Chapter 33
“Oi, you look sleepy, tyke. Did ya not get enough nap? No, don’t you get grumpy. You’re not quite the grandfoal I expected, but I’m glad to have ya all the same. Oi, no… none of that.” Butter Fudge gave the filly a gentle squeeze before she could work up a good squall, and much to her relief, it was enough to distract, for a moment.
“I have something special for you, so I do. Some rice pudding. It’ll be good and runny, and for you, it’ll be a treat, I think. I bet you’re hungry. Just be patient, it’ll be done in no time at all.”
Esmeralda blinked once, looked around the kitchen, and then asked, “Dada?”
In response, Butter Fudge smiled, a wide, broad grin that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Your Dada and your Mama are upstairs. I’m a bit miffed about all that, I am. It’s all out of order. Oh, I’m happy they're together, but I’m sore about what’s keeping them apart. All these circumstances and the like. They should be married before doing what they’re doing, but your Dada… he’s a good and proper sort. I’m trusting that he’ll do right by my little Beezy.”
“Beezy?”
Hearing Esmeralda say this caused Butter Fudge’s face to make an exaggerated look of surprise. Her eyes widened, her ears stood up, and after they pricked, she made them waggle, which made the little filly almost smile. “Oi, that’s right. Beezy. Beezy is your Mama, and I am Beezy’s Mama, so that makes me your Mama’s Mama. Sure, the marriage hasn’t happened yet, but I’m sure it will… I hope. I really hope… otherwise, I’m going to hate myself for letting this happen with my blessing. Esmeralda, I’m not a trustful sort, so I’m not. It gives me fits that this is happening. Little Beezy… I think I’ve made a few mistakes, and, well, now I’m relaxing my better judgment to try and make up for it. It’s hard, Esmeralda. So hard.”
“Beezy?” Looking hopeful, the earth pony filly turned a pleading stare upon poor Butter Fudge, perhaps hoping that the kind mare might make Beezy appear.
On the stove, the lid on the simmering pot clattered, and from up above, a steady, rhythmic thumping could be heard. Butter Fudge glanced upwards for a moment, and then she shifted her bulk because sitting this way was causing her hip to cramp up. Though she hated to admit it, she was getting older, though not yet old. But a lifetime of hard labour was catching up to her. Sometimes, her back ached, or her hips, but not enough to slow her down.
“They’ve been up there for over an hour, and that thump-thump-thumping has been going on for at least forty minutes or so. Now, Esmeralda, I’m not one to judge or to stick my nose where it don’t belong, but I have to tell ya, that’s impressive. No doubt, you’ll be hearing a lot of that as you’re growing up. Curds and whey, I hope Beezy is okay. She’s such a little thing.”
“Florp!” Pointing at her mouth with one hoof, Esmeralda made the saddest eyes she could and then repeated herself, “Florp!”
“Hang on, I’ll have to put you down so I can check on the rice pudding. Don’t you dare start crying. I can’t do two things at once, and if you cry, I’ll have to quiet you, and that means waiting longer for food.”
Her patience having reached its end, Esmeralda had but one demand: “Florp!”
Fearful, Butter Fudge put Esmeralda down upon the floor and waited for a moment to see what would happen. Esmeralda. Such a funny burro name; upon first learning the foal’s name, Butter Fudge had a lot she wanted to say, but she had held her tongue. Now, for some odd reason, she couldn’t imagine calling the filly anything else. The name was perfect, and suited her.
“Florp?’ Again, Esmeralda pointed at her mouth with her hoof, and then moving her hoof down, she patted her tummy. “Ow.”
“Hang on to your nappy, tyke. Oof! I really need to cut back on the cheese curds and gravy over fried potatoes.”
Standing up took a bit more effort than she would have liked, and Butter Fudge was a mare all too aware of the jiggle in her backside. Mighty Midge insisted that he liked her jiggles, but she was mistrustful and uncertain. As was often the case, stallions said one thing while doing another—typically doing that young mare that was half his age and whose backside had not grown flabby with age.
The trip to the stove was a short one and so far, so good. No crying had happened just yet, but there were a wide variety of fussy noises; sniffles, snorts, whimpers, and whines. When the lid was removed, a delicious scent wafted out, filling the kitchen with the heady aroma of vanilla. It was still pretty runny, which was perfect. Now it just needed to cool, which was a problem. She was going to have to get creative, otherwise, Esmeralda’s patience was sure to run out, and that would be a disaster. Before she forgot, Butter Fudge turned off the stove.
“Oi, there’ll be a need to do laundry later. Mind you, I’ll not be doing it. Beezy’s a big girl, and she can do her own laundry. Curds and whey, what’ll the neighbors be thinking if I hang the sheets out to dry? It’s not my washday… bugger. They’ll be talk… everypony will know something’s amiss.”
“Curds?” Esmeralda did her best to look both hopeful and sad.
Humming to herself, Butter Fudge stirred the pot with a large wooden spoon, and somewhere about mid-stir she decided that she didn’t mind the thumping from upstairs too much. Maybe this would only lead to good things. It didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would, and really, this would be the way of things if Buttermilk returned home to raise a family here in this well-established homestead.
Honestly, Butter Fudge wouldn’t mind that at all.
A stick of butter was tossed into the rice pudding, and Butter Fudge began stirring, hoping it would cool off a bit. Esmeralda fussed, but didn’t cry. No, she pantomimed her own imminent demise, squirming while gesturing at her mouth and stomach. If her sad eyes were to be believed, she was dying, and would expire from starvation any second now.
“Curds and bugger!”
This caused Butter Fudge to drop her spoon. “Oi! That’s enough out of ya! Oi, what a little rascal! Where'd ya learn such language! I know yer hungry, ya wee little scrap, but language! What do yer Dada and Mama say around ya?”
“Florp!” Sitting on her fresh-diapered backside, Esmeralda waved her forelegs around in protest.
“It has to cool, tidbit!” Recovering her spoon, Butter Fudge continued to stir the pot while keeping one watchful eye on Esmeralda.
“Whumumulumum!” Sticking out her tongue, Esmeralda blew an angry raspberry and continued to wave her forelegs around. She bounced once on her bottom, almost lost her balance, and let out a whoop when she just about fell over. Red-faced, she let out a whinny of frustration; afterwards, she just sat there, looking cross and sullen.
Something about all of this struck Butter Fudge as being supremely funny; every single one of her expectations about her daughter had been subverted, and by extension, her granddaughter as well. Yet, here she was, in her kitchen with a foal that most certainly wasn’t Buttermilk’s, and Butter Fudge’s ever-increasing fondness for the little filly couldn’t be denied, nor could the fact that her daughter called this foal her own.
It occured to Butter Fudge that she was set in her own ways, and there was a chance that the way she viewed the world wouldn’t survive this. Her daughter was upstairs, in the guest room, unmarried, with an earth pony, the tribe that Butter Fudge trusted the least, even though she was one. Even worse, Butter Fudge had allowed this, she had allowed this to happen in her house—she had given her daughter over into a nightmare scenario from which there might be great harm—the worst sort of harm, because who knew; Copperquick, for all of his seeming goodness, was still an earth pony.
And everypony knew what was said about earth ponies.
All of this caused a dreadful sort of anxiety to build up in poor Butter Fudge. What had she done? What was she doing? What had she been thinking? How could all of this happen? Shaken, she stood near the stove, her muscles tense, dancing, and there was an awful heaviness in her heart that disturbed her a great deal.
“Oi, Esmeralda… you know what… I don’t think anybody says to themselves, ‘I’m going to grow up and be a bigot.’ Or maybe some do, but not me. I didn’t plan it.” She sighed, a long, drawn out groan that almost became a wicker. “I’m fierce irritated at Buttermilk over everything… everything. She turned out so perfect and good. I can’t prove her wrong, Esmeralda. Oi, parts of me want her to be wrong… and I think it’s because I don’t want to be wrong myself. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Bugger!”
“Yeah, that about sums it up, tyke.” Too disheartened to chastise her granddaughter, Butter Fudge nodded.
A single terrifying, intense scream rent the peacefulness of the moment and every single hair along Butter Fudge’s spine stood up on end. Tilting her head, she looked upwards, at the ceiling, and before she could respond, there was another shriek, this one even louder than the first. Butter Fudge found herself in the most horrible of places, and her first instinct, her first response, was to go upstairs and rip Copperquick a new one. She remained frozen in place though, unable to move, with a seldom-heard voice in the back of her mind saying that Copperquick, earth pony or not, would never intentionally hurt the pony he loved.
Even now, after the screams, Butter Fudge could not deny that her daughter was loved. Something dreadful must have happened, an accident. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, stuff happened, even to the best of lovers. Why, even Mighty Midge sometimes banged upon the back door, unannounced, and he was always so apologetic afterwards. Though her heart was pounding upon the back of her tongue right now, almost choking her, she refused to believe that Copperquick would harm Buttermilk on purpose.
From upstairs, there was a third and final yell…
Buttermilk was absolutely soaked—drenched even—disheveled, and smelly. Butter Fudge still had to stop herself from pulling her daughter into a cuddle, because that would be weird. Butter Fudge’s little pegasus filly—she was a mare now, now more than ever—wore a spooked expression and panted with every breath. She stood in the kitchen doorway, her tail tucked tight between her hind legs, and whatever maturity she had gained while away from home now seemed departed.
“Beezy, what happened?” Behind Butter Fudge, Esmeralda began to fuss, because she still hadn’t been fed. “You look a frightful mess, Beezy… what happened? Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
“Moomy!” Buttermilk somehow choked out the word and then squeezed her eyes shut. Sweat—mingling with tears—ran down her face, dripped from her fuzzy cheeks, and left dark splotches on the floor around her front hooves.
“Beezy, are you hurt?” Butter Fudge waited for a response, something to ease her growing state of terror.
“Moomy!” Buttermilk blurted out, her eyes still squeezed shut, the whole of her body inflexible and rigid. “The condom broke! It burst! It couldn’t hold everything!”
There was just no good way to respond to this and Butter Fudge’s mind went blank. Her ears rose and fell, her mouth opened and closed, and her eyes blinked in some odd, almost mechanical way while she tried to process what her daughter had just said. A jumble of words that outnumbered the stars blinked into existence within her mind, too many words to conceive, too many words to say, too many words for any sort of rational response.
“What do I do?” Buttermilk sounded like a filly once more, quiet and meek. “There is so much of it inside of me. A flood.”
“Go back upstairs, Beezy—”
“Moomy, what? Help me!” Buttermilk’s eyes opened in shock.
“Beezy… go back upstairs. You’re being selfish right—”
“What?” Hurt, confused, a look of betrayal in her eyes, Buttermilk squirmed in place.
“Beezy”—this was, perhaps, the hardest moment that Butter Fudge had ever experienced as a mother, and she longed to comfort her daughter—“poor Copper is probably dying of fright right now and you’ve just left him. If you think you’re scared, try to imagine what Copper is feeling. Go upstairs, Beezy. It’s time you left foalish things behind. Go be a mare, Beezy.”
“You’re right…”—Buttermilk’s ears collapsed and her head dropped low—“poor Copper.”
When Buttermilk turned around to go, Butter Fudge was certain that her heart would burst. Esmeralda’s fussiness could no longer be contained and the little filly, perhaps having seen her mother in such a frightful state, began to squall. Butter Fudge still wanted to rush to her daughter to comfort her, to reassure her, to somehow make all of this okay, but Buttermilk had grown up—little Beezy had flown away. But there was still another foal to comfort, and that was the only thing that made this whole awful situation bearable.
“Oi, Esmeralda, Grandmare’s coming, don’t you fret.” For just a second longer, Butter Fudge lingered, and watched as her daughter vanished beyond the kitchen doorway. The sound of hooves on the stairs could be heard, a sound that held such solemn finality. “Poor tyke,” she muttered to herself, “I’d say you’re about to have a brother or a sister. Oh sod everything… poor Beezy must be damn near pissing herself about her future. I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t want this to happen.”
Shuffling through her kitchen, her hooves too heavy to lift, Butter Fudge went to tend to Esmeralda’s needs.
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Nice product placement!
they're
Edit: Spring wasn't the only thing that broke.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2015/10/19/1005816.gif
Uh oh. This could either way now.
...He broke it?
That's hella impressive.
... Not to be crass but it sounds like she got one-stallion bukkake'd. They weren't kidding about earth pony virility. If he can put out that much that kind of makes sense why earth ponies feel the need to sleep around, they'd produce more than their partners are capable of keeping up with, and I'm not sure they can self-care that away often enough. Damn.
Hmm did they get the wrong condom, are condom not really a mature product or what?
Because yes it happens that condoms break... but as they ARE specifically made for a certain activity it is quite a remote possibility... As the prowess of the Earth Pony is so famous it would make sense that condoms for earth ponies are QUITE strong [and even magically enhanced in robustness...]
Dayyyuuummmm!!! Go Copper!!!
8906831
Over 40 minutes of sustained friction + huge load + tight, small orifice =
8906865
Still seems kind of like poor engineering.
Or really unclear marketing.
8906865
Hm the question then is how unusual is that with earth ponies? I understand that it seems a LOT... but from what has been said that is not out of the ordinary for earth pony [with maybe the exception of the tight small orifice as Earth mares are bigger at a guess...]
So the condoms should be built to that segment... [Especially since other form of contraception have been said to get bypassed often by the Earth pony fertility...]
8906950
8906948
In this case, a variety of factors that all came together at the wrong moment. Copper hasn't boned for a long, long time.
I actually looked up common reasons for condom breakage, and one of the common factors were penis too big in a partner too tight, while not leaving enough room at the end for a suitable reservoir. The sides of the condom weaken with each thrust, and more and more of the condom gets stretched down to the base of the penis, getting stretched lengthwise, and growing thinner near the tip. And then, when climax happens, you have half of the condom stretched thin, and if you don't leave sufficient room for expansion, the sudden release can cause the condom to quite literally explode.
... ha!
It spring broke alright!
Well, worst-case scenario, they can both work on the family farm and raise their children together...
8907381
That is actually a pretty good outcome.
8906610
Yeah, they're going to need a new mattress.
Wow that sucks.
I'm giggling at the weird misfortune I'm seeing here. Besides enhanced virility, does equestria have emergency contraceptives?
Well, looks like we've hit the "broke" in Spring Broke.
I was fully expecting the scene to cut to the bedroom and showing that the thumping noise was something else and not the two of them doing the deed.
... ... Has she been watching Rick and Morty?
Oh wow. Quite a bit going on in this chapter. Certainly some great revelations from the Grandma, and ESPECIALLY some powerful trust right there at not going up an banging on their door.
Though poor Esmeralda. She's STILL not been feed here at the end of the chapter T_T
Is this an origin story for Bean and Toast? I don't remember if anything was said about their background but they do sound like they could be the product of 2 civic minded bureaucates.
8913029
Uh. they're not even in this story.
8913052
They're in the same Weedverse and your stories tend to link to each other. And clearly they can't be in the story if they haven't been born yet.
8913128
Beans and toast are from the Isles mate. And considering this is just before swans (Seville makes that clear) and Beans & Toast are roughly Gosling’s age, this can’t be their conception.