The news was in: Compass Rose, thanks to the fine lovin’ of her wonderful husband Dusty, was officially in the family way. Doc said it was, quote, “multiples, how many we aren’t sure at the moment,” which meant she was gon’ be big and also probably needed to stop mocking Dusty’s accent in her internal monologie, because that was weird.  
 
Thing was, she warn’t wasn’t anywhere near that size yet; at this stage, she figured it was going to happen when it happened, and where she was now was where she was.  
 
She was tapping away at a keyboard, a stylus between her teeth, working on yet another project, failing to realize she had already finished it until she found herself performing the same dang statistical analyses over and over and over and over.  
 
She saved, exported some results, shot them all off to her client in a quick email. Closed her laptop. Sighed, satisfied at a job well done.  
 
Realized she had nothing to do.  
 
Which she hated.  
 
Her mind wandered; she found herself instictively rubbing her belly with one hoof as she pondered the new life growing therein, wondering how big she would get.  
 
She wondered, suddenly, how big she could get.  
 
And then had an idea.  
 
“Honey?”  
Dusty’s voice came around a couple doorways. “Punkin?” (It didn’t quite apply, not yet, but Dusty was getting some practice in.)  
“I’m going to be outside a few minutes if you need me.”  
“M’kay. Love you, hun.”  
“Love you too, sweetie.” And she was out the door.  
 
 
 
It was a hot summer’s day; Compass was already starting to sweat when she got around back and found the garden hose neatly coiled at a corner of the house. She took the (tapered) nozzle in her forehoof and looked around for a second.  
 
No one in sight. (Which made sense; it was her own fenced-off backyard. But still.)  
 
She held the nozzle underneath her with her forehooves, looked around one last time to double-check, aimed, braced, and sat down forcefully upon the nozzle, which penetrated her ponut with a pleasing pop!  
 
“nnnnNNNNNNNnnnn-hnnnn-hnn-hn-haha-ha, ha, haaaaah, huuuuh, hoo!” She hadn’t even started!  
 
She gave the spigot a few quick twists.  
 
Oh, goodness, that was cold, wonderfully so, a sweet, sharp relief against the smothering heat of a still summer’s day. And the stretch of her burgeoning gut against her tightening skin and her chest, and her bladder, and her…and against her marehood, oh, heavens, this was fantastic, and it was all she could do to keep from moaning in delight so loudly as to alarm the neighbors, instead focusing on panting like a dog in—well, in the heat of a summer’s day.  
 
And then she was getting so tight it was starting to hurt, and she turned around to close the spigot, and she had opened it way too wide, oh NO, and she desperately screwed it shut again as her belly got bigger and bigger and tighter and TIGHTER, and there were little pinpricks down her middle, now, she could feel them, and something inside her had kinked, and then miracle of miracles! the spigot stopped turning and the water stopped coming and she collapsed in relief.  
 
Onto the water balloon that was her belly, momentarily adding her weight to its own. “BUCK!”  
 
She thought she would burst, but instead she ended up rolling onto her side, one rear leg stuck in the air, her eyes closed, her forehooves gently, carefully rubbing her distended abdomen, her lungs trying to breath deeply and failing, instead pulling in long, shallow, strained, careful breaths. And besides her breathing, and a few birds, there was silence and all was still.  
 
 
 
After a couple minutes, she realized she had no idea how she was going to get out of this predicament, specifically, how she was going to get a garden hose out of her rear without any thumbs. “Honey?”  
 
“Yes?” Dusty’s office window was open.  
 
…Dusty’s office window was open.  
 
Ah, buck, he heard the whole thing, didn’t he.  
 
“Can you…”  
 
She paused. The pain had died down quite a bit and was now more of an almost pleasant throb. And she was easily within forehooves’ range of the spigot, and wouldn’t turn it up all the way like last time.  
 
This wasn’t quite her edge, was it?  
 
“…nevermind, honey. I’ll be a few more minutes.”