Anon and his fillys heart-stamped rump (Sweetheart)


                                            "What the hell, Red?"

                                            >"It's perfectly natural, Anon."

                                            "That's not my issue. It's just..."

                                            >You watch Redheart's hooves move across your daughter's rump, adjusting her wide-spreading grip.

                                            "Feels like you're doing my job."

                                            >"D-dad!"

                                            >Redheart leans out of the way.

                                            >"So, what do you really think?"

                                            "It's cute."

                                            >You pause.

                                            "But you're sure it's not a genital defect or—"

                                            >"/Yes/, Anon. It's healthy, and she owes it to you."

                                            >"Ugh, gross..."

                                            >You raise a brow.

                                            "Really?"

                                            >"No. It runs in the family."

                                            >You give your mare's rump a good look. She's not standing, but you still pull a good deal of satisfaction from it.

                                            "Coulda fooled me."

                                            >She turns her head to give you one eye.

                                            >"Not everypony gets it. At least, not unless it's already shown up in a previous generation. Then again, I've never taken too close a look for myself..."

                                            "Don't worry, I'd tell you if I saw."

                                            >You both resume staring at your daughter's perfectly heart-stamped rump.

                                            >She squirms.

                                            >"M-mom, are we done yet?"

                                            "Right below the tail, too..."

                                            >Your mutter catches Redheart's ears.

                                            >"Yes, I think your father's seen enough. We don't want him getting any ideas."

                                            "/Ideas/?"

                                            >She releases her hooves, and your filly's pert rump jostles back into place.

                                            >"I recognize that look, Anon."

                                            "You love me for it."

                                            >Your daughter huffs, slides her forelegs off the beds, and pouts at you.

                                            >"Dad, I'm not going to let you fuck me."

                                            >"Language!"

                                            >You throw a hand out her way, and stare at Redheart in disbelief.

                                            "You're telling me she /just/ hit puberty, and /just/ so happens to know swears?"

                                            >"Don't you throw this on me, monkey dick."

                                            >She gasps, then holds a hoof over her mouth.

                                            >You give your teenage filly a look.

                                            "And just so you know, you saying no wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't one for your mother, at least."


                                            >You are Sweetheart.

                                            >And you are having a not so sweet day.

                                            >You'd already earned your cutie mark years before, but with your new heart, you might as well have earned a second one.

                                            >You thought that being popular would be a dream come true.

                                            >Reality, it seems, is not so bold-faced as you imagined it to be. In fact, as your dad would say, it's a "pain in the ass".

                                            >For one thing, your older fillyfriends are absolutely driving you up the wall: they just won't stop. It's a ceaseless storm of rapport-building and care.

                                            >"You're gonna get sooo many colts with that heart, filly!"

                                            >Sweet Celestia, the /colts/.

                                            "Don't even get me started!"

                                            >You were a big mare now, and big mares got what they wanted.

                                            >But right now, you weren't so sure this mark was the way.

                                            >"C'mon, flaunt it! I saw you talking to /him/."

                                            >You blink, then gag.

                                            "Ace Thruster?"

                                            >Your fillyfriends swoon instantly.

                                            >But one remains standing, and her muzzle twists with confusion and horror.

                                            >"You've got to be joking, Sweetheart! He's a total /stud/."

                                            "And he's totally NOT my type."

                                            >"Just because you've got two hearts doesn't mean you have to lock them both up."

                                            "I'm not. I can tell what they really want."

                                            >"And what do they want?"

                                            >Having recovered, your fillyfriends all lean close.

                                            >One of them giggles, and whispers conspiratorially.

                                            >"I bet her dad showed her what colts really want."

                                            >Before you can even respond, your other fillyfriends are on the scene, berating the ever-loving harmony from the out-of-line filly.

                                            >Your muzzle scrunches as you process the statement in a more nuanced light.

                                            >Thankfully (or regrettably), your mind is able to decipher just what exactly she means.

                                            >It's a lot less obtuse when you remember just how different your family acts from a 'normal' family.

                                            >You stomp a hoof, flustered; you already made this clear to your family, why did you have to do it again?

                                            "My dad doesn't see me that way!"

                                            >And there was no way you would ever fu—

                                            >"See you in what way?"

                                            >You feel a familiar touch: two hands on your withers.

                                            >You relax. Only to immediately bolt upright when you realize he heard what you said.

                                            >"H-hi, Mister Anon!"

                                            >"...Hello, girls."

                                            >You tilt your head up, straining your neck.

                                            >Your father looks down from above.

                                            "Hi, dad..."

                                            >He grins, leans a little further over you, and starts to rub your withers. You coo, melting into his touch.

                                            >As you lower your half-lidded gaze to your friends, you can just barely make out the cloud of blush sprayed across them.

                                            >"Thanks for keeping an eye on my Sweetheart, girls."

                                            >You barely stifle a moan. This must be what mom feels like all the time...

                                            >"N-no problem. She's... pretty cool!"

                                            >"And pretty hot, right?"

                                            >Your eyes widen, and so do your friends'.

                                            "Daaad!"

                                            >He pats you firmly, putting an end to his tender assault.

                                            >"...Yeah, she's hot."

                                            >You can't believe what you're hearing. From your own fillyfriend, too!

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "Are you here to take me home?"

                                            >"Well, I /was/ here to make sure you hadn't given your plot a thorough field-test and examination, given all the attention your body's been giving it. Your mom told me that it wasn't too far from impossible."

                                            >Your blush fires up like an inferno.

                                            "S-she really said that?"

                                            >"Ha. Hell no."

                                            >Oh, thank Celestia.

                                            >"I did."

                                            "DAD!"

                                            >He just runs his hand along your back, resting it near the base of your tail.

                                            >"But yes, it's time to head home. We're going out tonight to celebrate that new mark of yours."

                                            >You look at your friends.

                                            "But..."

                                            >He squeezes. You shudder.

                                            >"Mom's orders."

                                            >You sigh. Can't fight those. Doubly so when your dad's got a firm grip on your rump.

                                            "Sorry, girls."

                                            >"It's okay, Sweetheart. We'll see you at school tomorrow, right?"

                                            "Yeah."

                                            >You ignore the jealous looks your friends shoot you as they make their hasty exits and goodbyes.

                                            >It's just you and dad, now.

                                            >He rubs his hand along your coat, and your ears tweak back.

                                            "Dad... stop feeling me up."

                                            >"Sweetheart, don't tempt me."

                                            >Gosh, your dad is /totally/ into you.

                                            "I kinda feel like you're past that point."

                                            >As you start for the way home, you fall into step beside him.

                                            >"God, what I'd give to show you what I was like before I met your mother."

                                            "Gross."

                                            >"What? I didn't say anything."

                                            "Then let go of my dock."

                                            >"Fiiine. I was just trying to show you some appreciation."

                                            "I got enough of that from the colts /and/ fillies at school."

                                            >"Wow. Of all the ponies in the world, I didn't expect my daughter to be a TOTAL prude."

                                            >Even with the exaggeration in his tone, you just can't let him get away with that bait.

                                            "I am not!"

                                            >"Then how come I don't see any grandfoals?"

                                            >You bump him with your side, and he tousles your mane.

                                            >It doesn't take him long to return his hand to your rump. This time, he feels along the edge of your heart mark.

                                            >"Just between you and me, Sweetheart..."

                                            >You feel the telltale twitch, but he resists the urge to squeeze. He moves his hand away without further molestation.

                                            >"Mares with markings are the hottest."

                                            >And with that final remark—from your father, no less—you find purpose in your rear-mounted fortune.

                                            "Maybe someday, you can show me what you really mean."

                                            >Your father stops. He gives you a look. You blink your eyelashes back with all the non-innocence you can muster.

                                            >His face floods with a tide of emotion, the knowledge of his actions crashing down in a glorious backfiring blaze.

                                            >He sighs.

                                            >"Fuck. Red's going to kill me."