{ "submission_id": "2471710", "keywords": [ { "keyword_id": "243", "keyword_name": "belly", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "32177" }, { "keyword_id": "15820", "keyword_name": "bloated", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1132" }, { "keyword_id": "16019", "keyword_name": "butt plug", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1769" }, { "keyword_id": "7620", "keyword_name": "enema", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "755" }, { "keyword_id": "123", "keyword_name": "female", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1105644" }, { "keyword_id": "240", "keyword_name": "inflation", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "16339" }, { "keyword_id": "1490", "keyword_name": "mare", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "19994" }, { "keyword_id": "6107", "keyword_name": "mlp", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "70806" }, { "keyword_id": "17363", "keyword_name": "plugged", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "220" }, { "keyword_id": "1492", "keyword_name": "pony", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "107149" }, { "keyword_id": "3729", "keyword_name": "relaxing", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "3363" }, { "keyword_id": "1050", "keyword_name": "round", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1732" }, { "keyword_id": "212", "keyword_name": "shower", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "9050" }, { "keyword_id": "948", "keyword_name": "story", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "14324" }, { "keyword_id": "348167", "keyword_name": "tera bit", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "48" }, { "keyword_id": "917", "keyword_name": "water", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "17471" } ], "hidden": "f", "scraps": "f", "favorite": "f", "favorites_count": "58", "create_datetime": "2021-06-20 23:27:00.543076+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "21 Jun 2021 01:27 CEST", "last_file_update_datetime": "2021-06-20 23:26:51.774541+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "21 Jun 2021 01:26 CEST", "username": "Difetra", "user_id": "345799", "user_icon_file_name": "136465_Difetra_terapone2x100.gif", "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/136/136465_Difetra_terapone2x100.gif", "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/136/136465_Difetra_terapone2x100.gif", "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/136/136465_Difetra_terapone2x100.gif", "file_name": "3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s_noncustom.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s_noncustom.jpg", "thumb_medium_noncustom_x": "120", "thumb_medium_noncustom_y": "83", "thumb_large_noncustom_x": "200", "thumb_large_noncustom_y": "139", "thumb_huge_noncustom_x": "300", "thumb_huge_noncustom_y": "208", "files": [ { "file_id": "3628507", "file_name": "3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "mimetype": "image/jpeg", "submission_id": "2471710", "user_id": "345799", "submission_file_order": "0", "full_size_x": "1500", "full_size_y": "1040", "screen_size_x": "920", "screen_size_y": "638", "preview_size_x": "300", "preview_size_y": "208", "initial_file_md5": "d5baf131042a8e945f484ef76f46db32", "full_file_md5": "47d4d599116ad753302a0acef15d4e6e", "large_file_md5": "83e1fcf692b7f6f0886d03aa64ce826b", "small_file_md5": "a600432ef14b561654e77110abdb573c", "thumbnail_md5": "fad08170b04b195a75e64d434401b954", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2021-06-20 23:26:51.774541+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "21 Jun 2021 01:26 CEST", "thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s_noncustom.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/3628/3628507_Difetra_showerredux_s_noncustom.jpg", "thumb_medium_noncustom_x": "120", "thumb_medium_noncustom_y": "83", "thumb_large_noncustom_x": "200", "thumb_large_noncustom_y": "139", "thumb_huge_noncustom_x": "300", "thumb_huge_noncustom_y": "208" } ], "pools": [], "description": "Long time no see Tera. Redo of [url=https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17161151/]a painting[/url] from nearly 6 years ago I thought would be fun to see. Tossit kindly wrote a little story to go along with it. \n\n-----\nRespite\nTera walks, stumbles rather, into her condo, paying nowhere near enough mind as she throws her door shut behind her with an ill-aimed thrust from her prosthetic horn. It was a long, hard, frustrating day at work, to put it [i]very[/i] lightly.\nShe hangs her saddlebags by the door and rifles through them with bleary eyes before pulling out her notebook computer. It hangs in the air for a moment, shaking in her aural grip, before she sets it as carefully as she can on the counter, tries to plug it in three or four times, and by some miraculous effort succeeds, before wandering herky-jerky to her couch and flopping onto it, trying to rest, failing.\nThe only saving grace of the day was that nopony nobody got hurt. Besides that, it was a train wreck.\nFirst, it was fieldwork, outdoors, in the heat, and Tera couldn't find her sunglasses. Her eyes [i]still[/i] sting, a little less when they're closed, but she's too wound up to keep them shut. Though on the other hoof she'd had her hat, so she's not [i]blind[/i], or else keeled over of sunstroke. (The ice water helped in that respect, though they always have that.)\nSecond, her manager took his bad day to work with him. On a good day, Ramirez is a perfectly fine manager—definitely competent, business-minded, but his focus is contagious. But so is his irritability. When he takes his bad mood to work, he has enough sense not to do anything that would get him fired, and on some bad days gets more work done than on his \"better\" days, but he is tense and terse and tries to bury himself in the work he can do on his own, and takes some minor quarrel or disagreement or misunderstanding as a personal offense. He acts as if he were cursed to deal with incompetents. And while a glowering raccoon is annoying enough to deal with when he's hunched behind a desk, when he has no desk to hide behind, he is that much worse.\nApparently he got stuck in a traffic jam on the way out to the site. That's all it was. After that it fed on itself.\nThird, while Redline did its damnedest to pick their employees for their talent, the company picked its clients for their money. The client apparently couldn't be bothered to come to the site personally, so some incompetent lackey with a clipboard full of notes showed up instead. That wasn't necessarily a problem—Redline prided itself on its honest work, or at least Ramirez did. If any old gofer with a clipboard had shown up, the team would have walked through the checklist with them, seen if anything were missed or not up to par, made a note of it.\nBut this gofer—with an F, as in \"go fer coffee\"; he was a zebra, not that anyone cared—had an incompetence only matched by his arrogance. His favorite sentence was \"I know what I'm doing,\" which was incorrect every single time it was spoken. At one point, he was mad that something was about eleven by seven meters when it should have been seven by eleven. Then he noticed that the blueprint had been rotated. His response to the discovery of this error?\n\"North needs to be marked more clearly on this.\"\nThat was about the tenor of the entire day, and Tera would be glad it's over if she weren't so disappointed and frustrated at the world for allowing it to happen to begin with. Now she's home, finally, after a thankfully uneventful ride, still motionless on her couch, staring at a blank black rectangle. She could put some mindless entertainment on it, if she could be bothered. She's too exhausted, still too stressed. Her stress has a stink. It makes the stress worse.\nThe stink—it's probably sweat—is probably soaking into her couch cushions, come to think of it, and she doesn't want to have to clean them later.\nShe carefully lowers herself back down onto the floor, standing almost on a foal's unsure legs, before walking—she couldn't manage a trot if she tried, not right now—back across the room, looking down an adjacent hall, toward her bathroom. In said bathroom is no bath, rather a shower stall. She intends to use it. (Well, as far as she can intend anything right now.)\nTera hobbles into the bathroom, turns on the light, lets the drone of the vent fan suppress the buzz inside her mind. Her shower stall is open, and she has a towel, but there's no soap of any sort in the stall itself, because of course she can't just hop, well, flump in and let the water flow over her, that would be too easy. She opens the counter.\nThere's soap, well, body wash, but there's also a clear plastic bin, inside which are a couple of flexible hoses with nozzles and such, a pressure regulator or two, all connected to each other. There's a rather pleasantly shaped plug stored alongside them.\nTera stares at the assembly of her own design for a minute, her train of thought draining of words.\n... that would be quite nice actually.\n(She does remember to grab some soap.)\nTera assembles the line of hoses and such. Thankfully for her, Tera from the past had the foresight to use quick-connectors for everything. Once everything's snapped together, Tera snaps the assembly into place in the bottom attachment of her custom-built forked shower. The top has a normal shower head. She had two outputs put in herself.\nThere's a sliding mechanical switch installed next to the normal handle. Push it all the way up and the water will only come out of the top part. All the way down and it comes out the bottom. For a moment, Tera considers going half-and-half, but decides against it. She originally came in here to shower, and she's going to do that. She turns the shower on. A warm, relaxing artificial rain splashes over her sagging spine.\nShe's still wearing her prosthetic horn. It's waterproof, and she's not done using it. She opens the bottle of body wash with said horn, backs up out of the stream, squirts some on herself, and then lathers up with a brush. For a second, she lets herself sit, coated in bubbles. She can feel the air in the stall start to steam up. She's nowhere near complaining. The second stretches into a minute's hard-earned respite, bubble-coated mare watching with half-lidded eyes as the shower runs, its sound approaching the lovely loud silence of white noise.\nThat said, she is still getting a little cold, so she pulls herself back into the water and lets it all fall from her coat and disappear down the grate.\n... The gofer—Bob, was his name—somehow managed to communicate, through his own pride and occasional hackle-raising contests with Ramirez, that the client had changed parameters.\n\"When?\" Ramirez asked.\n\"It was in an email sent this morning, surely you've read it. You are a professional, after all, aren't you?\"\n\"One, I don't need your guff. Two, no, I was stuck in traffic.\"\n\"Are your notifications disabled on your work messages? That seems ill-advised.\" Oh, yeah, one of Bob's favorite tricks was casually accusing his conversational partner of some small crime or another.\n\"...no...\" He wasn't. \"Is there...\" A quick check. \"There is no message.\"\n\"Check your junk box then.\" Another was offering obvious advice.\n\"[i]I'm doing that.[/i]\"\nThere was no message. Apparently the client had sent it to an \"ramires\", with an S. The intended recipient was Nelson Ramirez, with a Z. Figuring that out was an hour in the burning sun that nobody got back.\nSo no one knew what they were designing, nobody really knew why they were there, and so everyone burned under a canopy for nine hours while manager and gofer had an ego measuring contest, then they all trudged the kilometer back to the nearest pick-up point, dragging a bunch of survey equipment nobody ended up needing.\nTera's time spent reminiscing about her awful day was more than enough to rinse all the soap off of her, so at this point she's just letting warm water fall onto her back and shoulders. Which there's something to be said for, granted. But she did bring her toy in here.\nWith her horn, she pulls the slider down. The water cuts off from the shower head, instead gushing out of the nozzle at the end of her contraption. Her eyes scan up its length. No leaks. Good. She slides the slider back up—water pouring from said nozzle, while the point, makes it annoying to put in place. While soaking herself once more, she lines up the nozzle, and herself.\nAnd then up her ponut the nozzle goes.\nShe grunts a little—you'd think she wouldn't be a little too hard on herself every single time, but hey, it's hard to judge—and then slides the switch again. Warm water floods out of hose, into rump, and Tera can feel herself start to swell. She minds it not one bit.\nThat said, it takes a minute, a minute Tera's buzzing mind takes to reflect. She still has a headache, though it's starting to fade. The shower helped. Her project has to start over largely from square one, what with the client making new, impossible demands. But either way, she's getting paid, and she can recycle some already-done work. It's not a completely new deal. Some parameters were changed. It's nothing she can't handle, especially once she gets a clearer head. Things should be fine.\n[i]Click.[/i]\nTera comes to. The pressure cutoff on the inflator just tripped. Tera pauses to contemplate her work, gingerly rubbing it with a forehoof. She's well-practiced in the subtle art of self-ballooning, and she's become a bit more flexible as time has passed. At this point, she can, and does, safely hold a large sphere of water inside her, somewhere between a quarter and a third of her uninflated weight. She can feel its pressure pushing against the rest of her insides and stretching her pelt taut.\nShe can feel its warmth, as well. In its own odd way, it's comforting.\nWell, let's keep it there. She pulls the nozzle out, clenches her rump—though she can only do so much against the overpressure; a little trickles as she quickly works—then she picks up the plug, aims, [i]shoves,[/i] surprises herself [i]again[/i] and drops onto her rump with too loud, somewhat painful a [i]thump[/i]. Her belly warps and wobbles a little, more pleasurable than painful—though some measure of both—and then settles down, and it's just weight again, water inside her, bleeding warmth, granting comfort.\nShe pops her prosthetic horn out of its socket and sets it aside. The one thing she can control with the plate sutured to her skull is the horn itself. But the horn's psychic interface is much louder, for want of a better term, than the plate's, so when she takes it out, she's that much closer to a meditative peace.\nShe's going to lie down in a second, but for a moment she rests her weight on her left forehoof, letting her right foreleg slide across her belly, rubbing it, stroking across herself, her hind legs crossed as she sits on the tile.\nHer eyes close. They don't sting anymore. She breathes, for a moment, the steamy air soothing her airways.\nThings should be fine.\nHer hoof traces soft, supple circles along the taut coat of her belly.\nThings [i]will[/i] be fine.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Long time no see Tera. Redo of a painting from nearly 6 years ago I thought would be fun to see. Tossit kindly wrote a little story to go along with it.

-----
Respite
Tera walks, stumbles rather, into her condo, paying nowhere near enough mind as she throws her door shut behind her with an ill-aimed thrust from her prosthetic horn. It was a long, hard, frustrating day at work, to put it very lightly.
She hangs her saddlebags by the door and rifles through them with bleary eyes before pulling out her notebook computer. It hangs in the air for a moment, shaking in her aural grip, before she sets it as carefully as she can on the counter, tries to plug it in three or four times, and by some miraculous effort succeeds, before wandering herky-jerky to her couch and flopping onto it, trying to rest, failing.
The only saving grace of the day was that nopony nobody got hurt. Besides that, it was a train wreck.
First, it was fieldwork, outdoors, in the heat, and Tera couldn't find her sunglasses. Her eyes still sting, a little less when they're closed, but she's too wound up to keep them shut. Though on the other hoof she'd had her hat, so she's not blind, or else keeled over of sunstroke. (The ice water helped in that respect, though they always have that.)
Second, her manager took his bad day to work with him. On a good day, Ramirez is a perfectly fine manager—definitely competent, business-minded, but his focus is contagious. But so is his irritability. When he takes his bad mood to work, he has enough sense not to do anything that would get him fired, and on some bad days gets more work done than on his "better" days, but he is tense and terse and tries to bury himself in the work he can do on his own, and takes some minor quarrel or disagreement or misunderstanding as a personal offense. He acts as if he were cursed to deal with incompetents. And while a glowering raccoon is annoying enough to deal with when he's hunched behind a desk, when he has no desk to hide behind, he is that much worse.
Apparently he got stuck in a traffic jam on the way out to the site. That's all it was. After that it fed on itself.
Third, while Redline did its damnedest to pick their employees for their talent, the company picked its clients for their money. The client apparently couldn't be bothered to come to the site personally, so some incompetent lackey with a clipboard full of notes showed up instead. That wasn't necessarily a problem—Redline prided itself on its honest work, or at least Ramirez did. If any old gofer with a clipboard had shown up, the team would have walked through the checklist with them, seen if anything were missed or not up to par, made a note of it.
But this gofer—with an F, as in "go fer coffee"; he was a zebra, not that anyone cared—had an incompetence only matched by his arrogance. His favorite sentence was "I know what I'm doing," which was incorrect every single time it was spoken. At one point, he was mad that something was about eleven by seven meters when it should have been seven by eleven. Then he noticed that the blueprint had been rotated. His response to the discovery of this error?
"North needs to be marked more clearly on this."
That was about the tenor of the entire day, and Tera would be glad it's over if she weren't so disappointed and frustrated at the world for allowing it to happen to begin with. Now she's home, finally, after a thankfully uneventful ride, still motionless on her couch, staring at a blank black rectangle. She could put some mindless entertainment on it, if she could be bothered. She's too exhausted, still too stressed. Her stress has a stink. It makes the stress worse.
The stink—it's probably sweat—is probably soaking into her couch cushions, come to think of it, and she doesn't want to have to clean them later.
She carefully lowers herself back down onto the floor, standing almost on a foal's unsure legs, before walking—she couldn't manage a trot if she tried, not right now—back across the room, looking down an adjacent hall, toward her bathroom. In said bathroom is no bath, rather a shower stall. She intends to use it. (Well, as far as she can intend anything right now.)
Tera hobbles into the bathroom, turns on the light, lets the drone of the vent fan suppress the buzz inside her mind. Her shower stall is open, and she has a towel, but there's no soap of any sort in the stall itself, because of course she can't just hop, well, flump in and let the water flow over her, that would be too easy. She opens the counter.
There's soap, well, body wash, but there's also a clear plastic bin, inside which are a couple of flexible hoses with nozzles and such, a pressure regulator or two, all connected to each other. There's a rather pleasantly shaped plug stored alongside them.
Tera stares at the assembly of her own design for a minute, her train of thought draining of words.
... that would be quite nice actually.
(She does remember to grab some soap.)
Tera assembles the line of hoses and such. Thankfully for her, Tera from the past had the foresight to use quick-connectors for everything. Once everything's snapped together, Tera snaps the assembly into place in the bottom attachment of her custom-built forked shower. The top has a normal shower head. She had two outputs put in herself.
There's a sliding mechanical switch installed next to the normal handle. Push it all the way up and the water will only come out of the top part. All the way down and it comes out the bottom. For a moment, Tera considers going half-and-half, but decides against it. She originally came in here to shower, and she's going to do that. She turns the shower on. A warm, relaxing artificial rain splashes over her sagging spine.
She's still wearing her prosthetic horn. It's waterproof, and she's not done using it. She opens the bottle of body wash with said horn, backs up out of the stream, squirts some on herself, and then lathers up with a brush. For a second, she lets herself sit, coated in bubbles. She can feel the air in the stall start to steam up. She's nowhere near complaining. The second stretches into a minute's hard-earned respite, bubble-coated mare watching with half-lidded eyes as the shower runs, its sound approaching the lovely loud silence of white noise.
That said, she is still getting a little cold, so she pulls herself back into the water and lets it all fall from her coat and disappear down the grate.
... The gofer—Bob, was his name—somehow managed to communicate, through his own pride and occasional hackle-raising contests with Ramirez, that the client had changed parameters.
"When?" Ramirez asked.
"It was in an email sent this morning, surely you've read it. You are a professional, after all, aren't you?"
"One, I don't need your guff. Two, no, I was stuck in traffic."
"Are your notifications disabled on your work messages? That seems ill-advised." Oh, yeah, one of Bob's favorite tricks was casually accusing his conversational partner of some small crime or another.
"...no..." He wasn't. "Is there..." A quick check. "There is no message."
"Check your junk box then." Another was offering obvious advice.
"I'm doing that."
There was no message. Apparently the client had sent it to an "ramires", with an S. The intended recipient was Nelson Ramirez, with a Z. Figuring that out was an hour in the burning sun that nobody got back.
So no one knew what they were designing, nobody really knew why they were there, and so everyone burned under a canopy for nine hours while manager and gofer had an ego measuring contest, then they all trudged the kilometer back to the nearest pick-up point, dragging a bunch of survey equipment nobody ended up needing.
Tera's time spent reminiscing about her awful day was more than enough to rinse all the soap off of her, so at this point she's just letting warm water fall onto her back and shoulders. Which there's something to be said for, granted. But she did bring her toy in here.
With her horn, she pulls the slider down. The water cuts off from the shower head, instead gushing out of the nozzle at the end of her contraption. Her eyes scan up its length. No leaks. Good. She slides the slider back up—water pouring from said nozzle, while the point, makes it annoying to put in place. While soaking herself once more, she lines up the nozzle, and herself.
And then up her ponut the nozzle goes.
She grunts a little—you'd think she wouldn't be a little too hard on herself every single time, but hey, it's hard to judge—and then slides the switch again. Warm water floods out of hose, into rump, and Tera can feel herself start to swell. She minds it not one bit.
That said, it takes a minute, a minute Tera's buzzing mind takes to reflect. She still has a headache, though it's starting to fade. The shower helped. Her project has to start over largely from square one, what with the client making new, impossible demands. But either way, she's getting paid, and she can recycle some already-done work. It's not a completely new deal. Some parameters were changed. It's nothing she can't handle, especially once she gets a clearer head. Things should be fine.
Click.
Tera comes to. The pressure cutoff on the inflator just tripped. Tera pauses to contemplate her work, gingerly rubbing it with a forehoof. She's well-practiced in the subtle art of self-ballooning, and she's become a bit more flexible as time has passed. At this point, she can, and does, safely hold a large sphere of water inside her, somewhere between a quarter and a third of her uninflated weight. She can feel its pressure pushing against the rest of her insides and stretching her pelt taut.
She can feel its warmth, as well. In its own odd way, it's comforting.
Well, let's keep it there. She pulls the nozzle out, clenches her rump—though she can only do so much against the overpressure; a little trickles as she quickly works—then she picks up the plug, aims, shoves, surprises herself again and drops onto her rump with too loud, somewhat painful a thump. Her belly warps and wobbles a little, more pleasurable than painful—though some measure of both—and then settles down, and it's just weight again, water inside her, bleeding warmth, granting comfort.
She pops her prosthetic horn out of its socket and sets it aside. The one thing she can control with the plate sutured to her skull is the horn itself. But the horn's psychic interface is much louder, for want of a better term, than the plate's, so when she takes it out, she's that much closer to a meditative peace.
She's going to lie down in a second, but for a moment she rests her weight on her left forehoof, letting her right foreleg slide across her belly, rubbing it, stroking across herself, her hind legs crossed as she sits on the tile.
Her eyes close. They don't sting anymore. She breathes, for a moment, the steamy air soothing her airways.
Things should be fine.
Her hoof traces soft, supple circles along the taut coat of her belly.
Things will be fine.", "writing": "", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Respite", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/jpeg", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "1", "type_name": "Picture/Pinup", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "1", "views": "1107" }