Ten Gallons a Day Keeps the Brat at Bay
Shining preferred to work out by himself.
He couldn't say why. He was nothing if not a social pony. And yet, if he had the choice, he'd much sooner exercise in private than in a gym or alongside his fellow guards.
Probably it was that it gave him time to think. Nopony asked after him or demanded instruction. He could relax and reflect without interruption.
'Ba-ding!'
Well, mostly without interruption.
Sighing, he turned to the nearby bench. Laid out upon it was a water bottle, towels, and the current object of attention - his phone, screen lit up with a text message.
He set down his weights, wiped sweat from his mane, and pulled it over.
'From Flurry Heart Daughter: Where's mom?'
He dropped the device from his magic to his palm. The latest models, he heard, could interface with magical input, but he kept forgetting to buy one.
'I don't know,' he answered.
Expecting another response, he kept the phone in his magic and resumed doing bicep curls. After several unbroken sets without a text back he was ready to put it away when it pinged again.
'Can you look for her? I'm thirsty.'
This time, he dropped the weights and scowled. It may have been bad form, but he needed some way of expressing his irritation.
Shining didn't understand it. He and Cadance had, to their knowledge, ben excellent parents. Yes, one or the other might have doted or spoiled their daughter every now and then, but that shouldn't have been enough to make Flurry into the imperious, demanding brat she'd become.
'Look in the fridge,' he sent. 'I'm busy right now.'
Hoping that would be the end of things, he placed the phone where it had been. In a stroke of rare fortune it was, and he received no further interruptions for the next hour.
By the end, he was panting, sheened from horn to hoof in sweat. His blue hair plastered itself against his shiny wet fur, and made his hard-earned, daily-maintained physique ripple with vigor. Some ponies may have called it vain, but immediately after a workout, he liked to admire himself in the mirror.
To him, it was less about ego or pride than it was a reminder. As the Crystal Prince and Captain of the Royal Guard, his duty was to serve and protect the citizens of Equestria. He couldn't do that if he let himself go. Being well into his forties was not an excuse.
-Cadance certainly appreciated the effort in bed.
A quick, well-placed spell left the equipment sparkly clean. He grabbed his things, teleported to the bedroom, and stripped. Wearing only boxer briefs and nylon shorts hastened the process, and soon he was in the shower.
Once out, he toweled himself clean and checked the phone. Nothing from Flurry still. She must have found the milk she was after.
Rooting around in the closet, he grabbed a plain gray t-shirt, rough denim jeans, and a fresh pair of underwear. The shirt was a touch snug, but he wouldn't complain about displaying his body off more than usual. It would be a pleasant surprise for his wife when she returned.
He'd just begun to button the pants when the world shifted.
Teleporting was one experience. Being teleported by somepony else - particularly without the consent or foreknowledge - was another.
His surroundings were pushed aside, like a presentation changing slides. Vertigo dragged on his skull, and he stumbled, nearly falling over.
It took a moment to register the new environment. When he did, his eyes widened, then narrowed.
The floor, walls, and ceiling were built of pure crystal, their facets an opaque and milky blue like the rest of the palace. Unlike the other rooms, it was covered in black.
Posters for various M-rated games, R-rated films, and death metal bands plastered the walls. To the right side was a gothic dresser, stacked with various bottles, tools, and sets that Shining recognized from his time with Cadance as for applying makeup. To the left was a three-monitor PC setup, below the desk a computer case bulky and pitch black with violent red LEDs.
Between them was a bed, large enough to fit a family, heart-shaped and covered with a fluffy black comforter. On its edge sat a familiar teen, controller in her hands. She glared at him, mascara and eyeshadow framing her face in an eternal look of vague irritation.
"Oh. It's you."
Shining glared right back, doing his best to ignore the mare's excuse for clothing. He and Cadance had accepted the makeup. They had allowed the piercings, chokers, and bands - some smooth, others studded or spiked. They had even tolerated the tattoos.
But her clothes were the final straw.
Or they should have been.
Repeatedly, they'd tried telling her that no, latex boy shorts that left half her ass exposed and revealed her cameltoe was not anywhere near appropriate. No, a matching bra that let ponies see miles down her cleavage and barely covered her nipples was not acceptable. She was a Princess, they scolded. She had to dress - and act - accordingly.
That didn't mean she had to wear a dress, they assured her. She wouldn't even need to wear regalia like her mother.
Flurry's response was two middle fingers, with sharp, long, black painted nails.
So they took her clothes and grounded her.
Her next manuver was to shut herself in her room and refuse to say anything. They, reasonably, thought she'd give up after a week.
Her clothes were returned after a month.
Today, she wore much the same as usual. There were a few differences, like the fingerless, elbow-length latex gloves, and the choker that said 'Break Me'.
And a brand new lip piercing.
His frown deepened. He'd talk to Cadance about it later.
She sighed. "If you're just gonna stare at me, I'm going back to my game."
His gaze flicked to the three screens. He recognized the game as one she'd bought a few years ago under their noses, though he couldn't recall the name. Hoards of strange demonic creatures swarmed from every direction, blasting apart in showers of guts and gore while she fired large, bright green bursts.
"Why am I here?"
His tone brooked no reproach.
She quit the game and stood up, sending her vast curves wobbling obscenely. The lewd look was further accentuated as she folded her arms, pushing her melon-sized breasts higher up.
"There wasn't any milk left in the fridge, so I tried looking for mom with my magic. I thought you were her. You're not," she sighed, then grinned. On instinct, Shining stepped back. "But you're here, so you'll do."
Her horn flared with azure life, cutting short his chance to ask what she meant. He mirrored the action, lighting his own with crackling magenta.
"Whatever you're about to do, don't. I'll ground you for a week-"
She released the spell.
He dodged, throwing up a fractal shield.
It punched straight through.
Shining Armor was a powerful unicorn, but Flurry's magical might utterly quashed his own. The energy made contact, slipping into his body. Counterspells were fired, again and again, but they were rocks against a wave.
Excess mana poured through his veins. Wherever it brushed him, he tingled.
He fell to his hands and knees, groaning. Beneath the layers of skin, muscle, and fat, his bones shifted. Some narrowed, others widened. Where his shirt clung less tightly against his sides, the front grew hot and uncomfortable. His jeans felt similarly, pressing against his thighs and rear.
The buzz at his crotch snapped him to attention. Puzzle pieces clicked in place, and he scrambled to his hooves.
The change of balance startled him. Looking down, the magic was working blindingly fast.
His center of mass was decidedly more top-heavy than it used to be. Two shapes emerged from his chest, stretching the fabric visibly and audibly. Behind him, he heard the creak of his jeans.
"What," he said, and squeaked at the sound of his own voice. It was a mare's voice, high and bird-like.
Gleaming put her hands on her head. She screwed her eyes shut, and prayed this was some sort of strange, fetishistic dream.
She opened her eyes. Gazing up at her was a grand canyon of cleavage, white-furred and lusciously round. her nipples, large and erect, poked at the fabric. Whenever she breathed, her tits moved, and the cloth brushed against them, making her gasp.
Cool air brushed her stomach and teased her ass. The world was larger - more accurately, she shorter - but her clothes were far tighter. She took a step, and jiggled from her thighs up to her bust.
Above all, she was most unnerved by the fact she was referring to herself as 'she' in the first place - or that her name had inexplicably changed.
The reminder brought her hand low. Her fingers curled past the waistband of her jeans, pressing to her now flat nethers. One digit errantly grazed the puffy mound, and she shuddered.
Jerking her hand out, she balled her fists and shrieked. "What the fuck did you do to me?"
She wasn't sure what to cringe at harder - her shrill tone, or the way her cantaloupe-sized jugs bounced.
Flurry's glossy black lips were a thoughtful line. Her baby blues, rapt and calculating, roamed across Gleaming's stacked form.
"Hm. I think your tits could stand to be a bit bigger. What about you?"
She didn't wait for Gleaming's answer. A second bolt shot from her horn, directed right at Gleaming's rack.
Her attempts to dodge were useless. With her muscles gone and center of gravity shifted, she could only manage to stumble.
The second spell's impact was more of a pillow than a tsunami, but heat flowed into her all the same. She blushed, moaning unconsciously, trying to keep her eyes open.
The sensations proved superior to her willpower. Her lashes fluttered, and she just breathed, clipping in short, quick pants as her shirt creaked. Splits and tears opened up in the fabric, exposing squishy flesh that oozed through.
Seconds later, the shirt tore. Their advance continued unimpeded, cobalt teats widening, lengthening, stiffening. The heat in her core split, solidified.
Then sloshed.
"O-o-oh fucking Celestia."
The urge to milk herself was too much. Unthinking, eyes closed, she reached.
Hands grabbed her wrists. She dared to peek one eye open, and stared directly into the eyes of her daughter, grinning with mad, unrestrained glee.
"Don't worry, mom. I'll take care of it for you."
In her magic, she held the controller. A nondescript button flicked upwards, and Gleaming heard it vibrate. Before she could ask what Flurry was doing, she lowered it down, pressing the buzzing edge into her covered pussy.
Flurry and Gleaming moaned in united pleasure. Her left hand had freed Gleaming's wrist, and was busy rubbing feverishly at her plump cameltoe.
Utterly incapable of thought, Gleaming offered no protest as Flurry's lips parted, and sealed around her left nozzle.
The young Princess could barely fit it in her jaw. She had made Gleaming's tits enormous, two ripe and productive udders that covered her belly button, and the nipples were as respectively huge. Yet, can-sized or no, Flurry managed the fit.
And Gleaming groaned. In the past she had experimented with tweaking her nipples, but this was incomparable. This was infinite bliss, and infinite torture in equal amounts. It amplified the soreness of her milk-heavy breast, but also relieved it.
Flurry was all too happy to reap the reward. She closed her eyes, her right hand pawing, clawing at Gleaming's other tit, but she never dared touch the nipple.
She wanted mommy's milk, and couldn't allow a single drop go to waste.
Guzzling, slurping down spurt after spurt of fresh, warm dairy, Flurry's pace quickened. She dug her fingers insistently into her cunny, sliding one digit against her prominent clit. Gleaming was just as much a receiver, magic forcing the controller to buzz harder, harder, harder until she thought it might bore a hole through the denim.
Seconds later, Gleaming orgasmed. Her wailing, whorish mewl reverberated through the room, and whatever conscious part of her mind remained prayed no guards were stationed outside.
With her jeans on, she could only splatter and soak the fabric, leaving behind a dense damp spot. Seeing her newly minted milk mommy creaming herself pushed Flurry over the edge, who cooed through the streaming jets of milk.
She pulled off Gleaming's generous tap with a slick pop. The controller's buzz stopped, before being thrown onto the bed.
"Are... are," Gleaming panted, mounds heaving with tremendous weight. "Are you... are we?"
"Done?"
Flurry laughed. From somewhere unseen she slid out an object - a purple dildo the size of Gleaming's arm.
"Not even close."
Through the cracked door, purple eyes drank in the perverted sight. Flurry shoved Gleaming onto the bed, ripping her jeans and briefs away in one savage, magical explosion. Gleaming squirmed, but brayed loudly as Flurry's teeth sank into her right tit.
A wicked smile split the observer's lips.
An arcane aura the same shade as Flurry's passed over the otherwise unremarkable Crystal Guardsmare's form, until Princess Cadance stood in the hall, clad in armor, jerking her arm-thick marecock.
"Now you get an idea of what I have to go through," she purred. Licking her lips, she fondled her balls with her magic, glorping them up a few sizes bigger.
As the dildo entered her wife's virgin cunt, Cadance imagined it was her cock there instead. Her prick flared, and belched out a wad of glue-thick she-pre.
"You did always talk about having another kid," she mused, jerking faster. "But I think you could stand to bear a litter~"