Time to make the donuts

Dedicated to my favourite double baker.

>Day Raritan in Equestria.
>It's time.
>You haul yourself out of bed and crack your neck and shoulders.
>The routine is well practiced for you, but you never manage to shake the lethargy that sticks to you at this hour.
>You yawn, stretch and open the curtains to see the glorious ass crack of dawn.
>The sunlight streams through gap in the twin hills that dominate your bedroom's view.
"Celestia never fails to impress. Well, time to make the ponuts."
>You get out of bed and get on with your preparations before work.
>It's not much - shit, shower, shave.
>Get dressed, get your breakfast.
>Search for your keys, find them in the same place you always leave them.
>Almost forget your little paper hat.
>That's all important for working at Pony Joe's.
>He'd skin you alive if he saw you working without it.
>He takes his job very seriously.
>And to be fair, while you do the same, you also see the fun side of it.
>Not many people get to do what you do, and so you try to enjoy it as much as possible.
>There's no time to waste, however.
>The ponuts won't make themselves, and you've got to get in early to satisfy the morning rush.
>So you speed off to work, and arrive with time to spare.
>Good.
>That means you can take your time today.
"Morning, Joe."
>"Mornin' Anon. Whatcha takin' today?"
"Gimme an espresso."
>Joe gets to work at the coffee machine, fulfilling your request.
>You'd do it yourself, but Joe's the one who always handles the coffee.
>It's his job, after all.
>You handle the rest.
>"Hohoho. Burned out? What were you doin' last night to make you need the hard stuff?"
"None of your business, but I was on a date."
>Joe whips his head around in shock.
>"What?! I hope you're still good to-"
"Of course. Don't worry. I didn't get lucky last night."
>"I dread to think what would happen if you did get lucky..."
"You'd go out of business."
>Joe finishes up and hands you a tiny mug filled with bitter, black liquid nectar.
>You take it and knock it back in one gulp.
>"Don't joke about that, Anon..."
"Ahh... You know I kid, Joe. Even then, you know how to make the ponuts, don't you?"
>Joe looks at you with a long stare.
>"I'm not sure I could bring myself to do that, Anon."
"That's why I'm the best."
>You slam down the mug and leave Joe to his business, setting up the coffee machines for the morning rush.
>You, however go down into the basement.
>Unlike most of Canterlot’s underground storage, the basement to Pony Joe's Coffee Shop is decorated quite extravagantly.
>The walls are covered in high quality wallpaper to prevent dampness, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling.
>Even the skirting board is encrusted with gems of all kinds of colours.
>She wouldn't have it any other way.
>You unlock the door and enter.
>"Hmm? Is it that time already, darling?"
"Yeah. Time to make the ponuts."
>The white unicorn that you roused with your entry gets up from her velvet pillow and stretches her forelegs in front of herself.
>"Ahh... I thought you'd stocked up plenty already, Anon."
"You know how popular they are, Rarity. Nobody can resist your taste."
>It's true.
>Pony Joe's is famous in Canterlot for two things:
>Coffee
>And powdered marshmallow assholes.
>Not that you call them that.
>Not good for marketing, of course.
>So ponuts were born.
>"Do we need filling today?"
"Do you want to need filling?"
>Rarity pauses to look at you with a sly grin.
>"Of course, Darling. I think it really compliments my flavour, don't you?"
>You smirk at her comment.
"Yeah. I think we go well together."
>You drop your trousers and pants to reveal your already expanding girth.
>Rarity licks her lips and stalks towards you.
>She knows what to do.
>With a well practiced stroke, she brings her immaculately manicured hoof to your member.
>Immediately your nerves are set alight with the texture of her silky smooth coat on your skin.
>She strokes up and down, long and slow, with the clear intention of exciting you.
>Soon you reach your full height, and Rarity takes you into her mouth.
>It's hot and wet - prepared especially for you with Rarity's saliva in anticipation of your entrance.
>Her expert tongue dances along the underside of your shaft, teasing you in the most delightful ways possible.
>She starts bobbing her head up and down on your length, keeping a tight seal with her lips so as not to let any of her warm wetness escape.
>When she decides you're ready, she releases you with a pop.
>"Ready, dear?"
"Always, Milady."
>"I love it when you call me that."
>Rarity turns around to reveal her prize.
>Situated just above her dripping slit is the tight ring of bunched muscle that you so desire.
>Her tail swishes to and fro with excitement for what is coming next.
>You grasp the purple locks firmly and position yourself for entry.
>Rarity takes a deep, hissing breath through her teeth as she feels your slickness coating her ponut.
"Time to make the ponuts."
>You push yourself into Rarity's asshole, noting the ease at which you glide into her.
>She's well used to this, having practiced every day to accommodate your girth.
>Instead of exhibiting any pain, she closes her eyes in bliss and moans into her hoof.
>Her moans continue as you start to move back and forth.
>She relishes in the feeling of fullness in her abdomen.
>"Yessss... Fill me, Anon! Fill me up!"
>Whenever she gets into it, she loses all semblance of composure.
>She loves to scream your name as you pound into her.
>So you'd better not disappoint.
>You give the lady what she wants by speeding up.
>The sound of slapping flesh echoes around the basement walls.
>You can feel her coat briefly on your thighs every time you hilt yourself, which is happening with ever increasing frequency as you thrust into her anus.
>It teases you and reminds you of the plushness of the pony beneath you.
>She takes such care of herself usually until you come along.
>And then you turn her into a dishevelled, quivering mass of marshmallow flesh.
>It never stops her craving more, however.
>Over and over you slam your hips against hers.
>You can feel her tightness wrapped around you in a stifling grip.
>It milks you on your way out for your seed.
>And it's doing a good job.
>You can feel yourself approaching your peak, and soon enough your balls rumble with the familiar feeling of climax.
>You hilt yourself one last time as you release your load deep into Rarity's intestines.
>It floods her rectum, spilling out around the seal between your cock and Rarity's anus.
>Rarity groans with delight as the warmth she feels in her bowels radiates within her, and sets her own orgasm into blossom.
>"M-marvellous, darling..."
>You extricate yourself from Rarity's grip with a grunt of exertion.
"You ready?"
>"As always."
>You grab the knife from the wall and the tray from the table.
>Rarity pokes her white butt in the air, inviting you to finish off what you started.
>You carefully wiggle the knife between her cheeks and use its tip to make a tiny incision at the edge of Rarity's raised anal sphincter.
>With one deft motion you slice off a ring of Rarity's anus.
>Rarity, being a marshmallow food pony, regenerates almost instantaneously.
>She turns to you with a big smile.
>"What's taking you so long, Anon?"
"Just wanted to make sure you savoured it."
>You waste no time in pleasing the marshmallow pony by slicing off ring after ring of filled ponut holes.
>Rarity shivers each time, as she takes pleasure in the emulation of being eaten.
>Such is the life of a food pony.
>Your seed lies trapped within each of the clenched ponut rings.
>It's a good thing, too, since it's the secret ingredient that drives ponies wild.
>Soon enough you have a tray full of puffy, white rings, filled with your cream.
>Rarity lies, exhausted, but lights up her horn to levitate a powder puff over to you.
>"And now for the finishing touches."
>She lightly dusts each ring with the fine sugar, and after she's finished, she takes the time to powder herself.
>"There. Magnifique."
"Thanks Rarity. I'm sure these will sell out in no time." You say with a wink.
>"Oh, I've no doubt about that. I think it's our finest work, yet. In fact, I'm counting on it." She says with another lick of her plump lips.
>You can feel yourself rising to the challenge of baking once more.
>But for now you take your spoils upstairs to the shop, quietly proud of the fact that,
"I made the donuts."