• Published 4th Jul 2013
  • 2,913 Views, 333 Comments

Pounds For Pumpkins - Crescent Wrench

As Pumpkin's due date comes closer and closer, Pound is drafted into the Equestrian military to defend against an inevitable Zebraik invasion of Equestria. How will they keep their love together?

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Pounds For Pumpkins



“R-Right there, Poun- MMMmmmm!” Pumpkin Cake squealed, a feeling of brief pleasure washing through her, a rarity these days.

“Like that?” Pound Cake breathed into her ear. Pumpkin whimpered a quiet, “Yes.”

“You've got to work it in a little bit lower, Pound,” Carrot Cake said. “Here, swap me.”

Pound breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he took a few steps from his sister, slumping into a beanbag while his father took over the administrations.

“AH!” Pumpkin immediately felt her father go to work, and he was amazing. He really knew exactly how to treat a mare, that was for sure. Pumpkin could feel herself really loosening up to him.

“Is that better, baby?” Carrot Cake asked his daughter. She nodded appreciatively.

“It feels really good, daddy,” she murmured, feeling lighter and lighter as Carrot really worked it into her.

“Of course it does, baby, I've doing this a lot longer than your brother has been,” Carrot Cake commented, sending a smirk towards Pound Cake. Pound, still having quite the struggle with his fight or flight reactions, tried hiding behind his large head of fudge mane while simultaneously scowling and shouting, “Hey!”

Carrot Cake chuckled before looking back down at his daughter, sitting hunched before him. Her fair orange coat was slicked in warm oil, coconut scented at her request.

The door to the room opened and Cup Cake strolled in, carrying a tray of warm, steaming towels.

“I hope you are being careful with our baby, Carrot!” Cup Cake said to her husband, setting the tray down on the table next to Carrot and Pumpkin. “Or did you forget the time you slipped a hoof and messed my back up for three weeks?”

Pumpkin's eyes went wide in horror.

“Get off of me!!!” she squealed, her hooves squirming madly.

Carrot Cake chuckled as he helped Pumpkin to her hooves, tossing her a warm, slightly damp towel from the pile Cup had just brought in.

“And that is why you don't let your father give you a massage when you're pregnant,”Cup Cake chuckled, trotting over to her son and rubbing his mane with her hoof. “And I think you already know where you crossed the line, little guy.”

Pound Cake blushed as he tried to swat away his mother's hoof, fixing his mane. His mother couldn't help but laugh at his reaction or antics.

“It wasn't on purpose,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, try saying that when you're five months along and can feel... something inside you,” Pumpkin said as she trotted over to Pound. Before he had any time to react, Pumpkin had wrapped his lips with her own and embraced him passionately. Immediately, all tension from either of them melted away as they shared their moment, Pound's hoof subconsciously lifting itself to rest right along Pumpkin's ribs. He could almost feel them now.

Pound was the one who broke away.

“You need to eat more, baby. I can almost tickle your kidneys,” he said with a giggle as he ran his hoof along Pumpkin's side, eliciting a giggle from Pumpkin herself.

Cup Cake swore under her breath while smirking.

“Be thankful she's only five months in, or you'd be eating those words yourself, Pound,” Cup said with a chuckle before plopping herself down in front on Carrot Cake, relaxing her shoulders.

“My turn.”

Carrot Cake obliged, lathering his wife's back with an oil-soaked towelette before working his magic. Cup was broken down to oooh's and aaah's within a matter of seconds.

Pound Cake pulled Pumpkin down next to him, wrapping a hoof around her while carefully stroking her tummy. It was slightly pooched out now, a small lump barely visible. Pound cocked an eyebrow.

“Shouldn't it be... bigger by now?”

Pumpkin facehoofed, surprised she hadn't seen her brother's inevitably insensitive comment coming.

“No, not for at least another month, Pound,” she said before lying against him. Snuggling up to her lover, she let a sigh of happiness escape her. Pound squeezed her tighter, reassuringly.

“Well then, I suppose I have another month of taking you to the bar with me,” Pound chuckled.

Pumpkin looked up, surprised at her brother's uncharacteristically bold statement.

“Wait, seriously?”

“That is, if you want to go...” he stumbled, his sense of bravado lost just as quickly as he had found it.

Pumpkin giggled as she stood up, letting her tail trail along the bottom of his chin before snapping it away.

“That... sounds like a good time, actually.”

Pound gulped with a smirk as Pumpkin trotted out, swaying her hips from side to side the best she could with the minute bulge on her underside.

“Hey, dad?” Pound called out to his father, still looking after where Pumpkin had left.

“Hm?” his father answered with a grunt, focused wholly on giving his wife the best massage of her life.

“Pumpkin and I are going out for a little bit,” he said as he scrambled to his hooves, chasing after his love. “We'll be back in a bit.”

“No problem, be safe,” Carrot Cake murmured, barely audible, as he stroked his wife's back with a tender care that only came from years of experience.

Pound skittered out of the room, hooves slipping on the wood flooring as he gave chase to Pumpkin, meeting her halfway down the hall.

Pumpkin was barely aware Pound was behind her until she was spun around and pulled along after him, Pound grinning.

“Let's go!”


The music was nice and lively as Pound and Pumpkin both trotted through the doors to the Pale Horse.

He really did take me to a bar, Pumpkin whimpered in her mind as Pound was greeted by a rather lanky stallion with a white coat, brown patches here and there across his hide.

“Pound, good ta see you, mate!” he bellowed, obviously intoxicated as he threw a leg over Pound's shoulder.

“Hey, Pipsqueak, how's it going?”

Pipsqueak just giggled maniacally as a fair-coated dark pink unicorn trotted over, her yellow mane styled and soft.

“He's drunk. Again. How do you think it's going?”

Pound laughed as he met hooves with the mare, nodding politely.

“Good to see you again, Dinky.”

“You too, Pound. And Pumpkin, I haven't seen you in ages!”

Pumpkin smiled as she embraced Dinky, hugging each other.

“Same here, Dinky, how's your sister?”

“Ditzy is doing just fine, she loves the gift baskets,” Dinky giggled.

“Hey, lay off my smoochykins!” Pipsqueak suddenly called, throwing himself (quite literally) between the two mares.

Drunk Pipsqueak was best Pipsqueak.

“So you two are back together?” Pumpkin asked Dinky with a cocked brow while simultaneously taking a step back, letting Pipsqueak flop loudly onto the floor between them.

“Not if he can't keep his party a little more controlled,” Dinky muttered with a smirk as Pipsqueak grabbed at Dinky, trying to pull himself up.

“Oh c'mon, bay-bay. You know me, this dashing stallion here. It's not a par-tay unless I'm a little drunk-ay!” Pipsqueak countered, his accent comically thick.

Dinky facehoofed. “That doesn't even make any sense,” she said quietly, still smirking however.

“But you love it, bay-bay,” Pipsqueak giggled.

Dinky rolled her eyes as the four headed to a table. Pound helped Pumpkin slide in, a few eyes trailing after the two as they settled themselves in to the booth.

“Pound, some ponies are staring,” Pumpkin said with a faint blush, trying to keep her eyes from wandering.

Pound showed less tact as he threw a hoof over the back of the booth and puffed up his chest, looking around and glaring at any disapproving looks he received. His confidence problems aside, he was very built for a pony, and he did not take kindly to anypony frightening his marefriend.

“Any problems?” he called out, his confidence levels high in response to Pumpkin's nervousness. He was never going to let anypony else make her feel bad again.

All eyes left the two and returned to their respective places.

Pound sighed as he turned back forward.

“Still having problems with... well, others accepting you two?” Dinky asked, noticing what had just happened.

“It's nothing serious,” Pumpkin assured Dinky. “Most of the ponies who know are perfectly fine about it, after we explained that we actually love each other. Even Applebloom finally came around to us in the end, though she still doesn't like us all too much...”

“Well thank Faust for small mercies,” Dinky laughed as she grabbed Pipsqueak by his leg, causing him to yelp as she pulled him off of the table, sitting him in his seat.

“No more sugar for you,” she informed him.

“But... but but but... What would Woona do?!?” he cried, flailing his legs in a drunken fit.

“He is... certainly a chore,” Pumpkin commented.

“He's normally such a sweet, polite stallion. But give him a glass of ale, and...” Dinky waved her hooves at the stallion, who was once again cackling like a madpony.

The three sober ponies laughed lightly as a familiar gray colt trotted up to their table.

“Hey Pale,” Pound said to the former bartender. Pale gave Pound a grin.

“Ey, it's Pound! How's it going with you and your mare?” he asked before bowing politely to Pumpkin.

“Since you saw me the first time... much better.”

“The first time?” Pumpkin asked pound. He waved her question away.

“Told you ya needed to nut up,” Pale laughed. “So, you all come here for the drinks or you willing to be Chef's latest taste testers?”

Pumpkin laughed oblivious to just how serious Pale was while Pound took a quick look over the list of drinks.

“A raspberry daiquiri,” Dinky ordered.

“I'm fine with some iced tea, if you have any.”

“We got home-brewed or Manehatten,” Pale said, winking.

“Home-brewed, please,” Pumpkin said.

“And you, lover-colt?” Pale asked Pound.

“I'll take the Manehatten, actually,” Pound replied. Pale nodded.

“Alright, I'll have these out short-”

“Hey, whattabou' me?” Pip suddenly asked.

“You ain't getting anything else, you're closed off for the night,” Pale growled with a smirk. Pip growled right back, albeit a drunken angry growl.







“Pretty please?”




Pale trotted off as Pipsqueak pulled his top half onto the table, letting his torso flop onto the cold polished wood.

Pumpkin settled back against Pound as she listened to the performers on the small stage in the center of the room finish up their song, receiving a few clopping of hooves from around the room.

Pound let himself relax, feeling his muscles slowly loosen themselves naturally.

“... as yet another report of a bombing came in to Canterlot from our southern borders earlier this morning.”

Pound's ears flicked up at the words. He glanced over to a television set in the corner of the room.

Pound waved for a random waitress, pointing at the television. “Can you turn that up, please?”

The room slowly grew quieter as the mare turned the volume on the television set up, everypony in the room listening to the news broadcast.

“It is still unclear whether or not this was in response to the message our ambassadors sent to the Zebraik counsel last week, but the fact remains that Equestria might very well be going on the defensive-”

Several ponies in the room gasped as the reporter on screen suddenly turned around to see a small building in the background explode marvelously.

“Oh my- it seems the hotel building that the Equestrian ambassador to the Zebraik counsel has- AAAH!”

The reporter cried as a number of ornate spears suddenly flew into the video feed's vision, and then the video went to static. A few moments later, the usual news crew at Canterlot returned.

“Well that was... unexpected. We will get back as quickly as we can as to what exactly is going on in the badlands.”

The reporter mare suddenly leaned to the side, telling the crew to cut to commercial. The screen was then filled with an advertisement for some breakfast cereal.

The chat refused to resume as the entire bar was dead silent. Everypony was stunned at the sudden news report.

Slowly, the whispering began.

Equestria being attacked?

Zebraik counsel?

What's going on?

Pound shared a look with Pumpkin. This wasn't good news. It had been over twenty years since Equestria had ever been in a military conflict with another nation, something their father was very thankful for. How would he respond, knowing this new bit of information?

The news mare returned, silence once again sweeping the room.

She coughed once, smiled for the camera, and began reading along with the news ticker at the bottom of the screen.

“Mares and Gentlecolts, I am afraid to inform you that in response to what was accidentally broadcast moments ago, the Equestrian Guard has officially declared war on the Zebraik tribes of the Badlands.”