Getting Your (Daughter's) Rocks Off

Canterlot High School is a busy place; always abuzz with activity as students come and go, and lately full of suspicion, mystery, intrigue, and magic. A fascinating place to observe, but not everything magical is restricted to occurring within these walls. Indeed, as the slow spread of bimbos begins, it becomes apparent that some have not been active as students in the CHS community for many, many years.

“I’m telling you that I’m in agreement,” Cloudy Quartz sighs as she fumbles with the door with her free hand, juggling grocery bags in the other. With her head pressed to her shoulder, the mother of four grunts into the receiver and finally jimmies the door open. “What? No Cookie, I just got home.”

Stepping inside, the middle-aged woman with slate-grey hair sighs and places the bags down on the table. Long, delicate fingers reach into the bags, pulling out her purchases and popping them into the pantry. With her phone still cradled between her should and ear, she listens to her friend gush on the other end of the line.

“Well that’s a relief to hear,” Cookie Crumbles says in her usual mid-western twang, “I don’t know what’s going on at that school, but I’m pretty sure that I don’t like it. At least I know that I’m not the only one who’s interested in investigating this new school. Oof, you should have seen what Rarity tried to wear when she left the house today; I almost had a heart attack!”

The bespectacled woman bobs her head in agreement; there have been more than a few times when she’s wondered about her children’s attire, even as far back as when Maud was enrolled at CHS. Granted, part of that was due to Maud being simply too large in the chest and growing at such a rate that it was hard to keep her in clothes for more than a few months, but with Pinkie, Marble, and Limestone now going through Canterlot High as well, it is becoming more and more apparent that something is wrong at the school. And she isn’t the only one to notice.

Cookie Crumbles, about one year her senior and fellow CHS graduate, had confided in Cloudy some time ago that there is some pushback against decisions which the present administration has been making. Along with Principal Celestia’s regular lack of enforcing the dress code, leniency with regards to public displays of affection, all manner of issues are being brought to bear by small, fringe groups both within the school and outside of it. Unfortunately they are unable to get any traction, or make anything stick to enact change.

However, according to Cookie’s latest information, there is a teacher at CHS who has reached a tipping point and is prepared to start her own alternative school within the district. She’s educated and certified to lead the school, and has an ample support network of teachers to draw from should she decide to go through with it. On the parent side of things, their numbers are still small due to the relative secrecy, but they are growing quickly. There’s even a thought that they could begin renting space and start enrollment as early as next semester. For Cloudy Quartz, with three of her daughters still in the now strange and unfamiliar halls of the new CHS, it’s an enticing offer.

“I just don’t know where she gets it from,” Cookie continues. “I’m not an especially large woman, and neither was my mother or Magnum’s, but Rarity…” Her voice trails off before a quick laugh echoes into the earpiece. “Oh listen to me, worried about nothing. I’m sure it’s just her diet; who knows what is going in our food nowadays, right?”

Cloudy sighs as she places the last of the cans away. “Mm, I suppose; though Igneous and I made sincere efforts to ensure our children had fresh produce growing up, and look at my family now.”

There’s a noncommittal grunt from Cookie and the stony mother of four shakes her head. The two of them honestly sound like old women being left behind by the rest of the world; not quite able to grasp what’s happening but unwilling to give in and let things fall as they will. It’s not an especially pleasant feeling, but one that has been occurring more and more frequently as Cloudy must come to terms with the fact that she and her daughters have been raised in different times.

“My largest concern is that they’re being safe,” Cookie finally speaks up again, earning a frown from her friend. “You know, with all the things that teenagers are trying nowadays, you just want to be sure that they’re not going to hurt themselves or make life altering decisions before they’re ready.”

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Cloudy walks out into the hall and glances down towards her children’s bedrooms. “Cookie, are you suggesting that our girls are having,” she gulps, struggling for the best word, “relations with boys their own age?”

The mother of two falls silent for a long moment and then giggles. “Oh Cloudy, you’re such a hoot! ‘Relations’, as though you weren’t the school’s biggest tease when we were coming up together.”

A quick scoff slips from the usually cool woman’s lips. “Me? A tease? Hardly. You know me Cookie, Igneous has always been the only one for me.”

“Oh, not on purpose, but you know what I mean; you were,” Cookie drags out the last syllable for several seconds and the sterner woman can practically see her slightly chubby hand circling in the air, “the beautiful ice queen? There’s a real appeal in that; nearly every boy in your graduating class had his eye on you and a number in mine did too. It made some of the girls so mad!”

Cloudy’s face contorts and she at last shakes her head in frustration. “Ice queen? Goodness, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Cookie.”

“Hmph,” is all she says for a long while before speaking again. “Well, all that I meant was that I don’t want to come home one day and find that Rarity’s been caught up with some hooligan. The last thing I want is for her to get addicted to something, or pregnant.”

“P-Pregnant!?” the cool, composed woman is gone in an instant as Cloudy sputters out the word. “Why on earth would Rarity be getting i-intimate with anyone?”

“Well, you know how boys can be…”

Cloudy didn’t, not with a house full of girls and Igneous being the only man she’d been ‘intimate’ with in all her forty-plus years on the earth. But she gives a small sound of affirmation anyway, not wanting to delve into the topic any further. Her mind already spinning with fearful possibilities, she dodges a few more softball questions from Cookie and excuses herself. With a short goodbye, she hangs up her phone and leans against the wall with a sigh.

Despite a hard life the years have been kind to Cloudy Quartz, especially after having four children over a short span of time. Perhaps it’s because of her backyard gardening and farming, but the dark haired woman has been able to retain a rather slim figure that makes her the envy of many in her social clubs. Granted, there were many lean years when she and Igneous started their family, but even after their finances have become solvent, Cloudy can still fit into her high-school clothes. Not that it’s something she gloats about, although she does allow herself a measure of delight in that regard.

She still has a few more starter wrinkles on her face than her long-time friend Cookie Crumbles, but Cloudy wears them with pride. The product of a life well lived, she always thinks each time she passes by a mirror. With her hair pulled back into a bun, an almost entirely make-up free face, and her half-rimmed glasses, she fills in the part of stern mother quite well, though it’s been some time since she needed to be tough on her children.

“Although, perhaps the lack of discipline has been a mistake,” Cloudy sighs, pressing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Her girls aren’t bad by any means; they’ve always been very respectful and polite. But as they began to… develop, all of her daughters aside from Pinkie Pie had begun to behave in a manner that afforded them a great deal of privacy. They would be present at meals and engage in small talk, but behind locked doors, they would spend a great deal of time together. And after Cookie’s concerns, Cloudy finds herself feeling uncertain that her daughters are behaving in a manner befitting young ladies.

So it is that she resolves to make sure that her daughters are staying on the straight and narrow, quietly stalking her way down the hall; the house utterly still aside from the occasional creak under her feet. She stops by Pinkie Pie’s room first, feeling a pang of loneliness as she looks in at her wayward daughter’s living space. The entire family had been surprised when they were notified of Pinkie’s participation in a special course that required her to stay over at the Cakes’ bakery for an extended period of time, but even knowing that her daughter is in good hands doesn’t make Cloudy miss her little ray of sunshine any less.

Taking a few moments to pick up a number of scattered articles of clothing and put them away, Cloudy glances around the room in a search for anything out of sorts. Of course she finds nothing, as Pinkie had very thoroughly managed to cram every dirty book, toy, and piece of racy underwear that she owned into her duffel bag before leaving. But being unaware of that, her mother can only smile and nod her head. “I should have known that Pinkie would be a squeaky clean girl, through and through.”

Limestone and Marble’s rooms are next, with similar results. Although Cloudy does find a few lingerie magazines with certain outfits circles stashed under Limestone’s bed, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs squirreled away under Marble’s pillow. The first is easy enough write off, as her taller, top-heavy daughter having an interest in looking trying something new; though her choice in style is questionable with deep plunge bras that would be wasted with any of her current tops. Hopefully it’s not the start of a trend towards flashing more skin, but Cloudy resolves to keep an eye on Limestone, just in case.

Marble’s find is significantly harder to put into a harmless framework, and Cloudy spends several minutes sitting on her youngest daughter’s bed, simply twirling the metal clasp around on her finger. But finally, her eyes light up. “A slight of hand trick,” she declares, but immediately sighs and closes her eyes. “No, that doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Staring at the cuffs for several seconds more, she quietly hopes that Marble isn’t involved in anything that might get her into trouble. Anxiety building, Cloudy decides that she’ll talk with her silver-haired daughter when she comes home from school. But even that decision doesn’t do much to alleviate her stress and so, with the now confiscated handcuffs hanging out of her pocket, the matriarch approaches her oldest daughter’s room.

Even among the family, Maud has been something of an odd duck; growing up during lean times she had filled out abruptly and without ceasing for a number of years, making clothing her difficult. Already a quiet girl, Cloudy had seen her blossoming body as more hindrance than help, but Maud ended up being quite popular with a number of dreary boys from school despite her rather simple clothing. Thankfully, she has never shown the slightest interest in any of them.

“An ice queen,” the mother muses with a smile. While Cookie had been wrong about Cloudy in that regard, the description might be a dead ringer for Maud. The cool girl hardly ever shows any interest in anything outside of her family and her studies. Pinkie had even made a game out of guessing who would approach, and be turned away by, her older sister next. With that thought in her mind Cloudy can smile, assured that once she turns the door to her daughter’s room, she will find it just like Pinkie’s; not a single thing to worry about. The knob takes a few jiggles, but once it opens, Cloudy does a quick examination of her daughter’s room.

Quite unlike her eldest daughter’s style and attitude, the room is painted in girly-girl magenta, with reds, purples and pinks dominating the rest of the room. The carpet shifts under her weight with whisper softness that Cloudy can almost feel through her flats. Shuffling around the sleeping space, the matriarch of the family smiles and notes that, true to her thinking, nothing seems to be awry in the room and begins to marvel instead at the number of photographs Maud has lying around. One in particular catches her attention.

Moving over to her daughter’s bed, Cloudy sits down and picks up the framed picture of Pinkie Pie. The only real description for the image is lewd, with her frizzy-haired daughter in nothing but a pair of towering, candy-colored platform heels, a far, far too short skirt and skimpy strap of underwear, a vest that can hardly be called decent by any measure and a pair of coverings over her free-hanging breasts. Honestly, Cloudy isn’t quite sure what to refer to them as, but they aren’t adequate at all. She clearly remembers the first time Pinkie said she was going to school in that outfit, as well as Igneous’ reaction. Needless to say, those clothes haven’t seen the light of day since; at least not in the Pie household.

“I do hope she’s taking care of herself,” the mother of four says wistfully as she replaces the picture. The thought of why Maud might insist on keeping it so close to her bed never crosses Cloudy’s mind as she places her hands behind her, fully intending to push herself up off the soft mattress. At least until something hard and unyielding presses into her palm.

The stony woman turns and the color washes out of her face in an instant as she scrambles for her phone.

===

Despite how it might seem, there are actually still six residents in the Pie household. First there’s Igneous Rock, the stone-faced patriarch who might have fit in better in the world forty to sixty years before he was born. A hard man with a hard life, but one who would do whatever it takes to see his family in a safe, secure place. Then there’s the cool mother-daughter pair of Cloudy Quartz and Maud Pie who, despite their differences, have a great deal in common with one another. And, skipping over the absence of a certain pink party planner, there’s the towering Limestone Pie and plucky Marble Pie rounding out the family.

And then, there’s Boulder.

And Boulder is irritated.

Now, it is very difficult to understand how a rock can feel anything, but it must be understood that most rocks do not turn into lewdly shaped dildos after being sprayed with a bottle of perfume. Likewise, it isn’t so much that Boulder knows what irritation is, but rather that Maud Pie, his owner, believes that he is. And so it is between these two strange, unusual incidents that Boulder rests; spending his days stewing in his helplessness.

He has no reason to be especially angered; even though he’s a pleasure toy, he enjoys the attentions of three succulent gothy-bimbos in Maud and her two sisters, Limestone and Marble, on a nightly basis. In fact, Boulder is the one responsible for their current state, being the cause behind each of the three girls going from farmland flat to succubus stacked, with histories to match. But despite their constant affections, there is still one thing that bothers his owner.

Pinkie Pie; the one who got away. Upon entering into her present state, Maud had fully intended to transform her cheery sister from bouncy bimbo to a top-heavy, dark and dreary gimbo. Unfortunately, the frizzy-haired girl had enough sense to leave her home and stay with her bosses for the time being. A clever move, but one that left Maud both saddened and frustrated. So too then was Boulder.

The only difference being that, as a rock, Boulder has nothing to do but lie around all day and wait to be picked up. So, alone with his thoughts, he simmers ceaselessly, waiting to be used again in the evening, so that he might have some measure of respite from the constant bombardment of thoughts regarding the escaped sister. And so it is today; save for one small difference.

The fingers which heft his mighty frame are unfamiliar, calloused and toughened by years of steady labor. The nails are weak and chipped in places, perfectly plain without even a coat of gloss, and the palm he rests in holds a number of deep, worn grooves. The hand then is not only unfamiliar, but almost completely foreign, lacking much the youthful elasticity that he has enjoyed from the Pie sisters. But at the same time, the feeling is not entirely unpleasant either, as the stiffer, aged hand grips him in a fresher, firmer way that the other girls lack.

Boulder revels in the sensation but quickly becomes aware of something else. A note of panic that thrums up from his holders’ heart with each pulse, and it only intensifies as time wears on. And, despite Boulder’s best attempts, it’s impossible for the rock to see what or why the holder is in a panic. After all, it’s not like he has eyes; he’s a rock.

And so, with a deep reluctance, the stony phallus draws up some of the magic that has been taken in from the gothy-bimbo’s nightly affections. It is intended to be for Pinkie Pie should she decide to return home, but Boulder is more intruiged intrigued by the owner of the mystery hand than the missing girl. Beginning with the smallest of sparks…

===

“Cloudy, you have to calm down!” If only it were that easy, the stern woman thinks, choking back an uncertain laugh. Fifteen seconds into the call, Cloudy Quartz is fully red-faced and panting, no, hyperventilating, as she clutches her hand tightly.

Everything had been going so well too when she felt something cool touch against her hand. Looking down, several seconds passed before she had the wits to realize the familiar shape of the object in her hand. Utterly lost, she had done the only thing she could think of. She called Cookie.

“It’s a penis!” she says into the receiver again. “It’s a massive penis carved out of rock!”

One the other side, Cookie sighs and takes a deep breath. “Yes, Cloudy, it’s in the shape of a penis. That’s usually what they look like.”

Any attempt at the mother of four regaining her composure falls flat on its face with that statement. Clutching the rock tight in her hand, she all but hisses into the phone, “Why do you know about this? Did you give this to Maud?!”

“What? No!” Cookie pauses long enough to take a few deep breaths before clearing her throat. “Cloudy, sugar, I want you to listen very carefully to me. Everything is fi-”

“Everything is not fine! Why does my daughter have a p-penis in her room?”

“Oh for- it’s not a penis; stop calling it that! It’s a dildo!”

Cloudy’s heart drops abruptly, her blood running cold as the final two syllables ring about in between her ears. Her lips, chapped from a lack of protection, pop open and closed a few times before she gulps. Finally managing to catch her breath and slow her pulse, she barely manages to croak, “D-dildo?”

“Yeah, at least I hope that’s what it is, otherwise your daughter’s into some really strange stuff; like, mental health professional stuff.”

Her mother’s instinct says to snap at her friend for even suggesting that Maud, her precious Maud, was in need of any sort of psychiatric help. Instead, Cloudy slides her index finger along the shaft and frowns. For some reason, it seems warm, abnormally so considering how long she’s been holding it.

“Well I don’t think we have to worry about that, but I still don’t know why Maud would have something like this.”

“Why not? She’s a grown woman after all,” Cookie sighs. “Listen, Cloudy, I think that we need to have ourselves a little girl talk. Or ladies chat, whichever you prefer.”

Contorting her face a little, the matriarch of the family gives a tired sigh and falls back onto her daughter’s bed. It’s soft, delightfully so; like a little pink cloud. Closing her eyes, Cloudy Quartz continues to drag her finger up and down the shaft of the dildo, unconsciously marveling at how real it feels in her grip. She is also entirely unaware of the gentle tingle running down her finger, flesh and muscle swelling slightly and taking on a more youthful softness, while her close cut fingernail begins to creep forward.

“All right, what’s your mind?”

“Have you ever,” the older of the pair pauses, and Cloudy can see her friend all but gnawing through her plump lower lip before continuing, “seen a dildo before today?”

The bedded woman sputters. So much for subtlety. Shaking her head, the mother of four opens her eyes and holds the rock over her head. Entirely oblivious to the fact that one of her fingers looks terribly out of place compared to the rest, she eyes up the dildo before beginning to slide her thumb along the other side as well.

“I can’t say that I have,” she responds as her thumb and index finger make a small ring around the shaft. Holding the dildo tight against her remaining fingers, Cloudy gently slides the two finger ring across a small surface of the rock in a half-hearted jerking motion. It’s a rather lewd action to be engaging in, but doing something with her hands is better than simply panicking.

“Goodness, you really are sheltered, aren’t you?” Cookie giggles and Cloudy scoffs but closes her eyes again. Sheltered? Perhaps a little, but it hardly seems ladylike or proper to keep such lurid things in ones bedroom. Undeterred by her silence, the older woman continues. “It really is nothing to worry about, I’m sure that Maud is just experimenting sexually with her body and-”

“Experimenting?” the stern woman asks, glancing at the dildo again. She’s still impressed by the life-like appearance, and even feel of the object now that she’s really started going; despite being stiff and unyielding, the texture is wonderfully smooth. Placing the bottom of it against the bed, Cloudy gives it a few five-fingered pumps and marvels at her own technique. Even with a set of talon-like nails, her movements are so smooth, so precise so-

“Right, experimenting, as in, she’s masturbating with it?”

The rock falls from Cloudy’s hand in an instant.

===

Once again Boulder is displeased; and things had been going so well too. The hand, which belongs to the mother of his own owner, had just begun to really get into the spirit of things when he was so unceremoniously dropped from the snug confines of her grip. To make matters worse, he’d bounced off the bed and landed on the floor. He! Boulder! What a travesty!

Once again cut off from the world, Boulder can only lay motionless and stew. Well, mostly; there is still a strand of magic that connects him to the hand, but there really isn’t that much that can be done with it other than feeling anxiety beginning to grow. Unfortunately, this rubs off on Boulder as well, and the stone schlong begins to hope, if a rock can hope, that he would be picked up again and returned to his rightful place in the panicking woman’s palm. If he were, maybe he could alleviate some of her fears. A gentle pink glow surrounds the metamorphic meatstick.

===

“Masturbating?”

Cloudy’s voice is a few notches below shrill, but considering her usual even tone, it may as well be. Cookie doesn’t make things any easier by laughing awkwardly over the line.

“Well, yes, masturbating. Don’t tell me that you’ve never even done that.” The mother of four remains silent as she looks at her delicately manicured hand. Biting he lip, she flexes her fingers and sighs. Cookie takes that moment to jump in, sounding stunned. “Really? With those long, gorgeous, piano player fingers you’ve never…?”

“I-I didn’t say that,” Cloudy grumbles, looking away. Her heart thuds in her chest as Cookie pipes in again, far more excited now and egging her on for more details and the younger of the pair again wonders how they got to be such good friends. With an awkward blush, Cloudy replies. “I may have, once or twice.”

“Once or twice a week?”

“N-no!” the glasses-wearing woman stifles a laugh. It’s certainly an awkward conversation to be having with such a longtime friend, but it’s also rather silly. Feeling her face burn hot, the mother of four flexes her fingers and absently notes how empty her hands feel. Things would be so much easier if she just had something to occupy her dancing digits, and it might even allow her mind to drift. Then, Cloudy remembers the dildo.

Rolling over on to her side, she switches the phone between her hands and glances over the edge of the bed. There, on the floor, she spots the familiar shaped stone staring at her. Weighing her options for several seconds, she reaches down and picks it up unaware as her unaffected hand begins to tingle with magic. Moving onto her back, Cloudy begins the same, easy jerking motion with her index finger and thumb, once again relishing in the warmth and almost fleshy smoothness of the stone.

“My mistake, you must mean once or twice a day, right? That’s how you could strut through CHS with everyone’s eyes on you and not even flinch. You just soaked it all up for later!”

Cookie giggles again and Cloudy’s ears burn. The nerve of her friend! The normally cool woman clenches her legs together and offers up a gentle laugh, trying to cover up the sudden onset of arousal. “H-Hardly. I can’t imagine that anyone has to satisfy themselves that often.”

It’s more than a slight fib; there were a number of times in high school that the mother of four found herself to be insatiable and would cloister herself off from the world for hours at a time. Very often, it would be after wearing something particularly provocative, like a skirt that rose above the knees, or a dress with high sleeves, relishing in the attention of her peers. She would never show it in public, of course, but her fingers proved to be welcome companions on those long, private journeys towards orgasm.

While her motor doesn’t get running quite as often any more, there are still unexpected instances where she starts going at the drop of a hat. Like now, being on the phone with her best friend and jerking off her oldest daughter’s sex toy. Shuddering, Cloudy clenches her thighs together and gives a quivering sigh. At once, her friend cuts in with a note of concern evident in her voice.

“Hey, I’m just playing, Cloudy. But at least I know that you’ve had an orgasm a time or two.”

If only she knew. “Of course,” the younger of the pair smiles, “but you’re still avoiding telling me about the dildo.”

“Right, I’m sorry even though I think it should be pretty obvious.” The words hang in the air for several seconds, Cloudy waiting patiently before Cookie clears her throat, and declares, “Maud is probably using it for penetration.”

Oh.

“Oh,” the stern woman says, feeling her grip begin to slip again. Thankfully, she catches the toy between her fingernails before it hits the ground again. Bringing the phony phallus closer in her claw-like grip, Cloudy again sizes the stone up. It’s certainly large, almost visually uncomfortably so, but at the same time she can feel the space between her legs tighten at the sight. “Well, I can certainly see why that might be appealing, though I don’t much approve of her having it.”

“Well, it’s safer than having sex with a boy, that’s for sure; you can’t get pregnant from a dildo!”

A good point, she muses, her index finger sliding up and dancing along the tip of the toy. If it came down to the lesser of two evils, then self-pleasure would be far preferred over an unprotected encounter with a boy. And it isn’t like Cloudy herself hasn’t suffered from an overactive libido; even into her forties she’s regularly supplementing her romantic encounters with her husband with a good fingering session at least a few times a month. Although, that thought doesn’t do much to release the anxious knot in her belly. Closing her eyes, Cloudy takes a deep breath.

“If she has a dildo, I shouldn’t have to worry about her being intimate with a boy, right?”

There’s a momentary pause that does nothing to alleviate her fears, before Cookie responds, “I’d say so, especially if you haven’t seen or heard her talk about anyone who’s caught her eye.”

“Good. That’s all I need to hear.”

“You sound like you’ve calmed down.”

“I have,” Cloudy nods. “I feel as though I’m back in control of this situation.”

Cookie chuckles and sighs, “There’s the ice queen; it’s a little unnerving when I hear you start to crack under pressure.”

“It’s just an unfamiliar situation and I got a little hot under the collar. But the good thing about ice is that it can freeze again.”

“True, but I have to wonder how unfamiliar it really is,” the older woman says with another laugh. “Anyway, I have a meeting with our prospective principal, so I’ll call you later with the details. Ta-ta for now!”

Cloudy says her goodbye and places her phone aside. Bringing the dildo back up to her face, she rolls the now familiar feeling object between her fingers. The thought that this has been inside her daughter is, of course, front and center in the mother’s mind, but as she holds it, another thought crosses.

It may very well be that her daughter has never used the dildo for its intended purpose. While it seems an impossibly long shot, when it comes to Cloudy, she simply can’t get enough of touching the metamorphic meatstick, as though it were the most familiar and wonderful feeling in the world. Thoughts of penetration are far from her mind, focusing instead on how she might tug on it relentlessly; without the slightest concern for harming the owner. Holding the base in one hand, she smoothly slides up with the other, relishing the strangely familiar sensation as the dildo warms her hand yet again.

===

For the first time in a while, Boulder is feeling rather useful. It’s wonderful to be the playing of three luscious ladies, lavished with gothy-lipstick kisses and tongue worship, but it’s an entirely different sensation to be actively involved in using magic again. A sense of purpose fills the rigid rock and so Boulder begins to pour out magic again; curious, if a stone can be curious, as to where things will proceed from here.

===

Cloudy Quartz gives a small purr as she squirms about on her eldest daughter’s bed. A delightful shiver rolls up her spine, sending a series of sparks through her brain that practically make her melt from the inside out. Wetting her smooth lips, she opens her eyes again and slides onto her knees, donning a small smirk in the dildo’s direction.

“You’re rather lucky, you realize that?” she asks to no one in particular. Even if the dildo is just a rock, there’s a small thrill in treating it like it’s attached to an actual person. With long, leisurely strokes, Cloudy shudders and continues her teasing. “Once upon a time, I was the most lusted after girl in Canterlot High. Boys couldn’t take their eyes off of me and girls always watched me like hawks, all because I was a little unattainable.”

Pausing long enough to bring a finger to her lip, she wets it with her tongue and begins to use it to circle the thick tip of the head. Despite her rigid attention on the stony shaft, she still wears a smug smile. “Of course, that didn’t stop a few of them from trying to get close to me. My father wasn’t especially fond of me dating, and to be honest, I wasn’t either. But I enjoyed watching them squirm all the same.”

Taking a deep breath, Cloudy begins jerking the rock off again but this time with more enthusiasm than before. Her arms, which one jiggled slightly with the weight of middle age, have visibly firmed and even begun to regain muscle, beyond that which was lost to time. Her movements quicken as she bats her eyes twice and gives the dildo a sultry, lidded gaze.

“And oh how I’d make them squirm. I’d take them to a stall, or under the bleachers, somewhere secret and private, and then I’d beat them off, just like I am you, right now.”

As if to prove her point Cloudy works her now supple wrist in a quick up-down motion, tightening and loosening her grip with an expert touch that a reserved ice queen simply shouldn’t have. And yet she does, and she loves it. Smirking, she chuckles and casts her eyes upwards to her invisible teasing target.

“There,” she breathes with a quiet moan, “just like that; the way your faces scrunch up always gives me a thrill. But-” Placing her thumb and index finger back into a snug circle, Cloudy uses it to hold tightly to the base of the stony shaft and sighs. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a chance to stretch my fingers, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t let you blow too soon.”

===

Scratch useful, Boulder is on strata nine! With just a little bit of magic, the mother of his owner has gone from totally prude to mildly lewd, enough so that there’s an unexpectedly large surge of magic looking to escape thanks to her affections. It won’t of course; Boulder boasts a rock-solid constitution, and there is absolutely no way that he is going to give any more of the magic taken in for Pinkie Pie to this sultry seductress.

Despite the way that her fingers feel sliding up and down the length of his shape, skilled by years of understanding and expertise that simply shouldn’t be in her head, but are. The tactile touch that threatens to overwhelm mere mortals will fall tragically short when confronted with the near eternal patience of-

===

It happens in an instant. Cloudy Quartz is happily pumping away, murmuring words of teasing encouragement to the dildo when her imagination sparks to life. Despite her lurid taunts, the dark haired woman can’t help but recoil with a slight sound of protest as she envisions the first splatter of orgasm against her face.

Even in her mind’s eye, she can feel the moist warmth running down from the lower half of her face, around her lips and towards her chin. Cloudy grunts, moving to pull away when it occurs to her that this is simply fantasy; an idea given only partial form. It’s certainly not as though her face is actually being splattered with anything. And so, after a moment of debate, the mother of four leans her face closer to the dildo, parts her lips, and lets her imagination run away. If the clenching between her legs is any indication, it may be the smartest thing that she could have done for herself.

As she feels the seemingly endless surge of imaginary spunk covering her face, Cloudy closes her eyes and makes several mock-swallowing motions; reveling in the sensation sliding down the back of her throat. It’s so incredibly lewd that the cool woman rubs her thighs together in delight as another strong tightening runs from between her legs, up the length of her back, and sets off fireworks in the back of her head. And amidst the wonderful colors, one thing rings out clearly.

The very idea of being covered is getting her off!

Unsure if she’s feeling disgusted or liberated by the thought, the woman whimpers as she opens her eyes. With a trembling breathlessness, she makes a show of dragging her index finger along her cheek and hen placing it between her lips. Sucking the imaginary cream clean off, she looks back up at the non-existent entity and smirks.

“So, do I look every part the pale, cool ice queen?” The dildo doesn’t reply, but that’s more than enough for Cloudy’s solo-roleplay; she simply stunned him into silence. Placing the rigid rock half under her daughter’s pillow, the dark haired woman gets to her feet and smoothes out the bed. After a short stint of cleaning and grabbing her phone, the mother of four glances back at the dildo one last time and smirks. “I realize you might be my daughter’s toy first, but you shouldn’t forget what a real woman with real experience can do.”

Stepping out into the hall, Cloudy closes the door behind her. With a trembling breath, she rubs her thighs together and gives a short laugh, still feeling the illusionary spunk sticking to her face. “I thought the whole point of fantasizing was to avoid clean up afterwards?”

Still, the forty-something woman doesn’t mind too much as she makes her way to the master bedroom and strips out of her modest dress. It hits the ground with a small swish and Cloudy then takes off her underwear and steps out of her flats. Feeling delightfully naughty for some reason, the usually stern woman leaves her clothing scattered across the floor, moving to the bathroom with a well practiced heel-to-toe stride.

Standing under the shower head, Cloudy closes her eyes and lets the steadily warming water wash over her nude body. Her arms are not overly developed, but still look as though they might belong to a woman in her prime; still firm and supple but slowly giving way to the passage of time. Likewise, her formerly calloused hands are still tough from years of labor, but smoother than they were before in many spaces, creating a wonderful dynamic between hard pads and joints, and the teasing tenderness of her palms.

Still half-floating in between fantasy and reality, the stern woman slides her hands over her face, smearing and spreading the imaginary fluid from its present place. Some of the wrinkles on her face begin to smooth over, but remain around her eyes and lips, giving her standard serious expression that much more weight. Pulling loose the elastic and letting the formerly bun-held hair fall around her neck, Cloudy runs her talon-like nails through her hair, oblivious that with each tug the tresses thicken and stretch further away from her scalp.

Meanwhile, the steady stream of water tugs the spectral spunk lower, down across her thinning, elegant neck and leaving not-quite perfectly pale skin in its place. She does, after all, spend a fair amount of time outdoors, but it simply wouldn’t be right for the mother of three pale, gothy-girls to sport a tan. So as her entire body begins to take on a milkier quality from head to toe, the shower continues to beat down on her body and her chest begins to tingle.

“Already? But I just came twice,” Cloudy moans, reaching up and cupping her breasts. Like much of the rest of her body they are modest, bordering on petite handfuls. Strangely unexpected for a woman who had given birth to four truly staked girls. But as she works more of the mentally constructed chum into her chest, that quickly begins to change.

Minutes of massage later, the mother of four is unquestionably sporting the most massive mams in the house, still riding high on account of the muscles she’s developed through years of yard labor. They still hang a bit, an indication of their heft and weight as they bump against her now solid abs, each gentle jerk from between her legs causing her breasts to bounce in the most delightful way. But it’s still not enough.

“I suppose,” she purrs, sliding her long fingers between her legs again, “that I can tickle the ivories before Igneous gets home…”

With the magic waning, Cloudy’s now more muscular body jerks as she pleasures herself under the showerhead. There is a twinge of guilt in the matriarch’s belly, as she’s already gone over the daily orgasm limit that she’s agreed upon with her husband. Has it been three, four, or even five times now? Has she truly lost track? Feeling her face burn with a mixture of embarrassment and delight, she resolves to set things right as soon as she is able. And then the orgasm hits, and the world goes wobbly.

===

It’s an hour later when Igneous Rock comes home for the day. Hanging up his coat and hat by the door, he moves into the bedroom and sighs, seeing Cloudy Quartz’s clothes still scattered about. Lifting his nose, he can still catch the faint whiff of arousal and shakes his head.

“At least she made it home. Cloudy, you still here?” he calls, unbuttoning his way down his shirt. When there is no response, he grumbles under his breath and places his arms behind his back to slide out of the sleeves. But as he does there is an audible pair of clicks, and a sudden weight situated above his palms. The shirt slides down his arms, but catches just above his wrists.

“I’m here, Ig,” the familiar voice of his wife murmurs. The floor creaks a little as she hops up onto her toes, and the stoic, stone-faced man can feel two sizeable somethings press into his back. Still damp too, and he shivers slightly as the moisture from his wife’s broad bust seeps into the back of his undershirt. “I’ve been waiting for you for what feels like ages.”

The last word rolls off her tongue like a lurid promise, punctuated with a gentle kiss on the back of his neck and a slow, trailing finger along his waist. The father of four works his arms gently, earning a laugh from his wife. “Oh Ig, don’t be such a stick in the mud. That’s why I had to borrow these handcuffs in the first place.”

“It isn’t right, Cloudy,” Igneous gulps, trying his best not to tremble as his wife’s skilled fingers begin working at the clasp of his belt. “What if one of the girls were to come home and see us like this?”

Another kiss and a victorious grunt of hot air against his neck as Cloudy succeeds in unbuckling the belt. “Well, then I imagine that we’d shut the door,” she says plainly, deft fingers managing the button and zipper with ease, opening the way to her favorite place in the entire house. Reaching down between her husband’s legs, the ice queen shivers and watches Igneous melt under her bare touch. He manages a few short gasps, but can’t piece together any opposition; just the way Cloudy likes.

“Now,” she purrs, stroking him gently, “I want to talk to you about raising my limit; three simply isn’t enough.”

“It’s four,” Igneous croaks, earning a surprised sound from his wife.

“Oh? Well, I was thinking that it might be better if it were seven. Or eight.” Clutching his husband’s shaft tightly in her hand, she strains further up on her toes and whispers in his ear, “Unless of course, you’re feeling frisky enough to give me more of that sweet love I’m craving? Come on, Ig, three nights a week is hardly enough.”

Her husband gasp-groans out a strangled response that she can’t even hope to understand, but Cloudy’s smile never falters. If he won’t give it up willingly, then she’ll just have to be a little more creative from now on. After all, once he’s in the palm of her hand, Cloudy is sure that she can get her husband to do anything she wants. Not that anyone would expect anything less from a former ice queen of Canterlot High.