Adolescence

Chapters

The Birds and the Bees
The Schoolgirl Crush
Meet Me At The Clubhouse
Pajama Party
Basket Case
Confessions
Carnival

The Birds and the Bees

At some point or another, the sun went down.

Scootaloo had fallen asleep. What was supposed to be a few minutes of shut-eye had become a few hours. But who cares? After all, her parents wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. She didn’t have to worry about anything else.

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. It echoed through her half-asleep mind, ringing in her ears. Was that the neighbors? Wasn’t it a bit late? No, that was definitely in her house. Who would be walking in at this time of night, when her parents were away? How dare they intrude into her home while she, the current standing owner of the house, was sleeping upstairs? Scootaloo didn’t bother moving. She told herself it would sort itself out, even as hooves clopped up the stairs. Maybe she should…

“Scootaloo.” Her mother’s voice, loud and shrill, brought her out of her trance. Like a magician who allowed a hypnotized victim, who had just made a fool of himself walking around on stage acting like a chicken, to regain consciousness. With a start, Scootaloo snapped to attention, sitting up in a matter of seconds. She had almost completely forgotten about the pillow, but like the poor and unsuspecting pony on stage, everything came flooding back as her mother walked up to inspect it. She knew: she had smelled it in the air, seen it on the pillow. She knew exactly what happened. The mare’s eyes widened as she attempted to think of something to say.

Scootaloo's heart may as well have stopped. She might as well have been shot down right then and there, banished to the cruel torment of being grounded in the cold hell that would be her bedroom, subjected to the purgatory of unending boredom. She knew very little about what exactly she had done, what that smell was, or why her mother looked so distraught, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't something she was supposed to do. Or that is was downright embarrassing to be caught here, curled up on her parents bed, with one of their pillows covered in fluids that had come from inside of her. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out of her mouth. Anxiety wracked her brain. She wanted to run, but her hooves had become cold and clammy. Wings shuffled awkwardly as the tense silence continued to etch into her ears.

“You… you best go to your room,” was all her mother managed. Scootaloo didn’t argue. Swallowing hard, she nodded. Finding the courage to stand, she trudged her way to her own bed, crawled under the blankets, and buried her face under the pillow. For all she knew, she was dead meat.

There came the hushed voices of her mother and father in the hall. She thought she heard someone laugh. Creeping to her doorway in the dark room, she peeked out. Her mother, strands of hair hanging loosely from her mane in various places, seemed rather frazzled: an enormous change from her usual calm and perfected appearance. Her father, on the other hand, looked much lighter. He rolled his eyes, put his hoof on his wife’s shoulders and comforted her, smiling warmly. He always knows what to say, Scootaloo reflected.

Placing her ear to the crack in the door, the filly managed to pick out a few fractured statements - “She’s growing up, dear.” and “Don’t even bother cleaning it. Throw it out. You can buy a new one!” - all of which seemed to be relaxing her mother, but she still looked upset. All of a sudden, the stallion stood up and walked to her door, knocking twice. Scootaloo had thrown herself at her bed and under the covers in a matter of seconds.

“Come in,” she muttered. He did, turning on her bedside lamp as he sat down beside her bed. He didn’t say anything for a long time, pondering over his own thoughts.

“Do you understand what you've done?”

She nodded grimly, now turning to face him.

“Your mother doesn’t seem to think so. Look, honey…” He suddenly reached out to place a hoof on her shoulder to comfort her just as she was about to hide her face in embarrassment. He began to choose his next words carefully.

“You did nothing wrong, okay? It’s a part of growing up. It’s a private thing: every grown-up at some point in their life does it. Except… usually, we use our hooves, not pillows.” He grimaced, thinking of his favorite pillow, and how it was now utterly ruined. Her mother wanted to wash it, but… he would never get the image out of his mind. Better to remove the pillow from existence.

As he went on, he began to give his daughter a talk about being in heat, colts, sex, puberty, and a variety of other things the poor filly never wanted to hear from her own father. Yet hearing him talk about it in the tone he always used to address her when instructing her on something, one she had grown to respect, put her slightly at ease. As much ease as one could have whilst getting ‘The Talk’ from one’s parents after being caught post-coitus with their favorite pillow anyway.

Finishing his lesson, he leaned back and cleared his throat.

“So, do you have any questions?” She furrowed her brow, thinking. Did she? It all seemed pretty self-explanatory. Everything fit, piece by piece. But there was one detail that had been gnawing at her.

“What if...if I want to date fillies… i-instead of colts…?” She blinked, surprised. Why did she just say that? Why did that thought, subconsciously lingering at the back of her mind, suddenly produce itself and formulate words at this exact moment?

Her heart was thumping inside her chest, and the room around her inexplicably seemed very cramped. She was sweating. She had heard of ponies getting kicked out over this sort of thing, disowned by their parents and left to fend for themselves. Did she just ruin the rest of her life by the utterance of that one statement? Would her father see behind the thinly veiled question and realize it wasn’t just a curious inquiry? The damage had been done, and Scootaloo had never been more afraid.

Her father didn’t falter. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t start shouting. He didn’t kick her out on the street to fend for herself. He didn’t even blink. A smile grew across his face and he pulled his daughter into a warm hug.

“Then I will love you all the same. You’re still my daughter.”

Scootaloo hugged back in silence. There were a lot of confusing feelings inside of her, but at least this was one less thing she had to worry about. She felt surprisingly lighter, a great weight she didn’t even know was there suddenly lifted. Her father loved her, and everything would be back to normal. She shrunk back to the bed, retreating from the hug. A nervous smile stretched across her face, even as a hoof tenderly ruffled her mane. No further questions came to mind.

“Good. Your mother and I have to go talk. We decided to end the trip early, since she was so worried about you.” He trailed off and chuckled. “After tonight, I think we can all forget this ever happened. Before you go to sleep, you… might want to take a bath.” He kissed her head, and ruffled her mane again before returning to his wife, the door closing behind him. Scootaloo simply laid in bed. There was a lot of information to take in. A lot of things to consider

Despite being overwhelmed with new information, one image kept floating back into her mind. The image of Sweetie Belle, her friend. Except, thinking of her as a friend didn’t feel right. She wanted it to be more. Yes, that was right. Scootaloo felt like she wanted to spend time with Sweetie alone.. Almost on instinct, a hoof wandered down. Past her stomach, grazing over the warm fur, until it hit its mark. Or rather, her mark. A soft gasp escaped her mouth as her father’s voice echoed in her ear; ‘Every grown-up at some point in their lives does it. Except… usually, we use our hooves, not pillows.’

The hoof made small circles around her privates. Acting solely on instinct rather than actually knowing what to do, she pressed it into her small folds, spreading them slightly, revealing the pink flesh underneath. Her head tossed and turned, eventually finding a place in a pillow once again. Why did that feel so good? This is like, a million times better than a pillow! Oh gosh!

Her pace increased, and with it, her lust. This time, she knew what to expect at the end, fueling her desire to go even faster. Fast was good. Rainbow Dash liked fast. Scootaloo vaguely wondered if Rainbow Dash ever did this. I bet she can finish in ten seconds flat!

Dad had said that every grown-up did it. But what about fillies and colts? Did Apple Bloom do it? Did… did Sweetie do it, too? Thoughts of Sweetie Belle, spread eagle on her bed with a hoof between her legs furiously rubbing away clouded her mind. It made her even warmer down there. It made her forehead sweat. Nothing else seemed to matter other than that image. Scootaloo had to bury her face in the pillow just to keep from making too much noise as she crawled closer to finishing.

The hoof dug into her youthful entrance. A thick, slimy liquid started to coat her fur, but she didn’t care. What mattered was driving herself to that… that peak. Her body screamed for release. Her hoof, now nearly coated, had started to make a ‘shllop shllop shllop’ sound. She was almost certain that if someone listened hard enough they would hear, but the thought was pushed to the back of her mind. She watched with a half-lidded eye as her blanket moved up and down, the hoof underneath rubbing furiously and erratically. Another quiet squeal escaped her lips, but she knew she had to do something to keep herself silent.

Flipping onto her stomach, she raised her flank while keeping her head pressed into the pillow. Her rear legs were positioned at a wide angle so that her hoof could make its way between them, and she started to rub again. She found that, with her new position, she was able to reach it in a different way. There was a certain area that felt even more amazing by comparison when rubbed. This was something she hadn’t noticed with the pillow before.

Her filly parts had become reddened and swollen, the friction from her hoof aided by the large amount of lubrication her body was supplying. As her hoof attacked that particular spot, she found a small nub. Her mind instantly went into a frenzy, and she arched her back.

“Oh my goooosssssshhh!” She hissed, panting both from shock and physical exertion. Slow and firm, she pressed her hoof there again, then quickly removed it. It felt like she had tapped at the center of everything she was feeling and oh boy did it feel good. Her hoof quickly fell into rapid, rhythmic rubbing and she bit down on her pillow as everything came crashing down at once. Even her body gave way, the pegasus finding herself on her side. Her legs folded around her hoof like a vice, keeping it in place as she once again began her desperate rubbing. The feeling was like a million hooves giving her the world’s greatest massage. No, it was better.

Tongue hanging loosely from her mouth, she began to buck her hips in unison with her hoof. Eyes firmly shut, she felt the epic conclusion coming a mile away. It caused her to cry with pleasure and her small body to jerk. Her hoof and inner thighs were immediately coated in more of the slimy fluid as she rode her way through the second orgasm of her life.

An exhausted and extremely satisfied Scootaloo lay on her bed, panting heavily. Her hoof, inner thighs, and even some parts of her bedsheets were soaked. She made a contented smile and fought with fatigue as she sat up. This time, she wasn’t going to let herself sleep just yet.

She moved to the door quickly, walking awkwardly on account of the soaked fur on her thighs. A quick peek to the outside hall revealed that her parents had either gone to bed, or were downstairs.

Without a second to waste, she bolted as quietly as she could to the bathroom, and closed the door once she had flicked on the lights. Seeing herself for the first time in the mirror that night, she turned around and got a look at herself.

Her fur was obviously wet and not a little sticky. Her privates, which had once been hidden behind her fur and tail, was enlarged and exposed. It still appeared to be dripping a little. She lifted her hoof now, gazing down at the liquids mixed into her fur. It smelled kinda funny. A smell that made her nose wrinkle and her body tingle. Maybe it tasted the same? That’s gross! You’re not supposed to taste it! Right? Maybe just a lick? No one has to know, right?

Her tongue stretched from her mouth and dragged across the hoof. It tasted better than it smelled. She vaguely thought about how Sweetie tasted just as she heard hooves coming up the stairs again, and immediately sprung to action, making herself busy with preparing the bath. The hooves approached the bathroom, stopped for a moment, then continued down the hall. She was safe.

The water was warm and relaxing. Scootaloo, who was now lowering herself into the bath, made a loud sigh of relief; her tense muscles relaxing nearly immediately. All of the stress of her day, her embarrassment of being caught in the act (or rather, after it), and the confusion for all the information she had learned washed away. She let her head droop briefly, feeling the water surround her ears and eyes, and listened to the pure nothing. It was soothing. As she washed away her worries as well as sweat and bodily fluids, she thought about the day ahead. There would be breakfast waiting for her, probably an awkward glance from her mother, but everything would be normal. School wouldn’t be anything special; there would be lots of homework, likely a scolding for not getting today’s work done… but she would get to see Sweetie. That would be worth it.

Later that night, wrapped in her warm blanket, her fur damp and poofy, Scootaloo dreamt about hooves, pillows, and of Sweetie Belle. The next morning, she awoke to discover just what a ‘wet dream’ was - and to replace her sheets.

The Schoolgirl Crush

That morning, Scootaloo got exactly what she had expected.

“Hurry up! Eat your breakfast! Get your saddlebags! Don’t forget your lunch. Did you do your homework? Oh for Celestia’s Sake, Scootaloo. Get moving, Missy!”

“Ugh,” seemed a pretty appropriate answer to everything. A grunt and a nod. She moved from room to room begrudgingly, taking her sweet old time, much to the frustration of her mother, who was rushing her out the door.

“It’s a good thing your father and I came home last night.” She paused for a second, shaking off a thought, “I doubt you even would have gotten up in time. You’re such a hassle in the mornings.”

“But I’m a big pony! I can take care of myself, Mom!” She whined, bracing herself as her mother stuck a brush halfway through her mane to aggressively tug through a few knots. Her mother simply clucked her tongue impatiently as she returned the brush to its place on a table.

“Now, now. Don’t you want to look pretty for the colts at school?” Her mother tried to ease a nervous smile. Clearly, she was trying to adjust to what had happened. To last night. Her father had said that Scootaloo was ‘going through changes,’ and becoming more like a grown-up every day. Was this her mother trying to accept it? She never made comments about colts before. Why would she care about colts, anyway?

Scootaloo’s father, sitting at the table with the daily newspaper, flashed his daughter an apologetic smile as she simply stared at her mother with a deadpan expression. Was she serious?

“Ugh, Mom. You’re so lame.” She rolled her eyes and turned to the door, walking outside and down the small path that lead through the miniature vegetable garden her mother had been meaning to tend to for three years. ‘I’ll do it next week, I promise. I’ve just been so busy lately.’

“Scootaloo, this is the third time that you’ve come to school late, and with unfinished homework. And to think; you used to be one of my star pupils. What happened?” Cheerilee leaned in, her face serious and deadly. It was a face that all young ponies still in school feared. The ‘You’re-in-big-trouble-and-I’m-going-to-meet-with-your-parents’ face.

The ground seemed amazingly interesting at this point. Scootaloo felt nothing but disinterest. From the crack in the doorway of the teacher’s office, she could see the other ponies in the classroom, whispering and giggling amongst each other. She saw her usual seat: so close, yet so far away. Next to it was an empty seat where Apple Bloom normally sat, apparently absent for the day’s lesson, free from any humiliating lecture or threat of detention ‘For the third time this week! What’s gotten into you?’. She also saw Sweetie Belle, and for some reason, her heart leapt in her chest. A cold pit grew in her stomach.

“Scootaloo! Are you even listening? I’m telling you that if you don’t start paying attention in class, showing up on time, and doing your homework, I’m going to have to have a meeting with your parents. Do you understand?”

There it was. She wrote off a check mark on an invisible list in her head. Exactly as she expected.

“Yessum,” was all she replied, half paying attention to Miss Cheerilee, half to Sweetie Belle, who was sitting, prim and proper, with her hooves folded in front of her. An imaginary tune seemed to play in her head, and she bobbed along as if in a daydream.

“Then head on in. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving. Don’t make me issue another detention, young lady.”

“Yessum,” was Scootaloo’s reply again, uncaring and distant as she slithered out of the room, catching an exasperated sigh from the teacher. Within seconds she was in her seat, unwilling to be the center of a dozen eyes staring straight at her for long. Each and every one of them secretly pitied her, thankful it was her getting in trouble, and not them.

She found her usual seat across from Sweetie, and opened her books. As soon as she was sure it was safe, and Cheerilee had begun the lesson, she leaned in to whisper,

“Psst. Where’s Bloom?”

“Home sick,” was the reply. “Got the flu. Bad. Poor girl.” Sweetie looked down at her desk sadly.

“She’ll pull through. She’s a Crusader, she’s tough!” This seemed to encourage Sweetie, who brightened up and nodded, smiling. It made Scootaloo feel good. Her stomach did a little flip, and she winced. Thankfully, Sweetie didn’t notice.

She tried to focus on schoolwork, channeling all of her attention, but it was hard. She kept finding herself drawn to looking at her friend. Was her coat always that shiny? Surely, her overbearing sister made her brush every day, but did it always give off such an alluring glow? Scootaloo straightened her head and locked her eyes to the front of class again, general interest in trying not to upset her teacher any further overtaking her. But why was it so hard?

The morning proceeded in a similar fashion. Scootaloo would remain transfixed to Cherilee; to the lesson. Then something would flash or twinkle out of the corner of her eye, and her gaze would turn elsewhere. Then, as if knowing its destination all along, her eyes would be drawn to Sweetie. Once or twice she would catch her gaze, and Scootaloo’s head would snap back to the front of class, cheeks burning. It went on like this for a few hours. She was just starting to ponder the reason she felt so strange around Sweetie Belle all of a sudden when her teacher’s voice caught her attention.

“Scootaloo, I ask again. What is the square root of sixteen? If you’ve been paying attention, this would be easy.”

A dozen or so eyes were glued to her, a few ponies giggling. Scootaloo gulped. She didn’t know. She was screwed. The vision of her not-too-distant future echoed in her head of neverending detention, being held back a grade, and no friends for a whole month.

“Four,” Sweetie mouthed wordlessly. Scootaloo didn’t even dare look at her for the time being, clearing her throat.

“Four.”

Cherilee actually smiled, and nodded.

“Correct. Thank you, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo finally took the chance to look back at her saviour thankfully. Sweetie simply gave a humble nod just as their teacher began to wrap up the math class.

“And when we get back from lunch break, we’re going to learn about the Equestrian Justice System! Won’t that be fun?” A series of groans passed around the classroom as Scootaloo tossed her books aside and grabbed her lunch.

“Ready, Sweetie?”

“Yeah, just one sec. I’m finishing up.” She was still copying down a few notes.

“Go on ahead, Scoots.” But Scootaloo didn’t hear her, as she was too busy staring. She remembered the night before, when she had been thoroughly engaged in her ‘activities’, of the image her mind had drawn of Sweetie Belle touching herself. Scootaloo blushed like mad. Her wings shuffled, but she couldn’t stop staring at Sweetie. At her glowing white coat, her perfect posture, her amazing, curved, blank--

“...You okay?” Sweetie repeated, a worried expression written across her face. Scootaloo jumped.

“Fine. Just swell. No problems here!” This drew a giggle from the other filly.

“Oh Scoots, you’re so silly.” She remarked, packing up her books and grabbing her lunch at last.

“Y-you think so?”

“Yeah! I mean, a cutie mark isn’t going to appear out of nowhere just because I’m studying really hard. Rarity promised to take me to Manehattan with her if I did good on the next test.”

Scootaloo was about to correct her on the absurdity of a studying cutie mark, but she decided it was in her best interest to shut her trap.

“Uh, right. My bad.”

As they situated themselves around the usual tree, the Cutie Mark Crusaders Minus One unpacked their lunch in an unusual silence. Sweetie had her favorite: a daisy and tulip sandwich. Scootaloo was eating peanut butter and jelly. Neither said a word for a good couple of minutes.

“So, uh… thanks. For, you know, bailing me out. That was pretty cool,” Scootaloo suddenly mumbled quietly.

“Huh? Oh, that was nothing, Scoots. We’re friends, and friends stick out for each other!” Sweetie piped up happily. This caused Scootaloo to bite her lower lip. That feeling had returned to her stomach again. It was like a million tiny insects gnawing at her. She remembered once, when being so nervous about an upcoming test, that her father had explained it as ‘Butterflies in your tummy. It’s just natural.’

Unfortunately, Sweetie noticed. Leaning in, a look of concern spread across her face.

“Hey, are you alright? You don’t look so good…”

“F-fine…” was the reply. She wasn’t. Scootaloo was a terrible liar. Sweetie was at her side in an instant.

“Seriously, Scootaloo. You don’t look so well. Are you sure it’s not the flu?” A slow, sad shake of the head was the response.

“Headache?” No, that wasn’t it.

“Are you sad?”

Scootaloo faltered. Was she? At the bottom of everything she was feeling, was it sadness? It didn’t really feel that way. Her eyes met Sweetie, who took it as yes. She was immediately swept up in a crushing hug. She was strong for a pony her size. It made Scootaloo blush even more. But it felt good. She hugged back as casually as possible, even daring a little nuzzle to the ear. She got one on the cheek in return, making her stomach do flips.

Sweetie drew back, wearing a comforting expression.

“Better?”

Scootaloo nodded. In the light of the afternoon sun, Sweetie looked awfully pretty.

Pretty enough to kiss, she thought, thinking back.

It had been last summer, during camp week. All the young ponies in town had gone, except Apple Bloom, due to the rapidly approaching harvest. So Scootaloo and Sweetie had spent the week together, the first time truly alone since befriending Apple Bloom. On the last day, after the lights were out and campfire songs had been sung, they snuck out to the dock and looked out at the starlit water – and they kissed.

But ever since then, nothing had come of it. It had been an experiment, that was all. Sweetie Belle had asked her to, and Scootaloo, thinking nothing of it, obliged. For cutie marks or something. She couldn’t even remember the reason, but she certainly hadn’t forgotten the kiss. She did remember thinking of how absurd it was to kiss another filly. She couldn’t possibly like it. That was weird. Right?

So why, huddled under their sacred tree, in the middle of the schoolyard full of their peers, did Scootaloo suddenly lean forward and kiss Sweetie Belle’s cheek?

Sweetie Belle sat there for a long time. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks, not unlike Scootaloo’s, were beet red. No one dared say a word.

“I-I have to go. Um...do schoolwork. See you!” Sweetie stammered, finally breaking the silence as she got to her hooves and bolted to the schoolhouse.

Moments later, the school bell rang. It was almost angelic: her saving grace. Yet at the same time it was like a deathly summons to her doom. She trudged regretfully to the schoolroom and sat down, avoiding all eye contact. It didn’t seem like anyone had seen the peck on the cheek. She didn’t even look at Sweetie Belle, afraid of the judgement that lay behind her eyes. A conversation started to play through her mind.
How could you, Scootaloo! It...it was just a thing we did last summer! An experiment! I’m not into fillies! You should be ashamed! It’s not right! It’s gross! How could you do that in front of everyone? Don’t you know what they’ll say? Ugh, you’re so weird, Scootaloo. I don’t think we should be friends anymore.

Tears started to well up in her eyes, but she hid them, casually bringing out her books and opening them so she could have a chance to nonchalantly wipe a hoof across her eyes. She was weird, thinking of Sweetie like that. Why did she kiss her? That was so stupid.

As her book opened, a note fell out, rolled across her desk, and bounced to the floor. As Scootaloo bent to pick it up, she could have sworn she caught Sweetie’s sideways glance, but she couldn’t be certain. Confused, she unraveled the neatly folded paper and read it from underneath her desk, where it couldn’t be seen by wandering eyes. She was at least well-versed in the art of note-passing.

It read:

Scootaloo,

I’m really sorry for running away like that. I was really scared.

Let’s meet at the clubhouse later.

Signed,

Sweetie Belle

True to Sweetie’s style, it even included a few hoof-drawn hearts at the bottom. It seemed like she had taken extra care in making them, but maybe it was just Scootaloo’s imagination. Hope filled her, while doubt also gnawed at her, as she folded the note and tucked it away.

She didn’t look at Sweetie for the rest of class.

Meet Me At The Clubhouse

On most days, the renovated clubhouse on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres was Scootaloo’s favorite place in the world.

The paint and decor were childish and nostalgic. It had a woody smell, on account of being both surrounded by apple trees and built from fresh wood harvested on this very farm. To Scootaloo, it was homey.

But today, the sun lowering just beyond the purple horizon painted behind the Clubhouse, as she rode up on her scooter, she was dreading it. There was no telling what would happen now.

The clubhouse grew larger and larger until she approached the ramp. Apple Bloom had built it herself. It was sturdy: easily capable of handling several fully-grown ponies at once. It was also capable of being retracted to the top of the clubhouse with some rope and a pulley system that Apple Bloom designed. Scootaloo envied her craftsmanship.

She trudged slowly up that same ramp, for the first time wishing it wasn’t sturdy or capable of handling Two Big Macs, as Apple Bloom had put it. She wished it would collapse, and then she wouldn’t be able to reach the clubhouse. Then she wouldn’t have to face Sweetie.

But it didn’t. It held strong.

“There you are!” Sweetie called cheerfully. Why did she always sound so happy? It was almost infuriating. Yet Scootaloo couldn’t be mad.

“Yeah, sorry. Had to, uh… get something from home. Got sidetracked.” She tried to shrug nonchalantly as she entered the brightly lit room. From the doorway, she could see the corner where she had been putting up crudely drawn pictures of Rainbow Dash. There was the dull notion to draw Sweetie Belle instead, but she pushed it away.

“So…” Sweetie began. Scootaloo gulped, and looked at the floor, crossing one forehoof over the other. Sweetie's face appeared to be deep in thought, lost in her own little world. A moment ago the other filly had been confident and sure of herself as she greeted Scootaloo at the door. Now she seemed torn between acting on something, or simply standing there.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, more of a statement than a question.

“You shouldn’t have done that in front of everyone, Scootaloo. I was kind of afraid of them seeing. I’m just not sure I want them to know yet...” She trailed off. Scootaloo found herself thinking ‘Know what?’ but Sweetie kept talking, cutting off her thought process.

“If you wanted to kiss me again, you should have just asked. Let’s do it in private, okay?”

Scootaloo could not believe what she had just heard. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. Was this really happening?

“It’s okay, Scoots. I-I don’t mind.” Sweetie pawed at the floor herself, for the most part avoiding eye contact, her ears flat.

Scootaloo still didn’t know what to say. She found herself wracking her brain for words, stammering out a few incoherent sentences. This appeared to amuse Sweetie, as she approached Scootaloo with a giggle, and pecked her on the cheek.

“That’s for earlier,” She whispered.

Scootaloo’s cheeks and ears quickly became very hot.

“Yes.” She finally managed. “I w-would like that very much.” She offered a small smile at the other, who returned the expression as the pair sat awkwardly for about a minute until Sweetie cleared her throat.

“Well?” At this, Scootaloo snapped to attention, realizing she had been staring again and that the kiss probably wouldn’t start itself. Her lips suddenly seemed very dry as she inched a little closer. So did Sweetie. Sweat dripped down Scootaloo’s forehead. Sweetie inched forward again.

The other filly was now so close she could smell her perfume, overpowering and eye-watering, as if she had doused herself before leaving.. Wait. She’s wearing perfume? Oh Celestia! The smell was intoxicating. Scootaloo found herself taking a big sniff. She must have borrowed it from Rarity. That was it. Was this the smell of a mare? She could get used to a smell like that. A light went off in her brain, and she refocused herself on Sweetie, cutting off her train of thought.

The pure white coat still gave off that glow. Her mane appeared to have been recently brushed, despite the curls. Scootaloo liked the curls. They looked pretty. Warm breath was now bearing down on her face, and she snapped out of her daydream.

Their eyes met, muzzles inches away from each other. Scootaloo’s heart pounded and she was certain that Sweetie could hear it. There was no way something that loud couldn’t be heard within the immediate ten foot vicinity. She wanted to close the distance, to lean forward, but a part of her faltered. A lump grew in her throat, and Sweetie saw it. She was about to pull away when Scootaloo shot forward, preventing her, which earned a startled gasp.

Their lips were now locked and Scootaloo felt like she was on top of the world, flying high through a cool summer’s breeze as she gazed down at the world below, past fluffy clouds, over a shimmering lake. Her eyes shut firmly, and so did Sweetie’s. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Even better than her hoof.

Scootaloo suddenly became aware of a hoof touching hers. It grazed the fur at the base, then moved up her foreleg to her shoulder, gently rubbing back and forth. It sent tingles down her spine. Remembering her experience with the pillow the night before, she gulped. There was something she wanted to try.

Her tongue dared to poke forward ever so slightly. Sweetie felt it across her lips, and actually parted them to grant her access. She was actually letting her do this! Scootaloo’s heart skipped a beat as she tentatively poked it forward, and was met… by Sweetie’s own shy tongue. The world around them no longer mattered. The smells of fresh wood and apples had become drowned out by the enticing smell of perfume. The sound of the wind blowing through trees was utterly unimportant next to the sound of Sweetie’s breath, her gentle heartbeat, and occasional squeak.

Inquisitively, Scootaloo reached out her hoof and, following the same path on Sweetie that she had on her, trailed a hoof up her foreleg. Except, she went further, draping it around Sweetie’s back and gently tugging her down to sit prone, pressed against Scootaloo. The hoof traveled up and down, feeling the curvature of her spine, the warmth of her fur, and the occasional shiver.

The little, curious tongue had started slithering around Scootaloo’s, poking and prodding, until gently pressing it back. Scootaloo obliged, finding her mouth suddenly invaded by the alien muscle which lapped around. Getting an idea, the pegasus gently coaxed it back, until it was far enough in, and then --

Sweetie let out a startled, but not unhappy, gasp as her tongue was suckled. This didn’t even phase Scootaloo, who then began to nibble it with her teeth. The taste was surreal. Sweetie didn’t struggle. A soft giggle even rose up from her throat, causing her muzzle to vibrate a little. As she caressed it, Scootaloo began to make a private registry in her mind, to save for later, of how she tasted: sweet, which she had practically already expected, like candy. But only the most expensive and the most delicious of candies. Salty, with a hint of a slight flowery taste. This close to her face, Scootaloo could also practically taste Rarity’s perfume. It was pungent and strong, likely something exotic that Rarity had had delivered from some faraway place, hidden in an expensive bottle. She recalled seeing them in Rarity’s bedroom once. Her own mother only ever used cheap perfume: she was a practical mare. Scootaloo secretly decided she liked mares who wore nice perfume, without really knowing why that was important information to store.

Sweetie’s hoof had began to travel up the front of Scootaloo’s chest, sending all different kinds of new tingles through her body. The kiss lasted a short few seconds, no short amount of saliva shared, before the hoof was used as leverage to gently pull away, a trail of saliva breaking between them. For a short second, Scootaloo’s mouth hung agape, dripping tongue extended in sheer confusion from what had just happened. She quickly rolled up her tongue and snapped her maw shut before any flies got in.

“W-wow, Scootaloo…” Sweetie muttered. “That...that was nothing like last time. Wow.”

Scootaloo knew that was good. She simply nodded.

“Listen, I-I’ve gotta go, Scoots. See you at school tomorrow.” Sweetie sputtered. She was out the door and down the ramp in a heartbeat.

Scootaloo sat motionless for a long time, dazed and confused. Why did kissing another filly feel so good? Why did Sweetie run away again? The first time made sense, but now she wasn’t so sure. Most of all, why was she wet? Her gaze wandered down between her legs. Sure enough, that place she had touched with her hoof and all the fur around her crotch was slightly damp. This only served to confuse her more.

Her hoof met where her gaze was, and another shiver immediately went down her spine.

“Nng!” She groaned, biting her lip. She knew what she needed to do.

Propping herself up in her favorite corner, slumped against the wall on a tiny pillow, Scootaloo recalled the smell, taste and feel of Sweetie Belle as she masturbated. Her hoof prodded and stroked, and she immediately was met with a new smell to add to her collection that she hadn’t noticed before: the smell of herself. Or, in particular, the smell of down there whenever she touched it. It was a thick, musky smell, one that filled her nostrils. Like a perfume that cost a million bits. She tilted her nose and smelled the air.

Within minutes, she was delivered to home base, crying out to the empty clubhouse, her hoof becoming drenched as thoughts of her wet, sloppy kiss with Sweetie Belle filled her mind. She collapsed, and after 10 minutes of panting, the first thing that came to mind was What’s happening to me? Sweetie is a filly! Fillies don’t kiss fillies! Ewww!

Author's Note

The most sensual chapter yet. What will become of them now? Will Scootaloo realize her feelings for Sweetie Belle? Stay tuned!

Pajama Party

The rest of the week went uneventfully enough. The day following the secretive kiss, Apple Bloom was at school once again. Despite everything, neither Sweetie Belle nor Scootaloo gave each other more than an awkward glance, or casual ‘Hello’s. Apple Bloom found herself talking mainly to herself during lunch.

As the week went by, the tension between the two fillies nearly lifted, and everything was almost as it was before.

Soon, Friday came. In the late afternoon, the Cutie Mark Crusaders gathered around the clubhouse, devising a way to earn their cutie marks as they usually did. The room was brightly lit, painted with innocent, childish decor. It was as it always was, save for one exception: an extra large cot in the middle of the room that Big Mac had dragged from the farmhouse, for the slumber party which they were engaged in now.

The late afternoon turned to evening, which in turn fell to twilight, and the Crusaders exhausted every last one of their ideas in and around the clubhouse. They tried silly girly things that they didn’t want to do anyway, like ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Ballet Dancers!’, which had, of course, been all Sweetie’s idea. They tried outlandish ideas, ‘Roof-jumping cutie marks, anyone?’ which only ended in near-disaster. They even tried poem-writing. None of these worked.

At last, the world around them became darkened and black, lit only by the light of the moon, and a lamp next to the cot. The Crusaders all sat around it, pondering more ideas as a cold breeze blew through the center of the uninsulated clubhouse, causing all three to simultaneously shiver.

“Brr...ah think it’s about time to get into our PJs. Now I understand why Applejack made us have a pajama party instead of a plain old sleepover. It’s cold!” Apple Bloom whined, still rubbing a shoulder, which was sore from an earlier fall from the rooftop to the sturdy ramp.

Sweetie Belle nodded, hopping off the bed, opening her saddlebags and pulling out a pink nightgown Rarity had made. It was frilly and warm looking, tufts of fuzz all around the collar and leg openings. She quickly wiggled her way into it.

“It’s a good thing, too! Otherwise we’d freeze!” She agreed, head poking out the top just as Apple Bloom pulled on a set of second hand pajamas - a shirt and pant combo her sister had likely once worn, green and emblazoned with apples all over. Sweetie glanced at Scootaloo.

“Aren’t you going to put your PJs on, Scootaloo? Did you remember to bring them?”

“Yeah, but…I ruined my Wonderbolts ones, and all I have are these ones that my mom bought…” She trailed off.

“Oh? I bet they’re awesome! Let’s see!” Sweetie chimed. Another breeze, much stronger this time, blew through the clubhouse. Anyone who wasn’t wearing clothing shivered intensely.

“No, they’re like, for little foals! Brr!” She paused, defeat ringing through her voice. “Fine, I’ll put them on!” Begrudgingly, the filly hopped off the bed and made her way to her own saddlebags. For several minutes, blocked from view to the other two by the large cot, she busied herself with getting dressed. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom cast nervous glances to each other.

When Scootaloo finally emerged, Apple Bloom had to strain to withhold her laughter. Her pajamas, while thick and comfortable looking, were full-body, right down to the hooves. They were bright, sky-blue, with clouds all around. A zipper ran from the neck down. Scootaloo simply blushed, looking away as she fumbled with her hooves from inside the clothing.

“Aww! They look cute, Scoot!” Sweetie remarked, trotting up to feel the fabric of her hoofie pajamas.

“Y-yeah Scoots! Y’all look...a-adorable! Hahaha!” Apple Bloom suddenly fell over laughing raucously. It was Scootaloo’s first instinct to advance and tell her just what she thought, but Sweetie suddenly put a hoof on Scootaloo’s chest, stopping her. For some reason, it worked. The anger stopped flooding through her and her blood pressure stopped rising. She let out a sigh, looking down at Sweetie.

“D-do you really think I look cute? A good kinda cute, right?” She whispered, too low for the earth pony to hear. Sweetie Belle gave her a broad smile, nodding.

“I bet they’re really warm, Scoots. You don’t have to feel embarrassed. You look nice.” Sweetie comforted. This caused Scootaloo to blush, and she shifted from hoof to hoof, casting a glare at Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, whatever.” Scootaloo declared, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Her chest puffed up and she flicked her tail. Sweetie giggled while Apple Bloom, finally recomposed, simply rolled her eyes.

“If ya say so, Scoots.” Apple Bloom stifled a yawn, staggering slightly. “Ah think I’m gonna get into bed. It’s awfully late…” She hopped up onto the bed, folding back the covers with her teeth. Sweetie followed not long after, choosing the opposite side of the big cot, leaving a wide space in the middle for Scootaloo, who reluctantly crawled into it. She wasn’t really tired - not yet anyway - and could easily spend a good few more hours crusading, but her friends seemed intent on sleep.

The bed was certainly warm and inviting. As she wiggled her hooves under the big quilt, she couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of security. Apple Bloom was leaning over the lamp, and in a moment the room was shrouded by darkness. Figures and silhouettes slowly started adjusting in Scootaloo’s vision, and she stared at the ceiling, wide awake.

It didn’t take long before a loud snore could be heard to her right. She looked over to see Apple Bloom, her back to the rest of the bed’s occupants. Scootaloo couldn’t help but roll her eyes silently, focusing her attention upwards again. Her thoughts wandered to the pony on the other side of her. Chancing a peek, she saw Sweetie Belle, seemingly fast asleep, on her side and facing away. Her forehooves were drawn up to her chest, curled neatly over the blanket - she looked peaceful

As Scootaloo was busy admiring her, another breeze ran through the room. She was, of course, unphased because of the thick pajamas she had previously been humiliated about wearing. For once, she found herself thankful that her mother had bought them. Sweetie, however, shivered heavily. It appeared like her nightgown didn’t offer much for warmth.

Scootaloo winced. She always hated to see friends suffer, but this was different. Her protective instincts kicked in, and she felt like she had to do something. But what? An idea came to her, and she immediately shook it away. No, there was no way she was doing that. That was too sappy. With another filly? Nuh-uh.

She knew from survival classes she had taken at camp that the best way to warm up another pony was by using your own body heat. It made sense, and now that she looked at Sweetie, who had shrunk and curled herself into a ball as she shivered gently, Scootaloo couldn’t bear to see it. She tried to tell herself she’d do it for anypony. But would she even consider the prospect if it hadn’t been the filly she had been eyeing all week shivering from the cold in front of her?

In fact, since the kiss they had shared, Scootaloo had had a lot of time to think about things. At first, she was unusually shy around Sweetie at school, but it faded within a few days, pretending like things were back to their same old rhythm. But that wasn’t true. That feeling in her stomach, the one that gripped her heart and drove her to a cold sweat, had gotten worse around Sweetie. Maybe this was one of those ‘growing up’ things she had been told about?

She bit her lip, eyes locked on Sweetie’s back. She had to be honest: the idea, however intimidating, was tempting. She couldn’t let her just shiver there. Besides, the cold would make a good cover for what she really wanted, but scarcely was able to admit: simply to cuddle. How could she be so sappy? Rainbow Dash would have a field day on her levels of uncoolness here.

She could just sneak up and put a hoof around Sweetie. Just hug her for like, a minute or two. Enough to warm up the shivering filly. Nopony, not even Sweetie (who was likely fast asleep) would know. It was foolproof. Okay...okay, I’m gonna do this.

She cast a nervous glance behind her - Apple Bloom was a heavy sleeper, there was no way she would notice - and crawled forward silently. The blankets rustled as she inched and scooted her way up to Sweetie Belle.

She was directly behind her now, muzzle inches from the back of her head. She bit her lip to stop from making any noise, as the position forced herself to be close to Sweetie’s twitching ear as well. Sweetie’s shivering hadn’t decreased, and it worried Scootaloo enough to give her the extra motivation to take the next step. A slow, cautious hoof, wrapped in her warm Hoofie Pajamas, slipped around the surprisingly warm belly of Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo was unmistakably embracing her now, heart doing little leaps and bounds.

The position was far more comfortable than one without previous experience could imagine. Sweetie was like a living, breathing fluffy pillow, except better. Her fur was warm and inviting, carrying the scent of lilacs mixed with an earthy, outdoorsy smell. It was a mixture of scents that brought to mind a pony who was prissy and clean, but also valued being able to play in the mud every once in a while. Just like Sweetie.

Scootaloo supposed Sweetie hadn’t really noticed her position yet, having barely even made a stir, yet her shivering stopped altogether. Scootaloo smiled. Mission Accomplished, she thought. As soundless as ever, she tilted her head forward and dared to press her muzzle to Sweetie’s neck and nuzzle it ever so slightly, taking a good whiff of her mane. It smelled like roses and cotton candy.

At this point, Scootaloo didn’t really understand anything she was doing, but she didn’t really care. It all felt so wonderful to her. As Sweetie slept motionlessly, sharing in the warmth of Scootaloo’s admittedly awesome nightwear, the pegasus let out a deep sigh. Her thoughts were happier now. Nothing could make her sad, being curled up so close to the filly that made her feel so strange. As funny as those feelings were, they felt right. Should she be feeling this for a filly?

No… Scootaloo thought dismally. This isn’t right… fillies don’t do this together. I’m not supposed to be doing this. I should stop, before she wakes up! This, and a dozen other thoughts of doubt clawed at her, but she made no attempt to move. Nothing would pry her from her comfortable position. She closed her eyes and nuzzled Sweetie’s neck again. It was so warm; her fur so soft. Scootaloo had thoughts of pure bliss as her hoof began to move, rubbing the unicorn’s stomach gently.

Moments of happiness passed. In Scootaloo’s mind, it was the best few minutes ever. Sleep simply wouldn’t come to her, no matter how hard she tried. Those thoughts of doubt always came back when she was close to sleep.

An eye opened, and she blinked as everything started to adjust to her vision again. Once everything was relatively clear, she recognized the great big pearl staring right in front of her.

It was Sweetie’s eye. She was awake.

Scootaloo’s first instinct was to pull away and run, but a quick and firm hoof placed itself on hers, and Sweetie smiled. She gave the hoof a squeeze, and suddenly, through the expression and actions, Scootaloo understood everything Sweetie was trying to say. She was telling her to stay. Not to leave.

How could Scootaloo say no to that?

The two stayed like that for a long time. Neither dared to move more than their heads, but their eyes remained locked, hooves clasping each others’ in front of Sweetie. At some point Scootaloo became conscious of the fact that Sweetie felt a lot warmer. Did she still need to be like this? Now that she’d done her duty, what made her stay, hooves wrapped around her friend?

Her doubts were washed away when she saw Sweetie shift forward, lifting herself up, and, in what felt like an instant, press her lips to Scootaloo’s. No tongue was shared this time. No spark lit between them. It was barely long enough to remember what it felt like. Her lips simple grazed over Scootaloo’s, their muzzles pressed together suddenly, and that was it. Nothing more.

That accomplished, Sweetie whispered a quiet ‘Good night’, and turned back around, laying her head on her pillow. It was several minutes before Scootaloo broke from her daze and laid down herself. One forehoof was used to embrace the other filly, squeezing lightly, and the other was resting under the crook of her neck, completing a sleepy and unintrusive hug.

It was all so surreal, as if it wasn’t really happening. Fortunately for her, it was. Responding with a similar whisper of ‘good night.’, she nuzzled her friends cheek and tried to close her eyes with her muzzle buried in her friends fur. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook her, joining her two friends. She didn’t dream much, and her sleep was light, but it was the best night she could ever remember having.

Author's Note

What will happen with their budding relationship next? Will Scootaloo finally accept herself? What will happen if Apple Bloom finds out?
And most importantly: how adorable is Scootaloo wearing Hoofie Pajamas?

Basket Case

As the sun stretched over the thin horizon and filled the small clubhouse with light, Scootaloo was sleeping more comfortably than she had in ages. Her hooves were wrapped around another filly in front of her, sleeping equally as sound. Scootaloo’s dreams were filled with thoughts of cotton candy, marshmallows, and the scent of lilacs.

All at once, the peaceful silence was broken.

“What the hay are you two doin’?” Apple Bloom blurted, her voice filled with bewilderment.

Scootaloo awoke with a start. The first thing she realized was that she was practically bear-hugging Sweetie Belle from behind, her muzzle planted firmly into the back of her head. The second being that she was in a very precarious position to be found in. All at once, memories of last night came flooding back.

Her first instinct was not to pull away, but to stay firmly snuggled into the other filly and pretend Apple Bloom wasn’t there. But when Sweetie woke up, her eyes wide open, everything became real to Scootaloo. She sat up abruptly, snapped her hooves to her sides and attempted an innocent smile, but could only manage to force an awkward grin and to avoid eye contact.

“I… er…” Scootaloo stumbled over her words, trying to find an excuse.

Sweetie Belle, groggily rubbing a hoof over her eyes, yawned and stretched casually, as if nothing was wrong. She glanced at Apple Bloom for a moment, taking her time before giving her a convincing shrug.

“I was really cold, and Scootaloo was warming me up so I wouldn’t freeze. She was just being a good friend.” She stated, matter-of-factly. Apple Bloom actually seemed to buy it! Why hadn’t Scootaloo thought of that? It was so perfect! Sweetie Belle was a quick thinker, and so casual about it, too. She’s so cool!

With the traumatic experience over, they all managed to crawl out of bed, stripping themselves of their nightwear. Some easier than others: Scootaloo found herself with her back on the cold floor, pawing at the zipper in a desperate attempt to get the cursed garment off. She closely resembled a turtle trapped upside-down on it’s shell, unable to achieve the simple task of flipping itself over, rather than the truly awesome and dignified Crusader she was certainly meant to be.

Sweetie let out a quiet giggle and trotted over, using her teeth to pull the zipper down. Scootaloo shivered at the feeling of her touch, feeling Sweetie’s muzzle graze across the fur on her stomach as she trailed down to the bottom of the zipper, located on her lower belly. It felt amazing. Scootaloo closed her eyes for a brief moment and imagined that muzzle nuzzling it’s way down, peppering her with kisses…

She instantly became aware of her wings springing out to her sides with a silent ‘Pomf’, in combination with an uncomfortable heat resonating from between her legs. She bit her lip and tried to focus anywhere else. Ungracefully wriggling out, her task made infinitely harder by her suddenly stiff wings, she jumped to her hooves - quickly realizing that they hadn’t restored proper blood flow yet - and wobbled over, crashing headfirst into Sweetie. Her body seemed to be acting against her in every way imaginable at this point. It was totally not awesome.

“Mrrf. Sorry!” She mumbled. Sweetie simply giggled again, her chest vibrating ever-so slightly. From Scootaloo’s position buried face-first in Sweetie Belle’s side, she could hear the little heart flutter noisily. She quickly tried to recompose herself before Apple Bloom decided to notice.

Avoiding eye contact, Scootaloo assisted in helping her fellow crusaders in cleaning up. Soon enough, everything was how it was before, packed up and put in its proper place. The clubhouse was immaculate. Strapping her saddlebags and plopping her helmet on, Scootaloo headed outside, quickly followed by Sweetie, who pulled her aside.

Hidden from view from the windows, Sweetie narrowed in on her prey, pinning her to a corner of the balcony. Scootaloo’s view of the door was blocked by the filly quickly closing the distance between them, and in the back of her mind, Scootaloo knew they weren’t safe from being spotted: and yet, was she really about to push her away?

Their lips made contact for the fourth time ever, and for once it was Sweetie making the first curious advancement of her tongue. Scootaloo graciously accepted it, slithering her own around it, but Sweetie didn’t stop there, bent on exploring as much of the waiting mouth as she could, her tongue flopping around energetically, tasting her. Scootaloo grinned inwardly at the display of innocence and innate curiosity. Much to her chagrin, it didn’t last long, and Sweetie pulled away slightly.

“That’s for last night,” She whispered, wearing a mischievous grin. She opened her mouth and was about to say something else when a sound from behind her caught both their attentions.

It was Apple Bloom, eyes wide, jaw hanging almost to the floor. She had gasped.

At first, all three were speechless. No one dared to say a word, but a million things ran through Scootaloo’s mind. The primary one being panic. Her fight-or-flight instincts began to kick in, and she chose flight.

Without wasting any time, she pushed past both of her friends, ran down the ramp, grabbed her scooter, and was over the horizon in mere moments. She thought she might have heard someone calling her name from behind her, but she didn’t listen.

She had just been caught kissing another filly. Her life was basically over.

On most days, Ponyville felt like a sanctuary, isolated from the world’s problems and immune to life’s tribulations. It was a place where one always felt at home, surrounded by ponies who cared, and would do anything for you.

But today Scootaloo felt trapped. Like she had nowhere to run.

As she sped through town - through back alleys, the market square, and residential streets - she passed by all of the usual citizens one expected to see on a warm Saturday morning. They all either attempted to greet her warmly or dodged out of the imminent path of the oncoming scooter. They all seemed to wear their usual expressions, clustered in groups and gossiping about current events and the state of the apple harvest. Yet, in her mind, Scootaloo imagined them gossiping about a different topic altogether. A fresh one, that had only become news moments ago. It was one that, while absurd and completely impossible, filled her with fear. Would Apple Bloom tell everyone in Ponyville? How could they possibly already know?

“Hey, look! It’s that filly-fooler!”

“I hear she kissed Rarity’s sister. Scandalous!”

“I bet her parents will have to put her through years of therapy!”

“How disgusting! Doesn’t she know filly-fooling is wrong?”

“Filly-fooler! Filly-fooler!”

“Go home! Nobody wants you!”

The speed of her scooter increased tenfold, fueled by fear and anxiousness. She turned corners, crossed streets, and narrowly escaped collisions more times than she could count for what felt like hours. Tears were streaming down her face, blurring her vision.

In the end, an exhausted, sobbing Scootaloo crashed headfirst into one of the many trees that dotted the local park. She slumped against the trunk, upside down, tail in her face, and continued her bawling. A voice from inside her suggested that she needed to keep quiet, that she didn’t need anyone to come running to her aid, only to chastise her. Another part of her said that she wanted, no, needed the attention. For someone to notice her.

Fortunately, someone did hear. As a mint-coloured unicorn stepped around the tree, a look of concern took hold of the older mare’s face.

“Scootaloo! Are you alright! Oh dear, what happened?” She was promptly swept up by a sympathetic Lyra, who went about checking for bruises as Scootaloo rolled her eyes and nodded slowly, remembering her as a colleague of her father’s.

“I’m f-fine, Miss Heartstrings. Honest.” She sniffled and rubbed her muzzle. Confident that nothing was physically wrong, the mare straightened up.

“Then why are you crying, dear? Did something happen?” She eased Scootaloo onto her hooves and ruffled her mane. The filly bit her lip and stared at the ground.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it…” She began, and was about to turn away when a thought occurred to her. Wasn’t Lyra married to Bon Bon? If Scootaloo was thinking of Sweetie in that way, maybe that meant Lyra might know a thing or two about what she was going through? Maybe she could trust her? Scootaloo quickly made up her mind, desperate for someone to confide her secrets to.

“I...I...I kissed my friend and now I think everyone hates me.” She stuttered, breaking out into full-on weeping. Lyra met her with an embrace and a gentle pat on the back.

“There, there. Heartbreak is never fun for anypony. Why, I remember my first Coltfriend--”

“It wasn’t a colt…” Scootaloo blurted, cutting Lyra off. This caused an immediately different response from the mare who very gently tilted her head back to make eye contact. Scootaloo in turn shifted away and stared at her hooves. Without notice, she began to cry quietly, more tears flooding through, soaking her cheeks. Ugh! Brave ponies don’t cry! Rainbow Dash wouldn’t cry, either! So why do I feel so sad? Aren’t I a brave pony?

“I know what you’re going through,” Lyra whispered, a hoof suddenly bringing itself around the filly’s shoulders. “Let’s go have tea, Scootaloo. We can talk in private...” Lyra gave her best, most convincing smile, which earned a curt nod from the filly.

Lyra and Bon Bon’s house was warm and inviting. The exterior had been decorated with warm, natural colours, while each room on the inside was painted with Green’s and light Purple’s, much like the ponies who lived there.

Bon Bon was away in Canterlot on a business trip, Lyra had explained, and the house was empty and lonely. She was glad for the company, and offered her little guest a multitude of sweets and desserts that would rival even the best that Pinkie could make.

Scootaloo’s mother had always said that the state of one’s house was a sure indication of the state of mind of it’s inhabitants. She always insisted that one could tell quite quickly that if a couples house was in disarray, so, too, was their union.

This house, however, was perfect. It was clean, full of pictures of a smiling couple - in many holding hooves or clinging to a tight embrace, even a few that depicted the two mares locking lips in front of a sunlit horizon or on a beach someplace far away - the sight of which filled Scootaloo with a bizarre sense of envy, to see them so happy together. Everything about the place indicated, as her mother would say, a happy marriage. Was this evidence that two ponies of the same gender could live happily? This didn’t seem wrong, in fact it was quite the opposite. Scootaloo considered the thought for a long time.

In what felt like hours after the incident at the park, Scootaloo found herself staring at the warm green walls and beautiful white tiles of the large kitchen, hooves on the counter, haunches propped up on a stool. The tiles on the floor were pristine: so white, they almost glowed. Mentally, she made a quick comparison to a certain filly who seemed to glow beautifully as the suns rays reflected off her perfect coat. It filled Scootaloo with thoughts of fondness, and her heart swelled, yet she understood very little as to why.

A steaming cup of peppermint tea was placed in front of her, breaking her train of thought. The kind host took a seat directly opposite.

“So let’s start from the beginning, Scootaloo. What exactly happened?”

The strangest thing happened at that moment. Despite fear of being judged, her newly discovered emotions, and the confusion that came with everything that had happened in the last week, Scootaloo told her everything. Even the parts she probably shouldn’t have told, that a filly shouldn’t do, she told anyway. Through the whole retelling, Lyra nodded and listened attentively and non-judgmentally until the very end. When the story concluded, she pulled the squirming filly into a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re a brave filly, you know that? When I was your age, I had no idea…” She reminisced, relinquishing her captive from the tight hold. “It took me years of dating colts I hated to figure it out. I guess in that aspect you're lucky…” The mare trailed off, picking her words carefully.

Outside, in the freshly groomed garden that Lyra attended to each and every afternoon, a crow fluttered and landed on the fence, cawing fruitlessly at a nearby object which had caught its attention. Scootaloo envied that bird and it’s unchallenged freedom. No one ever bothered to question the motivations of a crow. They simply did as they pleased. Her ears perked, and she turned back to Lyra, who had begun speaking again, with a tone that was both gentle and wise in her own way.

“Sweetheart…when we, that’s Bon Bon and I, told everyone, ponies didn’t hate us. No one turned us away or rejected us. We don’t get made fun of every time we go out. It’s just a regular thing that everyone is used to now. You don’t have to be scared of that.”

Scootaloo's breath caught in her throat as she listened with wide eyes full of wonder. This was contrary to everything she had previously believed! Was it possible that she hadn’t really considered the nature of two ponies of the same gender being together before all this started, except in passing? It was certainly true that her sexuality, until recently, had never come into question. So why couldn’t this be contested, too?

“Equestria is a place where ponies are accepted no matter who they are!” Lyra continued, “Your friend Apple Bloom included: I bet she doesn’t care as much as you think she does. She’s probably just a little shocked, and maybe hurt that you didn’t tell her. Have you thought about that?” She finished with a sip of her own hot mug of tea while Scootaloo mulled it over.

“I guess…” She hesitated, “Tell her what?”

“About you and Sweetie, of course! I mean, I’d be hurt if two of my friends started going out and never told me. You are together, aren’t you?”

“W-we’re not dating! Me and Sweetie would never-” Panicking, she shook her head frantically. Surely, they weren’t. They had never even been on a date! This caused Lyra to laugh.

“Oh Celestia, you can’t be serious. Are you sure? Nopony kisses another pony like that unless they like each other. Don’t you like her?” She tilted her head inquisitively.

Scootaloo paused, thinking over the question. She wracked her brain again and again. Did she like Sweetie? Despite all of her feelings towards her in the last few days, she had never actually asked herself that question. All of a sudden, the answer seemed obvious, and she felt ashamed for not knowing it before.

“Yes,” She said, quite simply.

“Then tell her. Ask her to be your special somepony. How could she say no to that?”

Next came the question that had been been nagging at the back of her mind the entire time. The question which had caused her so much grief. The important, weighty question that made even her father tread carefully in responding to. Something she was afraid to know, yet knew the answer. She just needed to hear it out loud.

“Isn’t it wrong...b-because we’re both girls?” She blinked, her voice shaky. Lyra didn’t falter for even a second.

“What do you think?”

“...No. A-am I a filly-fooler now?”

“You can be whatever you want, Scootaloo. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong. If you like her, go tell her. There’s nothing wrong with two ponies who make each other happy.”

Silence fell over the pair as Scootaloo fell deep in thought. So she really was a filly-fooler, then. Was there any use denying it now? She had the biggest crush on Sweetie that was possibly imaginable, and that was obvious, too. Everything began to fall into place, and these sudden truths surfaced like facts that had always been there, only now being realized. They seemed much less daunting now.

With newfound confidence, a new idea planted in her brain, and much fewer questions, she thanked Lyra, who gave her one final, suffocating hug. With promises to meet again soon, she reluctantly returned home with a new plan of action in mind.

Sleep wasn’t really on her list of priorities that night. She tossed and turned, too excited to really think about closing her eyes. Coming to a decision, she abruptly tossed her covers off and sat up, gathered a few things, and furtively tiptoed through the house and out the front door. She had to see Sweetie now. This couldn’t wait. She had something to tell her...

Author's Note

(Thanks to Bleeding Raindrops, one of the editors, who posted the song on the google doc. The final scene of the chapter is best read with it playing in the background, as part of the scene in Lyra and Bon Bon's house, as ambience.)

What could Scootaloo possibly have in mind?

Confessions

At half past midnight, Scootaloo crept through her house and out the front door. Her parents would have been fast asleep hours ago, so it wasn’t like she was worried about getting caught. Still, she hadn’t ever snuck out before, so it was, after all, a new experience to her.

Ponyville seemed enormous and empty for the first time in her life. Rain poured down from the sky, drenching her mane and coat. As Scootaloo crossed the deserted streets and past darkened buildings, the short trek to the Carousel Boutique where Sweetie would certainly be staying was a seemingly long and tedious one, although she knew in reality it was a matter of minutes.

Dark shapes of houses dotted the empty, foreboding streets as Scootaloo wearily trod her way through town. Her home had never seemed so frightening. What if someone saw her? Being such a small and friendly town, everyone knew everyone. If just one pony spotted her, she would be dragged back home and confronted with her angry parents. Her own small hoofsteps seemed to echo all the way to Canterlot, and she slowed her steady pace to nearly a crawl.

She went over what she was about to say again and again. What if Sweetie was fast asleep, and she wouldn’t hear her at her window? What if Rarity heard her before Sweetie did? Maybe she should just wait until tomorrow to tell Sweetie how she felt. Wouldn’t that make more sense?

No. she asserted to herself. She couldn’t wait any longer. She was going to tell her now.

The smell of damp soil and wet grass filled her nose as she turned one final corner, the towering Boutique coming into view. Even that seemed daunting, but Scootaloo’s resolve was rock-solid. Nothing would stop her now.

Looking around, she spotted the easiest route to Sweetie’s bedroom window. Wind rustling against her feathers, she gradually ascended a tall tree, carefully lifting herself from branch to branch. Her hoof slipped once or twice on the damp bark, earning her a bruise and a few cuts, but she never fell.

At long last, determined and triumphant, she rose to a branch that was level with the roof outside Sweetie's window. With a small hop and buzz of her wings, she landed noiselessly on the roof, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. Inching slowly forward so as not to slip on the wet shingles, she rapped on the window lightly, hoping with all of her being Sweetie would be at least half-awake.

Silence. Nothing came from the other side of the glass pane for several minutes, except darkness. Scootaloo rapped again, and to her relief, a lamp turned on, and a silhouette of Sweetie crawled out of bed and came into view in front of the window. The filly stood there for a moment, rubbing her eyes before realization dawned, and she rushed up to open it and help her friend inside.

“Scootaloo! What are you doing out there? It’s raining! You’re soaked and you’re going to catch a cold! How did you get on the roof?” Sweetie exclaimed frantically. Scootaloo simply shrugged nonchalantly.

“I snuck out, Sweetie. To come see you. I have something to tell you.” Scootaloo blurted out.

“Oh? Well come in out of the cold first! It’s freezing out! What were you thinking?” Sweetie exclaimed as she helped Scootaloo in, then quickly hurried towards her closet, rummaging for a dry towel. Finding one, she draped it over her friend, who gave her a cute little smile, then looked away. There was a lump in Scootaloo’s throat as Sweetie finally sat down in front of her, tilting her head with a confused expression.

“I...er...” Scootaloo began, scuffing one hoof on the floor. Sweetie remained quiet, listening intently. “I think I...well, I sorta...maybe…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, spurting every word that followed in one barely legible string, “I really, really like you, and even though I know it’s weird for fillies to be together, Lyra and Bon Bon do it, and they’re happy, and I just want to be with you even though I don’t really understand why. I think you're pretty, and smart, and...and every time we kiss it makes my chest hurt and my wings flutter and...that’s it.”

Her spiel over, Scootaloo hung her head and stared at the ground, on the verge of tears and prepared for the worst.There was silence for a few seconds, Sweetie’s expression changing from surprise, to disbelief, to concern. The worst didn’t come. As soon as a tear started to form in Scootaloo’s eye, she was suddenly met with a white muzzle, caressing her cheek. Sweetie nuzzled and forced Scootaloo’s head up to look her in the eye.

“I want to be with you, too,” she whispered, pecking her cheek with a tender kiss. Scootaloo’s eyes threatened to bulge out of her head, and Sweetie chuckled. “When I asked you to kiss me at Summer Camp last year, I wasn’t telling you the truth. It wasn’t for cutie marks or anything. It was because I like you, too.” Leaning back, Sweetie gazed at her new fillyfriend.

Scootaloo stared for a moment, taking it all in. Sweetie had feelings for her the entire time, and didn’t tell her? Why had her friend kept it a secret? Then she knew. Had Sweetie confessed to her any time before the last week, she would have more than likely pushed her away. Scootaloo suddenly felt a pit of guilt in her stomach.

“It worked out in the end, though, right?” She put on a confident smile, noticing the guilty expression, but it wavered at the sight of the damp and shivering Scootaloo, who, in a flash, was swept up by a bone-crushing hug as Sweetie returned the exact favor Scootaloo had bestowed upon her the night before; sharing her warmth. Both blushed lightly, but didn’t move as they shared in the embrace, Scootaloo’s hooves eventually rising up to respond in kind.

“I guess now that you’re here, it’s too cold and wet outside to go back home tonight.” Sweetie murmured. “I was about to go to bed, but… you can sleep with me, if you want” Beneath her white fur, her cheeks grew a darker shade of red.

“Rarity wouldn’t mind?” Scootaloo asked, surprised. Sweetie shrugged, but led her new partner to the bed anyway.

“I don’t care. Even if she did find out, it would still be worth it. Besides, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

That was all Scootaloo needed. No further doubts or worries plagued her as she crawled into bed next to Sweetie, cuddling up not unlike how they had done the night before. Except this time, they were unafraid of being seen. Scootaloo felt on top of the world as she embraced the one filly she wanted to the most. All of her anguish and confusion of the last week seemingly melted away, and she let out a contented sigh. Sweetie noticed, and gave her a tiny nudge.

“You okay?” Sweetie whispered, her voice riddled with concern.

“Yeah.” Was the response. “Better than ever, actually.” Their muzzles met with mutual nuzzlings, Scootaloo’s heart pounding against her chest again. How could one moment be so perfect? As their snouts caressed and rubbed against each other, Scootaloo knew this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Sweetie beamed up at her, and the sight melted Scootaloo’s heart. In her eyes, she had somehow won herself the most beautiful filly in the world. How was that possible? Was it even fair that Sweetie liked her back? It probably shouldn’t be, but this is too awesome. But isn’t this sappy? What would Rainbow Dash think? Her thoughts caused her to falter a moment, and she realized what she was doing - Was she really dating a filly? - It felt so strange, but at the same time, it felt right. As if this was always what she had wanted to do. Her thoughts went back to Lyra again, and all her worries about the current situation dissipated. If Lyra and Bon Bon could be happy, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle could be happy, and that’s all she needed. Nothing else mattered.

The pair laid together for a long time, gazing at each other from across the pillow, hooves wrapped around each other’s bodies. Scootaloo didn’t dare say a word, too afraid to spoil the moment. Either Sweetie felt the same, or found it incredibly amusing, as she didn’t speak either, but lay back and regarded Scootaloo with a fond smile and the occasional nudge.

The night wore on, and Scootaloo slowly grew increasingly confident. The exchanged nuzzles became kisses, and they gradually moved closer and closer to each other, so that even when they weren’t kissing, their muzzles were touching in some form or another. The kissing, which started out as pecks on the cheek, moved to lips, which lasted longer while Scootaloo became braver. During one fateful kiss, Scootaloo’s tongue extended and prodded at Sweetie’s mouth, who welcomed it graciously. They made out for what felt like hours, hungrily lapping at each other’s mouths.

The extended, tongue-filled kissing ended, but Scootaloo soon found herself on top of Sweetie, passionately peppering her with dozens of kisses that were short, tender, and loving. Sweetie made a muffled giggling sound as she reciprocated, caught off guard by Scootaloo’s sudden confidence, but loving it all the same. She squirmed and laughed happily at the barrage.

“S-scoots! That tickles! S-stop! Hehehe!” Sweetie gave the other filly a weak prod with her hoof and shivered as Scootaloo started kissing along her neck and collar. It was an unusual, but welcome feeling to her.

“Never!” Scootaloo whispered defiantly, rubbing her hoof up and down Sweetie’s side. Sweetie gave a contented coo and relaxed back into her pillows as Scootaloo shifted down and kissed the top of her chest. Then she paused entirely, her hoof freezing.

“What’s wrong?” Sweetie tilted her head up and looked down at a reluctant Scootaloo.

“I...I want to make you feel good, Sweetie. Like...the way you make me feel.” Her voice was hoarse, and barely a whisper. In fact, it came as a surprise even to herself that she would suggest it. It was true, though. The feeling of using her own hoof on herself while thinking of Sweetie was incredible, and if that was any indication, Sweetie deserved to feel the absolute best.

“What do you mean, Scoots?” Sweetie seemed undoubtedly surprised, more from innocence than the suggestion itself.

“Well, I...m-maybe it’s better if I show you? Do you trust me?” Scootaloo received a quick, unfaltered nod. Sweetie didn’t even think twice; she really was incredible. Scootaloo rolled off and wriggled up to Sweetie’s neck, nuzzling her softy. One hoof rested itself on Sweetie’s stomach and slowly started trailing small circles. Down and down it went. Sweetie nuzzled her fillyfriend back happily when suddenly the hoof hit home, and she gasped out loud.

“O-Oh Scoots!” Cheeks flushed red, she buried her muzzle against Scootaloo’s as the warm, gentle hoof slid up and down against her small slit. It didn’t take long for her body to instinctively start lubricating. The smell wafted up to Scootaloo’s nose, and she found it intoxicating and alluring. Her hoof increased pace, firmly grinding against Sweetie’s eager fillyhood.

The muffled sounds of masturbation filled the room, along with Sweetie’s occasional moan or gasping of Scootaloo’s name. Heart leaping, Scootaloo couldn’t be happier to give her friend the same amazing feeling she had discovered days ago.

Their muzzles pressed together, and immediately they began exchanging tongue again. Sweetie squeaked several times, the hoof increasing in pace and firmness, but her voice was thankfully muffled by the kiss. The smell of her arousal increased and clouded Scootaloo’s mind. She briefly thought about her first experience with her own hoof, and what it had tasted like after she was finished. Something inside her, instinctual and primitive, told her to get a better look.

She shuffled lower, still rubbing her fillyfriend’s soaking crotch. Sweetie acknowledged her with a low, needy whimper, rubbing a hoof through Scootaloo’s mane. Scootaloo paused for a moment, reveling in the feeling of having a hoof run through her mane. She had always hated it when Ponies messed with her mane, especially her mother, but this was different. It was comforting and intimate. Her left ear flicked casually and she tried to push it to the back of her mind. Now was the time to focus on Sweetie.

“S-scoots” Sweetie huffed. Scootaloo grinned from ear to ear as she shifted down between Sweetie’s legs, kissing her tummy and abdomen, tongue trailing along her fur sensually, not really knowing what to do, but knowing it felt right all the same. I can’t believe this is happening She thought, doing her best to hold back how giddy and excited she was getting.

Sweetie blushed, but didn’t protest, widening her hips as Scootaloo placed her snout directly near her nether region, taking in a good whiff of that tantalizing scent. It was musky and overpowering, but Scootaloo couldn’t think of anything better in the world. She tilted her head back and took in the sight of the winking flower. The outer lips had become red and puffy, while the center was dripping. Sweetie’s tail twitched as Scootaloo looked up at her, an idea forming. She licked her lips and met Sweetie’s gaze, silently asking permission to try something. A little taken aback, Sweetie nodded.

Scootaloo tilted her head forward and took another whiff, her thoughts turning foggy and clouded, as if in a dream. She extended her tongue, just for a taste. Her tongue lapped up some excess fluids that were dripping slowly down the side, and she grimaced, gauging the taste as she held it on her tongue. She could tell right away that it was altogether different when it was directly from the source, and on someone else. Her tongue roughly dragged itself across Sweetie’s honeypot; starting from the bottom and working her way up, spreading the opening slightly.

Pulling back, she was busy thinking about how it was sweet and tangy - not unlike her own, but much more agreeable when it was Sweetie - when she saw the filly she had just been licking; her face was flushed red and buried in the nearest pillow, panting from the incredible feelings it had brought her. It must have felt a lot better than Scootaloo previously estimated. For the second time that night, she felt her heart clench and she could think nothing but of how adorable she looked.

Then she did what any good fillyfriend would do; She went back down and licked her again, starting at the base like she had before, and moving her tongue upward at a much quicker pace. At the top, she found a familiar nub she had noticed on herself before. She knew this felt even better, so she licked that, too.

Her inexperience and naivety certainly showed, but Scootaloo made up for it with zeal and passion. Every lick made Sweetie squeal and squirm pleasurably, so she kept doing it. Soon, she was lapping rapidly at her sex, taking extra care and attention on the small nub, curling her tongue around it.

Sweetie’s hoof came around and rested on top of Scootaloo’s head, hoof running through her mane again. As Sweetie moaned quietly above her, burying her muzzle in a nearby pillow, Scootaloo was in bliss. The taste of her marefriend, the warmth of her body, the sweet, musky scent, and the feeling of her hoof running through her mane was all too much. It seemed as if Sweetie was begging for more now, desperately pulling Scootaloo in. Scootaloo complied readily, planting her muzzle directly on the mound so that she could lick with a faster pace much easier, and found that her tongue sank in slightly. Sweetie jerked her hips up, easing the tongue in further. In response, Scootaloo buried her tongue as deep as it could go, taking in every potent scent and sweet flavor.

Sweetie’s mouth fell open, and the sound of a quiet whine filled the room. Scootaloo knew what this meant all too well, and to show she was right there with her during her first time, reached up to squeeze Sweetie’s hoof. Sweetie’s hips fell into a rhythmic humping against Scootaloo’s muzzle as the heat inside her body grew warmer and warmer until achieving an ultimate climax, and Scootaloo was more than happy to drink back every drop of nectar that suddenly flooded her mouth. Her hoof was squeezed tightly the whole time.

“Scooooooots!” Sweetie mewled and panted for a few long-lasting seconds until at last she collapsed in a daze. A smiling, wet-muzzled Scootaloo crawled up and kissed her joyfully. Sweetie was hesitant and first, but curiously flicked her tongue against Scootaloo’s, gauging the taste of her own secretions. In the back of her mind, Scootaloo worried that it wasn’t as good as she wanted it to be.

The kiss was broken, but their muzzles didn’t part. Sweetie mumbled something Scootaloo didn’t hear, but waved it off, instead focusing on speaking just louder than a whisper.

“Did I do okay?”

“Wow.” Sweetie repeated with a goofy grin that stretched ear-to-ear. That was all Scootaloo needed. Sweetie gave her one final kiss, her expression both grateful and satisfied, and it was enough to shake off any fears of inadequacy Scootaloo still held.

Scootaloo pulled the covers up over themselves, nestling in comfortably behind her filly friend, who sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, asleep within seconds. Scootaloo kissed her cheek, whispered goodnight, and turned out the bedside lamp, despite not feeling tired herself.

Sleep wouldn’t come to Scootaloo so easily—she was far too happy. As the night wore on, she nuzzled and kissed all over Sweetie’s face and neck, hooves roaming all around her body. Even though she hadn’t gotten a chance for pleasure herself, she didn’t really care. Making Sweetie feel good was more than enough, and getting to sleep next to her was more than she could possibly dream. By the time she finally did fall asleep, the sun was almost up.

Author's Note

Check out the awesome fanart:
http://amandaam.deviantart.com/art/I-feel-the-same-way-474510945

Carnival

The next morning, Sweetie was already awake when Scootaloo opened her eyes.

“Morning, Scootaloo! How’d you sleep?”

The first response that came to Scootaloo’s mind was that of a quiet kiss on the lips. She figured Sweetie would understand that well enough. She wasn’t mistaken.

“How long were you awake?” Scootaloo asked, slowly stretching her limbs and rolling onto her back. Wanting to remain close, Sweetie inched forward and placed her head on Scootaloo’s chest.

“Like an hour or something.” Sweetie waved if off as if it was nothing.

“Really? Why didn’t you wake me?” Scootaloo wrapped a hoof around her shoulders and held her close.

“Because you’re really cute when you sleep.”

Scootaloo tried to hide her imminent blush. Had any other pony used such a term to describe anything she did, she would have protested, but Sweetie was different. She let her hoof trail down and rubbed her back in small circles. Sweetie let out a contented sound that was halfway between a groan and a purr. She slowly shifted her head so that she could look up and meet Scootaloo’s eyes.

“I’m… really glad you came to see me last night,” Sweetie said, “and I’m glad we’re special someponies.” The words rang through Scootaloo’s head and melted her heart. All she could do was smile and nod.

“Same here, Sweetie! You’re really nice… and pretty… and smart…” Scootaloo had started naming off all of Sweetie’s qualities that she knew, when she was suddenly cut off with yet another kiss, silencing her immediately.

Sweetie lifted herself up, hovering over her fillyfriend, yet it didn’t last long as Scootaloo’s inner desire to be dominant and tough took over. Soon the proverbial tables turned just as Scootaloo flipped Sweetie onto her back and peppered her with kisses.

Sweetie was all too eager to oblige as Scootaloo covered her face with kiss after kiss, erupting into a fit of giggles, but had to pull away and squeal for mercy as she gasped for air.

“Scoots...you’re always so good at that…” Sweetie remarked.

“No I’m not. You’re the best kisser in the world, Sweetie,” Scootaloo gushed, leaning forward to nuzzle her fillyfriend. Yet, as she did, Sweetie Belle seemed to freeze up, staring past her. Scootaloo was about to question her when a shrill voice from behind caused her to jump off of Sweetie and crashed to the floor below.

“Sweetie Belle,” Rarity exclaimed. “Come here. Now.”

Sweetie begrudgingly climbed out of bed and complied, following her sister out of the room and around the corner. Scootaloo thought she could hear their hushed voices, but couldn’t understand a word. What if Rarity didn’t approve? What if Sweetie was grounded for life, and it was all Scootaloo’s fault?

Minutes seemed to melt into agonizing hours as she waited in turmoil for Sweetie to return. It was worse than the waiting room at the dentist’s office. She began to wonder if Sweetie would ever come back. Maybe she ran away from home to escape being ostracized by her sister?

The pristine walls of Sweetie’s bedroom, not unlike the cleanliness of a dentist’s office, seemed to close around Scootaloo: a boxlike confinement that imprisoned her and kept her from knowing what was happening on the other side of the open door. Scootaloo didn’t have the courage to go near, afraid of what she would hear.

She squirmed from side to side impatiently. She had never truly been in Sweetie’s room alone before, and with tables and stands lined with dolls and stuffed animals, it felt like a million eyes were watching and judging her, but at the same time she felt alone and deserted. Sweat started to pour down her brow, and she counted seconds like they were hours.

But Sweetie did return - in reality, it had only been a few minutes - and she was smiling. Dumbfounded, Scootaloo clambered back up onto the bed, her voice frantic and full of fear.

“What happened? Is she punishing you? Are you being kicked out? Did she call my parents? This is all my fault, Sweetie, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble!”

Sweetie tilted her head, confused at first, but her expression quickly changed when realization of the source of Scootaloo’s fear set in, and she laughed. Kissing the frazzled Scootaloo in an attempt to calm her, she shook her head.

“Oh, Scoots, of course not! My sister doesn’t care that you’re a filly! She cares because I’m her sister and she’s worried about me growing up! She just gave me some dumb talk about birds and bees, what a lady does when she goes on a date, and all that stuff. And yes, she called your parents, but only to let them know you’re here and safe.”

Scootaloo was shocked. If Rarity didn’t care, and Sweetie didn’t seem to think anyone cared, then maybe what Lyra had said was true. Maybe ponies were accepting. She recalled the incident with Apple Bloom; how their last meeting had gone.

“R-really? She doesn’t… she doesn’t mind? What about Apple Bloom? What happened yesterday?” Her ears splayed back against her head, thinking about how she had run so quickly and left her friends standing at the clubhouse door.

“No, silly, Rarity doesn’t mind, and Apple Bloom…” she sighed wearily. “Apple Bloom was really really hurt that we didn’t tell her. She thought it was a little weird at first, but mostly she was just sad that her fellow Crusaders didn’t say anything about it.” Suddenly, her sad expression flipped as a brilliant idea formed, and her positive, upbeat attitude bounced back.

“I think we should make her an apology card!” A light seemed to shine in Sweetie’s eyes as the thought of an arts and craft project came to mind, and Scootaloo knew her well enough to know it involved lots of glitter. Scootaloo just nodded, unsure of what to say.

With a sigh of relief, Scootaloo collapsed on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, thinking everything over. Sensing her thoughtful state, her beloved fillyfriend took her time in curling up next to her again, attempting to comfort her.

“You okay, Scoots?” Sweetie squeaked after a long time.

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated. “Do you… want to go on a date with me today?” She fumbled over her words, even as she became aware of how preposterous it was that she would still be nervous about such a thing.

“I’d love to! Oh, the carnival is in town! I’ve been really wanting to go! Oh, but, I… don’t have any bits left, though…” She hung her head, guilty for spoiling such a great first date idea with bad news. For Scootaloo, it was a golden opportunity.

“Pfft, don’t be silly! I’ve got lots of allowance saved up. Besides, it’s a date! I’m supposed to pay! I think...” Scootaloo said, puffing out her chest at the idea that she would pay for her fillyfriend. The idea made her feel important. It had the desired effect on Sweetie, as she hugged her tight.

“Oh Scoots, you’re the best! I’ll pay for the next date, I promise!”

The bright June afternoon sun bore down on Ponyville’s citizens during its annual Summer Carnival. What was once a tranquil park had become a bustling center of activity and limitless entertainment. Hundreds of ponies, young and old, stuffed their faces with snacks and laughed with delight, filling the air with a contagious atmosphere of joy.

After a few hours of engorging themselves with treats and enjoying their fair share of rides, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle maneuvered their way through a particularly giddy crowd that had gathered around a stand with a big banner that read ‘Changeling Battle!’ It was a simple enough game: use the ball they gave you to knock over the moving targets painted like Changelings.

What was different about this game, as they quickly learned, were the prizes: adorable stuffed toys of various animals, a water pistol, a Wonderbolts poster, and a few other knick knacks, all of which seemed to be of a much higher quality than most. Sweetie Belle was immediately transfixed on a stuffed puppy, eyes lighting up and voice squeaking as she leaned in close so that Scootaloo could hear.

“Aaaaw! Look at that one, Scoots! It’s so cute! I sure wish I could win him.” She gazed at it longingly, and that was enough to set Scootaloo’s mind.

“You like it, huh? Don’t worry Sweetie, I’ll win it for you!” Scootaloo puffed out her chest and exclaimed with pride.

“Really, Scoots? You don’t have to. This one looks hard.” But Sweetie was immediately swept away as Scootaloo grabbed her hoof, pushing her way forward to get their space in line.

A pimple-faced teenage colt sat from his post behind the counter next to a switchboard and a couple levers, egging each new ‘contestant’ on.

“Step right up and claim your prize, everypony! The game’s easy! Use your super powered energy ball, shown here as a small ordinary rubber ball, to knock over the targets! Ten points for the minions, and thirty points for the Queen! You only need thirty points to win, and you’ve got three shots. Think you can do it? Come and test your mettle!”

It seemed easy enough to Scootaloo. She was sure to win! Yet, as pony after pony tried, they all failed and walked away sadly. The smug-looking colt whisked them all away with meaningless words like ‘Ooh, better luck next time!’ and ‘Oh, bad luck!’. With each failure, Scootaloo’s confidence dwindled, until finally, it was her turn next.

“Think you’ve got what it takes?” The colt asked, leaning in to stare down at her with a grin.

“Pfft, of course! No problem! I got this!” Scootaloo replied, reflecting his smug grin. The colt didn’t seem convinced, and rolled his eyes.

“All right, little girl, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. This one is tough. Five bits!”

“Five bits? Wha-” Scootaloo was about to complain, but caught Sweetie’s glance out of the corner of her eye, and quickly shut her mouth and paid up. Whatever the price was, it was worth it for her, she thought. The colt promptly tossed her a ball, pulled a lever to start the contraption, and leaned back to watch.

Gears whirred and spun, jolting the entire display to life. Lights danced and five little plastic figurines sprung up and began to move around quickly. Scootaloo kept watching, clutching the ball firmly, until finally her target came into view. The Changeling Queen figure darted out from behind a picture of a tree and moved behind a bush. Then another bush, then back to the tree in a seemingly sporadic pattern. Scootaloo narrowed her eyes, lifted her hoof, and flung the ball. It missed.

Off to the side, the colt snorted and chuckled under his breath. Scootaloo shot him an icy glare and grabbed her second ball. A cold sweat was beginning to form on her forehead now, and she watched carefully until once again the Queen darted out and hid itself within seconds. She watched it for a long time, trying to figure out where it was going. Did it even have a rhythm? Was this even winnable? Closing her eyes, Scootaloo took a guess and launched her second ball at the tree. It bounced and rolled away, hitting nothing. The colt laughed.

“That’s two! Look, little filly, there’s no shame in giving up now and walking away! I’ll even give one of your bits back because I feel bad. Maybe the teacup ride is more your style?”

Scootaloo fumed, grabbed her last ball, and flung it full force at the colt. It hit him directly in the eye, hard enough that she was sure it would bruise, and sent him crashing backwards.

Meanwhile, the ball had flown away, rebounding off the back wall, and drove into the Changeling Queen, shattering it into a million pieces. The entire machine exploded into a fit of lights and streamers, with a robotic voice declaring her right as the winner. Scootaloo stood in awe as her ears rang with the echo of the impact.

“I... I won? What? Really?” Scootaloo stared blankly at the scoreboard, which had started flashing, announcing that she was the hero of Canterlot and had vanquished the evil Changeling army. The colt grumbled and stood up, stared at the board, and facehoofed.

“Just pick your prize and get out of here,” he grumbled. Of course, she already knew what she wanted.

Several minutes later, free of the crowd and the overbearing lights, Scootaloo found herself sandwiched between a large stuffed dog and an ecstatic Sweetie Belle, who was thanking her over and over.

“Oh Scootaloo! That was amazing! You totally showed him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sweetie kissed her cheek for possibly the millionth time, yet Scootaloo didn’t blush any less than she had the first.

“Heh, it was nothing, Sweetie! Anything for my special somepony. You deserve it!” Those words seemed to roll off her tongue smoothly. It tasted better than any chocolate in the world. Sweetie seemed intent on continuing.

“Still, though! You were so amazing up there. I’m gonna think of you every time I cuddle with this plushie. It’s going to be my new favorite! Think I’ll name him... Jeffrey!”

Scootaloo didn’t bother telling her how silly it was to name a dog Jeffrey, or how uncool it seemed that the plushie she would be cuddling with when she thought of such an awesome pegasus had such a lame name. She was too busy being intensely overjoyed and proud of herself to worry about that.

The pair soon moved to a shady spot next to a donut stand and slumped against it. Sweetie Belle wrapped her hooves around Scootaloo’s neck, repeating again and again how grateful she was. Eventually, she moved on to talk about other things, like a carnival she had been to in Manehattan, and what rides must be like in the Crystal Empire while Scootaloo laid back and listened, mostly remaining quiet. She gave the occasional nod and ‘mhmm’ to signal she was listening, at least mostly.

In reality, Scootaloo was doing a lot of thinking, but listening at the same time. Mostly, she just thought about how lucky she was. It wasn’t exactly like her and Sweetie had never spent time together before, or even been to the carnival, but it still felt special. A few days ago, Scootaloo never would have thought this could happen. A week ago, she would have been ashamed of the way she was sitting now, in plain sight for other ponies to see, cuddling and sharing the occasional smooch with another filly.

It didn’t feel wrong to her. Remembering how full of fear she had been just days ago, she almost laughed. It was still a little embarrassing, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to just tell everyone, but it also didn’t feel like such a big deal anymore. When she was with Sweetie Belle, she was happy. It felt right.

“Earth to Scootaloo. Are y’all in there?” A cocky-looking Apple Bloom suddenly filled Scootaloo’s vision as she snapped to attention. Sweetie Belle giggled off to the side.

“Ah was beginning to think we’d lost yah there, Scoots.” Apple Bloom smiled her usual warm smile. Her presence suddenly clicked, and Scootaloo gulped.

“Uh... h-hey Apple Bloom…” she started, avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground. Unseen to the farm filly, Sweetie Belle rubbed Scootaloo’s hoof comfortingly, silently telling her that it was okay, and reminding her she was there.

“Hey yourself, yah big lovebird!” Apple Bloom snickered, then her expression softened. “So, uh... ah know ah kinda overreacted back at the clubhouse when ah saw you two the other day. Ah was just surprised is all. Can y’all forgive me?”

Scootaloo looked up, bewildered. Apple Bloom was the one asking forgiveness? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? She cleared her throat and stood up, leaving Sweetie’s hoof to awkwardly pull away. She faced Apple Bloom for the first time since that day and tried to force back a wave of emotion.

“No, I should say sorry. I ran away because I was afraid and scared. I didn’t know what I was feeling, and I thought that you would make fun of us. I thought that it was wrong because…” She sniffled and wiped away a tear as she faltered, fumbling over her words as she struggled to talk. “Because we’re both fillies, and I thought that everyone, i-including you, would make fun of us. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you more. I’m sorry I didn’t-” She was suddenly interrupted through her tears by an enormously powerful, bone-crushing hug.

“Scootaloo, ah love you as my friend, but y’all can be right silly sometimes. Of course ah forgive you for that. As long as my friends are happy, Ah’m happy.” Apple Bloom said quickly, letting up from her hug as Scootaloo sat back down, rubbing the back of her hoof across her eyes.

“Yay! The Cutie Mark Crusaders are back together and everything is back to normal!” Sweetie cheered.

“Ah just knew we’d make it! We always do! Anyway, ah’ll leave you two to your fancy date. Ah gotta get back to my sis! See you around!” With that, Apple Bloom was gone, waving at her friends as she rounded the corner and returned to her family’s Apple stand.

Scootaloo’s wandering thoughts were once again interrupted by the filly next to her, who nuzzled her cheek.

“I told you she doesn’t mind, Scoots!”

“Yeah, I guess you were right all along. I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.” Scootaloo flashed a toothy grin. Sweetie Belle nodded, her attention suddenly being drawn to the Ferris wheel not too far away.

“Hey, that looks neat! Wanna go ride on it?” she asked, bouncing up and down excitedly. How could Scootaloo say no?

Afternoon had turned to evening by the time the two ponies made their way to the Ferris wheel. A staple attraction due to the awe and wonder it evoked, both from afar and while sitting at the top of it’s towering height, a Ferris wheel was a signature piece for any worthwhile carnival, and this wheel was no exception. Scootaloo stared straight up at it’s peak, wondering how far it would be to fall.

At some point during the day, while the pair had been walking side-by-side, with Scootaloo carrying Sweetie’s prize on her back, the tail of one, which had been swishing back and forth cheerfully, had crossed over the other by accident. The other filly responded by intertwining hers around it, holding it in place. So they had kept that position, earning a few smiles and ‘awws’ from older ponies. Standing in line in front of the large Ferris wheel, their tails were locked.

“Ooh, it looks so high!” Sweetie murmured, her nose pointed upwards. Scootaloo chuckled and drew a hoof around her.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie! I’m a pegasus! I”ll keep you safe!” She grinned, waiting for Sweetie to point out the fact that she couldn’t actually fly and so the point was moot, but Sweetie said nothing, leaning her head against Scootaloo’s as if putting her trust in her anyway. Scootaloo swelled with pride.

It didn’t take long for them to make it to the front of the line, reluctantly pulling apart their tails. The conductor gave them a knowing glance and beckoned them on. He latched on the seatbelt and spoke.

“Okay, ponies. No hooves or limbs outside the ride at any time. Do not rock the cart for any reason. If you get scared, just hug your fillyfriend.” He gave Scootaloo a wink, who in turn blushed profusely. The colt leaned out of the car and pulled the lever, waving them off as the ride moved in its upward circle.

“He seemed nice,” Sweetie said, immediately wrapping her tail over Scootaloo’s again.

“Maybe he heard about what I did to that other colt at the shooting game? I’d be scared too,” Scootaloo shrugged. Sweetie chuckled.

As they slowly rose upward, the sunset beyond the distant Sweet Apple Acres came into view. The sun was half-submerged below the sky where it couldn’t be seen, yet it still kissed the sky with its vibrant colours, filling it with a brilliant orange hue. Both gasped.

“It’s beautiful,” Sweetie whispered, her head falling onto Scootaloo’s shoulder casually. Scootaloo’s hoof instinctively wrapped around her body.

“Yeah. Totally.”

* * *

Author's Note

After months of work and putting off writing, it's finally finished. I'm almost a little sad to see it done. Writing this Novella was quite the journey.