//------------------------------// // The shipping games Chp3 (Cartz1) // Story: The shipping games // by Cartz1 //------------------------------// “Ah…” Pinkie Pie sighed dreamily. Rocking herself forward she pushed her arms out from underneath the blankets and stretched, grimacing at the slight cracks from her vertebrae. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she then hopped out of bed, springing lightly onto her feet totally unaffected by rest as per usual. Walking over to the door she could feel the warm summer’s sun light on her back, its heat greeting her with the comfort and expectation of a wonderful day to come ahead. Thanks to the beginning of summer only being announced yesterday, it didn’t seem like there was going to be any doubt in the world that could stop her from living out her most joyful, fun, exciting… “Oh!” Pinkie’s ears sprung up, she stopped just before turning the knob, surprised by the sound that seemed to have been emitted from downstairs. “Honey do you really think…” Pinkie couldn’t make out what the voice was saying, but definitely recognised its owner and its location. Carefully and stealthily; she opened up the door and snuck out, tiptoeing her way to the top of the staircase with total concentration on her hoof steps. She needed to get a better vantage point of the Cake’s conversation in the kitchen. Peering her head off the banister but as not to be seen, Pinkie extended her ear over the railing, finally able to pick up the conversation. “…But the kids are sleeping and Pinkie could wake any mom-,” Mr. Cakes voice trailed off, suppressed by a loud “Shh.” “Quiet honey; just let me do the work…” Suddenly, a sharp grunt from Mr. Cake vibrated up the hall way, followed by a short gasp by his wife. The noises continued; getting faster and sharper, louder and more vulgar. In fact the thumping of a wooden bench could be heard in synchronisation with the couple’s noises, while also growing louder and faster. Mr. Cake’s grunt began turning into a groan, Mrs. Cake’s gasps turned into pants. Pinkie stammered back from the banister. Could what she be hearing be true? Could they really be… “Oh, Frank” Mrs. Cake groaned slowly. “Oh, Abigail…” Mr. Cake responded with the same amount of intimacy in his voice. No. That was enough. Pinkie couldn’t stand it any longer, not now, not while their kids were only two doors down from hers, fast asleep and totally unaware of the cake’s ‘actions’ and most epically NOT in the kitchen. Without any further questions she bolted down the stairs, the world flew by in a blur, her mind and determination set on the kitchen to reveal the two scoundrels that had being going at ‘it’ for the last half an hour. Arriving in the kitchen door with her hoofs held over her eyes, just for safety, she yelled at the top of her voice. “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!” The kitchen was silent. Lifting a hoof she couldn’t believe the sight she saw. “What’s wrong Pinkie?” Mr. Cake retorted, brushing the flower off his face. “Did we wake you?” Standing in the middle of the kitchen was one of the most delicious cakes Pinkie had ever laid eyes on, it stood five feet tall wrapped in different kinds of icing and decorations, white all over complete with a mare in a white dress and a colt in a tuxedo standing at the top. “What is that!?!” Pinkie exclaimed, forgetting her worries and trotting towards the gargantuan cake. “It’s our wedding present to Abigail and Frank,” Mrs. Cake chirped trotting around the side of the cake in pride. “They needed a wedding cake, and what other better people to make one but us!” Pinkie’s gaze fell away from the cake as she began to blush. “What’s wrong Pinkie?” Mr. Cake asked gently trotting over to Pinkie with a concerned expression on his face. “N..Nothing I just thought…” She looked at the two, both starring back quite confused. “Nothing.” Mr. Cake went to say something but Pinkie was already leaving the room. Her foot steps could be heard trailing out of the house and the door slamming behind her. Both ponies left in the kitchen looked guilty at the floor then let out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit that was close,” Mrs. Cake sighed in relief. “Tell me about it,” Mr. Cake giggled to himself. Mrs. Cake looked up at Mr. Cake with some expectancy in her eyes, licking her lips slowly. “So… You still got another one?” “Yup,” Mr. Cake smirked, bringing out another condom from the pocket on his chief’s coat. “Let’s get baking.”