After School Special: Shutterbug

by Your Antagonist

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance
Length: 5991

Featherwight confesses his feelings to Scootaloo, and gets far more than he anticipated in return.

Featherweight Loves Scootaloo, But what's a shy young colt to do?
Far to nervous to give confess obsession, he settles on photographs and depression.
One day the fates smile wide, and allow him a chance to show what's inside.
On the premise of a photoshoot, he plans to confess his feelings absolute,
But once he steps inside her door, he gets a little more than he bargained for…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-06-09 00:54:02 UTC

The Camera Loves You Almost As Much As I Do

Warning/ Disclaimer: The following story contains depictions of sexual acts between two (if I may be so bold) consenting  and animated, equine minors. If this offends you, welcome to the internet.

After School Special: Shutterbug

By: Your Antagonist

The Camera Loves You Almost As Much As I Do

This is it Featherweight, today’s the day. The plucky young colt adjusted his posture and held his head up high. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, you are going to talk to her, and that’s that. Yeah! Nothing’s gonna stop me today, because I’ve got nothing to lose! The colt stood on his hind legs and threw a few jabs to the air to give himself an extra burst of confidence in hopes it would help him strengthen his nerves. I gonna go for broke! I’m gonna shoot the moon! I’m gonna— I’m gonna... gonna... uhh...It only took a brief glimpse of the orange fur from that most beautiful of fillies to force Featherweight to completely lose his cool, instantly rendering him a gibbering mess of incoherent thoughts, labored hesitant breathing, and slurred inept grammar. However, Featherweight wasn’t discouraged in the slightest by his dazed and dumbed demeanor. He’d actually anticipated this shortcoming of his and decided to absolve it into his plan of attack. At the very least it would contribute to his nervous charm, and he certainly had an abundance of nervous charm.

“Hey, Scootaloo, what’s up?” Is what the colt said in his mind. But in all actuality he made a sharp, gurgling noise accompanied by slurred incoherent gibberish. “Blasphglth bluh?” Well, it’s a start I guess.

The filly gave even less of a reaction than he hoped, as she simply smiled at him, unblinking and full of curiosity, her normally focused and determined eyes sunken into gaze of vacant interest that still shone with her usual exuberance.

Come on Featherweight, you made it this far, you’ve got hold it together! Quick, regain your composure! The young colt heaved out a massive sigh, and filled his lungs with a breath of fresh confidence. A new vigor resonated through his being as he stomped a hoof to the ground, establishing his determination to confess everything to the filly who continued to stare vacantly through his physical declaration. Alright, how about I start out with a compliment? That’s a good way to break the ice. What do I compliment her on? Her wings? Her eyes? Her ears? Are ears an acceptable compliment? Featherweight gave the object of his affections a quick once over and determined everything about her to be perfect and worthy of compliments. His only problem being that he hadn’t prepared any compliments for this occasion whatsoever. Oh Celestia, what do I do? What do I do? Uh.. uh... “Nice gums!” Idiot... well let’s roll with it... “They look remarkably... pink today, I’m impressed you don’t have any hay stuck in them.” I really should’ve stopped when I was ahead. The colt made a mental note to facehoof when his stint as an blubbering fool had run its course.

Scootaloo however only took the remark in stride and continued to beam wordlessly at the colt, so if nothing else, he still had her interest. All right let’s do this, no more dilly dallying around, let’s close this deal. After a moment of contemplation and fiddling his hooves, Featherweight shut his eyes, and unloaded with both barrels. “Wouldyoumaybeyouknowwannahangoutwithmesometime, Scootaloo?” That’s the way, do it direct! Probably should have slowedit down too.

As he waited for the filly to make her decision, Featherweight began to fluff his own ego for doing such a great job. Thataboy champ, there’s no way she’ll be able to say no after a stellar performance like that! Now all we have to do is— A sudden convulsion originating from his stomach caused him to jerk his head forward, yet he felt it throughout his entire being. Uh-oh. Not now, oh please not now. Another convulsion assaulted his body, and he stumbled over his hooves clumsily, grimacing as an unpleasant sensation began to crawl through his throat. Come on, hold it together, hold it together... uh-oh, I can’t hold it! I’m gonna— “Hulp!” I’m gonna— “Blargh!” In that instance, Featherweight could only clench his eyes as he felt and tasted his breakfast from that morning come rushing painfully out of stomach, before liberating itself from his mouth. Ohhh... I can’t believe that just happened— oh no, oh no, oh no.

Opening his eyes, he saw the end result of his nervous outburst, and immediately regretted his decision to have brightly colored cereal for breakfast that morning. Plastered upon Scootaloo’s face, sat the former contents of Featherweight’s stomach, in all of its multi-hued glory. Oddly enough the filly continued to grin vacantly through the experience. “I...I’m so sorry Scootaloo, here let me wipe you off!” Featherweight turned around to search for a handkerchief, but caught his hind-leg on the puddle and slipped,  muzzle-planting hard into the the ground below. Only mere seconds behind his folly he heard a resounding crash from behind, and groaned as he realized what had fallen. With a defeated sigh, he turned around to find his prized photograph of Scootaloo soaking in the puddle amidst several glass shards from the frame it once sat inside.

“Aw, how am I gonna practice talking to her now?  I worked really hard to take that picture too,” he grumbled under his breath as he stared sadly at the photograph which had begun to dissolve, slowly but surely losing its vibrant coloring as well as its consistency. “If I keep blowing it like this in practice, I’ve got no shot of talking to her face to face.” With a dejected sigh, he trotted past the puddle of his shame and failure on the floor, and seized his empty camera and loaded a fresh roll of film into it. Nothing else to do but snap another one. It’s alright, this only makes it what, the twentieth time? Maybe I should just stop beating around the bush and confess to her. At least that way I could finally end this. The colt revelled in the concept of just opening his heart and presenting it to the filly, and managed to enjoy the epiphany before the harshness of probable negative outcomes decided to rain on his parade.

In one outcome he saw himself executing his admission flawlessly, only to have his feelings chewed up and spat back at him by a simple response that could be worded in so many different ways, each more soul crushing and destructive than the next: “Sorry, but I just don’t feel the same way.” In the other potential realities, he failed just as miserably if not worse than he did in practice, and he was certain the real Scootaloo wouldn’t take too kindly to wearing his breakfast over her wonderful perfect orange coat, and that unruly yet still cute purple mane— gah! What am I doing? I need to get my head out of the clouds and into some bushes so I can snap a photo without her seeing me!

With that, the colt rushed out of the door to his room and galloped down the stairs of his house, stopping only to give a rushed farewell to his parents before he broke into the Saturday morning air of the Ponyville streets, which were for the most part vacant. The only active population at this moment consisted of the few shopkeepers who couldn’t afford to not work through the weekend and had to set up extra early, but, luckily for Featherweight, these individuals were few and far between, so nopony bothered him as he threw himself into some nearby bushes and pulled the surrounding foliage around himself, completing his camouflage.

Featherweight pulled out his camera and began making adjustments, ensuring that the flash was off and the focus was near perfect. Once he was satisfied with the settings, he moved himself into a steady position and began scanning the streets with his camera. Okay, now we wait... With the patience of a sniper, Featherweight sat in those bushes from mid-morning to early afternoon, watching the crowd of Ponyvillians grow from a trickle into a full on stream filled with familiar faces going about their Saturday morning.

In the first hour, he spotted Sweetie Belle galloping down the street giggling gleefully,and assumed that Scootaloo and Applebloom would be right behind her. Raising his camera, he was disappointed to find that the unicorn filly had neither of her fellow crusaders in tow, but instead was being followed by an exhausted-looking Pipsqueak. It was odd, but he noticed the two of them had been spending a lot more time together recently, but then again it was none of his business, so he resumed scrutinizing the streets.

Another hour passed and he spotted Applebloom darting conspicuously from cart to cart, poking her head from behind every so often as though she were trying to catch a glimpse of someone without being seen herself. Further up the road, he saw the filly’s most likely target in the form of that purple dragon who lived with Ms. Sparkle in the library. He only wondered why she was stalking the dragon for the most fleeting of moments, before returning his focus to the Scootaloo hunt.

As his wait continued to drag itself out, he was treated to another odd sight in the vain of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, who were trotting along the road with small blushes growing on their faces and one’s tail entwined around the other’s. While the temptation to jump out of the bushes and follow the pair in hopes that he would find a new story to feed the Foal Free Press was beginning to look preferable in comparison to sitting in a cramped bush for the rest of the day, Featherweight had a mission, and come Tartarus or highwaters, he was going to get that picture of Scootaloo.

Three more uneventful hours of Featherweight’s life slipped away and there was still no sign of Scootaloo. She’s probably off doing something productive today... He thought to himself as he struggled to escape the bushes that had sheltered him only mere moments ago. Featherweight took a moment to grieve silently for the expired hours of his Saturday, when suddenly his stomach began to gurgle. Well, it’s about lunch time, and it doesn’t look like she’s going to show up anytime soon. Featherweight thought as he began picking branches and leaves from his mane.I suppose I could stop by Sugarcube Corner and—

“Hey, Featherweight!” Featherweight froze midway through his impromptu grooming as his mind attempted to register the voice.

Oh Luna, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.

“What’s up?” The overly-ecstatic voice gushed again, startling the colt into whipping around quickly, causing him dropped his camera and jaw simultaneously as he laid eyes on the source of the sudden outburst. A brilliant orange coat, lush purple mane, challenging purple eyes, and a flawless smile greeted him all at once, somehow sapping his energy and composure in the same gambit.

I...uhhh... I... I... Hey,Scootaloo! You idiot!  If you’re going to stutter at least do it out loud! “I... hello, Scootaloo.” I... I did it! I managed to say hello and not faint for once!

The filly quickly averted her attention to Featherweight’s fallen camera, awe and intrigue slowly sliding across her features. “Hey, cool camera!”

“Umm... thanks?” Featherweight began shrinking away shyly.

Scootaloo bit her lip in irritation, an action that went unnoticed by Featherweight, who began to feel nauseous suddenly.  “Soooo...” Scootaloo began “I bet you’ve taken a lot of cool pictures today!”

“Well, no...” Featherweight cautiously picked up his camera and began backpedaling hesitantly. The filly he adored was making a legitimate effort to talk directly to him of all ponies, and he felt absolutely unworthy of such an honor. If nothing else, the rampant gurgling of his stomach would make sure that he understood that he was certainly not prepared for it.

Scootaloo frowned at both to his verbal response and at the fact that he seemed as though he was deadset on retreating from her, but she wasn’t about to allow him to get away, especially since she’d pushed herself this far. “Aw, I thought you’d have lots of interesting shots since you’ve been hiding in those bushes since this mor— I-I mean, for such a long time!”

Wait, what did she just say? Featherweight opened his mouth, despite the risk of potentially drenching his beloved with the remaining contents in his stomach, but before he could get a single word in edgewise, Scootaloo was already preparing her next line of questioning.

“Well, I guess that means you still have lots of film left, right?” Scootaloo moved even closer to colt who now found himself trapped between his crush and the bush that had once harbored his questionable intentions.

“Y-yes.” Featherweight began searching around for a new egress route, but much to his chagrin, he couldn’t find any means of escape which was something he envied about the contents of his stomach, which seemed like they were preparing to burst from their sickening confines for the second time that day.

A small blush began to spread across Scootaloo’s face, rendering her normally determined features soft and somewhat pleading. “Well, I was just wondering if you... you know...” The filly’s face completely flushed bright red, and she shut her eyes as tightly as she could before letting loose with both barrels. “Do you wanna do a photoshoot with me?”

Wait... what? That feeling of nausea faded away just as quickly as it had settled in, replaced by confusion as Featherweight began mulling over her proposal in his mind.

“Okay, there I said it! So are you going to say yes or what?” Scootaloo looked flustered and irrationally frustrated, her wings buzzing out of sorts frantically as she eyed and scuffed the ground nervously.

D-did she just ask me that? Was she blushing? Featherweight nervously eyed Scootaloo’s cheeks to confirm his suspicions, and wound up captivated by the majestic innocence they possessed. Too cute to say no  to... too nervous to say yes...  this isn’t fair... “I—” Choose your next words carefully. “I, uh, er—” Seize it, this is your moment!“Sure.” Well... that was easy... stupidly so...

Scootaloo heaved a sigh of relief before her face lit  back up with excitement. “Really? You’re awesome, Featherweight!”

Featherweight’s heart skipped a beat for a moment as everything right with the world seemed to settle into place for the elated colt. She called me awesome.

“Come on!” Scootaloo turned and began galloping merrily down the street.

Just a word of advice, you should probably follow her... like,now. Featherweight took off as fast  as could behind Scootaloo, but quickly found that the filly was in vastly much better shape than himself as he struggled to keep up. Well *huff* she seemed quite *huff* happy about this, so I guess I should *gasp* try my best to *heave* make the most of this *heave* opportunity and  maybe I’ll find the  *gasp* courage to confess to her! The enamored colt’s face began to grow hot from both exhaustion and fantasizing about his dream filly’s potential acceptance of his feelings. Huh, looks like she’s stopping in front of that house, finally a break.Panting, Featherweight allowed his gallop to slowly degrade to a trot as he neared Scootaloo, who hadn’t even broken a sweat during their short run.

“Alright, we’re here!” Scootaloo exclaimed.

“Where exactly is here, Scootaloo?”

“My house of course.”

H-her house? I get to have a private photoshoot with Scootaloo at her own house? I’ve never even been inside a girl’s house before! Am I dressed properly? Do I—

“You coming in, Featherweight?” Scootaloo called from her doorway.

Hey, earth to Featherweight, she’s talking to you. “Oh, uh, yeah! Hold up a second!” Featherweight dashed inside Scootaloo’s house with no further delay, and was taken aback by the exotic decorum that adorned the walls and shelves of the living room. Artifacts and art pieces ranging from Chineigh to Zebrabwe were strewn  tactfully about the room, giving off the impression that the inhabitants of the house were well traveled and cultured individuals. “Wow, this room is.... just wow,” Featherweight exclaimed in awe.

“Yeah, isn’t it cool?” Scootaloo said proudly.

“What do your parents do?”

“I don’t know exactly, but they’re always out traveling, so I’m pretty much here alone most of the time. Anyway, follow me so we can get started.” Scootaloo began to trot up a set of nearby stairs, and Featherweight could have sworn he saw a spry grin creep across her face before she disappeared into the upper level of the house. Featherweight wanted to peruse the gallery a little longer, but decided that following Scootaloo was arguably more important, and thus dashed up the stairs after her.

At the top of the stairs there sat one door covered in various caution and keep out signs and it was ajar only slightly. Thinking nothing more of the jestful warning signs, the colt nudged the door open and poked his head inside only to be greeted by a flying pillow that impacted with a light Puff on his face before plopping softly to the ground. “You’re late,” Scootaloo huffed playfully with crossed forelegs from atop her bed. “Well, come in, close the door behind you, and come up here.”

Featherweight, unsure of whether or not Scootaloo was serious or messing with him, nervously closed the door behind him and took in his new surroundings as he trotted cautiously to her bed. The walls of Scootaloo’s room were plastered in posters of the Wonderbolts and a few pictures of herself with Rainbow Dash that she had blown up to match the other posters in size. The floors of her room were covered in various stuffed animals in the likeness of manticores, and hydras, along with several parts and tools for her scooter. With a hop, a skip, and a jump, Featherweight nervously climbed onto the bed and began fumbling with his camera. I... I’m on... a girl’s bed...  keep cool, just keep cool. “S-so, S-Scootaloo, w-what—” Featherweight swallowed back a lump that had begun to grow in his throat. “—what type of photoshoot did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe... y’know, since you’ve got a lot of experience with photography... you could pick the poses?” Scootaloo was now blushing bright red, and her wings started to flitter involuntarily.

“Oh, okay,” Featherweight rubbed the back of his neck uncertainty. That little bit of express permission was the equivalent of throwing a socially awkward manticore in a sheep’s pen for the colt.  “Well, I guess we could start with you sitting down and smiling at the camera, that one seems like a good place to start.”

Scootaloo wordlessly complied and sat down on her haunches, eyeing the lens with a coy pout as she awaited the much anticipated camera flash.

A slight mechanical Click quickly followed by a bright flash, signified the immortalization of this moment in time, as well as the completion of Featherweight’s goal from earlier this morning.

“How was that one, Featherweight?”

“Lovely...”

“What was that?”

“I-I mean that picture is going to be lovely when it finishes developing.”

“Oh. Well, what other poses do you have in mind?”

Featherweight began to wonder just where the line was for Scootaloo and decided to test his luck. “You could lay down on your side and—” Don’t you say it,  don’t you say it. “Sway your tail a little bit?”Well, can’t fault you for not being brave.

Much to his surprise, she followed his instructions to the letter without arguing or questioning his preferences. Her violet eyes narrowed ever so fiercely as if she were trying to pierce through the camera lens and into the soul of its wielder. Her tail, on the other hoof, began painting the air with playfully unfocused strokes of candescent brilliance.  With another mechanical click, Featherweight seized another moment of his beloved Scootaloo’s youth and simultaneously released some of his nervous inhibitions in an ironic trade of some sort. In that one moment, the nervous atmosphere between the two shattered, and something new permeated the air, inspiring and corrupting Featherweight’s thought process in the same instant. It was in this instance that he decided to test the limits of the filly’s passivity with a slightly more risque pose.

"What do you want me to do next?” Scootaloo inquired, her voice almost a throaty purr.

“Lay on your back....”

“Like this?” Scootaloo asked innocently as she rolled over, never breaking eye contact with the camera. Featherweight began to drown in her gaze, but managed to regain himself long enough to indulge in the novelty of the situation. I can’t believe Scootaloo is just letting me order her around like this, if this is adream, please don’t ever let me wake up.

“Now grab one of those pillows, and hold it close to your chest...”

Scootaloo reached slowly for a pillow that was monogrammed with a Rainbow Dash cutie mark, and began cradling it to her chest tightly. Featherweight clenched his jaw taut to help maintain his focus as he prepared for his final instruction regarding this pose.

“Now,” This is it.....“I want....” ‘I want?’ How assertive of you! I’m not even sure if this is the same colt who was hiding in bushes this morning. Well, go on speak your mind. “I want you to bite the edge of that pillow.”

Scootaloo slid the corner of the pillow to her mouth and bit down upon it firmly, a small blush gliding across the upper portion of her face.

Featherweight didn’t hesitate to snap another photograph, but as the flash illuminated this moment to be captured in time, a strange stirring overcame him eliciting new feelings that he had become familiar with in recent months, but had no clue how to handle. His breathing became heavier as a certain protrusion of his lower body made its presence quite evident. The once-emboldened thoughts in his mind began to seem childish and irrelevant as a feral urge ingrained itself in his thought process, and persuaded him to start trotting closer and closer to the still-prone filly.

Scootaloo took note of Featherweight’s sudden change in demeanor and threw the pillow to the floor, a devious grin creeping across her lips. “So, Featherweight, how do you want me next?” Scootaloo batted her eyes innocently as the colt drew closer. “I’ll pose however you want, just tell me what you want.”

Featherweight stopped in front of Scootaloo, who was beckoning him closer with a wave of her hoof, and removed his camera, throwing it gently to the side as his instincts and imagination took over. He took a moment to breathe out any remaining hesitation from his being, and moved carefully between Scootaloo’s spread hind legs, advancing slowly so he could position his body evenly with her own. He struggled for only a moment longer before his eyes finally locked with her own, and she giggled in response.  He  closed his eyes and leaned forward, lips quivering as they sought after Scootaloo’s own, and after a moment, the two were joined together in the warming caress of their first kiss. Or so Featherweight thought.

“Ummm... Featherweight?”

Wait a minute... how is she talking if my lips if my lips are on hers?Featherweight opened his eyes and groaned as he realized what he was doing, horribly horribly wrong.

“That’s my eye.” Scootaloo giggled softly as Featherweight’s face turned a fiery shade of crimson. “You wanna try that again?”

“S-sure.” Featherweight swallowed back another nervous lump in his throat, and leaned forward again, only this time, he felt Scootaloo’s hooves seize him by the cheeks as she guided his eager lips to hers. From the moment they met, Featherweight was overtaken by an overwhelming feeling of warmth and security that cascaded into their next kiss and so on. He was being driven insane by the tantalizing softness of her moist lips with each meeting, and it took him completely by surprise when Scootaloo’s tongue ventured forth, experimentally prodding and poking around in his mouth. Instinctively Featherweight pursued her, slowly becoming a marionette to his basest impulses, his rough tongue gliding along her delicate build with a firm yet gentle force, savoring his beloved’s taste with each pass. His urges, which had been forgotten up to this point, were growing more intense and harder to ignore with each kiss that transpired.

Unsteadily and uncertainly, he followed the lead of his bizarre drive and began moving his hips closer to hers, his emboldened member itching and aching for some form of relief from its feral burden. And then, he found it. His erect tip had made contact with its penultimate destination, evoking an infatuated and nervous squeal from Scootaloo, who had taken to covering her face shyly with her forelegs. Featherweight took note of Scootaloo’s body language, and almost panicked. “I’m sorry, Scootaloo. Did I do something wrong?” he asked frightfully.

Without removing her hooves from her face, the filly shook her head wordlessly in response to his question which put him at ease almost instantly.

“So, can I keep going?”

Scootaloo didn’t move for a moment, and much to Featherweight’s surprise, she removed her hooves from her face and looked at him with her entrancing purple eyes before she shot her hooves around his neck, and pulled him close once more locking her lips to his furiously in response. Featherweight brought his hips closer, and he could feel a pleasant enticing heat radiating from between her legs. With another push, he positioned himself back into the spot where Scootaloo had given such a big reaction, only this time it was wet with some warm fluid that felt rather pleasant and satiating against his member. He focused his attention on Scootaloo’s expression, her violet eyes clenched tight as he pressed a little further into his newfound shangri-la, wild sensations rocketing through his body, driving him to delve ever deeper into her being.

In that same instance, Scootaloo’s body was being ravaged by a sharp pain she couldn’t comprehend, and yet something in the back of her mind coerced her into believing that she wanted this. She squeezed Featherweight ever tighter into herself, her wings buzzing about erratically as he slid deeper and deeper into her, and that pain, while once horrible, began to erode gradually, unearthing a fountain of rich new sensations, and stirring within her strange new appetites for which she had no words to describe. As Featherweight hit the limit of his advance, his wings unfolded themselves and curled in ecstasy. In that instant, he almost buckled under the pressure of the magnificence of  the moment, but a meek voice captured his attention and inspired him to stand and deliver. “More...” Scootaloo moaned weakly, the erratic flapping of her wings calming down, becoming much slower and more rhythmic.

“What?” He asked, leaning down to hear Scootaloo better.

“I said more...” Scootaloo moaned even louder this time, her voice almost pleading, and Featherweight couldn’t very well ignore that request. He pulled his hips back, and pushed his length in again, and was rewarded by a low growl of delight from the filly.

 “Do it again.” She commanded.

Featherweight obliged his partner’s request and pivoted his hips into her moist warmth again, only this time when she moaned, her voice was more direct, demanding and to the point.

“Faster!”

Featherweight’s body began to move almost autonomously, as if his actions from this point on were specifically orchestrated by his mind to follow Scootaloo’s commands.

“♥~Uhn~♥ This feels ♥~Uwa~♥ great, but I ♥~Ohhh!~♥  want to try ♥~Ahn~♥ something ♥~Kya~♥”

Scootaloo moved her forehooves between herself and the still furiously pumping Featherweight, and with all the might she could muster, she shoved him off of herself, and onto his back. Never one to slouch while on the uptake, Scootaloo was already straddling Featherweight as his vision caught up with him.”I want to try being on top!”  Placing her hooves on his chest, she lifted her flank in the air and brought it down slowly upon his throbbing, wanting member. As he started to rub against her heat, she came down far too quickly, and failed the insertion as a result. “Oh, uh, let me try again.” She sputtered, embarrassed by her mistake. Rising up again, Scootaloo maneuvered herself so that she was hovering over his tip, and slowly lowered herself again still missing the entrance.  “Rrrggg.... why was it so easy for you?” She began maneuvering him by hoof into herself, making slow but steady progress, that frustrated her natural inclination towards instant gratification, but teased Featherweight whose eyes began to roll into the back of his head. With one final bounce, a warming sensation overcame the two simultaneously as Scootaloo took in every inch of Featherweight. “♥~That’s more like it...~♥” she cooed.

“I’ll... I’ll say,” Featherweight concurred through the excruciating pleasure.

“♥~All right, here goes~♥” Scootaloo leaned forward on her hooves and rose herself up before gravity pulled her back down, and a wave of delight traversed her every nerve ending. “♥~Ooohhh~♥ Having fun down there? ♥~Ahn~♥  Got your heart racing yet? ♥~Yes~♥”

Featherweight could only nod and wince as her pressure came crashing down on his hips, sending jolts of electric passion down his spine. He looked up at Scootaloo as she rode him, and marveled at how lucky he was to be alive at this moment. He drank in her visage, his mind picking at and emphasizing every detail he could from her sweat-glistened orange coat, to the current unruliness of her naturally unruly mane, their entwined tails, her breathing, her moaning, that look in her eyes, the small blush that lingered on her cheeks. There wasn’t a single thing about this moment that he wanted to miss, and fortunately for him, his camera was right by his head. He grabbed it and trained it on Scootaloo as she threw her head back revelling in the  pleasures of her flesh. Click! The flash went unnoticed by Scootaloo whose mind had begun to blank throughout the ordeal due to an strange new swelling that managed to make its presence known over everything else coursing through her body at the moment. Featherweight felt something new stirring within himself as well, a strange heat he couldn’t explain or comprehend, but he couldn’t resist or fight, not that he wished to for that matter.

What is this? It feels... so... so... Featherweight couldn’t collect his thoughts through Scootaloo’s increased grinding and bouncing, as he neared his final destination for this little venture. Oh, Celestia, this feeling, I can’t describe it! Featherweight clenched his eyes, and dropped his camera  as he neared the strange new occurrence, but it halted suddenly when Scootaloo stopped her bouncing, whipped her head back, and whinnied “♥~I’ve always loved you Featherwe~ig~ht!~♥”. Her whole being shuddered for a moment before she wound up falling flat on Featherweight, body still convulsing as the intensity of her first orgasm began withering away into her muscle memory. After another wave of convulsions, the filly rolled off of Featherweight and was fast asleep

Featherweight however was ultimately confused and unsatisfied by the odd occurrence that never was, but ultimately he was too distracted by his own quandary to care.  ...What just happened?...He took a moment to glance at Scootaloo who was still shuddering adorably next to him, and only more questions came to surface as the blood circumnavigated back into his brain. Did she just say she loved me? And this morning... when she said she thought I’d have a lot of interesting photographs from hiding in the bushes, does that mean that she was watching me? Also— Featherweight’s inner voice trailed off as Scootaloo turned and planted a kiss on his lips before nuzzling against his neck sleepily.Well, I guess I can dwell on those thoughts later. He maneuvered a foreleg under Scootaloo’s neck, and the filly swooned closer. Right now, I just want to be with her. Featherweight closed his eyes and nuzzled Scootaloo. Exhaustion took its toll on the pair, whisking them off from the land of consciousness and into the realm of dreams.

Later

Featherweight woke up in his own bed, confused and skeptical as to how he’d even gotten there. Everything in his room was exactly how he’d left it the day prior save for the puddle of vomit and the broken picture frame which had somehow cleaned and mended themselves in the time that he was out cold. It suddenly dawned on him that neither event had ever occurred in the first place. Wait a minute... then that means... oh no, oh no. Featherweight scrambled out of his bed and towards the dresser where he kept his favorite camera on display. He snatched it from its stand and frantically pried open the film compartment, heaving a massive sigh as he did so. It’s empty. Well, I guess that dream was a little too good to be true. I guess I’m back to just being some loser that doesn’t even have the guts to talk to a filly as awesome as Scootaloo... sigh, may as well get some practice for my future failures...

“Featherweight!” The colt heard his father call from the hallway.

Well, first things first I suppose. “Coming, Dad!” The colt galloped into the hallway where his father was waiting with a firm scowl and a manilla folder tucked away under a wing.

 “Son, we need to talk.”

“Sure dad, what’s up?”

“Well, after your filly friend dropped you off yesterday, late might I add, I uh... took a look inside your camera and took the liberty of developing that roll of film that was in there.”

Wait, a roll of film? So that means yesterday wasn’t just a dream! Yesterday wasn’t a dream! Oh wait... if yesterday wasn’t a dream then.... uh-oh.

“Son.” Featherweight’s father looked Featherweight directly in the eyes.  "I just want to tell you—” his father looked left and right to ensure that the coast was clear from the lady of the house. “I’m proud of you son, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, dad?”

“Well, your mother was in one of her moods again, and I was in one of my moods, so I decided to handle some business in the darkroom, and I got some my personal pictures mixed up with yours... look son, let’s just sayI may have gotten some accidental use out of these if you catch my drift. Honest mistake when you’re in the heat of the moment.” He handed the folder to Featherweight who took it with a grain of confusion. “Good work, son. I hope to see that young lady at the dinner table sometime you hear?” The father gave his son a prideful pat on the back and began the journey back downstairs in search of a mug full of coffee, the Sunday Edition newspaper, and a nag-free hour away from his wife.

In his wake however, he left behind a very puzzled Featherweight who only lingered on his father’s last words for a moment longer before discarding the thought and returning to his room.

Once inside, Featherweight tore open the manilla folder, and nostalgia from the night prior flowed forth as his eyes danced giddily across the pictures, but something stood out among the pile of photographs. Featherweight leaned down and inspected a small piece of parchment that had found its way into the folder, and began inspecting its contents only to discover that it was a letter from Scootaloo to himself. A letter containing nineteen words that would put a grin upon his face for days upon months, upon years and decades to come.

To Featherweight,

As of today, or yesterday, depending on when you read this, I claim you as my very special somepony.

Deal with it. See you at school.

Scootaloo.