FNF - Best Part of Waking Up/TrixieButt

Can we have some fun with this perky pink ponuthole? – Anon

>There’s something to be said for a routine.
>Every morning you wake up and go through your bathroom ritual before slapping on some clothes and go to work.
>But before you do, you always stop off at Sugar Cube Corner and order a doughnut and some coffee.
>It’s nice, not having to worry about mixing things up.
>The bell chimes overhead as you walk into the bakery, a cheery voice calling from the back
>“NoNongo, is that you? Gimme just a second, I’ll be right out!”
>NoNongo?
>You sigh and settle into your usual seat at the counter.
>As your squirming settles down the double doors to the kitchen burst open, and a mass of pink fur and wildly curly hair rockets out.
>Rumbling her way behind the counter, you catch a whiff of freshly baked bread clinging to her coat and leaving a lingering scent in its wake as she passes you by.
>Your mouth begins to water.
>After several seconds, Pinkie Pie pops up from behind the counter, giving you a big grin and throwing her hooves up into the air.
>“Good morning, friend!”
>Giving her a laugh, you reach out and ruffle her mane between her ears.
>Pinkie giggles and closes her eyes, arching her head up into your touch, her hairs hungrily hooking at your fingers as you pull them away.
“Good morning, Pinkie.”
>As though snapping out of a daze, the perpetually peppy pink pony shakes her head and gives you a big smile.
>“What can I get for you today?”
>There’s a hopeful sparkle in those big blue eyes, as though there were any question.
“Coffee and a doughnut, if you would.”
>While you smile at the sugary sweet baker, Pinkie makes a frustrated face and buzzes her lips gently.
>“Again? Come on, Anon, you come in here every day at the exact same time, order the exact same thing, and you don’t even stray from your usual topics! That’s so boring, why not try something new today?”



>Pinkie’s peppy smile would be infectious, if you didn’t have the hackles on the back of your neck standing on end.
>She’s trying to interfere with your routine.
>You can’t let that happen!
>You need a killer comeback, and you need it quick.
 “So?”
>Ha, ha party pony! How do you like the taste of Anon’s lightning wit?
>Pinkie doesn’t bat an eye as she giggles.
>“So sometimes a little variety can be fun! Like yesterday, I was going to make a cherry pie, but someone asked for a chocolate pie, so I thought I’d make a chocolate covered cherry pie!”
>With a diabetes inducing smile, the pink pest cocks her head to the side and smiles.
>“It wasn’t very popular, but I think I’m onto something!”
>Once again your brilliance is unappreciated.
>You give a sigh and wave Pinkie off.
“Coffee. Doughnut. Make it happen.”
>“Fiiiine, but you’re going to have to wait a couple minutes. The first batch of the day isn’t ready yet.”
>There’s a twitching that you can feel tugging at the corner of your eye as you watch the baker disappear back into the kitchen.
>She knows you like to keep a schedule.
>Every day that you’ve come in, there have been doughnuts ready to go.
>Why is today any different?
>Come to think of it…
>You glance around the bakery and realize that no one else is here.
>Not even the early birds.
>Figures.
>Pinkie has a slow day and decides to goof off.
>Now she’s behind, and you are too.
>With a sigh, you begin to drum your fingers on the counter.
>The seconds tick by and you finally hop to your feet with a huff of frustration.
“Seriously, how long does it take to make doughnuts?”
>You move around to the other side of the counter and push your way into the kitchen, ready to lay the verbal smack down on the lazy bones.
“Hey Pinkie!”
>The plucky pink pony glances back at you and offers an unusual smile.
>It’s comparable to her usual cheery, upbeat grin, but there’s something else lurking behind it.



>“Took you long enough.”
>Half lidded eyes meet yours and after several lingering seconds, she shoots a glance back towards her hindquarters.
>You feel your eyes shift.
>There, beneath a slightly shifted mass of curly tail on Pinkie’s pronounced posterior, lies the mare’s perfectly plump pucker.
>As though sense your gaze, it shudders and pulses with a power you can’t imagine.
>Sweat dribbles down the back of your neck as the syrupy sweet temptress’ tones tickle your ears.
>“You’ve been here for a while, Anonymous. A long, long, while.”
>She tickles her breathy words with the tip of her tongue, sending an uncomfortable amount of blood southward as your eyes continue to fixate on the prominently protruding pink pucker.
>“And I know you haven’t been taking care of your baser needs.”
>Pinkie’s rubbery rectum seems to gasp for air as it opens and closes ever so slightly a few times in rapid succession.
 >The sweat on your neck has become a veritable river by this point.
>In desperation, you rip your eyes away from Pinkie’s plot and look to her face.
>Big mistake.
>Those beautiful blues bat briefly before the mare sighs and continues.
>“I can smell it on you, can feel it in the electric touch of your fingers through my mane. Poor human, all worked up and nopony to take care of your needs.”
>A coppery tang assaults your tongue and you realize that you’ve busted your lip by biting down too hard.
>The moment of clarity allows you to form some sort of defensive statement.
“I, I just want a doughnut… a-and some coffee.”
>Pinkie giggles and leans her weight forward on the table.
>Hefting a hoof, she reaches backward and gives her flank a firm smack.
>The delightfully distracting derriere disturbance draws your attention back to her hindquarters.
>Making a show of shifting her hoof, she places the prized pucker on display.



>“How about you change things up today, Nonny?”
>Her body heaves as she gives a strained sigh.
>“Doughnuts have nothing on…”
>As if on cue, your eyes meet again, and you see her caress the next syllables with all the care and attention of a practiced lover; her tongue clicking against her lower lip with the second sound, glossing it to a sublime sheen.
>“Po-nuts.”
>Something inside of you snaps and your body stumbles forward, completely out of control.
>Your quivering fingers reach up and grab Pinkie’s flank, earning a delightful whimper from the presenting party pony.
>At first they sink into the supple flesh, but before long the encounter the firm, muscular base hidden underneath.
>Before you can stop yourself, you bring your palm back and slam it firmly against the mare’s flank.
>The seismic shuddering ripples through Pinkie’s bountiful backside like a stone thrown in water, coupled with a pleased squeal from your pony partner.
>“Ooh, you’re Awful Annie.”
>Swallowing, you take your eyes away from her bodacious butt long enough to say
“Don’t call me that.”
>For emphasis, you drag the ridges of your thumb along her pumped-up pucker.
>The earth pony manages a strangled, affirmative sound as her eyes roll towards the back of her head.
>Good enough, time to get your rocks off.
>Wait, what are you thinking?
>You stand there staring into the abyss, so to speak, watching Pinkie’s plump anus twitch and shudder in anticipation.
>This isn’t right.
>The whole reason you fell into a routine was so that you wouldn’t feel like you had to attend to your needs.
>If you break, then what was the point?
>Wake up, bathroom, dress, coffee and a doughnut.
>You breathe as you feel yourself begin to relax, and the straining in your shorts along with it.
>You can overcome this, just keep thinking about your routine.



>Wake up, bathroom, dress, coffee and a doughnut.
>You’re doing it!
>Wake up, bathroom, dress, coffee and a doughnut.
>Nearly there…
>Wake up.
>Bathroom.
>Dress.
>Coffee and a ponut.
>…
>Not ponut, you meant ponut.
>No, ponut.
>…Ponut!
>Damn it all!
>With a scream, you grab the sides of your head and roar
“FUCK IT! IT’S CLOSE ENOUGH!”
>Pinkie jerks her head back towards you in surprise, but before she can pull away you’ve pulled out your dick and unceremoniously jammed it into her plush pony pooper.
>The concern on the mare’s face disappears in an instant as you begin hammering your hips to her flank.
>“Oooh, oh yeah!”
>Under her quivering weight, the table shudders with each thrust, a thin sheen of drool dribbling from the corner of Pinkie’s mouth as she giggles uncontrollably.
>“More, more! Glaze my ponut!”
>You manage to string together a series of grunts that seem to satisfy the squirmy mare, who responds in short, breathless chirps, sighs, and moans.
>Inside her ravenous rectum, muscles meticulously milk your meat missile with an amateur’s zeal.
>The seconds tick by and you feel her seize up underneath you again and again.
>Pinkie’s usual babbling has devolved into a string of unintelligible words punctuated by grunts and squeals by this point, her cheek pressed firmly against the table.
>At last, you grip her flanks firmly and unleash the orgasm you long denied yourself.
>While you pant, the fog rolls back from your mind, leaving you staring at the mess that you’ve created.
>The pink pony’s eyes are almost entirely white by this point, a puddle of spittle covering the table around her head.
>Her furiously fucked freckle flinches around your softening schlong, making a desperate bid to earn another round.
>You stumble backwards, a slight pop echoing through the kitchen as you hit the wall.



“Oh. Oh jeez…”
>Seeing Pinkie lying there, panic takes over.
>Despite several failed attempts, you manage to stuff your pecker back into your pants and rush out of the kitchen.
>You don’t even bother to look back as you make your way somewhere quiet where you can sort this whole mess out.
>The alley doesn’t do much atheistically, but it does provide you with some piece of mind.
>As things begin to slow down, you think over what happened this morning.
>Obviously, Pinkie wanted it.
>She made that abundantly clear.
>And, it wasn’t bad.
>So there’s that.
>Sure it was rude to rush out and leave her, but if you explain she’ll understand.
>Your heart rate drops to a morn normal level as you smile.
>You even got your morning doughnut!
>…Even if it wasn’t your usual.
>Doesn’t matter though, your routine is still intact!
>And that brings a smile to your face.
>You feel refreshed, like a new man.
>Maybe you shouldn’t have been so prudish about fucking ponies.
>As you step out of the alley and into the light, you stroll towards work.
>But something causes you to stop mid-stride.
>An awful thought rises up in the back of your mind that causes you to shudder.
>All is not right in Equestria.
>You didn’t get your coffee.
“Fucking Pinkie Pie…”



Trixie ass worship
Trixie literally worships Anon's ass. She has custom paintings, clay models and even real photos of it inside her wagon. He doesn't know she exists until one rainy night, she sneaks into Anon's home and begs to feel his butt. He says yes at the price of kinky sex. She agrees before Anon finishes his sentence. – Gadget

>You are the Great and Powerful Trixie.
>And you have a great and powerful problem.
>It’s been tearing away at you for months now.
>What’s worse,
>You can’t even explain why!
>It really is such a simple thing.
>An alien thing…
>A wonderful, luscious, robust, well-muscled, glorious thing.
>A slap across the hoof brings you back to reality.
“Focus, Trixie.  You’ve got the hardest part coming up.”
>That’s right, you need to focus.
>This next part will require all of your formidable skill.
>Catching your tongue between your teeth, you squint down at your project and begin sliding your hooves over the supple curvature of the clay.
>A thrill rolls from the back of your neck all the way down to your tail as you continue to work, moving a shaping tool with your horn every so often as you pluck away at imperfections.
>After all, your work must reflect the beauty you see before you.
>It’s nearly an hour later when you release a shaky sigh and sit back on your haunches.
“Trixie has finished.”
>Donning a small smile, you glance over your latest masterpiece.
>You believe you’ve successfully captured the human Anonymous’ good side with this one.
>Humming to yourself, you give the former block of clay a once over before pausing with a jerk.
>Something is amiss.
>With a quiver in your belly, you lean forward and inspect your ‘masterpiece’.
>After several moments of searching, you glance up at the photograph you were using for reference.
>Then back to the clay.
>Photo, and then the clay again.
>Over and over, each shift of your head becoming more frantic as your eye finally settles upon the right side of your work of art.



>There, on the cheek!
>A dimple where there shouldn’t be one.
>Biting your lip, you pull the shaping knife over again.
“Ugh, how could Trixie have missed that?  Well, just a little adjustment…”
>As you begin to smooth out the supple medium, a crash of thunder roars through the sky, causing your transport to shudder.
>You squeal, leaping eye into the air at the unexpected sound.
>As the sound rumbles off into the distance, you glare out the small window of your wagon and curse.
>Stupid pegasus ponies, always interrupting you with their weather patrol.
>Turning back to more important things, you…
>You freeze.
>Somehow, during the thunder debacle, your knife slipped and cut off a decent portion of your project.
“No… oh no, no, no!”
>Hissing through your teeth you frantically try to fix what those featherbrains wrought, the murky grey lump squelching as it presses into the rest of the clay.
>After several minutes of persistent patting, you finally have it back in place.
>But now everything else has been thrown off.
>Huffing, you pull out your shaping knife again and begin to work the clay.
>Right up until the portion you reattached falls off again.
>Your eyes go red with fury.
>Brining your hooves up to your head, you let loose the feral cry of all starving artists.
“ARRRRRGH!”
>In a moment of clouded judgment, you reach out and grab the clay splattering it against the wall with another righteous roar.
“It’s ruined!”
>You turn your eyes to the photograph you were working with.
>In a flash, your horn begins to glow and the picture is torn to shreds.
“Everything’s ruined!”
>You feel the rage overtaking you.
>It is a good pain.
“It all has to go!”
>Papers, fireworks, artwork, and tools fly around your cramped confines, crashing continuously against the enclosed structure.
>With one last roar, you send your telekinetic hostages flying, or in some cases fluttering, to the ground.
>Exhausted, you drop onto the floor and begin to sob.



“Why can’t Trixie do it any more?”
>With a small whimper, you crawl towards an undisturbed part of your wagon.
>Pawing at the latch, it opens revealing a multitude of photographs of the human.
>Another futile sound as you reach for him.
“A-Anonymous…”
>Your fixation.
>Your weakness.
>You can’t get enough of him.
>Or, more accurately…
>Taking a moment, you soak in the atmosphere of your shrine to the human.
>Each picture, while taken at different locations, have something in common.
>Well, two somethings.
>One, Anonymous is unaware of your sneaky shutterbugging.
>And two, they’re all take from the back.
>Well, some are from the side, but still, they all highlight his pronounced posterior.
>The object of your affection.
>You sigh, grabbing the pair of jeans that you stole from him when he was down at the swimming hole with some little fillies.
>Rubbing your cheek against the back of the fabric, you imagine the feel of his fleshy flanks pressing back.
>With another longing sigh, you glance over some of your other attempts at capturing his glorious glutes.
>They’re not that much different than the sculpture you made, or rather almost made, tonight, sketches, molds, paintings.
>But they all seem to be missing the same ‘something’.
>Something that can’t be captured in photographs.
>Something you have to see for yourself.
>Something you have to…
>Feel.
>You go rigid as an idea strikes you.
“Yes.  Trixie cannot rely simply on her photography skills.  Trixie must know how Anonymous ‘feels’.”
>Perfect.
>It will be done!
>Outside, another rumble of thunder rolls through the area, followed quickly by an onslaught of rain.
>You take a glance at the fat drops splashing on the window and sigh.
>Just your luck.
>The smart thing to do would be to wait it out.
>Anonymous’ tender tuckus will still be attached to him later.
>…




>Setting your lips into a scowl, you move towards your coat closet.
“Trixie does not wait until later.”
>No, she does not.
>The wind and rain whip at your hood, threatening to tear it back in an instant but still you press on.
>Gritting your teeth you stumble along the outskirts of town, nearly blinded by the roaring maelstrom as you trace the familiar route back to Anonymous’ home.
>A faint light in his bedroom guides you close and as you approach his home, the structure helps to block some of the more brutal gusts of the storm.
>At last, you arrive and peek into the human’s abode.
>He’s already fast asleep, sprawled out on his bed and twitching occasionally.
>Suppressing a smile, you open the window with your magic and slip inside.
>Though you’re soaked from your trek over, you can’t contain your excitement as your eyes roam over his prone body.
>And then, you see it.
>Anonymous’ amazing aft.
>Your body quivers as you close the gap; your eyes catching the faint light of the candle and reflecting it back, like two enormous saucers floating through the air.
>As though it has a mind of its own, your tongue flits in and out of your lips, wetting them, preparing for that glorious moment when you get a hooffull of hiney.
>Limbs shaking, you reach out and move to touch his beautiful badonkadonk.
>The human makes a sound, shifting onto his stomach in his sleep.
>You jerk your hoof back and nearly make a break for the window before he smacks his lips and falls back into slumber.
>Letting out a slow breath, you continue your groping adventure, unsure of where you will end up.
>Will it be soft?
>Muscular?
>How much give will it have?
>Sweat pours down your forehead as you approach your goal.
>Hoof hovering over the human’s half-moons, your breath catches.
>This is it.
>This is it!



>“Hey.”
“Eh?”
>With your mouth hanging open, you make a small sound and look towards the head of the bed.
>The human’s face is obscured by his mattress, but he’s managed to fix you with a single, unblinking eye.
>His voice is muffled, but you make out the words clearly enough.
>“What exactly, do you think your doing?”
>Oh.
>No.
>Though you’re not sure how it’s possible, your eyes widen further and you can feel the sweat running down in broad rivers from your forehead.
>Of all the times to get got…
“Um… hi?”
>At last the biped blinks, but only for an instant, not nearly enough time to get away.
>Staring at you again, he turns his head and dons a stern scowl.
>“I asked you a question, pony.”
>Think fast, Trixie.
>He eats meat; he can probably smell your fear.
“Trixie was, uh…”
>You stammer, glancing around and then smiling.
>Pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed, you make an attempt to tuck him back into bed.
“Trixie was passing through and saw that you looked cold.”
>With a flourish, you bob your head and finish your task.
>Nailed it.
>He’s got no choice but to believe you.
>Trixie, you genius!
>Glancing at the blanket, you give another flash of your horn and make sure it’s bunched up around his backside.
>You might be able to salvage this after all.
>Clearing your throat, you turn back to the human.
“So, if you’ll let her smooth out the sheets, Trixie will be goi-”
>The words catch in your throat as you again fall under the spell of the nearly dead eye staring at you.
>He glances to the window, then back to you and shakes his head.
>“Sorry blue unicorn, I’m not buying it.  It’s raining cats and dogs out there.  No pony in her right mind would be out on a night like tonight without a good reason.”
>Actually, it’s raining water, but you’re not going to bother correcting him when he’s staring at you like that.
>“So, what is it?”
>You grit your teeth and attempt a smile.
>If you were to guess, you think that you’d make an excellent circus clown at this point.



“W-well…”
>Don’t you do it Trixie.
>Don’t you bend.
>He’s just a human.
>He’s just…
“T-Trixie wants to feel your human hiney.”
>Well so much for that.
>Now that it’s out in the open, you realize how ridiculous your request is and make a desperate attempt to sink into the floor and disappear.
>Anonymous stares at you for a moment longer then makes a puffing sound with his lips.
>“Wait, seriously?  I don’t even know you.”
>Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out
“You don’t know Trixie, the Great and Powerful!?”
>The human stares at you for a moment and then lets loose a mighty yawn.
>“Well, for being so great and powerful, I ain’t ever heard of you.  Must be bad marketing.”
>Why the nerve of this creature!
>You puff yourself up in an attempt to defend your pride, but his eye brings you pause.
>Perhaps it’s not a good idea to stand up to the carnivore who’s twice your size?
>Clearing your throat, you offer a sheepish smile.
“W-well, it was a pleasure meeting you Anonymous, Trixie didn’t mean to butt in…”
>The human glares.
>Whoops.
“Sorry, Trixie guesses she really bottomed out…”
>Another scowl and the human gets to his feet.
>You’re on a roll Trixie.
>Care to go for three?
“…N-now don’t rear up…”
>Crap.
>You sigh and bring a hoof to your face.
>It’s not fair.
>It’s just not.
>As you rub at your head and wait to get the tongue lashing of a lifetime, you hear the human speak.
>“You’re really fixated on this, huh?”
>Although you try not to, you flinch a little as you glance up and raise an eyebrow.
>Anonymous’ expression has softened a little, and he seems to feel just as awkward in this situation as you do.
>It brings you little comfort, but at least you know you’re not alone.



>With a sigh, the human puts his hand on his hip and shakes his head.
>“Well, I’m just going to say it, your fixation with my butt is pretty weird.”
>How rude.
>“But, if you’re willing to trade, I’ll consider it.”
>…
>Trade?
>A bit of barter perhaps?
>A slow smile worms its way across your face.
>He doesn’t know who he’s messing with.
>You’ve been around Equestria and are the shrewdest, most conniving pony in the land!
>Even Saddle Arabians quiver in fear when they see you coming with a bag of bits!
>The fool doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
>Clearing your throat, you smile.
“Very well, human; Trixie accepts your suggestion.  What do you propose?”
>Anonymous scratches at the side of his face and shrugs his shoulders.
>“All right, one butt grabbing session for a night of kin-”
“DONE!”
>You squeal, and slap your hooves over your face right as the words escape your mouth.
>The human looks confused, but finishes his statement anyway.
>“-ky sex…”
>Oh, no.
>What have you agreed to?
>Whimpering, you consider backing out, but quickly realize you can’t.
>There’s too much ass at stake.
>Stomping your hoof against the ground, you don a determined grimace and nod.
“Trixie still agrees to your terms, human.”
>The biped sighs and shakes his head.
>“My name’s Anonymous…”
>Somewhere in your chest, your heart flutters a bit as you note that he almost looks hurt by your continuous railing against him.
>You quickly squelch it back into place.
>With color seeping into your cheeks, you point to the bed.
“T-T-T-Trixie doesn’t care about your name.  P-present your buttocks!”
>“Right, right.”
>Anonymous gives another heavy sigh and places his hands on the bed, bending at the waist as he does.
>You can feel the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth as you approach, twitching with anticipation.
>While you want the moment to last as long as possible, you don’t want to give the human a chance to reconsider.
>And so you lunge forward.




>The moment of impact is glorious.
>The human… Anonymous’ ass…
>It’s everything you dreamed it would be.
>You spend the next several minutes getting to know the shape and texture, noting the perfect imperfections and simply luxuriating in the feeling of his backside.
>All too soon however, he pulls himself away from and fixes you with a smirk.
>“So there’s my end of the bargain, you ready to pay up?
>Color rushes to your cheeks as you remember what you agreed to.
>Well, no weaseling out of this one.
>With a sigh, you turn and present yourself to him.
“Y-Y-You had better appreciate this, human!”
>A dark chuckle comes from behind you.
>“Oh, I plan on it.”
>There’s a moment of silence and then a hand on your lower back.
>“Oh, and Trixie?”
>You look back and get caught in those eyes of his again.
>“For the rest of the night, it’s Onii-chan, got it?”
>…
>What have you gotten yourself into?