[RGRE] Anon foalsits a big teaty goth gf


                                            We'll just keep this between you and me, alright pastebin?  It'll be our little secret.


                                            >Anon foalsits for a living

                                            >Usually younger ponies in grade-school age

                                            >The Crusaders, Diamond Tiara, etc

                                            >But one over-protective dad refuses to believe his daughter is growing up

                                            >Still packs her a lunch when she goes to horse-highschool

                                            >Kisses her on the cheek, waves to her friends, etc

                                            >He and the herd are going away for the weekend, and he insists that she needs a foalsitter

                                            >The herd disagrees, but if papa ain't happy, ain't nopony happy

                                            >"...and here's a list of things you can make her for dinner! The ingredients are in the fridge, and you'll find snacks in the pantry. Make sure she's in bed by 10 at the latest, alright?"

                                            "You got it, sir."

                                            >By the way the dad talks about his daughter, Anon was expecting a little filly

                                            >He was surprised, however, to find a teenaged mare probably only about 10 years younger than he is

                                            >She might even be a big teaty goth.

                                            >And she does not look happy to see him

                                            >Especially after Anon, slightly shocked that he's sitting somepony who's a few scant years away from being legally old enough to drink, uttered that he expected "someone younger"

                                            >Fortunately (or unfortunately) the job went incredibly smoothly

                                            >This is because the young mare was old enough that she didn't need a sitter

                                            >She kept to herself ("if you think we're playing Monopony, you're crazy."), made her own food ("oh my Celestia, let me do it. This is so embarrassing."), and didn't really need any of the services Anon offered.

                                            >Like, at all

                                            >The next morning, the mare's dad, of course, was thrilled at the results.

                                            >"She ate the dinner I had planned out for her! She didn't make a mess! She went to bed on time! Mister Anonymous, I think I'll be hiring you whenever the herd and I go out for the weekend!"

                                            >The dad walks over to the teenaged mare and sniffs her mane.

                                            >"Hmmm... next time, make sure she takes a bath. You know how fussy fillies can be, so help her wash her mane."

                                            >Anon had never seen a mare blush so hard he can see it through the fur

                                            ---------------

                                            >"Could we not do this?  Please?"

                                            >You are Anon, and you are at an impasse.

                                            >This mare's father clearly told you to make sure she takes a bath, and it's one of the conditions for you to get paid for this evening.

                                            >However, your client's daughter is a teenaged mare.  And you know from experience that these creatures don't bathe unless they have to, and they're somehow blissfully unaware that they sweat way more than they did a few years ago

                                            >You visited a horse-highschool one time, and the halls smelled like unwashed horse-body.

                                            "Look, it took me 15 minutes to even get you into the bathroom to wash up.  And that was when I promised to just stand guard outside.  How do I know you'll even take a bath while I'm out there?"

                                            >The mare sighs, irritated like many teens are.

                                            >"I don't even need a bath!  My dad's being dumb."

                                            >You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

                                            "I won't get paid unless I go through the entire list your dad left me, and 'make sure my filly takes a bath' is on that list."

                                            >The teen glares angrily at you for a few long seconds, then sits down on her rump so that she can cross her forelegs.

                                            >"Hmph.  This is dumb.  YOU'RE dumb.  I don't even have school until the day after tomorrow, why do I have to take a bath before bed?"

                                            >Oh, god.

                                            "Please don't make me do this."

                                            >It's not weird if they're, like, 11.

                                            >They're just fussy kids, and you break out the bath toys, and you keep them distracted while you wash their hair and make sure you don't get any shampoo in their eyes.

                                            >But this mare's about 16 or 17, and that's just a year or two away from being recognized as an adult.

                                            >You're pretty sure that it'll take more than bath toys to make this work.

                                            >But then again, desperate times call for desperate measures; and this mare is supposed to be in bed in half an hour.

                                            "Would it help if I had some little boats, or a rubber duck?"

                                            >"Yeah, no."

                                            >The mare immediately gets to her hooves and starts to trot out the bathroom door.

                                            >"I'm not doing this."

                                            >...seems you embarrassed her, Anon.

                                            "Oh, boy.  I didn't want to do this."

                                            >Time to break out your patented Fussy Toddler Maneuver.

                                            >Giving the mare no time to catch on to your wiles or run away, you quickly jog over to catch up with her, and you hook your arms around her barrel.

                                            >"Wh-What are you doing?!"

                                            >Wasting no time, you scoop the teenaged mare up and pull her back against your chest.

                                            >This works for Sweetie Belle all the time, and you're sure it'll work for this mare, too.

                                            >"Put me down!"

                                            >You spin on your heel and march back into the bathroom.

                                            "Nuh-uh.  I tried to let you do this on your own."

                                            >"Please, I'll do it!  I'll do it!"

                                            >Bullshit lies.

                                            "You said the same thing when I told you to eat your brussel sprouts."

                                            >She wriggles in your grip, growling with anger and humiliation.

                                            >"Well, maybe you should learn how to cook!"

                                            >Says the teenager who gobbled up the broccoli you made for her.

                                            "Maybe YOU should take a bath."

                                            >As you approach the tub, filled about half way with steaming water, the mare's wriggles grow more intense.

                                            >"Look, you don't have to do this!  I can do it on my own!"

                                            "Sorry, kiddo, but I really don't trust you right now."

                                            >"I KNOW WHERE MY MOMS PUT THE-"

                                            >SPLASH

                                            >"FUCK!"

                                            >You drop the filly like a sack of potatoes, and she falls gracelessly into the tub.

                                            >You get some water on your pants, but you don't care.

                                            >What matters right now is that you're one task away from getting payment for the entire evening, and you won't let some stubborn, smelly teenaged mare stand in your way of a living wage.

                                            >You have years of experience cleaning fussy foals, and it's honestly no different cleaning this mare.

                                            >"You asshole!"

                                            >...except for the swearing.

                                            "Don't you give me that look."

                                            >You point down at the grumpy, wet mare sitting in the tub.

                                            "You didn't give me a choice.  I can't trust you to take a bath on your own, so we have to do things the hard way."

                                            >Now, to go through your mental check list.

                                            >First you wash the back and hind legs, then you wash the chest, then you wash the fore legs.

                                            "Hold still, now."

                                            >"Fuck you."

                                            >Ugh.

                                            >Teenagers.

                                            >You reach down and grab the little bath cloth you reserve for times like this, and rub the bar of soap against it until it foams up.

                                            >Without a word, you rub the cloth up and down her back, making sure to get out all the grease and sweat she's accumulated over the past however-many days

                                            >Damn filthy teenagers.

                                            >"This is humiliating!"

                                            "You brought this onto yourself, kiddo."

                                            >The mare bristles against your touch, and she surges towards the edge of the tub.

                                            >"I'm NOT a kid!"

                                            >The teenaged mare manages to plant two hooves onto the lip of the bath and haul herself halfway out of the tub before you act.

                                            >You (gently) slam the still-sudzy cloth against her chest tuft and (also gently) push her back into the tub, scrubbing her chest while you have the chance.

                                            >"Woah.  Woah!"

                                            >She seems to be in shock.

                                            >Her eyes go wide and she stares down at the hand on her chest like it was an alien that was about to attack her.

                                            >"Wh-what are you-?! Stop that!"

                                            >....aaaaand you're done cleaning her chest.

                                            " 'kay!"

                                            >You grab a foreleg in your free hand and tug it up into the air, giving you and opportunity to scrub it down.

                                            >Next, you go for the second foreleg; it's just as easy to wash clean.

                                            >Your charge seems to be in shock, and makes no effort or movement to stop you.

                                            >Which is weird, considering how humiliating this was for her a second ago.

                                            >Curious, you glance down at her face.

                                            >She's beet-red, and she won't look you in the eye.

                                            "...you alright, kiddo?"

                                            >She makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but that's all the answer you get out of her.

                                            "I'm gonna keep going, alright?"

                                            >The ponies you wash are NEVER this agreeable!

                                            >You can't let this opportunity go!

                                            >The mare just nods shyly, and you reach for the mane-cleaner.

                                            >Oh, god, now YOU feel uncomfortable.

                                            >Something just happened, but you don't know what.

                                            >The -SPLURCH- from the bottle is as loud as a cannon in this uncomfortably quiet bathroom (which already has amazing acoustics), and you waste no time running your shampoo-covered fingers through her mane.

                                            >You massage the shampoo into her scalp, and the previously-ornery teenaged mare makes a surprised (but pleased) cooing noise.

                                            >If you didn't know better (this mare fucking hates you), you'd swear she leaned into your hand.

                                            >It doesn't take long to get her mane covered in shampoo, thanks to your years of experience cleaning ponies who are usually WAY more fussy than this mare is.

                                            >Now, it's time to rinse.

                                            "Close your eyes."

                                            >The mare's head snaps to face you, and her mane whips around and sprays the walls with suds.

                                            >"Wh-What?!  Why do you want me to-?!"

                                            >She stammers wildly, looking panicked.

                                            >"C-Close my eyes?!"

                                            >You tilt your head in confusion.

                                            >You knew teenagers could be little greaseballs, but SURELY this mare has washed her mane once in her life.

                                            "I'm going to rinse your mane, now," you say in the tone of someone talking to a particularly slow child, "I need to get that shampoo out before I can dry you off."

                                            >The young mare gulps loudly.

                                            >Her face, if it were possible, gets a bit more red.

                                            >"Oh." she says plainly.

                                            >An instant later, she slams her eyes closed.

                                            >You nod with satisfaction, happy that the mare you're looking after is FINALLY listening to what you're telling her to do.

                                            >First, she gave you attitude about dinner.

                                            >Then, she didn't want to do her homework.

                                            >Not even when you offered to help... which admittedly was a good thing, since you took one look at her math homework and realized you had no goddamn clue what she was even doing.

                                            >Frankly, you're just glad something's going your way for once this evening.

                                            >You fill a little plastic bucket up with water, and pour the contents all over her head.

                                            >You do this twice more before all the shampoo is gone.

                                            "Alright, open your eyes.  You're ready to get out nooOOWOHHFUCK!!"

                                            >Before you can even THINK of reaching for your big bath towel (which was JUST put through the clothes dryer so that it's warm and fluffy and perfect for drying off clean fillies), the mare you just spend the last few minutes giving a bath LEAPS out of the tub and over your head.

                                            >Her tail, which was firmly tucked between her legs, smacks you wetly in the face as you fall backwards onto the wet ground.

                                            >You see the tail end of the mare galloping out the bathroom (your upside-down vision confirms it: tail tucked between her legs) before she runs out of sight.

                                            >You her the sounds of wet hooves on the floor, and then a SLAM of a distant door.

                                            >Her bedroom door, if you know the layout of the house well enough.

                                            "...I guess I don't need to make sure she goes to bed by 9:30..."

                                            >You sit back up and look around the bathroom.

                                            >There's water everywhere, and your clothes are soaking wet.

                                            "Ugh."

                                            >Time to clean up.

                                            "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

                                            >Something about pony chests.

                                            >Something about... chest tufts being l-lewd?

                                            "Whatever."

                                            >Or not, you guess.

                                            "It's probably just a grumpy teen being a grumpy teen."


                                            --------------


                                            >You are Anon, and it is now the next weekend.

                                            >Dancing Legacy (whom you had been referring to as "the dad") has asked you to foalsit for him again.

                                            >"You're doing so well, Anonymous! I came home last night with my mares, and that alarming musky scent wasn't in the air as it usually was!"

                                            >He trots over to his daughter, Midnight Flower (again, the teenaged mare you bathed and cooked for), and nuzzles the top of her poorly-dyed head.

                                            >You aren't sure what the original colour was, but it's now a really bad shade of dry black.

                                            >"It's been a challenge to get this little filly to take a bath ever since day one, but you got her to soak in the tub long enough to wash her up!"

                                            >Midnight Flower grimaces and plants her hooves against her father and tries to shove him away, but he's still a fair deal bigger than she is, and he stays put.

                                            >>"D-Dad, stop!"

                                            >Dancing Legacy doesn't seem to notice.

                                            >"Ever since we bought her that cute black pleather saddlebag with Luna's Moon on it, she's been wearing it night and day. She wore it so often that we couldn't wash the smell out of her fur, no matter how hard we tried!"

                                            >Midnight Flower glances between you and her dad, and looks mortified.

                                            >>"Dad! Please! For the love of Luna, shut up!"

                                            >Her dad does not let up.

                                            >He's got this big, dumb smile on his face while he hugs his daughter in front of her foalsitter.

                                            >You start to feel an uncomfortable heat rise up your neck, actually. You're feeling some second-hand embarrassment.

                                            >"We'd try to give her a bath, and she fought, and she fought, and she fought."

                                            >This sounds suspiciously like the story about that goth chick from school who wore the same pair of leather pants to school every single day. She wore them for a solid month before they started to smell. A week or so after it got to the point where you could smell her before she entered the room, she mysteriously stopped wearing them.

                                            >According to the rumour mill, her parents burned the pants to ash.

                                            >By now, Midnight Flower has stopped struggling and is simply lying limp in her dad's arms, and is covering her eyes with her forehooves.

                                            >With a final parting kiss on the head, Dancing Legacy lets his daughter go and trots back over to you.

                                            >His daughter, meanwhile, flops bonelessly onto the ground.

                                            >This must be embarrassing for her.

                                            >"You're the best foalsitter we've ever had, Anonymous!"

                                            >He leans around and shoves his muzzle into his stylish, brand-new saddle bag and pulls out a small bag of bits in between his teeth.

                                            >"Pleh!"

                                            >He unceremoniously spits the bag down at your feet.

                                            >"The mares and I are going out again tonight. Can you do me a favour and play with my darling little filly?"

                                            >>"Wait, what?"

                                            >Midnight Flower looks between you and her dad.

                                            >Her embarrassment is slowly fading back to the annoyance that's been stuck on her face since you started looking after her two weeks ago.

                                            >>"Dad, he doesn't need to play with me! I'm not a little filly any more, you know!"

                                            >Dancing just waves a dismissive hoof at her.

                                            >"Nonsense, sweetheart! You've been so jittery since your foalsitter left the house last week. You're either holed up in your bedroom, or you're snapping at your mothers and I..."

                                            >Her father lands her with a piercing stare, and his jovial smile fades away into a dead-serious grimace.

                                            >"...and I think I know EXACTLY what's going on."

                                            >Midnight Flower's eyes go wide, and her eyes dart over to you.

                                            >>"Oh, Luna," she mutters quietly, "He can't know."

                                            >She looks over to her dad, and then back to you.

                                            >Her ears flop down miserably.

                                            >>"D-Dad, I can explain," she stammers, "It's not what it looks like!"

                                            >Dancing Legacy only raises an eyebrow.

                                            >"Isn't it? I think you need..."

                                            >He points accusingly at you.

                                            >"...a playmate!"

                                            >...

                                            "A what?"

                                            >>"A what?"

                                            >You and Midnight Flower exchange a confused (and, on her part, relieved) look.

                                            >Dancing Legacy just smiles and nods at you.

                                            >"Anonymous, my little filly's been so pent up lately."

                                            >You ignore the choking noise coming from the teenaged mare.

                                            >"So full of nervous energy. Like she's got an itch deep inside her, and she needs somepony's help to scratch it!"

                                            >One of the herd-mares pat Midnight Flower on the back as she immediately breaks into a coughing fit.

                                            >"And YOU are just the stallion..."

                                            >He fades off and tilts his head curiously at your human form.

                                            >"...well, just the creature to help! I've got her play chest all set up in the living-room, so go help her work off that energy before bed time, alright?"

                                            "...are you serious right now?"

                                            >You glance at the herdmares, and they stare straight-faced back at you.

                                            >The one patting Midnight Flower on the back stares back at you, looking horribly amused.

                                            >Coincidentally, her eyes are the exact shade of blue as Midnight's are, and her ears perk up at the exact same angle that Midnight's do.

                                            "He's serious right now." you say in disbelief.

                                            >DING DING DING

                                            >"Oh!"

                                            >Dancing Legacy looks at the wall clock, which is chiming at 3 PM sharp.

                                            >"Goodness!" he squeaks, sounding distraught, "If we don't leave now, we'll miss the train! Anonymous, play with my filly tonight!"

                                            >GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP

                                            >SLAM

                                            >...

                                            >Aaaand, they're gone.

                                            ---

                                            >"These are my music records. My favourite bands are 'The Brothers of Mercy', 'Black Tape for a Blue Colt', and 'Two Wizards'."

                                            >Midnight Flower glances over at you from the corner of her eye.

                                            >"Not that I'd expect you to appreciate the deep, dark meaning behind their lyrics."

                                            >You are Anon, and you are currently sitting on a bed in Midnight Flower's bedroom.

                                            >You didn't think that the play chest would tempt her, so you just asked her what she wanted to do.

                                            >You wanted that extra money, and so you figured that Midnight would know better than you what would entertain her.

                                            >You are her "playmate" after all.

                                            >Midnight said she wanted to listen to music, and so here you are.

                                            >The music is stereotypically goth, and Midnight seems to get some sort of pleasure from switching the records every 30 seconds and giving you samples of her favourite music.

                                            >Overall, it's pretty much the same as when you were a bit younger and your younger brother would be really excited to show you stuff he was interested in.

                                            "Is that so?" you ask, having heard this spiel before, "And why do you like this sort of thing?"

                                            >Midnight Flower hops up onto her bed and gestures at you with her fore legs.

                                            >"Everypony is so obsessed with being happy!" she says, sounding disgusted, "It's like they're all on drugs!"

                                            >She mashes her hoof against her face and stretches her mouth into a large, exaggerated, unnaturally-wide smile.

                                            >"Always be nice to your friends!" she says in a mockingly-happy tone, "Doing good feels good! When in doubt, help out!"

                                            >Midnight Flower removes her hooves and lets her face relax back into its default unimpressed scowl.

                                            >"And to top it all off, my dad treats me like I'm a little filly. I'm not a foal any more! I'm in my last year in high school, and I'll be old enough for the law to recognize me as an adult, soon!"

                                            >She leans back against her wall and crosses her arms, looking unhappy.

                                            >"Nopony ever talks about the way ponies hated the night, and we're all taught to worship the day."

                                            >Nopony you've met has ever talked about "worshiping" the day either, but hey.

                                            >Teenage angst is a hell of a drug.

                                            "Oh... Is that why you have Princess Luna's cutie mark everywhere?"

                                            >From the colors of the walls to the emblems on Midnight's saddlebags, Luna's motif is all over this bedroom.

                                            >Midnight nods at you frantically, as though you just figured out some great complex secret she's been trying to explain to you.

                                            >"Exactly! Princess Luna is a tortured soul! The rightful Princess of Equestria and the face of all those who want to look deeper than those sheeponies do in the day time!"

                                            >She glowers at the corner of the room, looking grumpy.

                                            >"Hey."

                                            >She glances up at you, still not looking too happy.

                                            >"You wanna make out?"

                                            >You choke on the spit in your mouth.

                                            >If you had been drinking something, you would have done a textbook spit-take.

                                            "Excuse me?!"

                                            >Midnight Flower - the 17 year old teenaged mare - just rolls her eyes at you.

                                            >"You look pretty hot, and you aren't a pony. Everypony I know just hooks up with their own species, 'cuz they're all a bunch of sheeponies who conform to society's standards. You'd be fun to be around, if you stopped babying me all the time."

                                            >She gestures to the posters on the wall and the record player in the corner.

                                            >"And we can listen to music and stuff while we make out, 'cuz you won't find any GOOD music outside of my bedroom."

                                            >What the fuck?

                                            >This never happened when you foal-sat Sweetie Belle.

                                            >All she ever did was tell you she liked your 'mane'!

                                            >Rarity might have hit on you a few times, but this is another matter all together!

                                            "C'mon, kid, this isn't gonna happen. First of all, it wouldn't be appropriate, since I'm your foal-sitt-"

                                            >"I'm not some little filly, you know," she grumbles, "My dad's dumb for hiring you, and my moms are stupid for going along with it. I'm too old for a foal-sitter."

                                            "...be that as it may, I'll be fired if your dad found out."

                                            >You nudge her gently with your elbow.

                                            "Now c'mon, I'm supposed to be playing with you."

                                            >Midnight jerks away from you, shrieking wordlessly with anger and frustration.

                                            >"I told you, I'm NOT A LITTLE FILLY!"

                                            >And without missing a beat, she rolls onto her side and lifts up her hind leg, and sweeps aside her tail.

                                            >"SEE?!"

                                            >What are you lookingatohhhhhfuck

                                            >Between her legs are the plump, damp lips of a mature pony pussy.

                                            >Her midnight flower, if you will.

                                            >They're the same colour as her fur, if a few shades darker.

                                            >You can see just the hint of her clit poking out at the tip, quivering as it makes miniature winks at you.

                                            >Each tiny wink sends rivulets of mare-cum dribbling from her sex, and the heady musky smell in the air gets stronger and stronger.

                                            >Just above that, moving towards her tail, is an impudently protruding ponut that looks like it could gobble up your entire cock.

                                            >But the thing that gets your attention the most, are Midnight Flower's teats.

                                            >They're big - bigger than you've seen on any of the full-grown mares who get drunk and flash you down at the bar.

                                            >They've got enough mass that the bottom one is spreading out against the inside of her thigh, and the one above it is squishing against the one below it.

                                            >She's young, so there's no droop to them to speak of.

                                            >If you had to guess, they look to be about twice as much as you could hold in one hand - each.

                                            >They look firm, and warm, and you're hit with the sudden urge to press your face in between them.

                                            >Frankly, you're tempted to press your face in a lot of areas between her legs.

                                            >And the cherry on top of this sundae are the nipples.

                                            >They're prominent, they're thick, and they look like they could fit perfectly between your lips.

                                            >You manage to rip your eyes away from them and glance up at Midnight Flower.

                                            >She's blushing just as heavily as she was during last week's bath time, and you can't help but notice that she's pushing her chest out.

                                            >The damp chest hair that fell limp thanks to the water is now puffed out, looking warm and inviting.

                                            >You want to shove your hand into her tuft and run your fingers through the thick fur.

                                            >All too soon, Midnight Flower lowers her leg again, but you can still see the mass of her teats poking out from above and below her thigh.

                                            >"See?! I have teats and everything! I'm not just some little filly you have to look after, you know."

                                            >She wriggles around until she's sitting back up again, and your gaze is locked down where her teats are resting on her bed, poking out from between her rear hooves.

                                            >"We can, like, make out, and I promise I won't let my dad find out. You can get paid to make out with your marefriend, and I don't have to put up with the humiliation of you, like, treating me like I'm a filly."

                                            >...

                                            >Damn it.

                                            >You're not made of stone!

                                            >How can you keep watching this young mare every week, knowing that those perfect teats are forever beyond your grasp?!

                                            >In lieu of an actual answer, you lean down on one elbow and press your lips against Midnight's.

                                            >Her eyes snap wide open as soon as you initiate the kiss, but they quickly begin to flutters shut.

                                            >Just as her eyes close, you swear you saw her irises being to roll up towards the top of her head.

                                            >She squeaks in surprise, but quickly melts against you.

                                            >You reach up with your free hand to cup her face, and it's like you're taking the temperature of a pony with a fever - her face must be bright red.

                                            >"M-MMmm~"

                                            >Midnight Flower awkwardly mimics the movement of your lips with her own, and you wonder just how inexperienced this teenaged mare is.

                                            >You remember being a horny bastard in high school, and you realize things are a bit backwards here in Equestria; so you can't be the first 'colt'friend she's ever had.

                                            "Hkkrhk!"

                                            >And then Midnight roughly shoves her entire tongue into your mouth and starts to wriggle it around at random, and you've got your answer right there.

                                            >And the answer is "first kiss" inexperienced.

                                            >You pull away and give the poor mare a chance to recover.

                                            >If she's anything like you, she'll need a minute not to blow it in her horse-pants.

                                            >Her eyes are still closed, and a drooping string of drool connects your lips.

                                            "Hey, I-"

                                            >"Mmmnngh!"

                                            >With a primal growl, Midnight Flower lurches forwards and wraps her fore legs around your neck, and crashes her lips against your own again.

                                            >Jesus, she's eager!

                                            >...oh, right, she's still a teenager.

                                            >She's got those hormones driving her wild.

                                            >And as Midnight Flower jams her tongue into your mouth again, you decide to try and teach her how to use that thing properly.

                                            >In the back of your mind, you think to yourself that horse-goth music isn't all that bad to listen to while you make out with someone.

                                            ---

                                            >You are Anon, and it is an hour or two later.

                                            >Or more.

                                            >You don't know, and you don't care.

                                            >You are lying on Midnight's bed, and she's lying with her head resting on your chest.

                                            >"I'm really glad you said 'yes', you know."

                                            >D'aww.

                                            >That's sweet.

                                            "Yeah?"

                                            >Your big teaty goth gf nods, head still resting against your chest.

                                            >"Yeah. I already told my friends at school that I, like, had a coltfriend. It would have been really embarrassing if you told me to fuck off, or whatever."

                                            >Oh.

                                            >That's less sweet.

                                            >A few silent minutes stretch between you, until Midnight Flower raises her head to look at you.

                                            >"You wanna touch my tuft again? I came SO HARD last time you did that."

                                            >...

                                            "Sure."


                                            --------------------


                                            Post-bathtime, pre-makeouts:


                                            >"Do you really think we'll have fun playing this dumb foal's game?"

                                            "C'mon.  I won't even make you take a bath before your bedtime."

                                            >Midnight Flower crosses her fore hooves and pouts.

                                            >"I shouldn't even have a bedtime," she grumbles, "I'm not some little filly."

                                            >You do your best to ignore the two giant globes of tit-flesh that are sitting invitingly on the floor between Midnight's legs.

                                            >You accidentally glance down at them, but snap your eyes back up to her face almost immediately.

                                            >ALMOST immediately.

                                            >Midnight Flower's looking off to the side, so you're pretty sure she didn't see you looking at her teats.

                                            >God damn, Anon.

                                            >You need to get laid soon.

                                            >You're pretty sure you won't get hired back if Midnight's parents think you're perving on their daughter.

                                            "True, but I don't make the rules around here.  And more importantly, I don't get paid unless I enforce them."

                                            >Midnight Flower sighs miserably.

                                            >"This is so embarrassing... if we do this, will you let me go back to my room?"

                                            >You nod firmly.

                                            "Absolutely.  Just one game of Monopony, and then you can go do whatever you want for the rest of the evening."

                                            >Midnight stares wordlessly up at you, weighing the options in her head.

                                            >Either she can put up with you for anywhere between half an hour and 45 minutes, or she can go to her room and risk you dragging her out by the scruff of her neck for a bath.

                                            >You've done it before - she knows what you're capable of when motivated by money.

                                            >And also by the adorable sight of Midnight Flower with shampoo in her mane.

                                            >Call you crazy, but you think she's starting to enjoy bath time.

                                            >"...fine.  But don't think we're gonna do this every time my parents hire you, alright?  I'm not a foal, and board games aren't fun."

                                            "Whatever you say, Midnight," you say absently as you look through your bag of foal-sitting supplies, "Whatever you say."

                                            >"Actually," says Midnight after a pause, "I wanna make a deal if I win."

                                            >You just chuckle like the cocky little shit you are.

                                            "Make whatever deal you want, Midnight," you tell her, "Because I won't lose.  I'm a MASTER of Monopony."

                                            ---

                                            >"Whoooo!"

                                            "DAMN IT!"

                                            >You keel over backwards and land on your back. amid the sounds of Midnight Flower peeling with joyous laughter.

                                            >The carpet might cushion the blow, but it can't lessen THE PAIN OF DEFEAT

                                            >"Eat THAT, Anon!"

                                            "How did you even win?!"

                                            >Midnight Flower cackles victoriously.

                                            >"I won because I'm AMAZING, Anon!"

                                            >You swiftly sit back up and stare down at the square Monopony board.

                                            "There's no way you won," you say, deep in denial, "This is bullshit, Midnight."

                                            >Midnight, grinning openly, just points down at all her properties.

                                            >"Bullshit, huh?  I bought the Railroad companies from you fair and square, Anon.  I also bought Canterlot Square and Manehattan Drive from you after you mortgaged them, and those two are a set: I was able to build some houses on them."

                                            "Oh, my god," you moan miserably, "The rent increase when you build a house is such bullshit.  It's so terrible!"

                                            >You point down at your spaces, which were mostly the side of the board that occur after the jails square.

                                            "What about all of these?!  These are supposed to be the perfect properties to buy!  Everyone goes to jail eventually, so you're bound to land on these squares more often than anywhere else!"

                                            >Midnight leans down and taps each property she owns; stretching almost the entire third and fourth side of the board.

                                            >"That doesn't matter if I own the rest of the board, you chump!"

                                            >She smiles smugly at you, and the part of your brain that isn't enraged because of this game of Monopony is actually pretty pleased that you managed to get Midnight Flower to have a good time.

                                            >"Now pay up!  Pay mama!"

                                            "Yeah, whatever," you grumble, "The money's worthless now that you won the game."

                                            >Midnight, still riding the high of VICTORY, just shakes her head.

                                            >"Nuh-uh, Anon.  Remember the deal we made?  The condition about if I won?"

                                            >...what?

                                            >Oh!

                                            >You feel your face heat up, remembering the deal you foolishly made without even considering that you might lose.

                                            "R-Right, that."

                                            >But you're nobody's coward, and you're going to stick to your word.

                                            >You justify doing this by reasoning that if she trusts you enough to keep your word, she'll be more likely to willingly work with you and do what you tell her to do (bath, dinner, homework, etc) in the future.

                                            >You get into a kneeling position and fumble with your belt.

                                            >Midnight's grinning face - now a bit more red - is locked on your crotch.

                                            >Finally, you undo your belt and unzip your zipper.

                                            >Your body betrays you, and you can feel yourself start to harden a bit.

                                            >With a final flourish, you flash Midnight Flower - the mare who you are now forcibly reminded is just 16 years old - the front of your underwear.

                                            >Son of a bitch, why did you wear the THIN pair today?

                                            >The one with the broken button on the front?!

                                            >As per the conditions of your agreement, you hold the pose for ten whole seconds.

                                            >Each second feels incredibly long, and you just hope to god you aren't poking out of your underwear's fly.

                                            >...

                                            >...8...

                                            >...9...

                                            >...10!

                                            "There.  Happy?"

                                            >You waste no time in putting your pants back on properly.

                                            >"Y-Yeah-huh," mumbles Midnight, "Sure am..."

                                            "Good.  Now get to bed - you won, so no bathtime tonight."

                                            >Not that you think you could bear the idea of giving her a bath at this rate.

                                            >Midnight, face red and grinning widely (you choose to believe the grin is because she won at Monopony), shakily gets to her hooves and trots out of the room and down the hall.

                                            >A moment later, you hear her door close.

                                            >You busy yourself looking for all the pieces of the board game to put away - you're pretty sure you saw one or two property cards slip under the couch.

                                            >You adjust your junk, since now your pants are uncomfortably tight.

                                            "...damn horny teens."

                                            ---

                                            >Be Midnight Flower

                                            >Be a damn horny teen

                                            >You've got a decently-hot foal-sitter hanging around the house every week, and you got a pretty good look at his colt-bits through his rather plain-looking lingerie.

                                            >Luna's moon, the idea that he's wearing lingerie around you is so hot.

                                            >And you KNOW you didn't imagine him looking at your teats.

                                            >You glance over your shoulder and make sure that your bedroom door is locked, and then you turn on your record player

                                            >You don't even care what it's playing; you just want some noise to drown out what promises to be an epic schlicking session.

                                            >Maybe your dad hiring a sitter wasn't so bad after all.


                                            ------------------


                                            >You lean in close to your charge's bedroom door.

                                            >Muffled music is playing, but you know she can hear you.

                                            "C'mon. Let's get you out of that room, Midnight."

                                            >"Don't wanna," comes the muffled response

                                            "Why not?"

                                            >"Listening to music. Also, because fuck you."

                                            >The little shit.

                                            "Well, your parents have a record player in the living room. Why not bring the music out here? I'd love to listen to the music you like. Those... kickin' tunes? Hot beats?"

                                            >Fuck, what do teenaged ponies call music?

                                            >"I'll kick my hot beats in here, grandpa."

                                            >THE LITTLE FUCKING SHIT.

                                            >God dammit, you don't get paid unless you complete everything on the list, and "get my daughter out of her room, mister playmate" is the only thing you haven't been able to do so far tonight.

                                            >Dinner?

                                            >You brought a frozen pizza; she ate her share and you ate the rest over the sink like a rat.

                                            >Homework?

                                            >Already done before you got here at 5, because she knew you'd be here today and she was given a light load for once.

                                            >Chores?

                                            >Same deal as the above.

                                            >Frankly, you're getting the feeling that everything she's done up until this point was engineered in such a way that it meant she had no valid reason to even leave her room while you were here.

                                            >Like the little shit she is.

                                            >Dammit.

                                            >Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT.

                                            >You look at your watch - 7:00 PM. With a 10 PM bedtime, you're running out of time.

                                            >Sure, three hours looks like a lot.

                                            >But you have a stubborn teenager on your hands, and you're pretty sure that about 2/3 of that time is going to be spent getting her out of her room so that you can have fun together and COMPLETE THE LIST.

                                            >You don't know how Dancing Legacy and his herd know, but they ALWAYS KNOW if you don't finish up the list.

                                            >Why do they even NEED you if they have goddamn magic psychic powers that let them know if some asshole has done everything on a fucking list?!

                                            >Patent that shit and sell it for millions!

                                            >DON'T USE IT TO MAKE SOME POOR SAP FOAL-SIT YOUR DAUGHTER

                                            >Okay!

                                            >Okay, okay.

                                            >Whoo!

                                            >Gotta calm down.

                                            >You take a deep breath and hold it; you need to cool down.

                                            >Cool heads prevail, and you can feel the rhythmic burn of an anger-blush hot on your cheeks.

                                            >Right.

                                            >Let's just review what you know about Midnight Flower.

                                            >1) she's a cutie patootie.

                                            >2) she doesn't like you.

                                            >3) she also lusts for you, but that's just what happens when you have a damn horny teen alone in a room with a guy who's... not hideous.

                                            >God knows you would have fucked your math teacher when you were in high school if you could, and she was 44 with sagging tits and a lazy eye.

                                            >You would have stuck your dick into anything back then, and you know for a fact that teenaged mares in Equestria are the same as teenaged boys back on Earth.

                                            >4) she hates board games.

                                            >...well, mostly.

                                            >Maybe you outta revise that.

                                            >4.5) she only likes board games if she wins.

                                            >4.75) she also only likes board games if you make a deal that she likes.

                                            >...

                                            >...oh, god dammit.

                                            >You have to make a deal if you want Midnight Flower to come out of her room anytime soon.

                                            >Son of a bitch, you're not walking out of this house tonight with your underwear still on, are you?

                                            "Hey."

                                            >KNOCK KNOCK

                                            "Listen for a second."

                                            >"Fuck off for a second."

                                            >LITTLEFUCKINGSHIT

                                            >You tamper down your anger; now's not the time for yelling.

                                            >Yelling will make her stay in her room all night, and then you won't get paid.

                                            "Let's make a deal," you say in a strained voice, "You know, like we did with Monopony."

                                            >The muffled goth music is suddenly cut short with a quiet crash.

                                            >Frantic hoofsteps-on-carpet reach your ears, and a moment later the door comes crashing open.

                                            >Midnight Feather is standing there leaning against the open doorway, trying her best to look disinterested and bored.

                                            >The way she's panting just a little bit from running around her room sort of ruins the image, but you ignore it for your own sake.

                                            >"So, uh..." she says, a thrill of excitement in her voice, "What kind of deal are we talkin' about?"

                                            >You step back and make a come-hither motion with your index finger.

                                            "If you come out, we'll talk."

                                            >She peers up at you, gears spinning in her head.

                                            >"...gimme a sec."

                                            >SLAM.

                                            >And so, here you are.

                                            >Standing here awkwardly, hunched over this teenaged horse-girl's bedroom door like a fucking weirdo.

                                            >And to think, your dad thought you wouldn't amount to anything.

                                            >You patiently wait with only the sounds of cloth rubbing against cloth, and wooden drawers sliding open and slamming closed to entertain you.

                                            >A few minutes later, the door swings open again.

                                            >Once more, she scrambles to lean up against the frame of her door all nonchalantly before the thing can swing all the way open.

                                            >She's not even looking directly at you; she's peering down the hall as if the NOTHING happening in the living room is more interesting than showing off her new outfit.

                                            >Because she's wearing clothes now.

                                            >She's got a red chest-less shirt on that's letting her poofy chest tuft poke through.

                                            >It's like an exaggerated keyhole sweater, or like she's wearing a virgin-killer sweater backwards.

                                            >On top of that is a gray jacket that reaches from mid-back all the way up her neck, where two spikes mark the edges of the collar.

                                            >Finally, she has a wristband (do they call it a wristband in Equestria?) with spikes on it.

                                            >Fucking killer.

                                            "Nice look."

                                            >Midnight Flower quickly glances up at you, but looks away just as quickly.

                                            >"Thanks," she says faux-dully, "Or whatever."

                                            ---

                                            >"So," she drawls as you walk into the living room, "What's on the menu tonight? More Monopony?"

                                            >You don't miss the hopeful rise in her voice at the end.

                                            "Oh, hell no. I know better than to get into an ass-kicking contest with a porcupine."

                                            >You crouch down and rustle around in your foal-sitter bag.

                                            >What you DON'T see is Midnight Flower burning holes in your ass with her eyes.

                                            >You don't realize this, but she can see the back of your underwear.

                                            >And she's 100% aware that it's the same pair you wore the last time you sat her.

                                            >You know, when she wanted you to flash her your undies.

                                            >You can't tell, but Midnight has gone from about 30% interested in spending time with you to 110% interested.

                                            >Like the damn horny teen she is.

                                            "I was thinking something different," you say cheerfully, oblivious to the l-lewd thoughts going through Midnight's head, "I was poking around a few thrift stores last week, and I found a record I was hoping we could listen to."

                                            >You pull back from your bag with a record in hand and turn around just in time to see Midnight Flower's horrified, stricken face.

                                            "Y-You want to listen to your idea of music?!"

                                            >You pull a sour face at her.

                                            "Oh, fuck off. My music tastes aren't that bad."

                                            >You hold the cardboard sleeve out so that Midnight can see what it is.

                                            "I found some old radio dramas about Mare Do Well from around a decade or so."

                                            >"Mare Do Well?!"

                                            >Midnight Flower perks up, and her tail swishes in excitement like a happy little puppy.

                                            >You can't help but feel hopeful; FINALLY, life is giving you a break by providing you with something that Midnight likes.

                                            >More importantly, it's giving you a way to get your full payment tonight.

                                            "Oh, you about this stuff?"

                                            >Maybe this is a chance for you to bond with your young charge a little bit.

                                            >Maybe get her out of her room without having to agree to flash her your ding-dong.

                                            >Midnight Flower blinks a few times, then shakes her head.

                                            >"No. I think I heard a few of my friends talking about it at school."

                                            >She sniffs dismissively.

                                            >"Younger kids. Real foals. Because that stuff's for foals, and I'm not some little filly."

                                            >...or not.

                                            "Son of a bitch, are I going to have to walk into this house nude from the waist down if I want you to spend time with me?"

                                            >Midnight just gives you an unimpressed glare.

                                            >"Maybe if you brought Monopony with you, I might hang out with you more."

                                            >Ugh.

                                            "So the answer to that is 'yes'."

                                            >Midnight rolls her eyes, but you notice she didn't say "no".

                                            >"So, hey. You mentioned..."

                                            >Midnight's cheeks obtain a dusting of red.

                                            >"...making a deal."

                                            "Yeah," you sigh, glancing down at the beaten up old record sleeve, "I guess I did. What is it?"

                                            >"Let's try to guess how each episode will end."

                                            ---

                                            >You are Anon, and it's around 10:30 PM

                                            >A little bit past Midnight's decided bedtime, but you don't care.

                                            >You aren't going to lose this bet.

                                            >You are NOT going to be at the mercies of a horny teenager!

                                            >You're sitting on the edge of your seat, staring intently at the grammaphone in the corner.

                                            >The record is old and warped, and your heart skips a beat each time the needle does the same thing.

                                            >You are behind on the bet, and if this fucking thing breaks now, you'll lose the bet!

                                            >AND ALSO YOU'LL NEVER FIND OUT IF MARE DO WELL RESCUES HER COLTFRIEND

                                            >>"~And BAM! Mare-Do-Well bursts in through the sun roof!~"

                                            >Midnight Flower wriggles excitedly in her seat and grins at the radio, clearly much more entertained by this than you are.

                                            >"Oh, mare!"

                                            >She turns to you with a grin on her face.

                                            >"I betcha it ends on a cliffhanger!"

                                            >Bullshit, it will.

                                            "Nuh-uh. This episode's only been going for, like, 10 minutes. We've got plenty of time for her to nab her coltfriend and run out before Mane-iac is any the wiser. I bet that it'll wrap up nicely."

                                            >This is sucking you in way more than you thought it would.

                                            >>"~In the center of the room is her mission objective: the fair colt Nettlekiss sits bound and gagged to a chair by the nefarious Mane-iac and her minions!~"

                                            >>"~This brave masked mare faces down a dozen thugs... Will she come out on top? Or will this be Mare-Do-Well's last adventure? Find out on the next episode of 'Mare-Do-Well: The Radio Drama!'~"

                                            >>"~BZZZZT~"

                                            >Midnight throws her fore hooves up in celebration.

                                            >"WHOOO!"

                                            >WHAT?!

                                            "SON OF A BITCH!"

                                            >You grab the beat-up cardboard record sleeve and check the time listings.

                                            "This episode's too short! Why the hell did it end so soon?!"

                                            >Episode 8: 15:34

                                            >Episode 9: 22:19

                                            >Episode 10: 8:45?!

                                            "That's not fai-"

                                            >>"~We here at Ace Adventures Studies wish you all a happy Hearth's Warming! Even Mare-Do-Well has to go home early for the holidays, so tune in on January 5th to find out how our brave heroine escapes this most dire situation! OR WILL SHE?~"

                                            >>"~BZZZZT~"

                                            "They shortened it for a holiday?" you ask in disbelief, looking up from the sleeve to your smug friend, "They had TIME to end this on a-"

                                            >You glare at your fuzzy little friend, and she's grinning smugly at you.

                                            >"I believe that's 7 guesses for me, and 3 guesses for you. Time to pay up."

                                            >God dammit.

                                            >God fucking dammit!

                                            >How was Midnight do damn GOOD at guessing shit?!

                                            >Ugh, maybe she's used to radio dramas like this, since she and everyone else in this world grew up with them.

                                            "If we were watching episodes of FRIENDS, I'd be able to tell you how the show'd end..." you grumble.

                                            ---

                                            >Be Midnight Flower

                                            >Be sitting in the living room with your decently-hot foal-sitter

                                            >Be initiating a devious plan

                                            >You used to love listening to Mare Do Well's radio dramas when you were a filly.

                                            >Like, Mare Do Well was your LIFE back in the day.

                                            >Back before you saw through the veil that tricked the rest of Equestria and bathed in the truth of how the world works, and started to dye your mane black.

                                            >...that line is from one of your favourite bands, by the way.

                                            >So, maybe you still like Mare Do Well just a tiny little bit.

                                            >Maybe you still know everything there is to know about her.

                                            >Maybe you draw her sometimes when you're not drawing other dark-coloured works of art.

                                            >But whatever.

                                            >Before you renovated your bedroom a year or two ago, your walls were covered in posters of Mare Do Well, Power Ponies, and Mane-iac.

                                            >You think you dad still has them all in storage somewhere; he cried when you took them all down, and then he hugged you and declared that you'd always be his little filly.

                                            >Ugh.

                                            >You can't stand that.

                                            >But the point is, you know exactly which track is playing right now.

                                            >And you know exactly what's going to happen.

                                            >You resist the urge to grin deviously as a sneaky idea forms in your head.

                                            >You're all alone with your foal-sitter... the one who wears lingerie when you're alone; just for you.

                                            >Of course, you already know how these episodes end.

                                            >They're a little fuzzy since it's been a couple years since you've heard them, but you never truly forgot them.

                                            >Ten episodes was the deal, and you won... fair-ish and square.

                                            >And now?

                                            >You lick your lips.

                                            >Now's the time for your prize.

                                            ---

                                            >Midnight Flower rolls onto her back and poofs out her chest to you.

                                            >As is becoming distressingly frequent for you, you make a darn good effort not to look at her big, fat teats.

                                            >You might not do very well, but you try REAL hard not to look at them.

                                            >...more than a few times.

                                            >God, they're big.

                                            >They're big and you want to shove your face in between them.

                                            >God dammit, why does she have to be a teenager?!

                                            >You-

                                            >"Alright, Anon. I won, fair and square."

                                            >Midnight Flower bites her lower lip and stares up at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

                                            >Her forelegs are curled up, as most ponies do when they're on their back.

                                            >But she has them tucked underneath her exposed chest fluff and she's propping the thick fur up.

                                            >Her chest rises and falls withe each excited breath.

                                            >"You've gotta rub my chest tuft for, like, ten whole minutes."

                                            ---

                                            >You are Midnight Flower

                                            >It's ten minutes later

                                            >You're back in your room.

                                            >Your heart is still beating from when Anon dragged his hoof-spiders through your fluff, and you SWEAR you can feel the tips of your hooves tingling.

                                            >You have no idea how you managed not to bust an ovary right there on that couch, and you're pretty sure he heard you wink a couple of times.

                                            >But you're INCHES away from a good orgasm, and so right now you're desperately searching for where you put Mister Quiver.

                                            "I wonder if I can get him to rub my belly next time?"

                                            >You're starting to think that having a lingerie-wearing tuft-rubbing foal-sitter is pretty rad.


                                            -----

                                            dicking around


                                            >The entire room smells lightly of musk and sweat

                                            >You and Midnight have been at this since she got home from school

                                            >She invited you up to her bedroom to listen to some music, but that changed very quickly.

                                            >Right now, you've got your face buried between her legs; massaging one of her big fat teats in one hand, and lavishing attention onto the other one with your mouth.

                                            >"A-Anon!"

                                            >Midnight Flower paws at the back of your head weakly, having worn herself out half an hour ago.

                                            >"Stoppit! D-Dad and moms'll b-be home soon!"

                                            >She's taking deep, heaving breaths, and her chest rises and falls like she's filling a great big balloon with her breath.

                                            >You're rather preoccupied with the nipple in your mouth right now, all while making sure that the other one doesn't get lonely without any attention.

                                            >You aren't sure what Midnight enjoys more; your mouth, or your fingers.

                                            >"I'm gonna... j-just from my teats?!"

                                            >You switch teats and give Midnight's other nipple a contemplative suck as you wonder what, exactly, she's going to do just from her te-

                                            >"OHFUCKNONONONONO-"

                                            >Midnight's frame goes completely stiff.

                                            >She curls up around your head as all the muscles in her stomach CLENCH at once.

                                            >The hooves that were pawing at your head wrap around it as she holds you in place.

                                            >You aren't sure, but the vibrations coming from your left make you think her back leg is kicking.

                                            >Midnight Flower lets out a groan like a wounded buffalo, and the bedsheets around her rump (as well as your shirt and chest) darkens as sprays it with her juices.

                                            >Midnight flops away from you and lands on her back, legs spread out lifelessly.

                                            >Her rear leg kicks weakly, making her enticing set of big, fat teats jiggle just a little bit.

                                            >You feel an injection of pride at the sight of your silly teenaged marefriend; she's completely spent.

                                            >"OhLuna'sMoonIloveyousomuch..."


                                            "Okay."

                                            >You stand up, doing your best to ignore how sore your knees are.

                                            >Note to self: bring kneepads next time you foalsit this filly.

                                            "NOW will you take a bath?"

                                            >Despite being nearly half-asleep at this point (what stallions say about mares is true; as soon as they're done having sex, they just roll over and fall asleep), Midnight Flower still manages to shake her heard 'no' and moan miserably.

                                            >"Don't need a bath... it's n-not even a school night..."

                                            >A few seconds later, Midnight begins to snore.

                                            >What is even with this filly and baths?

                                            >With a shake of your head, you scoop her up into your arms and carefully pad your way over to the bathroom.

                                            >There's a lukewarm squish against your chest, and you look down.

                                            "Oh, right."

                                            >She came all over you.

                                            >As long as she doesn't wake up, you can make sure she won't reek of sex before her parents get home.

                                            >Maybe you'll be able to get these sheets washed while you're at it.

                                            >Your shirt, too.