Title:           There are times when the world is perfect; when everything falls into place and
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/jJGYD6hL
First Edit:      Saturday 31st of October 2015 12:27:37 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Saturday 31st of October 2015 12:27:37 AM CDT

There are times when the world is perfect; when everything falls into place and just makes sense. Such moments are invaluable, as they serve to remind us that there is a measure of sanity in the world and that it’s not all chaotic and nerve wracking. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.
 
“Mother, you simply don’t understand how important this is to me,” Rarity says with a pronounced pout. The act itself hardly impressive when considering the size of the girl’s lips, but she does it all the same. She even adds in an indignant foot scuff for good measure. “This is a golden opportunity that I cannot pass up on.”
 
On the other side of the table, Cookie Crumbles crosses her arms over the slight slope of her middle-aged belly and gives a world weary sigh. Her daughter has been stuck on this point for the better part of half an hour and she still doesn’t seem to understand why her request might be an issue. “I know you’re excited about the prospects sugar, but it’s not exactly cheap to rent out another retail space; especially when it’s in the city proper.”
 
The teen furrows her brow and purses her lips further. “But Mother, I already have the money. Well, most of it at least,” she quickly adds, twirling a bit of her hair. “All I need from you and Father is a small advance and to be my cosigners on the lease agreement.”
 
“Rarity, dear,” Cookie says with a smile, which immediately puts the younger girl on the defensive. “Carousel Boutique is doing wonderfully; you’ve surprised both Magnum and I with your knack for the clothier business. But you’re still in high school.” Reaching out across the table, the forty-something woman places her hand over her daughter’s. “I don’t want you to get so consumed by your work that nothing else in life matters.”
 
“But clothing is my life!” A small upturn at the last syllable turns to admission into a near-whine. “I just know that if I don’t act soon, that dreadful Crystal Prep,” the girl grumbles for a moment, tossing several stunning strands of hair over her shoulder before finding the right word, “hussy, is going to make a move on the space!”
 
The mother of two can’t help but giggle a little at the sight of her flustered daughter; her enormous chest heaving at the thought of someone else staking a claim on what she presumes to be rightfully hers. Noting the rather serious glower Rarity is now sporting, Cookie clears her throat and smiles again, holding back a laugh.
 
“The- the hussy?”
 
“Yes,” Rarity all but shouts, throwing her hands up into the air, “her, the hussy! Suri Polomare!”
 
Cookie stares at her daughter for a moment, trying to put the name to a face. After several increasingly strenuous seconds, her lips part and she responds, “Oh, of course; your little competition friend.” Rarity’s jaw drops as though her mother had just slapped her face.
 
“We are not friends,” the teen grumbles, putting stern emphasis on the negative. “Suri is a dreadful, sneaky girl who sullies the name of the entire fashion industry.”
 
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think, honey?”
 
Turning to her mother, Rarity adopts the straightest face she can, in spite of the slight, natural part that comes with lips of her size. “No. Don’t you remember what she did to me at the annual competition?”
 
Now that she’s straight on who this Suri character is, of course Cookie remembers; how could she not? Apparently Rarity had her kind, giving, and slightly ditzy nature taken advantage of by a rather ruthless girl and her assistant. The two had managed to concoct a vicious scheme to delay her arrival at the venue and nearly miss her chance to showcase her clothing.
 
At least, that’s how her daughter had framed the whole ordeal. Cookie has always had a sneaking suspicion that there was alcohol involved, somehow. But be it a master plan worthy of a mystery novel or a secret of her own daughter’s excess, Rarity has never, and likely will never, forgive Suri and her rather forgettable assistant: Chocolate, Vanilla, or something along those lines. Nodding sympathetically, her mother sighs.
 
“I do remember, dear; but don’t you think you’re getting a little too excited about this? I mean, you already run one store by yourself, so are you just going to close down Carousel and move to this new location?”
 
“Of course not!” Rarity snaps, her irritation obviously growing in the worst way. “I full intend to keep the Carousel Boutique as my flagship store!”
 
Cookie nods again. “And I suppose you’ll be working this new venue as well?”
 
“Naturally.” The way her daughter responds so quickly almost brings a victorious smile to her mother’s lips, but she bites it back and waits for a moment before swinging the proverbial hammer down.
 
“And how do you expect to be in two places at once?”
 
Rarity’s mouth opens. Then closes and Cookie finally allows herself a small grin. Rarity does have her airheaded moments, but to say that the girl is dense is hardly accurate. Rather, sometimes her mind just gets too many steps ahead without proper planning. As the pale girl begins to burn brighter in a mix of embarrassment and frustration, the mother of two gives her daughter another gentle pat on the hand.
 
“It’s wonderful that you’re thinking of expanding your business, but maybe now isn’t the time; you’re still in high school after all.”
 
“But Mother,” the teen says with another whine, “I have all these wonderful outfits designed and I am dying to reach a larger, more chic, audience.”
 
Ah yes, Rarity’s ‘outfits’. Cookie looks over her daughter’s latest creation, a pale blue tube top with her daughter’s usual glitz and glam stitched in and along the hemlines. Naturally, they draw attention to Rarity’s oversized chest, as well as her slender arms, neck and back, but it’s the lack of underwear which disturbs her mother the most. As though sensing the stare, the fleshed-out fashionista turns her body away slightly and pouts again.
 
“Will you at least consider it?”
 
“I don’t want to get your hopes up dear, if you j-”
 
“Ugh!” Rarity snorts, stomping her high heeled boot against the ground. Her entire body trembles, either with frustration or on account of the rather vicious impact, from her smooth legs all the way up to her chest. “You never let me do anything, Mother; I hate it!”
 
And just like that, the teen minces her way out of the kitchen at an impressive pace. The air is still, save for the click-clack of her heels, and then the resounding thud of the door as it slams into place. Bringing a hand to her face, Cookie sighs. It’s some time later before she finally gets up from the table and goes about her day.
 
It isn’t that she doesn’t love her daughter; in spite of the rather odd metamorphous the girl has gone through since entering CHS, Cookie has always tried to do what she can to meet her older daughter at some reasonable ground. The Carousel Boutique had been a hard sell, but eventually both she and Magnum had relented and allowed Rarity to go forward. Even working only in the afternoons, the store has become quite popular with local girls and women. Rather, it had.
 
Some time ago, Rarity’s designs had begun to become slightly more derivative from their usual style. Despite always a stickler for distinctly feminine fashion, the hemlines of the skirts that her daughter created slowly began to rise, first to the knee, and then to the thigh. At this point, an increasing number of her skirts and dresses can hardly be called that; with frills and pleats that barely cover a girl’s underwear.
 
Not that the tops are much better, with even the classiest evening wear now sporting deep, plunging necklines designed to show off as much bust as possible. Sleeveless, backless, or even both in some cases; to be honest, Cookie can’t remember the last time that she saw her daughter without a lengthy expanse of skin exposed on her upper body. Last winter? Perhaps even longer?
 
Either way, with Rarity’s increasing insistence on catering to a more physically robust clientele, sales have begun to dip. Her top and bottom heavy friends are certainly doing their best to pick up the slack, but there simply aren’t enough women who fit into Rarity’s latest fashion fixation. Even Cookie’s not-quite small backside struggles to fill out the most modest of her daughter’s creations, and the belly baring tops are right out when considering the older woman’s muffin top. To expose the gentle slope of her tummy to the world, the very idea makes Cookie begin to heat up with embarrassment.
 
“That girl is such a handful,” the older woman groans, resisting the urge to bring her palm to her face. Despite her youthful exuberance, at least Cookie doesn’t have to worry about Sweetie Belle flirting with the lax dress code at CHS. Or with random boys on the street. That’s the big one after all; Cookie knows how a girl can be at that age, and if Rarity has inherited her sexually adventurous streak, well…
 
Shaking her head, Cookie gently pats her cheek in an attempt to clear her head. Moving over to her purse, she pulls out her cellphone and thumbs her way through her contacts. Bringing the phone to her ear, the mother of two finally smiles again as her call gets through. “Cloudy? Cookie. I need a stitch and bitch something fierce. When are you free?”
 
===
 
“Ooh, it was terrible Pinkie!” Rarity moans, sighing and leaning her cheek on her fist. The plucky baker-in-training is busy with a customer, hardly able to give her friend any attention at all, but for the distraught diva, anything is better than none at all. Granted, the party planner is hardly her first choice for a confidant, but all the other girls seem to be too busy and she and Pinkie do have a history on account of their mothers’ closeness. “Mother was thinking circles around me. She nearly had me convinced that I shouldn’t even bother pursing this lease; can you believe that!”
 
“Wowie!” the frizzy-haired girl says after handing the customer their change. With a small hop in her step, she moves over to the counter and leans forward. “I didn’t think anyone could make you think that clothing is a bad idea outside of the bedroom.”
 
With a roll of her eyes, Rarity smirks and shakes her head. “I am many things darling, but easy is not one of them.” Giving her friend a sly smile, she pauses and looks Pinkie up and down. Gradually, thin lines of concern appear between her eyebrows before she reaches out and places a hand on her friend’s cheek. “Pinkie dear, are you all right?”
 
“Never better,” the baker says with a smile. “Why do you ask?”
 
“Well-” Rarity pauses for a moment, long enough for another customer to approach and pull Pinkie away. As she attends to him and makes giggly small-talk, Rarity has a chance to size the girl up again. Sure enough, it’s not a trick of the light or the eyes; Pinkie Pie is all but overflowing out of the top of her dress. If she’s quiet and strains her ears, the fashionable girl can almost make out the strained creak of a too small bra over the gentle rumble of constant conversation that fills the building.
 
Likewise, leaning her head just over the edge of the glass display case, the pale girl catches sight her friend’s meatier than usual legs. They lead their way up to a pair of thick thighs and what Rarity can only assume is a truly tremendous backside, barely hidden from view by a flirty hemline that threatens to reveal that delightful vision to the world with each bounce the excitable girl makes.
 
Licking her suddenly dry lips, Rarity shakes her head and leans back as Pinkie finishes with her customer and moves over towards the display case again. Confident in her coming accusation, the taller of the two gives a gentle, throat clearing cough and stares into the bright blue eyes of her companion.
 
“You did it, didn’t you?”
 
The slight paling of Pinkie’s cheeks is all that Rarity needs to know. But the baker tries to cover it up any way with a shake of her hand. “Did, did it? What are you talking about Rarity?” Add in a nervous laugh for good measure, and the shifty eyes. Oh yes, she knows exactly what she’s done, the naughty girl! With a lick of her hair, Rarity places her hand on the display and leans over.
 
“You’ve-”
 
“Don’t touch the glass, please.”
 
The two girls stare at one another for a long moment, each wearing the straightest face they can manage. Like Rarity, Pinkie’s plump lips form a loose ‘o’ shape when slack so the thick, soft flesh tends to stick out slightly when she’s serious, but the hot pink coloration is far more demanding of attention than Rarity’s own gentle glossing. After a few seconds, she removes her hand, and Pinkie leans forward with a rag, quickly wiping it clean. As she settles back on her heels behind the counter, Rarity begins again.
 
“You’ve been using your magic.”
 
Another flash of wide-eyed surprise, accompanied this time by a deep gasp, but Pinkie doesn’t rush to deflect afterwards. Instead, she adopts a sheepish smile, biting down on her lower lip and casting her eyes towards the ground. Provided she can see beyond her shelf of a chest, of course. “Well, maybe a little?”
 
Ha! And here Rarity had been afraid that her mother thinking circles around her was a sign of her own mind slowing down, but she hasn’t lost a step! Leaning over the counter again, Rarity places her face close to Pinkie’s and smiles.
 
“I think you should take a break, darling; that way you can tell me all about it.”
 
That is all the now trembling Pinkie Pie needs to hear. She dips into the back and, after a brief exchange, hurries back out. Rarity waits patiently, but as she turns to follow her friend, something else catches her eye. Two somethings actually, and they’re absolutely enormous.
 
“So good to see you again Rarity,” Mrs. Cake smiles, a bright, beautiful thing, but the teen can’t pull her eyes away from the matronly woman’s immense cleavage. The baker-owner doesn’t seem to mind in the least, even giving her chest a gentle shake as she shrugs. “Can I get you the usual milkshake?”
 
Rarity attempts to sputter a no for a few moments before Cup Cake laughs and puts in the order anyway. Unable to process her thoughts, Rarity quickly turns towards her friend and frowns. “I hope you have time for a very long break, Pinkie.”
 
“Uh oh,” the plucky teen grins, appearing far less embarrassed than she probably ought, “sounds like I got some ‘splanin to do!”
 
“Indeed you do,” Rarity says, settling down next to her friend on one of the plush, overstuffed seats. “Now dish.”
 
Pinkie snuggles up next to her, taking Rarity’s hand in both of hers and sandwiching her arm between her sizeable breasts. The fashion-minded teen trembles a little at the wonderfully unexpected contact, giving her friend time to begin her story.
 
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Cake were having a little disagreement, and I was in the middle of it because Mr. Cake wasn’t comfortable with me having toys laying around, but Mrs. Cake said it was totally normal for girls my age. Things were really awkward; even though I know they were just trying to figure out how we could all live together comfortably, but I felt awful about it. So I thought that things might be easier if I gave them just a pinch of magic.”
 
“Both of them? And a pinch?” Rarity asks, raising an eyebrow as she glances to the beyond curvaceous woman standing behind the counter. “Darling, if a pinch did that to Mrs. Cake, her husband must now need a wheelbarrow to walk around.”
 
Pinkie Pie bites down on the corner of her lip and giggles. “Well, maybe not a wheelbarrow…”
 
The pale designer’s jaw drops. “Pinkie, you didn’t actually-” she falls quiet as her friend’s head bobs in barely contained excitement. Wetting her lips, Rarity chooses her next question carefully. “So, including Twilight’s brother, that makes two men it’s worked on. Are the effects very noticeable?”
 
“Are they ever,” the dreamy-eyed baker smiles, her eyes glazing over. “Oh Rarity, it feels so good to touch him, like running your fingers over a washboard.” A small laugh escapes her lips. “And Mrs. Cake? She says we have to call him ‘Beef Cake’ in the bedroom; how funny is that!”
 
“Yes.” Rarity gulps, fanning herself at the thought of the slim twig in her memory transitioning into a hulking mass of muscle. “That, ah, is quite the clever play on his name.” Another pause, and another question arises. “But, we?”
 
Momentarily distracted from her daydreams, Pinkie glances back at her friend. “We what?”
 
“You said ‘we’ dear,” Rarity responds, a slight chiding tone in her voice. Reaching out, she brushes a bit of drool away from the corner of her friend’s mouth with a napkin. “When referring to, ahem, Beef Cake? In the bedroom?”
 
“Well if you’d let me finish my story, you would have known already,” Pinkie replies with a bat of her eyes, her tone just teasing enough to cause the fashionista’s face to twitch. “But after the magic worked its magic, apparently Mr. and Mrs. Cake thought it would be a great idea for me to sleep in their great. Big. Bed.” Pinkie punctuates the last three words with appropriate pauses, leaning in closer until her supple chest envelops all of Rarity’s upper arm as she whispers into her ear. “But we didn’t do any sleeping…”
 
The somewhat snobbish slut shudders as she bites down on her lip and squirms in her seat, mumbling to herself, “Oh, oh dear. That is quite what I was afraid of.”
 
“I know.” There’s a cheerful, girlish giggle that follows the rather plain admission. Pinkie fans her Rarity’s face gently with her own hand, seeing as she has a weighty grip on the pale girl’s arm. “But oh, Rarity, it was amazing. I felt like Mrs. Cake was smothering my whole body with her breasts, and with Mr. Cake it was like being a cream-filled pastry.” Finally releasing her friend’s arm, Pinkie makes a show of rubbing her slightly plump belly for emphasis. “I was totally full to bursting.”
 
As Rarity’s face, shoulders and chest continue down the scale towards boiled lobster red, Pinkie can’t help but smile. It’s very clear that the often stern girl is frustrated by her explanation, but seeing the mixture of aggravation and arousal rumble through her body, unable to fully express itself out of Rarity’s desire to be at least a little ladylike, is well worth the work. Licking her increasingly dried lips several times in quick succession, the paler of the pair all but moans, “A-And you?”
 
“What about me?’ Pinkie asks in a low, almost secretive voice. She knows well enough what it is that Rarity’s implying, but watching her squirm is simply too much fun.
 
Still struggling to tread water, Rarity gets a brief reprieve when Mrs. Cake approaches with her milkshake. The plainly pudgy proprietor smiles at the two girls, leaving without a word, but her presence is enough to pull Rarity out of the wonderfully pink haze that Pinkie’s been putting up in her brain. Taking a moment to cool down, she sucks away on her straw, fixing the jovial girl with a small pout.
 
“Yes, dear,” she finally says, the cool refreshment chilling her face and throat as confidence wells up again in her chest, “what happened to you?”
 
“Oh this?” as if the frizzy-haired girl could sound any less interested in her now bulging bustline and almost chubby-curves. “I helped myself to one of the cupcakes that I baked for them.”
 
Rarity takes another sip, struggling to keep her cool as she continues her questioning. “One cupcake did all that? Darling, how much magic did you put in there?”
 
The baker-to-be shrugs, offering a goofy smile. “I dunno, it’s kind of hard to keep track of how much is flowing out of you.” Her friend opens her mouth to speak again, but Pinkie holds up a finger. “But you’re wrong; it wasn’t a cupcake, it was a bite of a cupcake.”
 
“Gracious.”
 
“I know, right? I’m squishier now,” Pinkie says with a giggle, prodding her starter belly through her apron and giving a happy sigh. “And trying to fit into anything is a lot of fun too; oh, can I come by the Boutique later and get my new measurements done?”
 
“I suppose, wandering around in clothing too small must be terrible, so-” Rarity begins before her mind snaps out of its increasingly common rambling state. The Boutique, of course! Forgetting her milkshake for the moment, she grabs Pinkie by the shoulders and fixes the bubbly bimbo with the most serious stare she can manage. “Pinkie, you said that you baked cupcakes?”
 
Eyes wide, the baker can only nod and grunt in the affirmative, “Mhmm.”
 
“And they made the Cakes into a pair of lusty swingers?”
 
Well that was a little rude, even if it is true. So again, Pinkie bobs her head.
 
“And it solved the conflict?”
 
Even if she isn’t aware of it, the gears in Pinkie’s head begin to turn and a frown dances across her lips as she answers for the third time, “Yup.”
 
What a convenient turn of events! Rarity can’t help but grin as her fingers cling to her friend’s softer shoulders. “Well that is wonderful news, dear, because I am in desperate need of a solution to an issue with Mother, tout suite.”
 
“Oh.” The response is uncharacteristically flat, Pinkie’s expression deepening to a frown as she glances back towards the counter. Mrs. Cake is standing there, in all her bountiful glory, smiling as the customers get their orders and move towards the door or a seat. Pressing her lips together as best she can, the frizzy-haired girl sighs and looks back to her friend. “I don’t really know about that, Rarity; I mean this is some really powerful magic, and if we’re not careful we might end up making a huge mistake that Twilight has to try and untangle for us.”
 
“Pish and posh, darling,” Rarity responds with a wave of her hand. “We’re both well aware that Twilight’s given us more or less free reign to do as we wish with the magic, and you’ve already had a rousing success with the Cakes, right?”
 
Staring down at the table, Pinkie can only bob her head. True enough, the results of the Cake experiment have gone above and beyond her expectations, but it’s still incredibly difficult to gauge how much of the magic she’s using while baking, and how it will ultimately manifest itself.
 
“Yeah, but your mom could totally end up a total airhead,” the baker says with a frown. “I’m not really sure that we should be using magic to solve our problems. I mean, what if we’ve just been getting lucky so far?”
 
“Twilight says that it’s okay, so I’m inclined to default to her in instances such as these. Now please,” Rarity says with a small smile as she reaches down and squeezes Pinkie’s hands in her own, “won’t you help me resolve this issue with Mother by making her just like us?”
 
For a moment, Pinkie nearly loses her cool. The prospect of turning yet another woman into certifiable sex on legs has her brain firing off all sorts of delightful sensations, spurring her onward. It is far worse than the easily acceptable prospect of giving the Cakes a little nudge towards tighter, hotter bodies; now the feeling has grown into almost a need. The desire to give Rarity’s mother a nudge down her daughter’s path is almost overwhelming.
 
But she steadies herself and resists the urge to go all in on the idea. Taking a deep breath, the baker tries one last time to dissuade her friend, though her tactics take on an entirely different bent.
 
“Aw, but what if it doesn’t work?” she asks, earning a confused frown from her friend. “Not the magic, because I know the magic will make her really, really hot; but what if whatever you two are fighting about doesn’t get fixed because you’re a little bit more alike now? I mean, is it even sex related?”
 
Rarity’s expression darkens a little as she glances away. “Well, no. It’s in regards to a business venture. I need some additional funding and support, but Mother is proving difficult.”
 
“Yeah, how is your mom becoming a slutty MILF going to solve that?” Rarity doesn’t say anything, but the silence is certainly an opening large enough for Pinkie to squeeze her own suggestion in. “I have another idea, one that’s a lot less roundabout.”
 
The fashionista raises an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Which is?”
 
“Listen,” Pinkie whispers, leaning in close and murmuring in her friend’s ear, “I still have almost all of the cupcake I sampled with the Cakes. I put it away in case I wanted to have it later, but I haven’t done anything with it yet. It’s probably a little crusty by this point, but what if I gave you the rest of it?”
 
With a scowl, Rarity shakes her head. “Pinkie, I’m not quite clear on what you’re suggesting.”
 
“I’m saying, what if the cupcake could make you a little older,” the frizzy-haired girl murmurs, her hot breath causing Rarity’s ear to tingle a little as she begins to breathe a little heavier. “If you were say twenty-five, or thirty or so, you wouldn’t need to depend on your mom to do all this for you, right?”
 
Rarity’s cheeks color as she coughs a few times. “That, ah, is a very interesting thought Pinkie, but why would I-”
 
“Why wouldn’t you?” Pinkie’s voice is insistent, almost demanding; it’s enough to send a tremor down Rarity’s spine. “Thin about it Rarity, you could be walking around town, the owner of your own business and doing whatever you please, all at the cost of a few years and a little bit of this.” She brings her hand down to the pale girl’s flat stomach, tapping it twice before pushing her larger breasts out in response. “But you also get these in return.”
 
Despite her reluctance, the best that Rarity can manage is an audible gulp. On some level, the offer is very appealing, especially considering that she would no longer be accountable to her mother. Even still, it takes a few seconds for her to work up an excuse. “But, well, I’d be all alone dear. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
 
Pinkie’s breath moves to the fashionista’s slender neck, sending a fresh wave of shivers down Rarity’s spine as her friend’s line of thought continues without missing a beat. “You don’t want to be alone? Maybe I could bake another batch and we could eat them all together. I know we aren’t quite as close to each other as we are with some of the other girls, but if we’re both busty, chubby MILFs together that would be okay, right?”
 
In the time it takes Rarity to catch her breath and work up a response, Pinkie has already barreled on ahead. “And then, we could trick the other girls into eating them too so they can be just like us. That would be fun, right?”
 
Would it ever. Rarity quickly shakes her head to rid herself of the thought. Pulling her hands away from Pinkie’s rather loose grip, she takes hold of the milkshake and drinks the rest of it. With her head on at least somewhat straight again, she looks at her friend and smiles.
 
“While that does sound like a fascinating opportunity, I think it would be best if we both enjoy our youth while we have it. After all, wouldn’t it be a shame to go through with the whole process and then feel as though we missed out on something?”
 
After a moment of thought, Pinkie bobs her head in agreement. She also shoots a nasty look at the milkshake, as though it is the ice cream’s fault that her brilliant MILF plan has fallen through. Which, it may very well be. As the two girls sit in silence, Pinkie drops back into her seat and smiles, “So, what are you planning?”
 
“Something relatively simple, though if it works, I’m inclined to try a few other things,” the successful slut says with a shifty smirk. “Listen carefully Pinkie, this is what I need from you…”