Gingerbread Ponies by Anon

 

https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/42842888/#42973271

 

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The Cutie Mark Crusaders were hoof-deep in gingerbread and icing. They were making gingerbread houses at Sweetie Belle's non-gingerbread house. Cookie Crumbles supervised. The younger Belle filly invited her friends over, with parental permission of course, for a fun-filled day over the Hearthswarming Break. Hondo Flanks lazed in his la-zee-pon-ee and settled in for a 6 hour hoofball mare-a-thon.

 

Cookie asked Scootaloo

>Be gentle with the icing and keep the slop on the cloth, kiddo.

 

Scootaloo would nod in agreement, rattle off a

>Yes'm!

 

and seem to be a good filly for a while. But soon enough she was whacking the rear of the icing bag, and goop was getting everywhere.

 

Her daughter was better-behaved. Sometimes Cookie politely asked her and Scoots to quiet down and not scream so much, but they're fillies. It comes with the territory.

 

It went pretty well. The fillies were getting older. They had their cutie marks, somehow matching and appearing on their flanks at the exact same time. Cookie fell over when she saw Sweetie's flank. Her squeaky-voiced cutie-patootie got a lot of hugs and kisses that night. Cookie was grateful for the chance to have a night in with the fillies. There can't be too many more of these, she figured. High school would be a nightmare, and if Rarity and herself were the template, Sweetie Belle was going to need some sense knocked into her several times before graduation.

 

Cookie would periodically check in on the hoofball games. The Colts were up 14-6 and the Thoroughbreds just won an upset against their rivals the Cloudsdale Thunder. That game was so exciting, COOKIE was the one screaming, shouting, and stamping. Her daughter teased her after the game, but even she came over to watch the last 60 seconds.

 

>Great work on the houses, girls. What do you want to do with them?

>EAT IT!

>SHOW IT TO RAINBOW DASH!

>PUT IT ON THE MANTLE!

 

Covering her ears, Cookie replied:

>Whatever you goofballs decide. Do you want to show Hondo?

 

>YEAH!!!!

>It's okay Crusaders, we aren't goin' deaf yet. They should putcha in the front row for the Thoroughbreds, betcha cheer louder than the indecent mares dey got.

 

Hondo pulled himself off the pon-ee chair.

 

>WOW! Are ya girls sure you aren't architects? Or pastry chefs? You're gettin' lessons from Cookie. All this for me?

He grabbed Scootaloo's house and held it up to his gaping mouth.

>DAAAAAAD! We made 'em, they're for us!

>Yeah Mr. Flanks, they're ours!

>Ahrs!

>Not even a crumb? A gumdrop for Pop?

>UGH fine you dork. Here.

 

Sweetie popped off a gumdrop from the very back of the roof decorations.

 

>A sweetie from Sweetie, thanks Shug. How much dazzleberry-filled drops do we have? Did Cookie already get what she needed?

 

Cookie's ears went down.

 

>You didn't use the special dazzleberry drops, didja Sweetie Bear?

Sweetie blushed and drooped her ears.

>Heh-heh, don't they look great on it?

>Sweetie Belle, you knew I was saving those for the sewing circle. They were in the pie safe.

>Ooops.

>Oh well. A tin horseshoe still gets ya there. Regular gumdrops are just as good, and it's the sewing circle, not the Trot Mahal.

 

Cookie ruffled Sweetie's mane, then gave her a pop to the rump.

>"Next time, ask me. Let me get the camera before you chomp it down."

 

Walking away, Cookie stopped and looked at her hoof.

>Sweetie Tutz, you're the only filly I know who gets her mane messy making gingerbread houses. After you eat I'll getcha spick and span.

 

Camera in hoof, Cookie said:

>Say "FUZZY APPLES!"

>FUZZY APPLES!!!

The fillies smiled and laughed as Cookie took photos of the event.

>Do you girls want to share mine?

Their eyes shimmered.

>WOULD WE?

The girls brought their heads close together and chowed down. Cookie captured the cuteness on film. The girls munched cheek to cheek. They got even stickier, but it was fine-- they were all due for a shower.

 

>Now girls, I don't wanta three times get ya twice cleaned, so if you ain't eating them now, I'd rather send ya home with your houses than get ya unstickied just for you to get all filthy again. Capiche?

>Capiche!

>Good good. Stay put, I'll get some rags for "PHASE ONE."

Cookie said that like it would be a big project.

 

Cookie wet down some rags and came back to the table.

>I'll take the houses and put them somewhere safe. Sweetie, your plate is licked clean, can I put it in the sink?

>Mhm!

 

>Ope!

The mare stepped in something. It was a trail of frosting leading halfway across the room, up the tablecloth, and straight to the roof of "4140 Cloudhopper Lane," Scootaloo's gingerbread house apparently next door to Rainbow's home.

>Scootaloo must have had a lot of fun making this.

>M-hm!

Wiping down her own hoof, Cookie continued:

>And Scoots, you DO remember me telling you to be gentle with the frosting? It's 8 bits a bag, hun.

>Oh... right. I'll be careful next time.

>Here, take the rag and wipe down the floor so nopony gets crusty going up the stairs.

Scoot saluted.

>Sure thing, Mrs. Crumbles!

Scoot bent over and worked her front hooves over the trail of frosting on the floor. Her purple tail was raised above an inviting target...

 

WHACK!

 

It was just Cookie's motherly hoof, but that motherly hoof knew how to spank an ornery backside.

 

>Yipe!

Her friends giggled as Scootaloo briefly rubbed her backside with her free hoof.

>The two-a-yuh should listen to Mrs. Crumbles more.

 

Cookie smiled. Out of the mouths of babes. At least one of these kiddos knew her hiney was connected to her brain..

 

Cookie shook her spank-hoof in disgust, looking at it.

>Scootaloo, you too! How does your butt get sticky making gingerbread houses? Get your friends to clean it up in the shower. Tell ya what kids, getcher hooves wiped off and ya can scoot upstairs. I'll get the rest.

 

Apple Bloom wiped off her hooves, then stood at the intersection of the stairway and the TV room. She was engrossed in the game. The Colts were tied in the last quarter. Sweetie Belle and Scoots moseyed around her, heading slowly up the stairs.

 

>Apple Bloom, you too. Get your fanny up there.

>But ah didn't get dirty! Mah mane'n everything is clean. I wiped mah hooves!

She stamped her back hoof in a show of defiance.

 

SMACK! Her Apple Bottom was quickly reintroduced to Cookie's hoof.

>Yer gettin' cleaned up and that's final, young lady. I can't send ya to Granny Smith all filthy.

Bloomy frowned and headed up the stairs behind her friends.

>But ah'm not dirty...

>Do I need to get my manebrush?

Cookie sparked her horn.

>NO MA'AM!

The three fillies scampered up to the shower, racing to be the farthest from the threat, as if the words left her mouth and became physical objects chasing them upstairs.

 

Cookie's shower was among the finest in Ponyville. The one at the lake was huge, but public. Impossible to relax in. Filthy Rich's was better, but the fillies didn't know that. So to them it was the most luxurious shower in the whole world.

 

It was an entire walk-in room that could take two full-size ponies, or a gaggle of fillies. Cookie loved her showers, and when Rarity ended up not needing most of her college fund, Cookie gave most of it to Rarity and splurged the rest. Her girlfriend Barn Door from her sewing circle told her it would add to the value of her home if she ever sold it.

 

The room was entirely waterproof, in the Neighpon style. There was a toilet and sink in the corner, and the rest of the room was tile, two shower heads, and a couple drains. Hondo cared about none of it except the ventilation system. "Go up two sizes so we don't get mold," he insisted.

 

The girls turned on the water and got cleaned up. 20 minutes later they were gently playing in the water. No problem, they had permission from Cookie.

 

There was a knock on the door. Sweetie knew to turn off the water.

 

Cookie came in, closing the door behind her.

>Hi girls. Startin' to see how you get filthy making gingerbread houses. I reckon you are about finished?

>Yes Mrs. Crumbles.

 

The fillies were oddly formal...

 

>Let me give ya the once-over...

She brought her hooves through Sweetie's mane and found it was no longer sticky.

>Sweetie Belle, check, y'can dry off.

She gave her a little pat on the bottom.

 

Scootaloo followed her.

>Scootaloo, not so fast, didn't you ask anypony to clean you up?

The scamp nervously laughed.

>Hold still I'll take care of ya.

With a bar of fancy-ish soap applied to Scootaloo's rear end, Cookie Crumbles rinsed her off and cleaned her up.

>Scoots, check. Can't have Lofty calling me a slob in the sewing circle...

She, too, got an approval pat.

 

>Apple Bloom... Seriously!? You really must not've kno-own. You have cinnamon on your barrel honey.

Apple Bloom reflexively went away from the mare and her stream of warm water. Not deliberately disobeying, but her subconscious not making things easy.

>Were you raised in a--? Get OVER here, child...

Cookie's horn patted a bathbrush into Bloomy's rump with conviction, directing her closer with pressure applied until she got in reach.

Then an unyielding, no nonsense shampoo wash-down, then another bathbrush pat to send her on her way. Both pats were firmer than strictly necessary.

 

"Go and join Hondo. He might let you pick whatcha watch if ya ask nicely. Keep yer butts FAR away from the gingerbread houses and the pie safe if you know what's good for ya. Be down in a few."

 

And so, the fillies dried off, and joined Hondo Flanks, and had a lazy late afternoon. They asked to turn on a movie mare-a-thon, and Hondo obliged, partly because the Farriers stunk tonight... as always.

 

They had a nice peaceful dinner and settled in for a watch of How the Griffinch Stole Hearth's Warming Eve! Hondo explained the backstory as the opening credits rolled:

 

>This is a classic, Crusaders. When Cookie and I were your age, it was the most amazing thing. They played it 20 times and with only two channels ya had to watch it or Ponanza. It's not like today where there's seven channels and arcade games.

>The filmmaking is superb. It won an Equy for tha split screens. I'll tell ya when they come on. One thing I want ya girls to know, though:

>There's no such thing as a "Griffinch." 'sa pretend mix of a Griffon and a finch head. But some-a what the Griffinch does is a caricature. Like a clown. Idiot ponies say griffons are like that. It's racist and wrong. Griffons are nothing like this movie and they've never stolen Hearth's Warming Eve. But as long as you know it's made-up, 'sa lot of fun. Understand?

>Mmm.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders were already cuddled under the blanket, watching the trippy picture-book effects. Hondo and Cookie kept their hooves on each other's shoulders, protecting the fillies below. Soon Hondo was mimicking the deep voice of the narrator,

>Every Which down in Whichville liked Hearth's Warming Eve...

>Dad! SHH!

>(sorry)

 

Cookie's favorite part came on and she mocked a gasp.

>HUH! Not the roast beast!

She tickled the fillies under her protective forcefield as they laughed.

 

...

 

The Crusaders had their minds expanded with this classic film and corresponding trivia from Hondo. Not one of them was sitting on a sore rump. They drifted off quietly. When the storm finally cleared, Auntie Lofty came and gently woke Scootaloo, and soon Big Mac retrieved Apple Bloom. Sweetie slept so soundly under her blanket she didn't wake till morning.

 

THE

END