Title:           Creative Cake Crafting
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/gZgqrVVJ
First Edit:      Tuesday 25th of August 2015 08:12:45 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Tuesday 25th of August 2015 08:12:45 PM CDT

Canterlot High, a special school where students from around town gather to learn, to socialize and, as of late, get transformed into very busty or well hung versions of themselves; brain drain may or may not be included. Under the guidance of Principal Celestia, and with the rather reluctant assistance of Twilight Sparkle and Company, things are progressing at quite a clip within the once drab halls. The splashes of colors, both bright and subtly sexy, can serve as a distraction when students make their ways down the halls. But Pinkie Pie is not most students.
 
“Good afternoon!” the party girl squeals, bouncing up and hugging one of the flatter girls in school. All smiles, the frizzy-haired girl giggles. “It’s your birthday next week, right?” The girl nods and Pinkie whoops, throwing some confetti in the air. “Well happy early birthday! I’ll be sure to bring you something special, okay?”
 
The scene is hardly unusual and so no one stops to bat an eye, even though the girl in question is extraordinarily embarrassed on account of getting singled out. Still, Pinkie pays no mind and continues to skip through the hall, her big bust bouncing as she makes her way to the door. Because, you see, this isn’t a story about the steadily increasingly vice-like grip that Principal Celestia has over the transforming student body, oh no; this is a story about the world beyond the confines of Canterlot High.
 
Pinkie’s trip outside the walls follows much the same formula as her prance through the school corridors, excessively chipper, happy, and greeting everyone that she sees. It’s been that was for years, but lately she has gained more attention if only because her bouncing has managed to become that much more eye catching. The curvaceous frizzy-haired student often seems ready to burst out of her clothes but has, amazingly, never had a mishap. Not even a nip-slip!
 
Despite her lackadaisical movements, Pinkie has a very clear destination in mind, and a desire to get there as quickly as possible. Sugar Cube Corner is located a relatively nondescript building, especially when compared to the businesses spaces around it. It is thankfully located at on a corner, giving it ample space for seating out front, but aside from the off color roof and pastel pink and purple awning out front, it looks just the same as any other building nearby. What separates it first, is the smell.
 
The Cakes, having been in the sweet business for more than a decade, are excellent bakers. Their storefront features everything from bran muffins to cream cheese cakes, and their specialty order catalog is even more robust, boasting an array of confections that might be unimaginable to your standard home baker or sweet maker. Delivery or catering, the spousal-pair can handle anything that the customer requests.
 
Or, they had at one time, but as external stresses began to weigh down on them, they decided to hire Pinkie to fill in the gaps. And she is especially grateful for that! So the party girl pushes open the doors to the bakery with all the energy she can muster. “Good afternoon Miss Cake! Mister Cake! Sugar Cube Corner customers too!”
 
“Oh good, you’re here,” the rather lank Mr. Cake says with a smile. “Do you think that you could watch the till for a while? I can hear the twins starting to get cranky.”
 
“Okie dokie!” Pinkie says with a cheery smile, taking the man’s position behind the counter and giving him a chance to go upstairs as she helps the mid-afternoon customers. Yes, ever since the Cake’s had been blessed with two adorable bundles of joy, they’ve seemed especially run down and begun calling on Pinkie more and more as a result.
 
Not that the girl is surprised any more, especially after a few nights sleeping in the Cake’s spare bedroom in an attempt to avoid contact with her ‘gimbo-ized’ sisters. The whole mess in the Pie household is something that really must be untangled, but until Twilight gives her the okay, Pinkie is content to remain in the care of her employers.
 
As she exchanges dough for dough, another voice calls out from the kitchen behind her. “Pinkie, could you come back here for a minute? I’ve got my hands full, but there’s a batch of blueberry muffins I need taken out right away!”
 
“Coming!” the teen responds as sweetly as she can, eager to assist. The truth is, Pinkie Pie loves working at the Corner and has every intention of trying to work under the husband and wife pair at least until she’s out of school, and then perhaps even beyond. And it’s shaping up to look quite possible too as the trio make an excellent team, each able to swap out between counter, cooking, and child caring with ease.
 
But even in the midst of record breaking sales and cheerful smiles shared between them, something in the Corner has begun to turn from sweet, to sour.
 
The first rumblings of it appear at closing time that very night, after the last customer has been helped and the sign is flipped for the evening. Pinkie pushes a broom from end to end, sweeping under the tables while Mr. Cake cleans and wipes down the display, and Mrs. Cake counts up the money.
 
“Another wonderful day,” she sighs, leaning over and pressing her lips against her bent over husband’s cheek. They certainly make for an odd couple, the tall and lanky Carrot Cake who can’t put on a lick of muscle to save his life, and the far shorter and more rounded Cup Cake, who wouldn’t be able to reach her husbands cheek if he were standing, even on the tips of her toes. But that has never seemed to deter either of them from loving the other.
 
“I’ll say. We really appreciate the help today, Pinkie.”
 
The teenage baker leans against her broom, offering up her usual friendly smile. “No problem Mister and Misses Cake; you know I’m always happy to help make things run a little smoother!”
 
It’s the same conversation every night, and has turned into quite the comfortable routine for Pinkie. She comes in after school and the three of them serve customers until a little after sundown. Afterwards they exchange pleasantries as they close up for the night, generally encouraging one another as best they can. And so, she waits for Mr. Cake to chime back in with a kind, affirming statement.
 
Only, tonight the conversational flow falls flat. Mr. Cake looks at Pinkie and frowns. Frowns! Outside of being stressed or tired, Pinkie doesn’t think that she’s ever seen a serious expression on the older man’s face! He sighs and looks away, earning another concerned look, this time from his wife.
 
“Honey? Is something wrong?”
 
The baker sighs once more, like an engine struggling to start up. Standing up straight, he towers over the two women and brings a hand to the back of his neck. He glances towards Pinkie and then to his wife, then off into a nondescript corner of the room before speaking. “Not so much wrong, but I do think that we need to have a talk. The three of us.”
 
“It’s not a serious problem, is it? Cup Cake asks, placing the money aside and stepping closer to the lanky man. “The babies are okay?”
 
“Yes, of course, no one’s sick or hurt, or anything like that. No one’s even in trouble,” Carrot bobs his head and looks over to Pinkie. He motions her closer with a forced smile. “It’s just that this is something of a private matter, and it’s a little hard to talk about, even though we need to.”
 
Watching the two partners hold each other close, Pinkie is filled with an uncertain feeling, as though she were already being singled out. Despite dread making itself known in the pit of her stomach, she still steps towards the pair with the best grin that she can manage. The bakery is still for a few seconds as Carrot takes a deep breath, and then gives the young girl a pointed look.
 
“Pinkie, you know that we appreciate you and all that you do.”
 
As though following her husband’s lead, Cup chimes in with a genuine smile. “You make things so much easier and take a load off our minds.”
 
Carrot nods and closes his eyes. “But, we have to do something about your… toys.”
 
The color begins to drain from Pinkie’s face as Cup Cake frowns, mouthing the last word a few times before realizing what her husband is implying. Gulping, the red-faced baker gives the tall man a gentle nudge, shaking her head. He leans down, and she whispers into his ear, “Carrot, must we?”
 
“We have to,” he responds, as though Pinkie can’t already hear every word. “When I went up today, I nearly broken my neck after stepping on one that had rolled into the hall.”
 
“Well, I know that it’s difficult with three full grown adults in the loft,” his wife murmurs back, “but she only just moved in a short while ago. Can’t we just let this lie for a little while?”
 
Carrot sighs, standing up straight and frowning. “As I said, I’m not especially comfortable talking about this either,” he says in a more normal voice. “But the kids are going to start crawling around soon, and I would like for our home to be safe and sanitary for their sake. Do you understand?”
 
Pinkie gives a small nod, biting her lip and averting her eyes. She can almost feel the weight of responsibility crashing down on her and it’s not an especially pleasant feeling. Add in a healthy dose of embarrassment, and all the usual perky Pinkie can manage to do is offer up a small, squeaking response of, “Yes. Can I go upstairs now?”
 
“Sure,” Carrot says with a smile. “We’ll finish up down here. You go get some sleep.”
 
Bobbing her head, the frizzy-haired girl hurries past the pair, her heels clacking against the floor and then the stairs as she makes her way into the loft apartment above. Ducking into the guest bedroom, Pinkie flops onto the bed and buries her face into a pillow before letting out a distressed groan.
 
“So embarrassing…”
 
Even such a distance away, with floorboards and doors separating them, Pinkie can hear a small dispute echoing up from the ground floor. The words aren’t clear, but the intention is: Cup isn’t especially pleased with her husband’s proactive attitude and Carrot is scrambling to explain himself. Even though Mrs. Cake is really giving her husband what for, any pleasant feelings are quickly drowned out by the knowledge that she’s the one responsible for this conflict. Rubbing her face against the pillow, Pinkie attempts a futile effort to block out the sounds. Eventually, she settles for rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling; trying not to think too much about what they might be saying.
 
It isn’t that Pinkie is an especially dirty girl. Well, she does have an inclination towards more perverse ideas, but the person of Pinkie is rather neat outside of the bedroom and the kitchen. The fact of the matter is that she simply gets a little scatter brained sometimes, even during masturbation. A fair number of toys litter the space around her bed, small vibrators and athletic tape for securing them, a couple plugs for when she’s feeling especially adventurous, a smattering of dildos of various sizes of course, and a number of other odds and ends that she’s picked up after various trips to adult ‘party supply’ stores. She even has a kinky board game somewhere under the bed and fully intends to bring it along to the next girls’ night sleepover.
 
But, it cannot be denied that when it comes to manual masturbation, Pinkie gets bored quickly; that’s why she has so many different things to keep her attention. It was a little bit of a problem before she became a bimbo, but the issue has steadily grown since. As the teen mulls over her options, there are a few that jump out almost immediately, but she shoots them down just as quickly. If the Cakes end up arguing over a few toys, there’s no way that they would let her bring someone up to her bedroom, would they? But Pinkie can’t deny that there’s been an increasing need inside of her that cold plastic simply can’t fill. She needs to be touched, she needs to be kissed, she needs-!
 
A knock snaps Pinkie out of her reverie. Instinctively wiping a sleeve across her face in an attempt to make herself presentable, the pink-haired girl calls out, “Come on in.”
 
“Hi,” Cup Cake smiles as she pushes her way inside. Pinkie doesn’t miss the way her eyes almost immediately fall to the floor and take in the toys scattered about on either side of the bed. But still the older woman manages to keep her expression up, if it’s a little more forced than when she came in, so the young baker sits up and scoots over, making room for her on the foot of the bed.
 
Cup Cake moves with a surprising amount of grace and speed for a woman with her weight and shorter legs, each quick step deftly avoiding the leisure landmines scattered about the room. With a grunt and a small hop, she clears a short distance from the floor to the bed, landing with a heavy thud and a womanly grunt. Pinkie giggles a little at her mentor’s movements, and Cup finds herself responding in kind before they fall into a brief silence.
 
“So, how are we feeling?” the older woman asks at last. Pinkie shrugs, her mirthful attitude having deflated a good deal since coming upstairs. Mrs. Cake sighs and moves closer to the girl, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee. “I know it wasn’t an especially comfortable thing that happened down there with my husband. I want you to know that I’ve already given him a stern talking to.”
 
“It’s okay,” Pinkie shrugs, looking into the woman’s eyes. “I mean, he just wants to be sure that Pumpkin and Pound are safe, happy and healthy; why wouldn’t anyone want that for their babies?”
 
Cup Cake nods, but squeezes her hand anyway. “That’s a very good point, and I appreciate you listening to him, but he forgot one, very important thing.” Pinkie raises an eyebrow, allowing the woman to continue, “As long as you’re living under our roof, the same rules should apply to you as they do to our own children.”
 
“Mrs. Cake, that’s really nice but-”
 
“Now, now,” the woman says with a click of her tongue, “you don’t need to pretend for me; once upon a time I was a teenage girl too, you know.”
 
Pinkie giggles, rolling her eyes. “C’mon Mrs. Cake, it wasn’t that long ago.”
 
“Well you’re sweet to say that,” Cup chuckles, “but what I mean is that I know what it’s like to be an excitable young woman, with a hundred different feelings pulling you a thousand different directions.” Sliding her hand off Pinkie’s knee, the smaller woman takes Pinkie’s hand and squeezes it. “What you’re doing isn’t wrong, it’s natural and healthy.”
 
Glancing around the bed, Cup Cake smiles at her charge, adding, “I’m not going to say that my collection was as eclectic as yours is, but you shouldn’t feel ashamed or think that you’re unwanted here just for being a little messy in your own space.”
 
After a moment, Pinkie nods and leans forward, hugging the smaller woman. Mrs. Cake gives a delighted laugh as she nearly topples over, the teen bumping her nose into the older baker’s purple-and-pink-swirl up-do. It smells like bread and frosting, same as it always does, and the scent still brings a smile to her face. “Thanks Mrs. Cake. I’ll try to do a better job of keeping things in order.”
 
Cup Cake remains quiet and simply smiles, patting the young woman on the back. The two stay like that for a long while, before the baker grunts and wobbles to her feet. “Well, that’s that then; be sure to get plenty of sleep, we’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
 
“I will,” Pinkie assures her before squirming under the covers. Cup once again makes the treacherous trek across no-man’s land to the door. Flicking the light, she stands half in the hall, and half out, still smiling at her employee.
 
“Goodnight, Pinkie.”
 
“Goodnight, Mrs. Cake,” the tired teen responds with a sigh, listening carefully for the click of the door as it closes, and the quiet footsteps of her boss as she makes her way to the master bedroom.
 
Pinkie lies in her bed for a while longer, staring up at the dark ceiling and debating with herself. After everything that’s happened today, she’s really considering not doing it, but the action has become something of a nightly ritual. Eventually thinking just becomes too much for the poor girl, and so Pinkie sighs and reaches down beside the bed, pulling up one of the larger vibrators. It hums to life as she slides it under the covers, and then she begins to tremble in time with it.
 
===
 
A week after the incident, things have largely gone back to normal. Mr. Cake seems to have been thoroughly cowed by his wife’s tongue lashing, and so the world marches on. Sales are up and so is production, everything is super once again! Well, until that fateful day when Pinkie and the rest of the girls meet Twilight’s brother. Or rather, the stud formerly known as Shining Armor.
 
After a number of back and forth exchanges among the girl, Twilight stomps her foot and declares with all the certainty that she can muster, “That man was not my brother!”
 
“GASP!” Pinkie inhales, slapping her hands to her cheeks. “An evil twin!?” The rather cold stares from her friends cause the plucky girl to grin nervously at Twilight and wave her on.
 
Twilight then goes on to explain, at great and boring length, about how there are two Shining Armors or something like that; it’s honestly a little too much for Pinkie to grasp after a day of having her head crammed full of school stuff. But there is one part of the explanation that snaps everything into focus for her. “I think my brother’s been affected by the magic.”
 
That’s when everything goes crazy. The girls start talking on top of each other in a mishmash of excitement, amazement, irritation, fear, and anticipation. Pinkie is pretty sure she throws out the idea of a sex party, but honestly it’s a little hard to pick her own thoughts out of the whirlwind of activity. But the end result is the same for all the girls. Whereas before they had been somewhat hesitant regarding the magic, they were all now far more intrigued. Except maybe Fluttershy, that girl is just so hard to read!
 
But, one way or another, Pinkie finds herself walking towards Sugar Cube Corner, with a thousand different thoughts rumbling through her head. Despite her rather awkward encounter with Maud and her sisters, maybe she could find a way to rebimbo or reditzify them? It’s certainly an intriguing possibility, especially the prospect of seeing what Maud might look like as a peppy, preppy party pal for Pinkie. Maybe she’d get a plucky hairstyle too!
 
Giggling to herself, Pinkie trots into Sugar Cube Corner and smiles as she’s once again covered in the warmth and scent of the bakery. There really is no place like hom-
 
“Pinkie, kitchen!” Mrs. Cake calls with a frantic note in her voice.
 
“On it!” the sing-song reply escapes her lips without a second thought. Bouncing back to the ovens, the party girl continues to weigh her options, but as the minutes pass, it becomes increasingly clear that the best place to start might be here, at Sugar Cube Corner. There are plenty of customers and she could try out any number of combinations to try and make them happier, but the best place to begin could be with the Cakes.
 
Not that the Cakes are especially unhappy, they have a deep love for each other and now Pumpkin and Pound as well, but they just look so tired anymore. A little magic might help to put a spring in their step and make them feel a little younger, at least at heart. Pinkie ponders that it doesn’t even have to be much at all; just a pinch in something small like a cupcake, brownie, muffin or even a doughnut. The Cakes probably wouldn’t even notice anything beyond feeling better, and it’s the least she can do after they’ve put her up in their home!
 
Just because the idea has the added benefits of allowing her to directly observe how the magic affects boys, or men in Mr. Cake’s case, and also meets the one transformation quota that Twilight had put out for her friends earlier in the day, doesn’t mean that she’s blindsided by the possibilities. It’s helping them! And so, the eager Pinkie begins to mull over the best way to express her thanks to the kind, caring, generous Cakes.
 
Eventually, she settles on cupcakes; small, sweet, and relatively easy to make. Of course, with the steady stream of customers, it’s difficult to find time to work on personal baking, so she waits. Impatiently, nearly bouncing and jiggling out of her apron in anticipation, but waiting all the same. Finally, as the sun begins to set, the customers thin out and Pinkie can make out the quiet murmurs of conversation from the Cakes on the other side of the wall.
 
“Perfect,” she smiles, singing a happy little ditty about baking cupcakes as she starts the process. When it comes time to mix the batter, Pinkie does it by hand in order to ease the magic from inside her body into the mix instead. Her belly tumbles around in excitement, as she’s never actually attempted to force her magic into something before; it’s always been a mostly unconscious effort where she just fills a party location with a bit of magic naturally by being there. The effects, while always an improvement, are generally modest such as making party goers more receptive to advances, and never ever permanent, so this is an exciting new frontier for the party girl.
 
When the batter begins to take on a light pink glow, Pinkie forces herself to ‘turn off the tap’ as it were. Admittedly, there may have been some additional magic flowing out of her for a short time after, but experimentation is a part of baking, and an exciting one at that! So the young woman decides to pay less attention to the magic and instead does the best that she can to ensure that the batter is the right texture and consistency before dropping it into baking tins and putting the soon-to-be cupcakes into the always ready ovens. With hurried excitement driving her fluttering heart and the bounce in her step, Pinkie Pie begins to prepare for the next stage: frosting.
 
The mixture is easy enough, as the Cakes keep a well stocked kitchen, and so by the time the oven dings, Pinkie’s frosting is ready. But as Pinkie places the cupcakes and frosting side by side, she notices something that causes her to pause. Rather than being just restricted to the freshly baked confection, both the cupcakes and the frosting are giving off the same soft, glistening pink light. In fact, the frosting may even be a little brighter than the muffins! Apparently turning ‘off’ the magic isn’t quite as simple as throwing a mental switch.
 
“Darn it,” Pinkie whimpers biting her lip and glancing about. The obvious solution is to try and remake the frosting, but what is she going to do with this first batch? The Cakes are notoriously frugal when it comes to using as much of something as they can, and if they knew Pinkie was even considering throwing out perfectly good frosting, they’d-
 
“Pinkie?” Mr. Cake asks from the door, causing the bouncy bimbo to jump. “Everything all right in here? I thought I smelled something baking.”
 
Forcing a smile, Pinkie glances over her shoulder and giggles. “F-Fine Mr. Cake. And I mean, why wouldn’t you smell baking, this is a bakery after all!”
 
The lanky man chuckles, but leans further through the door anyway, raising an eyebrow as he catches sight of the cupcakes and batter on the work station. “Trying to get a jump on tomorrow? You know that those six will be crusty by the time we open, and hard as rocks by the time anyone’s actually feeling up to buying a cupcake.”
 
Caught. Pinkie giggles again, placing her hands behind her back and rocking from side to side in an attempt to seem cute, disarming, and not at all the little schemer she currently is. “Oh, right. I guess that the time just slipped my mind; I thought for sure we needed a few more before closing.”
 
The usually kind man offers a smile and a nod before placing a hand on his hip. “Well, you might be right there, and there’s no sense in letting them go to waste. Why don’t you frost them up and we’ll put them on display. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
 
What? No! This isn’t what Pinkie had in mind at all! Glancing about, she makes a small sound of distress and tries to process a way to get herself out of this. These were the Cake’s cupcakes after all, and who knows what would happen if anyone else got them? So, she puts up the best argument that she can in the face of her employer’s steadily furrowing brow.
 
“Eep.”
 
“Good to hear, well, don’t take too long, otherwise-”
 
“W-wait,” Pinkie grunts, holding out her hand and causing Carrot to stop, “I actually, I wanted to do something for you and Mrs. Cake after letting me stay here on such short notice. So, I baked, um, thank-you cupcakes.”
 
There’s a momentary pause before the tall man chuckles and shakes his head. “Well why didn’t you just say so in the first place? That’s awfully sweet of you Pinkie, in more ways than one. I can’t believe you almost let me sell them to customers.”
 
Squirming, Pinkie looks away and sighs, “But, I tried something different than usual with these and I’m afraid that they might not come out very well as a result. I don’t want to disappoint you two after all that you’ve done for me.”
 
Mr. Cake sighs, glancing out to the counter before walking up to the girl. His long, thin hands press against either side of her face, lifting her head and smiling down at the still anxious teen. “Then that’s all the more reason why the three of us should try them together. We’re a team, Pinkie, and if you’re having trouble with a new recipe, then that just means that we can all work through it together.”
 
“Aw!” Pinkie squeals, leaning forward and wrapping the lanky man into a huge, boob crushing hug. Mr. Cake, to his credit, manages to stammer and sputter something about inappropriate contact, but eventually gives in and hugs the girl back. From how he squeezed her, the top-heavy teen can only giggle in delight, knowing that a part of him enjoys being this close to her.
 
The two pull apart at last, and the blushing Carrot Cake quickly moves towards the door. “I’ll let Cup know that you’ve whipped up something special for us, so why don’t you see to frosting those and we’ll close up a little early tonight?”
 
“Okie dokie,” the girl says, with just as much enthusiasm as always, but her voice tempered by stress and anticipation. After such a near miss and the obvious magical excess that she’s poured into the cupcakes, Pinkie can feel her heart thudding away in her chest at the prospect of marching of into the unknown. But now thoughts of merely being helpful seem impossibly distant; instead, Pinkie delights in the prospect of what the night ahead holds.
 
After the last customer leaves, the Cakes come back to the kitchen where Pinkie is applying the final touches of frosting to the baked delight. Mrs. Cake gives a small laugh as she approaches first, sizing up the half-dozen goods with her eyes.
 
“Well, when I heard that you had done a little experimental baking, I thought that you would end up with something a little smaller than this,” Cup Cake leans over, admiring them for a moment more. “That is quite a lot of frosting though; it’s at least double or triple the amount that we would usually put on.”
 
“I made a lot more than I expected, and didn’t want to waste it,” Pinkie says with a smile. The statement is, of course, true, but not for the Cake’s usual reasoning. Wetting her lips, the apprentice baker holds out her hand and grins. “I hope that won’t stop you from trying them.”
 
“Well, one won’t hurt,” Mrs. Cake giggles, picking up the one closest to her and taking a moment longer to admire it. “Goodness, what a vibrant pink hue. Carrot, can you imagine selling these for baby shower or bachelorette parties? The girls would be all over them!”
 
“Do you think?” her husband asks, picking up one for himself. He purses his lips a few times before giving a small nod. “Well, yes I suppose that there might be an interest. In that case, it all comes down to how it tastes, right Pinkie?”
 
The teen nods, watching as the Cakes lock eyes. Their mouths open and together they take a small, experimental bite out of the baked goods. Pinkie holds her breath as they chew, the young girl searching their faces for some kind of tell that would indicate something, anything. The moment comes a few seconds in, when Cup Cake gives a small wobble of her head.
 
“Well, it’s very sweet, as I thought it might be.”
 
Carrot gives a small chuckle, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ll say. That first bite was enough to make my teeth start to ache.”
 
Pinkie’s shoulders sag as the two adults engage in a brief exchange about the texture, sweetness, moistness, and other qualities. Their critique goes completely over the sulking confectioner’s head as she at last works up the nerve to mutter, “So, they’re bad?”
 
“I wouldn’t say that,” Cup responds, earning a curious look from her apprentice, “it’s a little off putting since they’re very sweet, but the smoothness is wonderful. There’s still a ways to go, but I’m certainly not opposed to eating it.” The older woman smiles and brushes a bit of her hair out of her face before taking another bite. Normally, such a response might lift Pinkie’s spirits, but she’s more caught off guard by the unnatural motion on the part of her mentor.
 
Mrs. Cake is very proud of her ability to maintain her hair and keep it up in a distinct up-do style. To even imagine even a single hair being out of place is something so completely foreign that Pinkie struggles to process what she’s just seen. Compounded with the realization that Cup Cake’s normally short trimmed nails appear slightly longer, and any frustration that Pinkie might have had regarding the stiff sweetness of her cupcakes disappears in an instant. Instead, she’s once again filled with an excited anticipation, her eyes jerking over to Mr. Cake.
 
“Right,” the man says in a somewhat strained voice. “Cup is absolutely on the mark; the sweetness is overwhelming but it’s wonderfully moist.” Bringing the cupcake up to his mouth, he takes another bite. Pinkie’s eyes roam his body for several seconds before it dawns on her that his clothing isn’t fitting as well as it had when she came in this afternoon. Well, scratch that, from the way his thickening arms are now filling out the sleeves of a much twiggier man, Pinkie is more inclined to say that he’s wearing his clothes better now than before.
 
Mrs. Cake sighs as she polishes off her cupcake first. The space around the two oblivious bakers begins to shift, with the tile changing from a rather plain grey to something that might come straight out of a confectioner’s flooring catalog. Sugary sweet pinks, reds, oranges, and yellows appear beneath their feet, sometimes solid, sometimes swirling as they spread across the kitchen floor and out into the store proper.
 
“In truth, that was really good,” Cup Cake giggles, bringing a hand to her mouth as she does. Her nails are now incredibly long, to the point where they might regularly interfere with her work if she’s not careful, and decorated with a candy-inspired baby blue nail color the likes of which Pinkie would never imagine the older woman going for a few short minutes ago. But, there it is.
 
Mr. Cake follows suit with his own sweet, and Pinkie does her best not to drool as he fills out further. The muscles in his shoulders, chest, and even his legs are more obvious now, and while he may not have the thick, beefcake-inspired appearance that Shining Armor sports, the slim, whip-like look of his limbs certain fits more with his existing frame.
 
The two adults smile at one another, before Carrot frowns. Reaching down and taking his wife’s hand, he brings it up to his face, and then laughs. “It seems that you’ve got a little extra frosting here,” he chides her, before sliding his tongue over the tip of her finger. Mrs. Cake shudders, and Pinkie does likewise. What a robust display of public affection from the usually meek Carrot Cake!
 
“I suppose I was a little messy,” the woman responds, dipping one of her nails into the frosting of another cupcake. Bringing it up to her lips, she lavishes her tongue across the nail and her finger, gently scooping up the sweet topping as she goes. The two adults giggle, before Carrot picks up the cupcake she’d dipped her finger into and holds it up to her lips.
 
Mrs. Cake scoffs, “Come on dear, you know I shouldn’t,” but still smiles before leaning in close and taking another bite out of it. Pinkie watches in anticipation, seeing first the multi-colored wonderland that is imposing itself on the walls of the building. Like some sort of sugar plum forest, the vibrant, candy-inspired colors rush from one corner to the next, ultimately making it so the interior of the building appears more child-friendly than before. Pinkie squeaks as the work stations expand in width and depth, taking on a sturdier image before shifting from white to a warm pink color. Leaning against one of the counters, Pinkie giggles, bouncing her bottom on the steadier surface a few times before turning back to the spousal lovers.
 
Speaking of butts, Mrs. Cake has an especially nice one. Granted, it had been pleasant before, but with her body type she could range from curvy on a great day, to heavy-set on a bad one. From how her clothes are adhering to her body however, it doesn’t seem like the latter will be much of a problem any more.
 
The hem of Mrs. Cake’s dress is rising, revealing an almost endless expanse of thick thigh that even her husband will have trouble getting his hands around. As if sensing Pinkie’s attention they plump further and squeeze against each other. The hemline rises up to the point where Cup Cake is flashing a bit of her candy-red underwear as she shifts her weight forward to take another bite.
 
As a result, the matronly baker’s already voluminous backside continues a steady growth outward, the meaty mounds of her buns forming a thin crease at the back of either leg, as though they were battling with her tree-trunk thighs for positioning as best feature. It’s certainly a hard decision to make, but before she can come to a conclusion, Pinkie becomes aware of a wave of pink and purple swirl-hair cascading down the baker’s back.
 
Pinkie gapes at the sight of the prim and proper Cup Cake letting her hair down for once, a waterfall of thick, tasty strands pooling towards the middle of her back. But almost as soon as she notices it falling, the hair begins to pull itself back up into a voluminous bun. Even still, it’s clear that the weight of her new hair is too much for Mrs. Cake to manage as successfully as before, but the thick tendrils that escape her up-do instead rest against the nape of her neck and against her cheeks. The end result is an incredibly enticing vision of a woman who promises to be clean when necessary, but delights in getting messy.
 
With her second cupcake gone, Mrs. Cake gives up a quiet groan to her husband. “That, may have been better than the first,” she admits, before taking his hand in both of hers and sliding her tongue along his fingers, as though she might in some way savor the flavor further. With a bit of luck, Cup Cake manages to find a thick wad of icing tucked away on his index finger, and so she makes a rather lewd show of sucking the offending digit clean.
 
In the process, the formerly thin lips of the tired woman begin to take on an unexpected volume. Rising like dough in the oven, they pass by standard size and slightly swollen, finally settling into a realm that could only be called pleasantly plump, much like the baker herself. Her lips take on the same candy-blue color as her nails, and Cup Cake smacks them lewdly for effect.
 
“Carrot,” she whines with a cute tone. And almost immediately, her husband shakes his head.
 
“We can’t, Cup; it’s not sanitary.”
 
The curvaceous woman pouts, leaning forward into her husband’s chest. “But I want to,” she says with a wistful sigh, dragging one of her very long nails along Carrot Cake’s chest. “And we haven’t had a chance since Pinkie moved in.”
 
The not-quite-so-slender-anymore man gulps, shooting a glance towards their teenage guest. Pinkie, for her part, offers up a wide smile and waves her hand. “Whatever you two are thinking of doing, you shouldn’t let me interrupt. I’m just happy that you like my cupcakes.”
 
“Well, we do appreciate them Pinkie, but I think Cup is asking a little more than she ought right now,” the husband says, touching the round woman’s cheek with his fingers. “Don’t you think it would be best if we kept Pinkie in mind too, dear?”
 
There’s a sullen nod from the older woman. And then, Mrs. Cake’s eyes go wide, and a smile crosses her lips. Moving away from her husband, she grabs the baking dish, cupcakes and all, then takes Pinkie by the hand. “In that case, why don’t you finish cleaning up down here while Pinkie and I go to the apartment and polish the rest of these cupcakes off ourselves?”
 
The man tries to offer up a protest, but Cup won’t hear any of it, still smiling as she tugs the squealing Pinkie Pie off her seat and hurries upstairs. With amazement, the young baker watches as Mrs. Cake moves with the same short skillful steps that she remembers, but now with a mincing quality to them, causing her robust rump to wiggle and jiggle right in the teen’s face. It’s enough to make the perpetually horny girl clench her thighs together in excitement. Once on the second floor landing, the swirly-haired woman turns to her younger charge and smirks.
 
“Strip,” she declares, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
 
“Wh-” is the best Pinkie can manage before the older woman shucks off her own apron and begins to wiggle out of her dress. “Hey, hold on Mrs. Cake!”
 
“Pinkie, please,” the older woman responds with a grunt, stepping out of her dress and prancing towards the kitchen in her candy-red underwear. “Just grab those for me and do as I say, okay?”
 
The apprentice baker would offer up an argument, but seeing her mentor gently jiggle her way down the hall is enough to silence the poor girl. The best she can manage is to make a mental note that magicking batter and frosting might be a little too much as she picks up the discarded apron and dress, her heels clacking against the floor as she moves after Cup Cake.
 
Once in the kitchen, Mrs. Cake sets the tray of cupcakes down on the counter before moving to the cupboard above the stove. She’s humming a happy little ditty, one that encourages her to shake her backside, and thus has Pinkie Pie’s full attention. Even at her smaller than average height and heavier than average weight, Cup Cake has been blessed with a relatively slim waist that cinches in beautifully just above her belly. Or, perhaps that’s due to the cupcakes as well?
 
Either way, even from behind, Pinkie can see a bit of love handle on either side just below the pudgy proprietor’s waist, but after that slight hiccup, it’s smooth sailing down to her wide baby-making hips, the voluminous backside, and thighs that could suffocate anyone who might get caught between them. Add in two cutely placed Venus Dimples at the small of her back, and the mature figure of Cup Cake makes the younger Pinkie more than a little self conscious as she places Mrs. Cake’s clothes on the table before slowly undressing herself.
 
“Ah, here we go,” the older woman murmurs, pulling a pair of aprons out of the cupboard. She looks back to the still stripping Pinkie and rolls her eyes. “Come on dear, you’ll have to move faster than that. Carrot’s going to be up here at any moment.”
 
“Mrs. Cake? What are we doing, exactly?” the party girl asks, finally kicking off her heels and working her clothes off. When she doesn’t receive an immediate response, Pinkie looks up and can’t help but gawk as the matronly woman is in the process of unhooking her bra.
 
“It’s part of a game we used to play,” Cup grunts, finally freeing herself from the restrictive garment and tossing it aside. Striking a pose with her hands on her hips, the panty-clad confectioner smirks. “The sooner he finishes cleaning, the sooner he gets his surprise. Now, off with the rest of it.”
 
Pinkie nods in mute amazement at the thirty-something woman’s chest. There had been a fair amount of material to work with before the cupcakes, but the younger girl had always imagined that her mentor’s breasts would look a poorly shaped from her weight. While that may have been the case before, it would now be impossible for Pinkie to tell one way or the other, as Cup’s cakes have been thoroughly worked over by the two baked delights she ate downstairs.
 
Already rivaling Pinkie’s own chest, Mrs. Cake’s breasts lack the teen’s perk and instead have the gentle, sloping sag to them that comes with age. Not unattractive by any means, but despite their closeness in size, Cup’s seem that much larger, as though they are carrying a heavier weight within them. With a knowing smile, the swirly-haired woman makes a small show of circling her much darker nipple with a fingernail, sighing gently.
 
“Come on, Pinkie, don’t keep me waiting, take off your clothes,” she smirks. The usually perky party planner goes beet red and struggles to stammer together a reason why not, but the experienced baker is having none of that. Walking up to her charge, Cup Cake stands up in front of her before leaning forward on the tips of her toes. The result is a wonderful squishy feeling as the mature MILF’s melons mash against her own, creating a beautiful canyon of cleavage between them that seems to stretch far further than the distance between them would suggest.
 
As the older woman fiddles with Pinkie’s bra, she takes a moment to explain, “You know, my Carrot, he can be a bit of a big tit hound.” As her young charge gawks, Mrs. Cake giggles and bites her lip as she unhooks the girl’s bra and slides it away. “Sorry, didn’t you know? He loves the way big breasts squish up against him, just like this.” For emphasis, Mrs. Cake leans forward again, pressing her bare chest against Pinkie’s own. The young woman shivers as she feels the larger, thicker nipples of her mentor overwhelming her own soft and perky nubs.
 
“Great big boobs are something that really get him going. He loves to paw at them, but that’s all he’s done lately,” Cup Cake grumbles as she drops back onto her heels. “I understand he’s worried about waking the babies and about inconveniencing you, but a woman has her own needs, you know?” A smile flashes across the older woman’s painted lips as she raises her eyebrows. “So, what you’re going to do is to help me to get my hubby all hot and bothered so he doesn’t have a choice but to ravish me.”
 
“Okay?”
 
“Good. First things first, put on the apron…”
 
Pinkie does as she’s told, but somehow has the plan is explained to her it seems less intentional and more thrown together at the last minute. Still, Cup Cake’s smile and intensity are infectious. Before long Pinkie finds herself nodding along as the older woman explains her master scheme to get her husband to give her all the attention she can stand, and more.
 
===
 
It’s a good while later when Carrot Cake stumbles up the brightly colored stairs. Like the bakery below, the Cakes had opted for a vibrant, colorful paint scheme for their loft apartment that best embodies their craft; complete with candy colored stripes, splats of color along the tile floor, and numerous eye catching carpets and fixtures. As he reaches the landing, he finds that the lights are already dimmed down for the night and shakes his head. Apparently the two women have already finished and gone straight to bed.
 
Sighing, the tall man carefully steps his way around the shadows cast by scattered odds and ends, pausing by Pinkie’s door when he sees light coming from underneath it. As he listens within the room, he can hear the quiet humming sound of a vibrator, and the enthusiastic, if subdued, whimpers of the resident within. Carrot shakes his head and walks past, minding the creaky floor as he steps closer to the bedroom.
 
Except that something catches his eye when he glances into the kitchen. There, in the half-light a full bodied figure stands, squirming about in front of the stove with her back to the world as though utterly oblivious to anything beyond her work. A delightful chill runs down the man’s spine as he sees a familiar pink trail of fabric hanging between her legs, and eye catching yellow trim. It’s a familiar sign, and one that he hasn’t seen for many, many months.
 
Trailing his eyes over the thick, half-hidden body in the kitchen again, he can’t contain his smile as he sees that, aside from the apron, there is nothing else on her body. Carrot’s pants strain as he thanks his stars for the best ‘welcome home’ that Cup Cake could hope for; a wife in nothing but an apron, ready for his arrival.
¬
Despite his height, Carrot moves carefully into the kitchen, shedding his clothes all the while. They hit the ground with barely a sound on account of his stooping low in order to drop them in a skillful attempt to hide is approach. Shoes, socks, pants, shirt, underclothes, a winding trail of fabric leading from the hall into the kitchen; safety and cleanliness can wait until after the two have their fun.
 
At last, Mr. Cake reaches his destination and positions himself behind his wife. Pressing himself against her back, Carrot reaches around and grabs the massive milkers that have been feeding their children while pressing his erection up against her spine. When Cup Cake goes rigid, Carrot leans in and close to kiss her and
 
Ends up with a mouthful of frizzy hair?
 
At once the lights click on. Carrot glances back over his shoulder and sees his wife standing there, a smug smile on her lips. Cup drags a finger over the stiff indentation of her nipple visible against the thin apron and purrs at him, “Surprise, honey.”
 
“S-Surprise Mr. Cake,” Pinkie squeaks, her whole body now illuminated as she squirms against him. Carrot, too stunned to move from his position, gives both of the younger woman’s breasts an experimental squeeze. The junior baker whimpers, grinding her backside against his crotch in response before pulling away. “Sorry!”
 
“Don’t be sorry, Pinkie,” Mrs. Cake laughs, strutting over and tapping a finger against her husband’s chin. “I just wanted to tease my little Carrot a bit. You did beautifully.”
 
Wetting his lips, Carrot finally releases Pinkie and glances down the hall. “So, when I walked by her door…?”
 
Cup Cake brings a hand to her mouth in mock astonishment, her lips still turned up in a devilish smile. “You were listening to what you thought was Pinkie Pie pleasuring herself? Hmm, what a naughty husband you are.” Looking to her charge, the older woman puts on a smile. “See? I told you that my Carrot can’t help but imagine you jiggling away on your bed, he has to listen in. But,” she adds, sliding her hand down his stomach and cradling his testicles, “since it turns out you were listening to me this time, I suppose I can’t be too mad at you.”
 
“I could say something about you too,” Carrot finally manages to get out as Cup’s tickling makes him shudder. “What kind of wife tries to ensnare her husband by having him grope another woman?”
 
“Are you saying you didn’t like the feeling of Pinkie’s perky pies pressed into your palms?”
 
“No,” Mr. Cake responds with a smirk, reaching out and cradling one of Cup’s own breasts with one large hand. “I just prefer these here.”
 
“Oh do you?” The curvy woman laughs in delight, tickling her fingernails along with Carrot’s trembling body as the two continue to murmur loving nothings back and forth at each other, quiet little half-phrases and teasing that bring smiles to their lips, but go completely in one side and out the other of the still straining ears of Pinkie Pie. But the important thing is that they’re happy. And hot, definitely hot.
 
Seeing Mr. Cake’s lightly muscled body in the nude really is a treat for the teen. Plopping her rump back onto the kitchen counter, Pinkie clenches her thighs together and watches as Mrs. Cake’s skillful finger and lips work to touch and caress the contours of his firmer body. The start, or maybe remains, of a six pack run down the length of his abdomen, while the rest of his body seems to be pulled snug with adequate muscle. Sighing, the girl resists the urge to touch herself to the scene, and even begins to think that she ought to give the two some privacy.
 
“Ah, wait, wait,” Carrot Cake says with a shake of his head, much to the dismay of the two women. “Before we do anything else, I want one last thing.” Reaching out, he takes one of the cupcakes and holds it in front of his wife. “Let me feed you again.”
 
The woman blushes, twirling her finger around one of the tendrils of hair along her face. “Carrot, please; if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to fatten me up.”
 
Pinkie gulps, wondering if her mentor realized how true that statement actually is, but it apparently goes over both partner’s heads. But the curvy cutie still wets her lips and parts them ever so slightly. She thrusts her chest out so it rests against her husband’s stomach and cranes her face and neck upwards towards him, as though begging to be fed bit by bit.
 
And Carrot is more than happy to oblige. Pinching a piece off, he brings it to his wife’s mouth and she opens wider as he approaches. Once inside, Cup closes her lips around his fingers, working her tongue diligently around both them and the moist baked good, offering up quiet moans as she closes her eyes. So it goes with each piece, an agonizingly slow process that has Pinkie grinding herself against the countertop in anticipation.
 
Like her nails and her lips, Cup Cake’s eye shadow makes itself known in heavy, slutty swoops of candy-blue. The effect seems to weigh her eye lids down to the point where she’s perpetually giving her husband a sultry stare. Or maybe she has been along, and it took the make up for Pinkie to notice.
 
After that come another round of changes for Mrs. Cake’s lower body, her bottom ballooning further into a perky, pop-worthy backside, while her already large thighs spill out in every direction, narrowing the gap between them until it’s little more than a pinpoint of light, surrounded by soft, inviting flesh. Pinkie holds back a giggle as a little more pudge makes itself visible along Mrs. Cake’s love handles, when she notices something odd.
 
While much of the mature woman’s body is a blend of soft but gently firm flesh, the latest changes seem to be centered on her back; making it look as though solid muscles are developing at a surprising rate. It doesn’t make sense for a long while, until Pinkie realizes that Cup Cake’s arms are sitting a little wider. And that her breasts are still pushing them wider still.
 
Earlier in the day, Pinkie Pie had the treat of meeting not just Shining Armor, but also the rest of Twilight’s family. And, while she hadn’t been the center of attention, it was impossible not to note the absolutely tremendous rack that Twilight’s mom had been sporting; noticeably larger than even Principal Celestia’s own massive mounds. The comparison is important to note, because it’s plain to Pinkie’s eyes that Cup Cake has already managed to dwarf the MILF’s mamms, and she’s still going!
 
She stares as they slide past Mrs. Cake’s waist, and then gawks as they rumble over the curvy woman’s belly, forcing them out a little further still in the process. The impossible shift continues until Cup Cake’s generous gozangas are nearly level with the widest swell of her hips. Even with her short stature, that means that the woman is simply immense!
 
“There’s the last of it,” Carrot Cake murmurs, Cup Cake whimpering quietly and still licking away at his fingers. The apron can hardly be considered adequate anymore, as the bunched up fabric struggling to cover her bombastic breasts leaves the proprietor’s plump pussy plainly visible when she bends over. Not that she seems to care too much, as she leans further forward, pouting at her husband, and presenting to Pinkie at the same time.
 
“Are you happy now? Can I go on to my real treat?” Carrot gulps and nods his head, the two lovers almost completely unaware of Pinkie Pie’s persistent presence. Cup Cake leans forward a little more, bending her knees only slightly until she reaches her husband’s crotch. The messy noises that follow find their young charge with her fingers sliding in and out of her own honeypot as Cup Cake lavishes attention on her husband.
 
This is not what Pinkie expected when she started scheming. Maybe a little swelling in the chest region for Mrs. Cake, but never would she have dreamed of anything so outlandishly fertile. As she continues to touch herself, the young baker bites her lip, feeling the familiar sensation beginning to well up inside of her. Masturbation is good, great even, but getting to see her mentor work her husband over first hand is really beginning to stir up some uncomfortable thoughts.
 
Gritting her teeth, Pinkie does try her best to tear her eyes away from the sloppy, loving blowjob. Perhaps that will knock loose any thoughts of interrupting and joining in. But once she finally manages to do look away, her eyes fall on one of the two remaining cupcakes. And then a whole new string of thoughts pop into her mind.
 
An audible gulp escapes the teen’s throat as her mind whirrs over everything that she’s seen tonight, Cup Cake’s rapid, compounded transformation especially. Most of the reasonable parts of her brain say to leave the confection alone, but there are a few lines of thought that push back. If she really wants to try and reditzify her sisters, she probably ought to make sure it’s possible first. And besides, it will only take a bite. What harm can one little bite do? So, with gentle slurps still echoing up from the two lovers, Pinkie picks up the cupcake and takes a bite, returning to watch the show with a guilty but insatiable lust.
 
There is one thing for sure; the Cakes certainly weren’t lying about the sweetness. Pinkie whimpers as the cavity inducing confection rolls across her tongue, trying her hardest not to make a sound as she swallows. Meanwhile, the more desirable effects of the cupcake are non-existent at first, but then they begin in a wonderfully slow manner. First, her skin begins to tingle; from the tip of her toes to the ends of her hair, her entire body feels super charged. Then it focuses in on a few key points. For instance, her hair.
 
Pinkie had benefited from a mass of messy pink curls that all but screamed ready for sex even before the magic had affected her. While the first dose and made it thicker and stronger, it hadn’t actually done much changing when compared to say Rarity, or Fluttershy, who now boasted almost impossible to imagine hair. This time however, she could feel it growing, long, luxurious waves stretching down the length of her body and brushing against her backside. Thick enough to grab and pull with child-like enthusiasm, while gaining a candy-like luster that makes her seem that much brighter, peppier, and cheerier.
 
And speaking of her backside, it might be more appropriate to call it a donk at this point! As the magic works along through her lower body, Pinkie squirms in delight, feeling her hip bones widen and pad with extra soft flesh and muscle, as though it were intending to showcase her own body’s fertility in the sight of the extra MILFy Cup Cake. Her now extra padded seat raises her a fair distance, enough so that she can see over Mrs. Cake’s swirl-like up-do and watch as she attends to her husband. Pinkie’s pussy plumps, pressing hungrily against her roaming fingers, begging for attention. A few well placed fingers are the only thing holding her back at this point from jumping in between the two lovers and joining in.
 
But then come the boobs, arguably Pinkie’s favorite part of the body, and a section in which she feels as though she were somewhat shafted. While not the smallest of the group, even Rainbow had managed to end up with bigger boobies than Pinkie. And that’s just plain wrong! But now the magic seems to be righting itself, leaving the now cotton-candy headed bimbo whimpering as her chest fills out more and more.
 
They jiggle. They shake. They almost reach her waist! Sliding her free hand under her apron to the sweater puppies now residing on her chest, Pinkie can’t help but giggle. Sure, she might not be as big as Mrs. Cake, but she’s got to be the bustiest of her friends now! Except Fluttershy. Maybe, a girl can dream after all.
 
Carrot Cake gives an unexpected grunt, snapping Pinkie back to reality. Sliding his hand into his wife’s hair, the tall man grips her head tightly and trembles. For her part, the mother of two gives great greedy gulps as she pulls her head back just enough to create a tight seal around her husband’s tip. The two lovers stare into each other’s eyes for several long seconds before Mrs. Cake gives her husband an affectionate kiss, then wobbles to her feet.
 
“Now, isn’t your Cup Cake so much better than just a cupcake?” she chides, brushing her massive chest against his arm. Mr. Cake doesn’t miss the opportunity, reaching around his smaller wife and making a futile attempt to cup her breasts. By this point however, they’re far too large for him to hope to palm, but that doesn’t stop Carrot from giving her a loving squeeze.
 
“Worlds better.”
 
Brushing her cheek against her husband’s chest, Cup Cake offers up a small chuckle before she sets her sights on Pinkie Pie. Almost immediately, her eyes widen. “Oh goodness, I completely forgot about you!”
 
“That’s fine,” the blissed out party girl says with a tired smile. “Believe me, I was enjoying the show.”
 
The two adults look away, thoroughly embarrassed. At last, Mr. Cake coughs. “Pinkie I,” the words fall flat as he lets out a sigh. The teen squirms in her seat, watching the pair with a hungry intensity, waiting, hoping, for the words that might sooth the ache in her body. Working his lips around a few times, the tall man finally offers up a weak smile. “I was wondering, if I could have that last cupcake?”
 
What?
 
“What?” the pink ditz blinks, shaking her head a few times. “I, uh, I don’t get it.”
 
“Well, there were six,” he begins, pointing to between himself and his wife. “I had one and gave one to Cup, she had two, so the last one must be yours.”
 
Pinkie pouts, more than a little deflated by the simple request, but nods her head and holds out the baking tin. The man thanks her quietly and breaks off a goodly chunk before popping it into his mouth. There is some small solace in Pinkie’s depression, that perhaps the Cakes had made a bigger deal about the sweetness than was necessary. Well, that and the opportunity to watch Mr. Cake go through yet another change.
 
Like with his wife, now that Carrot’s naked, the effects are far easier to notice. Again, much to Pinkie’s disappointment, the baker doesn’t go through a drastic transition into a muscle bound hulk, but remains slender. The muscles he does have however manage to take on a very distinct, solid appearance, especially over his stomach. The creases between each segment deepen, becoming firmer, more noticeable as they begin to cross over into sculpture quality. But, as always, there is something that distracts the ditziest member of Pie.
 
It’s no real secret that Pinkie is a little obsessed with dicks. Any girl as sexual excitable as she is would be, so the prospect of seeing what Mr. Cake is packing is equal parts exciting and anxiety producing, as though she were about to see something that were double super top secret. But still, she can’t tear her eyes away from below Mr. Cake’s waist.
 
At first, it’s almost comical how he seems to be growing into his name sake. Like the rest of his body, Mr. Cake’s shaft is lean, enough so that even his wife’s comparably small hands can wrap around it, but he makes up for it in length. It might not be the snuggest fit, but it’s certainly an appetizing looking dick. Although, that doesn’t seem to be the main attraction if Cup Cake’s gentle touching is any indication.
 
Letting her eyes slide lower, Pinkie squirms in delight at the sight of two decently sized testes hanging between the man’s legs. She can almost hear the gentle stretching of skin as they swell further, taking on more of a visibly veiny mass until they finally settle in around the size of tennis balls. While it doesn’t look out of place on Carrot’s body, the soft, supple sack certainly stands in stark contrast to the otherwise muscular state of his legs.
 
But Mrs. Cake doesn’t seem to mind, gently tickling her husband with a friendly smile. “Carrot?” she begins, earning a small grunt from the panting man. “Are you going to ask Pinkie what you really wanted?” The man gulps, meeting his wife’s eyes, as if asking permission. She giggles then leans up to his ear, managing a near perfect stage whisper as she glances back to their live-in assistant. “Should I ask her for you? Would you like that?”
 
“I, I would, actually,” the breathless Carrot responds with a nod of his head. “Go ahead.”
 
Pinkie’s eyes widen as the two bakers turn to her. Mr. Cake slides an arm around his wife’s shoulder as she fixes the younger woman with a sly look. “What my hubby meant to say, is that he wants to have another chance at your breasts.” Seeing Pinkie gulp, Cup Cake giggles and grinds the outer swell of her massive melons against the man’s arm. “I told you, he’s an unapologetic tit-hound.”
 
Sliding out from under her husband’s grip, the curvaceous cake chef closes the gap between herself and Pinkie. Placing her hands on either side of the younger woman, Mrs. Cake winks up at her. “But we work so well together because I love them too. Come on, I’ll let you see my hubby’s silver tongue in action.”
 
Taking her hand, the older woman tugs Pinkie towards the end of the hall. The assistant baker gulps as she’s pulled along, casting her eyes back towards Mr. Cake as he falls in step behind them. As the trio disappears into the master bedroom and shut the door behind them, Pinkie’s fluttering heart brings an excited smile to her lips.
 
Magic, it seems, is actually quite a bit like baking. Both are almost art-like in the fact that if something goes wrong, you might end up with a ruined product and have to start over from scratch. But there are also such things as happy accidents that can result in something absolutely wonderful.
 
Only time will really tell if using magic where she lives for a second time was a good choice for Pinkie Pie. But tonight, it seems she’s getting exactly what she needs.