//------------------------------// // Chapter 31 // Story: Down With the Pastryarchy // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Even with all of the trouble and strife—or perhaps because of the trouble and strife—there was a festive, cheerful mood as the bake-off drew near its end. Ponies were celebrating—even though the end was here in more ways than one—ponies found a reason to boogie down and get their groove on. There was a powerful sense of accomplishment in the air and even Twilight felt it. How could she not? It was by her own actions and intervention that this bake-off continued. And it felt good. The staff in the command center were throwing a wrap party; there would be singing and the executive boardroom had been turned into an impromptu discotheque with a sound system and some lights. Manes were being let down, inhibitions were being cast aside, and catered food was being set out. This would be a night to remember. And Twilight, after having endured so much, planned to partake. With the sanguine expression of a chipmunk at peace with the world, Twilight savoured her slice of maple cayenne sweet potato pie. Her cheeks bulged a bit and she certainly didn’t look very princessly right now, but there were all manner of sweets to be eaten. The pie was beyond spicy, it was a sweet potato inferno with the smokey sweetness of smoked maple syrup. With the first bite, the Running of the Leaves came to mind. Autumn. The scent of burning leaf piles. It was a pie that captured a mood, a time, and a place. It wasn’t just a treat, it was an experience. It was utterly amazing and worth being set ablaze. “Sapphire Shores has been delayed, but will be arriving at midnight,” a deadpan voice announced over the public address system. “Welcoming committee, please, adjust your schedules accordingly.” “Sorry, babies, but Mama wants spicy pie.” Then, without further ado, Bundt Buttercream crammed an entire wedge of pie in her maw. With much lip-smacking and pleasurable little squeals, she devoured the fiery treat. Midway through chewing, her eyes turned red, glazed over with tears, and her nose began to run. “Hooooo!” “Goose and I dare one another to see who can eat the hottest curries.” Seville took but a moment to examine his piece of pie, and then bit off a third of it in one chomp. With a thoughtful expression, he chewed for a time, swallowed, and then turned to look at Pinkie. “When you fix this for us, Pinks, more cayenne.” Pinkie, having already eaten a slice of her own pie, chomped into a slice of green tomato pie. At first, she had no reaction, but then something twinkled in her blue eyes and her head began to nod. She took another bite, then another, and it was clear that Pinkie was deep in thought. Twilight wondered what she was thinking. Then, without warning, Seville pulled Pinkie in for a tender but enthusiastic smooch. Twilight’s heart began to pitter-patter, and her breath caught in her throat while her emotions gushed in response. Pinkie seemed touched by the affection, not so much aroused as emotional, and Twilight watched while the pair of them stared into one another’s eyes. “Congrats, Pinks. You done did good. You were the best Pie in the show.” “I heard that capitalisation,” Pinkie replied in an anxious voice while her smile broadened. “I like it when you congratulate me, Seville. It makes my heart all buttery-fluttery. You only say nice stuff when it’s actually deserved, so when you have something nice to say, it means an awful lot coming from you.” Another kiss was exchanged, a brief peck this time, and Seville returned to eating what was left of his pie. Twilight edged closer, sidestepped, and drew closer still. She nickered, and was nickered at in return by her companions. A deep rumbling nicker came from Seville, while Pinkie’s was a bit shrill and held notes of curious excitement. Ears pricked and then rotated to face different directions while the trio made sociable equine noises that weren’t necessarily words. With a great many wickery-nickers, more pie was devoured. Supper was served on a desk, which somepony had thoughtfully covered in a table cloth and placed candles on. The catered food was burro-themed, as was popular in Las Pegasus, and there were plenty of baked goods to be had. Music was playing and the sound of ponies celebrating provided a wonderful background ambiance. It was perfect, for just the three of them. Seeking a change of pace, Twilight ate her food burro-style. That is to say, she did not scoop her beans, rice, and vegetables into a piece of pillowy flatbread. No, she had laid out the flatbread upon her plate, piled it high with toppings, drenched it in salsa, guacamole, added sour cream, and then added even more cheese, because why not? “Seville, why is it that you can’t be honest about what you want?” asked Pinkie, right out of the blue. She had a smear of sour cream and green, lumpy guacamole on her nose. Caught off guard, Seville sat chewing his food while looking confused. “You act different when Twilight is around,” Pinkie Pie continued, ignoring her messy snoot. “When it is just us, you show a different side. But when Twilight is around, you’re a perfect gentlepony. Is it because she’s a princess? If that’s the case, you need to learn to relax.” “I… uh… well, I… you see…” Seville stammered his way through the beginning of a sentence but couldn’t spit it out. “Once upon a time, I was the most innocent of ponies.” Pinkie Pie heaved a sigh while rolling her eyes. “I made the most terribad innuendos and destroyed a couple of family meals at the table because I was so incredibly thick-headed. I had super-duper bad sexual urges that I repressed and squished down and refused to acknowledge and I became downright obnoxiously dense. Like, perverted stuff could be said and it would fly right over my head because of what I’d done to myself. But then Rainbow Dash got me to be honest with myself, my wants, needs, and desires. She showed me the Path of Awesome.” “Path of Awesome?” Seville asked. “Stop trying to change the subject.” Pinkie Pie leaned in closer to Seville, and then licked her snoot clean. “Once I started looking after my own needs, I wasn’t such a spaz, you know? I didn’t have all that insane, crazy energy that an earth pony has when they’re completely and totally cut off from their sexual natures. I did a lot of self exploration, if you get my drift.” Somehow, Twilight continued to eat her food, even with the sensation of imminent combustion that left her hot and sweaty from hoof to ear. “With me, Seville, you say dirty stuff. Perverted stuff. You tell me dirty jokes and they’re great. But Twilight… you treat Twilight like she’s a princess. What I’m trying to say is, she doesn’t know you in the same way I know you, because you show her a completely different side.” Ears drooping, Seville chomped a huge bite of food so he wouldn’t have to talk with his mouth full. “Twilight… this is a pony that once told me that when he got done loving me, his muzzle was going to look like he’d just eaten a baker’s dozen box of extra-glazed donuts. I laughed so hard that I got side stitches, because what an image. And true enough, he was glazed up to his ears.” Upon hearing this, Twilight almost choked and Seville did the same. “We’re past the point of being respectful,” Pinkie Pie said in a low voice. “We fart in the bed with one another—” “No I don’t!” Twilight somehow managed to voice her protest around a mouthful of food. “Twilight… what do you think happens once you fall asleep? Seville… Seville, he snores. He’s a light snorer, but he snores. It’s not bad. A husband that snores is not the worst thing in the world. Overall, Seville is a fine catch. But you… Twilight… you play the tushy tuba all night long. Everything that you hold in in a desperate attempt to be polite, you let out when you’re sleeping. Seville and I suffer for your prolonged silences.” Twilight shook her head in denial. “No—” “Yes.” Seville nodded his head. “It’s like sleeping with a foghorn—” “No!” said Twilight again, this time with a good deal more emphasis. “Twilight,” Pinkie began, while leaning over in Twilight’s direction, “do you ever wonder how your blankets end up on the floor when you sleep?” “I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything.” Eyes narrowing, Twilight let out a contemptuous snort. “I probably kick them off because I get hot—” “No, Twilight, you don’t kick a blanket off across the room. They go flying off and the hot air gives them lift.” Reaching out, Pinkie Pie patted Twilight to comfort her. “Seville and I argue over who is going to be the one to get out of the bed and fetch the blanket. The floor is so cold on the hoofsies after being in such a warm bed.” Horrified, Twilight’s expression went blank and her ears sagged like deflating party balloons. While Twilight sat frozen in horrified shock, Seville muttered, “It’s true. We bicker while you provide dramatic accompaniment with your tuba blasts. I keep telling Pinkie it’s not the horn on your head that we need to be worried about.” At this, both Pinkie Pie and Seville began snickering while Twilight remained aghast. “Sometimes, Pinkie squeezes you while you sleep, trying to play you like a musical instrument. You know how she is. One night, she got off something like a polka.” A daring smirk appeared upon Seville’s muzzle and he dared to look Twilight in the eye. “If we’re going to be married, nothing should be off-limits.” Pinkie Pie wiped her eyes with her foreleg, then reached over and patted Twilight on the cheek. “This is advice that I got from my very bestest sister, Maud. Nothing should be held back. Ever. For any reason.” This struck Twilight as being particularly important, and her own mother had said the exact same thing—only without the mortifying examples that had been brought up by Pinkie and Seville. Twilight’s mother had said, with a great deal of emphasis, that hang ups in marriage brought about divorce, or worse, ponies who stayed together but held contempt for one another. Pinkie was right. Making a snap decision, Twilight plowed right into the danger, facing it the only way she knew how: by being overwhelmed with it. “Seville, I need you to be honest with me. When you think of me, what do you fantasise about?” With a hot blush, she thought about her own fantasies earlier. “Are we doing this?” Seville whispered while his eyes darted in Pinkie Pie’s direction. In response, Pinkie replied, “No holding back.” “I want to watch you and Pinkie making out.” Seville’s ears pricked with interest. “Luna torments my dreams with it. She teases me about it. Something about the colours… pink and lavender together. Especially the pink parts, the pink parts most of all…” His words trailed off and then he licked his lips clean of sour cream and guacamole. Twilight’s own pink parts twitched and she became acutely aware of what she was sitting on. “After watching the two of you grind together for a while, I want to join you. While you’re still grinding. I want to slip between the both of you and then just allow the grinding to happen with me in the middle. And you have to be kissing. Yes, with the kissing. It’s the hottest thing I can think of.” “Well”—Twilight paused and chose her next words carefully—“that’s educational and just so happens to be a revealing look into your desires. It offers some insight as to how we, uh, us, um, it offers some insight as to how the three of us might engage in marital congress with one another, as a group endeavour to seek out pleasurable ends.” “Twilight, there are times when I think you need a translator,” Pinkie deadpanned in the manner of her sister, Maud. Rather than argue, Twilight nodded. “Sometimes I daydream about being trussed up and served for supper. And I have an apple in my mouth and you two nip me. Not real bites, mind you, not the hurty kind of bites, but the make-me-squirty kind of bites. Love nibbles. All over. And the apple is important because I don’t want to be able to tell you to stop. After you’ve sampled my seven courses, you tell each other how sweet and tender and delicious I am, and how I’m the pinkest, most delicious Pie.” Twilight and Seville exchanged a heated, sweaty glance, and Seville’s eyebrow arched. Turning away from Seville, Twilight stared down at her food while trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Pinkie… was kinky. Cadance had tried to say something once, but Twilight had been too embarrassed to listen. She thought of her own experience in the shower not all that long ago. Closing her eyes, Twilight decided to bare her soul. “Earlier, I masturbated in the shower. The entire time, I thought about being dominated by the both of you. I didn’t want to make decisions, or choices, or have to think about anything. I wanted the decisions and the choices to be made for me. I let everything go and I was passive. I thought about how much I trusted the both of you to look after me and my needs, and the more I thought about that, the more arousal I experienced. To just be…”—after a pause, she gulped—“sexually pampered and attended to in such a way that I can just stop being… me.” Cringing, Twilight opened her eyes. Seville and Pinkie were both looking at her; no judgment could be seen upon their faces, no ridicule. The sum of Twilight’s many fears failed to manifest and after several anxious seconds where she found it hard to breathe, relief struck her like a runaway wagon. Pinkie was actually solemn and not even the ghost of a smile could be seen on her muzzle. Seville appeared thoughtful, but that was the natural state of his face when he wasn’t making other expressions. “That makes sense.” Reaching out, Seville grabbed Twilight’s fetlock and held it in his own. “Celestia has shutdown days… days when her endurance has reached its realistic end. Rather than force herself to keep going, as she used to do, back during the dark days when she was all by her lonesome, she calls for a shutdown day. And on that day, she’s pampered and her every conceivable need is attended to. When it’s all said and done, she’s super-productive for several days, but then it starts to taper off again.” “Oh my stars”—Twilight inhaled so hard she almost choked—“you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Thank you.” “Speaking rationally, I suspect that Goose looks after her special needs in the bedroom. I can’t say for certain. There are things that we don’t actually talk about. Well, he and I, that is. Celestia… if the topic is brought up, will talk about it to anypony that will listen. I guess when you’re that old, you have no fronks to give. She’s changed, Celestia.” Twilight felt Seville squeeze her fetlock and so she squeezed him back. Pulling his hoof away, Seville shivered. “I once walked in on a conversation between her and Blueblood. I heard things that day that no mortal pony should hear. She and the Blue Bastard were talking about it over tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I tried to escape, but she dragged me in and sat me down. Then we discussed socio-economic reform and my duties to inform the public. The entire time, I could not look either of them in the eye.” Unable to resist, Twilight had to know. She had to ask. “What, uh, where they discussing?” In response, Seville turned a thousand-yard stare upon her. “I bet I know…” Pinkie giggled, a wicked sound, and squirmed in her folding metal chair. Seville—his breathing shallow, almost nonexistent—said nothing. Reaching out Twilight gripped Pinkie’s fetlock and with a squeeze, implored her to spill the proverbial beans. Pinkie was giggling, her blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and for the very first time, Twilight knew and understood that the pink one was the adventurous sexual deviant in their trio. “I don’t want it done to me, but I wouldn’t mind watching Pinks doing it to you, Sugar Sparkle.” With these words spoken, Pinkie was practically vibrating in her chair. Twilight’s curious nature demanded to know what this curious sexual act might be and she wondered if it involved food, or rope, or perhaps heavy construction equipment. Pinkie had progressed beyond giggling, and was laughing now, laughing almost fit to split. “Tell me… I want to know. Perhaps we can discuss doing it, so Seville, could, uh, watch.” An excited squeal slipped from Pinkie, who was overcome with excitement by Twilight’s words. She gripped Twilight’s fetlock, gave it a mighty squeeze, and in a singsong voice she said, “My foalhole is pink, my panties are frilly. Me and my strapon, we’re gonna fronk you so silly!”