Bimbo Trixie

by ppg1998

Rating: mature
Tags: Equestria Girls, Human, Romance
Length: 15896

Sexy Bimbo Trixie

Sexy Bimbo Trixie

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-08-10 20:03:10 UTC

Chapter 1

Events in this story occur at the same time as those in Ms. Harshwhinny's story (http://pastebin.com/nDLXmCtD) and (will serve as) a bridge to the Trixie story. Nothing much here, just plot and character development.

The building of Canterlot High is changing. Bit by bit, tile by tile, an encroaching menace stretches its muscles as rooms change color from drab greys, whites, and tans, to bubbly reds, purples, and of course pinks. It hasn’t spread very far, just a handful of rooms and portions of halls flooded with unexpected color, but the result is a sort of hodge-podge, do as you will appearance that makes the school seem unfinished; as though a renovation were presently occurring and the workers just, left. While unusual, the students generally don’t think too much of wandering through the pink hall where the Nurse’s office sits as they make their way to class.

Generally.

“That’s why I’m telling you it’s serious,” Trixie whispers to her friends, holding up a finger and scowling as she looks between them, “I know what I saw that day in the infirmary and now I need to prove it.”

Lavender Lace crosses her arms over her chest and does her best not to roll her eyes. Trixie was something of an oddity at the school; she had a presence about her that drew students in, but on the other hand she was just really weird. Like today, when she claimed that there was a reason behind there being so many ditzy bimbos at the school, and that Nurse Redheart was in on it somehow. Lace didn’t like the nurse either, but she wasn’t about to accuse her of something so fantastic. But Trixie wasn’t about to let this go, so Lace decided to humor her.

“So what do you need us for?”

“Right?” the plucky redhead beside her chips in. Fuchsia Blush bobs her head twice and rubs her thumb against her chin. “I mean, we’re not exactly a crime solving team; we’re just a band of musicians. This isn’t a Hannah-Barbera cartoon you know. Unless you’ve got a talking shark or dog that we don’t know about…”

The two girls share a thoughtful look before turning their attention to Trixie. While it was an impossible request, their fearless leader has certainly proven herself weird enough to have something like that in a closet somewhere. But, with a shake of her head, the girl with the blue and white hair sighs.

“No you goofs! But if we get in there, maybe we can find out what’s happening to the school.”

“If anything at all,” Fuchsia grumbles, Lace nodding in agreement.

Puffing out her cheeks, Trixie extends her hand down the hall and huffs, “Don’t you think it’s weird that there’s giant swaths of pink in the school? Doesn’t that seem out of place?” The sidekicks exchange uncertain looks before nodding in time, encouraging their friend further.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I saw a girl in the infirmary change into a bubbly bimbo before my very eyes. Something in there’s responsible for that and, if I’m right, that could mean that all the ditzy girls walking through this school could be tied to that.”

“She makes a good point,” Lace frowns, tapping her foot and pursing her lips, “I mean, none of the other schools have to deal with weird bimbo-approved dress codes.”

“And the Principal was there too? Do you think she’s in on it?” Trixie bobs her head twice to Fuchsia’s questions.

“I’m sure of it; she was the one holding the girl. Sparkle was there too.”

“Ugh,” her lackeys groan, rolling their eyes. In an instant, Trixie is on the defensive, her forehead creased in frustration.

“I-I’m serious! Don’t give me that look just because Twilight’s involved. There is something seriously sinister going on in this school!”

“All right, all right,” Lace waves off her friend before she blows a gasket. “We’re on board, but only until it’s clear that nothing’s going on.”

Fuchsia nods as well, shivering. “Yeah, I don’t want to get caught on Nurse Redheart’s bad side. Let’s make this quick.”

With the three students in agreement, they make their way towards the bathroom to wait out the bell. When it finally rings, they remain inside for another five minutes before sneaking out and starting the trek down towards the Nurse’s office.

The halls of CHS seem to stretch on a little longer than usual without the usual dull roar and hubbub that accompanied the presence of their peers. As the trio makes their way across the tiles, Lavender and Fuchsia begin to distance themselves from Trixie and begin to talk in low voices.

“Twilight, again?” Lace groans, closing her eyes. “I’m beginning to think Trixie’s a little obsessed with her.”

“Well, she does have good reason to be suspicious. It’s not every day that you run into a being from another world.”

“Yeah, but-” both girls wince as Trixie’s boot hits the ground a little too loud for their liking. Their fearless leader gives a sheepish grin over her shoulder before continuing forward as the blonde continues. “But she’s beginning to seem a little obsessed.”

Furrowing her brow, Fuchsia bites her lip then asks, “D’you think it has something to do with Flash?”

“If that was the case then a lot more girls in CHS would be gunning for a way to knock Twilight off her perch.”

The redhead smirks a little, raising an eyebrow in an unspoken question that gives her friend pause. Outside of beating Sunset Shimmer for the Fall Formal, Twilight is not an especially popular girl, in fact if the Battle of the Bands had proven anything it was that there is a great deal of animosity towards the Rainbooms, and perhaps Twilight in particular. Not to mention the crazy rainbow magic lightshow that always seems to come with her. Could it be that there was a push to take the pony-turned-human out of the CHS hierarchy? And beyond that, what was she doing back at CHS anyway?

“Girls!”

Trixie’s hiss manages to interrupt the blonde’s train of thought and drawing both girls’ attention to the wannabe magician crouching by the door. While not following her example to the letter, both Lace and Fuchsia find themselves hugging close to the garish pink wall as they approach their friend. After a quick peek inside, Trixie grimaces.

“Curses, Trixie thought that the nurse would be away at this time of day.”

Exchanging another look, both companions sigh and resist the urge to say anything. Trixie was undoubtedly falling back into her stage persona if she was referring to herself in the third-person. While generally tolerable, when she gets it into her head that she is both Great and Powerful, Trixie tends to be more than a little overbearing. Tapping a finger against her lip, Trixie gives her friends a look.

“Obviously we need a distraction to get her out. Who wants to be bait?”

Before Lace can declare ‘not it’, Fuchsia raises her hand, “I’ll do it Trixie. How long do you need?”

“Just five, maybe ten minutes is all that Trixie needs,” the crouching girl mutters, peeking inside the room again and sneering. “Ugh, she’s such a bimbo.”

“That’s fine,” Fuchsia grunts, stretching her arms high over her head. A slender girl through and through, she’s certain to be running track once spring rolls around and has the slender but powerful muscles to prove it. Grinning, she rolls her neck once and gives it a good pop. “It’ll be a good refresher for pacing myself against someone else; not that that high-heeled airhead is going to be much of a challenge.”

With a firm nod, Trixie turns to Lace and tugs her into an enclave in the wall. The space is more than large enough for both girls, Trixie’s twiggy body taking up hardly any space, while the only slightly more robust Lace rests her supple backside against the wall. Giving them a wink, Fuchsia rounds the corner and knocks on the door. Both girls strain their ears against the wall, but can only hear muffled sounds of the conversation happening on the other side. After a moment or two, there’s a loud squawk from the nurse and the sound of feet pounding against the tiles, quickly followed by the short, menacing click-clack of high heels in hot pursuit.

Fuchsia rushes by the hideout, not taking her eyes off the hall in front of her; a determined smile on her face and something held tight in her right hand. The girls hold their breath as Redheart zips by as well, the woman’s face contorted in frustration and anger as she calls for Fuchsia to stop running. Her coat billows out behind her like a white cape, revealing her lacy black and pink underwear, and everything it struggles to contain, for the whole world to see. As the sounds fade, Lace and Trixie exchange smiles before slipping out of the hole in the wall and sneaking into Redheart’s office.

The smell hits them like a truck as soon as they enter the room. It isn’t the sterile scent of antiseptic, but a softer, more flowery odor with a touch of fruit to boot. A candle towers over in one corner, the flame flickering as it licks at the air, flooding the room with the pleasant smell. The lights are kept low, and gentle music plays from somewhere behind the sheer curtain now separating the office from the patient beds.

After taking the whole scene in, Lace turns to Trixie and frowns, “Well we’re here; now what?”

“Trixie needs a moment,” the fearless leader grumbles, rubbing her chin and thinking back to what she had seen just a few days prior. She had only come in part of the way through and been treated to a lusty and expanding experience as she watched the strange girl with the tri-color hair shift and change before her very eyes. Not to mention the special attention that Nurse Redheart had been giving Twilight.

Clenching her fist, Trixie bites down on her lip at the thought of her most hated rival, Twilight Sparkle. She isn’t entirely sure why, but something about the girl just rubs her the wrong way. In part it’s due to the attention that she gets from other students, but perhaps more than that it’s that Twilight, no matter what she does, seems to be indispensable and always comes out on top. In everything.

There’s a momentary pause as Trixie glances down at her rather flat chest and sighs. She couldn’t compare to Twilight in that regard either; although if her thinking was right, then Twilight wasn’t naturally so busty. If that were the case, then there might be a way to set things right.

“And then Trixie will be the talk of Canterlot High,” the self-absorbed diva grins, rubbing her hands together as Lace rolls her eyes. Reaching out, the blonde grabs her by the shoulders and gives a little shake.

“Trix, focus and remember why it is that we’re here. Eventually that beast of a nurse is going to lose interest in Fuchsia and come back here; we need to be gone before then.”

Snapping out of her daze, Trixie murmurs, “R-right, of course.” Scrunching her face up in thought, she thinks back to what had been scattered around the room at the time. “There was a discarded syringe by the bed, so maybe it has an injection component?”

The two girls glance over towards the work counter and move over without another word. Papers scatter and beakers clatter as the duo being searching for some sign of the cause of the strange occurrences at CHS.

===

“Y-You’ve got to be kidding me!” Fuchsia pants, her arms and legs still pumping as she hurries through the halls. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she squeaks in surprise as she sees that the diminutive nurse is still keeping pace with her, perhaps even closing the gap! Redheart’s legs move in short, almost invisible strides, the clicking from her heels against the floor sounding like a locomotive tearing down the track. Jerking her head back to the front, the redhead groans. “I should have known that a bimbo would be able to run in heels.”

“Fuchsia Blush!” the sound of her name causes the girl’s skin to break out in goosebumps, every single thin hair below her neck seeming to stand on end as Nurse Redheart calls after her. “You will return that device to me at once! And then I will escort you to detention!”

Crap, she’d been found out! Gritting her teeth, Fuchsia glances down at the small, rectangular box in her hand. There was a vertical switch with ‘intensity’ listed along the side, and two buttons: one for ‘on’ and the other for ‘off’. Wracking her brain, the redhead’s eyes light up as it finally dawns on her what this device may be.

“It’s a remote vibrator!” she laughs, grinning from ear to ear. What a stupid bimbo, leaving something like this just lying on her desk? Glancing over her shoulder again, Fuchsia smirks at Redheart and winks. “Well, this has been fun Nurse, but I’m afraid this is the part where I leave you in the dust!”

With a flick of her wrist, the confident track girl presses the ‘on’ button and waits to see Nurse Redheart drop like a load of bricks. Only, nothing happens. If anything, it seems to spur the pink haired woman on further, closing the already small gap between the two of them.

Panic settles into Fuchsia’s belly as she tries again and again to press the button, without a result each time. Even pushing the switch up and down fails to slow the oncoming pink whirlwind. Hissing through her teeth, the redhead clutches the device in her hand and tries once more to pour on the speed and lose the nurse before she’s overtaken.

It would figure, she thinks, that this would be the one time Redheart didn’t have something jammed up inside her. Even still, Fuchsia’s feet all but fly off the ground as she leans further forward, trusting her knowledge of the vacant halls to guide her. A few sharp turns would throw the top-heavy woman off balance, and then she co-

“Woah, watch out!”

The redhead looks up at the sound, spotting Ms. Cheerilee standing in the middle of the hall. Fuchsia grunts, trying to plant her foot at an angle that she might juke around the almost amazonian woman. Unfortunately, she happens to find a slick spot in the floor. With a yowl of surprise, Fuchsia goes careening into the young teacher, her face bouncing off the bimbo’s outrageous bust and sending her sprawling out onto the floor. To the teacher’s credit, she doesn’t budge an inch, even in her towering heels.

While she is still shaking off the stars, a rather flush Cheery peers over the fallen student with a frown. Reaching out, she takes Fuchsia’s hand and helps her to her feet, saying, “Whoopsies, looks like you had a bit of a spill. Sorry about that, but you should be more careful where you’re running.”

Fuchsia gulps for air, bobbing her head and moving to make a break for it when Nurse Redheart crashes into her back, burying her face once again in Cheery’s chest. The redhead gives a muffled cry of protest as she feels the nurse’s equally large breasts grinding into her back and wrestling the control from her hand. After releasing it, Fuchsia feels Redheart pull away and takes an unsteady step back.

“Hold her,” the nurse says in a cold, flat voice, which Cheery jumps to obey. As she’s turned around, Fuchsia struggles against her giant of a captor wtih Redheart glaring daggers at her all the while, until she shakes the device into the student’s face. “Do you have any idea of what you were doing, you little brat?”

Cheery gasps, once again knocking her chest into Fuchsia’s head. “My vibe control! I totes thought you were playing a mean game on me again Red, but it turns out it was a student.” A small laugh escapes the woman’s lips as she tightens her grip on Fuchsia’s wrists. “I guess it’s a good thing I was leaking all over the floor then on my way to see Red. I helped her catch a troublemaker.”

“Th-then, that stuff I slipped in was…” Fuchsia glances between the two bimbos who smirk and nod.

“Bingo.”

“You got it, sweetie!”

“Oh that’s so gross!”

A frown graces Cheery’s lips, as though she were wrestling with the idea of how gushing girlcum could be construed in any way as ‘gross’. While still staring at the bimbo teacher, Fuchsia suddenly feels a gentle prick in her neck. She gasps, turning her eyes towards the nurse, who simply smiles and puts a finger to her lips.

“Calm down now Fuchsia.”

In spite of the terror trying to take hold of her heart, the redhead can’t help but hear the words echo over and over in between her ears. Calm, right. The girl’s breathing begins to relax as her lungs fill with air again. Her vision swims as the diminutive nurse rolls her shoulders and sends her jacket into a heap on the ground. Unhooking her bra, Redheart smiles and pulls Fuchsia Blush’s head to her chest, sliding a finger behind her ear and scratching gently as she murmurs to her.

“Now just do what comes naturally.” The redhead nods, her lips parting and beginning to suckle on the nurse’s nipple. She didn’t realize how parched her mouth was from running until the milk hits her tongue. With a plaintive whimper, Fuchsia reaches up and places her hand on either side of the creamy orb, her eyes rolling back as she feels the warm liquid fill her mouth, her brain sliding into the comfortable whiteness as well.

The gentle, affectionate touch continues as Redheart whispers, “Now we’re going to set a few things straight, so I want you to answer a couple questions for me. If you’re honest, then I promise this whole ordeal will be painless. You might even have a little fun.”

Fuchsia’s eyes roll up towards the two bimbos, the nurse with a motherly smile and the teacher looking absolutely ecstatic. How can she think of running away when the two of them look so happy? She bobs her head, luxuriating in the soft sensation of being caught between the two bimbos and the fuzzy feeling washing over her entire body.

“Why did you come by my office?”

“Eff waf tryinf…”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Redheart says as the girl struggles to talk around the nipple between her lips. Fuchsia considers her options for a moment before resting the hard nub against her lower lip and speaking up to the nurse.

“I was trying to distract you,” she mutters before turning her attention back to the nurse’s nipple. The wonderful sensation coursing through her body centers in her lower body for a moment and Fuchsia can feel her jeans become tighter around her muscular thighs as they seem to swell outwards. The seams give a small creak of protest and then fall silent. The student closes her eyes as Redheart gingerly slides her fingers through her hair, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Atta girl,” the nurse purrs. “Now didn’t that feel nice to be honest with me?” As Fuchsia nods, the feeling gathers itself again, this time altering her calves. The growth doesn’t stop until her legs look like she poured herself into her jeans that morning, which isn’t far from what she remembers.

It might be vain, but Fuchsia loves her legs. They’re undoubtedly her best feature and she loves showing them off; tight pants for a tight lower half. As the tingling spreads back through her body, Redheart pulls the girl’s head away from her chest and smiles.

“Now, tell me what was so important that you needed to distract me.”

“Trixie,” Fuchsia says without a second thought, a thin line of milk pooling at the corner of her mouth as she gulps. “She thinks you’re up to something, something with all the bimbos in the school. Trixie and Lavender wanted to take a look inside your office to see what they could find.”

The gap between her thighs shrinks yet again as denim struggles to maintain its hold over a pair of gams too massive to be comfortably contained. So they shift instead into a knee length skirt which slowly begins to ride up and reveal more and more skin as time goes on. Fuchsia feels a rumbling in her middle as her already firm body hardens further, her flat, girlish belly beginning to give way to the muscle underneath.

Redheart grins, placing an arm around the girl’s shoulder and leaning in close. “That’s it, my little tart-to-be, you know you can trust me with anything.”

Fuchsia nods, her bangs dangling in front of her face as her hair begins to grow out. It was true; the nurse was someone that she could trust. She knew what it’s like to be sex on legs, how difficult things could be; how needy. Seeming satisfied with that, Redheart looks to Cheery and raises an eyebrow.

“You have anything you want to add?”

“Yuppers!” the chipper teacher says with a grin, surprising her friend. After a moment of thought, the nurse shrugs and motions to the girl as if giving her permission to do as she wishes. Cheery doesn’t miss a beat, leaning over at the waist and wrapping her arms around Fuchsia’s middle. The girl makes a small sound as she feels the too tall teacher’s breasts press into her back.

Cheery’s so huge and glamorous, like an obscene big-tit fetish model seeped out of some teenage daydream and started walking the halls. She was strong too, stronger than Fuchsia. The redhead bites her lip, feeling increasingly envious of the bimbo teacher’s perfect body as her miniscule chest beginning to swell.

“You were pretty mean earlier,” Cheery says, though she doesn’t sound the least bit perturbed, “with all that about how gross it was to slip on my cunny juice?”

The redhead nods, remembering well the rather awkward realization that she had unwittingly played a role in her own capture. If she hadn’t been fooling around with that buzzer…

“So,” Cheery continues, interrupting the girl’s thoughts, “I was thinking that it would be nice for you to know what it feels like. So I’m telling you that I know you gush when you cum.”

Fuchsia’s face goes red as she whimpers, crossing her ankles and forcing her large thighs together as her memories begin to shift and change. How had she known, she did so well to keep it quiet? It wasn’t the fact that Cheery had creamed all over the floor that had made Fuchsia so anxious, it was that she was so entirely accepting of it; as though it were perfectly natural. But it wasn’t, right? The now self-conscious girl hugs her middle, gulping and glancing back at the teacher.

“P-please don’t tell anyone, okay? I think I could just die if anyone else found out.”

“Shh.” A gentle touch to the cheek quiets the anxious girl in an instant. The slick lacquer of Cheery’s purple nails is cool and slick against the redhead’s face. “It’s okay hon; I just want you to know that that’s a part of you. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, especially not when it makes you feel so good.”

Gulping, Fuchsia nods and tries not to think about the conversation too much. Sure it was embarrassing, but like Miss Cheerilee said, she can’t stop herself either. The sensation of her own fluids regularly running down the inside of her thighs, tracing thin lines down her taught muscles, is enough to drive her crazy. Another affectionate pat on the cheek from the tall teacher lets her know that she has nothing to fear; Cheery understands where she’s coming from. She knows what it’s like. Envy is quickly replaced by adoration as Fuchsia gives a lazy smile up at the teacher. She could trust her to keep her secrets.

Clearing her throat, Redheart crosses her arms under her chest and grins. “Excellent work Cheery, I don’t think I would have thought of that.”

“Hee, thanks Red!” the bimbo squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet and hugging Fuchsia’s head to her chest once more. “I just wanted Ms. Blush to know that it’s totally okay to be a gusher.”

Living up to her name, the redhead gulps and resists the urge to bury her face into Cheery’s breasts. The nurse gives a smirk and, with a hand cocked on her hip, tilts her head back down the hall.

“Much as I’d like to stick around though, we need to get back to my office before those girls get away. I trust that you can handle the rest while I go ahead?”

Snapping a finger up to her forehead in a lazy salute, Cheery winks and declares, “We’ll be right behind you!” As the nurse nods and walks off, Miss Cheerilee places a hand on Fuchsia’s hip and begins to walk her down the hall. The girl’s legs are still unsteady and so she rests her head against the teacher’s chest, making the quiet words she whispers to her all that much more effective.

“You’re a tart, a girl who gets off on teasing. Watching boys squirm because of you is one of the greatest feelings on Earth. You’re a teasing tart; you love to make people uncomfortable…”

Fuchsia’s eyes flutter closed as she soaks up her new role like a sponge, her shirt creaking in protest as her beasts swell into a pair of modest handfuls.

===

“Did you find anything yet?”

“Trixie is trying her best, but most of the points of interest seem to be locked.”

Lace sighs and hurries across the room to Redheart’s desk. With a little bit of digging, she finds a drawer that will open with a firm tug. The contents of the drawer clatter loudly, causing Trixie to glare over at her friend, though the blonde seems to be confused by something within. As the would-be magician moves over to her, Lace picks up a medicine bottle and holds it up at eye level. Even in the dim red and pink light, the liquid within seems to glow with an eerie neon pink light, causing Trixie to pause and gawk as well. After a moment, she gulps.

“In Trixie’s opinion, that is what a bimboizer formula would look like.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong there,” Lace mutters, spinning the bottle between her fingers. “There are four in the drawer, including this one. You want to take it?”

Trixie nods her head and frowns. “It’s the only way to be certain of what we’re dealing with. Once we find out what that is, maybe we can find a way to counteract it.”

The blonde nods and pockets the bottle before slamming the drawer shut. This time both girls wince and look at one another. It might not be much, but it certainly is a better lead than they had when they walked into the room. Even Lace is beginning to wonder if Trixie might not be onto something with this theory of hers, even as the blue and white haired girl grabs her hand.

“Come on, let’s go catch up with Fuchsia and get her up to speed.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” a calm voice says from behind them. Turning on the ball of her foot, the color drains from Trixie’s face as she catches sight of Nurse Redheart standing between them and the hall, a grin splitting her slutty features.

Caught red-handed, Trixie gulps and glances over to Lace. The blonde is putting on a strong face, though her hands maintain an anxious tremble. Even as they consider making a break for it, Ms. Cheerilee peeks around the corner as well and waves.

“Hi girls!”

“Hi, Ms. Cheerilee,” they both mutter. Behind the two adults, Trixie can just make out Fuchsia wobbling from one side to the other. So much for the track star outpacing the bimbo. The aspiring magician raises an eyebrow as Cheery leans over to support her friend, her lips moving as though she were whispering something into the redhead’s ear.

Before Trixie can consider this further, Redheart walks into the room, her heels clicking as she approaches them. Her plump lips pursed into a thoughtful pout, she glances between the two of them before smiling.

“Now, what to do, what to do?” she mutters, tapping her chin. “The obvious route would be to send both of you to the Principal’s office.”

Trixie’s blood runs cold at the mention of having to go see either Celestia or Luna. While she can’t be certain about the latter, she had been quickly convinced that the former most certainly is a part of what’s going on at CHS. If they were sent to her office, there’s no telling what might happen! As Redheart grins, her expression suddenly falters. Trixie feels it as well, a gentle buzzing in the back of her mind that passes as quickly as it comes, although the pink haired nurse looks far less pleased with herself as she considers her other options.

“But it’s not as though you hurt anyone, though my office is a mess.” She strolls over to her work station and sighs, surveying the cracked bottles, scattered papers and tossed cabinets. Shaking her head, she fixes them with a glare, “Much as I’d like to punish you with a visit to the Principal, it’s more appropriate to send all three of you to detention for the afternoon.”

Could this be salvation? Trixie bites down on her tongue to keep herself from smiling. As the moment drags on, Redheart looks ever more frustrated. Finally she sighs and moves over to the phone, angrily punching in an in-school number. After a handful of rings, she speaks.

“Winny? It’s Redheart.” There’s a lengthy pause in the conversation as the nurse sneers into the phone before snapping back, “I’m surprised you can come up with insults over the sound of your biological clock roaring in your ears.”

Vindicated, her smile returns and she glances over at Lace and Trixie. “I’m sending three girls down to your room; I caught them snooping around my office and they ended up breaking some of my equipment.” Another pause in the conversation and then she smirks, “You do that. Give them a good one for me too.”

The phone rattles back into the cradle as Redheart sits herself on her desk and looks between the two girls. “All right, one afternoon detention. Let this be a lesson to all of you that we take this sort of thing very seriously at CHS.”

“Yes Nurse Redheart,” the girls intone, turning to walk out the door. A short clearing of the throat draws their attention back to the pink-haired woman.

“Except you, Miss Lace; I have a few questions for you.”

The blonde girl gives Trixie an anxious look before turning around and walking back to the nurse. Not-so fearless leader hangs around a few seconds more before the encouraging voice of Cheery draws her out into the hall to her other friend, leaving the young blonde alone with a still irritated nurse. The two exchange glares for some time before Redheart finally holds out her hand.

“Give it to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lace responds with a sneer. Without missing a beat, the nurse snaps her fingers and snarls.

“Put it in my hand now, or a visit to Principal Celestia will be the least of your concerns.”

The mouthy blonde flinches before pulling out the medicine bottle with a frown. She walks over and drops it into the pink-haired woman’s hand, glaring at the ground the whole while. The nurse takes a moment to spin the bottle between her fingers, searching for some sign of damage before setting it down on the desk beside her.

“That’s better. Now, Fuchsia’s told me some of what happened here today, but I’m wondering if you could expand on things.” Setting her lips into a thin line, the nurse furrows her brow and leans forward, “What were you hoping to find here?”

Biting her tongue, Lace gives the nurse a deadpan stare who glowers right back. The two engage in a stare off for several seconds before Redheart places her hands behind her back and leans away; the motion thrusting her chest up and out while causing her skirt to rise up  little. For an instant, the blonde girl’s eyes flit down to the nurse’s shapely thighs before rocketing back up to her face. But it was just long enough to bring a smile to the pink haired woman’s face.

“Well if you won’t tell me that, tell me this.” Nodding towards the medicine bottle, the nurse raises an eyebrow and frowns. “What is so interesting about that bottle there? Why did you have it in your pocket?”

“Just looking for something to swipe,” Lace smiles, the lie slipping through her bared teeth as easy as water around a rock. “I was wondering how long it would take your milk-addled brain to notice it was missing.”

The nurse purses her lips and frowns at the girl who maintains her cool composure. Eventually, Redheart gives a sigh and reaches down to pick up the bottle. Waving it in the student’s face, she asks, “So Trixie didn’t share with you any of her theories about the school?”

Lavender gulps, her eyes widening and pupils dilating as Nurse Redheart hit home with her question. A smirk dances across the small woman’s face as she continues her press, “Oh, I know all about that, Vice Principal Luna is very concerned for Trixie, going on about bimbos taking over the school.”

Before she can stop it, a nervous laugh escapes the blonde’s lips, and after a moment the nurse joins in. Both women laugh for a few seconds before Redheart collects herself and smiles. Lifting the medicine bottle, she rolls it between her fingers and sighs. “It’s a little outrageous, isn’t it? The very idea that you can fundamentally change something about a person; that you could make a mousey girl becomes a sexual bombshell overnight, it’s ridiculous, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Lace grins and shakes her head. Trixie might have some good arguments but when it comes down to it, the world simply doesn’t work that way. “When you put it like that, I don’t really see how something like that could be possible. I guess I kind of got roped up into Trixie’s delusions.”

“Oh, I never said it was a delusion,” Redheart murmurs, shifting the weight of the bottle onto her index finger. A chill runs down Lace’s spine as she stares slack-jawed at the bimbo nurse. “I just said it’s ridiculous that something like that is possible.”

“But, you,” the blonde starts, but the smaller woman cuts her short by flexing her finger sharply, sending the bottle spinning end over end towards her. Lace gives a small yelp of surprise, her hands scrambling to catch the tiny pink vial. It bounces from one palm to the other before coming to rest in her right hand. Staring at the glass bottle, Lace gulps and turns her attention back to the smiling nurse.

“I don’t fully understand it myself, which is why I was overjoyed to find out that I had some left to test with. There wasn’t enough to make any distinct conclusions, but enough that I might be able to find out more than just ‘it makes bimbos’.”

“That’s, that’s terrible,” Lace mutters to herself, shaking her head and clutching the bottle tight in her hand. “You’re running tests on students? How many lives have you ruined!?”

Crossing her legs, the nurse bounces her left foot and shrugs. “I haven’t ruined anyone’s life; in fact I would argue that I’ve made them better. But for your information, there’s only one student that I’ve bothered to inject.”

“Who?” Lace asks, leaning forward. Her shoulders tense as she looks the nurse in her eyes.

With an almost sinister sparkle in her eye, Redheart rolls her body forward and whispers, “Fuchsia Blush.”

“You, you bitch,” the blonde whispers, tearing up and gritting her teeth. “Fuchsia’s been my best friend since forever! Who the fuck do you think you are saying you didn’t ruin her life; she’s not going to be able to run with beanbag tits!”

“Language,” the pink-haired nurse frowns, only further aggravating Lavender. Closing the gap with a few short steps, Lace puts herself nose to nose with Redheart, waving the bottle off out of the corner of her vision.

“Language? You’re telling me to watch my language, you milk-obsessed skank? Don’t make me laugh; you’re a fucking disgusting animal, not even worth being called human. The things you’re doing at this school are inexcusable!”

Redheart narrows her eyes and sets her lips together in a scowl before snapping back at the student. “Why don’t you take a moment and think, Miss Lace; think about Miss Blush and how terrible her life is now.”

Even as she prepares to launch into another tirade, Lavender feels the words catch in her throat. Her mind whirrs, trying to separate history as it had been from history as it now was.

Fuchsia had been her friend since grade school; the two had been all but inseparable all through their early years. The redhead had always been a gentle tomboy sort, while she was a sharp-tongued girly-girl. An odd couple to be sure, but they were made for each other, so when Fuchsia hit her growth spurt at ten, it was a given that Lavender would follow in short order.

Only nature was not nearly as generous to the blonde. She had grown a pleasantly pleasing pair of breasts, but set against the cantelopes on her pre-teen friend, she felt slighted. The differences had become all the more pronounced as the years carried on; Lavender’s devotion to physical fitness left her with a hard but feminine body that was the envy of other runners across the school district. Every track meet she managed to turn heads and had her own devoted followers from several schools. She was always smiling, always happy.

And Lavender was just…

Clenching her teeth, the blonde brings a hand to her temple and closes her eyes. “That’s not right; none of that’s right!”

“Isn’t it though?” Redheart smiles and places her fingers under Lavender’s chin. The student whimpers a little as she feels her head being lifted and opens her eyes to find herself staring back at the nurse again. “Miss Blush is an incredibly satisfied girl at present. I’d argue that every bimbo at CHS is in a similar state of bliss.”

“B-but it’s wrong,” Lace whimpers. “You can’t just do that to someone; make them into someone else with a completely different history. What about all their hopes, their dreams? What about their families and-”

The blonde’s voice catches in her throat as she struggles to get the next part of her statement, but the words simply won’t come. As she all but gags, Redheart reaches out and rubs the space below her neck.

“Their friends?” Lace nods mutely, giving the nurse a chance to continue. “They’re still there, dear; in some cases their situation is vastly improved. Do you really think that she would leave a good and dear friend like you out in the cold simply because she’s more attractive?”

Redheart has a point, Lavender concedes, because Fuchsia had always been there beside her. The sporty bimbo didn’t mind having a more academically inclined ‘bestie’, and the two still spent an inordinate amount of time together. She had even gone so far as to try and hook Lace up with some of her fans, though they quickly lost interest in the blonde. She just wasn’t as incredible as her friend…

“Resentment.” The realization hits her like a freight train even as she mutters the word. Fuchsia might have undergone a drastic physical change, but for Lavender, the power dynamics had completely shifted. Rather than remaining in balance, she was now completely outclassed in so many ways by the bimbo athlete. They were still friends, and likely would be forever, but it’s just so difficult to continually be second-rate; especially when Fuchsia was so wonderful, kind, and completely oblivious to the fact that her very being was causing her best friend pain.

“I hate you,” Lace whispers, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “I hate you so much.”

“Shh,” Redheart murmurs, hugging the frustrated blonde to her chest. Despite wanting to pull away from the terrible woman, Lace can only sob and shake, her limbs feeling heavy and leaden as she buries her face deeper into the nurse’s chest. After a short stint of rocking and back rubbing, Nurse Redheart places her hands on Lace’s shoulders and pushes her back into a standing position.

“You can change all that,” the nurse says softly, the sparkle again in her eyes, though it was seeming less devious now and more inviting. “I’ll give you the chance to set things straight with Miss Blush.”

Redheart’s eyes dance down to Lavender’s right hand. The blonde unconsciously flexes her fist and feels the still cool glass pressing into her palm. Gulping, she shakes her head, her voice trembling as she whispers, “I-I can’t do that.”

“But you can,” the nurse says with a knowing smile. “The question is, will you?”

That was true. She did have the power at present to set things right. With this bottle, Fuchsia wouldn’t feel so far away; Lace could forget this awful feeling frustration that she felt towards her friend. They could be on equal footing again.

But what about the cost? She knows from experience that the bimbos are more than a little disliked and looked down on as being stupid, air-headed, sex-obsessed; all the qualities of a good little beach bunny. And doing so would put her other friends in the same position that she was now in with Fuchsia. She didn’t want to hurt them either. So then-

Groaning, Lavender lifts the bottle and glares at it. The pink fluid glows with a gentle light. She was thinking too hard, she realizes; this isn’t a decision to be made lightly, but neither is it one to dwell on. Did she want to stay in her present relational balance with Fuchsia or not?

Redheart leans closer as she watches the girl’s face soften. Lavender’s close to making her decision; she just needs a little push to make it the rest of the way. The nurse clears her throat and holds out her hand, palm up, and flexes her fingers twice.

“You’re fine Miss Lace, hand it over.”

The blonde glances between the bottle and the extended hand. And then she shakes her head.

“No, I, don’t want to. I want, I want to be a bimbo!”

Marvelous. Nurse Redheart opens her mouth to offer to inject her when Lavender reaches down and tears the metal top loose. Without wasting a moment, the student brings the bottle to her lips and throws her head back, gulping down the glowing pink fluid. She coughs and hacks, bringing her fist to her mouth as she glances over at the stunned nurse.

“W-what?” she finally croaks.

“It’s, ah, an injection, dear,” Redheart mutters. “You’re not supposed to drink it.”

Gulping, the blonde glances down at the empty bottle. “So, what’s going to…?”

A sudden gurgling erupts from the girl’s stomach. Lavender winces and begins to bend over to clutch her middle, but the nurse is quick to her feet and helps the now stumbling student over to one of the beds. Sprawled out on the enormous mattress, Lavender whimpers, feeling ever smaller as another jolt runs through her body.

“Is, is it supposed to hurt?” she whispers to the nurse scribbling away at a pad of paper.

“Only for a brief moment; any second now you should be…”

At once, the pain disappears and Lace feels her jaw go slack as a fuzzy warmth settles into her limbs; like her whole body was submerged in gelatin. Her lips part with a surprisingly lewd smack, but she can’t manage to form the sounds necessary to speak. Nurse Redheart hovers over her and, seeing the glazed expression finally crossing over the blonde’s face, she smiles.

“There we go, isn’t that better?”

A lazy blink is the best that the stuffy student can manage, but it’s enough for the bimbo. Smiling to herself, she pulls up a seat beside her and begins sliding her fingers through the blonde’s hair. Lace gives a breathy sigh, even as she feels her golden locks tingling with new growth.

“Such a good girl when you calm down,” Redheart murmurs. Lace’s eyes grow heavy and begin to sink as the now distant voice of the nurse echoes down to her ears. “We simply must do something about all that mouth of yours though…”

Chapter 2

Tragedy. Glancing over her shoulder again, Trixie can’t help but feel guilt welling up in her gut as she watches the brilliant, blonde headed Lavender Lace squares off against the diminutive and devilish Nurse Redheart. While they had no proof, there is an anxious sense of uncertainty in the air. What would happen? Would Lace get in trouble? Why, it was all her fault, right?

Shaking her head, Trixie finally tears her eyes away from her blonde friend, stepping out of the Nurse’s office and coming face to chest with the the teacher towering over her. Ms. Cheery gives a happy smile and waves.

“Okay Trixie, let’s get the two of you settled in at Winny’s class.”

“What about Lavender,” Trixie says with an uncertain frown. “Trixie isn’t about to leave her behind to be-”

“Calm down,” the bimbo laughs, waving her hand in a tired, almost disinterested manner. “Your friend is going to be fine; Red’s just going to ask a couple questions. Now come on.”

The magician-to-be purses her lips and glances past her curvaceous captor to the rather pale Fuchsia Blush. Leaning heavily for support on Ms. Cheery’s arm, the leggy runner struggles for air as she offers a wry, apologetic smile. With a click of her tongue, the white haired girl crosses her arms and turns to face down the hall.

“Very well; take Trixie to her punishment.”

Cheery grins and leads the girls through the school that they had been so eager to sneak through just a short while ago. After tearing her eyes away from the teacher’s ridiculously long hamstring length hair, Trixie glances over at her friend again.

Some color has at last returned to the girl’s face and her breathing is slow and steady as she stands under her own power again. Aside from the obvious exhaustion, Fuchsia doesn’t seem any worse for wear; her well proportioned feet leading up to generously long legs and a pair of muscular, meaty thighs that wouldn’t have been out of place on a volleyball player, but served to add to the otherwise slender girl’s charm.

As though sensing her friend’s gaze, Fuchsia glances over at Trixie and offers a wry smile. She then takes an unusually long stride, her scandalously short thigh length skirt to ride up and reveal just a hint of her tight backside. Color rushes to Trixie’s face as she jerks her eyes away from the marvelous combination of leg and tail, but looking into her friend’s eyes again, she can’t shake the feeling that it might have been done on purpose.

Before she can question the flirty girl, Cheery turns and knocks on the door to Ms. Harshwhinny’s class, grinning the whole time. “Winny! We’re here! Open up!”

There’s an obvious grunt of irritation from the other side of the wall and the familiar click-clack of heels approaching before the door swings open. The thickly proportioned MILF on the other side glares at the bubbly bimbo, her icy eyes seeming to drop the temperature of the air around them just by staring. Trixie gapes at the blonde’s ridiculous rack, a momentary skip in her memory suggesting that the massive mammaries were somehow out of place. Fear grips the girl’s gut as she considers again the possibility that things are not exactly as they seem to be.

“Please don’t call me that,” Ms. Harshwhinny sighs, the sound snapping Trixie back to reality. The rather tired looking blonde places her thumb and forefinger against her chin, resting her arm on and against the gigantic globes dominating her chest in the process. “So, these are the two students that that little harlot couldn’t handle on her own? I’m somewhat disappointed.”

Ushering the two students inside, she points over towards the desks at the front of the room. The girls quietly move where they’re told while Ms. Cheery carries on as though she hadn’t heard any of the snide comments about her friend.

“Aw, c’mon Winny, don’t be such a sour puss. Most boys don’t like stuff that makes their face pucker up.” Ms. Harshwhinny rolls her eyes and sighs, earning a delighted giggle from her air-headed co-worker. “Oh, that’s right! I have to tell you about what happened last week.”

Despite her irritation, the blonde leans in a little closer to listen to Cheery’s voice as it drops to just above a whisper. The bubbly bimbo was excellent at preying on shy, uncertain boys; boys who frequently fail to cross her correctional path, so her stories were often radically different than Harshwhinny’s own experiences. And the ditzy teacher’s lurid details about the size of their dicks and how much they filled her belly always manages to get a rise out of the blonde.

And so, while the teacher talk in hushed tones, Trixie leans over and tries to catch up with Fuchsia.

“So what happened?” she whispers. Fuchsia’s head rolls about lazily, her ear very nearly pressed up against her shoulder as she stares at Trixie; as if it were too much trouble to keep her neck straight. After a moment of silence, she shrugs.

“Y’know how I said I could outrun Nurse Redheart because she was in heels?” Trixie nods her head, and Fuchsia gives a weak smile. “Well, I guess I underestimated how much practice a bimbo has in heels.”

“She was that fast?”

“Mm, but she had a little help from Ms. C.”

Noting her friend’s confused expression, Fuchsia holds up one of her hands with her index and middle finger pointed downward. She begins shifting them back and forth in a mock running motion before lifting her other hand and having the running fingers crash into her palm, even throwing in a small explosive sound effect for good measure.

“Well that does it; I’m convinced that both of them are in on this plot. Neither of them are normal,” Trixie grumbles, glancing over at the two teachers. Perhaps she should bump that number to three, considering their current situation. The white haired girl shifts her thighs together as she begins to settle down, catching the faint whiff of something sweet and flowery lingering in the air.

“Yeah, they’re special,” Fuchsia chips in, a dreamy smile on her lips. Leaving her momentary reverie, Trixie turns to question her friend further when Cheerilee’s voice returns to a more normal volume.

“Well, that’s enough about bareback for now. Red’ll probably bring the other girl by shortly. But bye for now girls! Remember what I told you, Fuchsia!”

“You got it, Miss C,” the redhead laughs, rolling her head back around towards the door and waving. With a happy hop, Cheery hurries back down the hall; her big bottom bouncing along in time to a beat echoing between her ears. After the teacher is out of sight, Ms. Harshwhinny closes the door and turns back to her charges, wearing a dark smile.

“Now then,” she purrs, strutting over towards the front of the room. Trixie tenses as Ms. Harshwinny sits down on her desk and crosses her legs at her ankles, the blonde’s sharp eyes glancing over the somewhat squirmy student before clicking her tongue in disapproval. “I must say that I’m rather disappointed that you have to be here. But the important thing is that you are here and thus able to learn from your mistakes.”

Tumultuous

Trixie nods while Fuchsia continues staring off into space. Ms. Harshwhinny’s displeased expression doesn’t change, even with the chilly reception. “For those of you who haven’t been here before, or have simply forgotten, I run a very tight ship. If you act out of sorts, you will be punished appropriately. If you want to avoid punishment, then you must behave as young women ought, not as little hellions or easy girls who spread their legs for anyone. I teach discipline, and you will learn it.”

As if to punctuate the point, the blonde teacher reaches forward and smacks her ruler against Trixie’s desk. The student jumps, suppressing a small yelp of surprise as she keeps her eyes locked on the older woman. As such, she misses the spark of pink that seeps into the surface of her desk. By the time Trixie finds her nerve again, the gentle glow of magic has already vanished from sight and begun to do its work.

It isn’t much, just a single touch of magic. But it’s enough to make the girl, who had resolved herself to not moving for the entire length of her stay in detention, begin to squirm in discomfort. Not a bad sensation, certainly not from the pleasant buzzing between her legs, but certainly unwelcome considering the situation. As she shifts her weight from one side to the other, Fuchsia leans over and whispers to her.

“You look a little tense there, Trixie.”

“A little,” she admits, her eyes darting up towards Ms. Harshwhinny. The stern teacher has already moved from her post, now sitting behind her desk and thumbing through her remaining paperwork. Satisfied that her attention was elsewhere for the moment, Trixie continues. “Just an itch.”

“Mhmm, thought so,” Fuchsia nods and winks, putting a finger to her lips; her slightly puffy lips, caked with pink lipstick and her eyes laden with a healthy dose of mascara and glittery purple eye shadow. So very like her, to be able to keep secrets; after all, she manages to keep her oversized breasts under wraps all through the track season.

A twinge of uncertainty rumbles through Trixie’s mind as she mulls over that last statement. Fuchsia is, and always has been, a tremendous athlete. Having breasts the size of her head would be difficult to deal with at best, and at worst she wouldn’t be able to compete at all. And yet, in her mind’s eye, the white haired girl can clearly remember supporting her curvaceous friend in competition for many years now. In fact, she’s quite popular at the meets, with admirers from all across the city wherever she goes.

With that in mind, aside from her ridiculous proportions, Fuchsia certainly fits the bill of someone devoted to keeping their body in competitive shape. The too small crop top that seems to creep ever higher, threatening to expose her burgeoning breasts to the world, does wonders to showcase her washboard stomach and maintain her firm yet feminine appearance. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, leaving enough to spill over her shoulders while spunky strands of hair from her bangs hang in front of her eyes.

Trixie watches as her friend takes a deep breath, the shirt riding up as if in response to the strain her breasts were putting on it. They jiggle enticingly while a new sliver of Fuchsia’s firm, muscular core is revealed to the world when her top settles into its new position. The redhead stretches, giving a small grunt of approval and earning a glare from Ms. Harshwhinny.

Biting her lip, Trixie struggles to fight off the swimming sensation in between her ears, and the growing ache in between her legs. She isn’t ashamed, necessarily; her friend is incredibly attractive and has a tendency to unwittingly tease those around her. Still, now is neither the time nor the place.

A quick rap on the door brings Trixie’s attention back to earth. With a shaky sigh, she watches as the blonde teacher sways over to the door and opens it, revealing the diminutive, yet bossy Nurse Redheart and the third member of their merry band, Lavender Lace. The two staff members lock eyes, and Trixie can almost swear she sees a shower of pink sparks explode between the two of them.

“Here’s the third,” the nurse says, giving the girl a gentle push into the room. Lavender stumbles forward on her clunky purple heels, the blonde leaning against one of the desks to stop herself from falling to the floor. Her medicine ball sized breasts bounce and jiggle violently at the sudden stop, heaving as the blonde catches her breath and sweeps her thick, tailbone length hair back over her shoulders. With an uncertain stride, Lavender wobbles over to the desk on the other side of Trixie and sits down hard; another tremor rumbling through her massive chest.

“It certainly took you long enough,” Ms. Harshwhinny smirks as she sees the girl make it to her seat. Cocking her right hand on her hip, she wiggles the ruler tauntingly at her side. “You weren’t coddling her like some of your patients, were you?”

Nurse Redheart sneers, and the two women fall back into their usual back and forth banter: the older woman chiding her junior for her misplaced priorities with name calling and posturing, while the younger fires back with rather lurid taunts regarding the blonde’s comparative market value. But that certainly isn’t enough to distract Trixie from the much more important matter of seeing to her friend.

“Lace, are you okay?”

“Yea, fer sure,” the blonde sighs in response, all but melting into her seat as she smiles vacantly up at the ceiling. Wetting her plump, earthy colored lips, the glossy gal sighs and glances over at Trixie. “Well, we kinda screwed the pooch on this one, huh?”

“Don’t give me that,” the ringleader of the trio makes a small hiss through her teeth. “We just need to come up with something a little more elaborate next time. If anything, I’m more convinced than ever that we have the potential for a bimbo epid-”

“As if.” Lavender Lace fixes Trixie with a cool stare before drawling, “We’re so in the dark on this that might as well be a movie theater grope-fest.”

While Fuchsia gives a girlish giggle, Trixie winces at her friend’s frank assessment. Despite being an intelligent girl, Lace hadn’t bothered to look the part for years, her quirky and sometimes saucy euphemisms the only real clue that her mind was working far faster than one would guess. No, she, like Fuchsia, had fallen prey to getting themselves gussied up around the time that they were-

“Ah,” the white-haired girl grunts, biting down on her lip and holding a hand to her head. The only thing worse than the throbbing in her head, is the increasingly persistent throbbing between her legs. Clenching her thighs together, Trixie grumbles to herself. “It, it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense anymore.”

“T? You okay?” Fuchsia frowns, seeming legitimately concerned for the first time since they’d been reunited. She goes so far as to get up out of her seat and lean over the white-haired girl’s desk, the slender, muscular rises in her arms casting slight shadows across her skin. Pursing her purple lips, she reaches out and presses a hand to Trixie’s forehead. Glancing up, the generally snarky girl sees that Lace seems upset as well, though she’s in no position to stand.

“I-I’m fine,” she finally stutters, gulping and shaking her head, knocking Fuchsia’s hand loose in the process. “It’s just that, I was so sure that I was close to something. All the bimbos in this school, how unnatural everything seems…”

As her voice trails off, Trixie feels Fuchsia’s slender fingers slide under her chin. Letting the redhead lift her head, the white-haired girl gulps as she meets her friend’s eyes.

“You’re thinking too much,” the sporty girl purrs, a sticky-sweet sound that enters into Trixie’s ears before sliding down into her throat and mouth, threatening to rot her teeth clean through. “Just relax and let us take care of everything.”

As Trixie opens her mouth to respond, Fuchsia leans down and plants a kiss on her leader’s lips. The stunned girl goes rigid as her already aching nethers seem to inflame themselves further, her friend closing her eyes and gives a quiet groan of approval. Trixie gives a plaintive whimper as she feels the alien sensation of another’s tongue in her mouth, shuddering as her eyes seem to close of their own volition.

In spite of closing herself off from the world, every inch of Trixie’s body feels electric. The fine hairs on the back of her neck brush against one another with a mixture of terror and erotic energy. She struggles for air as she attempts to process anything beyond the increasingly overwhelming flowery scent of the room, and the raspberry tang of Fuchsia’s lip gloss.

This was wrong. On any number of levels Trixie knows that this is not how things are supposed to be; Fuchsia is one of her best friends, and while attractive, they could hardly be considered that way with each other. The would-be magician’s consciousness spins as she struggles to keep her head above water, feeling the tingles lapping at her, threatening to overwhelm her.

But why? Anything that feels so delightful can hardly be considered wrong. Trixie gulps as she feels another set of hands at her knees, forcing her legs further apart. That must be Lavender, finally joining in. As though sensing the blonde’s intentions, Trixie can feel her hips shift towards where she imagines Lace to be. Just a moment, a brief moment, and everything would make sense. Stop worrying about the bimbos and let the bimbos do their work.

Bimbos…

Bimbos?

“BHIMBHOS!” Trixie yelps into Fuchsia’s lips as her eyes pop open. The redhead gawks as well, the two staring at one another for a moment before Fuchsia is shoved back by the seated student. She stumbles back onto the teacher’s desk, nearly falling over it before she manages to catch herself.

Panting for air, the Wild and Terrified Trixie looks down at the kneeling Lavender between her legs and quickly pushes her away as well. The blonde yelps and crashes to the floor. Finally free, Trixie scampers to her feet and braces herself against the far wall as her eyes dart around, assessing the situation.

It should have been obvious from the start: her ‘former’ friends have clearly been infected by the contagion that they had found in Nurse Redheart’s office, most likely when they were alone with her. Now they were little more than tits on sticks, with their vapid stares, giggly personalities, and needy pussies just waiting to be touched, teased, filled and fu-

“Ah!” Trixie yelps as she slaps herself across the face. Her breath comes in strangled gasps as she struggles to suppress the aching need in her own body for all of those things. She isn’t like them, not yet at least, as she still has a reasonable amount of control over her mental state. A quick pat down of her body reminds her that she’s still rather flat and comparatively curveless, a thought that brings a pang of frustration to the fore for a moment, and she turns her eyes towards the door.

“Of course, you would both still be there in Trixie’s way,” she grumbles, eyeing down the hyper busty teacher and the diminutive devil nurse as they stare at her. Nurse Redheart raises an eyebrow, seeming rather amused by the whole ordeal, while Ms. Harshwhinny is wearing a grin that sends a shiver of fear down Trixie’s spine.

“What a pleasant surprise,” the blonde murmurs to herself, bringing her left hand up to her cheek and dragging a talon-like nail down across the plump flesh. “I wasn’t expecting you girls to be any trouble, but a disruptive student such as yourself must be dealt with, Miss Lulamoon.”

Swinging her hips, Ms. Harshwhinny stalks back into the room, her heels clicking as she stalks towards the white-haired girl. Trixie’s eyes flit about, quickly measuring distance and space for escape routes. Getting out of the room wouldn’t be a problem, if she started moving at a clip she would be able to crash into Nurse Redheart and knock the tiny woman off her feet, if only for a moment. Then it would just be a matter of clearing the school grounds before she got up and chased her down.

The problem is the whopper wielding woman before her first. Ms. Harshwhinny’s top-heavy form takes up a great deal of space, moving across the back of the room would waste too much time, and traveling across the front of the room is dangerous with both Fuchsia and Lavender within arm’s reach. Which leaves only one reasonable opening.

As Ms. Harshwhinny continues her approach, Trixie tenses her body. The blonde smiles at the sight and takes another long step. Waiting until the middle of the stride, Trixie explodes forward; her arms and legs pumping as she rushes the teachers left side. The grinning teacher reaches out with her hand to grab the girl. If only she knew who she was messing with.

Sneering, Trixie shifts her weight, dropping down beneath Ms. Harshwhinny’s outstretched arm. Well aware of her size and how much space she takes up, the white-haired girl slides under the blonde teacher’s massive chest, moving to brush by her comparably slender hips. Praising her attention to escape tricks, the practicing magician turns her head to grin at the obviously awestruck teacher before she rushes by her and…

Smiling. Ms. Harshwhinny is smiling.

“Wh-” Trixie begins before a resounding smack fills the room, echoing off the walls as the girl loses her balance and drops to her knees. She doesn’t even feel the sting until after the sound as faded, but the sudden, sharp pain on her backside sends her into a whimpering fit when she becomes aware of it.

From the doorway, Trixie can see Nurse Redheart tut and shake her head a few times. Noting that she has the downed girl’s attention the nurse fixes her with a small smile, she chuckles and nods to the towering teacher. “Well, I guess I’ll leave this to you Winny, you seem to have things well in hand.”

“Mm, feel free to stay,” the blonde teacher purrs as she brings the thick wooden ruler down on Trixie’s backside again. The white-haired girl yelps in discomfort as another welt is added to her rump, but the older woman pays no mind to her, still focused on her rival. “I’m certain I could teach you a few things about knowing your place.”

“The day I let you dominate me is the day I retire,” Redheart quips back, giving a slight wave. “Just take care of those girls for me.”

“Oh, I will,” Ms Harshwhinny laughs, placing the toe of her shoe against Trixie’s back and pushing her to the floor. She doesn’t even notice that the nurse has already closed the door before continuing. “By the time she leaves here, she’ll be a model girl for Canterlot High School.”

Nurse Redheart chuckles at the taunting on the other side of the door. Another series of quick slaps of wood on flesh has the pink-haired woman clenching her thighs together and walking back down the hall. She fails to notice that it’s much pinker than it had been a few minutes ago, too obsessed with tracking down Cheery and having her way with her. She was stressed, after all.

Back in the classroom, Ms. Harshwhinny wets her lips and glares down at the prone Trixie. Already, the teen’s backside has five angry looking red streaks from the previous swipes of the pink ruler. Trixie whimpers, squirming under the blonde’s shoe as she feels her rump tense and relax, the back of her skirt adhering to the slowly swelling supple skin.

“What a naughty girl,” the teacher growls, sliding her ruler down along the white-haired girl’s thighs. Trixie whimpers, feeling the familiar electric sensation making her hair stand on end again, this time with a sense of shame blending in as well. There’s also something else, something she can’t yet place her finger on. As the teacher continues to tease her, the two student bimbos finally manage to collect themselves and, after a moment, Fuchsia speaks.

“Um, Ms. Harshwhinny?” The redhead flinches a little as the icy eyes of the teacher fall upon her, but she struggles forward, asking, “What, what are we supposed to do?”

Both girls look up at the blonde teacher, squirming and biting their lips as they glance between each other, Trixie, and the dominant Harshwhinny. After a moment, the blonde smirks and waves her ruler at the two of them.

“My issue isn’t with the two of you, so feel free to engage in a paired study session. Just leave me to do my work.”

Fuchsia nods, but as she turns back to Lavender, she gives a small yelp as the blonde student forces her girly thighs apart and buries her face into the redhead’s snatch. Squealing at the attention Lace is giving her, Lavender leans back on the desk and lets her friend go to work.

Across the room, Trixie tears up as she watches her friends go down on one another. The plan had been to find out what was going on in the school, and they certainly have managed to do that. But now, her friends were reduced to such a state. And it’s all her fault.

Another swat to Trixie’s burgeoning backside sends her squealing again, grinding her nonexistent chest into the carpet. The firm press of Ms. Harshwhinny’s shoe into her tailbone further reminds her of the teacher’s presence, leaving her quivering on the ground.

“Where did all that fight go, I wonder,” Ms. Harswhinny sighs, trailing the edge of the ruler up and under Trixie’s skirt. The girl whimpers as she feels the wooden instrument press up against her lower lips, squirming in protest as she tries to get away in spite of the weight pressing down on her.

Lavender had been right; they really did screw the pooch this time. As Trixie resists the urge to bury her face in the carpet, she feels the teacher step off of her. Despite her attempts to get her body to move however, Trixie’s limbs feel leaden, unwilling to respond. So when the ruler comes down and presses against her chin, forcing her eyes upwards, the would-be magician can only stare up at her chesty captor.

“It’s a shame to see it extinguished so quickly,” the blonde chides her, though her wicked smile never falters. “Perhaps you would simply like to jump to the part where you apologize and beg for me to show you how to be a proper CHS bimbo?”

“A-As if!” Trixie yelps, blushing furiously at the unfamiliar girlish upswing her voice had taken on. Gulping, she again tries to get her body to respond, but between the still stinging swats on her backside and an uncomfortable tightness that had responded at teacher’s offer, it’s all her already strained body can do to not collapse entirely. Still, she sneers and puts on a brave face. “Nurse Redheart was right. Who, who would want to be dominated by you?”

A still quiet fills the room, punctuated only by the quick, breathless gasps of Fuchsia Blush and the quiet smacking of a still very eager Lavender Lace. Trixie trembles as she watches the icy façade drop away from Ms. Harshwhinny’s face; her eyes burning as she reaches down and cups the girl’s chin in her hand.

Trixie very nearly gags on the overpowering scent of orchids coming off the older woman’s hand, as though she’d stuck her fist in a perfume bottle. As the heady scent overwhelms her senses, Trixie again feels the stiff presence of the ruler grinding against her nether lips.

“Do you think I’m some forgiving old woman, Miss Lulamoon?” Ms. Harshwhinny hisses through her teeth, shifting her wrist and forcing the ruler up against the whimpering girl’s body. Trixie gasps, her breath shaking as she can feel the electric sensation of magic entering her body, engorging her cunny so that it stands out lewdly against her panties.

“T-Trixie doesn’t think anything like that,” the aspiring magician gulps. “She just thinks th-AH!”

Another firm press between her legs sends Trixie’s train of thought rattling off the tracks. The alternating pressure of firmness and absence fires off sparks in her brain, distracting her from the matter at hand, that being her escape. After gathering her wits, the girl struggles to firm words, only to be cut off by another round of pressure.

Leaning down to her ear, Ms. Harshwhinny’s voice rings out in a harsh whisper, “Don’t think that you can beat me here, Miss Lulamoon, it will only make the wait that much longer.”

A weak moan escapes Trixie’s lips, and as she opens her mouth Ms. Harshwhinny forces her thumb into the girl’s mouth. Shivering, the white-haired girl feels the buzzing sensation rumbling through her head, blending with the dizzying scent of orchids and giving her the strangest case of vertigo. Grounded only by the touch of the teacher, and the pressure between her legs, the weakened girl struggles to maintain her confident presence.

Gathering her will again, she slurs out from around the teacher’s thumb, “Th-the Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t…”

At once, her mind goes blank. Either by chance or by sheer perseverance, Ms. Harshwhinny has managed to find the weakest part of her already exhausted body. As the blonde teacher continues to apply pressure, Trixie trembles, giving a plaintive cry. After an eternity, the pressure finally relaxes and she takes a shaky breath.

“Trixie d-doesn’t want to b-”

Again, pleasure washes over her like a wave, carrying her out into the deepest depths of the sea. The aspiring magician groans as she feels the fabric of her panties begin to shift snuggly against the once diminutive delight. Even when Ms. Harshwhinny pulls the ruler away, the tightness remains, her swollen button unable to retreat to her robust lower lips.

“Trixie,” the girl murmurs. A shiver rolls down her spine as she tries again to address herself properly in first person. “Trixie, Trixie, Trixie.”

The amateur magician’s brain is so thoroughly fogged over by this point that she can only think of herself in the third person. With a helpless groan, she tries to focus on regaining her language center, only to feel her lips begin an intimate dance with the thumb in front of her. As she sucks away, she meets the teacher’s eyes, and the shame flares up again. To be seen like this, is perhaps the most embarrassing thing Trixie can imagine.

But she also recognizes what else has been growing inside of her. A deep seeded desire… no, something far more than that. A need would be the only reasonable way to describe what she’s feeling now. And not just a need to be filled full of spunk like some sex dispenser on legs, but with a firm, commanding hand; just like the one in front of her. She has to have it.

“P-Please,” Trixie finally croaks. “Trixie… Trixie needs.”

A flash of kindness appears in the eyes of the blonde teacher towering over her. Sliding her spit-slicked thumb over the girl’s lips, Ms. Harshwhinny smiles and goads her forward, “What is it Trixie, what is it you need?”

“Trixie needs, more,” the once proud girl whimpers, grinding her cheek into the teachers palm. “Trixie needs it now. Please, Ms. Harshwhinny. Please!”

Her already flush face brightens all the more with her capitulation, the dizziness that had helped to keep her on the ground worsens with the accompanying rise in temperature. As such, Trixie is tremendously grateful for the sturdy body of Ms. Harshwhinny as she picks her up and gently lays her out across one of the desks.

A delighted whimper escapes the Hypersensitive and Unsteady Trixie as the cool wooden surface helps to sap some of the excess heat from her body. Unfortunately, it does nothing for the raging inferno between her legs. With a plaintive, half-lidded stare, Trixie pops her slightly swollen lips and meets Ms. Harshwhinny’s eyes again.

“Please.”

The teacher smirks, leaning down and pressing her lips to Trixie’s. As before when kissed by Fuchsia, Trixie doesn’t resist at first, but this time throws herself into the process; the girl’s eagerness getting the better of her as she luxuriates in love from the dominating diva. After several seconds, the two separate with a quiet, breathless sound, the Needy and Whimpering Trixie weakly chasing after the retreating teacher.

“This is much better,” Ms. Harshwhinny murmurs, bringing her hand up to her face again. The teacher lets her tongue toy with the tip of her finger, and the long nail atop it as she eyes her squirmy student. “You’re well on your way to becoming a proper CHS student: patient, eager, and disciplined.” The teacher shudders, closing her eyes as the last word rolls of her tongue. With a gentle groan, she slowly comes back to reality and smiles. “So, in honor of that, let’s get you your reward.”

Turning on the ball of her foot, Ms. Harshwhinny moves back to her desk. The same desk that presently has two girls writhing on top of it, joined together at the face and hip. The blonde teacher huffs in frustration as she sees that Fuchsia has knocked clean most of the surface with her thrashing, scouring the floor for some sign of one of the dildos she keeps on hand for herself and good little girls.

“L-Lace,” the redhead groans as she quivers again. “Y-you hafta stop. I can’t, I can’t feel my legs anymmmore!”

“Can’t help it,” her friend mutters, rubbing her cheek against the runner’s thick thighs. Her fingers play in between her own legs, plunging furiously ahead while she takes the time to speak and taunt the redhead. “You’re gushing like a fountain and I gotta, gotta, gotta drink.” As she dives back in, Fuchsia’s face goes hot and she brings her hands up to cover her cheeks and eyes.

“Ah, d-don’t say stuff like that!”

As the two descend back into panting moans and noisy slurps, Ms. Harshwhinny bites her lip and gives her pleasure button a little nudge through her skirt. These two girls are so incredibly close, and Trixie would likely join them. But the teacher knew that it would be a shame to make the white-haired girl into another sex-obsessed slut. She would need to be careful.

“And where are my blasted dildos?” she hisses through her teeth when another cry goes up from behind her. Turning, Ms. Harshwhinny sees that Trixie, unable to wait any longer, has found a suitable replacement for her needs; the thick ruler that she had left on the desk.

“Yes, yes!” the amateur magician whimpers, feeling the still magically charged stiff shape shift inside of her. The tip of one end tapers and rounds, becoming lewdly phallic as the hashes disappear and reappear with each thrust. But even still, the self-pleasure isn’t enough to drive her over the edge. “Trixie needs more!”

Before she can bury the ruler into her hungry cunny however, a familiar hand closes around her own. Through bleary eyes, Trixie watches as Ms. Harshwhinny steps into her sight, the girl whimpering in delight and protest as the teacher pulls the dildo-ruler out of her, until the head catches on her lips.

“More, you say?” the blonde smiles, showing even more teeth as Trixie’s head bobs wildly. “You know you’ll never be the same after this, right?” Another needy shake of the head has Ms. Harshwhinny chuckling. “So, say it.”

“Trixie needs it,” the broken girl says without missing a beat. “Trixie needs the ruler, and Trixie ne-needs to be a bimbo!”

“Ah,” Ms. Harshwhinny moans softly, her voice quickly overshadowed by the helpless gasp of Trixie as she begins to pump the first quarter of the ruler in and out of the weakened girl’s pussy. “That’s music to my ears, every bit of it! Say it again.”

“B-bimbo, Trixie is a bimbo,” she gasps, feeling her head and face tingle more with every thrust. Her eyelids, already heavy with need and exhaustion, seem to droop lower with extra weight, allowing the blossoming bimbo to see her lashes thicken and darken with heavy swipes of mascara.

Trixie’s already generously thick locks stretch and grow, pooling around her head like a halo before spilling over the edge of the desk and racing towards the floor. As she writhes on the sturdy surface, Ms. Harshwhinny grins and pushes the next quarter into her.

The tingling intensifies almost immediately. Trixie gasps for air as her lower body begins to change. Her already magic enhanced backside continues to grow, but is now accompanied by her steadily widening hips and firming thighs. Skirt seems strain, popping and snapping as they give way under the steady progress outwards. But it’s still not enough.

“M-more,” Trixie whimpers, the word sounding fat and bloated as she struggles to manage her now swollen lips. “Trixie needs, more!”

“Such a willing girl, why couldn’t you have been so eager earlier,” Ms. Harshwhinny smiles, eager to continue the process. And so, the third-quarter slides into the girl; the teacher pumping the shaft in and out of her student with a zealous excitement.

The presumably clever response Trixie had been constructing falls apart in an instant. Deep, everything is so deep right now. The head of the dildo-ruler is bottoming out, bending only ever so slightly before Ms. Harshwhinny pulls it out and thrusts again. One part of her wants to complain, but the jolts of delight from having her womb threatened are enough to keep her in a haze of pleasure.

So as she quivers and shakes, Trixie begins to notice the next change as her upper body begins to jiggle. Cracking open an eye, the white-haired magician grins as she sees her chest start to rise. Her stomach flips as a starter valley of cleavage begins to show itself against the constraints of a too tight top, billowing up towards the neck and down towards her belly.

“So close, Trixie’s so close,” she whispers, her eyes rolling back into her head. It would be easy to finally let loose all the energy that she’s been storing up; finally achieve the pleasant afterglow of orgasm. She could finish her change and be done, be one of the bimbos like Fuchsia, like Lace, like Twili-

“AGH!” the white-haired girl grunts as she snaps back to reality. Her eyes go wide as she remembers the thought of her rival, that cheeky upstart of a princess from another world. She thought she was all that, but Trixie, Trixie would show her! “More! Give Trixie more!”

The rather surprised Ms. Harshwhinny slows her thrusting despite the moans of protest from her student. She’d been certain the girl was about to go under. Biting her lip, the blonde leans down, her hand still moving gently as she whispers in the needy girl’s ear, “Trixie, what did I tell you about fighting? You shouldn’t do it, it will only make things more diff-”

“No!” the squirmy student whimpers, her eyes falling towards her ample chest. They are the size of small melons, but that isn’t enough for her. Not right now. “No, T-Trixie needs more, Trixie needs to be bigger. Bigger than Twilight Sparkle. So much bigger!”

Yes. That was it exactly. Even though the idea of seeing herself with breasts bigger than her head made her flush with shame, the prospect of smacking that pretentious girl down a few pegs is too good to pass up on. With a wide eyed stare, she leans over and brushes her cheek against Ms. Harshwhinny’s. The words catch in her throat at first, but she powers through them all the same.

“Trixie doesn’t want to just be known as Great and Powerful, Trixie wants to be the Gigantic and Pillowy Tri-”

And then words fail her. The blonde beside her grins, having once again increased her pace above and beyond where it had been before. Trixie gasps and moans as she thrashes on the tabletop, each push sending a quiver through her entire body. The constant, dull, thudding pain mixes with the insatiable need, sending her head spiraling back into an incomprehensible state.

“Greedy girl,” Ms. Harshwhinny laughs, unrelenting in her assault. “Bigger than Twilight Sparkle? That’s such a pitiful goal, why don’t you aim higher? Bigger than me? Bigger than the Principal?”

“Tits!” Trixie whimpers, her attempt to respond in the affirmative failing. Still, watching her breasts continue to swell encourages her onward. She continues to babble the same monosyllabic encouragement to her growing chest, whimpering as the reach the size of her head and tax her shirt to the limit.

This is good enough, Trixie thinks; at this size they’re large enough to shame Sparkle and herself as well. All the eyes of the students will be on her every move. A shiver goes down her spine, and Trixie resigns herself to her inevitable orgasm.

Which doesn’t come.

After several seconds, the white-haired girl begins to panic, her body tensing as she jerks her eyes downwards again. Whimpering helplessly, she can only watch as her chest bulges forward again; her shirt finally giving up the fight and ripping in half. Staring at the sports ball sized orbs on her chest, Trixie gulps.

They’re bigger than she would have liked, but still reasonable. Well, reasonable for a bimbo. But she would never orgasm if she didn’t relax. And so, with a few short, weak breaths, Trixie tries to calm her nerves. As she does, the pleasant feeling rises in her again. Just a little more and…

“C-Cummin!” Lavender moans into Fuchsia’s snatch as she furiously slides her hands between her legs. Trixie’s head lolls over to the side and can almost see a thin strand of pink passing between her own body and the blonde’s. And Fuchsia’s as well…

“Me too, oh me too,” the redhead whines, gripping her friend’s head tight between her legs to keep her in place. As the two underlings thrash about on the desk, Trixie feels her own orgasm begin to recede ever so slightly. And she had been so close!

Trixie whimpers, turning her eyes back to her chest. They had surpassed big and were now simply large, too large to be handled by even a pair of hands. Even her nipples stand out in a most obscene manner, placed in the center of her saucer-sized areola. Too much, she thinks to herself, these are far too much for any girl. And yet, that competitive twinge rumbles in her belly again. More, she needed more to spite Sparkle.

Swelling past the size of most of the bimbo-student body, Trixie can only watch as her chest grows to hide her entire lower body from view. Tits, she thinks, she’s been reduced a walking set of tits. The delightful tingle that follows catches her off guard as it roars through the rest of her body. At once, her eyelids shut as her eyes themselves roll back in her head in final, sweet release.

The unconscious student continues to milk the dildo-ruler reflexively for another thirty seconds before her ravenous pussy finally relaxes. Ms. Harshwhinny’s shoulders heave as she looks down at the girl with a sense of delight and awe.

“You were a good girl,” she murmurs, sliding a fingernail along her cheek. “I think you’ll certainly be one of my finest accomplishments.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Ms. Harshwinny sees that the two girls on her desk have finally collapsed, much like their fearless leader. With a quiet tut, she slides Trixie over to her desk and places Fuchsia and Lavender on the ground beside her. After a moments pause, the blonde teacher scours the area around her desk and finally finds it. A perfume bottle with a pink, heart shaped atomizer.

Somehow, despite all the entangling that had been going on at her desk, the bottle was still in one piece. The crack, however, had grown and was threatening to leak out the rest of the precious fluid. With a gentle sigh, the muttering matriarch decides it’s best to use it all at once rather than risking it leaking out or evaporating before it’s used.

Each girl receives a small spritz of perfume, enough to make their noses flinch at the very least. A trio of pleated, trashy microskirts slink their way around the girls’ waists, failing miserably to leave Fuchsia’s now stocking covered legs or Trixie’s backside any sense of decency. Likewise, Lavender’s massive mammaries struggle to be held in place by the pieces of triangular cloth that barely cover her nipples. Trixie fares some better in this department, though the amount of support she receives from the cups of her top send her breasts higher than they naturally ought to be.

The white-haired bimbo moans gently, grinding her thigh-high fishnet stockings together as a small nub makes itself known against her panties. Ms. Harshwhinny shakes her head and gives it a gentle nudge, muttering, “You horny little minx. If I let you go out into the world like this, you’ll jump everything that moves.” Trixie gives a gentle, breathless gasp of a reply, but it’s enough for the blonde teacher. Leaning in closer, she slides the ruler inside the student again, watching with some delight as Trixie whimpers and stiffens.

“That won’t do,” she says, shaking her head. “That won’t do at all. So let’s talk business, Miss Lulamoon. I have a few triggers in mind…”

===

Sunlight. Giving a gentle groan, Trixie cracks open one of her eyes and glares at the window. Even with the shades drawn, small slats of light still peek through the glass, interrupting her otherwise lovely beauty sleep. Well, she wasn’t about to suffer in silence. Shifting her weight, she mutters gently, “Fuchsia, Lace. Get up.”

The red and blonde lumps on either side of her give a gentle groan of protest, but a quick pinch to the backside sends both of them yelping and giggling. As the two rouse themselves, Trixie lets her eyes slide lazily around her room. Everything seems to be in order, lots of pink, lots of baby blue, and a whole assortment of tools for ‘disappearing dildos’ trick. A gentle touch to her neck confirms the collar in place where it had been for some time now, a reminder of the relationship between herself and Ms. Harshwhinny. Why, it felt like just yesterday that

“Wait.” Trixie scowls, wrestling herself out of bed and stalking over to the full length mirror. She gawks at her reflection, unable to ignore the absolutely ridiculous curves or presently pouty expression of a brain-dead bimbo on her face. With a shake of her head, she grabs a handful of hair and screeches, “Wh-what has she done to Trixie!?”

===

“So you’ve got it then?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” Applejack sighs, placing a pen on the Principal’s desk. Celestia picks it up and twists it up and down between her thumb and forefinger, examining the instrument while the farm girl continues. “It took us a day and a half to figure it out, but I reckon that it’s good enough as is.”

The Principal pauses her inspection long enough to glance up at AJ. The blonde student does her best to hide a sneer, a gentle tug from her purple-haired companion reminding her that the two of them are here on business. After looking between the two chesty students, the leggy woman behind the desk sighs and stretches her arms over her head.

“Did you test it?” Celestia asks, fixing them with a small smile.

“Wasn’t aware we were supposed to,” Applejack fires back.

“We can certainly take some time to do so, Principal Celestia,” Rarity says with a gentle tone. “All we need is the pen and-”

There’s a metallic pop as Celestia opens a drawer on her desk and places the pen inside. “It’s all right, I’m sure this is enough,” she says with a nod. “I appreciate all of your hard work; I know it can’t be easy.”

“So we’re good to go?” Celestia nods and Applejack grins. “Well hot dog, come on Rare; the sooner I’m outta here, the better I’ll feel.” But as the blonde takes her arm and tries to pull her away, the statuesque student scowls at the Principal. “Rare?”

“Principal Celestia, if I may,” the pale girl begins, her tone even and measured. “Why is it that you wanted us to make a pen for you in the first place?”

After a moment of silence, the pantsless Principal stands, towering over even Rarity. With a gentle grin, she plainly declares, “Curiosity and insurance. Now if that’s all, the two of you can go.”

Despite the rather cowed expression on the leggy purple-haired girl’s face, she still doesn’t seem satisfied. Thankfully, Applejack is there to drag her away, leaving the Principal to her own devices. After the students leave, her sister enters the room and offers a small smirk.

“Did you get what you were looking for?”

“I certainly hope so,” Celestia laughs. “Otherwise I’ll look a fool when Twilight Sparkle tries something.”

Frowning, Luna moves over and sits on her sister’s desk. “Do you really think she will? We have certainly made moves to show how serious we are that would quiet most discontents.” Noting that Celestia’s eyes seem glued to her backside, Luna shifts her weight a little, her cheeks jiggling slightly in response. The gentle coloring of her pale sister’s face almost brings a smile to the younger’s lips.

“I’m almost positive,” Celestia finally responds. “We just need to be ready to make a move. Keep an eye on her. How are things with Miss Lulamoon.”

Vice Principal Luna smirks as she leans over the desk and places her lips against her elder sister’s. After a brief, somewhat chaste kiss, she pulls back and murmurs, “Better than could be expected; I have the feeling that Miss Sparkle will have far more to deal with in the future than just our intentions.”

“Good,” the breathless and beet-red Principal sighs. “Then let’s start planning what our next move is.”