Sweetie-Do-Well and the Curse of the Magical Costume!

by Appleloosan Psychiatrist

Rating: mature
Tags: Sweetie Belle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Porn, Sex, Mare Do Well
Length: 23584

The Thrilling Tale of a Super-Hero Filly Who Can't Stop Cumming!

In an exciting new adventure, our intrepid heroine, the masked vigilante SWEETIE-DO-WELL, is pitted against her most dangerous enemy yet – herself! Can she manage to stop cumming long enough to save herself from the cursed costume, or will her mind drown in pleasure forever? Find out in this week’s exciting installment!

Published 2021-08-11 16:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-08-14 12:05:09 UTC

The Thrilling Origins of Sweetie-Do-Well!

“Does your sister know you’re here?” Twilight cocked her head. The desk behind her was cluttered with scribbled notes and several stacks of books, and the curtains behind them had been drawn. Slivers of the summer sun peeked through, barely illuminating the upstairs study. Sweetie Belle thought it looked kind of gloomy. And smelled kind of dusty.

“Yep!” Sweetie beamed. Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Well, no. Kind of? I mean, she gave me the idea...”

Twilight rolled her eyes, and Sweetie’s grin fell. Between the two lay a neatly folded purple unitard next to a darker cape, hood and wide-brimmed hat. “Magic isn’t a toy, Sweetie Belle. It’s a gift that needs to be respected. I can’t just dole out enchantments for you every time you and your friends want to play dress-up.”

“Superheroes.” Sweetie Belle muttered. She wanted to tell Twilight that she wasn’t ‘playing’ anything - a crimefighting cutie mark certainly wasn’t kid stuff - but she knew how these things went. She’d heard the lectures about Using Your Magic Responsibly before, and no one was more guilty of repeating them than Twilight. The little unicorn frowned, staring at the costume before her.

“Besides, you have a fine costume already.” Twilight turned, levitating her quill out of its well and scratching the parchment once more. “I spoke to Rarity the other day, she was so happy to refit it for you.”

Sweetie’s frown grew, her gaze drifting lower. She had actually asked Rarity to help her refit the old Mare-Do-Well costume. Sweetie Belle had sat at the sewing machine for only a few stressful minutes. Each time her hoof twitched towards the fabric, Rarity had three sentences of panicked critique into her ear. For the sake of both of their nerves, Rarity gingerly nudged her aside. The little unicorn did her best to follow her sister’s technique, but she barely explained anything she was doing. After a good couple of hours, Sweetie Belle had a wonderful new costume, a sister who was very pleased with herself, and the all-too-familiar feeling of being completely unable to do anything herself.

“Yeah. It’s just that-” Sweetie paused. The sound of Twilight’s scribbling filled the silence between them. Letting out a huff through her nostrils, she grabbed the hat between her teeth and slung it into the saddlebags beside her. “Never mind. I can’t even do any dumb magic myself. I’d probably be a lousy superhero anyway.”

That seemed to get Twilight’s attention. Her quill dropped neatly into its well, and Twilight turned, an awkward impression of a reassuring smile on her face. “Oh, Sweetie Belle, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Sweetie shuffled her hooves, still staring at the floorboards. “You’re amazing with magic and stuff. I can barely lift stuff up, let alone do...I don’t know. Useful things.”

“Sweetie Belle, don’t be so down on yourself. Magic is tricky, it takes some time before it begins to really manifest itself. Just because you don’t have the hang of it right now doesn’t mean you - oh my gosh!” Twilight suddenly perked up, startling Sweetie. Quickly trotting over to one of the many shelves that lined the walls, Twilight began scanning the various spines. “Just like The Sentry! You know who The Sentry is, right? From the Fantastic Fillies?”

“Um. No?” Sweetie tried her best to sound interested, but a twinge of irritation couldn’t help working its way into her voice. Twilight’s ears drooped.

“Wow. Really? They were everywhere when I was a - ugh, never mind.” Twilight shook her head, and lit up her horn. A neat stack of thin comic books lifted themselves from the shelves, hovering alongside Twilight as she walked back to Sweetie Belle. Picking out a few, Twilight spread them on the floor in front of her. The Sentry - as proclaimed by the cheesy, overbearing captions on the covers - was a masked unicorn wearing a bright yellow skintight suit. Covering her cutie mark was a black emblem shaped like two F’s, and depending on the cover she was either extremely smug or extremely alarmed.

Sweetie Belle tried to summon up some polite compliment that didn’t mention her ridiculous yellow suit, how big the artist drew her eyes, or how old the issues smelled. She looked back up at Twilight with a nervous smile.

“The Sentry was one of the coolest unicorn heroes out there.” Twilight began proudly. “She came from a family of powerful sorcerers, but she was never very good at magic herself. Her family tried to be understanding, but she hated herself for it. Eventually, she ran away and joined the Royal Guard, attempting to make something of herself and not simply live up to her family name.”

“...You think I should join the Royal Guard?”

“No!” Twilight jumped, then took a deep breath. “Er, no. The thing is, during her combat training, The Sentry discovered her hidden potential - she was able to heighten her senses beyond that of any normal pony! She was my hero when I was growing up! All the other Fantastic Fillies had things like super strength and magical bolts but the Sentry relied on information and planning. Her eyes were like magnifying glasses! She could hear a conversation on the other side of the city! In one issue, she-”

Sweetie Belle had never seen Twilight so excited. She really wished she could do something other than smile with uncertainty. Like leave. Twilight’s story stumbled into mumbling as Sweetie could only stare at her, wide eyed. Leaving Twilight and that growing look of disappointment on her face sounded like a great idea.

“So, yeah.” Twilight said, coughing. “ I mean, she’s pretty cool.” The remains of Twilight’s emphatic gaze fell to the floor, her horn shimmering as the sprawled issues collected themselves into a neat pile. “Anyway. With The Sentry, magic only showed itself when she needed it. That’s how it is for a lot of young unicorns.”

Sweetie was still less than encouraged. “That’s how it was for me, too.” Twilight added with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sweetie admitted. “I just...I don’t know. It’d be nice to know how it feels, even if just for a little while.”

The little unicorn was still staring into the fine, silky fibers of the folded unitard when Twilight said it.

“Maybe…” She trailed off. Sweetie Belle lifted her head as a slight grin crossed Twilight’s face. The older unicorn’s tail began to swish slightly, as she lifted a hoof to her face. “Maybe I can make that costume something special after all, Sweetie Belle.”

“Really?” Sweetie squeaked, her smile big and wide. Twilight giggled as the young unicorn jumped for joy, thanking her over and over again. Sweetie Belle was distantly aware that Twilight was trying to talk, but she too busy to pay attention to that.

Her mind raced. She was going to be a superhero. All those plans she’s drafted up in her room ever since the Mare-do-Well incident a month ago were finally going to be put to use. The designs for an elaborate lair and a series of gadgets that she’d scribbled on drafting paper stolen from her sister were finally going to escape fantasy. She was going to be a superhero.

What could Twilight give her? Twilight was the most powerful spellcaster in all of Equestria, even a filly like Sweetie Belle knew that. She could enchant that suit with anything. Firebreathing. Invisibility. Super speed. Flight. Teleportation or super strength or laser beams or transformation or – oh Celestia, all of them? Twilight could do all of them.

“So,” Sweetie squeaked, interrupting a sentence that she hadn’t heard a single word of. “What are you gonna give me? Make it super speed! No no wait, freeze rays! Invisibility! How many am am I allowed? Wait, make it a surprise!”

Twilight looked at the ceiling and shook her head, a calm smirk on her lips. It was a look that Sweetie Belle had seen reflected in Rarity and her mother many times in the past, and she knew what it meant. Her hopping slowly came to a stop, and she blinked at Twilight.

“I’ve decided I’m going to give you something that will emulate The Sentry’s powers, Sweetie Belle.” Twilight said, levitating the stack of comic books out of the way and pulling a few tomes from the shelves of her library. “Something to enhance your perceptivity and…” Twilight’s sentence trailed off as she skimmed through one of her books, a genuine smile now spreading across her face.

Sweetie’s own smile had dissolved along with her excitement. All of the ideas in her head were clapped out like a candle, but her heart was still racing as if in dim remembrance of the excitement.

“Why…” Sweetie said, feeling somewhere inside her the urge to cry but suppressing it. “...are you gonna give me such lame magic?” Out of all the things in the world, why would Twilight give her that? It’s like she wanted Sweetie to be a talentless pony her entire life.

Twilight was only half paying attention now. “I think this could be quite a valuable experience for you. It’s easy to get carried away with the potential that magic holds, but a firsthand experience with something more passive, more basic…ah!”

Quill and parchment zoomed over Twilight’s shoulder, jotting a few notes as she glanced over one of her open books. If there was one thing Rarity had taught Sweetie Belle, it was that a lady never refuses the kindness of others. Incidentally, Rarity had also taught Sweetie Belle that with enough pushing, a lady can typically use the kindness of others to ensure she got what she wanted.

“Wait, but, Twilight-” Sweetie Belle blurted. “Maybe we can compromise? How about, I can shoot fireballs and do that other thing you wanted me to do?”

“Just a second, I need to concentrate-” Twilight held up a hoof, her eyes firmly glued to her book as her quill scribbled away. The costume lifted itself up, surrounded by the purple glow of Twilight’s magic.

“But, Twilight-!” A bright flash cut Sweetie off. She watched as the costume gently collapsed to the wooden floor. Any further cries of protest fell back down the young filly’s throat, sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. All she could think about was tomorrow - she’d be trailing behind Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, desperate to keep up. She wouldn’t be strong. She wouldn’t be fast. She wouldn’t be anything, and though her friends wouldn’t say anything and pretend it was okay, they would be disappointed. Again, she’d be a disappointment.

Twilight, on the other hand, seemed very pleased with herself. “Looks like the enchantment’s working perfectly. So? Wanna give it a test run?”

“I think I’ll try it on a little later.” Sweetie Belle spoke flatly. As she slung the cape and costume into her bag - she must have imagined that faint tingle when her lips touched the fabric - she took slow steps towards the stairs. “It’s getting late, I should probably get home for dinner.”

“Oh, all right then.” Twilight nodded, her books and notes tidying themselves up. “Just let me know how it works out for you, okay?”

“Okay.” Sweetie Belle looked over her shoulder and faked a smile as best she could. “Thanks, Twilight.”

The stew was kind of gross.

Sweetie Belle slurped the steaming, vaguely turnip-flavored broth in quick, staggered gulps. She wasn’t one to complain about her mother’s cooking, but leftovers night tended to make the little unicorn miss her big sister’s cuisine even more. It also made her wish that leftovers night didn’t happen more often than regular meals.

“What’s the matter, Sweetie?” Her mom asked, peeking her nose over this week’s paperback romance novel. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I’m okay.” Sweetie sat back. As she stared into her murky dinner, she eyed the spoon that lay, untouched, on a napkin next to it. As if she could use it. Her mother shrugged and returned to her book.

“Your father said he’d be back a little late tonight, so don’t bother cleaning up his place.”

Sweetie stared at her own distended reflection in the spoon. Straining, she felt it building in her - a deep, tingling feeling that started at the base of her horn, slowly building towards the tip. A faint white glow enveloped the spoon. She didn’t exactly feel the metal - it was distant, like she was remembering how a spoon felt. Slowly, carefully, the spoon lifted off of the napkin.

“Rarity also gave me a call, she’s stopping by tomorrow to drop off my dress. I told her you might be busy with your friends, but she’ll be by in the morning.”

“Okay, mom.” It was just above the bowl now. Sweetie had never managed to hold something for this long. She tried to keep her excitement under control - the glow keeping her spoon afloat was barely there as it was.

“I also saw Ms. Cheerilee in town today, she mentioned something about summer reading project - have you been keeping up with that?”

“Yeah.” The bottom of the spoon touched the surface of the liquid. She just had to gently push down. Gently, slowly push down. The spoon began to slip from her grasp, and instinctively Sweetie tried to scoop it up. The faint white glow of her magic passed under the surface of the stew and-

“Augh!” Sweetie recoiled, the spoon splashing into the bowl as she rubbed her pounding temple with a hoof. Her mom jumped to her hooves, her own horn glowing as a washcloth flew over from the counter.

“You all right, honey?” The washcloth dabbed at the few spots of stew that had splashed on Sweetie Belle before floating over to soak up the mess on the table. The little unicorn shook her head, then leapt from the table.

“I said I’m okay.” Sweetie snapped as she quickly left the kitchen. Her face felt flushed. She trotted up the stairs to her room, shutting the door before her mom could say anything else.

Sweetie didn’t mean to slam her door, but its echo hung in the air. Her mom wasn’t calling after her - her nose was probably back in that stupid book anyway. Leaning against her wooden door, Sweetie felt the need to cry welling up inside her once more. She wasn’t even sure why she thought she could do magic anyway. Why she thought Twilight could help her.

Her discarded saddlebags lay across the room, untouched since she set them down earlier. Sniffling, she wiped the dampness from her eyes, and trod over to the bright blue bags.

Maybe this would help her feel better, at least.

Turning the bags upside down, she dumped the dark-purple outfit onto her carpet. It made her smile, in a silly kind of way. Mare-Do-Well - the caped, fearless defender of justice didn’t cry. She was brave. She was strong. Much stronger than boring, dumb old Sweetie Belle.

Gripping the front end of the unitard in her teeth, Sweetie stretched the first leg over her own. She didn’t remember it feeling so smooth against her leg the last time she tried this on - it actually felt really nice, sliding up her back leg. The spell couldn’t have been working already, could it?

“Oh.” Sweetie couldn’t help but exclaim softly as she slid her other back leg in. No, the costume definitely didn’t feel this nice before. It was so snug against her, smooth and silky and, did it smell like Rarity’s perfume? It was a soft, subtle scent that she hadn’t noticed before. Sweetie slipped the front legs on and brought one costumed hoof to her nose. It did smell like Rarity, and her bookbags, and Twilight’s dusty study, and oh gosh it felt so nice to just rub that cloth against her sensitive little nose…

Sweetie Belle opened her eyes. She saw herself in the mirror that stood across the room, and quickly removed her hoof from her face. The zipper sat just underneath her back legs. Looking herself in the eye, Sweetie stood up straight and held her chin high.

“I can do this.” She said to the determined filly in the mirror as her horn lit up, a soft glow enveloping the zipper under her belly. “You can do this.”

She gave a quick tug, and the glow of her magic dissipated into thin air. Sweetie stomped her hoof, glared into the mirror harder, and lit up her horn once more. Gently, she tugged at the zipper. The small handle began to move. Sweetie inhaled through her nose. One notch. She pulled just a little harder. Another notch. The glow around the zipper was flickering. Three notches. She exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the headache slowly building at the base of her horn. Another three notches. Sweetie took a deep breath and-

“Yes!” Sweetie cried as the zipper pulled itself up to just below her neck. She jumped and jumped in front of the mirror, her leaps for joy quickly turning into karate kicks, punches and heroic poses. After a moment of jumping around, she stopped to admire the panting filly in the mirror once more.

She was still without her cape and hat, but she looked so much cooler now. She had a confident smirk on her face, and eyes that could stare down even the hardest of criminal masterminds. Pointing a hoof to the mirror, she growled in her deepest, grittiest growl-

“Evildoers beware, for I am…” Sweetie faltered. She needed a name. She wasn’t Mare-Do-Well. She certainly wasn’t The Sentry. If there was one thing Sweetie Belle was sure of, it was that in that moment, she was way cooler than both of them combined.

“For I am...Sweetie-Do-Well!” Sweetie proclaimed before breaking into another series of kicks and punches, pausing every few moments to shoot some form of smug look at herself. As she leapt and bounded across her room, Sweetie began to notice that certain things seemed different. The soft creaks of the floorboards beneath her carpet sounded clear as day - she felt them reverberating through her legs as she pushed away. The wind that blew lazily through her cracked window smelled of all sorts of rich, varied scents, and though that window was all the way across the room, she could hear the wind rushing in like it was some kind of storm. Twilight’s spell was really working! Everything looked so fresh, and smelled so new and felt…

Sweetie stopped. She stretched her back leg out, and sure enough, she felt it again. That silky, soft fabric shifting against her. It felt nice on her legs and her body but it felt so strange in that spot. Just beneath her tail. Sweetie stretched her legs again.

“Oh…” The little unicorn cooed again. She knew she wasn’t allowed to let other ponies touch her back there. Rarity, and Cheerilee, and pretty much every older mare had told her that so many times. But every time she shifted her legs, letting the tight fabric brush against her, it made her want more. She stretched her legs again, one after another and wiggled her lower body, trying to rub the as much of the fabric against herself as much as possible. It felt so much more than nice. Why weren’t ponies allowed to touch her down there? Rarity never explained why, and it felt so...nice didn’t even begin to describe how wonderful it felt...

Sweetie Belle’s face hit the ground, snapping her back to reality. How did she get so carried away? Was it really just from having something touch her back there? She’d worn clothing before, mostly for formal occasions at Rarity’s insistence, but it had never felt like that. Cautiously, Sweetie took long, slow steps across her room.

“Oh. Oh, wow.” After a few paces, Sweetie’s legs were shaking. She meant to keep walking further, but all her legs would do was shift and shift, coaxing out that wonderful feeling again. With each rub of the fabric, it felt like it lingered more. It made Sweetie breathe quick and hard. Whatever it was, it was amazing.

The little unicorn felt like she was going to lose her balance again. Steeling herself, she took quick, awkward steps toward her bed. She gasped and grunted as she walked, and when she landed with a bounce on her soft bed, she tried desperately to catch her breath.

It was still there. That soft, aching feeling between her hind legs, pulsing with her heart. She had never touched herself down there before. Never even thought about it. Lying on her back, all she had to do was reach a hoof down.

She shouldn’t. She should ask Rarity or her mom what was going on, where all these strange feelings where coming from. She shouldn’t.

One forehoof rested on her chest, right on stop of her heart. She could feel it pounding. Somehow even that felt good, sending shivers through her entire body. She brushed her hoof up and down her chest, directionless. Even the slightest movement sent unfamiliar jolts through her body.

Twilight’s spell certainly was working, Sweetie Belle had no doubt about that. It was working in amazing ways she’d never figured it would, making her feel everything, feel things she didn’t even know she could. If she had known wearing the costume was going to feel like this, she never would have whined at Twilight for her selection in enchantments.

“Ooooh gosh.” It was vaguely like the static she felt when she rubbed her hooves against a thick carpet, but it was all over and somehow inside of her, inside of her mind. She closed her eyes and let her head rest on the bed as her hoof continued in lazy circles over her body. It felt so good all over, but in particular down there, down where she wasn’t supposed to let anyone touch. She began slowly rocking her body up and down on her bed. Her butt kept the costume in place, so when she slid back down the velvet fabric was stretched taut over her, digging into her coat and spreading her–

She let out a moan without meaning to. Some guttural part of her voiced its approval. It was loud – too loud. She immediately looked up to make sure her door was still shut. It felt too good to stop. She bit her lip and collapsed back down on her bed, actively trying to stifle any further sounds.

Is this how The Sentry had discovered her powers? Sweetie Belle now regretted not taking an interest in Twilight’s childhood hero. Maybe the pages of that comic were filled with the intrepid young hero spending time in her room, wondering why every part of her felt electrified, what this strange sensation building up inside her was, why she felt so gooood…

Her hoof explored her body, lower and lower. It rolled over the slight pudge of her belly, caressing it in passing. Her whole body rose as she took in each gasping mouthful of air, trying, failing, to catch her breath. Each inch seemed to heighten the sensations more and more. The closer she got to the place no pony was supposed to touch, the better everything felt.

Mustering strength she didn’t know she had, she managed to pull her hoof away from stomach, stopping for the first time in – who knows? She’d lost track of time as she explored her own body.

Was she still a failure? Was she a failure because she couldn’t even manage a few steps in her own room without her legs threatening to give out? Is this what a superhero did? Lay in her bed and run her hoof up and down her own body? Sweetie didn’t think so...right? Did that mean she had already failed at being a hero? Celestia, it was so hard to care or even think about stuff like that. This strange quivering that still tremored through her body even a minute after she stopped touching herself felt so good that it was hard to concentrate on anything else. Even as her chest rose and fell, brushing against the skin-tight silk, it sent echoes of that sensation through her body.

Her breathing neared something resembling a regular pattern, so she decided to start again. Licking her lips, she took in a sharp breath and swallowed. Cautiously, as if trying to prepare for the assault of sensations, her hoof made gentle contact her stomach.

A muted whimper escaped her clenched mouth. It felt just as good as before, better, maybe, because of the minute she’d abstained and grown to miss the feeling. It was all she could to keep her body still – every part of her wanted to be moving, every inch possible rubbing against something, brushing against the fabric.

Her hoof went lower than before and found–

She screamed. She couldn’t help herself. Her hoof brushed against a little hard nub that was poking out right below her stomach, and that simple brush made her entire body shake and all control fly out the window. She screamed a mindless moan for a second, at least, before she caught herself.

Her entire body writhed. It was like she was on fire, every inch of her burning up. She was burning in delight. Her eyes welled with tears. It was too much. Sweetie couldn’t handle it. If this was what being a superhero was, Sweetie wasn’t sure she could handle how amazing it felt.

“Sweetie?” A voice, seemingly a dimension away, drifted into her room from downstairs. “Are you okay up there, Sweetie?”

She froze. Her body stiffened. If her Mom found her like this she’d probably get the costume taken from her. Rarity didn’t know about the enchantment, no one but Twilight did.

She closed her eyes, a single tear running down her face and celestia even that felt good that single drop of hot liquid running down her face edging along her ear and falling on to the bed. The trail it left in its wake was blistering and vivid. She took in several gasps, as softly as she could, and clenched her teeth. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for being a superhero if she couldn’t even give her Mom an answer.

She steeled herself, running three words over in her mind again and again. She’d just have to say three words without the sentence becoming a moan. Three little words. Sweetie Belle couldn’t do something like this, but Sweetie-Do-Well might be able to.

“Sweetie?” the voice said again. A hoof clopping on the stairs. Another. Now or never.

“I’m fine, Mom!” Sweetie shouted back, her voice cracking into a million pieces at the last word despite her preparation. Her mother didn’t make a sound. The entire world froze. Everything hung in the balance. Her secret identity. Her future as a valiant crime-fighter.

Then, a sound of hoof on wood, another, slowly becoming quieter. Silence.

Sweetie let out a hot lungful of air. She had to be more quiet in the future, no matter what. She looked across from her bed and saw her dresser. An idea entered her mind to shove a sock or something into her mouth to muffle her noise, but that’s something a weakling like Sweetie-Belle would do. A hero like Sweetie-Do-Well would be able to keep quiet as she touched her own body.

There was no waiting this time. Immediately, her hoof dove down to that pair of nubs and brushed them. She remembered asking Rarity what they were, once. Only a few tatters of the textbook explanation her sister had given her remained in her memory – something about foals, maybe? Sweetie had never given them a second thought until now. Now that rubbing them made her entire body quiver. She’d managed a second of this sensation before she sighed and collapsed down again, letting the foreign, thrilling throbbing course through her for a while. She could feel the smile on her face.

She leaned up and did it again. Each time, her tolerance built up to the point where she was able to rub herself for a few seconds before she felt an unstoppable moan begin to well up inside of her.

Sweetie Belle had rubbed every inch of herself while she was in the bath. She’d been touched and tickled and tackled all over roughhousing with her friends. In a shadowed corner of the playground one day, with Scootaloo looking on, grinning, she’d even brushed lips with a colt from school. But none of that even came close to what she was feeling her in her room tonight. It was like she was feeling for the first time. She’d been numb before – this is what it was like to feel.

This was a night of firsts. She was eager to find what else her body was capable of making her feel tonight. She inched lower and felt the lips that had been parted by her costume. A second of light touching, then she pulled away, gasping for breath. Her hoof came away wet, and she brought it up to her face. It wasn’t like she wet herself – no, it was like she was clammy, like she’d been sweating too much. The wetness was sticky and smelled musky and strange. The smell reminded her of the time last summer that they’d heard Applejack screaming in the barn and went to investigate, only to find her and Big Macintosh smiling and slowly making their way out of the building as they neared the doors. Past the smell of hay, the entire barn smelled the way her hoof did now.

“Oh, gosh,” Sweetie said to her hoof. A bizarre flood of sensations and desires attacked her. Her hips bucked forward almost on their own, as if desperately seeking her hoof again. As if pleading to just touch it down there a little bit more, please. Sweetie was in no state to resist.

Her hoof connected with the thin fabric again. It’s almost like the suit wasn’t even there sometimes – the feeling of her hooves rubbing against the place she could never let any pony touch and never thought about touching herself until now was too real, too good.

“Fffhnngg…” She had to make noise, but couldn’t vocalize what she needed to say. Grunting and moaning felt appropriate. Thoughts and memories flooded her – Rarity never explained anything about this. Did Rarity know that touching yourself felt this good if you had the right material? She’d have to ask her sister later what fabric she–

“Ughhh…” Sweetie leaned forward, her light touches becoming more and more aggressive, gone from distracted teasing to more forceful motions, pushing her hoof up and down. She was exhausted but exhilarated - she felt like she would have passed out if it didn’t mean this impossibly pleasurable sensation would ebb and fade.

She was grunting more and more, each time her hoof rubbed against the taut suit. She closed her mouth but that only made them a little quieter, it didn’t stop – she couldn’t stop. Stretching down, she noticed that there was a dark patch of wetness where she’d been feverishly rubbing. Her whole body was moving in time with her hooves, grinding into them, thrusting forward as best she could she couldn’t stop she couldn’t stop something was building up inside of her welling up she was going to explode it just kept welling inside of her this sensation and everything about it told her to continue she needed to keep going she’d go crazy she’d never felt like this

“Sweetie?”

Sweetie Belle groaned as she slowed down, much to the protest of her desperate, wanting body. Mom was close. Right outside the door. She looked at the growing puddle of wetness spreading across her suit, the sticky-sweet smell of it clear to the superfilly’s new powers. Just as the door creaked open, she hopped from her bed onto the floor, her wet buttocks facing away from the mare peeking into the room. The sensation of her hooves hitting the floor, sending vibrations all through her body, was enough to make her legs wobble and risk giving out.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Her mom’s smile slowly faded.

Sweetie Belle was panting. So out of breath that she couldn’t do anything but, so frustrated at being interrupted that she wanted to scream. She shifted back and forth on her hind legs, putting weight on the left, then on the right. Just enough to keep the fabric shifting and rubbing against her, keeping her panting, filled to the brim on the edge of tipping over.

“F-fine.”

Sweetie’s Mom blinked at the flustered, disheveled filly. “You’ve been acting strange all night, honey. Did you catch a heat cold?” Her mom stepped into the room, inching the door open.

Sweetie shook her head, taking an instinctive step backwards She couldn’t open her mouth now, just taking a step, rubbing her hoof against the carpet, just that was enough to almost push her over whatever edge of sanity she was clinging to. If she tried to speak she knew that all that would come out would be a very impolite series of sounds.

The smell was stronger than ever. Sweetie knew, distantly, that her senses were enhanced, but the smell of her sweat and that other, less distinct musky smell hung thick in the air. If her mom smelled that, who knows what she’d think.

“That’s a cute costume,” Mom said, smiling again. “Playing dress-up? Did Rarity make that for you?”

Sweetie nodded slowly. The silk rubbing against her neck sent sparks through her body. Something wet slowly trickled down her thigh, hot and wet and soaking into the thin fabric. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

“That was generous of her. She did a really nice job. I can’t wait to see what mine looks like tomorrow.”

oh celestia please just she couldn’t hold it in any longer her hooves shook and she had to consciously fight the urge to start rubbing herself again so good

“Speaking of, it’s a little bit past your bedtime. You’ll have plenty of time to play dress-up with your friends tomorrow.”

On any other day she’d have a complaint ready but today she had something much more important to worry about.

“O-okay, Mom.”

“I’ll be back up a few minutes to tuck you in, okay? Go wash up after your room is clean.”

Her mom smiled at her and backed out of the threshold, inching the door shut again.

“Oh gosh,” Sweetie said, mumbling the phrase over and over again as she paced around her room, trying to keep her mind off of it. She’d managed to be distracted enough that the strange sensations were just diminishing echoes now. Most of her wanted to collapse into a heap on the floor right there and put her hoof right between her hind legs again where it clearly belonged, but some part of her was telling her no.

No, it wouldn’t do to make a mess of her costume. She’d already soaked the rump of it by doing...whatever it was she had been doing. She could ask the girls tomorrow after they were done crusading, maybe. But for now, she couldn’t make any further mess of the costume. It would be bad for the fearsome Sweetie-Do-Well to confront evil-doers while smelling like she’d spent all afternoon in her stuffy room running her hoof all over her private parts.

She took a deep breath, and her hooves fumbled at the zipper. She’d barely been able to magic the zipper shut in the first place – she didn’t even want to think about how much effort it’d be to try while her mind was still trying to deal with the reverberating sensations that shivered through her whenever she began something as simple as moving the zipper down.

It was only when she pulled her forelegs out of their sleeves that she realized just how much she’d been sweating. The costume clung to her and slowly peeled from her matted coat and gosh that made her moan but no she couldn’t focus on that had to get out of this costume. She wiggled it down her waist, past her stomach. Each inch of her that was revealed to the open air felt like she was slow being submerged in warm, viscous liquid. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the feeling that surged through her and focus only on getting the suit off. A superhero knows when the it’s time to go back to being a regular pony. Her teeth her clenched, and her breathing was slow and deliberate.

The fabric slid around her rump, her tail pulling through and eventually freed from the costume. This was the most challenging part. She let out a throaty ‘oh’ as the costume brushed against her wet folds for the final time that evening. All that was left was shaking her hind legs free of the final limbs of the costume.

Her fur was even more matted and sticky around her legs. It was amazing how well she could feel it, even with the suit off – maybe this was her talent, after all? She could feel the drying liquid on her leg, the warmth breath in front of her face as she panted loud and heavy, the hot blood that rushed to her face in her excitement, every bead of sweat that coated her tangled fur. She could still feel it all. It was dizzying.

The costume lay in a crumpled, wet heap a step away from her. She considering throwing it in the laundry, but some part of that felt so...unheroic. She didn’t want to be separated from her disguise and the source of her powers for even a moment.

As if to test herself, she scrunched her face and concentrated on a corner of the costume. A light glow enveloped a tiny part of it, and the costume slowly rose, and moved towards the open closet door. Sweetie Belle grunted. Almost there…

The costume fell ungracefully on the pile of toys in her closet. She grinned, and rushed over to slam the door shut. Even still, each footstep felt so...real. It was impossible to describe. It’s like Sweetie had just gotten out of a hot shower, except instead of water it was her own sweat and instead of a clean, satisfied warmth she felt dirty but somehow more content, much, much better.

She should at least clean her room before she washed up. She looked around the room, and settled on the open window. With a measured pace, Sweetie slowly made her way across her room. Each time her hoof brushed against the carpet, she felt it. Still, even with the suit gone. This ghosty haze of extreme sensation washed over her. She reached the window.

It was hot out. The middle of summer, so it was no surprise, but it was warm even for a summer night. Sweetie Belle smiled up at the stary sky, briefly imagining how good a spotlight with a symbol of SWEETIE-DO-WELL would look shimmering up there.

A strong gust of wind blew through the window and around the room, hitting Sweetie Belle directly. It wasn’t strong enough to do anything to a normal pony, but Sweetie Belle recoiled and took a step back. The wind rushed over her, she could feel it weaving in and out each individual strand of her mane and her coat. It was humid and hot, contrasting with the cooling sweat on her body in a way that made little bursts of sensation pop all over her body, making her squeal out loud.

Her front legs quivered, and finally gave out. She fell face down into the carpet and tried to bring herself to her feet but she had never realized how amazing the carpet felt. It was okay to just lay there for a little bit, brushing her face against the fibers. A wide, absent-minded grin slowly spread across her face. Maybe she could just...lay here. She let out a soft coo as her body slowly rocked.

Her forehoof, almost on its own, snaked underneath her and ran across her heaving chest and down her stomach. It was an awkward stretch but Sweetie certainly wasn’t willing to lift herself up from the ground.

Sweetie didn’t want to waste any time now. Her mom would be back in a few minutes. She didn’t have time to experiment. Sweetie knew what felt good. She didn’t know how or why but she knew that this is what she needed.

She was already wet, again. Without the suit in the way there was something dull about the experience but captured enough of what had made the hour the most vivid hour of her life that she saw no reason to stop now. The interruption with her mom was nothing more than a delay and her body soon was back in the motions she’d discovered tonight.

It didn’t take any more teasing to bring her back to the edge. She moaned into the carpet. She didn’t even have work too hard – just her hoof being there was making her burn up inside. Her body moved back and forth, digging into the carpet.

Faster and fast, her rump grinding against her hoof, her face against the ground. Everything felt so close to her, so real. She was making noises now, but she didn’t even know what to call them, just noises. There was that sensation building in her again as if it had never left. A strange feeling, like there was a part of her deep inside desperate to escape. By now a thin stream of tears was rolling down from her clenched eyes. She resettled her hindlegs firmly on the ground, her rump still pistoning back and forth as if there was some force behind her rhythmically slamming her forward.

She couldn’t keep her mouth closed so the little high-pitched squeaks she’d be crying each time her hoof made contact with her rump became louder. She looked up at the open window, distantly worried but not enough to actually do something about it.

Something was happening. Her legs were twitching uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. Her voice was falling up and down as she thrust against herself. She heard it before she felt it – another breeze rolled into the room and washed over her.

She gasped, taking in a chestful of air, and let it out in a guttural moan. The warm air felt so much more than amazing it was like submerging in a steaming bathtub after a day of playing in the snow but instead of water it was dozens of soft hooves caressing every inch of your body the air rolled over her flowing through and cutting straight to her core and–

Sweetie’s eyes shot open. A hot spurt of something, from deep inside, rushed past her hoof. Her ears picked up the faint sound of liquid softly falling against the carpet over the loud, groaning cries that escaped her muzzle. Her mind was blank except for this feeling - it was the only thing that mattered in the world and she’d keep it going as long as she could. Her breathing became a rapid-fire series of grunts as she panted, her entire body electrified. She was wetter than she was before, squirting all over her hoof and down her leg. The warm liquid drooled down her forehoof which was still gently massaging, almost residually.

Her legs finally gave out and she slumped to the floor, her hoof finally escaping the crook between her hindlegs where Sweetie had recently discovered true feeling lay. She rolled over on her back. Her mom could walk into the room right now and she’d stay like this. Out of breath no matter how much she gasped. Every part of her sore and aching, like she’d just run a mile. She stared up the ceiling, her mind only trying to wrap itself around what she had just experienced. A steady stream of warm liquid dripped down to the base of her tail and pooled there.

A few breaths passed through her open mouth. Sweetie Belle felt her eyelids closing, her suppressed exhaustion finally catching up with her. Maybe she should just fall asleep here, on her soft, comfortable carpet…

Another gust of warm summer air blew in, brushing against her soaked body. Sweetie jumped. How long had she been lying there? She needed to get cleaned up. She needed to clean herself off and get into bed and do something about that little wet patch in the carpet. Running over to her door, she pushed it open just enough to take a peek into the hall. The coast was clear. If only she was wearing her costume - she’d be able to hear where her mom was, no matter how far away. Although, there wasn’t much point in being sneaky if she could barely walk without succumbing to...whatever that was.

Sweetie dashed as quietly as she could, slipping past the bathroom door and gently securing it. Her eyes fell on the hamper, stuffed to the brim with clothes ready for tomorrow morning’s wash. Sweetie frowned, then dashed back to her room, grabbing the costume in her teeth. Just touching her lips to the wet fabric sent a shiver down her spine. It still smelled so strong, just a little sweet. She had to concentrate. Dashing back to the bathroom, she buried the costume under a small pile of her dad’s flowery shirts.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sweetie looked at herself in the mirror as she grabbed a bunch of paper towels in her teeth. Her mane and tail were a mess, to say nothing of the matted fur on her hooves and hindlegs. As she dabbed herself dry, she imagined herself having just come home from a night out, fighting bad guys and saving Ponyville from certain disaster. Safe in the bathroom, her mom none the wiser. Even her friends didn’t know for now, but soon, The Cutie Mark Crusaders would be an unstoppable team of superheroes.

And, perhaps most importantly, Sweetie Belle would get to feel that nice again. Her face flushed thinking about how wonderful it was - she would have to do it again. Purely for understanding her own abilities, of course.

“You ready for bed, Sweetie?” Her mom called through the door. Dropping the last of the soaked towels in the garbage, Sweetie took a deep breath and pulled open the bathroom door.

“Yes, mom!” Sweetie replied, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. With just a hint of a smile on her face, she trotted past her mother, across the hall and into her room. Taking care to avoid even looking at the little wet spot in the center of her room, she hopped under her covers, smiling sweetly as her mom magically tucked the sheets in.

“G’night, Sweetie.” Her mom gave her a kiss to the forehead, but Sweetie Belle barely noticed. Her eyes had drifted to her open window, looking out at Luna’s bright moon. Sweetie Belle was going to sleep. But crime never rests. And now, neither would Sweetie-Do-Well.

“Good night, mom.” Sweetie grinned.

With a glow of her mother’s horn and a click, Sweetie’s lamp went out.

The bright morning sun fought as hard as it could to get past Twilight’s kitchen curtains. Rarity sipped at the coffee she was kindly offered, though its bitterness did little to ease her mood.

“She pulled it off the clothesline and was out the door before she could say much more.” Rarity tried to keep her tone even. “But, enchanting her costume? Giving her some kind of magic she’s barely capable of handling? Twilight, not to sound insensitive, but this is my sister. You know how...irresponsible she can be.”

Twilight chuckled, which caught Rarity off guard. She wasn’t used to Twilight being so lax about...well, anything, really. Twilight acting so nonchalant about being responsible with magic? That was frightening.

“Don’t worry, Rarity. I didn’t actually give her superpowers. That charm I cast just makes her perceive her regular senses as though they’ve been heightened.” Twilight took another sip of her coffee. “Trust me, the last thing I’d want is a super-powered Sweetie Belle running around town.”

“I don’t think a Sweetie Belle who thinks she has super powers is much better.” Rarity muttered.

“I’ll remove the enchantment tomorrow. It’ll be a good learning experience for her.” Twilight smiled, laying a hoof over Rarity’s. The white unicorn nodded, letting a faint, understanding smile show. “I know you’re worried about her, but just trust me on this.”

Twilight watched the shadow of a bird flitting in front of her curtained window. “I think she’ll be just fine.”

The Shocking Dress-Shop Perils of Sweetie-Do-Well!

One thing was getting more certain by the second - this was not the way home.

The road, the houses, the street lights flickering to life, all of them were familiar. Sweetie Belle was certain she should know where she was. If only she could ignore the damp costume clinging to her coat and skin, she’d probably be able to concentrate.

There was something on her face. A bead of sweat rolled down, past her eye and over her cheek. She stopped, and stood still. Her vision blurred, the world beyond becoming a mess of sunset orange and shimmering lights. Blinking away the tears, she tried to take another step. Her whole clammy costume shifted with her, sending sparks across the soaked, sweaty body trapped in it.

Just needed to concentrate.

Ignore the costume.

The sizzling bead of sweat reminded her of Scootaloo’s tongue on her chin, running up to meet her lips.

Easier said than done.

She knew she should be worried. The whole town in front of her was a collage of indistinct noises and dull colors. Something was horribly, awfully wrong with her. Her friends had just done things to her – and each other – that they had blushed to even mention to each other before. She didn’t know what she’d say to them tomorrow. She didn’t know what to think now. There something very, very wrong with today.

And as soon as this costume stops touching every single inch of her, she would be able to figure out what.

Right now, all she needed to do is get back home. The street was spinning beneath her, and the air felt thick, like water running over her as she moved. It was so hard to not just give into it, to let the wind brush her into an alley where she could lay down and just–

Home.

Concentrate.

Each time she closed her eyes, she was assaulted with images and memories of Applebloom and Scootaloo standing over her, kissing each other, kissing her – her whole body ached, particularly around her hindlegs – what it felt like to put her hoof there, in the spot it was aching, how amazing it felt…

Sweetie Belle’s journey home was guided by some consciousness other than hers, because the whole of her thoughts were lit with something else. She knew, somewhere inside her, that what was happening to her was wrong, but why was half of her begging to go back to the clubhouse and plant her lips on Applebloom’s, and convince Scootaloo to touch her all over…

Sweetie Belle noticed something that made her pause.

She blinked at the shadowy, familiar shape.

Wait.

Is that home?

She just needed to get home and everything would be fine. Was this home? Her brain didn’t seem to want to work. Home was just a word to her not connected to any particulars.

She sat down in the street and stared.

Think, Sweetie Belle, c’mon.

Home. You need to get home. Don’t think about Scootaloo’s tongue or her legs locked with yours, just think about home. You can’t spend the night at the clubhouse with them. Home. Home. Home.

She remembered something. Knocking on the door she was staring at, slamming it open and rushing inside. She had scoured the house until she found the unicorn inside slouched over some cloth and needle. The pony was busy, but she had begged her to please, please make her a costume because she had finally figured it out, she was meant to be a super hero and she needed a costume just like this one if you really love me you’ll make it.

Smiling, finally. Something made sense. Something other grinding her body against another pony’s had managed to make a spark in her brain.

Rarity’s.

This was Rarity’s house.

She was up and moving before she even realized it. She was breathing hard, her newly quickened pace making the tugs of her costume more frantic and agonizing than ever.

Stopping just before the wooden door, Sweetie took a moment to catch her breath. The pounding need between her legs ebbed slowly as she did her best to stifle her panting grunts. Sweetie knocked slowly, wincing slightly as the noise of her hoof against the door crashed through her head.

It was a minute or two before Sweetie heard the sound of hoofsteps stomping towards the door. Rarity’s voice was faint, her mutterings sounding like a song to Sweetie Belle.

“Hello, can I help-” Rarity’s sweet smile fell along with her gaze. Sweetie didn’t want to think of how she must have looked to her sister. “Sweetie Belle! What on earth-!”

The little unicorn simply pushed past Rarity. The air inside the boutique was somehow even hotter and stuffier than outside - fabric had been draped haphazardly across many of the mannequins, and errant scraps of paper littered the floor. Sweetie kept walking, towards the stairs. Towards the guest room. Towards some rest.

“Sweetie Belle, what’s-” Rarity shut the door quickly, rushing to catch up. “Are you all right?”

Sweetie wanted to say something. What could she say, though? That she’d kissed her friends and rubbed herself all over them because they felt really good? That feeling her friends on her tongue and body made her all wet and sticky and she didn’t understand why she just kept wanting more and more?

“We could get in trouble.” Scootaloo’s words echoed in her bleary head. Her face flushed.

“I gotta go to bed.” Sweetie Belle couldn’t think of anything else to say, and the sentence wheezed out of her dry mouth. She tried to march forward, but the sore ache and dull pleasure that coursed through her body with each heartbeat made her gait a clumsy stagger.

Rarity kept pace with her. “Sweetie Belle, hold still. Sweetie, you’re absolutely–stop, Sweetie Belle!” The unicorn’s horn shimmered in a light blue aura, and a soft pressure enveloped Sweetie Belle, easily ending her stumbling trot towards the stairs.

A quiet groan escaped Sweetie Belle’s lips. The magic covering her, pushing her softly in every direction – it felt entirely too much like the hooves of a dozen stallions caressing every inch of her body. A part of her was still telling her to get to bed, but despite that she smiled and closed her eyes. Her limbs went limp as she felt herself being lifted into the air on an invisible cloud of sensation.

Rarity slowly spun the listless filly in a circle, examining her as if she was some strange object. “Sweetie Belle, you’re absolutely filthy. Is that...is that my costume?” Even in the state Sweetie Belle was in, she could hear the anger in her sister’s voice. Like so many time so far this day, the bliss and thrill she felt over all these new sensations was answered by a deep swelling of shame inside her.

“I’m...s-s…” The apologize was interrupted with a gasp as Rarity set her back on the floor.

“It’s a mess! What were you doing today, missy? Look at you, covered in twigs and dirt and...Cutie Mark Crusader garbage collectors, hm?” Sweetie Belle felt like she should cry, felt the urge to – but she was so empty. She spilled so much of herself all over her costume as hour after hour had passed in the clubhouse…

“Though, it smells like…” Rarity wrinkled her nose at a smell that was familiar but unplaceable. “...does mother know you’re here? I suppose not. You know what kind of trouble you’d be in if you had shown up with your new costume in such a state. So you figured you’d just wander over to your big sister’s and she’d clean you up?”

Sweetie Belle rocked back and forth on the ground. Too exhausted to think, too exhausted to stand. Her body ached for a soft bed to lay in, but nothing she did gave her the strength to stand.

“Are you listening to me, Sweetie?” Rarity stomped a hoof on the ground.

The only noise Sweetie could focus on was her own rhythmic breathing. Gently, in and out.

“Sweetie?” Rarity leaned in closer. Her hot breath, smelling of peppermint, washed over Sweetie Belle’s face when her older sister spoke her name. Sweetie’s efforts to stifle the gentle coo in response were fruitless.

Rarity sighed. “Stay here, Sweetie Belle, and take that suit off. You’re obviously exhausted. I’ll run you a bath, and you can stay here for the night.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes slowly opened when the warm air of her sister’s speech stopped flowing over her smile. Halfway across the room, Rarity had stopped her trot. She turned back to Sweetie.

“And if you think you’re getting off the hook, it won’t be that easy. Tomorrow you can tell me all about how you ruined your new suit.”

Rarity’s hoofsteps faded, echoing through the hallway. Sweetie Belle could barely muster the energy to lift her chin off of the floor - tensing her legs and pushing herself up onto her hooves felt nothing short of impossible. The sound of hot water rushing into a tub sounded so distant. Sweetie’s little legs tensed and relaxed repeatedly, the muted determination in the back of her mind still refusing to leave her entirely.

Before she knew it, the faraway faucet had stopped hissing, and Rarity’s silhouette was trotting back towards her.

“Bath’s ready, Sweetie Belle-” Rarity called, sighing as she approached her sprawled out sister once more. “I swear, for such a tenacious little filly you can be so lazy sometimes…”

Sweetie’s half-lidded eyes stared straight ahead at the perfectly manicured hooves standing in front of her. She opened her mouth, attempting some form of protest, but her words were lost as the costume around her neck tightened, pulling her upwards. Her hooves shook as she attempted to remain sitting up.

“Sweetie, darling, come now. We need to get that costume off.” Rarity leaned forward, grabbing the little zipper under Sweetie’s neck in her teeth. Rarity wasn’t prepared for just how strong she smelled. Pulling the zipper a few notches down, the musky scent trapped underneath wafted freely into Rarity’s nose. This wasn’t how little fillies smelled after a long day of roughhousing. This was how young mares smelled. Young, excited, in-season mares. Rarity’s heart caught in her throat. What had Sweetie Belle been up to? That mess around her tail and her legs couldn’t be…oh dear.

In a rush to get back to the task at hand, Rarity’s muzzle bumped into Sweetie’s costumed chest. Sweetie’s head jerked back, the sudden warmth against her crackling through her like lightning. Rarity tensed, attempting to grab ahold of the zipper once more, but-

But all Rarity could manage to do was shift her muzzle against the warm, sweaty fabric. The zipper was right next to her teeth, but something was distracting her. Something about the heat pulsing from her little sister, how her chest softly rose and fell against her face…

“Sweetie Belle, this...you really need to take better care of yourself.” Rarity looked up at her sister’s face, her chin still resting against Sweetie. The little unicorn looked down at her sister, trying to move her lips, trying to tell her to stop. Sweetie Belle was already making those noises with each gentle breath she felt billowing from Rarity’s nostrils. Every inch of her body was already clamoring for more, wanting to feel the bigger unicorn against her neck and stomach and especially that place below.

But a little, valiant voice within held Sweetie back with everything she had. This was her sister. What she’d done with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom was one thing but - not her sister. Not Rarity.

“Your costume, we need to...yes, right, the bath, we need to get you out of this…” Rarity’s words began to sound drowsy. Rarity pulled her head down, attempting to grab the zipper again, only to find her nose pressed against the small patch of Sweetie Belle’s exposed, musky chest.

I can’t, Sweetie Belle thought to herself, the sensation of Rarity taking deep breaths in through her nose rushing through her small, fuzzy chest. She’s my sister. I can’t. She’s my sister.

“Sometimes I...I have to wonder what it is you girls get up to.” Sweetie Belle felt the vibrations of Rarity’s voice against her beating heart. She wasn’t sure what to do any more. She knew this was wrong and weird, but Rarity couldn’t seem to take her soft nose away from her chest, and it felt so nice just nuzzling back and forth…

“I mean, you have this costume for little more than a day, and it’s filthy. It’s...oh.” Rarity’s hoof was brushing against her stomach now. Sweetie Belle cooed under Rarity’s attention. Everything was spiraling towards something she knew she shouldn’t want, couldn’t want. Her room was a minute away and if she could just pull herself away from Rarity’s hoof.

Rarity was still moving her hoof in gentle, swirling motions over Sweetie Belle’s chest, still mumbling tepid chastisements and half-thoughts.

“M-my, though...it feels so nice.” Rarity murmured, leaning down again and nuzzling against Sweetie Belle’s chest. The older unicorn sighed, the hot air running all over Sweetie Belle making her squirm. How would Rarity’s hot breath feel down– no, no, no. This is wrong. Sister. Bedroom. Sweetie Belle tried everything to compel her limbs to move, but they only twitched.

“You know, I have...half a mind…to punish you right here, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, interrupting her nuzzling as she gave Sweetie Belle a quick kiss on the chest. The suit sent tingles across her lips and she shuddered. There was something here that wasn’t quite right, Rarity thought. And then she realized – the thing that was wrong here was that Sweetie Belle was a naughty little sister who ruined her suit in one day.

“Such a dirty...filthy filly...wrecking such a wonderful, delightful suit…” The words washed over Sweetie Belle without understanding. The filly realized with a mute horror that while she was concentrating on rising from the floor her body was grinding against her sister’s touch. She felt herself getting warm and wet in the place where nopony was supposed to touch. Angry tears formed in her eyes as her mouth opened and was only able to moan. No, no, no, no why does this feel so good it’s my sister this isn’t supposed to feel this good. She collapsed onto her back, unable to find the strength to keep standing. She wished she had never worn the costume. She wished she hadn’t touched herself for so long. She wished Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were still here. She wished Rarity would be a little rougher with her hooves. She wished Rarity would kiss her all over.

Rarity, if she even noticed her sister falling over, wasn’t distracted by it. Simply taking a step forward so she could keep her hooves in contact with that wonderful suit, she smiled down at her sister. “Still, it is quite the m-marvelous suit, don’t you agree, Sweetie?” Both hooves on her now, one running across her chest the other up and down her flank. “What material did I use on this, I wonder? It seems to be...escaping me, at the moment.” Her nose against Sweetie Belle’s heaving chest, taking a deep breath of that musky, rich aroma.

The muscles in Sweetie Belle only seemed to come alive when they were moving, desperately thrusting towards Rarity’s delicate touch. This wasn’t like Sweetie Belle’s or Scootaloo’s fumbling, awkward grasping. Her sister knew every place to touch to make her whole body quiver, every caress that turned her limbs to jello and the words and protests in her mind turn into mush and moaning. She still need to get upstairs, yes, up to the safety of her room, she remembered that much. Up to her room and everything would be okay. But was there any reason she couldn’t bring Rarity up with her? She’d be safe in her room with her sister and those amazing hooves all over her body and…

“Rarity…” she squeaked, managing to hold back an inarticulate grunt for long enough to enunciate her sister’s name.

“Hmm?” Rarity didn’t seem concerned by it, and still stared down at Sweetie’s filthy suit and the wet spot between her legs. Instead of the admonishing glare she had earlier, she was smiling softly, and her eyes were clouded in the same strange, distracted haze she noticed on Scootaloo as they had…done what they did back in the clubhouse.

Sweetie Belle tried again. It would have been so nice to just sit there and let her sister touch her for the rest of the night but she had to at least try. She bottled up all the willpower she had, steeled herself, and let her sister’s name out of her dry mouth once again.

“Rarity!”

Rarity blinked, and rose from her sister. “Yes, Sweetie Belle? Is everything alright?” She looked down at her younger sister. The filly looked distraught in ways that Rarity hadn’t noticed before. Her eyes were rolled back and unfocused, and her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted. It was like she was overcome with exhaustion, save for the moaning and mewing that she emitted with every other breath…

“Sweetie?” Rarity said. Panic began to set in. The fog in her mind was lifting slowly and she walked forward. Towering over her prone sister, she stared down at her. It looked like Sweetie had been crying, and her face was wet and covered in matted patches of fur.

“Sweetie Belle? Are you alright?”

Sweetie Belle didn’t respond.

“Oh my goodness.” Rarity said, bringing a hoof to her mouth. She thought it over for a brief second. “No,” she told herself. “Twilight wouldn’t be so...it’s the suit isn’t it? The suit is making you act this way. Oh my...what happened to you today, Sweetie? And...just now...the magic must affect…”

Rarity leaned forward again closer to Sweetie Belle’s face. Whatever it was, it was bad. She needed to get Twilight so they could figure out how to fix it. She shifted slightly, and her backhoof accidentally brushing the hot, soaked folds of the suit between Sweetie Belle’s hindlegs.

Too much. Everything in Sweetie Belle that was crying for more became far too loud. Shame and fear became quiet compared to the call for more.

The filly cried out a panicked moan and lurched forward, locking her lips with her sister’s and shoving her tongue into her surprised mouth.

Rarity gasped. Tendrils of pleasure shot through her and she tried to pull away. Everything was wrong but so dizzy. The world was spinning and the only thing that made sense anymore was Sweetie Belle’s lips on hers. This is your little sister!

Shivering gasps spilled from Sweetie’s mouth as Rarity’s lips left hers. The way her sister felt against her, the strong, heady scent that rushed from her little body into Rarity’s nose - Rarity hadn’t felt this thrilled in a long time. Even considering her many memorable rendezvous with suave stallions and blushing mares alike, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt so hot. The little wet hairs on Sweetie Belle’s neck tickled her lips and were slightly salty against her tongue. Rarity grinned.

“I never would have guessed...” Rarity mumbled into Sweetie Belle’s chest, her eyes shut and words blending together as her tip of her tongue poked against the sweaty fabric. The little filly’s hindleg kicked softly in the air, her thighs rubbing in circles against her sister’s shoulders. “You, and Scootaloo, and little Apple Bloom I mean you girls don’t even have your cutie marks for goodness’ sakes…”

Rarity was getting closer. Though Sweetie Belle was adrift in the hazy, sweet-scented embrace of her sister, her muzzle was moving away. Down past her chest, kissing her wet stomach, so close to that part that longed for touch most of all. Her little legs twitched and twitched again. All she needed was for Rarity to move little lower. To push those warm lips right between her legs where Scootaloo had touched her, where she had touched herself.

“Please.” Sweetie Belle barely whispered. The syllables were broken and stifled, but it was all that she could force out between her soft, delighted moans. Rarity didn’t stop. Rarity seemed too lost in nuzzling the damp costume to notice. Her little nipples were stiff again, and when Rarity’s lips reached them, Sweetie Belle’s gasps became a long, low whine.

“In any case, I hope you’ve learned your lesson-” Rarity pursed her lips around one of Sweetie’s stiff little nubs. Hot droplets of saliva dripped and crawled across as Rarity’s lips kissed and nipped. Sweetie’s whines grew wild, her legs quivering and thighs pressing even tighter against her mumbling sister. “A lady doesn’t overdress when she’s in season.”

Sweetie groaned. She knew Rarity was talking to her, but her big sister’s words were barely more than incomprehensible sounds being drowned out by the tug of tight fabric, the wet warmth of her sister’s tongue.

“What you and your friends were doing is -mmn- perfectly natural. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Rarity inhaled deeply against Sweetie’s damp groin. “But now this costume smells like a sweaty-”

Lick.

“...naughty-”

Lick.

“...filly.”

Sweetie cried out, the corners of her gaping mouth turned up as she gasped and panted. Rarity’s tongue pressed right up against that needy spot of hers, each tiny shift dragging the fabric around the little filly’s sensitive sex. Sweetie felt that extra-sensitive part of her peek out and brush against Rarity’s lip, every time bringing such tremendous pleasure with the slightest bit of contact. She flexed it again and again, her little hips bucking upward into her sister’s muzzle. The costume was wet, and not just because of Rarity’s gentle tongue. Through the crashing of her sister’s breaths on her body, through the pulsing need inside her that made her flex and drip and make guttural sounds, Sweetie’s cheeks felt hot. She was no longer embarrassed that her sister was lapping and moaning into her - she was embarrassed because she loved it more than anything in the world.

Half-words and other incomprehensible mutterings were still spilling from Rarity’s mouth, muted by the fabric between her and her sister. Sound and sensation swirled in Sweetie Belle’s mind. She was unable to tell words apart from anything else – Rarity was still speaking, saying something under her breath and between gasps but Sweetie Belle couldn’t distinguish it from the greedy grunts and growls that seemed to shake her little body to the core. Every few mumbled words, Rarity punctuated her speech by dragging her tongue in a long slow circle around the spot in between Sweetie’s legs. Every time Rarity pulled back, Sweetie cried out and thrust forward, desperate to be touched. Rarity’s warm tongue was a necessity now - Sweetie couldn’t bear a second without her breathing hot and drooling against her.

But it was gone again. When bucking her hips yielded nothing, Sweetie mustered all of the strength she had and picked her bleary head up, looking to her sister. Rarity’s head was still nestled between her thighs, her wet muzzle smiling as she stared, open mouthed, right where her tongue had been. Muttering a few slurred words, Rarity’s horn shone, and Sweetie felt the warm, fuzzy embrace of her sister’s magic once again. It focused just above her legs, just below her belly, nestling against the wet costume just before-

Sweetie yelped. It was tight. Tighter than it had ever been. She felt that spot between her legs flex again, rubbing hard against her soaked costume. Sweetie’s whole body was shaking, the sensations she had felt with her friends seeming like mere sparks compared to the inferno that Rarity had set within her. Sweetie barely had time to catch her breath before Rarity’s magic lifted her little behind into the air.

“You look so lovely this way, Sweetie Belle.” Rarity muttered. Sweetie could do nothing but look up at her costumed body, the fabric pulled tight against her by her sister’s magic. Just between her legs, below Rarity’s grinning face, the fabric that had stretched so tightly against the contours of her body seemed to dip ever so briefly within. Sweetie shifted her hips, grinding the fabric back and forth inside her. Long, shaky vowels drifted from her throat.

But then the fabric started getting even tighter. Rarity stretched it flat between Sweetie’s legs again, pulling it further and further apart. Her head bobbed, cheeks nuzzling haphazardly against Sweetie’s thighs as her horn shone bright.

And then, with the sound of a thousand tiny snaps at once, that heavenly spot between Sweetie Belle’s legs suddenly felt a slight draft. The little unicorn could see a patch of her white fur poking out from below her belly. Just above it, her sister appeared to be blushing furiously.

“R-Rarity…?” Sweetie Belle meant to ask about the costume. Something about the hole in it. Whatever it was, the question never came.

Sweetie Belle thought she had known how delightful her sister’s tongue felt. She thought she knew how unbelievable it felt to have wet, warm huffing nostrils and lapping tongue caress her within the confines of her sweaty costume. She thought she knew what it meant to have something, anything touch that little flexing spot beneath her tail. She had been so, so wrong.

Each bump on Rarity’s tongue teased and tickled. Each droplet of saliva left behind crawled down slowly, dripping into her fur. It hadn’t felt hot before. This was heat, blazing from her sister’s wet mouth and spreading into Sweetie’s helpless body. She had been shouting. She was still shouting. She didn’t know what came out of her mouth, save the fact that it was loud, twinged with ecstasy and spit.

Warm, wet and delicately slow, Rarity’s tongue pushed forward. Sweetie’s legs twitched helplessly, splayed out above her. Dipping in, lapping out and brushing that spot, the spot that sent sparks and moans throughout her - every lick and throaty vibration felt deliberate, gently adding to that sweet, addictive need that throbbed harder and harder within her.

Rarity’s tongue was something she’d never realized she needed so much. Every time she brushed it hard in between Sweetie Belle’s legs, Sweetie Belle couldn’t resist screaming. Anything that wasn’t a cry for more and more of her sister’s heavy, wet tongue entering her was pushed beyond her understanding. She thought she had experienced the most amazing sensation of her life a few hours ago in the clubhouse, but that was nothing next to the heat of Rarity's mumbled breath and feeling of her burning tongue in that special spot that nopony was suppose to touch because it felt too amazing for anypony to handle. Every sensation she felt before was dulled and muted through the fabric, but Rarity's mouth directly on her was so hot that it burned everything else in her life away, she didn't, couldn't want anything else, it was too amazing. Her legs twitched uncontrollably, and her hips bucked against Rarity's snout, starving more for that touch each passing second.

Her friend's clumsy and fumbling hooves rubbing against her costume was a dull and distant sensation now – if she had known that something could make her body feel this, she would have torn her costume off and begged Scootaloo and Apple Bloom to touch her, lick her, anything, as long as it was down there and they didn't ever stop. Rarity's tongue was controlled and paced, a sensation that went so far beyond clumsy groping that it had taken control of her body. Her sister easily fell into the rhythm of her thrusts, timing herself so that her tongue took a long, wet, impossibly slow lick that made the world freeze for a second right as she was at the apex. It was the most natural rhythm she'd ever followed in her life, and despite the sweet ache of exhaustion she'd felt flowing through her body since she left the clubhouse, it was something she could have done for the rest of the night. She noticed, when she stopped screaming and tried in vain to catch her breath, that Rarity wasn't speaking anymore – the only sounds Sweetie Belle heard beyond her own gasping was faint murmurs and moans, her sister's sounds muffled by her muzzle's constant attachment to her body. Sweetie Belle couldn't be happier. Words didn't even make sense to her anymore anyway. Everything was much better with Rarity's scorching tongue doing nothing but lapping away at her without losing pace.

Everything changed in a moment, and suddenly Sweetie Belle's thrusts weren't reciprocated by the hefty, sopping pressure she expected. She tried again, and again, in vain, thrusting, seeking out the sensation that made her world clouded in delight, but there was nothing except faint slivers of a steaming breath on her. A wordless moan rose from deep in her throat, but turned into gentle panting when she felt Rarity’s hooves snake around her backside.

Her touch lingered on Sweetie’s rump, giving it a few squeezes and caressing it softly, but her hooves quickly moved upwards on Sweetie’s body and passed her hips. Rarity’s gentle touch was sending shocks through her, but there was still nothing she wanted more than more of Rarity’s mouth - her lower body was still straining for it, still trying to communicate the need for that amazing tongue that Sweetie Belle couldn’t possibly give words. Her sisters distant moaning as her hooves made slow circles, rubbing her unthinkingly through the fabric, making it stretch over her sweat-matted fur. When Rarity slid closer to her, Sweetie thought that Rarity was ready to dive back into her, and she felt the spot between her legs flex and expose that amazingly sensitive part of her again, almost in anticipation. But when Rarity moved back, and forward again, Sweetie finally realized through her fogged understanding that Rarity was grinding her rump back and forth on her carpet. Her sister’s eyes were closed, and she was biting down on her lip. Sweetie stared at her, pleading desperate cries for attention forming and falling amid the ocean of indecipherable grunts.

Finally, Rarity opened her eyes. The filly below her was still squirming, eyes locked on hers, a desperate, pitiful need behind them. Rarity smiled. She knew exactly what a naughty filly like Sweetie Belle needed right now.

The grip Rarity had on her sister, which up unto now was light and flowing over her like honey, tightened around her hips so hard Sweetie Belle yelped. The sudden sensation felt like a vice and sent a wave of pleasure quivering over her body. Sweetie Belle groaned and squirmed, trying to somehow get those hooves back where they belonged, back where she needed, on the place that was still flexing and aching for a touch. No matter how much she tried, though, Rarity’s grip held her firmly in place.

Her sister took a deep breath, let it out, and shoved her snout back between Sweetie Belle’s legs.

There was nothing graceful about it this time, nothing ladylike or orderly like Rarity’s prior attentions. Sweetie Belle screamed sounds she didn’t even know she could make, bestial moaning that no proper lady should ever even think about. Rarity’s tongue was on her, lapping away, shoving deep inside her in places she didn’t even know could be touched. She locked her lips on her sister’s bodies, the sounds she was making as animalistic as her sister’s. Sweetie was paralyzed, everything was too hot, it was too much. Her sister didn’t stop for even a second, even breathing and snorting while deep inside her, that hot breath blowing over Sweetie Belle. All sense of civility was gone – Rarity was now greedy, eager to taste as much of Sweetie Belle as she could. Sweetie Belle’s lower body was soaked, covered in sweat and something else, the special spot between her legs dripping with a coat of Rarity’s saliva, as her sister made no attempt to hide how amazing her sister tasted.

Sweetie felt it again – that same, incredible, world-ending feeling that she felt when her hooves ran over her own body and the same one she felt a dozen times with her friends as they kissed her and rubbed against her. It welled up inside her, consuming every part of her, making every muscle stretched and taut. It was like she was exploding from the inside in the best way possible, all of the sensations of her body dissolving in one whole. She couldn’t tell the warmth of her body from the warmth of Rarity’s tongue anymore, and her sweat mingled with Rarity’s spit. The Boutique was melting away, too, she couldn’t even remember where she was. All of Equestria, gone, meaning nothing compared to this feeling. The only thing that mattered in the world. All of existence was building towards a final, singular sensation, and if Rarity kept going she was—

Sweetie Belle grunted, and her whole body shook. She squirted that something from down there, all over Rarity’s mouth, which continued sloppily devouring her. Grunting, screaming, she did it again, and Rarity, after a few more seconds, finally pulled away, her mouth curved into a wide grin as it dripped with the hot nectar her sister has spurted all over her.

Sweetie felt a profound, rich emptiness overtake her. She would have cried if she was able. Her whole body felt like it was coming apart, out of her control, and she fell limp in her sister’s grip. She became vaguely aware of the shaky breaths staggering in and out of her lungs as little sticky droplets crawled their way down her backside. Joining with the damp, tight costume.

Her soaked behind gently touched the ground, strands of wet hair from her tail sticking to her flanks. Sweetie took another lungful of the hot air. She wanted to look up at her sister, her amazing wonderful lovely sister, but she barely had enough strength to try and catch her breath. The little filly’s gaze rested at some faraway dark point on the ceiling. She’d been smiling, her mouth open and her tongue resting just between her teeth.

A shifting of hooves, and Sweetie Belle felt warmth on her body again. Rarity’s face was inches from hers now, looking her right in the eyes. Her muzzle was so wet - little white hairs bunched together, glistening with cooling, dripping liquid. It took only a touch of their lips for Sweetie to push against her sister, sucking and licking at that strong, musky flavor in Rarity’s lips. Her sister, in turn, began grinding her body against the little filly.

“My little sister…” Rarity breathed when her lips briefly parted from Sweetie’s, her words spilling though her sister’s brain. “My cute, sweet, beautiful…”

Rarity’s lips left hers. Sweetie’s head instantly lurched forward, begging for more, but Rarity simply grinned. Rarity slid herself back over Sweetie’s body, the heat and weight sliding over her costume pushing another grunt from the little filly’s lips. A few agonizing moments of nothing passed, save for the ever so light breaths Sweetie felt on the wetness between her legs. She bucked her hips, up and down. She needed her sister back. She needed her sister now.

And then, all at once -

There was no sound, save Sweetie’s surprised, muffled squeal. Heat. Fuzzy, wet heat, pressed against her little snout. A mix of perfume and sweat and something stronger flooded Sweetie’s nostrils. It was all so dizzying, so overwhelming, so soft and hot that she couldn’t help nuzzle against it. She wasn’t even sure of what it was until she felt Rarity’s tail briefly drape over her horn and mane before swishing away.

Sweetie’s face felt very hot.

She’d seen it before, of course. Any observant pony of her age would have seen those parts under ponies’ tails, at one time or another. It wasn’t something you were supposed to talk about, but sometimes tails would swish about in excitement, or inspiration after hours of running from mannequin to sketchbook and back, and there it was. She’d seen her friends’, her teacher’s - it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. But so close to her face, so warm, so wet -

Sweetie opened her mouth. Her sister’s strong scent blended into taste, rushing over her tongue. Something distant in Sweetie’s mind protested the idea of her putting her tongue under her sister’s tail. There was barely any hesitation before her little tongue pressed against her sister’s puffy lips.

Rarity let out a hungry groan from atop Sweetie, rumbling and pushing the little filly to do it again. It felt so wonderful running across her tongue, she couldn’t bear to stop even if she’d wanted to. Sweetie’s tongue dragged across the bottom of her sister’s warm, wet lips when something pushed out and touched her. It was about the size of a little marble, pink and stiff against Sweetie’s tongue. When it touched her, Rarity cried out and shoved her hips against her little sister’s face even more. As the little pink thing slipped away, dim recognition crossed Sweetie’s face, her tongue lapping and muzzle pushing hard against the hot, dripping, flexing thing before her. Rarity was breathing so hard against Sweetie’s stomach, and Sweetie didn’t want it to stop.

Rarity’s eyes, save for when they’d close tightly as she shoved herself against her little sister, could not leave that torn spot between Sweetie Belle’s legs. The little filly was still dripping onto her sprawled out tail, thighs and legs soaked and quivering. Rarity wasn’t sure how long she’d been talking. She’d catch her mouth forming words like “love”, “cute”, “beautiful” - accolades she’d rarely used to describe her filthy, sweaty, roughhousing little sister. All it took was her clumsy little tongue, her clumsy little lips and clumsy little nose - and the praises couldn’t stop spilling from Rarity’s lips at varying tones, volumes, and more likely than not in between high pitched moans.

Lowering her head and bucking her hips, Rarity knew that she couldn’t hold out. Her little sister in her torn up costume was tonguing, kissing, lapping sloppily like a foal at a junior high prom - and was going to get her off harder than any stallion ever had. It built within her like nothing she’d ever felt before, rolling and pulsing harder with each heartbeat, each saliva-drenched lick, commanding her attention and her breath and her building moans as it grew like a hurricane inside her.

She heard Sweetie’s confused, delighted squeals. She heard her own panting and gasping. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered but feeling herself spurting all over her little sister, rubbing and bucking her hot, sticky mess so thoroughly into her face. Sweetie Belle was still licking, still nuzzling, still nestling her wet little face against Rarity’s warm nethers. Still twitching, still dripping, Rarity laid gently over Sweetie, hearing her gasp for air from behind. She wasn’t sure if she was still mindlessly muttering as she teased just under Sweetie’s tail with her hoof. Her wet little sex was just too cute.

When Sweetie Belle woke up, she didn’t know what time it was. She knew Rarity was sleeping next to her, and she knew they were on the floor. That was about it.

Her entire being ached. Underneath her tingling coat, she felt dry and exhausted – hollow, as if every last piece of her essence had been forced out of her by her sister’s attentions. Her limbs were splayed, stretched where they had fallen when she was simply too exhausted to continue, too tired to keep on touching Rarity, too tired to keep screaming. A simple, instinctual conflict tore at her – she wanted to sleep, but if she didn’t, she could play with Rarity anymore.

Ooh. There it was again.

Something cool splashed lazily against her face. It swam over her body, cutting up and under her costume. She shivered. Her face was wet. Her whole body cold and sticky, the wetness of sweat drying, matting her fur and making her costume stick to her. Rarity was wet too - after all she had squirted a lot of that hot liquid that covered her face and stomach and tail and mane–

It was wind.

A slight breeze finding its way into the dark hallway they’d eventually fallen asleep in. Before she knew it, Sweetie Belle was on her hooves. The cool night air felt like dozen gentle hooves gently trailing over her body, teasing her. That was enough to convince her that it was worth being awake.

She wobbled on her hooves. It hurt to stand up, but it was a good hurt, one that made her feel satisfied as she stretched. The suit stretched with her, rubbing taut against her joints. The wind made the fraying fabric brush up against the soaked spot between her hindlegs, a million tiny touches. She grinned widely, her eyes half shut and her head swaying slowly back and forth with her heavy breathing. This suit was the best thing in all of Equestria. Sweetie Belle wanted to string together the words so she could thank whoever made it for her, but it was so hard to think about anything that wasn’t rubbing against another pony’s warm, wet body.

The suit was a lot less fun without somepony touching it, though.

“Rarity,” Sweetie Belle whispered, barely able to make it more than a grunt. Her throat was cracked and dry, her voice sore from screaming in delight for the however-long Rarity touched and licked her all over her body…

Her sister didn’t respond. Rarity was laying ungracefully on the floor. It was very dark in the hallway – a faint yellow-white light from somewhere down the hallway but Sweetie Belle just barely made out the shape of her stomach rising and falling in the darkness. Little half-snores emanated from her sister.

Sweetie Belle leaned in closer, and pushed her sister with her hoof. Her sister’s snore stuttered, but found a rhythm again. Sweetie frowned, and clambered on top of Rarity. She tried again to say her name, but couldn’t find the word. Instead, she bent down and kissed her sister on the neck.

Rarity tasted like sweat and warmth, and Sweetie’s tongue running along her neck sent shivers through her. Her mouth made its way up to Rarity’s lips, and she shoved her tongue into Rarity’s warm mouth. And still, her sister barely stirred. C’mon, Rarity, I want you to do those amazing things with your mouth again. I wanna play with you all night. Please. She tried to make the words come out, but the only sound she made was a broken, inarticulate whine.

The wind blew over her again, and she moaned into her sister’s slack mouth. Breaking the kiss, she climbed off her sister’s stomach and spun in a slow circle, trying to find the source of the chill. Rarity mumbled, and turned over on her side, but Sweetie Belle had already found what she was looking for.

A window in the boutique had been cracked open, and the breeze was flowing gently through. Sweetie Belle stood in front of the window, breathing in the cool air. It sent chills across her soaked, costumed body. Already, she felt a familiar warm, wet trail creep from the spot everypony she met needed to touch and down her hindlegs, running over the dried layers of the same liquid.

The window was right next to the front door, which Sweetie Belle gently pushed open. Slowly, dreamily, Sweetie walked into the cool night air, as it caressed every wet inch of her.

The houses and street lights began to blur. The road names made no sense. Sweetie was still smiling. Being blown this way and that by the gentle breeze - perhaps it wasn’t what her sister had made her feel before, but it felt nice. Through her mane, under her belly, and especially on that bare spot beneath her tail, it felt so nice.

Nothing looked familiar anymore, but Sweetie Belle was still smiling.

She kept walking.

The Amazing Treehouse Adventures of Sweetie-Do-Well!

“Almost there.” Sweetie panted. Past the foliage, the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse had finally come into view. “Almost there.”

Her mouth hung open. She had tried to breathe through her nose most of the way over, but navigating the woods that surrounded the clubhouse was difficult enough on a hot summer’s day without her snug costume relentlessly rubbing her the whole way. Nevertheless, she tried to take deep breaths. Focus on what was ahead of her. A drop of sweat crawled over the little strands of fur on her forehead, its slow descent so painfully vivid - tickling her in a way she could just barely ignore.

She felt it every time her legs, thighs, flanks shifted. The silky material was tight across her whole body – intentionally, for optimal maneuverability when fighting bad guys. Right now, though, the only thing it was doing was making it stretch taut across her rump every time she took a step. Her tail brushed against the costume, and she gasped.

Taking in a deep breath, she stopped, feeling her whole body shivering. The rustic stairs leading up to the clubhouse were right in front of her now. So close. Getting here took twice as long as usual, but it would all be worth it. She had to stop and duck behind a tree every dozen yards to calm herself down. Even now, she wanted to duck under the shade of the clubhouse, and sit there concentrating on nothing but the sweat rolling down her body and making the costume stick to her–

No. She shook her head. Almost there. Can’t get distracted now.

She let out the breath in a snort. The hot air hovered in front of her face for a moment, almost palpable. “C’mon Sweetie-Do-Well, you can do this.” She put one hoof on the runged staircase.

“You’re a superhero.” Sweetie Belle smiled. A superhero who would most likely be paying a visit to Twilight’s house later tonight and asking her to tone down the enchantment just a little bit, but a superhero nonetheless. Right now, she would bare it.

Each hoof-fall was a planned procedure; a slow, deliberate plod up to the door of the clubhouse was the only way to be safe. She was already out of breath, but she should be okay if she just...ignored everything. Ignored all the sensations hoving on the edge of her consciousness, all the amazing feelings. The earth felt like it was trembling each time her hoof made contact with the ground, but she knew that it was just vibrations arching up her legs.

It would all be worth it. She was sure that this was her talent. Being a superhero. She was sure about the last thing she had tried, too, but she was surer about this one. Scootaloo had smirked when Sweetie brought up the possibility of Cutie Mark Crusader Crimefighters, and had burst out laughing when she told her friend she wanted to be the Mysterious Mare-Do-Well. Even Applebloom, normally supportive, had a smile that told Sweetie everything she needed to know about her friend’s thoughts on the suggestion.

Sweetie smirked as she reached the halfway point of her ponderous climb, and turned. The door was a few feet in front of her. Who’d be laughing, then, huh? Sure, she had kind of an unfair advantage in that her sister happened to be a skilled clothesmaker, but she was sure that she was the only filly out of the three clever enough to get her costume enchanted. Applebloom and Scootaloo had mulled over costumes and identities for themselves – Sweetie was wrapped up in herself at the time, but she heard enough to know that whatever they came up with was nothing compared to the heroic Sweetie-Do-Well. When she started up the stairs, the fabric dug into the spot between her hindlegs, eliciting a quick intake of breath. She closed her eyes, swallowed, and reopened them.

A minute later, Sweetie sat in front of the door, catching her breath. She’d made it. It was a struggle, but she’d done it. Her chest rose and fell, expanding the fabric and sending hints of a tracing touch all over her body. She grinned. It was amazing how good it felt to do things like just sit here, gently rubbing against the ground. Being a superhero was awesome.

Eventually, standing, she rose a hoof to knock on the door, then just as quickly pulled it back. No, that wouldn’t do. Suddenly, she wished she had a mirror. Sweetie usually rolled her eyes when her sister lapsed into a vain mood, but in this case presentation seemed important. The unstoppable Sweetie-Do-Well didn’t leave bad first impressions, even with her friends. She planted her legs firmly and held her head high. Puffed out her chest. Her entire body stiffened. A stalwart hero. She longed for a second that a gust of wind would flow by and send her cape flowing behind her, but then she remembered what a light breeze did to her the previous night.

She lifted a hoof, and knocked once.

“Ooooohh…” The sharp echo reverberated up her entire body, feeling like it was shaking her to the core. Sweetie rapidly knocked a few for times. Each hit was like another ponies strong hooves on her body, massaging her up and–

The door flew open and Scootaloo glared out. Sweetie Belle tried quickly to regain her composure and stand tall again.

“Finally,” Scootaloo said, glancing back into the clubhouse where Applebloom looked up from a book and smiled at Sweetie. “We’ve been waiting all day. What took-”

Scootaloo paused, and blinked at Sweetie. A smile slowly inched across her face. “What are wearing, Sweetie?”

Sweetie Belle looked at Scootaloo, then over back to Applebloom. Applebloom had her familiar bow, and Scootaloo’s mane and coat was as wild and unkempt as ever. Otherwise, they were completely unadorned.

Unclothed.

Costumeless.

Sweetie Belle’s heroic pose deflated into a sulk. She felt her face growing warm, suddenly feeling very stupid.

“I thought we were gonna’ try an’ be Cutie Mark Crusader Super Heroes today…” Sweetie Belle told the floor.

“Oh. Yeah.” Scootaloo looked away, shuffling her little wings. Behind her, Apple Bloom glared.

“I thought you said you’d tell her!” Apple Bloom marched over to the pair as Scootaloo lowered her head. Frowning, she looked to Sweetie. “I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle. We were gonna be Cutie Mark Crusaders Super Heroes, but Scootaloo and I ran into each other earlier, and I was already so tired from mornin’ chores-”

“Not to mention it’s really hot out today…” Scootaloo muttered, offering a few shameful glances towards Sweetie, who was still looking to the floorboards with a tightness in her throat. “I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

“It’s all right.” The words eked their way out of Sweetie’s mouth, soft and fragile.

“You, um,” Scootaloo faltered, her wings still shuffling. “You do look totally cool though. In the costume, I mean. It’s way better than mine.”

Sweetie glanced up at her friend, meeting Scootaloo’s awkward half-smile with her own. The tightness in her throat had begun to loosen up. “You think so?”

“Totally.” The orange pegasus laughed, “I just had a dumb mask from the costume shop. I think Apple Bloom had a couple of potato sacks stitched together or something.”

“Hey!” Apple Bloom swatted at Scootaloo’s head, narrowly missing as Scootaloo ducked, snickering. “Least I had something other than a flimsy ol’ mask.”

“It made her look like some kind of super-scarecrow!” Scootaloo could barely get her words past her laughter as Apple Bloom swatted again and again. Though she had managed to evade Apple Bloom’s blows so far, Scootaloo let out an oof as she was tackled to the ground.

“A scarecrow who’s got’cha pinned!” Apple Bloom pressed her weight against Scootaloo’s shoulders, using her free hoof to tickle her giggling friend’s stomach. Sweetie couldn’t help but crack a smile as Scootaloo fought through her squeals and breathless fits of laughter to try and push Apple Bloom off, to no avail.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Scootaloo shouted with what little air was left in her lungs. Apple Bloom let off, a look of smug satisfaction on her face. Wiping the tears from her eyes and catching her breath, the defeated pegasus turned to Sweetie Belle. “Guess I deserved that, huh?”

“Maybe a little.” Sweetie giggled. The pegasus grinned herself, spreading out on the wooden clubhouse floor. All of a sudden, something warm pressed against Sweetie’s side. More than warm, it was hot, and fuzzy, and smelled just a little bit sweaty. The sensations reverberated in Sweetie’s head, the heat overwhelming, the smell slowly becoming thick in her head…

“Darn tootin’, ya did! That’ll teach ya for messin’ with a bona-fide superhero.” Sweetie was sure Apple Bloom wasn’t yelling, though her voice boomed in her ear. Apple Bloom might have said something else, but Sweetie barely understood it. She was finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind wandered, back to the last night, back to how amazing and hot and wet and breathless and tingly she-

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Apple Bloom spoke cheerfully as she pulled away - the wind was so cool against the lingering sweat on Sweetie Belle’s coat - and walked across the clubhouse. Sweetie tried to remain calm. She had been planning on asking her friends about this, but now that they were here, it felt...scary. Maybe it wasn’t normal for fillies with magic powers to be feeling like that. What if her costume got all wet back there, right in front of them? Would they understand, or just think she was weird and gross? Sweetie didn’t want to be gross. She didn’t want this uncontrollable thing to be a part of her.

“Earth to Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom called, startling the little unicorn. Next to her was a pitcher full of ice and lemonade, dripping with condensation. Tapping a hoof to her chest, Apple Bloom stood proudly. “Me an’ Applejack made it fresh.”

“Grab me some?” Scootaloo asked from the floor as Sweetie trotted over, trying to put thoughts of dark, wet stains on her backside out of her mind. Apple Bloom scowled.

“Get it yerself, lazybones.” Clenching the handle between her teeth, Apple Bloom gently tipped the lemonade into the three small glasses laid out next to it. Sitting down near a glass, Sweetie winced as she laid her stomach against the hot wooden floor.

Sweetie stared at the glass. Condensation covered it, running down just like the beads of sweat were running down her face in trails of electric sensation.

Bolts coursing through her body. It felt like Applebloom leapt on her. Her whole body shaking, Sweetie Belle almost jumped and screamed but she spun to look and Applebloom just had her hoof on her shoulder, gently rubbing up and down.

“Wow,” Applebloom said, whispering more to herself. Her mouth was a slight frown that slowly became a smile as she rubbed. Looking at her friend, wide-eyed, Sweetie Belle wanted to find the words to say, but they caught in her throat. Just staring at Applebloom, her friends eyes looked a little hazy, as if she was distracted by something past Sweetie. “This is a really...nice costume, Sweetie. We oughta get some of this...whatever it is, from Rarity.”

Each time Applebloom’s hoof brushed against her it felt like her heart raced faster. She swallowed, trying to find voice. Applebloom continued touching her with that incredible hoof. Her whole concept of friendship was changing as the two fillies stared past one another. Cutie Mark Crusader Cuddlers…?

A galaxy away, Scootaloo was still pantomiming disability.

“It’s all the way over theeeeeere…” Scootaloo moaned, wriggling her hooves in the air. Applebloom turned away from Sweetie Belle and turned towards her other friend. Suddenly called back to reality, and somehow resisting the almost magnetic pull that was compelling her to stand up and soothe the ache deep in her by snuggling her whole body against Applebloom’s, Sweetie turned to focus on the glass.

She reached out, and lifted it in both hooves. It was so cold, a block of ice. Though she meant to take a couple of good gulps, Sweetie had to pause after one sip - the lemonade was so cool in her parched throat, its sweet and tangy goodness sliding down into her stomach. Sweetie let out what she thought was a sound of approval, but judging by the look Apple Bloom gave her, perhaps she was wrong.

“Don’t like it?”

“No, no, it’s really good!” Her hot breath passing through her throat made her want more. Want to feel that cool and sweet and tasty. Sweetie gulped slowly, barely pausing to lift her mouth from the glass, her eyelids fluttering. Apple Bloom shrugged, downing the rest of her glass with ease.

“Or maybe Apple Bloom’s turned evil and she’s poisoning youuuuuu-” Scootaloo slowly rolled herself across the room, flopping closer and closer to her friends. She fell just short of her glass, almost but not quite able to reach her full, perspiring glass with an outstretched hoof. Sweetie kept her muzzle poised over the empty glass for a moment, panting softly and letting the tangy scent waft gently into her nostrils. Realizing just how carried away she had gotten, Sweetie pulled herself upright, attempting to look as aware and inconspicuous as possible.

“Hey, um,” Apple Bloom started as she slowly edged Scootaloo’s glass out of her reach. “Are you all right? I feel awful about lettin’ you down today.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. And it’s all right, really. I just, uh,” Should she tell them? Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were her best friends, after all - maybe she was just overreacting. Maybe whatever had been happening to her was completely normal. Scootaloo was still wriggling on the floor, and Apple Bloom was starting to crack a smile at her antics. Maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought. “I’ve been having kind of a-”

Warmth. Not like the sun, not like the boards of wood she was laying on. Warmth that draped over her back and pressed against her, little hairs slipping between those in her white coat and lightly tickling her skin. Sweetie Belle gasped, the sudden inhalation of a familiar yet strange and complex scent. Scootaloo’s face was inches from hers.

“You’re my last hope, Sweetie Belle. Without your help, I will probably remain totally thirsty.” She smelled like sweat, too. Her exaggerated breaths weaved through the little hairs on Sweetie’s face. Her body heat went straight through Sweetie, her face suddenly feeling quite hot. Sweetie prayed that Scootaloo didn’t notice how, when she moved her leg just a tiny bit across her suit, it felt like some amazing, wonderful, soft force had exploded across her back. Her breaths were shaky. No. No. Not now.

“I, uh, Scootaloo-” Sweetie fought to get her words out. It was strangely difficult. Like she was in front of her class, trying to give a speech on something she knew nothing about - but it didn’t make any sense. She knew what she wanted to say. Sort of. Something about Scootaloo? Something she didn’t want Scootaloo to do? “I, uh. I d-don’t think-”

Without warning, Scootaloo rocketed away, taking her warmth and her scent with her. “No! Betrayed again! How could you do this to me, Spectacular Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie was starting to feel rattled. She laughed a hollow laugh along with Apple Bloom, trying not to think of how every part of her body was so without that wonderful feeling it had been bathing in moments ago. Just from Scootaloo, her friend, touching her. How could she have even considered telling them? They’d probably freak out. They’d probably never go near her again. Why would they, if even a friendly touch could make her all gross and wet. Wet in that place between her legs. Wet in that place that nopony talked about.

“You both have made a fool of me, denied me of my delicious lemonade for far too long.” Scootaloo got on her hooves, flattening her ears in mock-anger. “You’ve forced me, the once Sensational Scootaloo, into a life of misery and crime!”

Deep breaths, Sweetie told herself. In. Out.

“If I can’t have your precious lemonade…” Scootaloo continued in her dark, gravelly villain voice, “Then none of you can!”

It happened far too quickly for Sweetie Belle to react. Scootaloo pounced, tumbling into her and knocking her on her back. Warm. Again, so warm. Pressing down on her, radiating warmth and the smell of a sweaty filly. It was good. Something in Sweetie felt that she shouldn’t think her friend smelled good, but there was no denying it. It was everywhere, condensed around her wherever she wasn’t being pressed to the ground by her friend’s warm, slightly moist body. Sweetie couldn’t control the delighted scream that escaped her throat.

“I’ve got you now, Spectacular Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo cried, digging her hooves into Sweetie’s costumed stomach. Sweetie screamed with laughter - her friend’s hooves teasing and torturing her felt so much more devastating through the soft fabric of her costume. Tears blurred her vision, her lungs barely able to keep air in as Scootaloo continued her relentless assault. Half formed syllables and sounds escaped her mouth, their meaning and purpose forgotten as soon as they were spoken. Sweetie’s laughs had begun to slow down, her shrieks elongating into breathy moans, punctuated by quick staccato gasps.

Something felt nice. Even more nice than her friend’s hooves. Something tugging, rubbing - oh, it was her costume, brushing against that spot between her legs, that spot that was pressed right up against her friend. Scootaloo was soft. Scootaloo felt so nice to just push and push against, pulling the soft fabric against her and feeling that hot, wonderful body heat push back against her.

With a gasp, Scootaloo pulled back. The end of a moan turned into a groan of displeasure as Scootaloo took a step back. The contact, that wonderful feeling, suddenly left Sweetie Belle’s life and her whole body wanted more. Touching herself behind a locked bedroom door was one thing but grinding against another pony was on a whole other level of feeling. Her chest heaved up and down, as she lay, staring blankly at the ceiling, gasping in between her grunts.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Scootaloo’s leg tingled where Sweetie had rubbed against it, and her hooves were shaking. It wasn’t a feeling Scootaloo could place, but there was no doubt it was a nice one. Kind of like plunging into a hot bath all at once, not just with her body but with everything.

Sweetie lay on the ground, not responding. Applebloom slowly set her glass of lemonade on the ground and rose from the floor. “Sweetie Belle?”

Scootaloo looked back at Applebloom, then to her friend on the floor. The blank look she’d had slowly turned into a smile. “It looks like I’ve discovered the Spectacular Sweetie Belle’s weakness! She can’t handle being tickled!” Her whole body tensed, and she gave her rump a wiggle before pouncing on Sweetie again.

A mix of screaming and laughter echoed through the clubhouse and out into the surrounding forest as Scootaloo’s hooves fell on her again, rubbing all over her belly and chest. It was shrill, manic giggling and moaning, all punctuated with rapid-fire gasping and her body rose each time Scootaloo pressed down, desperate for attention, desperate to be touched. She was humping against her friend’s leg, her whole body moving up and down in spastic motions.

Scootaloo stopped tickling her slowly, once she realized that her friend’s laughter had turned into something much more guttural. Some part of her wanted to step away from Sweetie Belle, but most of her just wanted to know why rubbing against the costume felt so good. She brought up a hoof and ran it in slow circles over Sweetie Belle’s chest, reveling in the feel of the costume in a way she hadn’t earlier. Sweetie Belle cooed under her. There was still that insisting rubbing up and down her leg, and Scootaloo realized distantly that that was weird, Sweetie Belle was acting strange, but it was becoming hard to focus on that.

“Man, Applebloom,” Scootaloo whispered. “You were right. This costume feels awesome. What’s it made of anyway, Sweetie Belle?” Sweetie didn’t answer – barely even raised her head in Scootaloo’s direction. She licked her lips and swallowed, but if there were words, they were lost amid the low whimpers and loud gasps of air.

Applebloom took another step towards the pair. Frowning, she looked them up and down. Her friends were acting weird, especially Sweetie Belle. It wasn’t hard to think of another time where the trio had fallen into fits of tickle fights, and Sweetie Belle had never been quite this incapacitated by them.

“Well, get off a’ her and let her answer,” Applebloom said, “She’s just gonna keep makin’ those sounds if you keep ticklin’ her.”

Scootaloo looked at Applebloom, blinked, and shook her head. “What?” Applebloom seemed so distant compared to what Sweetie was making her feel. Anything she had to say could wait. Turning back to Sweetie almost immediately, her hoof found a steady path up and down Sweetie Belle’s side. Man, this felt nice. Nicer than any of the outfits she’d ever worn, nicer than anything she’d ever felt. No wonder Sweetie Belle wore this costume even though it was so hot. The sweat was plainly visible on Sweetie’s face and on the costume. Maybe she’d let her try it on later?

“I said, get off a’ her so she can answer you,” Applebloom tried again, her voice a little louder and carrying a hint of worry.

“I’m not even—” Scootaloo closed her eyes. Again, her whole body shuddered. This was so strange and she didn’t want to stop. There some something more – a warm wetness that sprouted suddenly against her leg and moved up and down with Sweetie’s body. The whole clubhouse was starting to smell like sweat and something else, some other smell Scootaloo liked. Should she tell Sweetie to stop rubbing against her leg? It was weird and – gosh, it felt so amazing even down there.

“I’m not even tickling her anymore,” Scootaloo said between loud, trembling breaths, having a hard time finding her words. “I’m just...she won’t stop up rubbing up against my leg.”

Taking a few steps over and pacing around to Sweetie, she stared at her friend. Sweetie’s eyes were shut, and she could see the fur around them soaked in tears. A huge, unashamed smile spread across her face. Small grunts accompanied the diminutive twitching each time Scootaloo’s hoof changed direction.

“Sweetie Belle, are you okay?” Applebloom said, loud enough to be heard over Sweetie Belle’s murmuring. Slowly, Sweetie Belle’s eyes opened and stared past Applebloom’s, then she gave a slight nod. Applebloom wasn’t convinced. “Get off of her, Scoots, she’s actin’ really weird.”

Scootaloo knew Applebloom was right. Sweetie Belle was acting weird and amazing. She was warm and felt so good to touch. Heart beating. Sweat dripping. Looking up slowly at Applebloom, she couldn’t help but mirror some of the sounds of Sweetie Belle was making – the soft babble of a very happy filly.

“She—the suit feels really good,” Scootaloo admitted, confessing it more to herself. “I don’t...It feels really nice to touch.” Repositioning herself so she was in a more stable position over Sweetie Belle, she leaned down closer. Did anything in her life feel so good as rubbing against her friend right now? The smell of sweat and shampoo and detergent and that other unmaskable indistinguishable smell wafted from Sweetie Belle. Leaning down closer, their stomachs rubbed together. She could feel each individual hair connect and cling to Sweetie’s suit, and each one sent distinct shocks through her.

“What in the hay are you two doing?” Applebloom said, walking closer. The smell of apples and dirt. A warm fire, ash. Pine needles, cut flowers. “Get off of her, Scootaloo!”

“I…” Words were a lot harder than just continuing to rub against her friend. That was the easiest and best thing to do in the world.. “What is…” If Scootaloo had known that this would feel so good, she would have asked her friends to do it with her a long time ago. Scootaloo looked up at Applebloom, mulling over words in the haze of happiness.

“Sweetie feels really good…” she said. She couldn’t explain more, couldn’t find the words to capture it. She’d never had these feelings before. Not with her friend. Not with anypony. “I think it’s something—”

Sweetie Belle suddenly lurched upwards, rubbing her face against Scootaloo’s, nuzzling hard into her. The same magnetic pull that clung between the two fillies and keep Scootaloo locked in contact with her friend prevented her from jerking backwards, and feeling Sweetie’s burning, tear-stained face was a new, bright sensation. The urge towards panic quickly evaporated and Scootaloo found herself nuzzling back.

“Ahright, you two lovebirds,” Applebloom said, letting out a forced, nervous laugh. “I’m serious time to break it up. We have crusadin’ to get—”

Scootaloo didn’t hear a word her friend was saying. The warmth coming from Sweetie, the hot breath that flowed over her each time her friend moaned was too distracting. They nudging each other clumsily, both of their eyes closed. Scootaloo didn’t want it to stop. They brushed against one another, breathing each other in.

A pair of lips brushed against another. Once, then again. The third time, they halted and Sweetie’s mouth clamped onto her friend’s.

“—oh my gosh.” Applebloom said, wide-eyed. Her heart was racing. She knew enough about adult stuff – Applejack had given her enough half-lectures on romance and the practicalities of it – to know that this was not something that friends do. Having no idea what to do, or what to say, she sat on the floor.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had entered another world where it was only the two of them. Sweetie’s tongue wrestled its way into Scootaloo’s mouth, the pegasus only able to put up a second of cursory resistance. She regretted even that. The tongue in her mouth was hot, she could taste Sweetie Belle’s breath. Moaning deep into her friends mouth, she pushed against Sweetie’s snout, forcing her to the ground.

She knew what kissing was, of course – heard whispers and rumors on the school playground, games and dares escalated. Nothing she knew told her it would be like this. This was the most amazing sensation she had ever felt, Sweetie Belle’s warm, wet tongue in her mouth. The muffled moans she voiced down Sweetie’s throat made both of their mouths shake which just made everything feel even better.

“I can’t believe it.” Applebloom, still motionless.

Kissing didn’t describe this. Scootaloo had no idea if there was a word to describe this. If it existed, she didn’t know what it was. There was nothing elegant or romantic about it, not like the casual pecks she’d seen her parents give each other. Why had they never told her that kissing felt good?

“Girls...knock it off…”

Her tongue licked against Sweetie’s, pushing it around her own mouth and then thrusting into her friends’. Some distant part of her was dimly aware that she would have found this gross a day ago, that kissing like this was something adults did and not best friends, but that part of her was becoming quieter with each passing second – paved over with a thicker coat of pleasure each time the one fillies tongues brushed against the other’s. It was finally quieted, a tiny whisper unheard against the throaty growls that Sweetie and Scootaloo shared as they attacked each other’s mouths with as much ferocity as they’d ever shown in their roughhousing.

“Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle s-sittin’ in a tree,” Applebloom said, her voice shaking. She laughed a tinny and hollow laugh. “K-I-S-S…”

Air. Scootaloo needed air. It was so easy to forget basic stuff like that when you can only focus on your friend’s lips on yours and her tongue in your mouth. She waited until the last second she could bear it, then pulled back and lifted her head away from Sweetie Belle. She took in one loud lungful of air, then another, then opened her eyes.

Sweetie Belle was in the exact same state, desperately trying to catch her breath. Their chests met each time they breathed deep, and almost subconsciously they started rocking against each other.

“Finally!” Applebloom said, standing up. “What in Equestria’s gottin’ into you two?”

Their kissing was not neat. Their lips dripped with each other’s saliva, and around their mouths the fur was warm, wet, and matted. Scootaloo’s tongue stuck out from her mouth and a steady stream of saliva slowly fell ran down it and drooled onto Sweetie Belle’s chin.

The only sound that came from the fillies was heavy panting. Scootaloo thought – for a moment – about saying something, but the way Sweetie stared back at her and the big, vacant grins they shared said everything that need to be said. It took about ten seconds for Scootaloo to determine that her breathing was okay before she slammed her snout hard into Sweetie Belle’s again, muffling the delighted gasp this drew from the unicorn.

“Oh, for pete’s sake,” Applebloom said, rushing over to the pair.

It was too good to stop. Every part of Scootaloo’s body tingled, especially the parts where she was directly touching Sweetie Belle’s sticky silky costume. She wanted all of her touching Sweetie Belle, as much as she could. There was a sudden forcefulness on the back of her head – somehow she realized that Sweetie Belle had wrapped her forehooves around her and was holding her close.

“Hey,” Applebloom said, pushing on Scootaloo’s shoulder. The pair was oblivious to her presence.

Sweetie Belle pulled away from Scootaloo and moaned out loud through clenched teeth. Again, there was that wet sensation on Scootaloo’s leg as Sweetie Belle quickly stroked that spot between her spread legs up and down. Scootaloo loved every second of it. She wanted to be wet and warm all the time. It felt so good.

“Hey,” Applebloom said again, nudging. Her voice was wet.

Still wrapped around the pegasus, Sweetie Belle had pullen Scootaloo down to her neck. Wanting – needing – to feel everything she could, Scootaloo began kissing that part of her friend, too.

“I wanna try,” Applebloom said, pushing Scootaloo harder. The pegasus’ lips slipped from her friend, excess drool slathering across the damp white hairs of Sweetie’s neck. Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes barely open as her lower body continued pushing hard against the lowly groaning unicorn beneath her. Pursing her lips, Apple Bloom shoved both of her hooves toward Scootaloo. “Come on!”

Scootaloo gave no resistance, and Apple Bloom found herself tumbling face-first into the warm, gyrating bodies of her friends. The three of them paused, just for a moment. Apple Bloom stared up at Sweetie Belle, her muzzle pressed against the fabric of her costume. Sweetie’s mouth was wet with saliva, a drop of which had fallen from her lips and sat on the hot wooden floor. Something about her friend’s state felt strange to Apple Bloom, but it was getting harder to figure out just what it was by the second. Each breath that passed through her nose was hot and moist. Each breath took more of Sweetie Belle’s strong, sweaty scent into her lungs. With every exhale, Apple Bloom told herself to pull away, that what she was doing was weird and wrong. Her breaths grew deeper. Her eyelids drooped.

Something wonderfully fuzzy touched her cheek, and Apple Bloom pushed against it. Between the smooth, wet silkiness of the costume and whatever she was unable to stop nuzzling against, Apple Bloom wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt this good before. The slightest touch elicited delicate half-grunts from her throat. Every detail of the sounds of her friends, so very close, panting and gasping around her, rushed through her ears. The soft thing was touching her lips now. Apple Bloom turned her head, opening her mouth to say something, something she wasn’t quite sure of.

Scootaloo’s nose bumped softly against her own. Her mouth was open too, the two fillies panting softly against one another. The pegasus’ tongue hung slightly out of her mouth, a small dark wet patch growing around where it lay on Sweetie’s costume. There was so much Apple Bloom didn’t understand. Some strange feeling not unlike embarrassment stirred inside her. Her cheeks flushed, and she felt the instinct to look away from Scootaloo, whose eyes had met hers. She couldn’t look away. As she took in deep lungfuls of the myriad mesmerizing scents surrounding her, Apple Bloom tried to bring words to her tongue again. So many questions shouted from in her mind, but they all seemed foreign and jumbled. Eventually, the little earth pony settled for the only words she could think of.

“You’re...really pretty.” Apple Bloom’s voice was low, cracked and breathy. The words were barely out of her mouth before she felt Scootaloo’s lips, soft and wet and warm, close on hers. A sliver of doubt, wondering why she’d blurted those words to her friend, drifted briefly through Apple Bloom’s mind before the taste of Scootaloo’s tongue washed it away.

Apple Bloom moaned hard into Scootaloo’s muzzle. The two fillies’ tongues shoved into each other, their spit smacking as their lips frantically collided. Apple Bloom’s hooves caressed her friend’s wonderfully fuzzy body, her softly twitching wings, her short, messy mane. Sweetie’s warm chest, rising and falling and covered in that amazing fabric, pressed against her cheek. The sensations, the smells, the tastes - they were electricity to the young filly. Coursing through her, across her skin, tingling at the edges of her hooves and lips and something far deeper. Apple Bloom felt wet, wet like Scootaloo’s mouth, wet like Sweetie Belle’s costume, wet like the air rushing through her nose.

Something shifted under Scootaloo. Something that made her snap away from Apple Bloom’s mouth, strands of drool dripping from her face, and gasp. It was between her legs, silky and textured and rubbing against her so hard. The panting pegasus pushed back against it, and the tingly, drippy sensation burned brighter than ever before. Her wings fluttered, and her eyes struggled to focus as she looked down, down at that spot near her tail.

It was the costume. Sweetie’s legs were splayed apart as she lay moaning on the floor. Between them, the costume glistened, the fabric dark and soaked. Pressing up against her. Whatever that shining, growing wetness was, Scootaloo could smell it from where she was. Strong and enthralling - it felt like the smell was fogging up her head. Something shifted again, jerking a staccato grunt from Scootaloo. Through the messy costume, Scootaloo could make out something flexing underneath. A tiny nub would show itself ever so briefly before hiding away. Each time it poked out, Sweetie Belle’s drawn out moans would ascend to a quick, sharp squeal. Scootaloo felt a vacant grin spread on her face as she pressed herself against that warm wetness once more.

“Ah…” Apple Bloom stared up at Scootaloo’s dumbly grinning face, weakly holding a hoof up to the sweat-coated pegasus. The scent coming from Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle made even that simple syllable a complex task to pronounce, but she had to get Scootaloo’s attention. Her tongue stuck out, begging for more attention. Begging to taste those lips again, feel their softness and the dangling strands of her drool crash into her once more. Taking a few more deep breaths, she tried to call out to her friend. Tried to call out her name. “Ah…”

The squelches from between Scootaloo’s legs grew faster, louder. The pegasus could barely hear Apple Bloom’s grunts and groans - she was having a hard time telling where any of the many sounds flooding her brain were coming from. Countless gentle wet beads tickled the hairs of her thighs as they ran down, some collecting in the fibers of Sweetie’s costume while small puddles formed on the wooden floor beneath them.

Apple Bloom struggled to move as she shakily rolled over, not daring to lose contact with Sweetie’s amazing, wet costume. Her hind legs sat to either side of Sweetie’s head. Apple Bloom breathed in gulps of her friends’ scent, stronger than ever, as she pushed herself up on her forelegs. Her eyes remained locked on Scootaloo’s lips. She didn’t bother to flinch when a drop of spittle from one of Scootaloo’s guttural cries landed on her cheek, sliding down to her chin. She was almost there.

A deep, throaty cry erupted from Sweetie Belle. Apple Bloom felt it in her stomach, echoing through her body. At that moment, the earth filly lurched upwards, clumsily pressing her snout against Scootaloo’s gaping lips. Scootaloo, on the other hand, found herself unable to move, on the verge of something that made her shake and moan and push and drool. When those little twitches between Sweetie’s legs suddenly became wet, forceful spurts against the drenched fabric, expanding the stain against her legs rapidly, it became too much for the little pegasus to handle.

Scootaloo wasn’t sure what she shouted. It was loud, it was gibbering, it was muffled by Apple Blooms lips. It rolled through her like thunder, again and again, coming out of her and all over her now soggy rump. What it was, where it came from, what it meant - none of that mattered anymore. Scootaloo’s eyelids fluttered as she pushed and pushed, her own juices sliding down Sweetie Belle’s already thoroughly soaked costume, desperate to keep these wonderful sensations going as long as she could.

Apple Bloom’s lips sucked and tongue worked as hard as it could, but Scootaloo was not giving her the same satisfaction as before. She only panted, quivering, her jaw slack and her balance increasingly unsteady. Pushing into Scootaloo’s snout a little harder, the dazed Apple Bloom was confused when the object of her affections fell backwards, lazily rubbing herself on the wood floor.

Things were starting to feel a little clearer for Apple Bloom. Looking down, she saw Sweetie Belle’s costumed legs - a large dark stain spread outward from between them, darkening her thighs and lower belly. She admired it for a moment, the knowledge that something wasn’t quite right fighting desperately to get through the fog in her head.

Apple Bloom turned her head. The little white unicorn she lay on top of fast asleep, though she twitched occasionally as Apple Bloom shifted.

The little earth filly meant to stand up, but as she started, felt something smooth against her. She’d shifted her back end for only a moment. Between her legs. Apple Bloom relaxed her forehooves, letting out a shuddering sigh as her face fell closer to the wet fabric beneath her. She brushed against Sweetie Belle again. And again.

“...oo. Hey! Scootaloo! Wake up!”

With a snort, Scootaloo’s eyes jerked open. Her mouth tasted strange. Staring up at Apple Bloom’s worried face, Scootaloo had a moment of blissful pause before the memories of what they’d just done came flooding back in an instant. The little pegasus swallowed, her saliva struggling to pass through her dry throat.

“Apple Bloom-” They’d kissed. Scootaloo tried not to think about it. She’d kissed her friend, and she’d liked it. A lot. “Um.”

“Scootaloo, I...” Apple Bloom broke eye contact, quickly recognizing why Scootaloo was acting so bashful. “That’s not important right now. Somethin’s wrong with Sweetie Belle!”

It took more effort that Scootaloo realized to lift her head. Her legs felt soggy - the sensation stirring more vivid memories she didn’t know how to feel about. Her confusion fell to the wayside when she saw Sweetie Belle sprawled out before her.

Lying on her back, as she must have been for quite a while, Sweetie Belle’s forehoof was wedged firmly between her hindlegs. There was barely a spot on her costume’s hindquarters that wasn’t damp, the wetness crawling up her forehoof as it shoved against the outline of her sex. Her voice was dry, small broken squeaks that struggled to escape her windpipe.

Scootaloo jumped up, still feeling a bit woozy. Sweetie’s eyes were glazed over, staring up at some blurry point at the ceiling. Her movements were jerky and spastic, the hoof between her hind legs alternatively kneading hard up and down and sitting there, pressed down.

“Sweetie…?” Scootaloo wandered over to her friend, stumbling. Her wings extended, fluttered, and retracted again. A thick aura of exhaustion weighed down her entire body. It was hard to move, harder to think.

The entire room was heavy with the smell of sweat and musk, the now-familiar and intoxicating odor hanging in the air like a fog. It thickened which each step she took towards Sweetie Belle, until, when she reached her friend, she was gasping it into her lungs. It was so hard to breathe. She would have killed for a glass of water. Applebloom stood away, shifting on her hooves.

“Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo said. Sweetie Belle responded – maybe? – with a grunt slightly louder than the small, cracked ones she was emitting every few seconds.

“Is she okay?”

“I dunno…she’s…Sweetie Belle, you in there?” Scootaloo said breathlessly, gently nudging her friend’s shoulder.

The sensation started where she touched the costume and spread throughout her body. From that nudge, Sweetie Belle let out a bare, throaty moan and started convulsing on the floor, and the electric pulse of pleasure that coursed through Scootaloo brought wave of memories back. Memories of her body grinding against her friends, grunting noises she never knew she could make. Memories of a messy tangle of sweat-drenched fillies, touching their bodies anywhere they could. Memories of semi-conscious moans as the matted fur between her hindlegs just kept getting more and more wet as she humped against her friend.

Scootaloo blinked, and took a quick step back from Sweetie Belle.

“I gotta…” Applebloom said, pacing back and forth so quickly it was like she was dancing in place, unable to decide where to go. “I gotta...go tell Applejack. Something’s wrong with her.”

Scootaloo tried to respond, but it was hard to talk. Hard to think. So much of her knew what she did was wrong, somehow, but she wanted to do it again, anyway. Just wanted to drag Applebloom over with her and huddle back into a fumbling mess of moans and groping.

Applebloom opened the door to the clubhouse, and the cool air of near-twilight rushed into the room. Instinctively, Scootaloo took a deep breath of it. The crisp taste of it was almost unfamiliar. She could still taste Sweetie Belle on her tongue. She licked her lips, and swallowed.

“Applebloom, wait!” Scootaloo called out, turning around from Sweetie Belle and hoping that simply putting her out of sight would quell all the things she wanted to her defenseless friends, and the ache that echoed from between her hindlegs like a heartbeat.

“What?! We gotta get someone,” Applebloom said, sounding like she was crying, “Something’s wrong with our friend!”

“Don’t tell anyone–”

“Course I’m gonna tell someone, just look at here, she ain’t–”

“No, I mean,” Scootaloo said, “Don’t tell anyone what we...did.”

Applebloom stopped pacing and stared at Scootaloo.

“I mean…” Scootaloo paused. She couldn’t give it words but at the same time just talking about it and thinking about all the stuff that she didn’t want Applebloom to tell her big sister was making her heart race. “We could get in trouble.”

Applebloom was silent for a while. Scootaloo didn’t know what else there was to say.

“...I know. I won’t tell her about that,” Applebloom said, and turned towards the steps. Scootaloo smiled, and started after her.

“I’ve gotta get home, too, clean up this–”

“No!” Applebloom suddenly rounded on her. From this close up, Scootaloo could clearly see that she was in fact crying. At least, that’s what she assumed that wetness on her cheek was from, and not from the time that Scootaloo’s tongue got a little out of control and started licking Applebloom’s face, while she smiled and started licking back–

“You’ve gotta stay here with Sweetie Belle, an’ make sure she don’t wander off or get into any more trouble or anything.” Applebloom said, pointing back to the room where Sweetie’s pitiful noises still echoed.

“It’ll be okay, Scoots. I’ll be back with Applejack soon and everything’ll be okay and we can forget this whole thing ever happened. Just watch her.”

Applebloom marched down the steps. “Oh, and, uh, maybe try to clean yourself up a bit. The whole clubhouse smells like a...” Applebloom trailed off, staring up at her friend. A second later, she turned and dashed off into the darkening woods. Scootaloo watched her go, eager to follow, but, after a minute, turned back and stumbled through the threshold of the clubhouse.

Sweetie Belle had seemed to calm down a bit. Her hoof still made slow circles between her legs, but her groans had become low and infrequent. Scootaloo looked over her friend again, unsure of what to do. She wanted to touch her friend again. That deep, unmentionable thing within her wanted to feel Sweetie Belle again, more than ever. Just one touch. Maybe one touch against that warm, wet spot that felt so nice before…

Sweetie’s eyes were barely open, and despite the heady, hot fog that clouded the clubhouse and Scootaloo’s head, she stopped. Her friend was lying, acting like she had some kind of fever, and all Scootaloo could think of was herself. The little pegasus frowned, sitting down beside her now gently breathing friend.

After a moment, Scootaloo’s eyes fell on the pitcher of lemonade sitting just beyond her. The ice was gone, and the glass was dotted with drops of condensation. Maybe Sweetie Belle could use something to drink. Scootaloo pushed herself to stand up, but her legs barely listened. Her whole body complained, exhausted. She was going to get up. She was going to get Sweetie Belle a glass of lemonade, then Apple Bloom and Applejack would show up and everything would be fine. She was just going to close her eyes for a second.

Sweetie’s face felt hot. Shifting her jaw, she quickly realized she’d been laying in a small puddle of her own drool. Her eyelids opened just a tad, the big orange blur next to her coming in to focus.

Scootaloo. Fast asleep on the floor next to her and snoring loudly. Pushing herself up, Sweetie Belle wiped her cheek with a hoof. Sweetie pulled back, her eyes widening as she stared at her wet hoof and her sleeping friend beside her. Those lips had been on her neck. Those hooves had touched her where no pony had ever touched her…

Her whole body felt like a mess. Her legs and tail were soaked, along with a small spot on her chest. Did she remember Apple Bloom saying something about getting Applejack? Applejack couldn’t see her like this. Couldn’t see what she had done with her friends. Sweetie Belle’s mind reeled. Something was wrong with her. She needed to leave. Had to go home and clean herself up.

Sweetie’s legs trembled with each step she took toward the door of the clubhouse. The wet costume tugged against her flanks, her legs, that place between them - it could feel so good if she reached back there again. Taking controlled breaths through her nose, Sweetie Belle took slow, steady steps down the ramp. The setting sun cast long shadows from the surrounding trees, and the little unicorn took a deep breath of lukewarm air before stepping forward.

She was going to go home, take off her costume, and forget that this ever happened.