Author's Note
This story is something I've had in mind for a long time. I finally got around to writing it. I guess the scenario would be Rainbow discussing her deep secret with a close friend, although I'm not sure which pony that would be.
I write a lot of Scoots/Rainbow, but this was different for me. It was hard to write at times, really. It's not really a clop, more of an introspective on Dash.
I hope you enjoy it.
1
I go through the motions every night. Putting on a fake front that none of them can see through. I can tell when they talk among themselves about the colts across the room at a crowded dance, or exchange little looks when we're out at lunch. I think Twilight may even have a colt she's seeing from time to time since she became a princess. Another of my friends is probably a lesbian, but I never would tell who.
I try to awkwardly keep up with conversations, pretending to be interested. Commenting on physique and looks of colts walking by even when I have no more interest than the mare in the moon. I mean, yeah, I can tell when a pony is attractive. But I don’t notice it on my own. It doesn’t do anything for me.
The whole act just feels natural to me after all these years. Kind of like wearing a costume or something. And I don't think anypony has caught on, even though I worry about it constantly. Worrying about what they will do if they find out that I'm lying.
Or find out what I am...
...
I'm a horrible pony.
I feel broken sometimes. Like a mare that doesn't serve any purpose.
I can already tell what you're thinking. And I can tell you that you'd be wrong. Ponies have thought it before. Even told me to my face. Told me that it's alright to like other mares.
Yeah, okay. That would be simple. Nothing is ever that simple.
I'll just tell you. I mean, that's why I'm doing this, right? To tell somepony. Not just to get it off my chest. Just to make sure someone knows. I don't know why, but that's important to me.
I like...um, well, I guess I do like mares. Mostly. But, younger ones, you know? Gods, there's no good way to say this...
I've known myself for a long time. It's not like one day you come to grips with it. It happens over time. The older you get the more you know. And the worse it feels. I imagine most ponies get to their teenage years, and bam, they start to notice what they're into. Well, I want through that period just thinking I was weird. I went to a few dances, to try to fit in, hoping to realize what I was missing. I even dated a few colts.
It was mostly disaster. I certainly earned the reputation around high school of being a fillyfooler. When a colt made any advance, I was just a wall of ice. I feel a little bad about it. I mean, they were decent ponies. I just didn't feel anything for them. And it made me distance myself more.
By the time I finished high school and got a job with the weather team, I had only a couple friends. Which was nice actually. As I lived on my own, I didn't have to pretend as much. I started to slowly realize what interested me. It was slow at first. In the first days of the Ponynet, there were chatrooms all over the place. Just basic text based things, but to me, they were a sanctuary.
I met the first pony I ever felt something for on one of them. When she said she was still in middle school, I remember my heart skipping a beat. This could get me in trouble. I didn't know how the net worked back then, but I knew someone could find out. There was a wild excitement to it. I remember she had to use the mail function because you couldn't post an actual picture in the chat. I felt a sudden strange flutter in my chest when she agreed. I had just met her after all.
I never told her how old I was.
I still swear she's one of the most beautiful ponies I've ever seen. Precocious too. The image she sent must have been taken by her. She was gazing with lusty eyes at the camera as she covered her crotch with a hoof. Obviously taken into a mirror. Her snow white tail was splayed on the ground as she sat with legs spread wide. Her shorter mane and slim thighs gave away her age for sure. I saved it immediately.
I still have it.
She called herself Moondancer online. I was captivated.
I still remember sending her racy images and links to things no ponies her age should ever see. I loved seeing her innocent reactions and how she would talk about things she saw to me. We’d chat late into the night about what we’d do to each other when we finally met. Every kinky act became part of the elaborate fantasy I weaved around her.
She didn't like that I never sent her anything of myself. I was afraid, alright? I knew her parents could find what she was doing. Sometimes I worried about what they would do it they found out. I didn't like to think too much on it, really.
I guess I spent a lot of time convincing myself it was alright.
It wasn’t soon after I moved to Ponyville, she sent me one last image. Moondancer was posed on a toy I had convinced her to get, obviously enjoying herself. The angle showed her body straddling the fake piece of plastic, taking all of it into her young body. I will admit she was gorgeous.
But I didn’t feel the same spark anymore. She wasn’t the innocent filly I fell so hard for. She was a full grown mare.
I knew at some point she’d hate me. Hate me for what I did with her when she was young. Hate me for taking her innocence.
I was afraid of a lot of things.
...
I never talked to her again after that.
For the most part, things were the same after I left Cloudsdale. I like the fact I can be by myself here. I have a small house on the outskirts of town, and with hardly any pegasi around, I rarely get bothered. I can spend time with my friends when I want, but most of the time I can isolate myself. There’s less pressure to go out as well. It’s not like there’s a night scene in a quiet town like this.
I still catch some grief here and there. Rarity is the worst offender, as she always tries to hook me up with random stallions.
I can’t even imagine the look on her face if she knew who I was interested in.
It was at her boutique that I met her sister’s friends. I never really thought much about Sweetie. Her and Applebloom were sisters of my close friends. I never thought of them like that. I put up with them, mostly.
Scootaloo was different.
The small orange filly reminded me a lot of myself. Fearless and brash, I knew the first time I saw her that there was something between us. She may think she was the one following me around, but I was probably following her much more.
I liked the way the light caught on her coat and she lit up like the sun. Bright orange, as her coltish curled mane fluttered slightly in the wind as she would jet around on her scooter. Sometimes I’d push clouds out of the way, clearing a way for her so she could move along with the sun lighting her way. If she noticed, she never said anything.
I loved her outgoing attitude. She never backed down from anything.
It didn’t take long before I realized I felt the same for her as Moondancer.
The more she followed me around and the more time we spent together, the more I was infatuated with her. The more I grew to like her, the harder it got though. To be so close to her, and not be able to say anything. Like a wild fluttering in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want to say anything though. I couldn’t.
I was afraid again, I suppose.
I didn’t want Scoots to grow up hating me too. That’s something I couldn’t live with.
When Rarity and Applejack approached me about taking all the girls on a camping trip, I remember my brain screaming it was a mistake. Something would happen. Maybe Scoots would find out. Or worse, my friends would.
My body said yes before my mind could stop it. I was drawn to her even though I knew it was a mistake.
Of course Scoots was delighted. I loved that look on her face. She absolutely idolized me; that much was apparent. It was quite the turn on, actually. To have a pony look up to you like that.
I asked her if she wanted to camp the week before to see how she would like it. We could camp near my house. On the clouds.
Her face lit up. Of course she did. She was ecstatic.
I hated myself for that. I felt like I was lying to her.
I guess I was, really.
I remember working all day to make sure everything was perfect. I had the tent set up. I had some tofu dogs and marshmallows ready. I wanted her to have a great time.
That wild fluttering was back in my chest. I liked it, but it was worrying too. I didn’t know what was going to happen.
When she came, I had to go to the ground and pick her up. Scoots loves when I carry her. She seems to think I’m the fastest pegasus in all Equestria. I guess compared to the scooter, I’m not too bad. We dived through some clouds, catching the faltering rays of the sun as it set. I glanced back as she held my mane gently, her warmth pressed against my back. She was shining in the sun, her eyes lit up with excitement as we shot through the sky.
I never felt like I wanted another pony more.
We stayed up late, eating our junk food and telling stories about Scoot’s friend’s sisters. She would have liked to stay up longer, but I wanted to go to bed. I guess fillies are just usually like that.
I had the tent laid out with just two blankets, one on top of the other. The little orange pony tossed the cover aside, jumping into the makeshift bed and flipping the cover open so I could join her. Obliging her, I slid down onto the soft blanket, curling up on my side, facing her.
She said good night. And to my surprise, she leaned over and kissed my cheek.
I couldn’t even reply at that point. I just smiled and ruffled her mane.
My heart was beating so fast.
I remember just lying there next to her for a long time. The night was cool and pleasant, and we had the blanket pulled up over us. I could feel her warmth next to me. Could hear her breathing. The moon was out, casting a dull light over her sleeping form.
It was the first time I felt any amount of intimacy with anypony.
That sounds pathetic doesn’t it?
Curling up close to her, I cradled her gently against me. Just the feel of her fur against mine was electric. I burrowed my face in her mane, smelling her. Gods, she smelled amazing. No hints of perfume or scents, just a faint tinge of shampoo and ozone.
Carefully I ran my hoof along her body, feeling her skinny legs, slowly working to her muscled thighs. She was in good shape for a filly. Touching her lightly, I worked my hoof around and held her inner thighs and I held her closer.
I could feel her tail teasing against my sex. A shudder ran through my body.
Stifling a moan, I kissed her neck. Her fine coat was like velvet as I tasted her, licking her shoulder as I panted slightly. Her rump was grinding against me now, driving me wild.
I wanted to keep touching her, to feel her young sex on my hoof, bringing her to a shuddering orgasm in her sleep. I wanted to turn her over and taste her all over. To eat her out until she moaned. I didn’t care if she woke anymore. She would love it.
She idolized me.
….
I drew back from her. Flipping over on my other side, I bit my lip as I drew my hoof along my crotch, feeling the wave of pleasure come over me as I clopped next to her. I could still feel her fur against my back as I held back my moans, cumming hard against my hoof.
Still panting, I snuggled against her once more.
I breathed in her scent again as I enjoyed the afterglow of my self-induced sex. I just remember an overwhelming feeling of happiness, laying there with her. I hate that this is the most intimate I’ve ever been with another pony. How pathetic that this is as good as it gets for me. The only time I can think clearly is after I get off. I realize what I am, and who she is.
I'm so glad she’ll wake up and she'll still be my friend.
Glad that I didn't hurt her.
Glad she didn’t find out what I am.
How broken I really am.
