Marble Pie a la Cart

Marble Pie a la Cart

Prompt - https://derpicdn.net/img/view/2017/5/7/1430526__safe_artist-colon-nsfwbonbon_marble+pie_belly_blushing_earth+pony_explicit+source_female_mare_pregnant_shopping+cart_solo.png
Anon takes a heavily pregnant Marble Pie shopping, and ends up having to cart her around in a trolley.

Tags - SFW, Large Pregnancy, PiE

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So there you are, whiling away the afternoon on /mlp/ like the autist you are, and you're typing out the rant of a lifetime at some newfag pleb (It's not inflation you shitstain get a clue jesus christ I bet you have a job or something do you even fetish reeeeeee) when you hear a quiet voice behind you. "Um, Anon? I'm hungry. Can you take me shopping?"

You turn away from your masterpiece of rage and pause for a second to weigh up your options while Marble looks up at you expectantly. In her present state she really shouldn't be going anywhere - the foals are getting big, and you can see that even standing is starting to give her some discomfort. She's a sweet, quiet and understanding little pony, and the emotional side of your brain says you could probably talk her into going back to bed while you scrounge up a snack. But as you gaze into that big, pleading purple puppy eye, the other covered up by her mane as usual, the rational side of your brain swiftly takes control. She's probably devoured every last bit of food you've got already, and you never, NEVER say no to a heavily pregnant and hormonal Pie sister. You're pretty sure your bones still haven't properly healed since last time.

"Sure, let's go." The mall isn't far, and you can get back to dropping the hammer on uncultured normies later. Marble smiles her small, innocent smile and bumps her head against your hip, then falls in alongside you at a steady waddle as you fetch your coat. Sure enough, the kitchen looks like a tornado went through it, but you'll have to handle that later.

It's a beautiful sunny day outside, without even a single cloud in the sky. Perfect dog-walking weather, not that you'd mention that. It turns out that 'little' ponies are roughly the size of German Shepards. Present company excluded - Marble's swollen tummy almost doubles her overall width and you're not even going to take the risk of finding out how much the pregnancy's added to her weight. From the look of things, it's added a lot. By the time you reach the mall around the block, she's red in the face and sweating and the pair of you have to stop and take a break. You wipe her brow and rest your free hand on her tummy, eliciting a little squeak from the rounded mare. She's almost impossibly shy most of the time, not the sort to let herself be seen like this in public, but self-consciousness comes second to food cravings. A loud, demanding gurgle from deep inside her belly reminds you of the gravity of the situation.

You scratch your head. Marble barely made it here - you can't expect her to come trailing around the mall with you and it's not like you can carry her either. But one look at that pleading little face makes it clear that you can't turn back either. Those foals want food *now*, and who knows what it'll take to satisfy them? A shopping cart rattles past with a child in the high seat, pushed by a woman that obviously wants to be literally anywhere else. "Mummy, look at the size of that pony!" The woman ignores her brat's comment and keeps going, while Marble blushes like a tomato and tries to hide behind her mane. For a second you feel like taking up some of that pent up chan rage on the little shit, but then again - that gives you an idea. A minute later, once Marble is fit to get up and walk again, you lead her over to the cart bay.

Bingo.

While Marble looks on with ever-growing agitation at her ravenous brood, you pick out one of the larger carts, one designed to carry a week's worth of groceries for a family. It's a fancy model too, with smooth clear plastic surfaces on a metal frame instead of the usual wire mesh. "Here you go. We can give your legs a rest with this," you say, proud of your idea.

Marble bites her lip, cowering from the cart like it might be about to leap up and bite her, but eventually she relaxes. "Mm-hmm."

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder, bringing the other around beneath her forelegs to support her ribcage. "Just got to get you into it. Ready?" She fidgets, looking furtively left and right, but it looks like you're not making a scene and she nods, giving you a trusting smile. You brace your legs, shifting your other hand to support her hindquarters. Time to put all that knowledge you picked up while shitposting on /fit/ to good use.

Marble is not a light pony. You grit your teeth and heave, putting every ounce of tard strength you can muster into the effort, and lift her bodily off the ground, letting your legs do the work rather than your spine. Your muscles ache in protest, but you reach deep down into your core and harness every last ounce of power that pure waifufaggotry has to offer, gently hoisting and lowering her into the cart. You take a deep breath and slowly release your hold, trying to shake the feeling that your arms have been dragged halfway out of their sockets, but smile as you survey the results of your hard work.

Marble comes to rest on her side, her forelegs curled around her chest. Lying down like this just emphasises how massively pregnant she is, the upper curve of her belly jutting proudly over the rim of the cart and the rosy, sensitive patch around her navel pressing against the plastic inside wall, but the cart's just about spacious enough to hold her without much discomfort. She peers up at you with that adorable one-eyed look, still blushing faintly. "Can we, um, get some food now?"

You nod and take hold of the cart's handle, pushing your demure and dramatically distended little pony through the double doors and towards the food court. Her tummy rumbles again, the sound of a mighty hunger that only a heap of mismatched vegetables and dessert can sate. You can only hope that she's not too big to get out of the cart again once she's done gorging...