Pink Socks

 

"Warning, the doors are closing. The next station is Horsetown", - sounded from the hoarse speakers inside the train. As usual, I took the place closest to the exit and leaned against the back. The carriage was half empty, which is wonderful. The ponies sitting next to me did not seem to even notice me - everyone was staring at their smartphones. Foals, young Colts and fillies, and even older ones: some of them reading news sites, some watched ponytube, some played games. I looked out the window at the houses and trees sweeping by. Flakes of snow fell from the sky, which settled on the window and instantly melted. The windows themselves were covered with condensation, which is why they had to hold them several times with a glove in order to at least make out something. It seemed that just a couple of years ago I was returning home from the factory on the same train. But then the house was different, and the world ... and I was different. I glanced at myself: I am now wearing a winter coat, a soft sweater, underneath them bulging out an massive breasts. On my legs I have winter boots and down pants, and under them are cotton tights. They gently envelop my legs, warming me and giving me some strange pleasure. It seems like it took two years to get used to it, but damn it, how nice it is to wear all these things. Again and again I realize this, and this awareness does not weaken, does not erode and does not dull.

 

"Horsetown Station. The next one is Silversite"- I didn't even notice how I got there. Taking my purse and shopping bags, I got off the train and headed for the house. Snow-white snow crunched under my feet, fussy anthroponies ran about their business: someone towards, someone - in the direction of my movement. I walked with a calm and moderate step, savoring every crunch, every snowflake that melted on my nose, which is why passers-by sometimes overtook me, then accidentally hit me with a shoulder. It was already dark outside, the lights were on. Under one of them, I stopped and froze, looked up. The snowflakes, illuminated by the bright light, circled around like magic moths and fascinated my girlish heart. It seems that once upon a time I saw something similar. I took off my glove and saw my hand. Thin fingers with well-polished nails, a wedding ring on the ring finger. I touched my head: I have a pony years, mane, elongated muzzle, big eyes - I'm still a mare. Or not? I took out my documents from my purse: "Heartsee Times. Date of birth: 17 Snowfall 4057". The photo shows my face and the seal of the Antroquestria recording bureau. It is, this is not a dream. I exhaled contently, removed the documents and walked on. Sometimes I get such euphoria that it seems like it's a fantasy or a very good dream: well, everything cannot be so good! Fortunately, every time I am convinced that this is not so, that this is all for real. As I said, I never managed to get used to my new life. And this is wonderful, because it allows me to rejoice in the fact that sometimes the local ponies do not even notice: such snow-white snow, such clean air and such a cheerful atmosphere.

 

- Heartsee, dear! - someone called me from behind. - I wonder what a girl drags such huge packages!

 

- Mrs. Wondertales, good evening. Happy hearth's warming eve.

 

- You too, my dear, - an old mare with a gray mane approached and hugged me. - Do you miss our library? - Oh yes, the library. How did I not immediately understand?

 

- It depends on what you want to hear. I love to read books, but to return - no way! I found my calling in a different role, so our paths went our separate ways.

 

- You were the most well-read worker. And you are worked with me the longest time, - that's for sure. Smiles's Bar, on the outskirts of Horstown, even has a rating board. They say that those who last the longest with the grumpy old Wondertales are poured for free. Of course, I was not there by myself, but my friends tell me that my photo is still on the first line. - Come back, dear. Now everything will be different.

 

- No, Mrs. Wondertales, I am absolutely not going to return. Now, if you please ...

 

- I understand. Do not be mad at me. You and I were both wrong that day. - The old woman looks at my packages. - You must be in a hurry. I dare not detain you.

 

I nodded approvingly and walked on. Not that I was angry with this mare, but I had no desire to return to this place. Moreover, after what she said then.

 

And here is the house. I go up to my floor, get my keys and open the door. My husband, the Quirky Times, meets me right there from the doorway. He returned a long time ago, as he was dressed at home, and his mane was wet and styled.

 

- Happy hearth's warming eve, dear. Quirk put his arms around me and then kissed me hard on the lips.

 

- Happy hearth's warming eve, hubby! I barely carried it ... - I took out a massive box from the bag, hastily tied with a ribbon and handed it to my husband.

 

- "ZY Andromeda" DIY kit? Darling, how did you know that I dreamed of it? - Quirk put the box in the hallway and helped me take off my outerwear.

 

- Well… I'll keep it as my little secret. - He really did not understand how a mare so far from IT could acquire such a rare system. And the answer is very simple: every geeky IT collector licks his lips on this computer, my beloved is just one of them. Target advertising works in the same way as on Earth, and I still have some specific knowledge from my past life. Of course, I hide them from my husband in every possible way in order to avoid unnecessary questions, but now they are more useful to me than ever.

 

- Oh, I get it. You found out from Smash, - my husband stuck out his thumb and forefinger and pointed at me, - clever, very clever! He must be like “Andromeda? Huh! Nopony can find them in our time. Don't waste your time on this, girl!" He'll choke on his fruit tea when I send him a picture! - In the meantime, I sat down on a shoe rack and, finally, took off my boots. I already physically felt my feet thank me for a breath of fresh air. - Honey, you just change your clothes, and I will prepare my present for you. I have not forgotten! - with these words and parts of the retrocomputer, Quirk retired into the living room.

 

I chuckled and walked into the bedroom. After walking in the cold it seems as if I was in a steam room. The muzzle with the ears burned especially strongly. “Heck me! Original case! Honey, you are wonderful!" - came from the living room. Once in front of the closet, I untied the cords on my pants and freed myself from them. Taking off my sweater, I looked at the growth mirror. It reflected a young mare with dark cream skin and a beaver-colored mane (again electrified by the sweater, ahhhh!) And a tail. She was wearing a pink bra and winter black pantyhose, under which she could see the same pink panties and a cutie mark on her thigh in the form of a burning heart. A bushy tail peeked out of a special hole in the tights. I posed a little in front of the mirror, then freed my already sweaty legs from the pantyhose. It seems, just a little more, and steam would go from them. Then I took off my bra and panties, threw them, as the tights, in a basket of dirty laundry, wrapped in a towel and went to the shower.

 

I carefully wiped off all my makeup with wet wipes, hung up the linen with a towel and went into the bath. Hot water hit me in the muzzle. By adjusting the mixer, I achieved a comfortable temperature and closed the curtain, bending its ends into the bath. Quirk hates puddles and foam-splashed walls. And I really love to splashing, I can’t help myself. At first we coped with a rug, but it had to be wrung out and dried after each bath, otherwise it would stink and stink. Ugh! But you don't need to wash the curtain. At least not as often as myself. All existing higher powers, bless the manufacturers of bathroom curtains! I took a washcloth, lathered it up and went all over my body, paying special attention to the most intimate parts of it. Be a mare is means always to be beautiful. A well-groomed mane, a beautiful tail, cosmetics specially selected for my skin tone and a pleasant smell - all this should be on me every day, without exception, because my stallion deserves all the best. I opened a bottle of shampoo, poured a small amount onto my hand, lather and applied it to the mane, rubbing thoroughly and then rinsing. I did the same with my tail. Yes, doctors say that you need to wash your hair twice, but something tells me that I will come back here today. Turning off the water and getting out of the bath, I carefully wiped myself off with a towel and wrapped myself in it, another - wrapped around my head. I put on my slippers and leave the bathroom. Quirk is waiting for me in the bedroom, and next to him, on the bed, is a dress. Heck my plot, is this really it?

 

- My gift is not as expensive as yours, but I hope you like it.

 

- Are you kidding? - I take the dress in my hands and apply it to me. This hem, this color, this neckline - it seemed to be sewn under me. - It's perfect!

 

- I remember how you looked at it in the store. Sweety, - Quirk touches my cheek and looks into my eyes, - it's midnight soon. I want you to wear this dress tonight. Change your clothes, I'll set the table.

 

I can't believe he did it; this dress is worth two of his monthly salaries. Using a hair dryer, I quickly dried my mane and tail and combed my hair. Then I put on clean underwear, nylon pantyhose and my new dress. I look in the mirror - I can't get enough of it. How beautiful I am in this outfit! The hem drops just below my knees, the cut accentuates my hips with the waist, and the neckline makes my breasts look bigger - just as I love. Any filly loves when clothes emphasize all her charms. I put on my best earrings, a pearl necklace, high heels, take out my makeup bag and do a little preening: I tint my eyelashes and lips. A drop of perfume - perfect.

 

Leaving the bedroom, I see Quirk, who is finishing the final preparations: the table in the living room is already set and is bursting with an abundance of dishes. Himself beloved with the words "One minute!" ran into the bedroom, where he quickly began to change into a shirt, trousers and, apparently, also deciding to dress up, perfumed himself with cologne. The smell immediately spread throughout the apartment. To be honest, I don't like this smell - it smells like a herringbone in a car. But this is my special pony's favorite scent - so I'll okay with this. While my husband was getting ready, I sat down at a table and turned on the TV. What is being shown there now? Good old comedy movies? Films about hearth's warming eve, the plot of which we can recite by heart. What else is there? The choir of foals sings about the victory over the Wendigo, the invited celebrities are not funny jokes, every ten minutes they run an advertisement where happy anthroponies drink Spark Soda (trademark blah-blah-blah) and invite you to celebrate the holiday the same way. It seems that something in this universe never changes. Unless, it looks here it is not so fake and even a little nice.

 

Half an hour is left until the hearth's warming eve. Quirk emerged from the kitchen with a corkscrew and a bottle of sparkling drink.

 

- Didn't you miss me? - the husband uncorked the bottle and poured the champagne into glasses.

 

- I watched TV. You look great, honey. I even polished the horn, oh là là, - I crossed my legs, took a glass and, clinking glasses, drank a little.

 

- And how you look, Heartsee! Will you tell me what such a beauty found in me?

 

- As if you yourself do not know, shy one. - while hubby was embarrassed, I emptied a plate of salad and was already putting in the additive. - You remember our first meeting?

 

- How can I forget her, dear. I did not sleep for several days then. You may not believing, but at first sight I fell in love with you.

 

- Right from the first one, huh? Or when I got kicked from work because of you?

 

- When you brought me books, honey. But I still can't believe they did this to you.

 

We clinked glasses again. Just think, two years have passed. It seemed that only yesterday I, recently transformed, decided to kill two birds with one stone: to earn money, and to study this world from local books. The salary was small, but it was enough for a modest life. And I was also given a room right in the library building, where I read, read and read all night long. On one of these nights, a stallion stayed with me. He could barely stay on his feet, but continued to taking books on the shelves, carefully read and copied some points in his notebook. According to the rules, I was supposed to show him out and lock the library with a key, but I didn't. Instead, I found the books he was looking for, brought them to him and even made us coffee. Later it turned out that his future depended on that night: Quirky had to complete an important project in a very short time, the literature for which was only here. The night was very productive: for a whole week after it I received candies and flowers from this stallion. That same week, my "lovely" boss bother my mind and chased Quirk away whenever he appeared in the library. And when we met again, already under cover of night, she found us kissing between the bookshelves. Yes, that night I lost both my job and my rent home. But I got much more: Quirky Times invited me to live with him. Since then, a fairy tale has begun that, I hope, will never end. The apartment given to Quirk by his parents smelled of delicious food for the first time. The floors were perfectly cleaned, the dishes were polished to a shine, and in bed we finally became adult ponies. After some six months, I was already standing in a white dress and said the most important word in both my lives: “Yes!”.

 

Returning from deep thought, I discovered that I was already quite fed up and little drunk. The husband, apparently, too. On TV, the gray-haired pony has been talking for five minutes about the importance of friendship and love - all those things that hold Antroquestria. He wishes us a happy hearth's warming eve and disappears. Holiday songs begin to play on TV, and we pour the remnants of champagne into glasses and with the words "Happy Hearth's Warming!" we empty them. The sounds of fireworks are heard in the outside. Some stallion, apparently greatly delighted by this event, shouts to the whole street "HAPPY HOLIDAY, ANTHROQUESTRIAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Quirk takes my hand:

 

- Maybe we’re not going anywhere today, honey? You have such a wonderful dress, I would like to undress you personally. - I understood where everything was going, but from the words of my beloved stallion it sharply warmed between the legs.

 

- To be honest, I myself did not want to go anywhere, - I take off heels and touch husband with my foot, - and I am always ready for a bedtime.

 

- You are my sweety-sugar wifey... - Quirk left the table and took me in his arms - just like on the wedding day, and carried me into the bedroom.

 

There, on our bed, my husband kept his word: he gently opened the straps of my dress and pulled them down, and then completely threw the gift away. He bit into my lips with a passionate kiss, with his other hand he touched me between my legs, thrusting his fingers under my panties and tights. While he was caressing me, I unbuttoned his shirt and belt. “Who is my horny girl, huh?” Quirk said affectionately and completely undressed himself. Finally, I saw his huge blue horse cock. I ran my finger over his testicles, then along the base, finished with a tip and licked it. I could feel him waking up, stretching, pulsating, releasing salty precum. I felt the heat from the body of my man and his passion, ready at any moment to fall on me. I lay back and brought his penis under my bra. My husband liked it: he grabbed me by the boobs and, pressing them to each other, began to boobjob. When his balls touched my breasts, the tip of his penis reached my lips, which is why I managed to kiss it a couple of times and leave a lipstick spot. Quirk smiled slyly: he unbuttoned my bra and, freeing his cock, immediately inserted it into my mouth. At first, shallow, so that I could savor my beloved on my cheek. Then deeper and deeper, until I buried my nose in his belly, and the process itself began to give me discomfort. It is very difficult to take and learn to swallow such huge things right off the bat. The husband felt it and pulled out his stick.

 

- Everything is alright, my dear? - I cleared my throat hard.

 

- I can't do it yet...

 

- You’ll learn, - my beloved pets me.

 

He put me on his cock and grabbed my crotch with both hands. One sharp movement - and my tights, already wet in the crotch area, are torn, giving full access to my pussy. There he, ignoring my panties, inserts his already hard as a stone dick into me and begins to move his hips. Each time, feeling a horsecock throbbing with passion inside me, I get the same pleasure as the first time. I can feel his balls, I see a lump on my stomach, amazed at how deeply he has entered me. I can no longer hold myself back and moan with pleasure as loud as I can. Quirk enters courage and, without sticking out, gets up and lean me forward. Now I'm holding on to the wall while get fucked. My boobs bouncing with each new entry, and after each orgasm my legs give way, and I spew more and more liquid from myself.

 

- Well, don't flatter me, dear. This is the third time you came.

 

- Well, excuse me… aaaaahh… Mr. Sex Giant. I'm cumming as you you fucking me.

 

- That's my girl! I almost done…

 

- Mmm ... don't forget to pull out... - get fucked is undoubtedly very pleasant, but I don't want to make babies yes.

 

- Never forget, - fortunately Quirky doesn't like foals at all.

 

Immediately I felt a squirt of hot and viscous liquid hit my ass, back and even the back of my head. Then my husband put his cock on my pantyhose and cum even more right into them. He lay down on the bed and breathed out a sigh of relief while I licked the rest of his cum off his cock. Someone may call me a pervert, but I really like to savor and swallow a stallion sperm. Sometimes I myself climb into his pants and delight him with a blowjob. They say that this is a disease, addiction, perversion. But my husband and I feel great. Isn't this the main thing?

 

Finished my husband's "cocktail" to the end, I, as expected a couple of hours ago, return to the shower again. There I carefully, so as not to stain the floor, take off my tights, wipe the sperm from my ass and legs with them, and throw them directly into the trash bin. Then I pour water into the bath and wash myself fully, washing off the last remnants of male love with a soapy washcloth. Then I change the water and lie there for another half hour, soaking and enjoying the smell of special, aromatic salt. I'm not worried about my husband: he feels so good now that he will lie there for another hour without moving. Either he is so sensitive to sex, or I am such a good wife. It is more pleasant, of course, to choose second answer. I look at my cutie mark. A burning heart ... is it really my destiny to be a loving wife? The husband has a screwdriver on his plot - he is a greatest engineer. Even Mrs. Wondertales's cutie mark (do not think, I have not seen her naked. It's just new fashion in Antroquestria to imaging cutie marks on pants and skirts) depicted as a book, which defined her profession. And who am I by profession? A professional housewife learning deepthroat?

 

After draining the water, I turn on the shower and lather my head a second time; then I rinse myself and finally leave the bathroom. There I take out the second set of clean lingerie and dress. Quirk, noticing that I had already bathed, took a towel and also went to tidy himself up. I open the closet and take out my pajamas. Light yellow pants glide gently over my legs, then my still wet ponytail is passed through a special hole in the back. Then I put on the same color cotton blouse and open the drawer with legwear.

 

In addition to stockings, tights (which are the most for obvious reasons) and uppers, socks are kept in a separate section. Mmm, my socks are associated with the warmest, most romantic and most enjoyable non-sexual moments in our family life. My husband and I have such a tradition, or, if you will, an unwritten agreement: when one of us feels unwell or is in a bad mood, or just wants to spend time quietly and peacefully without sexual pleasures, then he puts on a pre-established clothing. Quirk has a vest in which his grandfather beats his plot. I always wear socks for such cases. I have almost as many of them as tights, about sixteen pairs. And they are all pink. And you don't need to roll your eyes: I'm a mare now, I can be so sissy!

 

I put on a pair of my favorite socks and pull out a hairdryer. I know that frequent hair drying is harmful, but I think not so fatal. While I was drying my mane with a tail, my beloved came up to me from behind, took me by the shoulders and kissed me on the cheek.

 

- Let's go watch a movie, baby, - I jerked, - or do you want to sleep?

 

- It depends on what kind of movie, - to be honest, I wasn't particularly interested in what kind of movie he would watch - I never liked the local cinema. I didn't really like that, the earthly one, but here, in Antroquestria, more or less serious genres seem to pass through all circles of censorship, becoming insipid and boring. Although, maybe I was so spoiled.

 

- “I can't bathe”, honey, - I'm even afraid to imagine what it is: a drama or a horror movie.

 

- Oh, do you want to bath with honey? - I turned off the hairdryer. My husband laughed and kissed my forehead.

 

- You are my honey, sweetheart. "I can't bathe" - it's the title. It's a political drama spiced with adventure and thriller. - I put the hair dryer away, pick up my present from the floor and hang it in the closet. - The Three Golden Alicorns are no joke. So?

 

- With you, dear - at least look at the paint on the wall, - Quirk, laughing, takes my hand and leads me into the living room, where he, the dearest stallion in my life, has already put things in order, removing our shoes and a table with chairs.

 

- Just promise not to fall asleep at least in the first half hour.

 

- I promise.

 

We lay down on the sofa: me in front, and Quirk, pressing his whole body against me, behind. Another terribly enjoyable moment that is still beyond my grasp: almost an hour ago, we fucked like animals. I sucked his dick, he lowered me like the last whore, squeezed boobs - in general, behaved like a legal husband. Now we lie together and watch a movie as if nothing was happening. Like sinless angels.

 

Hubby put his arm around me, placing his blue hand on my thin, dark cream colored hand. How different we are. I remember how mad his unicorn parents were, when he brought me to meet them. They said "She would spoil the whole dynasty with her earth pony blood," and called it "an orphan even without a surname." Quirk become angry at that moment. He was so furious that I already had to protect these snobs from their own son. I never saw Mr. and Mrs. Times again. It may be for the best I think. I took my husband's smooth, polished horn and kissed him hard on the lips.

 

- So, you are spoiled me, an orphan, with your juicy unicorn dick, huh? - Quirk laughed out loud.

 

- Remember mom and dad, dear? - the husband hugs me tighter. - I have not spoken to them since then...

 

- Aren't you going to write or something?

 

- Someday, hon, someday, - with these words he paused the movie, - I think they will even accept you after all. You so bravely hit my horn, so if I were my father, I would be grateful to you all my life.

 

- When you wanted to turn them into frogs?

 

- I don’t remember who I wanted to turn them into, but they would have paid dearly for offending my orphan ... you don’t take offense when I call you that?

 

- Of course not. I’m an real and fully orphan. I don't take offense at the truth. - Technically, this is certainly not truth. When your biological parents live in a different reality, and you don't even look like their son even from afar, it is much easier to say that you have no parents at all.

 

- That's my girl! - the husband kissed me on the cheek. - We have each other, and this is the most important thing. And you mean more to me than the entire Times family and all their country awards. And if necessary, - okay, this is weird now, - I am generally ready to give up my surname and their inheritance. At least tomorrow we will not be Times, but... uhhh... Spaces. Yes, Quirky Spaces.

 

- Stop saying that, - I grab my husband by the horn and kiss him again, - I love you madly, regardless of what family you belong to. I didn't marry your parents.

 

- Okay, honey, you're right. I'm just glad that I have you, and I want you to always remember this. I will not trade you for any good.

 

- Even on "ZY Andromeda" DIY kit?

 

- Even on it, baby. I'll take care of Andromeda tomorrow. We have half a month of holidays ahead of you, so get ready. I will teach you soldering and electronics.

 

- Okay, honey. Even with your permission, I will solder something by myself, - you will be surprised, hubby.

 

- Wonderful. - Quirk unpause the movie, and we continues to watch it.

 

I kept my word and have not slept for exactly half an hour since the beginning of the film. It doesn't matter that we talked and kissed for ten minutes out of thirty. Moreover, the gentle embrace of a special pony in itself nudges you to sleep. I close my eyes and begin to see my first dreams. Through a dream, i feel that mighty hands lift me and carry me into the bedroom, cover me with a blanket and stroke my ear. What's next? At the awakening - regular business of every good wife: stove, broom, mop, dishes, washing machine. Perhaps even a needle and thread if Quirk tore something again. This is how it will be all my life, as long as I live. I think I finally understood what my cutie mark means. A burning heart is not a sign of a profession or destiny, but what is in my chest. When I hear my husband complimenting my dinner after a hard working day, my heart triumphs. When we spend time together, hugging or holding hands, my heart skips a beat, wishing that these moments would never end. When the lips of my beloved touch mine, and our tongues become one, my heart lights up. And it illuminates, believe me, not only one soul.

 

Someone is born to be a leader. Someone is an artist. Someone is a hero. I was born to be the dearest and most loving mare for my stallion. And in the future, perhaps, the great mother for our foals. And I dreamed about it even then, being a man. Perhaps Quirk will someday find out my big secret. Perhaps he will, just as you learned about me, the orphan Heartsee, as well as about my life, about my feelings and the secret of pink socks.