Before
With a deadpan expression, Pebble Pie watched her Aunt Pinkie Pie as the pink mare stared into the mirror. Pinkie Pie inflated for a moment, taking a deep breath, and then deflated with the flatulent sound of a pinched balloon. She made an attempt to smooth out her riotous pink curls, but then gave up when the curls made it clear that they had their own plans, thanks for trying, now please go away. As Pinkie retracted her hoof, a curl reached out and gave her a parting slap.
“I swear, Pebble, as I grow older, it grows fussier,” Pinkie Pie said and then she sighed again. Reaching out, she touched the mirror, tapped on it once, twice, and then before her hoof rapped upon it for the third time, she pulled away with a shake of her head. The curly mess on her head now seemed even worse than before, perhaps because they had been startled by the knocks on the mirror.
“I’m supposed to go out for dinner and a movie tonight with Twilight and Seville.” Pinkie sighed again and this time, when she exhaled, several of her curls deflated. They hung there, limp, looking tired, and Pinkie scowled at her own reflection. “I’ve never really bothered with looking pretty before, but I want to look pretty, Pebble… but look at me. My mane is a mess and”—she reached down with both front hooves and squeezed a roll of belly-pudge between them—“there’s this. A sure sign that I’ve eaten too much fudge and now I have a pudge and now I can’t budge.”
As a sign of solidarity, Pebble nodded, then reached down and pinched her own roll of belly-pudge through her dress. It was considerable, or seemed that way when she squished it between her two front hooves and gave it a tug. For a brief second, Pebble’s face contorted as she seethed with frustration, knowing all too well that she was losing an important battle in her own life, but after grimacing and narrowing her eyes, her face relaxed back into her usual deadpan expression.
Pebble too, had a date tonight, but she wasn’t keen on going. No, at this point, at this particular moment in time, she wanted to hide in a dark room somewhere and eat a whole gallon of butterscotch triple-ripple ice cream. It seemed like the only option, really. Since she couldn’t defeat it, she might as well give in to it and embrace her future self.
“I don’t know what happened,” Pinkie said to her reflection in the mirror. “I used to be able to gobble down whole cakes, entire pies, brownies, sodas, and all of the sugary treats I wanted. Sure, I was always a little bit chubby, but I could live with that. Now look at you”—she paused to scowl at her own reflection—“when you sit down on the floor your belly button is touching the floor. And I can’t even recall the last time I could see my own teats when I peeked back between my front legs. No, now I have to lift and lean back in front of a mirror if I want to see my old friends. They don’t even write letters, they just up and left me.”
“Letters?” Pebble said to her aunt. “I can’t even see my own mail slot without backing up to a mirror and hiking up my tail.”
“Oh, that’s bad, Pebble, that’s bad.” Pinkie Pie began nodding and there was quite a look of alarm in her bright blue eyes.
“I want to upgrade my postal box for package delivery, but I feel so fat and gross.”
“Pebble… um…” Pinkie squirmed and stared at Pebble’s reflection in the mirror.
“Can a filly be too fat to fronk?”
“Pebble…” Pinkie turned away from the mirror and Pebble looked up while her aunt looked down at her. “Oooh, Pebble, why’d you have to say that? Now I have an entirely new worry in my head and it is awful!”
“Misery loves company,” Pebble deadpanned.
Her aunt seemed at a loss for words, and though she didn’t show it, Pebble felt kind of bad for being a buzzkill. Sometimes… sometimes the only time she felt better was when everypony was as miserable as her, which made her the Anti-Auntie Pinkie. Long ago Pebble had observed that her Aunt Pinkie was at her best when she made everypony as happy as she was.
“Cheer up, Pebble.” Reaching out, Pinkie delivered a light, reassuring tap on Pebble’s chin and then did her best to have a convincing smile. “We have to trust that those who care about us and love us mean what they say. Maybe they don’t see us the way that we see us—”
“I’ve heard this before.”
“I know, and maybe you need to hear it now. Maybe I need to hear it now. Twilight and Seville are very dear to me. I’m still sorting out my feelings and I don’t know where all of this is going and I don’t know how all of this will end. What I do know is, I need to trust what they say and how they feel about me. It’s hard though, because there is all of this doubt—and let’s face it, the pony in the mirror isn’t exactly my friend these days, and we just sort of tolerate each other—but I just sorta hold on to the trust that I have in my friends.”
Sighing, Pebble considered her aunt’s words and tried to take them to heart. She poked her pudge with her front hoof, sighed again, and then was washed over by a flood of deep and abiding shame. “I can’t even reach back there to rub one out without having to do scrunches that wad up my flab and that gives me horrible cramps in my sides and makes it impossible to breathe.”
“Pebble—”
“When I was little, it was so hard to relate to you and you and I didn’t exactly get along and I did a lot of things that made our relationship difficult and I still feel bad about that because now I feel closer to you than I do my own mother sometimes. I sort of resent my mother, sometimes, because she really can eat all that she wants and she never ever whatsoever packs on even a single extra pound. My mother is the mare that I wish that I could be, but you, you… I can talk to you about things that I can’t tell my mother about, because you know what it is like.”
Sucking in a shuddering breath, Pebble was about to say more, to blurt out everything, but was interrupted by a sudden, crushing hug. Nopony could hug another pony quite like Pinkie Pie. Nopony could make the sweet, crushing embrace of certain death so enjoyable or welcome. It could even be said that Pinkie Pie had a body made for hugging, and there was a most delightful squish to it.
Much to Pebble’s amazement, the hug really did make things better, and she hoped that it wouldn’t end any time soon. Limp, she hung there like an overstuffed rag doll and she let her aunt try to squeeze all of the rotten feelings out. Eyes shut tight, it occurred to Pebble that if her Aunt Pinkie could give perfect hugs, then maybe, just maybe, she could too. It was a small, but welcome consolation, and the corners of Pebble’s mouth were tugged upwards as her cheeks drew tight.
“The other day, I found not one, but two grey hairs.” Pinkie’s voice was husky with strain and she squeezed even tighter, tight enough to make Pebble’s eyes bulge. “I’m such a silly pony… I broke down and I cried for about an hour and I thought about the fact that not only am I a pudgy, pudgy pony, but I’m also getting old. This really bothered me, and it hurt me, and all I could think about was, what if things don’t work out between Twilight, Seville, and I? There’s a whole lotta mares out there and so few stallions and I really started to worry. Who’s gonna want a chubby grey maned mare when somepony younger and fitter and not grey maned could be found? And oh boy, that scared me and sent me into a tizzy and I pretty much emptied out the fridge and then I cried some more because I felt so bad about eating so much and then I ate even more to cheer myself up and well, I think you know how this turns out.”
“The other day, I got a pumpkin sundae—a pumpkin filled with ice cream… first I ate the ice cream, and then, I ate the pumpkin. Sly watched me do it, and it made me feel weird, but I didn’t care. The pumpkin seeds were all toasted and salty and delicious and the pumpkin was all cold and creamy… mmm, mmm.” Something crackled in Pebble’s spine and a look of near-ecstasy could be seen on the filly’s face as Pinkie kept applying more and more pressure.
“Oh, that sounds good, we should get one of those and share it—”
“Get your own,” Pebble said in a voice that was too warm and emotional to be a deadpan. It was more of a… lifepan, really, brimming with affection and feeling.
“No, no, we should share,” Pinkie Pie insisted and she pressed her muzzle down into her niece’s mane. The chocolate brown filly in her embrace just sort of hung there, limp, not doing much of anything, but there was a twinkle in her eye and that was enough to motivate Pinkie to keep squeezing.
Pebble, no longer a little filly, but more of a big filly, wouldn’t be smaller than her aunt for much longer. Even though she would never, ever admit it, she treasured these moments, these delightful distractions, and she knew that when she was all grown up, things would be different in ways she could not even begin to conceive. Growing up would suck, but Pebble was certain of one thing: she would always have somepony to talk to with her Aunt Pinkie.
“You know what,” Pinkie whispered into Pebble’s ear, which caused it to twitch. “I don’t think I need to do anything to get ready. I’m pretty certain that I’m fine just how I am and I’m also pretty sure that you’re also fine just how you are, and that everything is gonna be fine for the both of us.”
A selfish pony who wanted—who demanded—attention, Pebble didn’t want this moment to end. She wanted her aunt all to herself, she wanted to be greedy, she wanted to indulge her selfishness, to wallow with it like a pig in a sty. But she also wanted her aunt to be happy, and so the two opposing forces began to wrestle with one another. Heaving a conflicted sigh, a sigh that was the distinct essence of everything that Pebble was and could only be summed up in such forceful exhalations, she arrived at the conclusion of what she had to do.
“Do you think Sumac and I could tag along with you, Twilight, and Seville?”
“Uh—”
“Not together, just along. So we can give each other supportive looks from across the room.”
Still holding her niece with one foreleg, Pinkie raised the other and began to rub her chin while thinking about Pebble’s ponderous proposal. When Pebble didn’t get an answer, she knew that she had to raise the stakes in order to get the compromise that she craved.
“If Sumac and I are left on our own, we’ll probably just make out a whole bunch and who knows what that might lead to. And you know how Sumac is—”
“Pebble, I know how you are and I hate to say it, but I trust Sumac more than you do on this issue. I still remember the hot springs and your cunning little plan.” With a stern expression, (for her, anyhow) Pinkie put her niece down, turned her around, and looked her in the eye. “I ended up blaming Sumac and so did Applejack and I still feel really bad about that.”
After listening to everything her aunt had to say, Pebble could feel a bad case of the sulks coming on. She was, after all, the Incredible Sulk, prone to fits of sulking out. All she had to do was become hormonal—that was her secret—and as a filly in the throes of perilous pony puberty, she was always hormonal. Muscles tensing, veins bulging beneath her dress, she could feel a fit of ennui coming on strong. In a sweaty fever of inspiration, Octavia had written music about Pebble’s little episodes: the Weltschmerz Waltz. It was, oddly enough, the perfect music to sulk to.
“You can tag along,” Pinkie said with a half-smile-half-smirk that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “But you have to keep a respectful distance. I don’t know how Twilight and Seville will feel about this. Deal?”
“Deal.” Reaching out, Pebble extended her hoof and offered it to her aunt.
With wary, narrowed eyes, Pinkie hoof-bumped her niece to seal the deal. Even though the two of them were so remarkably different, for a moment, they shared a startling similarity. Both were ponies on the verge of something else, both teetered on the very cusp of change, the precipice of profound alteration that would lead into a new phase of life.
Pebble was on the verge of transitioning into a young mare and Pinkie Pie—she had matured. No longer youthful, but neither was she old, Pinkie Pie had hit maturity with fine fettle. Though she did not realise it, she had turned out much like her idol, Mrs. Cake, a mare filled with vim, vigour, and a lust for life.
“So, later tonight, we’ll get together and check up on one another?” Pebble asked and the hopefulness in her eyes was noticeable.
“Sure thing, Pebble,” her aunt replied with a jaunty nod. “Now let’s go have ourselves a good time with those who love us just how we are…”
After is coming soon... and then we're done.
This was done more for my own benefit than anything else, and I wrote it on a lark. It was an idea that had been tumbling around for quite some time, and when I thought of a suitable name, I decided that I should write it. While I do hope that you enjoyed it, I mostly wrote this to help me recharge my own writing battery. 
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Pebble: I'm gonna go sulk while eating a pumpkin filled with ice cream.
Pumpkin Cake:*Nearby and heard everything while eating ice cream and has another bite at her lips* O_O
You continuously play my emotional strings like a banjo. You are already aware of this, but I figured I'd let the rest of the class know before I bring about the heat death of the universe.
Context is for chumps.Are you relapsing, kudzu?
I thought we put you on the patch.
ejoy i do
8507433
Relapsing?
Pinkie can't be too old. Late 30s or extremely early 40s at this point.
8507439
I see signs of alliteration abuse.
8507442
Nuh-uh. **Sniffs** I'm good.
I literally tried saying your short description and my tongue died
the mirror (or perhaps a)
extra 'to'
roll
a dark
auto tracking
auto upvote
auto read
auto enjoyed
auto commented
fully automatic pony pony pony
8507594
yeah, pretty much
*curious white fox reads, snickers and "d'aww"'s at the interaction, licks lips at thought of pumpkin sundae, floods out tails happily, and gives paw-print of approval*
Also, three ponies are Ascendancy insurgents seeking to undermine ponykind for some half-baked ideology of "equality"
I wonder if ponies have the equivalent to regular birth control pills. Pebble is somewhat determined to get herself laid and not shy about admitting it. At this point better safe than sorry I would assume to be the best course of action. Yeah it might just empower her to take greater effort in her endeavor but given that she is fairly cunning and very determined it should be assumed she is going to get away with it at some point.
I really love how Pebble has come so far in her relationship to her Aunt Pinkie, and they can share these special tender moments, that she can't really spend with any other adult <3
Man, Pinky's spiel got to me. I know that feel friend.
8508107
Contraception spells or alchemical concoctions or condoms are what's available
8508443
8508107
Earth ponies in particular can defeat standard birth control and even some alchemical options. The only effective means is to prevent sperm from reaching their target.
8508443
I know they have contraceptives of some sort and discussed them in a previous story. I am was assuming these were methods that had to be planned specifically to the event unlike something like a birth control pill that is just taken regularly. Just regular ingesting some alchemical concoction seems somehow risky.
8508447
What is the youngest age ponies can legally marry in this setting? Sumac and Pebble are basically married in their hearts already I don't see them waiting to make it official.
These kinds of stories, where a few characters just deal with life's problems together, are my favorite parts of the Weedverse. I'm glad I saved this for after work today, it helped a little.
8508447
Too much fertility!!!
8508951
The entire equine species is technically at risk right now. I wouldn't be surprised if every earth pony in the world was getting slowly more fertile and horny in response.
I realized this a few hours after reading the description that first day. Pinkie and Pebble are "tubby wubby pone waifus."