated by flapping her wings and taking to the air. Or at least attempting to. For a few fleeting, gravity defying seconds, the very pregnant Princess Skystar hovered a few inches off the ground with all the grace of a blimp. She slowly eased herself back down, grinning bashfully.

"Ohhhhhhhh," Pinkie acknowledged. "Grounded."

"Well, and Mom ordered me not to fly any more until the foals are here," Skystar huffed, settling her center of gravity. "It's not my fault she left that priceless vase in such a narrow corridor."

Pinkie giggled and, gossiping, they proceeded into the city together side by salient side. With the Storm King defeated and the southern reaches of Equestria safe once more, the hippogriffs had reclaimed their mountaintop capital. All around were the sights and sounds of a town slowly and happily waking up from years of quiet slumber. Sounds of construction and commerce filled the air, as did the duelling smells of fresh paint and fresher food.

Skystar's pregnancy was no secret by now, of course; the inevitable result of partying a little too hard on the eve of Canterlot's liberation had rendered the heir of Mount Aris and Seaquestria with heirs of her own. Hippogriff and pony alike had celebrated the announcement in light of their newfound alliance. But by this point, as the months passed and the royal birth crept lazily but inevitably closer, even Pinkie was surprised at just how big Skystar had been getting. Every bi-monthly visit, the jubilant cream-coloured hippogriff had greeted Pinkie at the head of the stairs, her tummy appreciably rounder, heavier and more tightly-packed than the last time. By now it was only thanks to her slender, long-legged build that she could still walk at all. The belly she sported for this latest visit would have floored even the stoutest earth pony, but she nonetheless insisted on meeting her friend at the city gates and walking her to the palace just as she had every single time previously. Nothing could stop her - not her mother, not the royal guard; not even the weight and mass of eight healthy, active baby hippogriffs crowding her abdomen.

While Pinkie bounced along, energetic and apparently weightless as always, Skystar waddled blithely at her side, chattering away as if nothing at all had changed since they first met. The mass of her belly hung more than halfway to the ground, widening brazenly outwards to both sides, forcing her to take a wide stance. She spread out her stubby, taloned forepaws to distribute weight while her hooves did the hard work of propelling her forward. Even that ponderous gait wasn't enough to keep her entirely stable, each small movement causing her swollen belly to sway. Slowly, but with all the potential of a butter-coloured wrecking ball. Ground-bound hippogriffs respectfully evacuated their princess' path to the palace, quietly taking anything fragile or edible with them.

The guards' stoic vigils cracked slightly; they pointed awkward looks at the floors, ceilings, each other and occasionally Skystar herself. Okay, so bedding her mother's entire honor guard that night in Canterlot might not have been the wisest decision, but she was a hero and also grounded. Who could blame her, really? Maybe she was just that pent up after so long exiled beneath the sea. On top of that, she was sure that Equestrian food did something funny to hippogriffs (so good!). Of course, this meant that nopony actually knew for sure who the father was - it could have been any one of the palace guard. Or more than one. Or all of them. The only way to find out was to wait and see. None of this had escaped Pinkie's notice, of course, and the moment they were safely inside Princess Skystar's room (temporarily relocated to the ground floor) and a faintly blushing guard closed the door behind them, the two friends broke out into a fit of lighthearted sniggering.

The room itself was colourful and cosy, decorated with a chaotic mix of new furnishings and familiar trinkets brought up from Seaquestria. Shells in abundance, of course, but exotic-looking shards of coral and precious gemstones also decorated the room. Shelley and Sheldon watched over the entire strange scene from a strategically placed shelf, their googly-eyed stares as uncritical as ever. Queen Novo had spared no expense in ensuring her daughter's comfort; Skystar eased herself down onto a large, opulently plush floor mattress. Despite her boundless energy and enthusiasm for socialising, the gravid hippogriff had to admit that it was time to take a load off her poor limbs for a few minutes. Just a quick break to sit down. Or lie down. Or lie down, roll over and lounge. It wasn't long before heaviness and inertia had sprawled her on one side, the mass of her belly lifted prominently into the air with the underside exposed.

"Make yourself at home," she said brightly after biting back a yawn. "I just need a minute. We can do... stuff."

Pinkie gasped in shock. "Ooh! Almost forgot! I said hi to you, but not everyone else!"

Within moments, Pinkie had descended on Skystar's prone and rotund form, drawing close to the mammoth cream-coloured swell and prodding it gently. "Hi number one! Hi number two! Do they have names yet? Hi number three!" Unable to reach the entire thing from one position, the hyperactive mare flitted around Skystar like a hummingbird with no sense of direction or personal space. Whatever bizarre powers of perception Pinkie possessed, she had located all eight little ones in a matter of seconds - and woken them all up with gentle hoof bumps. Eager to greet her with what seemed like equal enthusiasm, Skystar's little passengers began to clamour and fidget, sending gentle but visible ripples of motion moving across the taut expanse of her tummy.

Skystar giggled out loud, clutching her suddenly very active and ticklish tummy to try and contain the little storm of kicks. "H-hey!" She tried to playfully swat Pinkie away, but after some fruitless flailing she instead laid her paws on her belly and began to rub gently in an attempt to calm her boisterous brood down. "One day I'm going to figure out how you do that." She sighed softly, splaying her toes. "Haven't picked names yet. There's so many good ones to choose from - and their daddy will want a say too." She paused, then smiled warmly. "And they say hi."

Pinkie grinned, leaning in close to give Skystar - or more appropriately, her midsection - a big hug of her own. The hippogriff's entire body was covered with cotton-soft, downy feathers and her belly was no exception. Even with the feathers a little more spread than usual the entire thing, brimming with life, was as supportive and warm as a freshly laundered cushion. She felt like she could just sink into it and relax the afternoon away, and was half-tempted to do just that. Pinkie brushed her cheek against great downy mountain, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. "Heya. Don't tell mom, but I bought cake..."

Skystar squirmed, trying to get her paws on the pesky pink party pony, but it was simply no use. Even without being weighed down by over half a dozen princes and princesses-to-be, she couldn't have hoped to match Pinkie's bizarre speed. But then, the moment she opened her beak to protest the teasing, Pinkie held a delicious-looking slice of chocolate cake right in front of her face, producing it as if from nowhere. With a single mammoth bite she snatched the entire thing from Pinkie's hoof and gobbled it down in one go. It tasted divine; a generous outer layer of thick and creamy icing with a soft, filling sponge center. The sort of decadent treat that only Equestrian cooking could provide. The rest of the cake lay tantalizingly out of reach off to one side on the bedside table.

"Don't eat it too fast, Starry," Pinkie mock-scolded. "You'll get a tummyache."

Skystar pouted, attempting to right herself while licking crumbs from her beak. "But I'm hungry now..." she whined, trying and failing to match Pinkie's playful insincerity.

Pinkie relented, moving to fetch the cake before Skystar could exert herself. "Yowie. Mrs. Cake couldn't stop sneaking little bits of her own pastries when she was getting ready to have the twins. You must be ravenous, huh?"

Skystar nodded, stretching her legs and leaning towards her friend expectantly. "All the time, Pinkie," she groaned. "Still a month to go and I feel like a whale."

Pinkie shrugged, propped her head and shoulder gently against the princess' soft, octuplet-packed midriff, then sank down until she had settled into a comfortable snuggling position in the shadow of her friend's looming tum. Comfortably situated, she offered up another slice of the delectable cake. Wordlessly Skystar took the treat between her paws and devoured it with alarming speed. "Starry," Pinkie said, absent-mindedly stroking the wall of smooth, soft hippogriff she lay beside, "Want to just relax today instead of running around and doing stuff?"

"Cake first. Then... maybe nap."

Ground Zero

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Night had fallen across Mount Aris hours ago, and yet Princess Skystar couldn't sleep. She groaned in frustration, resting her chin between her forelegs and kicking fitfully at her sheets. All reason suggested that she should have felt tired - the day had been busy - but she simply felt restless. Not just restless; she also felt hot and heavy and stiff and full, and was quite fed up with all of that.

Skystar's already cumbersome octuplet pregnancy had gone into overdrive over the final month, packing on visible mass almost daily. Walking had gone from a chore to a genuine struggle, the hippogriff's lanky limbs steadily losing the battle for territory against her expanding womb. On the increasingly rare occasion that she made it out of bed, its lowest point barely cleared the floor. Lying on her side as she was now meant that the entire thing was forced upwards, looming like a down-coated mountain of life. Her bedsheet barely covered her.

Two days overdue and without any clear sign of labor, she'd spent the day with the nurse and her mother trying everything they could think of to gently set things moving.

Castor oil? Useless.
Breathing exercises? Nope.
A cheeky romp with one of the guards while Novo wasn't looking? Fun, but fruitless.
Acupuncture? Neither fun nor helpful.
Jogging? Yoga? Impossible.

Pinkie had even cooked up "Mrs Cake's Secret Weapon", a cupcake made from ingredients so utterly bizarre that only a pregnant mare would even consider eating it in the first place. Herbs and spices and seafood and seasoning - the list of ingredients alone covered an entire scroll. It had tasted paradoxically disgusting and delicious all at once... and had accomplished exactly nothing. Not even a braxton-hicks.

That wasn't to say that Pinkie had been unhelpful. The pink pony's bi-monthly visits had been abandoned in favour of an extended stay, and said pony had utterly refused to leave Skystar's ever-widening side. She was snuggled up against Skystar's tummy like a cat against a cushion, snoring peacefully. Pinkie's never-ending sense of fun had helped keep her emotions in check, and a helping hoof was always welcome - whether to steady her when the foals threatened to throw her off balance, rub her belly to calm them down, or deal with the other ever-expanding problem between her hind legs. The impending demand of eight foals had made her teats swell like balloons; soft, heavy, maddeningly sensitive balloons her paws had no chance of reaching. The sheer dexterity that an earth pony could demonstrate with their mouth would have made the beaked princess feel jealous - if it hadn't simultaneously made her feel all sorts of other, overwhelmingly more pleasant things...

Skystar sighed, closing her eyes. Perhaps tomorrow things would change and she'd get to meet her foals at last. The thought was comforting. Worrying, for obvious reasons, but comforting. For what felt like the dozenth time that night, she willed herself to simply relax and rest. Slowly, teasingly, like a feather drifting from a mountaintop, her cares and worries began to fall away and she began to drift off to sleep.

One of her many foals took this as the perfect opportunity to start kicking. The big, heavy one right next to her gut.

"Oh come on." Skystar groaned softly, "Don't make me get up at two in the morning..."

Another set of little limbs started kicking. And then another, and another. Soon her entire brood - the only word for the collective of little hippogriffs she'd been carrying for almost a year - was wrestling and squirming. The entire overloaded mass of her womb was alive with life-affirming, ticklish, wonderful, distracting motion. Sleep was off the table. It was frustrating enough to make Skystar dig her beak and talons into her pillow and whine out loud.

...but then there was something else. Her eyes opened wide and sweat began to roll down her brow. She felt tense. Nervous. Tight. A ripple of sensation passed across the taut surface of her belly, the bulk of it passing quickly but lingering like an earth tremor. It only agitated her foals, and within seconds they were practically thrashing.

Fighting shock, Skystar took a slow, deep breath. "P-pinkie?"

It came again. Stronger, faster. A wave of pressure that ripped through her like lightning. She grit her teeth and moaned, tossing off her blanket as she splayed her wings. In the dim starlight permitted by the window, the great pale roundness of her midsection visibly pulsed for the third time in under a minute, abdominal muscles clenching with what felt like vicelike force. Her talons curled and she gasped for breath. There was no doubt that she was going into labor but it was so sudden; so bluntly, undeniably strong that she was almost locked in place.

"Pinkie... wake up!" she hissed, trying helplessly to get her hooves under her. Another forceful contraction made clear that getting out of bed simply wasn't going to happen. "Come on - wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Pinkie stirred and mumbled to herself. The obvious cost of having all that energy during the day: the party pony was a very heavy sleeper. What woke her up wasn't so much Skystar's breathless cries for help as the fact that her improputu pillow had suddenly gotten very, very active. "Starry?" she asked groggily, ears drooping and one eye open, "What's-" The hippogriff cut her off with a low howl of distress, taloned paws clutching at her trembling belly as her abdominal muscles clenched in their own relentless rhythm.

Pinkie sat up in an instant, rubbing her eyes and hurrying to Skystar's head. "Aaaah! What's going on? What do I do?"

Skystar panted for breath, still winded from just how overwhelmingly sudden this all was. She'd almost grown used to feeling like a stuffed manatee, but this primal sensation of fullness - of unstoppable, primal pressure - it was as if she might pass out or explode at any moment. Sweat beaded her freckled face, and it took her a moment to even register that Pinkie was even there.

"G-go get the nurse, Pinkie," she gasped. "And some water. And every last towel in the castle..."

Pinkie took Skystar's paw between her hooves, eyes darting between the struggling hippogriff's face and the equally stressed but much, much larger volume of her abdomen. "But Starry, that means leaving you on your own and-"

Skystar opened her beak, but nothing came out except a short gasp. They both heard and felt that colossal womb give another shuddering exertion, the strongest yet by far, and with a loud pop and ominous gushing sound the dam gave way all at once. The mattress - already slightly damp in a few spots thanks to Skystar's overactive mammaries - was soaked in moments as her water broke with the force of a miniature cannon.

Pinkie yelped as Skystar's talons sank into her foreleg, and the hippogriff princess' expression morphed from one of abject shock to the most serious look Pinkie had recieved in her entire life, so intense that it bordered on predatory.

"NOW."

They kept eye contact as Pinkie hurried for the door, and just as she reached it Skystar's face softened. For a few seconds she was overwhelmingly happy - almost serene, despite the stress and physical strain. "A-and Pinkie? Please get my mom. Tell her it's almost time to meet her grandfoals."

The sound of galloping (and high-pitched shouting loud enough to wake every living being on Mount Aris) receded into the corridor. As her body took a merciful moment of calm to compose itself, Skystar took a deep, steadying breath. With how quickly things were going the first foal might only be minutes away. The mere thought elated her. She swept her feather-like hair from where it had fallen across her face, flexed her talons and glanced up at Shelley and Sheldon, watching as always from their perch on the shelf. That - their blank, clammy faces reminded her - had been the easy part...

Tempest's Teasing Timeout

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You are Anon, and you're in Equestria. Why? Who knows? More importantly, who cares? It's a beautiful spring day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and you're relaxing on one of Ponyville's various public benches watching the colourful horse people go about their day. It's one of those alternate realities where all the ponies walk on two legs and have hands and wear clothes and all that, but practice tells you it's probably better not to think about that too hard. Most of them seem busy or cautious enough to give you a wide berth, so you've got plenty of space all to yourself.

You find your attention drawn to a mare heading down the path in your direction at a steady jog, sweating so hard that the sunlight actually glints off her plum-coloured fur and almost makes you avert your eyes. And no wonder - she's carrying a rotund tummy that makes her look like she should be lying in bed at the maternity ward, not running track in a sports bra and spandex shorts. Actually, as she draws closer she becomes easy to recognise. Stern eyes, well-muscled and obviously fit, little broken stub of a horn - even a few scars. You don't see those on ponies very often.

Tempest Shadow, former commander of the Storm King's personal army and scourge of the southern skies. The mare who conquered Canterlot, drove the entire hippogriff species into hiding, and single-handedly defeated Princess Celestia. You'd heard something about her reforming, becoming some kind of ambassador and settling down as good friends with Princess Twilight, but that's starting to look like the understatement of the century.

Just as it looks like she's going to amble on past, Tempest lets out a low breath and purposefully sits down on the opposite end of the bench. She's been pushing herself hard; you can almost feel the heat radiating off her body. She leans back, breathing deeply as she drapes one arm over the backboard and takes the towel from around her neck with the other to dry herself. The purple pony doesn't even seem to notice you're there, dabbing at her slick forehead as she eases into a casual slouch with her legs wide. She's tall and lanky, easily a full head over you. Her bare, lap-filling belly aggressively competes with her brawny thighs for space, perspiration rolling down it in thin streams. That tummy's not the only part of her staking a claim on the open air, either. Her sports bra might have been modest six months ago, but right now it's riding up so high that it might as well be a sweatband with straps.

She moves the towel down to the rotund swell of her midsection, gently wiping away at it. Casually, as if you're only worth a moment's notice, she glances in your direction with a judgmental tilt of her head. "Yeah, yeah. People stare a lot. Yes, they're Twilight's. You wouldn't be the first to ask."

That little voice of self-restraint at the back of your head is telling you that getting a raging boner in a public park is a very bad idea. The only thing worse is getting one right in front of a woman that could probably break half your bones without much trouble, ready to pop or not.

Either way, Tempest notices you fidgeting. She lets out a short laugh, casually fanning herself as she shifts her weight towards the center of the bench. "Like what you see, huh?" Without warning her hand shoots out and grabs your wrist with suprising strength, that shy smile morphs into a devious little grin, and she presses your palm against the surface of her gravid middle. It's rock hard and porcelain-smooth under the thin, sweat-slicked fur. She's packed tight, her womb the size of an exercise ball and firm as a drum. A slow stream of perspiration still keeps on dripping from the tip of her protruding belly button.

Boner, no! She's doing this on purpose! She's not a reformed villain! She's pure evil! You're in public! Think of the children! Wait, no - don't think of the children! That's how we got into this mess in the first place!

"We didn't count on alicorn fertility," she explains, that smile growing with dark satisfaction as she takes in your expression, "so there's three in here." There's a strong, sudden little ripple of motion somewhere beneath your fingers. "Getting pretty big, huh?" she asks after a brief pause, letting a little fragile pride sneak into her otherwise tough and self-assured voice. Her eyes stray downward for an instant - she's not just talking to you any more.

It takes a second for you to muster your thoughts for an answer, which is all Tempest needs to put her serious face back on and stand back up, out of your reach. She lifts her arms above her head and stretches luxuriantly, all confidence and sass, and now you know she's teasing you. Your pants tighten; that amount of underboob doesn't appear by accident. You cross your legs as she carries on limbering up, watching you squirm with the tiniest of smirks.

"Well, can't slack off on my routine," Tempest says, looping the damp towel back around her neck with a wet slap. "Twi gets antsy if I'm out of her sight for too long. Later, stranger." She gives you a knowing little wink, and with that she takes off jogging again, quickly building up to a respectable pace and looping back around towards the My Little Eyesore Crystal Castle Playset in the distance without looking back.

Great - now you're the one sweating buckets. You're curled halfway into a ball trying your damnedest not to get arrested for public indecency. Meanwhile, Tempest's probably off to have crazy magical lesbian pregnant sex with the princess. All toned and sweaty and brash while she- BONER NO

Feline Fine

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Those that dwell within the desert of Southern Equestria know well the tale of Somnambula, whose hope and bravery overcame the terrifying sphinx that preyed upon the town which now bears her name. But what of the sphinx herself? Why did she terrorise innocents into surrendering their food? And what other heroes arose to end her rampage at last? Without the hope of Somnambula, what could possibly stop such a beast? One such tale concerns her encounter with a unicorn tribe, hidden from the world at the desert's inhospitable heart...

The village of Rabast was located at the very center of the desert. Bathed in withering heat during the day and lashed by fierce wind at night, it only survived thanks to the great power and dedication of its unicorn magi. Disciplined and austere, this remote enclave produced some of the greatest wizards Equestria had ever known. Their power was borne not out of chance or through accumulation of knowledge (though only a fool would consider the Rabasti ignorant) but through the rigors of desert survival. Its people were simple, with limited wealth and no allies - but not, under any circumstances, to be underestimated. For their greatest mages had such telekinetic power that they could divert sandstorms and flatten the dunes through sheer force of will, or so the tales say.

This place, with its squat sandstone buildings and quiet residents, was the latest that the sphinx set her sights upon. With the wings and proportions of a pegasus and the paws and features of a great cat, the sphinx was the mightiest creature in all of Equestria. She strode from the desert haze like a mirage made flesh, tall as a tower and implacable as a mountain, and cast an imposing shadow over the little village. As the unicorns scurried for their homes, she flashed a mouthful of teeth that could bite a wagon clean in half and demanded to speak to their leader. As the elder unicorn stepped forth into the square, a figure well past his prime and dressed only in a tattered peasant robe, she couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Pickings would be slim here, but surely these poor ponies would offer no resistance. She almost felt sorry for them.

The tiny unicorn introduced himself and quickly asked what the sphinx wanted from his village. With malicious glee, she explained a devilishly simple arrangement: the unicorns would give her half of all the food from their harvest, and in turn she would not burn their town to cinders with her magic or simply crush it beneath her feet. The elder unicorn, in the face of such a threat, fell into a thoughtful silence. Then, in a placating tone, he spoke:

"I see. You wish to feed your kittens."

The sphinx snarled derisively, raising a paw as if to swat the impudent little pony like a gnat. He had ignored her offer and demonstrated a clear talent for stating the obvious. Her expectancy was clear to see; an entire litter of appropriately massive kittens crowded inside her middle, compromising her otherwise perfectly feline agility with a great round mass of tummy. She was pregnant. Gravid. Stuffed. Wide as a street. If she wished, she could level the unicorn's village by simply lying in the center and taking a dust bath. Why else would she have walked to the town instead of simply flying? For almost a year she had been hoarding all the food she could in her lair, in preparation for the fateful day of birth that was drawing ever closer. Far too impatient for small talk, the sphinx bared her fangs and repeated her threat to the little unicorn.

The elderly pony shook his head and spread his hooves wide apologetically. "My apologies, great sphinx, but we have nothing to spare. If we were to share our harvest we would surely starve." He looked up, eyes surprisingly bright and cunning for someone of so little wealth and such advanced age. "But we are not without means - perhaps we can appease you some other way?"

The sphinx laughed out loud. How could such a meager collection of hovels and peasants possibly satisfy her? They had nothing of value; no gold, no great libraries, no works of art, no temples; not even a prince to kidnap and hold for ransom in overly complicated riddle games.

The unicorn merely smiled, sat, and lit his horn. A cloud of telekinetic energy pouring forth, forming a vague shapes that slowly coalesced into something recognisable: a giant, open hand. A massive semitransparent construct of pure mana, no smaller than her own paw, hovered shimmering in the air. Passive, palm-up, nonthreatening. The sphinx cocked her head, confused. What was this doddering old pony trying to achieve? If he so much as tried to attack her-

She didn't notice the second hand until it fell between her shoulderblades and began to scritch playfully. A roar of shock collapsed in her throat, and what escaped was barely a startled mewl. It felt good; very good. Too good. It was obviously a trick. A distraction. She opened her mouth to tell the pony to stop; to cease his stalling and give her what she wanted, and it was at that moment that the first hand rose to gently rub her chin.

"You have travelled far," the old pony said, eyes closed in concentration. "I am certain see that your journey has been hard. Please, allow me to offer you some comfort instead."

The sphinx fell silent in sudden bewilderment. She'd come for food! To be powerful and intimidating and take what she wanted by force! Now all of a sudden this little pony, barely a match for even one of her claws in size, was using his conjurings to pet her like a common housecat! She flushed with embrassment. Began to quiver with rage. So patronising! So impudent! She could crush him in an instant!

The hand between her shoulderblades lay flat and stroked, firmly but gently, all the way down her back, which arched on reflex. Her tail raised. Her wings twitched. That sneaky first set of fingers kept on teasing beneath her chin.

The sphinx began to purr.

"Please, rest. You bear a great burden. Allow me to ease your aches a little," intoned the unicorn, still directing those maddeningly distracting hands to stroke and scratch. A third hand appeared now, pushing down on the sphinx's hindquarters, and she offered no resistance.

With a happy little noise, she eased her way down into a sitting position, then began to lazily tip over onto one side. She stretched out a foreleg, unsheathing her claws so that the two middle ones neatly boxed the unicorn in where he sat. She complimented him on his cleverness, but swore that this was merely a distraction. She would indulge him, purely out of humor of course, and allow him to work his magic. At the first sign of foul play, she would destroy him. And after he was done, she would take what she had demanded as rightfully hers.

The unicorn merely nodded. A fourth hand appeared from the air and gently took hold of the sphinx's wing. With utmost care it began to massage and preen, running her primary feathers carefully between thumb and forefinger. With a sigh like a collapsing sandbank, the sphinx's massive body settled atop a dune. Now that she lay on her side, the sheer enormity of her laden womb became quite apparent; what constituted a healthy litter for her utterly dwarfed the pony and his village; a small mountain of creamy underbelly - insofar as any part of the sphinx could be considered small - punctuated neatly by two rows of teats too engorged for her fur to hide.

In truth the sphinx initially felt uncomfortable about being put into such a compromising position, but on a moment's reflection she realised that she really had been long overdue a little pampering. The mostly-solitary lifestyle of her race had left her without much experience of physical affection - she recieved another stroke down the spine and shivered blissfully - and now that she was recieving it in spades it seemed overwhelming. Perhaps she would have pursued her mate a little more had he been this attentive. This treatment was, after all, only what a creature such as she deserved. All of a sudden she simply didn't care that she was supposed to be a fearsome monster come to pillage and steal from these hapless ponies.

And then the hands shifted in their affections and the sphinx mewled aloud in pleasure, all thoughts of conquest swept from her mind. One pair settled into gently massaging her wingbases and shoulderblades, the cool, slightly tingly fingers digging deep into tense, tight muscles. The other pair laid palms on the sides of her belly - her stretched, tight, heavy belly - and began to rub it in firm, slow motions. It was all she could do to control herself and not roll completely onto her back, all but begging for more. Her back legs paddled the sand, sending up clouds of dust for the wind to carry away.

The old unicorn remained still and silent as he worked his magic, a small smile gracing his lips. The sort of smile that says 'I can't believe this is working'. Perhaps it should have been no surprise that a giant cat could be pacified by strokes and scritches? For her part, the sphinx simply growled her approval in between fitful, throaty purrs. And for theirs, the magic hands dragged smoothly across her gravid body like lavicious dancers eager to please.

The unicorn, much of his concentration still focused on maintaining the spell, gingerly extricated himself from the sphinx's paw and approached her massive head. Her eyes were half-closed, mouth lolling open slightly, looking for all the world like a pampered pet blown up to titanic size. He bowed his head respectfully. "You seem pleased, great sphinx. Is this not a fair payment for you to leave our town in peace?"

The sphinx considered this. Certainly she had been entertained, well in excess of her expectations. This tiny unicorn and his magic made her feel good - very good indeed. A wicked smile crossed her lips. She told the pony that, in all her graciousness, she was willing to alter the terms of their arrangement. She would leave the village alone, but at one cost: he would be coming with her. This magic, his deliciously exciting magic, should be hers and hers alone to indulge in as she pleased. The unicorn protested, but the only answer he recieved was a low snarl and bared teeth. It was, most likely, the best he was going to get. The sphinx merely wanted more. And that he could quite happily provide until another solution could be found.

The psionic hands began to tickle and gently probe at her sensitive spots, the sphinx arching her back as far as it could go with a crack like splitting wood, stretching out her legs and twitching her tail at the pleasure of it. One settled on her head and scritched behind her ear, and the purring that followed had all the depth and volume of a raging bonfire. She rolled onto her back, presenting the full magnitude of her tummy, which had begun to stir with the motion of the wagon-sized kittens within. She needed that belly stroked and she needed it immediately, and mrowled out loud as a warm, slightly tingly palm granted her wish, running right down the middle.

"More?"

The sphinx nodded - and then her eyes flew wide in shock. Two of the hands had taken hold of her teats between thumb and forefinger, rubbing and squeezing that plump, sensitive flesh with the utmost of delicacy. She lay back all but moaning with delight, a fierce, delicious heat blossoming at the back of her mind and between her hindlegs. What a find this was - this little unicorn and his incredible magic! She stared at him with her head upside down, eyes wide and pleading; he had convinced her. She would leave his village alone - if only he would...

Fingers kneaded the sphinx's inner thighs. More began to massage her aching paws. Yet another hand lifted the headdress from her scalp and rubbed between her ears, which folded down submissively as she groaned her approval. Minutes melted away - back arched and wings splayed, paws waving lazily in the air, she surrendered himself to the soothing yet exciting touch of the magic, swiftly losing herself as the desire to be preened, stroked and massaged for as long as she could endure washed away complex thought. The little unicorn worshipped her, she thought - as was the right and proper interaction between ponies and anything remotely feline.

A wayward touch brushed across her slit, the hands growing more adventurous, more carnal, as their conjurer went for the proverbial throat. They kneaded her sensitive teats all in turn, two at a time, until they started trickling little rivers down the curves of her tummy, milk painting the desert sand. The sphinx writhed in ecstacy, fearsome no longer save for the possibility that her happy thrashing might crush something, and as a pair of fingers slid deep between her legs and into her hungry depths the sphinx howled her gratification so loudly that ears perked in towns miles distant. With tears in her eyes and hot fluids seeping from her furry mound, her massive body quaked with pleasure.

Before long, she was panting and damp and rank with her own fluids, riding an orgasm that felt long, long overdue. But the unicorn did not stop - with all of the power and endurance at his disposal, he pleasured and pampered the sphinx well into the evening. Again and again she soaked the sands and feebly mewled for more, so overcome by greed and lust that by the time the sun dipped beneath the temporary horizon of her belly, she was a semi-conscious mess barely capable of coherent speech, satisfied and sore. In the end her massive eyes closed and she fell into a deep and contented slumber, just as the unicorn chieftain's magic finally gave out and he too collapsed in a weary heap.

No two ponies tell the end of the story the same way. The truth, perhaps, is lost to history. Some say the unicorns took advantage of the sphinx's exhaustion and teleported her far, far away, never to be seen again. Others say that upon waking she had gone so long without food that she gave the village no further thought and instead hurried back to her lair to gorge herself and satisfy her hungry litter. Yet others say that she showed the ponies respect and left them in peace of her own accord, only to return later in order to politely request another petting session, and indeed pay for it. Humbled, perhaps, by the show of power and restraint.

And then there are yet taller tales. Some believe that she took the unicorn chieftain as her new mate - that a hidden temple deep within the desert, when the stars are aligned or the offerings are suitable - possesses the power to turn a pony into a sphinx. With him, transformed and renewed, she bore many more litters, and together they turned the town of Rabast into a vast haven of peace and plenty still hidden deep within the desert. One legend says that sufficient knowledge and dedication might lead a pony to the golden city of Rabast, where sphinxes and unicorns still live in harmony, cradled in the eye of an eternal sandstorm.

But that, perhaps, is a story for another time.

Bump in the Night

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You are Anon, and you've just been woken up by loud noises coming from your kitchen at one in the morning. Normally this would be cause for alarm - time to call the police and grab the nearest heavy object - but as of late it's become pretty normal. Still, if you don't intervene there probably won't be anything left to eat in the morning, so you yawn, roll out of bed and put your slippers on to head downstairs. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, the sounds of banging drawers and furtive munching continue unhindered.

This all started when you agreed to help with the ETDLP (Equestrian Trans-Dimensional Lodging Project) a few months back. Apparently Princess Twilight's School of Friendship suffered from some kind of magic and/or friendship related accident which blew up the entire boarding house. The students have had to stay elsewhere until it's fixed - which, among other places, means your house. With access through a portal conveniently located in your living room. When you asked Twilight why she decided to send her students through portals to other worlds in order to sleep and do homework instead of giving them rooms in her castle or renting a place in Ponyville, she simply shrugged and made excuses. Something about 'cultural enrichment'. But the student you got lodging with you was pretty cute, so you didn't complain.

Of course, that was before you realised what a handful she would be.

Your kitchen's a mess, to put things lightly. The lights are on, revealing that every single drawer and cupboard that could be opened is open, along with the fridge and freezer. Every surface (and part of the floor) is covered with half-empty packets and boxes of food, from cornflakes to cream to curry. And sitting right there in the middle of the carpet is the cuprit, caught red-clawed with her face in a bag of cheesy crisps and seated in front of a midnight feast scavenged from all over the room.

Silverstream looks up, wide-eyed and blushing profusely at being caught even as she continues crunching her way through the improputu feedbag, you simply sigh patiently and lean against the doorframe. This, as of the last few days, has become entirely normal, and it's not hard to see why. Your new hippogriff roomie is pregnant. Very pregnant. Twilight left that little detail out of your initial agreement, so this fact would also be cause for concern, but conveniently it also turns out that Twilight's school is actually more of a fancy private college for students of all ages, including adults. You don't need to worry about Chris Hansen or his little horsey equivalent breaking down your door.

You say nothing, but Silverstream makes a point of looking guilty even as she licks every last crumb out of the bag of cheesy snacks. Cravings have been hitting her hard, and that's no surprise - turns out that hippogriffs get big. She's already notably taller than a pony, a lanky creature standing just over five feet tall, but as she excitedly informed you on the day she first showed up, it's entirely normal for hippogriffs to concieve litters of between two and four.

So it's all the more notable that she's carrying six. Now that she's in the final stretch, that belly's gone from steadily rounding out to widening at an impressive speed. And it's hungry.

Silverstream eyes you for a moment, so you eye her right back. Sat on her haunches, the space between her hooved back legs is filled by a fluffy round belly the size of a well-inflated gym ball. Her little clawed hands or paws or whatever they are wring together nervously just above, and the aggressively cutesy pinkness of her soft, feather-tufted body is offset by a large mohawk-esque blue mane that reminds you of minty toothpaste. Even having single-handedly ravaged your kitchen to feed her growing brood, she's straight up adorable. You can't even be mad.

"Hi Anon," she says at last, finding her words and her feet with a careful heave of her weight, "Sorry Anon."

You shrug, starting to pack whatever you can back into the fridge before it starts getting too warm. A moment later, you're aware of a fuzzy pink cheek brushing against your shoulder. "I saved you some crackers," Silverstream says placatingly, holding out a half-eaten box of saltines. "I know it's a mess and I'm not supposed to eat so much, but I just woke up and had to eat something, so I just crept down for a snack and then thought maybe cornflakes would go well with-" She pauses as you smile and gently pat her shoulder, stooping to her eye level. "You're not mad?"

You shake your head. The poor girl's got needs, and you don't have the heart to scold her. You let her know that it's fine for her to have midnight snacks, just so long as she's quiet and cleans up after herself. Silverstream perks up at that, face warming as she trots in place. You suggest that she take what she wants and head back to bed while you clean up; you'll start setting things aside for her in case of midnight cravings from now on.

"Okay, Anon! Thanks Anon!" She beams with happiness, all her shame gone in an instant, and gathers up an armful of items seemingly at random. It takes an awkward three-legged waddle for her to maneuver herself out into the hall with that prize, and you can only imagine the sight you're missing as you hear the stairs start to creak under her weight.

It takes a good quarter of an hour to clean up the mess, but it doesn't look like anything's spoilt or damaged, so you just chalk the whole ordeal up as yet another wacky cartoon horse(bird) misadventure and make your way back to bed. You haven't heard a peep since Silverstream headed back upstairs, so you assume that she simply headed back to her own room and gorged herself to sleep. You return to your room with a stretch and a yawn, and prepare to turn in for the night.

Except your assumption was wrong. Silverstream didn't go to her room - she went to yours. And now she's sat right in the center of your bed, staring at you with puppy dog eyes. "Hi again Anon. I was feeling a little lonely so I was thinking maybe I could sleep with you tonight?" She twirls part of her mane with a claw, grinning nervously with a little flutter of her wings. "I promise not to snore, or talk in my sleep, or get up in the middle of the night to eat everything in your kitchen..."

Well, why not? What's the worst that could happen? You nod and climb into the bed alongside her - though it's a bit of a challenge. Your rotund roomie takes up a lot of space, and up close it's all the more obvious just how much of that space is reserved purely for her crowded womb. She stays on top of the covers - all that fluff means she's perfectly comfortable without it and just needs something soft to lie on, and she's radiantly warm in her own right. Even so, that doesn't stop her from snuggling up against your body immediately after settling, clutching at you with those little clawed fingers. Covered as she is in insulating down feathers, it's like lying with a person-sized teddybear that wants to hug you. Or rather, will hug you whether you want it or not - Silverstream's that kind of girl, even shen she's not riding a tide of maternal hormones.

And apparently those hormones aren't done with her, as evidenced by a loud rumble from somewhere deep in that swollen belly. She squirms in place and looks past you, tenderly patting her midsection, and you notice that her little stash of food is all over your bedside table and out of her reach.

"Um, Anon...?"

You know precisely what she wants. Carefully, you lean over and fetch the first thing in reach. It's a box of frosted doughnuts - a week's supply of sugar in a few colourful bite-sized mouthfuls. Appropriate enough, really. You open the box and the hippogriff stares hungrily, wrapping her trembling forelegs around your body to keep herself from simply snatching the box and upending it into her beak. With only a brief teasing delay, you take one of the doughnuts and hold it out for her.

It's gone in two chomps - she even licks your hand. Even tired, hungry and pregnant as can be, everything she does is still full of energy and enthusiasm. And that bright, wide-eyed look of hope that she gives you in the light of your bedside lamp is all the indication you need that she wants more. As she wolfs down the second doughnut and then the third, your spare hand drifts to that gravid belly and you wonder just how she manages to have the space to eat so much. It's firm under the fluff, which grows increasingly thin closer to her navel, and every so often flutters gently with internal movement. This only encourages her to hold you even closer, with little squeaked noises of approval and pleasure at all the attention she's getting. She strokes your hair and even rocks you a little. You're not sure if you're looking after her or if she's mothering you. Perhaps it's a bit of both.

Almost an hour passes. An hour of wordless cuddling, punctuated by occasional bouts of you feeding the voracious pit of Silverstream's beak, before she finally settles down to sleep. Her large, soft body rests heavily against you, some of that great big foal-filled tummy's weight resting on your own stomach. Her hands clutch you tightly, burying your head in the crook of her neck just above that tufted chest. Every so often her hooves or wings twitch as she dreams, and she murmurs happily under her breath - but doesn't snore or sleeptalk, as promised.

You smile contentedly, holding her gently in return so as not to risk waking her up, and feel yourself start to drop off as well. It's almost impossibly comfortable like this, and sleep creeps up on you quickly. Before your eyes slip closed and you drift off, cuddled up close against your fecund feathered friend, your last thought is that all this was definitely worth a plundered kitchen...

Novo Problemo

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Queen Novo, for all her dedication to the rulership and safety of her people, had always been a mare of leisure at heart. She'd had her creature comforts down in Seaquestria for sure, but seaweed wraps and literal bubble baths had always struck her as pale imitations of the luxury on offer outside of the water. During her time hidden beneath the waves, she'd often longed for a good talonicure, or the decadence of lounging in a mountaintop hot spring. The ocean may have had geothermal vents here and there as well, but they had proven much less comfortable and many, many times less safe to sit in.

The defeat of the Storm King, among all the myriad benefits for the hippogriffs as a people, had also returned one of her dearest, yet simplest ways of passing time - evening naps on the beach. And with two forms available to her, she'd experimented and discovered something very pleasurable indeed: naps on the beach, but as a seapony. A different form made for an entirely different experience; without fur or feathers in the way, she could feel the sun's warmth directly on her thick, sleek aquatic skin. Warm, wet sand conformed neatly around her body, and the waves kept her cool and moist.

A little practice showed that she could simply take a half-hour doze on the tideline, wake up feeling warm and refreshed, then slip back into the ocean or transform back to hippogriff and carry on with her day. Soon enough she found a shaded little bay on the far side of Mount Aris where she would not be disturbed. After a while, confident that Aris was once again secure, she even stopped bringing her guards along so that she could have it all to herself.

Thus, the beach had become a welcome retreat from the stresses of everyday rulership. Occasional pleasure quickly turned into a bi-weekly habit that carried on even after she claimed a new consort, and - in a manner of speaking - he claimed her. Hard, repeatedly, and very effectively. Her body swelling month by month with new siblings for Skystar, Novo appreciated her moments of quiet relaxation more than ever. Flying was off the table; even swimming was starting to tire her out much more quickly than usual.

And so, one day, the gravid and half-exhausted Queen Novo swam up from Seaquestria, settled down on her favorite beach for a nap...

And overslept.

----

Novo's eyes reluctantly drifted halfway open. The world was tilted ninety degrees on account of her laying on one side. Her fins itched, and she squirmed in place in a little fit of annoyance that something so minor could disrupt her nap. The sand around her barely budged; it felt thick and oddly dry. That, she realised even half-submerged in sleep, was odd. A moment later, she caught on to the fact that sleep had become the only thing she was half-submerged in. Now fully and alarmedly awake, she raised her head and looked around. The sun was halfway below the horizon and dipping fast - and the tide had receded. Entire meters of open beach, glistening in the dusky light, lay between her and the water.

Novo huffed in mild irritation; her half hour nap had stretched into a full six hour day-sleep. She'd missed dinner, and her foals hammered this fact home with a fit of squirming. They transformed with her, and even as seaponies, with two legs instead of four, they could really kick when they wanted something. She put a fin-tipped hoof to her throat, to touch the pearl fragment necklace that would return her to hippogriff form.

It wasn't there.

With a moment of alarm followed by one of equally stunning clarity, Novo realised that she'd left the thing on her nightstand back in Seaquestria's palace. The hoof quickly migrated from her neck to her forehead, with a grumble of deep frustration.

"Aww haddocks," she muttered to nobody in particular. A flurry of kicks from inside her womb was the only response forthcoming, but somehow even her unborn foals managed to feel annoyed this time. She turned her head, this time addressing the great, gently undulating mass of her lower midsection. "Ohhh no, I'm not takin' the blame for this one. You're the ones makin' Mama sleepy; turnin' her into a manatee." Novo winced slightly; unwilling to shoulder responsibility, her demanding little passengers just kept on writhing.

Indeed, a weight-conscious manatee might have felt insulted by the comparison. With her seapony form's flexible spine and no hind legs or other pesky skeletal structures to get in the way, the big pregnancy ballooned her womb - and with it her entire body between the base of her ribs and the base of her tail - in every concievable direction. The past few months had seen her slender form more than triple in width, with the promise of further growth still to come.

This was less of a hinderance underwater or with four long legs to support it, weight aside, but here on the beach the entire mass of it - of her - was pinned by gravity. Novo had a fleeting suspicion that the rounded wall of tummy looming over her, pushed up by its position against the sand and visibly trembling thanks to the hungry, indignant movement inside, might have gotten bigger in the few hours she'd spent napping.

All of a sudden, the ten or so meters from her ill-chosen relaxation spot to the water's edge started to look like ten or so miles. For the first time in a long time, the haughty queen of Mount Aris got the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that she'd made an embarassing mistake.

No doubt the guards would be out looking for her soon if they weren't already, but Novo's pride rebelled at the idea of needing to be rescued. The thought of her soldiers coming across her like this - beached and helpless like a bulbous sea cow - offended every fiber of her being. Even worse was the thought of having to wait for someone to come drag her back to the water; her belly trembled and rumbled with insistent hunger passed on by her needy babies. Scrunching her muzzle at the unpleasant sensory paradox of feeling both empty and full at the same time, Novo set her eyes on the water. This was a problem that she'd need to solve herself.

Step one would be rolling herself upright. Still stiff from her overlong sleep, it took a couple of seconds for her forehooves to find purchase on the moist, almost putty-like surface of the gradually drying beach. With a little huff of exertion, Novo attempted to lever herself onto her front. She made it about halfway, then slipped and found herself rolling - quite literally - back onto her side. A fierce blush and some angry tail-thrashing ensued before she tried again; this time with a little more success as she put the muscles of her long delphine body to work.

A few heaving pushes later and her belly, crusted all along one side with sand it had picked up from the beach, settled weightily into its new position with the slow grace one might expect from a sack full of wet cement. Still forced upwards, the turgid mass that was her midsection now spread out slowly, widely, to either side, its weight expanding the little crater she'd already made in the beach. Viewed from above, her body assumed a broad teardrop shape. Pressed into the ground by the weight bearing down on it, her pudgy navel started to fiercely itch.

Even so, she was the right way up now, and that counted as a success in her mind. All that remained was to drag herself back to the water. That, though, was always going to be the hard part. Novo took a deep breath as her foals, unhappy at being jostled about, started up another round of 'try to start a whirlpool inside mum'.

"You settle down now," she muttered, "or you'll be comin' out of there a month early." The furious squirming, to her great relief, gradually died down. Novo quickly suppressed the thought that the workout she was about to get might make good on that threat whether she'd meant it or not.

She pointed her nose straight at the water, dug her forehooves deep into the sand, and pulled with all the strength in her streamlined seapony shoulders. Even gritted teeth and beads of sweat availed her nothing, however; she didn't budge an inch. Instead, she simply wound up with two entirely unhelpful hooffuls of sand. Without the water to support her or something solid to hold onto, she'd long since grown too heavy for her forelegs alone to drag along.

For a moment, the graceful and glorious queen of the hippogriffs feared that her self-respect might be wounded forever. The only muscles she had that were strong enough to propel her were the ones she used to swim, which meant wiggling her way down the beach like an obese seal. But now the sun was well and truly starting to disappear, and with it the last of the evening's light. For a moment, she pondered simply laying there until the guards found her and swearing them to secrecy on the spot. She was the queen after all. She could do that. She could handle the cold, too; a fair amount of the mass on her was simply blubber, to better insulate against the ocean depths. She could handle hundreds of meters of water, so a chilly evening was nothing.

As if reading her mind and none too pleased by what it had found there, one of the foals' tiny hooves kicked her square in the ribs. And that was the final straw. A fresh resolve lit up in Novo's mind - she was going to get into the water, swim back to the palace, head straight to the kitchen and gorge her rambunctious offspring - and herself, if it came to that - into the mother of all food comas. Anything to stop them from using her insides as a gymnasium. Skystar had been just as much of a nuisance sometimes, but there'd only been one of her.

Grumbling but determined, she bunched the muscles in her back, flanks and tail, then pushed with all her might like a coiled spring. For a second, her perspective shifted awkwardly upwards as her rotund body finally lurched forward, and her forelegs found new utility in keeping her from planting her face in the beach. But - success! The ocean was now a few inches closer. Repeating the motion after a short breather brought similar results, so she kept it up, irregardless of the broad, inch-deep trench that her gravid bulk was carving into the sand. Her thick, rubbery hide itched at every point of contact, but Novo's pride had always accompanied an equal amount of stubbornness, and she wilfully ignored it.

Ten minutes of laborious dragging later, the first wave lapped at the beached seapony's forehooves. She paused with a wince; the foals had decided to do a little victory dance. Still, she allowed herself a triumphant smile at last. Even exhausted and covered in sand, her problem was solved - and nobody would ever know she'd made such a flouder of herself. Five minutes to catch her breath wouldn't hurt.

-----

Above the beach, in the bushes, two hippogriff guards lay prone and watched the ordeal unfold. They'd stumbled upon the scene below shortly after Novo woke up, but hadn't dared to risk the queen's attention. Both of them were still fighting to keep from laughing.

The stallion spoke up first, barely above a whisper, stealing a furtive glance at his female companion. "So should we help her, or...?"

"Nah, she's almost there," the mare said, hands over her beak to suppress her giggles as Queen Novo finally began to wiggle her tremendously pregnant mass into the ocean.

"But she's the queen."

"Yeah, and you know what she's like. She'll have our tails if this gets out."

"I guess."

"Besides," she purred, "it's actually kinda hot. And the beach'll be free in a minute." She grinned widely, fluttering her eyelashes at him and tapping her necklace with a playful talon. The expression that came over her face heated his blood in an instant. It was an expression that betrayed some very, very naughty ideas...

The DAWW

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Despite a few early hiccups that terrified rural communities and ruined the careers of astronomers all across the land, a decade or two of practice had finally allowed Princess Twilight to master raising and lowering the sun. A beautiful spring morning was dawning over the School of Friendship. The sweet scent of budding flowers joined the joyful song of nesting birds, drifting through the open windows as creatures big and small prepared for their first classes of the week.

The Professor of Advanced Laughter Studies had yet to arrive at her classroom, and her students were abuzz with gossip in her absence. Notes were passed, shrewd whispers were met with giggles of nervousness and scandal, and the more rambunctious members of the class huddled in one corner of the room to make bets. They couldn't help it; ever since Professor Pinkie had stepped down the previous autumn, her successor had been the talk of the school. And that talk had only intensified as time passed.

"Ssssh! Sssssssh! She's here!" gasped a young changeling stationed by the half-open door, quickly drawing her head back from where she'd been peeking out into the corridor. Everyone hurried to their seats, hushing their conversations and hastily tucking away gossip notes and dubiously legitimate contracts. For a few seconds, the class fell almost completely silent. They had a little time to spare, but nobody wanted to take responsibility for hurting their professor's feelings.

"Wonder if she's grown over the weekend," muttered a little dragon.

"Duh," replied the griffon in the next seat along. "Two bits say she doesn't even fit in here any more."

The changeling scrambled into her own seat, clutching a cluster of books. "I can't believe she hasn't taken leave yet..."

The door began to open, and the last of the students quickly hushed themselves. A bright, cheerful voice rang out from the doorway as their professor let herself inside. "Good morning, everycreature!"

"Good morning Professor Silverstream," they replied in unison, doing their level best not to stare too obviously as their teacher made her way up to the front of the room.

Professor Silverstream had always stood out. As the only hippogriff on the School of Friendship's faculty, her lanky frame put her shoulders about level with the top of the other staff members' heads. Her large blue-white striped mohawk even scraped the top of the doorway as she entered. Rumors abound that she was connected by blood to Mount Aris' royalty, making her taller than average even by the standards of her species. She clothed herself conservatively, much like Headmare Starlight, with a simple shirt and waistcoat fastened around her torso and a skirt whose hem would typically hang to her knees.

But what really drew the eyes and attention of the class - indeed the entire school - as if it had a gravitational pull of its own, was her midsection. That Professor Silverstream was pregnant was no surprise to anyone; she made no secret of her intensely loving relationship with Guard-Captain Gallus. The pair of them had married shortly before she took the job at the school. No, what never failed to attract attention was the scale of that pregnancy.

The latest of many satirical rumors stated that 'Professor of Applied Laughter Studies' wasn't a job that suited her, and that the headmare was considering her for 'Dean of Advanced Wideness and Waddling' instead.

With a smile that wouldn't have been out of place on the muzzle of Pinkie Pie herself, Silverstream made her ponderous way to the front of the class. Her hands and hooves sank into the carpet as she went, leaving small craters that took a few seconds to snap back to their usual fluffiness. "I hope everycreature had a great weekend!" she declared happily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that every eye in the room was fixed upon her, wide and unblinking.

Some months ago, Professor Silverstream had eagerly burst into the classroom to announce to everyone that she was expecting a foal. This, as it turned out, had been a gross understatement. Now, two semesters later, her barrel bulged outwards dramatically from beneath her dress, rounded out and loaded down with what could only be many foals. Here and there, soft pink fluff gave way to fleeting glimpses of rosy, tender-looking skin. Her slender limbs and limitless enthusiasm seemed to keep her mobile all on their own. Such a massively burdened womb would have floored a pony weeks ago, even without the bulbous, tan-skinned fleshy masses that lurked between her hind legs, in the deep shadow that remained of her dress' coverage.

Nobody knew exactly how many baby hippogriffs (hippogriffons? Another hot question.) Professor Silverstream was expecting, or when she'd finally bite the proverbial bullet and take maternity leave. Hence the gossip and betting that always seemed to swirl in her wake. And with an ease that seemed almost trivial, she'd shattered expectations again and again. Each week for a while now, at least one member of her class had sworn that they'd not be seeing Professor Silverstream again for the rest of the year. And each week, she'd returned to the classroom more egregiously gravid than ever, all but oblivious to the spectacle she was becoming.

Radiating good cheer and social sunshine, Silverstream gave the students a brisk wave. Then she carried her heavy body to her desk with all the grace and poise of a rhinocerous. She eased herself down to the floor, resting one hand on a small stack of paperwork while the other drifted to her own middle. The desk was only pony-height, giving the students in the front row a clear view of how the lower buttons of Silverstream's shirt strained desperately just below the point where her ribs met her abdomen. Between the buttons, pink coat and pinker flesh visibly yearned for just a little more freedom. With gravity spreading her weight across the ground, the side of her belly even peeked out from behind one corner of the desk itself.

"I hope everycreature had a great weekend," she started brightly. "This week's topic is one of my favorites - Professor Pinkie's 'Ghosties, Giggling and Great Adventures'." There was a pause as she surveyed the assembled students, most of them suddenly looking in all directions other than directly at her. "So if somecreature could please collect up the weekend's assignments and bring them up to the front so we can get started, that'd be great!"

There was a small hustle of activity as hooves and claws fumbled with bags and rucksacks. A teenage kirin approached the front desk with a small pile of assignment papers balanced on his back. Little beads of sweat emerged from his forehead as he became the focus of the professor's patient yet intensely wide-eyed expression. He couldn't help but feel nervous this close to her, at once intrigued and shocked by her apparent defiance of the laws of physics and biology. He gulped and bowed his head to deposit the assignments on the desk, swearing silently to himself that he just saw the surface of his teacher's tremendous barrel twitch all on its own.

"Thank you Emberleaf," Silverstream said with the tiniest of nods, "I can't wait to see what you all came up with for last week's- oh." She paused. Sandwiched between two of the assignment papers was a small, torn-edged piece of notepad paper. Part of the students' gossip from earlier had inadvertently found its way into the stack of assignments. Silverstream plucked it out between two claws and eased herself into a more upright sitting position, using her wings for added leverage. Emberleaf took a step back, sweat truly starting to flow down his brow.

"Professor Silverstream for Dean of Advanced Wideness and Waddling. Pass it on."

A ripple of awkward giggling and strained smiles passed across the classroom. Silverstream's own cheery grin slowly fell into a more level, almost disinterested expression as she read the note aloud. One that was maintained as she slowly tilted the note away from herself and back towards the class. Her spare hand slowly drifted refexively back and forth across the surface of her belly, as if to reassure the numerous little hippogriffs inside.

"Who's responsible for this?"

An anxious quiet - a silence almost as pregnant as Silverstream herself - fell over the classroom. Everyone knew that Professor Silverstream lowering her voice anywhere below 'happy' meant bad news. Emberleaf tapped his hooves together anxiously, trying his best not to let himself be trapped in that suddenly piercing violet gaze. Several awkward seconds passed as the professor looked slowly around the room, meeting every face with an expression of solemn, judgmental neutrality.

Eventually, slowly and haltingly, a young griffon raised her hand. "I-I did, Professor. I'm sorry..."

Silverstream leaned back, sliding the little note into her breast pocket, and rested her hands palms-down on the desk with a little sigh. "Thank you for being honest, Gabrielle." Then, suddenly, so quickly it might as well have been conjured back into existence by Headmare Starlight herself, Silverstream's wide, gleeful grin returned with a vengeance. A moment later she burst out laughing, loud and genuine. She thrust her head towards the surprised young griffon, as full of smiles as anyone had ever seen her.

"Do I really waddle? Come oooon, I don't waddle! Or do I? Does walking really slowly 'cause my legs bump against my bump if I go to fast count as waddling?" Not sure how to react, Gabrielle shrank back into her chair a little. Silverstream snorted, giggled aloud and carried on. "Wideness and Waddling! That's great! Oh my gosh, I have to show this to Headmare Starlight! It's hi-lar-ious!"

To the students' collective surprise, Silverstream started getting up. This, given her size and mass, was no small feat. With a little heaving on her part and support from the desk (which registered its protest with an almighty creak), she managed to get her hooves under her own rotund weight and head for the door at the fastest pace she could manage. Which was, of course, no faster than an enthusiastic waddle.

Halfway out of the door, Silverstream stopped herself so suddenly that she may as well have walked into a wall. The giggling stopped. "Wait! I'm supposed to be teaching right now!" The heavily-loaded hippogriff tried to turn around on the spot, found her body far too wide to do so, then carefully corrected herself and backed up back into the classroom hooves-first. Then came the turnaround, a slow process of one hoof or hand moving at a time while the others bore her weight. Then, finally, she crossed the floor again and flumped back down behind her desk with an audible thud that rocked the floorboards.

The students, including Emberleaf and Gabrielle, each frozen in place by sheer confusion, could only stare in disbelief at the sight. Silverstream, not perturbed in the slightest, took a few seconds to get comfortable again with a little sigh. Once again, her hand strayed to her overencumbered middle. All the activity had the little ones waking up and starting to squirm. The thought - and feeling - of being so tangibly full of life brought a warm smile to her beak that was likely to stay there for most of the afternoon.

"Aaaaaanyway, gold star for Gabrielle. Where were we again?"

A Treasury of Tightly Timed Tummy Tales

by Wigglejigglesquiggle

Behemoth Baby-factory Batpony Botheration

Marble Pie a la Cart

Onerous Ovi Overload

Milky Way's Clammy Day

Fire on the Mountain

Sunlit Sea

Mutant Mare Matinee

Swollen Sunbutt's Space-filling Shenanigans

Polishing the Pear

Double Grounded

Ground Zero

Tempest's Teasing Timeout

Feline Fine

Bump in the Night

Novo Problemo

The DAWW