Scootaloo trudged up the large staircase to her home, nudging her way past the door. It was a beautiful autumn’s day, and the filly couldn’t believe her luck. The day had finally come!
She was home alone. At least until tomorrow.
Hastily shutting the door, she tossed her saddlebags aside to wherever she darned-well pleased. Who would tell her to pick it up? Probably her mother, but Scootaloo didn’t have to worry about any of that until tomorrow. For now, she was an adult, and the world was hers. With a grin, she found her way upstairs to her bedroom, making as much noise as possible, singing out loud, anything her parents normally frowned upon. She reached her doorway, and paused. Wait a second! She thought, I’ve got the whole house to myself! There’s like, a way bigger bed! With that, she bolted down the hallway, wings buzzing behind her, and did a massive jump-and-bellyflop right onto her parents bed. She nestled into the pillows, taking in its warmth and comfort. Life was good.
Hours passed. She couldn’t remember how long she had laid there on the super awesome massive double bed, hooves curled around a pillow, spooning it. She tried to think of things she should do, now that she was an adult for the day. Super awesome things she couldn’t do before, but nothing came to mind. At some point or another she had grabbed the pillow and hugged it, simply because it wasn’t something she would normally do, and because it wasn’t her pillow. The pillow had slid down, and before long hugging had become more like spooning. It felt good, and that’s why she didn’t stop, but it was a weird kind of good. Like, when a colt at School gives you a Hearts and Hooves day card and no one else. Or that one time she had shared a sloppy kiss with Sweetie. She wasn’t supposed to talk about that.
Yet as time passed she found herself thinking more and more of that exact kiss. That moment where they had connected, Sweetie’s nervous tongue poking through her lips. That adorable squeak she emitted when Scootaloo reciprocated with the same action. Without thinking, her hips started moving, grinding with the pillow. A heat started to build up inside her and a million little lights went off in her brain. This was the adult thing she should do! Duh!
Pinning the pillow down, she quickly flipped onto all fours, straddling it with her rear legs. Sweat dripped from her forehead as that feeling returned. Thoughts of doubt flicked through her mind, but she pushed them away in an instant as she started to hump the inanimate pillow. There was a wet mark where her crotch touched the pillow, but that barely concerned her. What was important now was the feeling of the fabric between her legs, the material against her fillyhood, that intense, itching heat inside her. She had lit a fire that would not be easily satiated. A moan escaped the pegasus’ mouth, and her whole body shivered. She was on her parents bed, humping a pillow, getting it all icky and wet, and she had just moaned. It all seemed pretty wrong to her. No, that wasn’t the word she was looking for. Naughty. That was it. She liked it.
The desperate, needy humping never stopped. Even after her breath became quick and shallow - her moan turned into grunts and low squeals of pleasure. The pillow became drenched. She felt amazing, her little wings flapping. Her forehooves, which had previously kept her propped up above the pillow, wobbled, and she collapsed. She was now laying completely on her stomach, flank rising and falling furtively, desperate gasps escaping her lips. She was being too loud, and she knew it.
What if someone heard? What if the neighbors called her parents, thinking she was hurt?
So Scootaloo did the one thing she actually knew how to do. She buried her muzzle into the pillow and pretended it was Sweetie. She kissed, nibbled, and licked it, relentlessly making out with the defenseless mound of fabric. The feeling of heat begin to increase as she found herself thinking and imagining the object of her incessant grinding as a real pony, Sweetie Belle no less. She was very, very close to something. She could feel it. A peak? Would it be better? Scootaloo had no idea. No frame of reference for what she was feeling. She knew was that she liked it. If that was what this burning heat would cause, she would do it: she wanted it.
Her thoughts suddenly became clouded and disjointed. She doubled down on the pillow, driving it so hard the bed began to squeak. She increased the speed and passion for which she kissed and nipped at the Sweetie pillow. That weird, strange feeling rose up, and -
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” the squeal the young filly let out trailed off into the air. She immediately bit down on a mouthful of pillow. A flurry of fluids suddenly drenched the bottom of the pillow and the inside of her thighs. For a moment, she pressed herself so tightly and grinded so roughly she thought it might turn to dust. But almost as soon as it started, the feeling began to dissipate.
What was left, as she keeled over onto her side and wrapped her hooves around her now used and messy friend, sweaty and panting, was a satisfied glow, and the sudden overwhelming weight of fatigue. Wow was the only thing that came to mind. Being an adult is awesome!
As Scootaloo drifted off to sleep - a few minutes couldn’t hurt! - images of a small white unicorn whom she had once shared a kiss with swam through her mind. Her eyes slowly closed, and in her dreams it wasn’t a pillow she was spooning so tightly to her chest: it was Sweetie Belle.
