Author's Note

I never do Anthro. As such, this fic will contain many elements that may send many of you off to Camp Go Squick Yourself. These include 20,000+ Horsewords, Anthro, Futa, Futa on Male, Futa on Female, Male on Female, Excessive Shower Scenes for Exposition Purposes, etc. See the Bonus Guide below for a full list.

Endercrow32: Step Your Game Up, Eh?

Chapter 1

The Spunky Chicken

Fic Contains The Following:

Camp Go Squick Yourself Bonus

Characters Are Of Age To Vote, Drink, And Carouse Bonus

Futaloo, Where Are You? Bonus

Stage 4 Anthro With Jazz Hands Bonus

Pipsqueak's First Cock Bonus

Scootaloo's First Cock Bonus

Sweetie Belle Is Indiscriminate About Who She Boffs Bonus

Breasts That Are Illegal in Australia Bonus

More Pitching and Catching Than The World Series Bonus

Enough Lube For A Slip 'n Slide Bonus

Porn, Porn As Far As The Eye Can See Bonus

Cloud-Shower Bonus

Anal Creampies For Everypony Bonus

Yes, She Has A Safeword Bonus

Pipsqueak frowned as the pins ricocheted, four of them crashing into the others in a blur and the lot hitting the back of the alley. “Right, that produced no results.”

Sweeper shrugged. “What's next?” He dusted his hind hooves on the mat and reached for the damp towel to cool his hands off. Then he flexed his fingers, grimacing slightly. “Hate to say it, but I'm starting to get tired. Even I don't spend my whole life slinging bowling balls. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Almost done. And will you stop complaining? You'll be fine tomorrow. You always are.” Pipsqueak checked the ticky-box by 'unbalanced ball.'. He'd inherited Princess Twilight's love of the ticky box. “Your skill obviously has some effect on the ball. Out of ten throws with that weighted one, you still managed seven strikes.”

“Should have been eight, but that 7-10 split in frame five stymied me.” He picked up the ball that they had doctored and set it back in its crate. “Imagine if I had to try and make that shot with hooves rather than hands?”

The two of them were testing their Twilight Time theory on just how much a sporting Cutie Mark could influence the outcome of a match. There had to be limitations, otherwise a pony could simply throw strikes all day without a break. Princess Twilight, having some understanding of the limits of cutie marks herself, had encouraged the two colts to be innovative in their experiments. And so they had. At least the alley had been pretty much empty tonight, so they could do their tests without disrupting a lot of ponies. They had manipulated pin position, lane conditions, ball composition, and others, to see if Sweeper's talent could be made to manifest.

“We've just got an External Influences hypothesis left.” Pipsqueak considered nearby distractions that could be useful. If Sweeper's marefriend had been around, it would have been good. But he was used to having her nearby. It wasn't a great distraction if you knew the pony. If they had been outdoors, he would have asked her Pegasus friend Diamond Rose to buzz him a little, but indoors? The bowling alley had a 'No Flying' policy. “Hrm. I might need a moment. Take a break while I think about this.”

Nodding, Sweeper slumped back in his chair and stretched his legs out, whisking his blue and white tail free. “Sure. Go flirt with the old Crusader-mares over there. Maybe you can get Scootaloo to buck another bowling ball over half a dozen lanes while I'm trying to wind up.”

He chuckled at that, but spared a glance towards the three young mares. He'd been watching his old classmates on and off for most of the afternoon, when he wasn't taking notes on Sweeper's throws. He couldn't help it, not when they were as raucous together as they were when they had been fillies.

Sweetie Belle was daintily nudging her ball down the lane, as oblivious as ever to the notion that one could actually wind up and throw. As much as she derided her older sister's way of declaring ordinary sports like bowling 'uncouth', she was every bit a princess as Rarity when it came to competition, the annual Sisterhooves Social notwithstanding.

Applebloom was unwrapping and re-wrapping her wrist, gingerly twisting it back and forth. Pipsqueak was willing to bet on a work injury, rather than a sporting one. Nopony worked like an Apple. She had probably hurt it carrying apple baskets or fixing the barn. As she pressed both palms together and grimaced, she flexed impressively muscled arms, then appeared satisfied and reached for one of the lighter balls.

And then there was Scootaloo, back home after being out on the speed-racing circuit for another season. She was lounging over three seats, hind hooves stacked on top of each other. Whereas her friends had worn pale T-shirts and form-fitting shorts, she was dressed in a sports bra, sweatpants, and a wacky tie-dye, short-sleeved shirt that she'd opened down to her navel. Two orange wings were pushed through slits at the back, but they were currently folded up. When they were out at their full spread, Pipsqueak bet they looked pretty cool. Her fingers were mussing her barely-there purple mane, buzzed down to nearly her skull on the sides. It had been growing back for nearly a month, and the long stripe still there was almost like a soft little mohawk, but she was constantly swirling it and pushing it back. The circumference of her arms was nearly a match for Applebloom's, and the thickness of her thighs was evident even in her sweats. To Pipsqueak, she was bad, butch . . . and beautiful.

Grinning, he patted Sweeper on the knee. “Cheers. That's a good idea. Just start up again when you're ready. And I'll go and see what they think.” Ignoring the look of alarm on his friend's face, Pipsqueak slipped down the stairs to the main level and darted across to where the ladies were high-fiving after Applebloom's spare.

Scootaloo was the first to look over and she did a double-take. “Whoo. Hey there, cutie!” Then her double-take became a triple-take and she stifled a snort. “Whoah, Pipsqueak? Is that you?” She hooted and slapped her leg as she sat up. “I thought you were a mare for a minute there!”

Mortally offended, he glowered back at her. “Hello to you, too.” Mare? It wasn't like he'd bounded up to them in a dress.

“Oh, ignore her,” Applebloom said, undoing and re-wrapping her wrist yet again. “She ain't seen you for a couple years like I have. Besides, you're gettin' too skinny for your own good..”

Pipsqueak looked down at himself. He could see his hooves and his legs without having to inhale and hold his stomach in. Wasn't that the point? “What's that supposed to mean?”

Applebloom got up, since Scootaloo was too busy cackling at his reaction. She smoothed his brown mane away from his face and her palms cradled his cheeks. “Look, it kinda starts here. You got a real slim face. Your cheekbones do this sorta thing . . .” She rubbed her palms down towards his chin. “And you come to a point here, rather than bein' all blunt.”

He nodded, his head still pressed between her hands. “Yes, so what?”

She shook her head, her touch gliding down to grip his shoulders through his shiny, collared shirt, then quickly moving along his sides to slip beneath the hem and caress his waist and hips, as if she were measuring him for a new suit. “Ain't just that. See how my fingers can touch each other? You got the kind of build that's . . . well, opposite of my family. We all bulk up. You're . . .”

“Graceful,” Sweetie Belle suggested. “You move smoothly. And you're slender. What did you do, take up running?”

This was beginning to get embarrassing. Normally he wouldn't mind a mare like Applebloom patting him down like this, but it wasn't as if he'd asked for it. “Could we please stop talking about me for a second?” He glanced over at where he'd left Sweeper, but his friend was stretching and rolling his wrists, not even paying attention. “I just stopped over because I'm on a project and I could use some help.”

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle perked their ears, but Scootaloo yawned and flopped back down. “Bored now,” she declared, then darted a glance at him to see if he'd pursue it. Oh, yes. That was the Scootaloo he remembered. She'd gotten a rise out of him and had been hoping to keep the attention.

“It's your turn,” Applebloom prompted her. “Go an' throw your ball. We'll listen to him. And no cheating!” she called after her friend, who rose and slouched towards the ball rack. “Go on,” she said, turning back to him.

Pipsqueak nodded over at Sweeper. “We're cataloguing the effects of his cutie mark on various influences. And we've reached the part of the experiment where we need somepony to try and distract him. Either of you have some ideas?”

Sweetie Belle grinned and looked over her shoulder. “Scootaloo's a distraction.”

“He thought of that,” Pipsqueak pointed out. “In fact, I think he's expecting it.” It was as known a variable as all the other things they had tried tonight, but still. “We need something a bit more . . . unexpected.”

She pouted and snapped her fingers, her pale pink tail swishing her disapproval of being unable to use her friend. “Phooey.”

Applebloom glanced down at their scoresheet and ticked something off on her fingers. “We got another frame an' ain't neither of you gonna catch me at this rate.” She looked up again as pins crashed and Scootaloo yelped with glee at a surprise strike. “Not even if she follows that up with a turkey.”

As their friend came back gloating, both ex-Crusaders glanced at each other and Pipsqueak could see one of those infamous mental conversations taking place. Scootaloo, meanwhile, got right up against him, invading his personal space, and stalked around him as if she were thinking of buying him. “Dude, do you even work out? You're barely toned, but you look like you got stretched. And with that shirt? Untucked? You're hiding your real shape.”

“Scoots, a word?” Applebloom said warily as Sweetie shrugged and went to take her turn. “And get outta his face. He ain't a prize steer that ain't been eatin'. So he's a little bit on the mare-ish side with those legs. It's cute.”

Oh, now he was cute. Pipsqueak groped for a comeback that would restore his masculinity and pride, but Scootaloo patted his shoulder and stepped back as Applebloom pulled her in for a quick, whispered conversation. From the expression on her face, she didn't like what she was hearing, but she shot a look at him that made his ears flick and heat up at the same time.

Sweetie Belle now pranced back, having managed to hoof all her balls into the gutter once again. But she didn't seem too perturbed. In fact, she was grinning. “I know that look. Applebloom's thought of something.”

“Might say I have,” she allowed. “Remind me: Was Sweeper there the day Diamond Tiara thought it'd be real funny to steal my bra and run it up her family flagpole?”

Scootaloo snorted. “Nah. He was out at a tournament in Manehattan, I think. I remember him talking about the prize money later.”

Applebloom pulled her arms inside her T-shirt, which hung down to her thighs. “Thought not. Might wanna gather up our stuff.” She nodded at Pipsqueak. “You get one shot at this and you're gonna owe us afterwards.” One arm re-emerged from a sleeve, dangling a green bra and she handed it off to Sweetie Belle. “Be right back.”

He blinked as she sidled casually across two lanes to get up close to where Sweeper was just picking up another bowling ball. “Oh, hang on. She's not going to . . .”

As his friend took a breath and sighted down the ball, beginning to take his steps towards the foul line, Applebloom grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up to her chin.

From his end, Pipsqueak could only see her long, bare back and the fuzzy tufts of yellow fur above her tail. But the reaction from Sweeper was a simultaneous bobbling of the ball and a stumbling on his hooves. There was a thump on the lane as the bright blue ball skittered free, but hung just on the rim of the gutter as it spun down the lane.

Applebloom had let her shirt drop by then, but he could see past her, to where his friend was windmilling his arms, staying just on the right side of the foul line. Then there was the sound of pins clattering and everypony looked down the lane to see that the entire right side of the framework had dissolved. Sure, there were still four pins left standing, but for a pony bowler of his calibre? An easy spare.

There was silence as Sweeper staggered backwards, shaking his head. Then Scootaloo snickered. “For science, yeah?” she asked.

Applebloom grinned back, smoothing her top along her tummy. “Yup. Twilight would yell at us, but we've got scientific principle on our side.” She looked at Pipsqueak. “That any help?”

He shrugged, still surprised from her tactics. “Perhaps, but to really determine if it's a factor, we'd have to repeat it at least four more times.”

Sweetie Belle's ears drooped. “I don't think we're going to be able to get away with it even once more.” She nodded down the alley. The owner, Mr. Kingpin was glaring at them.

“Yep,” Sighing, Applebloom reached for her purse and held out her hand for her bra, stuffing it inside. “Toldja. C'mon. We can get out the back way before he gets to us.”

As the three girls scrambled, Scootaloo pointed right at Pipsqueak. “You, sexy mare. You owe us big time. Ice cream later at Sugar Cube Corner.” Then she was vaulting over the vinyl and plastic seats and following her two best friends through the emergency exit.

Sulking at Scootaloo's parting shot, Pipsqueak picked up his list and wrote in 'method used: topless mare' beneath the ticky box for External Influences. Then he ticked it off.

It took a while to convince Mr. Kingpin that Sweeper had not merely been the victim of a prank, but was indeed part of a Princess Twilight-approved social experiment. Even if a pony allowed for the innate chaos caused by certain citizens of Ponyville, Pipsqueak certainly hadn't asked Applebloom to show off her boobs. And, frankly, if there was one thing she had going for her, it was that most of Ponyville had already seen them in the aftermath of the flagpole fiasco with Diamond Tiara. One pony had kept her dignity that day, even while soaked through to the skin in a white T-shirt. The other one had simply blamed it on the family butler.

So both colts had escaped unscathed, although Pipsqueak had been tasked with giving Applebloom the notice of a month-long ban from the Alley. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, as known accomplices, had merely received a week's banishment. Sweeper had thrown up his hands, taken the data they'd accumulated, and gone home. Pipsqueak couldn't blame him, since he had been the test subject all evening. Privately, he was envious that his friend had gotten a Crusader-approved eyeful of Applebloom.

And as he sat by himself in Sugar Cube Corner, with Pinkie Pie pronking around and being pink, he sighed and held out a hand in front of him, trying to see what the girls had seen. Mistaken me for a mare? That was the craziest thing he'd heard. Sure, he'd been a bit gangly when he was younger, but he'd grown up and filled out. Or, at least, he thought he had. Unconsciously, he flexed his arm and did his best to assess the curve of his bicep. It was enough, wasn't it? Then he remembered what Applebloom had said about fitting her hand against him.

His white ears waggled as he thought. Maybe Scootaloo was just reacting to all the times she'd been accused of being a colt, using some sort of turnaround as fair play and he'd just gotten caught up in it. But Applebloom had been so sure . . .

He kicked one hind leg up to cross over his knee, looking down at the splotch of brown colour on his right hoof, then at the cuffs of his trousers. The salespony had convinced him that the slim line of these black pants had been the way to go. He tried to fit both his hands around his thigh, to see if he was getting too skinny.

Then he looked up and blinked, because Applebloom was standing beside him, palms flat on the table, with the neck of her shirt gaping and giving him a view of her cleavage. He noticed that she had yet to put her bra back on, but she was less than curvy, so you really had to be looking to see it. “Did you get what you needed from that?”

Pipsqueak nodded. “It wasn't really much of a sample size, so Twilight's going to question the results, but he still didn't throw a gutter ball. Like I said, we'd have to do it again. I just don't think you should have to be the one. You already flashed him once. And, uh, you really didn't have to the first time, either.” He looked past her for Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.

She waved it off and sat beside him. “I've been good for too long. Kinda missed doin' something silly like that. And they're comin'. I just wanted to get here before them, cause you looked a little freaked out back there when Scoots was diggin' into your psyche.” Sighing contentedly, she sipped her sarsaparilla float, the treat ensuring that Pinkie Pie wouldn't disturb them. “You're pretty good-lookin', Pips. Even I can't deny it and I can't really be bothered to look around right now.” She tossed her red ponytail back over her shoulder and swished her real pony tail from side to side. “But it ain't a bad thing, really, what she said. So don't let it get to you.”

He waved his hands over his own bowl of chocolate ice cream rather helplessly. “I don't understand. She makes one comment about me looking like a mare and I lose my mind?”

“Ain't just that.” Applebloom shrugged and took another long pull on her drink. “Like Sweetie said, you're light on your hooves. And with your pinto colourin', you don't quite have the chest definition that other colts like Truffle or Snips have. Or me.” She gave her own small breasts a quick heft and chuckled. “Just the way your genes have gone, I guess. So, yeah, you had what Rarity would call 'quite the silhouette' and it got Scootaloo's attention.”

“Darn right it did,” came her voice from behind him. He jumped a little and mentally cursed himself for not putting his back against the wall. Then there was a gentle weight against him as she settled her hands on his shoulders and pressed herself against him. “Don't you move, pretty boy,” Scootaloo murmured, kissing him behind the ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sweetie Belle settling in across from Applebloom and grinning just as widely.

“Hello, Scoots,” Pipsqueak said weakly, flicking his ears away from her hot breath. “Not that I mind the attention, but could you please make up your mind on what gender you think I am?”

“What's the fun in that?” she asked, giving his shoulders a rub before lifting herself off and plunking herself down right across from him. “What if I think you're cuter as a mare than as a stallion? Is that so terrible?” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes and thumped her friend on the shoulder, but Scootaloo shrugged it off and just turned her smile back to Pipsqueak.

Well, his life was getting weirder than it had been an hour or so ago. He'd stepped into the middle of something back there in the bowling alley, he was sure of it. Even if nopony else at the table was aware of it.

Pinkie Pie poinged up, yodelled her latest song about baking, delivered a pair of cupcakes split down the middle with scoops of ice cream in between, and then vanished as quickly as she'd shown up. It was all part of the Sugarcube Corner experience and all four ponies both expected and appreciated it.

When the three mares turned back from the performance, Pipsqueak took a deep breath and decided to tackle the issue, hoping to pull it out of hiding. “I'm missing something here, aren't I?” he asked, as Pinkie's dust-outline pranced about before disappearing in a puff.

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “Nah. We just went bowling today to get Scootaloo to cool off a little. She's been needing to burn off energy since she got home from the racing circuit last week. Havin' a real job like the rest of us now is just killin' her.”

“My routine's all off,” Scootaloo grumbled, digging in with her spoon before her ice cream could melt too much. “I can't go flying for six hours a day here in Ponyville. Well, I can, but it's weather work and not speed laps.”

“She's been runnin' hot for days,” Applebloom added. “And it don't help that we aren't all as free with our time as we used to be. Sweetie's barely been able to keep her in check.” She ignored her friend sticking her tongue out at her. “So you came along and she got all fired up. Maybe you can drag her to your Twilight Time later and let the Princess put her to work or something. You'd give the both of us a break. ”

Pipsqueak sighed in regret. “Wish I could. Princess Twilight and the others are away from Ponyville right now on a Mission of Friendship again.”

Raising her head from her snack, Scootaloo scowled cutely. “I knew that. Rainbow Dash isn't here to push me like I'm used to.”

“See?” Applebloom squeezed his shoulder. “You ain't missin' anything. Scoots is just all het up.” She looked across at her friend. “You need to get laid or something. That'll wear you out good.”

Scootaloo raised her shoulders a fraction of an inch, as if putting any more effort into her shrug would have major consequences on her health. “Oh, sure. I'll just grab Sweetie Belle, go home, and bang her through my cloud bed.”

Pipsqueak was grateful he didn't have a float with him, because he was sure he would have spat it all over a hotly-blushing Sweetie Belle after hearing that. They both had white coats, which made embarrassment that much more visible than darker ponies. “Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . ”

Scootaloo smirked at him. “Little too much information there?”

He nodded.

“Hey, I saw the way you were looking at me back in the bowling alley. You know, before I started saying you were one of the prettiest mares I'd seen in ages.” She set her forearm down on the table and gave a purposeful little flex. “So, do you like what you see, Pipsy?”

Now he was about to put his hoof in it. But as sexy as she made herself, Pipsqueak had his self-respect. “I'm not a stud service, Scoots.”

“Course you're not,” she scoffed. “If anything, I'd be servicing you. Trust me, you can't knock me up.” Scootaloo scooped the last mouthful of cupcake and cream into her mouth and swallowed, licking her lips. “See, I'm all about the mares, dude. But you're kinda setting something off in me that makes me think you'd be the first colt I'd even consider.” She sighed and flexed both arms this time, showing that they rivalled Applebloom's in muscles. “However, and I can't stress this enough, you'd be my mare, not the other way around.”

Pipsqueak chuckled a little at that, but it petered out when neither Sweetie Belle nor Applebloom joined in. He felt a sudden void open up in his stomach, equal parts trepidation and curiosity. Scootaloo was hot, really, and being the first colt ever in her would be amazing, but there was just something in her mood that gave him a little bit of a scare. In a good way, though. Maybe there was a way to keep his self-respect and still indulge her. And himself.

Scootaloo tilted her head, maybe sensing what he was feeling. “You know how it usually goes down, yeah?”

He nodded. He'd been behind the barn once or twice before with very enthusiastic and feminine partners. Everypony had had a good time, for what it was worth.

“Well, with me, it's a little different. And before you start reconsidering your stud service, let me show you.” She glanced around the bakery. There were no other ponies present except the four of them, plus Pinkie Pie somewhere in the kitchen, judging by the sound of singing and the crashing of muffin tins. Then she reached beneath the table and Pipsqueak felt her fingers fumbling for his. "C'mere," Scootaloo murmured, snagging his hand and sliding it carefully between her knees. "Don't panic, mm'kay? I'm trusting you with this. Just ... here.." His fingers stroked along her leg and she breathed out, shifting in her chair as she squeezed her strong thighs against his wrist, guiding him higher . . . and then his palm caressed something through her sweatpants, making his ears flick right back.

He knew a sheath when he felt one.

Scootaloo inhaled again and let his hand go, but he didn't pull it back right away. Both of them were half-hunched over at the table and he looked into her violet eyes as he traced the outline of her groin. Then he shook himself and snapped upright. He could feel the heat in his face again.

“Nopony else knows,” she whispered. “Except a couple of Cutie Mark Crusaders . . . and now you.”

Pipsqueak swallowed hard and —as much as he had tried not to during the day — looked at her chest more closely. The sports bra had her breasts encased, but there were some curves there, although very slight. She was still a mare. Just . . . “Might I ask . . . how?”

“Well, it could be that one of Applebloom's old Twilight Time potions didn't do what it was supposed to do.” Scootaloo leaned back and began ticking off on her fingers. “Or, if you believe Diamond Tiara, I'm just a colt pretending to be a mare and should just admit it. Or I'm a freak of nature who was born with it. Maybe it's a Pegasus thing. Or Luna's got a weird sense of humour when it comes to inspiring ponies. Or I fell into Poison Joke the other month and it's taking forever to wear off. Oh, or I'm a changeling. Can't forget that one.” She shrugged. “One of them is true. It's cooler if I don't tell you which, just to add to the mystery.”

He looked over at the others, who both shrugged. “Hey, she's our friend. We ain't givin' away her secrets,” Applebloom said.

“Not when we're in on them.” Sweetie Belle blushed at that. “Uhh, yeah. Trust me, it's real. She's real.”

This was all too much, too fast, so Pipsqueak closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Maybe that meant they were dating, or perhaps they'd just had an every-colt's-fantasy slumber party where pillows were tossed and fillies got naked. And right now, it wasn't important. The filly —well, mare — that he thought was so butch was actually packing a sheath. And she was offering to . . . well, do things to him, probably involving his own equipment and hers together. It was very confusing. And just a little exciting.

“You okay?” came Applebloom's quiet voice, right up against his ear.

He nodded, not ready to open his eyes yet.

“It's okay if you're curious, y'know. My brother always said bein' curious wasn't a sin.” He felt her hand begin to rub his back and his breathing eased up, the tension lessening. “I was curious, too, but it took just one look for me to be all satisfied.” She snorted, almost nickering at him. “You're looking like you might be eager for more than just a glance. And that's okay, too. Scoots is willin' to take you on.” Her chuckle ruffled his ear. “Jes' make sure she plays fair with you, okay?”

His ear flicked up and that and he opened one eye to look at her. “You mean . . .”

“Don't let her hog all the fun.” Applebloom shot a look across the table. “You get what I'm talkin' about, Scoots. You slot one home in him, you're lettin' him have a go at your round little rump, too.”

Scootaloo sulked, looking put-upon. “Fiiiine. But Sweetie Belle's gonna be there, too. She can take one for the team.”

Pipsqueak's ears twitched and he squeezed his eyes shut once more. It was a mental image he was having a very hard time not imagining, Scootaloo kneeling over him, grinning as she thrust home . . . and his attention refocused on his surroundings as there was a thump and a yelp from across the table as Scootaloo got whapped again.

“Says who?” Sweetie Belle sounded half-amused, half-intrigued, which was precisely the way he was feeling at the moment. “I'm coming with, all right, but I decide which of you I'm rolling over on.”

Applebloom just kept rubbing his back, as if she knew how much of a struggle he was facing. “S'okay, Pips. She's somethin', I know. Just think of it like learnin', but for your body. Like Twilight Time.” She laughed. “Sort of a 'Scootaloo Summit', huh?”

“Scootaloo Symposium?” Sweetie Belle suggested, sounding doubtful.

“Seminar,” he said, opening his eyes again and finding a way to grin. “Definitely seminar.”

Scootaloo growled at all of them and crossed her arms. “When I get home, I'm looking those words up.”