Rarity's not like the rest of her family. It's not that she doens't love them, it's just that they live different lives. But when things fall apart, is one mare enough to pull it all back together? Somepony's got to.
Rarity's spent her entire life glorifying glitz and glam. She owns a boutique, enjoys relative success, and is fairly popular. It's the polar opposite of the rest of her family. Of course regardless of that, she still loves them. Really, she does. Sure, sometimes they can be a little embarrassing, or do something stupid, but its nothing that can't be forgiven... Most of the time. After all, family is supposed to give love unconditionally. Even if somepony does something terrible. So when that's the case and Rarity's family starts falling apart, can she become the glue to piece things back together?
The morning was punctuated by two words. Ones he hoped wouldn’t haunt him the rest of his life. Seeing his belongings tossed out onto the street, hastily filled with possessions and levitated in the magenta grip of his wife's magic, quickly brought him to terms with exactly how much trouble he was in. His wife slammed the front door, its force shaking the doorframe, which showed exactly how angry she was. Worst of all, she definitely had every reason to be.
He thought back to last night.
Actually, ‘night’ wasn’t technically accurate. More like early morning, given that when he arrived home it was around four o’clock. Delirious, the effort to stay awake swayed him side to side as he walked down the lane. The taxi peeled off, hooves and wheels clattering over the cobblestone. Of course he’d been careful. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He made sure the driver dropped him a few blocks away. He wasn't stupid enough to get out in front of his own house: that was just asking for trouble. Besides, he figured the fresh air would be good for him.
The sound of victory was an empty wrapper crinkling in his breast pocket as he trotted along. It no longer held the condom he'd left the house with. In addition to the fun it had provided, it also found purchase for a piece of paper with a mare’s number. That night’s debauchery flared in his mind. A sweaty, plush ass brushing against his crotch, the moans of pleasure, the uninhibited bucking of a younger mare: it was good. It was worth it. He kept repeating that mantra, as if those feelings could allow him to justify it. The terrible thing he’d done. If she ever found out… Well, he would make sure she would never.
Unlocking the back door and sneaking through the kitchen, he evenly distributed his weight across the creaky wooden steps that lead up to the second floor. Each hoof-fall came lightly, as he eased his weight onto each step before placing a limb next to it. He even made sure to skip the especially noisy step about half way up, thinking how ironic it would be to be done in by the step he'd refused to fix for his wife earlier. Finally, he made it to the top. Spying the bedroom, he began to open the door, telekinesis rotating the handle delicately trying to make as little noise as possible. A second later, a sliver of light barreled toward him from the inside.
Light. A foreboding sign he was screwed.
There’s no way she could be awake at this hour.
But sure enough, opening the door the rest of the way revealed his wife, still awake. The fur near her eyes; desperately matted. Anxiety over where he was, what he was doing... Last weekend it was drinking with his buddies, the time before that he had met up with an old friend. This time he thought an emergency might do. He hadn’t used that yet. On his way home maybe he stopped to help a mare to the hospital or call an ambulance cause a stallion having a heart attack. The details weren’t important, so long as he could prolong this interrogation. Because if he could make it till sunrise routine would kick in. Breakfast. Lunch packing. Chores. Going to pick up that new drapery they'd ordered Thursday. As long as it was enough time for her to think it over and forgive him. Allow him to put on a face and tell her everything was okay.
But it wasn’t okay. Not this time. Or the other times either, it’s just that in the past they had a fight and then things would go back to normal. She would say things and he would remind her those were just some accusations and that she had no proof. Things would get loud and he'd drop a line like "let's not wake up the whole neighborhood." He stood in the entrance to their bedroom, assuming she'd say something. Some time passed before he realized there was no fight to come.
No argument, just unnerving silence. No anger, or tears either. Now he was far out of his comfort zone, as only heavy breathing and glaring persisted. The worst purgatory he could imagine, those accusing eyes, while he stood there, waiting for the insults, the petty accusations. How much he missed them now. He admitted silently there was some redemption to be found in getting chewed out by his wife. It felt like he was taking on some form of punishment. Like the berating lectures were penance for the next time he'd inevitably cheat again. In their absence, he would have taken any amount of punishment to help absolve the weight he felt from his sins. As long as he was acknowledged. Excuses wouldn’t work. It had gone beyond that now. All that was left was for him to beg.
“Please?”
The single word fell in the vacuum between them, trying to bridge the gap caused by this fresh cut in an old wound. But it never made it. Already a hoof extended outward, pointing back the way he came. Directing him to return to whatever it was he truly loved. Their eyes never met. She only tolerated him long enough for him to somberly shove some of his belongings toward him she'd packed into a suitcase. Shirts piled randomly on top of one another, a wrinkle in each as furrowed as her expression. Hastily she tossed it out and shoved him after it. Like trash. No goodbye, no hesitation of remorse.
The bedroom door slid shut. With nowhere else to go, he resigned to leave. Now a walk outside in the brisk morning didn’t seem to do much good. A clear mind only meant seeing the events of minutes ago over and over again rather than the pleasures of the previous night. A bitter morning after pill.
Mist blanketed the streets of Ponyville as he aimlessly trudged forward, teasing him by so easily obfuscating the world around him. If only he'd been as skilled in language as the nature of fog. Subconsciously he was thinking of what he could do, but knew there was really only one place he could go. It was selfish to harbor such an expectation, but she was the Element of Generosity. At any rate, it would only be a temporary solution.
- - -
The hours on the sign posted by the door read ten to eight but were ignored in favor of a harsh knocking. The flat of a hoof connected with the paneling causing a reverberating hollow banging throughout the open atrium that served as the interior of Carousel Boutique. At first: nothing. Then, a light switched on in one of the windows of the upstairs bedroom. Hopefully a pony shape was moving around up there. He banged again to assure her that it was not, in fact, a dream.
Mornings never really agreed with Rarity. More often than not she found there was nothing she’d rather do on a Sunday than laze about under the covers until either the afternoon sun shone so bright it forced her awake or she felt the need to indulge in brunch. As a socialite it was always of the utmost importance to ensure an adequate amount of beauty sleep. This week had been so busy, Rarity felt perhaps even ten or twelve hours wouldn't do the trick. Many hours of rush orders had caught up with her and were beginning to take their toll. And, as much as she appreciated parties, Rarity admitted that perhaps she'd overdone it a tad by attending that fashion premier Friday as well as the party last night... Loath as she was to admit, she was no longer at the peak of youthful brilliance. She doubted that even in her rowdier days she'd be able to handle back to back four o'clock bedtimes. Especially after what had happened last night. She rolled onto her side to checked time. Six o'clock. Perhaps it was a dream. Maybe Opal had just knocked over a chair downstairs. Or another party goer had made a worse decision than she had; having to endure a walk of shame.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Or maybe not. Fumbling with a hairbrush, Rarity made an attempt to lash her curls into their distinctive shape, a few loose ends still managing to elude her. It pained her to have to skip applying makeup, so she fussed briefly with powder and mascara until she was somewhat presentable while whoever it was continued pounding away on the door. Slightly louder each time they began their pattern of three knocks. As annoying as it was, the pony at the door was awfully persistent. And about to get an earful.
The banging started up again.
“Alright, I’m coming!” It wasn’t very ladylike, but her composure had lost itself somewhere between the fourth drink last night and the first yawns of this morning. Moving to the door Rarity slid back the deadbolt and then twisted open the latch. “So what in Tartarus is so important it couldn’t wait until…”
She broke off as the hinges peeled back to revealing a familiar sight. A mustachioed stallion stood opposite, his coat roughly the same hue as hers. Next to him a sat a tan travel bag bulging with from a haphazard packing job. Three footballs were emblazoned on his flank.
The two ponies sat at the kitchen table, light beginning to stream in through the window. Rarity poured-- and took a sip-- from her steaming hot coffee, enough to burn her from her stupor. The caffeine, she hoped, would get her the rest of the way there. Another mug of Americano floated its way over to her father thanks to some shaky morning levitation.
“Your mother and I are going through a rough patch.”
Rarity paused mid-sip. Oh, so it was going to be that conversation... She was going to need a lot more coffee.
She got up and began to brew more. Looking back Rarity noticed her dad, Magnum, had fallen silent, burying his head between his hooves. It was some relief. Giving Rarity an opportunity to collect herself before delving into whatever her parents were apparently going through.
She thought back to hours earlier, how her night had also ended in bitter disappointment. Not that Magnum could possibly know that, but the wounds were evident on both of them. Saturdays were her chance to be seen and heard about town. As small as Ponyville was, there were always little soirees to attend. Drinking, chatting, dancing, music... of course nothing like the Canterlot events she'd been to. Nevertheless they were comfortable affairs. In fact, they'd become mandatory. How else was a mare her age-- an adult in her own right-- living on her own without even a hint of a coltfriend going to be viewed. Yes she had Spike, who was quite the little gentleman, but that was where it ended: a friend, nothing more. Certainly too young to give Rarity the sort of companionship she'd been searching for, though as a lady she could never admit it.
When was the last time? She wondered to herself.
With boys it was the subtle things she picked up on first. Quick glances stallions would take in her direction, trying to be discreet, but signaling interest. The dumbfounded looks on ponies as she walked around town. Where had she gone wrong? She certainly hadn’t changed her routine. An extensive makeup and hair ordeal every morning, spa days with Fluttershy, hot horn waxes... Yet for weeks now she wasn't getting results. No slack jaw greeted her when she left for the market, detours onto once ‘undesirable’ routes yielded to no catcalls. Things she thought she wouldn't miss, but her ego did: sorely. And as weeks rolled into months and months coming up on a year; she was getting desperate. Had everypony become so accustomed to her? Was there nothing enticing about her anymore? It was foolish to think that when Pinkie and Applejack invited her to go to the Haymarket Festival at the town green things would turn around from one night. But how could she say no? It was a chance to gauge herself. Show ponies that Rarity was a diamond that sparkled brilliantly, even in a collection of other gems. Of course, she should have known better.
At first Rarity could lie to herself, writing off Pinkie as just being Pinkie. Stallions always flocked to the party pony since she was constantly busy being-- for lack of a better term-- an attention whore. At any Ponyville gathering Pinkie was usually the center of attention. And of course last night was no exception, as she danced with several stallions and shook her flank at every song. The real shock only set in after the announcer asked the guests to pair off for the square dance-- a Ponyville tradition. Plenty of eligible young stallions sauntered around the ring plucking up mares for the dance. Most were a little blue collar for Rarity's liking, but she found she wasn't complaining. A cute colt spotted were she and Applejack had made their way over to the edge of the dance. He nonchalantly trotted over and bowed to the pair, eliciting a giggle from each. Rarity stepped forward to greet the young gentleman and coyly offered her hoof.
It met the air and hung there, suspended by what must have been the self-same disbelief that overcame Rarity seconds later as she watched the stallion proposition Applejack. Applejack: the farm pony. The one who'd no more than two hours before was still picking apples for cider at the festival. Who hadn't even bothered taking a shower before showing up.
Applejack politely tried to decline making excuses for why the stallion should pair off with Rarity instead, but hearing her friend come to her defense made Rarity's feelings crumple even more. She almost left the party then and there, but decided to stay and make sure her friends had a good time. Putting on the fake smile she'd worn so many times before and pretending to enjoy the rest of the evening. After all she didn’t need her friends to worry about her. Or even worse, pity her.
Still, the party couldn’t last forever and all too soon she was walking home. Alone. Again. Each weekend the trip felt longer and longer: opening the heavy door of the boutique to an empty room, dabbing off the mascara she maintained so rigorously, folding the covers over her head, and finally letting out a single sob before passing out. It was so routine, just like her excuses. She was simply playing hard to get, right? There really are no true gentlecolts anymore... But so much failure had battered her ego to the point where it prompted the question: was it her?
A long prolonged sip from her father snapped Rarity out of her pity party and back to the present. She looked over at Magnum, his illustrious white coat seemed to have dulled in the wake of the events unfolding. Fathers always seemed to communicate so much without ever having to say a word. The two simply stood silently in the kitchen, as if listening to each other's thoughts. Rarity indulged another sip of coffee. It was good. Having somepony here. Somepony she knew cared about her more than they did themselves. It made her life feel less empty. She was morbidly happy her father offered his own problems as a distraction to her own--- Almost as good as a bubble bath and a few aromatic candles.
"So..."
The words came back at her. She regretted them and closed her mouth, stopping it from hanging on that last syllable. Maybe it was best to keep everything bottled up in the limbo of silence between them. They were taking such a large step in their relationship, she wasn't sure if having this conversation was something they could come back from.
Rarity suspected a strained relationship over the last few months. She'd been taking care of Sweetie Belle more often. Rarity knew they fought on occasion, that was something that all couples did, but was it more recent as of late? She wondered what her mother would have to say about all of this. How her mother was probably the one to instigate all of this. The fact that Peal probably took Magnum's love for granted. Rarity decided she could afford to give her father the benefit of the doubt.But, in order to do that, she had to break her precious silence. Clearing her throat, she offered what support she could.
“You can stay here as long as you’d like. Really, it’s no imposition.” Magnum nodded, accepting her generosity even if he knew she lied about the situation not being an issue for her.
Magnum gripped his coffee tightly in his hooves allowing the last thing he had control over in his life burn him. Hopefully a degree worse than he'd gotten off this morning because maybe then he could stop thinking about it. Growing up, Rarity always envisioned her parents as this infallible force. Experience dictated they always knew best, regardless of logic. By now that she was an adult, he could see she knew better. He'd shifted from the bedrock their family was built on to an emotional refugee. Washed up on his daughter's doorstep wit no plan and nowhere to go.
Unfortunately, this was exactly why he wasn't about to talk about the details. And why he was so surprised by what happened next. Hooves slung around the back of his neck and he found himself pressed forward into his daughter's chest, the soft fur there still carrying the scent of the night before on it. Gripping tighter, he could feel her nuzzle his neck, and for a moment was sure that he caught a tear falling from her face. For as much of a dork or uncool or unstylish as he'd been during her upbringing, he was glad that there was still some foundation of the family they used to be.
“I love you dad.”
At least sompony did.
- - -
"Honey," Cup Cake lovingly called to the upstairs of Sugarcube Corner, "do you know where my one ribbon is?"
Carrot Cake turned over in his bed. It was Sunday. The bakery wasn't going to be open till noon. He intended to take advantage of every minute of that reprieve.
"Did you check under the crib in the twins room?" There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask, including 'which ribbon,' but decided that his response was probably the quickest way to get back to what he was doing. He was wrong.
"No, not that one. That's the one I gave to Pumpkin Cake to play with. I'm talking about the one I had the other day. You know, the nice one I wear to go out."
"The yellow one?" Carrot Cake hoofed around on the ground for his slippers. They weren't there. A ribbon and now slippers. The lost-but-not-found list grew longer.
"Red," she hollered back up to him.
---
Time seemed to stop for a few hours after that. Magnum lay on the guest bed, contemplating his situation, while Rarity started the day. There was no plan. No big romantic gesture to surely win Pearl back. Not that he deserved to. He’d betrayed her love for a one night stand. Lying there he wracked his brain for an excuse, something that would explain his sudden lapse in mental faculties, but nothing came. Well, nothing aside from the carnality that provoked him in the first place.
Magnum’s eyes drooped, sleep inviting after hours of stress and worry. He folded the sheets over his body and nuzzled the pillow trying to get comfortable. It was immediately soothing. At first he couldn’t quite figure out why. Sure the sheets were lavishly threaded and the comforter provided a warm embrace, but there was something more. Then he realized it: the smell. It smelled exactly like her. He buried his nose deep into the sheets. Although clean, he could make out that they were daintily infused with Rarity’s musk. Wanting a more pungent whiff, Magnum sat on his haunches and lowered his face to the spot Rarity had been sitting moments before, noticing maybe it was even a little damp. His snout bisected the pleats, drawing a breath. Familiarity washed over him. Rarity and Pearl produced wonderfully similar scents. A tart palate of something sour combined with earthy dieters, like the smell of a garden after a spring rain: deep and soil-y. Indecently he found his hips grinding against the bed, member erecting as blood flooded to his loins, all thanks to the resistance of the mattress. For a moment he gave in to pure bestiality and licked the spot, vividly imagining it tasted of a marehood that wasn’t his wife’s. And picturing his phallus sheathed between ass cheeks that wasn’t hers either.
No. A simple mental command reined him in. What was he doing? The image of him violating that behind tattooed with perfect blue diamond shaped cutie mark disappeared. Apparently he did need help. Thoughts like that couldn’t be healthy for sexually active stallion. Part of him said it didn’t matter. A vagina served one purpose biologically: to procreate. Who cared if it belonged to his wife or his daughter so long as there was consent? Only an arbitrary moral code dictated by pony society said otherwise.
Magnum needed to get out of the house. Those were dangerous thoughts and he wanted to keep them that way. He figured maybe going to talk to an old friend would help. After all, he had a confession he was dreading to make and the longer he waited, the worse off he would be.
“I’m going out for a while,” he casually mentioned to Rarity as he passed her array of sewing machines, each set on hemming a different dress.
Rarity didn’t have time to respond before he was already out the door.
- - -
Outside, the sun and clear sky sat diametrically opposed to Magnum’s present predicament. Ponies around him were content to wander the streets, no clear direction to their day, and with apparently nothing to worry about. It made him jealous. How unfair of Ponyville to tempt him like that. He passed a vendor selling some carrots and noted a few attractive looking mares, one with nice orange locks and a yellow coat, another with a toothpaste patterned mane, hanging around chatting it up. Not a day before he would have been content to cut whatever business he was on to hang out with the single ladies. Introduce himself, mention a few things off hoof like the planning he had done this season, ask if they wanted to get a smoothie or a bite to eat. They looked like the gardening type and he was good at identifying easy targets. He shook his head. It worried him that the obvious cause to this trouble still made such an attractive proposition. He put his head down, reluctant to ogle any other mares. Luckily, he was able to resist all the way to his destination: Sugarcube Corner.
Ding-ling, the tiny bell on the door to the bakery tingled, welcoming him in along with a bevy of delicious flavors wafting through the air.
“Hiya Mister Belle,” the pink pony on the other side of the counter said. “What can I do you for?”
The curls of her mane bounced ponderously, since she was unable to keep still waiting for Magnum’s response. “Sorry Pinkie. Not here for sweets today. Just came to see Carrot.”
“Ohhh, that’s too bad. Something tasty always helps me feel better,” she sighed, hinting at his depression. “How’s about I just give you a chocolaty muffin while you wait? It’ll be my treat!” She sang out the last notes as if to imply the muffin were a holy relic. Once that possessed such power it would indeed turn his frown upside down.
Magnum considered, and then nodded. “Sure Pinkie, that sounds great.”
She handed over the delectable and then went skipping into the back to search for Mr. Cake. After a small commotion, the banging of pots and pans, a yellow and orange stallion appeared.
“Why Magnum, what brings you out for visit today? It’s good to see you.”
Magnum hoof-bumped his old college buddy. “Likewise,” he said.
“Though I have to admit,” Carrot said, “It’s a little worrying. Cup just went to go get your wife for their girl’s day out. I figured you probably took Sweetie Belle to go fishing. Is everything alright?”
“No,” Magnum assured to his friend’s fading smile, “No it’s not.”
“Hey mom?” Sweetie Belle called through the house, “Have you seen dad around?”
Pearl still hadn’t moved off the bed. Content to gaze up at the ceiling, she fixated on its dullish green hue. It was a dream. It had to be. Sure a retired hoofball player was going to need time to adjust to a slower pace, but was it her fault? Had she not given Magnum enough attention? Or had this been going on all along?
She never really thought about what it would be like to leave her husband, but now it was happening. Somehow she felt ugly and unwanted, as if the years they had spent together meant nothing. Resentment set in. She hoped he was feeling the same.
“Dad promised he was going to take us fishing,” continued Sweetie Belle, referring to her and her fellow crusaders.
Dad promised a lot of things, Sweetie Belle, Pearl thought, only a matter of time until she would have to explain. She imagined the inevitable “where’s daddy?” as they sat down to spaghetti tonight, now with two empty chairs at the kitchen table. How would she explain Magnum wasn’t coming back?
“Just go and play outside, Sweetie,” Pearl deadpanned. For a few hours at least she could delay the inevitable. The door slammed shut as the little filly ran off, oblivious, to play with her friends. It made Pearl wonder how Rarity would react to the news, though she hoped the boutique would keep her busy enough for the not to find out right away. The laughter of Sweetie Belle and her friends playing grew fainter and fainter; Pearl listening in to make sure everything was fine. However, she was interrupted by another sound.
Clack, clack, clack.
It was the sound of hoof on pane, agitating the window.
“Heelllloooo? Pearl? Pearl, are you in there?”
That’s right, it was self-proclaimed ‘girl’s day.’ Ironic that it came at a time when she needed it the most, but wanted it the least.
“Just a minute,” the ex-wife sighed.
Properly motivated, the salmon unicorn made her way to the door, preparing herself for Mrs. Cake’s cheery demeanor. She took a few deep breaths before opening it. On the other side the stood a pudgy turquoise mare, laden with sweet smelling saddle bags and other instruments she planned on using to relax. A smile broke out, but it was quickly doused when she saw her friend’s troubled look.
“Oh dear, are you alright, Pearl?” The blue baker wondered as she dropped the bag of treats in her mouth. “Is something the matter?”
“It’s- it’s,” she couldn’t get the words out before she turned into a blubbering mess.\
Be strong, she demanded.
Yesterday it had been so easy to stay composed. She knew she couldn’t allow Magnum to see how much he had hurt her. That would give him all the power. It was better to be indifferent. Show him life would continue the same as it always had. Then at least she retained some dignity. But now there was no reason to hold back, so emotions gave way in a torrent of tears.
“Whoa, whoa, hold up there,” Mrs. Cake cooed as she escorted her distressed friend inside. “Whatever this is must be really bad to get you so upset.” She took a chocolate chip cookie from her hamper and handed it to Pearl. “Here, chew on this and try to tell me what happened.”
“It’s Magnum. He ch-che-chea.” At the word ‘cheated’ Pearl got too choked up again, sniffling uncontrollably. If her ears heard her say those words, then it would become truth. She would be obligated to move on, to take back control in her life. Not do what she wanted, which was to curl up into a ball. Though the cookie did seem to help.
Cup Cake patted her on the back reassuringly, “Well, I’m so sorry to hear that Pearl. I had no idea. That’s just terrible news,” it was all the typical lines, but Pearl wasn’t sad to hear them. The bulging baker pony continued to massage the troubled unicorn. The gesture was satisfactory and Pearl knew she was lucky to have a friend that would even go through the motions for her.
At Mrs. Cake’s prompting, Pearl finished the cookie. With each chocolate chip Cup Cake suggested something new to be optimistic about. Magnum was gone, but Pearl still had the rest of her family. Also, she wasn’t that old. She could get back out there and find another stallion. Magnum was crazy for letting go of such a catch. Flattery always helped Pearl smile. A trait her and her daughter shared.
After the sobs died down, Cup Cake offered to make a pot of tea to go along with their desserts. A pick-me-up to power though the rest of the day. “Stuff like this always happens to the good ones, doesn’t it?” She spouted rhetorically, “Always.”
- - -
“Ah Magnum, you broke the number one rule, didn’t you? You let her catch you.”
The two colts chatted away, seated at one of the round coffee tables in Sugarcube Corner. Luckily it was slow, being a Sunday, and the store was cleared out. It would only be open for a few more hours anyway. The Cakes definitely appreciated the idea of a lazy Sunday, evidenced by Mrs. Cake’s carefree departure earlier. Carrot Cake munched on a croissant while Magnum divulged his entire ordeal. Carrot seemed sympathetic, but also practical. Once Magnum finished telling the story, the baker’s responses sounded like he was giving a lecture rather than comforting a friend.
“If you’re going to cheat, don’t do anything that suspicious, you amateur.” Yes, definitely lecturing. “Staying out till five o’clock in the morning... no wonder she caught you.” He shook his head derisively.
“What are you talking about?” Magnum shot back, “This isn’t about the fact that I got caught, it’s that I convinced myself cheating was alright in the first place.”
Carrot Cake laughed heartily and then sighed, as though Magnum were a foal trying to offer up a ill-conceived interpretation of sex to an adult. “But it is about you getting caught. Would you have ever even considered stopping otherwise?”
Magnum remained silent; worried he might not like the answer if he was honest.
Mr. Cake happily filled in the blank for him, “No, of course you wouldn’t have. Which is why it’s inevitable that you’re going to continue,” He took a decisive chomp of pastry, allowing the crumbs to fall where they may. Magnum left his muffin virtually untouched save a polite nibble on the side. He wasn’t hungry. “Trust me, once you cheat, the temptation is always going to be there. And if you don’t have a plan, it’s just going to get worse, and worse, and worse, until…” he drew closer to Magnum with each word, putting his hooves up on the table before slamming them down to emphasize his point, “BAM! You get caught cheating again.” At this, Carrot broke out in another fit of laughter.
As much as Magnum hated to admit it, what his friend said did make sense. Even on the way over here his libido flared wildly, every mare a potential landmine to his marriage. Why not take some precautions? He still loved Pearl, but Ponyville was a buffet: and he wanted more than one helping. Could he really trust himself to be monogamous after he’d already screwed it up once?
“Just take it from me,” Mr. Cake continued, “If you’re going to have a little something on the side, it’s best to be in control and have some rules.” The buttery croissant now reduced to flaky ashes strewn across the wood lacquer of the table.
For the first time Magnum found his voice, even if to only repeat the words he had heard, “Rules…?”
“Yes, of course. Like for starters, how about actually doing some fucking when your wife won’t notice?” The baker chuckled at his crass humor, turning his attention over to the kitchen, “Oh Pinkiiieee Piiieee!”
The assistant heeded his call, appearing in the doorway. A seductive tilt accented her hips, the perfect angle to make her ass jut out from her backside: inclined and inviting. She must have been eavesdropping.The pink pony touched her hoof to her mouth and sucked it for a moment, encasing it in a glossy varnish. Then she sat down in the doorway, perky bottom pushing out to cushion her impressive flank, as she traced the appendage to her haunches. The saliva left a matted trail on her coat, as if a pony had taken the first lick of this specially prepared dessert.
“Your pie’s done,” she called in a surprisingly seductive voice. Magnum never considered the sexual appeal of any of his daughter’s best friends, but could see Carrot making his point with every inch of Pinkie’s body. Working at the bakery had served the mare well, fattening her in only the right places. A little belly protruded from underneath her fur, unable to hide it, or her plump breasts. The best part was it really suited her. That pear shape with its wide accommodating hips was perfect for bucking into all night long. Her tail jutted out from underneath her rump accentuating her privates with its fluffy form. Above it, her sticky marehood leaked uncontrollably, its syrup soaking her nethers and the hair around it indiscriminately.
“We’re animals at heart,” Carrot said, apparently not done with his speech. “We’ve got natural instincts to breed.” He got up from the table and causally walked over to flip the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’ “So what I suggest you do,” he continued, moving behind the register and over to the waiting Pinkie. She looked up at her master: begging for it. “Is find yourself a nice, young thing-” Pinkie licked his member a few times, working to a lather to get some nice lubrication. Already it had grown to an impressive size, ready for the impending main event. Magnum wondered if his friend had been secretly sporting under the table the whole time they were talking. Pinkie got up from her seated position and turned her back to her employer, reaching behind with one hoof to present her quivering, salivating pussy, “-and put it in her ass.”
The sound of Carrot’s cock sheathing into Pinkie’s behind sent a shiver down Magnum’s spine. That distinctive wet squelch so vivid: especially after last night. Pinkie’s cootch depressed like a whoopee-cushion, the air trapped there rammed out by the impressive girth of Carrot Cake. The other orifices of Pinkie also relaxed, as she let out a sigh, a snort, and a puff of flatulence all at once.
“See?” Carrot beckoned, showing an impressive display of bestial fortitude by bringing himself to better alignment with his mistress and conversing with Magnum at the same time. “You have to remain in control of these situations or else they’re going to end up controlling you.” Without missing a beat he pumped himself in and out of Pinkie, eliciting another squeal of delight as well as granting her a bout of the hiccups, as she was unable to catch her breath from the surprise intrusion.
“Rule number one: plan sex ahead of time.”
Carrot Cake’s scrotum slapped Pinkie’s taint as he humped her backside again. Drawing his hooves near her shoulders; mounting her.
“Rule number two: fuck sompony you trust.”
His choice of Pinkie was rather infallible in that regard. The party pony’s tits jostled about as the speed of Carrots thrusts increased. She bobbled her head to and imaginary beat, biting her lip and scrunching up her face as she fought back against him. He clamored atop her, getting grip on the situation, and using friction to mediate his movements. Her pussy melted, buttery pre-cum dripping down his shaft. Its walls convulsed, inviting his penis to party crash her womb. Carrot Cake leaned more of his weight into her and bucked harder building for climax.
“Rule number three: do everything your wife says, and she’ll never suspect a thing.”
With the last line he pulled back and then came up hard. Driving into Pinkie’s cooter as deep as she would allow, the base of his cock and balls formed a seal over her slit. The organ inside of her mounted pressure until it finally relaxed spraying ejaculate all over her insides. As the filling erupted into the mare’s winking snatch, she gladly accepted the full load. Her tail whipped, beating against her hip in approval. She threw he head forward and erected her neck to align with her body. Letting her feel every quake of ecstasy as her marehood fulfilled its promise to nature. After a few minutes of the ponies spasm-ing in orgasmic release, Carrot Cake dismounted his claim. Pinkie’s pussy uncorked and allowed a generous helping of seminal fluid to grease the parlor floor.
Realizing he failed to address his beleaguered friend for at least a solid five minutes, Carrot picked up where he left off. “It works out pretty well if you know what you’re doing.”
Flaccid cock drooping beneath him, Mr. Cake delivered a second slap to his worker’s ass. She bucked back hard against the pain, but was receptive, pulling her hindquarters away from the penis and replacing them with her head. A single hoof pointing to his crotch directed her attention.
“Clean,” he commanded.
Pinkie brought her loving lips up to his phallus and swallowed the whole thing at once. She jerked her snout around the sheath, milking it for any last remnants of its heady flavor. Stopping once, a residual hiccup caused her to choke. That mistake was met with another slap to her flank, the repeat scolding turning her pinkish hue a darker red in that one spot. Carrot took the opportunity to surge forward, burying his phallus deep in the mare’s mouth and taking her nose to its hilt.
“That should cure your hiccups.”
It was all rather surreal. If this were some sort of stage performance the decent thing to do would have been to clap, but it was a spontaneous sexual event in a bakery. Magnum felt that Carrot probably went a little too far just to prove his point. Still, the baker had made it all the same. As the activity brought Magnum’s own sex bear, now throbbing and erect underneath him. A constant dysfunction of his status as a male.
“I should go,” Magnum concluded, unsure how to take the message he just received.
“Remember what I said,” Carrot Cake shouted after him as the bell to Sugarcube Corner signaled his exit, “Rules and control. Without them you’re doomed to repeat the same mistake.”
Magnum only nodded and trotted out into the remaining afternoon sun. He would have confessed, but there was never a good time to bring it up. He didn't feel too ashamed after witnessing the assault on Pinkie, as it seemed the Cakes had their own marital issues, but it was the reason he went to Sugarcube Corner in the first place: to let his best friend know who Magnum cheated on his wife with.
“Don’t get mad, get even. Trust me. You'll feel a lot better.”
Pearl swirled her tea around with a spoon, tapping the tarnished silver to free a few drops from its bevel. Revenge: not always the best policy, but it did seem like it would make her feel better. The tea tasted bitter. Pearl levitated three more blocks of sugar into her cup, dropping them one at a time. She leaned back onto the couch, sipping away. The parlor being the perfect room for a little gossip.
Mrs. Cake continued her musings. “It’s what I do after Carrot cheats on me.”
“He cheated on you?” Pearl parroted. Mere coincidence a close friend would be victimized the same way she had?
Cup Cake had to chuckle, “Of course he does dear. Don’t think after three weeks without sex I wouldn’t be suspicious. I'm not stupid, he’s a stallion after all.” Mrs. Cake decided to reach into the basket for another cookie, “You know at first I thought that it was me,” she bit down, allowing the edge of the confection to tumble into her mouth, “but then I caught him banging Chocolate Chip. Speaking of, did you know we had another assistant before we hired Pinkie?” she seamlessly filled in the gaps to her story.
Pearl raised an eyebrow at the revelation, sputtering and spilling a little tea on the rug, thanks in part to the distraction. Mrs. Cake waved it off, dismissing the importance of filling in this 'Chocolate Chip's' backstory.
“Anyways, she was just a cute little thing, and the first time I caught them in the kitchen, I was furious. I thought- how could he do this to me? I’m his loving wife, don’t I satisfy him anymore? But I didn’t let on that I knew. After all, maybe it was my fault. I had been packing on the pounds recently. So I convinced myself that I could win back his affection. Diet and exercise followed, I even tried being more adventurous in bed,” the mare rolled her eyes and motioned toward her plot-hole.
She then scarfed down the last bit of cookie, quickly reaching for another. As she leaned forward, the pronounced blue paunch at her waist impeded her progress. Clear evidence dieting and exercise had not produced the desired results. The chair creaked under the strain.
“The second time it happened, we fired her. But at that point I knew I was just being naive. It would happen again. The temptation was there. Sure enough, weeks later we hired Pinkie. I suspected what it was really for... More than just eye candy.”
Divulging her tragedy made Mrs. Cake smile. She could see Pearl going through the same stages of grief. When the blue baker first arrived denial pervaded. But gradually it was replaced with doubt and soon, she hoped, acceptance. Tea continued to drain out of her host’s cup. Mrs. Cake eagerly refilled it and offered another cookie. Eating was some small comfort in these types of situations. At least it always made Cup Cake feel better. The baker was glad she could be here in her friend’s time of need. She could guide Pearl. Help her avoid making similar mistakes. Maybe even strengthen their bonds over their mutual misery? The baker kept talking, wanting to get to the first step in what she dubbed 'the recovery scenario.'
“There’s only one cure for a situation like that. And you know what? I assure you a dick never felt so good. Mindlessly getting pounded, being the focus of somepony’s lust as they consummate their fantasies. It makes you feel powerful, beautiful, and most importantly: desirable.”
Now Mrs. Cake was salivating over more than the cookie. Liking her lips in hunger, but for what, Pearl was unsure. The proposition was tempting. Arousal burned into the cushion beneath the unicorn housewife's bottom. She hoped it wasn’t leaving a mark.
Without giving Pearl too much time to mull it over, Mrs. Cake offered a suggestion, “Maybe I can help you with your own problem? Y’know there are certain places a mare can get serviced.”
All the appeal of make-up sex without the hassle. And Cup Cake was right: there were plenty of eligible stallions around. Pearl imagined the willingness of a fresh colt at her backside. A sniff of her tea's bitter aroma produced a picture: the excitement of taking in his scent, allowing hers to overpower him as well. The two strangers would enjoy the heat of each others arousal for the first time. Licks would furiously batter her labia, spreading her secretions around her inner thighs. Pearl would wrap her lips gingerly around his shaft and greedily start sucking for her meal.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Cup Cake suggested, popping the last of the chocolate-chip treats in her mouth and rising to go to the door.
Pearl moved off the couch to follow. Noticing, as she left, it was stained.
- - -
Rarity sat, orders piled on the table in front of her. It was impossible to focus. All day hours trickled by one at a time, and what had she done? About ten stitches and a stencil outline of the latest fashion? That wasn’t going to cut it for a day’s work. Thread and spool dropped to the counter as once more she looked to the door of the boutique. Since it was Sunday, the shop was closed, so she wasn’t expecting any customers. But still, she was waiting for somepony.
“Oh, I hope he didn’t think he was being too much of a burden,” she said out loud. Rarity wanted her dad to be okay with it; staying over. And it really touched Rarity that of all ponies, her dad came to her in his time of need. Her stomach danced at the thought.
Needed.
Of the best perks of being generous brought the best was having somepony rely on you. Maybe it was a motherly instinct, but the impact a single pony could have on another’s life was certainly intoxicating.
Rarity; the reliable one, the one you can count on... all things she’d gotten used to hearing. Also, things she loved hearing.
Though she couldn’t help but wonder if after all these years of give, give, give, she was the one being taken advantage of. Coming home every night to the loneliness of an empty house was a reminder of one thing: whatever she was doing hadn’t worked.
“Rarity, get a hold of yourself,” she commanded with stern disapproval. Ironic that the sound of voice, even her own, could calm her better than willpower alone. Simulating the reality of another pony to console her; it was sad how willingly she wanted to be duped.
But one pony going through a rough patch was enough. They didn’t need two. She had to be strong and help her father, possibly uncovering the cause of this separation in the first place.
That's why initially, Rarity considered visiting her mother to get the other side of the story and to see how she was doing. However the image of her sobbing mother convinced her a visit might make things worse. Besides if her dad found out he might not feel Rarity being impartial, and then he would never open up to her. That was the hardest part: getting her dad to talk about it. She might be able to find a hint if she looked through her father’s things...
“Now Rarity,” she reminded herself, “it wouldn’t be prudent to invade another pony’s privacy, even if they are family. And even if you do have their best interests at heart.”
But lack of a better plan and curiosity got the better of her. After all, a casual perusal of her father’s belongings could hardly hurt, right? Maybe she would even find something that could make the subject more approachable.
“Well, he could probably use a change of sheets,” she finally convinced herself.
Rarity crept into the guest bedroom, silently making her way over to the discarded duffel bag on the floor. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she unlatched the lid and peered into the disheveled mess of clothes. It was confirmation that he definitely needed her. What pony couldn’t do their own laundry for Celestia’s sake! Wearing any of this stuff ‘as is’ would be an embarrassment, especially leaving from a shop such as her own.
Taking out the clothes and folding them one by one with her magic, she hummed a little tune, soothing to do something so habitually. Untold hours dressmaking afforded Rarity the practice to master folding any fabric. Passing over another Hoofwaiian shirt made her gag. She could tidy her father’s clothes, but that wouldn’t change his fashion sense. She wondered for how long he had been dressing like that. Ever since she was a foal, Rarity remembered the brilliant pastels. It would be tacky to say his fashions pushed her to pursue her current career, but it wasn’t entirely out of the question either. Magnum needed a change of pace. Getting a dress shirt for him to wear would have to be added to the list.
After wading past the first couple of layers, she started feeling around, pushing aside any cloth to search for clues. Eventually, her hoof contacted something plastic-y.
“Oh, ick!” Rarity wretched when she realized what the object was. She stuck out her tongue and threw the tiny package across the room. The condom fell to the bed. Rarity stared at the damning object.
It wasn’t like it had been used. It very well could have been a remnant of another time; perhaps with every intention of being used on her mother. But it was rather hard to believe that lie in lieu of recent events. Another piece of evidence further incriminated her father, as a scrunched paper bearing a smudged telephone number unfolded in Rarity’s magic. Unable to decipher the numbers thanks to a smudge, Rarity offered her father a reprieve. It could have been something mundane like a business contact. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Yeah, there was no way her father was pig-headed enough to keep his mistress’s contact information with him after getting kicked out of the house. Rarity continued her search. Her hoof hit the bottom of the suitcase before she contacted another foreign object.
It was a picture from a while ago, and it showed Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and their parents enjoying each other’s company. It had certainly been a long time since Rarity enjoyed traditional ‘family’ activities, even though they all lived in Ponyville. Either too busy or too embarrassed she wasn’t sure, but an excuse always seemed to find a way to dissociate her from the rest of her family. Somehow the presence of the memento was heartening. No matter what Magnum had done, he still loved his family. How could her mother not appreciate that? Somepony who was so ready and willing to give his love unconditionally. The father she knew was goofy and reckless at times sure, but was he really capable of hurting Opal enough that this drastic action was warranted? Why if Magnum was her husband…
Her husband.
Rarity paused. Wow, she was fantasizing about… her own father? Sure he was handsome: virile enough to display the gifts of his youth still with impeccable muscle structure and a lithe physique, as well as kind: always open to listen to other pony’s problems, but for Celestia’s sake it was her father!
Rarity closed the trunk and gathered the sheets from the bed, balling them together in a frustrated lump. Again she saw the condom as it slipped out from the sheets. Naturally she wondered how that part of her father compared. Though she consciously told herself to stop she could feel blood flood into her nethers, contractions starting to excite her. Her dream stallion. The complete package. One that had all of the traits she sought in a mate. From good personality to great physicality. The image burned in her mind: getting taken right there fast and hard. A pulsating phallus positioned at her beckoning entrance. She breathed deeply, making a lewd noise halfway between a whinny and a grunt as she noticed the presence of masculine aroma wafting off the sheets.
Rarity hopped up onto the bed and dove into the pile of laundry. Musk off her father had saturated the threads, bringing their folds to her snout to inhale. It smelled like sex: its deep, heady, odor. Rarity had always been a detail oriented individual, and the scent she was getting helped focus her imagination. Yes, a wide flare that jut forward. Flat so that its girth could stretch her sex to an oh-so-desirable width. Then her winking crotch would invite him deeper, until he hilted inside her. Rarity flicked her teats with a little magic. Getting them to sway back and forth at the thrusts of an imaginary lover.
But she couldn’t allow him to have all the fun. Again folding the sheets around her muzzle, she now pretended to bury her face into a stallion’s crotch, flicking her tongue in and out, attempting to taste him. Her hindquarters drove into the bed, slapping unsatisfyingly against a flat surface where a muzzle should have been. Disappointed that she had to exert extra effort to keep up the illusion she reached to her behind, making an attempt to slap futilely at her lust. All she accomplished was a dampening of her marehood, spreading her labia and slathering it in her juices. Of course the clumsy appendage was too big to enter any further than the periphery of her sex. The continual circling escalated her excitement, but could only take her so far.
The mussed fur at her crotch strew off in wildly different directions. Desperation rising, it was the first time Rarity couldn’t care less how she looked, as she maneuvered to the side of the bed and began to grind its angle against her slit. Its rigid edge perfectly parted her labia, irritating the area to a new degree of arousal. She cried out at the new sensation releasing the desires of her subconscious, thrusting and licking at the bed: her new mate.
“Daddy!”
“Yes, sweetie?”
Everything snapped all at once. Color drained from Rarity’s face, her consciousness quickly recovering from the lucid dream. How had she not heard her father come home? Hastily, she tumbled from the mattress, trailing a few sticky strands of mare pre from the bed to her behind, and levitated the sullied sheets in her magic. Desperate times called from desperate measures as she daintily wiped her excitement away, cringing that she was treating her luxurious linens like common bath tissue. The creamy residue pooling on the mattress also met a quick scrubbing, as Rarity drove the sheets across it trying her best to remove the stain. An impossible task, she did her best, giving it a quick sniff to check her own pheromones. Sure enough the smell of her lust was overpowering, as though the bed were now some sort of breeding ground. Unable to think of any other solutions, Rarity overturned a bottle of her father’s favorite cologne as she heard hoof steps echo in the foyer.
That will have to do for now. Rarity told herself, promising she would return to conduct a proper cleanup when she had the time.
“Where you calling me?” Magnum pushed into the room moments after Rarity managed to bury her shame deep in the ball of fabrics. The folding she had done earlier ruined due to her adding his clothes into the mix for additional cover.
“No, sorry,” Rarity replied, “I was simply, um… frustrated. Yes, yes, you know, a long day of work and all.” A large smile promised her father she wasn’t doing anything conspicuous. “I figured you could probably use a change of sheets and I figured while I was at it I’d start a load of laundry as well.”
“Well thank you, that’s very generous,” Magnum assured. “Can I get those for you? Wouldn’t be polite if I let you do all the work.”
“Oh it’s no trouble,” Rarity countered. “I’d like you to be as comfortable as possible. Let me just throw these things downstairs and I’ll get dinner ready.”
Magnum had to admit, he was lucky to have raised such a beautiful and considerate daughter. Maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up after all.
“That sounds really nice,” he conceded.
Rarity nodded and gave a brief “mmhmm” of acknowledgement before descending to the first floor. Throwing the pile of laundry down she let out a deep breath, barely able to contain her anxiety at the awkward situation she had just avoided. A shower was advisable, as walking around in her un-freshened state would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention.
Regardless, tonight was going to be interesting. The first single stallion staying the night in months and here she was acting like an animal.
He deserved better. Better than her mother, for sure. He deserved her.
