They told her to report it.
For a week now, the notices had been made plain for all to see. Highly localized, they were centered around the lab room where the incident had occurred, and came alongside constant reminders before, after, and even during class. Handouts had become a daily ritual, alongside mentions of the incident in the section of the blackboard nobody was allowed to erase.
The event itself was nothing nearly so primal as the aftershock of warnings associated with it. Further, it had since been determined that the effects never made it outside of last Thursday’s fourth-period chemistry class at all. And yet, the sheer volume of warnings made Fluttershy feel as though a nuclear winter was in progress, and the entire nation was being force-fed emergency potassium iodide capsules.
It is a mere fact of life that a high school chemistry lab will occasionally experience a small explosion or a fire as a result of the careless antics of distracted students. Fluttershy’s school was no exception, but such events had never manifested as more than a single loud popping noise, or a tiny burst of flame that lingered for mere milliseconds before dissipating into the ether of an otherwise boring afternoon. Thus the ‘incident’, while too minor to be of any concern to the community at large, still technically counted as the worst ‘mistake’ to have ever occurred in the chemistry lab. Steps had therefore been taken to ensure no student present that day suffered any ill effects.
* * * * *
Eight days hence, the shortened journey of the Friday afternoon sun had already begun to fade into autumn’s anonymity. Long, lazy clouds sprawled over a horizon of spun gold, enchanted purple, harvest orange, and dazzling vermillion that kissed the naked treetops; stroking their bark and encouraging them to offer the last of their raspy leaves to the woven brilliance of colored parchment below. Winter’s icy arms had only just begun to wrestle the lingering haze of summer into submission, and every wisp of breeze was an unquiet, brisk marriage of warmth and chill.
The hard, bare keratin of Fluttershy’s hooves tapped out an expedient rhythm that echoed through empty breezeways. She made a conscious attempt to slow her steps, but unseen puppeteer strings around her thighs dug into the supple flesh under her uniform skirt, yanking her insistently onward. Clutching a few thin textbooks to her chest, she spared no glance for the beauty of the waning day - instead, she focused on bargaining with the fires that boiled within her to calm themselves just long enough to reach her intended destination.
The signs were all there. A heightened sense of touch that left blotches of crimson blush on her cheeks after merely drying herself off in the locker room after gym. Daydreams, so intense that she would have to take care who might be in her field of vision when her thoughts ran rampant. Lapses in attention span that caused her to play the fool more than once in class when she was called on but had no information to share - including how long she had spent gazing at the flowers outside while balancing a pencil on her knuckles. Too much giggling around the boys. Too much giggling around the girls.
Per the propaganda, just one such symptom demanded a report to the nurse’s office.
The accidental concoction, created accidentally by a smattering of too many clouds and rainbows, had drawn the attention of the entire class. It was a warm, bright magenta suspension, fizzing with heart-shaped bubbles. The instructor had removed it with tongs and hazmat gear in the turning of a minute, warning the captivated onlookers not to imbibe the curious concoction or breathe too deeply of its fumes. Muted snickers were heard around the room, coupled with queries as to why anybody would drink something cooked up in the chemistry lab.
It wasn’t until the following day that the instructor provided an explanation. While reading from a dusty tome that had been collecting cobwebs on the tallest shelf in the room long before anyone who frequented the school walked the planet, he explained that had the curious potion not been removed from the scene immediately, the desire to ingest it would have been overwhelming.
As Fluttershy walked, she thought on the odor the mixture had given off. She recalled the curious way the aroma had seeped into her, coiling around her thoughts and constricting them down into a hard, blank slate. She had felt an odd tingle inside just as the liquid was being hastened from the room, and a curious, delicious blankness - as though someone had reached into her mind with a pencil and begun scribbling out ideas on that slate. If an orgasm could be perceived in terms of scent, she thought that was what it would have smelled like.
She let out a terse breath and hugged the books tighter to her chest, mashing them against her breasts like a riot shield. It would do her little good since the riot was coming from within, but the books were rough, tangible, and rote. As a temporary anchor for her psyche and a place to dull the rapid sharpening of her instincts, they served at least some redeeming purpose.
The breeze caused by her pace slipped between her thighs and around her waist, raising goosebumps on her flesh that caused her sunny coat hairs to stand on end. With a narrowing of her brow and an audible huff, she gagged her complaining brain with a wet sock-full of gibberish trigonometry calculations.
A quick jaunt down a secondary hallway and a few meek nods to lingering students led Fluttershy to a blank, beige door. Sculpted from its linoleum surroundings like an afterthought, it was sunk deeply into a wall, barricaded on either side by rows of lockers that seemed to grant egress only through centuries of erosion. A pattern of artificial light skimmed the door’s thickly painted surface, flickering with the imminent failure of one of the florescent bulbs above that had yet to be tended to.
The lack of attention by maintenance staff was exactly what Fluttershy had been hoping for. She shifted the weight of the books to the crook of one arm and reached out to touch her open palm to the door. The sensation of cold metal slipped through her attuned nerves, raising the hairs on the back of her neck in a rigid, yet bizarrely pleasant way. She fanned her tapered fingers over the plate screwed to the door that bore the generic symbol for ‘female’ and pushed on it, wondering all the while if her nerves were even still capable of parsing any sensation in a negative way.
The young pegasus was greeted by two rows of additional fluorescent lighting. Affixed to a lower ceiling than that of the hall, these lights were close enough to emit an audible, sterile hum. The restroom nestled in this corner of the school was as sanitary as any other, but it had the advantage of being far from the gym, the track, or any of the classrooms that tended to be used for extracurricular pursuits.
Fluttershy jumped slightly, a hand pressed over her heart at the clicking noise the door made as it sealed her off from the rest of the world. Heavy though it was, it could not be locked. Thus, there was always the chance that some meandering student, custodian, or faculty member who had seen fit to linger in this part of the building could appear at any moment.
She set her arms free, and the resultant, soupy clatter of textbooks on the floor seemed miles away. She wasn’t even certain just whose books they were or where she had gotten them, anyway. Bypassing the identical vase of faux petunias that existed in every other little mare’s room throughout the school, she placed her hands on either side of the nearest sink and leaned forward, staring deeply into the depths of her own sea green eyes.
Reflected in the glass stood the pony who had always been with her. Fluttershy traced her own outline with her eyes and thought back. There had been a time not so long ago when the long-sleeved white blouse and green sailor tie she wore, off-color slightly in the manner of a junior division, had adorned a chest that had all the proportions of a diving board.
She cupped her hands under her clad breasts and gave each of them a gentle squeeze, as if testing to ensure they were real. They felt...plump. Somehow they were even more filled out than they had been a week ago, and their firmness was no longer familiar to her. Her body’s instant response to the touch raised a volcanic fire on her cheeks that doubled what had already been there. Two blunted nubs of fabric extended from her blouse with unfettered quickness. Each one was like a receiver for radio waves of pleasure, and the simple matter of either of them rubbing up against the inside of her shirt sent a waves of eroticism through her brain that she had to grit her teeth against.
“...oh, right...” Fluttershy muttered, her voice even softer and silkier than normal. “...I left it in my locker again...”
She counted on her fingers how many times in her life before the past week she’d carelessly left her bra in her locker, and came up with a fist. The cocooning support used to be a sense of comfort to her - a defense perimeter for her feminine secrets against the world. Now it just felt like a vice grip squeezing her heart.
She barely noticed as her fingers threaded loose the last button on her blouse. In an instant, she was staring at the daffodil-colored valley of her breasts as they emerged from behind the cloudy canopy of white, like twin rising suns. Ignoring the smartly-knotted emerald tie about her neck, she brushed the blouse aside and brought forth each stiff, attentive nipple.
Before the mirror, she inspected herself – her eyes skated the slopes from the curve of her collarbone to the engraved navel just above the waist of her pleated skirt. Beauty was as much a constant struggle for her as it was for any student who buttoned on the same skirt every morning, but she found herself thinking about it in a whole new way. It was no longer a question of keeping up with the trends, or wondering if anybody noticed that the deep wave in her bangs was as much a security blanket as a style choice. Recently, when she felt safe and alone, she found herself deliberately pushing out her chest; making pouty kissy-faces at her own reflection.
She placed a hand delicately over her heart, just to feel it race. The blood pulsed through her veins; hammering between her ears and threatening to drive her mad if the rising need that bubbled near the surface was left untended. She had a private bedroom at home, but that wouldn’t do. The chance of being overheard was simply too great.
Or perhaps, somewhere deep in a chamber of her heart, finding a place to be overheard was exactly what she wanted.
Her blouse hanging open, Fluttershy flexed her wings in one great span, stretching them to their limits, and turned back into the room. Walking with a unintended saunter, she frowned at the ‘out of order’ sign displayed prominently on the closest stall, thinking it no less than a violation of her personal space. Nevertheless, her naturally complacent personality remained intact enough to obey the sign’s directive - guiding her hand towards the farthest stall instead.
Soon she found herself in a world of bright orange aluminum, gilded with a throne of smooth porcelain. She winced as her naked thighs draped themselves over the cold roundness of the bowl, but she would not dwell on the discomfort. There simply wasn’t time to think of anything that kept her from nature’s design. She paused only when she went to hook her thumbs around the soft, familiar cotton of her panties, and found them as absent as her brassiere. What sort of young mare had she become since those cloying fumed had invaded her psyche, that she would walk around bereft entirely of her last line of purity?
She should report it. Report the symptoms and be treated. The fire in her loins would quiet, and she could return to life as she knew it. Back to her simple, compromising...boring life. The only life she had ever understood how to live.
The elegant, flesh-bunted probes of her fingertips found the walls of her outer blossom. She traced them, and the electricity there was like nothing she had ever felt in that dull little life, up until eight precious days ago.
“Nngh...”
She rimmed the ovoid contours between her legs with two fingers, testing their engorged puffiness. It should feel good. She knew that. But it shouldn’t feel this good.
Spreading her secrets wide, a third finger from her opposite hand dug at her hood until she found the tiny nub - the little button designed to entertain and mollify her until such time as her stallion mate passed his fertile seed into her body.
“...hahh...”
She could picture every detail of his body. The height that made her feel deliciously small. The Adonis musculature that would both defend her honor and end her chastity. The large hands that closed upon her wrists. The piercing gaze that saw straight through her; laying bare not only every inch of her body, but every quiet perversion rattling around inside her lonely head.
The only thing she could never make out was his face. It shifted with every whim of a summertime breeze, settling upon whomever she happened to be looking at or thinking about during her days in class. Whichever one of her classmates held the honor from fantasy to fantasy always drew from her thoughts of true affection, romance, and adoration - all radiating from her with each flutter of her heart.
She loved them all, even the ones she barely knew. It was perhaps abnormal, but the licentious feelings instilled in her a depth of feeling that no mere one-night stand could hope to match.
In her imagination he was upon her, and her snaking fingers became the girth she so longed for. He filled her; completed her, and with one great thrust he ended her maidenhood with a single, jarring tear. She would both lubricate and bleed for him as he claimed a permanent title that no other could ever take away.
That of her first.
Fluttershy pushed against her suitor, resisting him, but the gesture was intended to be thwarted. Soon, inevitably, her hands found their way to the mattress below. Crossed above her head, her helpless hands were held in check by only one of his.
It was her bed. Her room. Her sanctum. A place where his violations had become welcome.
It didn’t matter who he was or what he had done to make it past third base - it was enough that his body was warm and willing to satisfy. No matter their shapes or sizes, they were all beautiful to her, and with the help of the magenta fumes, each stallion she invited into her boudoir became more than a partner. They became her lovers, and she bore the honesty of her body to them.
“...o-ohh...”
His hand found its way under her thigh. He pushed on it, and in the restroom Fluttershy raised her right leg high, bringing her hoof to rest on the stall door. Already the odor of her own arousal wafted into her muzzle, but her scent was different than before - it was the scent of the fumes that had awakened her a week hence. The arousal from those fumes turned her body into an mobius strip of constantly regenerating sexuality - a springtime bloom in any season that promised never to wilt.
He thrust, and the slickness that had softened her defenses accepted his invasion. She felt his broad, equine tongue dance over her jugular vein, and wished on some base level that he would bite down - pin her yielding nape in his predatory jaws and establish total control over her entire being.
Words that she knew, but would never before have dared to say, slipped from her lips as she stared at the stucco restroom ceiling-
“Nghahh...y-yes...” Her throat beat out the smattering of words like the wings of a butterfly, “...d-deeper...m-more...m-make it...make it hurt...”
She was back in her bedroom again, and he accommodated her. His licks became bites; the grip of his single hand cut off the circulation in her slender wrists. She could feel the rivulets of his perspiration mingle with her own as he roughly captured one of her buoyant orbs with his free hand. He squeezed, his fingers cleaving into her bosom - his lips closed around the nipple that capped its summit. He drew deeply from her, seeking womanly nourishment, and brought his herbivorous teeth to bear on her in a series of tantalizing nibbles.
Fluttershy’s hips rolled, and the sensation of the porcelain touching her rump became intermittent in time with her bucking. Her ears twitched at the clattering noise the stall bolt emitted as it complained about the kicks her flailing hoof sent its way. Fingers plunged inside her, digging at the special spot along the roof of her channel that she had to learn about in class before discovering for herself. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she found giggles tangled somewhere in the brambles of her moans.
She should have reported it. But the truth was, she didn’t want to.
“...o-ohh...ahhhnnhahh...” The sounds escaped her, unfettered by the trepidation that had always held her down. “...mmm...mmhmm...th-there, r-right...right there...”
Her mind’s eye blinked. The bedroom and her lover vanished.
Now she found herself strolling down a nameless hallway somewhere in the web of her alma mater. The artificial lights radiated warmth, and she turned her cheeks gleefully up to them like a perfect midsummer’s sun - absorbing their rays as if she could derive sustenance from them. Her wings stretched, spanned, and pumped behind her, lifting her hooves such that she could just feel the tips of them brushing the floor below. Her underwear was gone, her blouse down two buttons, and her skirt hiked up a mere, trifling inch.
When she found the earth again and her eyes reopened, she saw them. Their faces were of no importance, but the jerseys they insisted upon wearing with their regular jeans pegged at least two of them as members of the hoofball team. They leaned against the lockers, arms folded with a subtle nonchalance, chatting and laughing as they passed around something that looked to her like a cigarette.
As she spun two fingers over her button, Fluttershy’s eyes popped open. A warm grin passed across her face. The scent of her fantasy was nearly as real to her as the one that rose from her lungs every time her body bloomed. Whatever they were passing around, it was pink, bubbled with smoky hearts, and it smelled like joy.
Back in her mind, she went to them. Inserted herself into their conversation. Laughed at their rather boorish jokes and did her best to follow them into masculine topics she knew little about.
Inevitably she felt a hand caress the small of her back. It tested her waters, hovering above the tail hole in her skirt. Some part of her subconscious thought back to lessons from her mother, who taught her how to cross her legs and act like a lady. Like a good, content, compromising, and thoroughly trapped lady.
She caught the hesitation in the tall, dark stallion’s eyes. As with any boy he was trying to see how far he could go. She opened her mouth as if to engage him in conversation, but another, scrawnier boy grabbed her cheeks and buried his lips into hers. She yelped, her palms held up to either side of her head, but her arms dropped when she realized just what it was he had done.
It was not a kiss. Turning his head to make a firm seal over her lips, he passed a great gout of the enchanted magenta fumes into her lungs. She inhaled deeply - when he pulled away, she was left with a silly grin and puffs of heart-shaped smoke leaking in trails from the corners of her mouth. The hand found its way to her bottom. She parted her legs for it, and felt as a broad finger began to poke at the tighter hole near her tail.
In the bathroom stall, his fingers were hers. With them Fluttershy probed that other, puckered hole that had been a complete mystery until only a few days ago. The effect of gravity on her weeping flower produced all the lubrication she would need for her explorations. Her wings outstretched, she placed her other hoof on the stall door and spread her legs so wide she might as well have been in stirrups. Three fingers of one hand wormed inside her marehood, while a single digit of the other hand began a shallow, penetrating rhythm in that other place.
“Nng-!”
The young, lonely pegasus bit her lip hard, her ears perking as they caught the sound of shuffling outside the restroom door. Unable to stop the movements of her fingers, she bore down on her lip, forcing her whines into capitulation until the hoof-falls in the hall grew distant, and eventually faded. When she finally let up, her taste buds detected a faint trail of coppery blood that oozed from the wound she had created.
She closed her eyes. Behind the thin membrane of her eyelids, she was in the boy’s locker room after school. All the girls knew how to identify the tramps among their number who loitered in this place. Flat on her back on a bench between two looming rows of boy-storage, Fluttershy thought briefly on how the evidence would be with her now, too - the odor of cheap male deodorant on her skirt, and the faint scent of stallion in her hair.
But there was a difference. The floozies always had something to gain, be it social influence, blackmail, or a few bits on the side. Fluttershy, by contrast, asked for nothing other than the throbbing love between each stallion’s thighs. As the first of them entered her, her smile of honest adoration told them that they held all the cards.
“...nnghahh...i-it’s okay...” She muttered to nobody, “...y-you can play t-too...”
One of their number placed his hands on her thighs and pushed her legs further out of the way than she could lift them on her own. He sank in deep, his clumsy thrusts mashing his flared tip up against her cervix. The second stallion, the runt of the litter, was on his knees beside her - one hand kneading her left bare breast, while his lips nursed from the nipple of her right. The way he was roughly groping her made her breasts feel three times their normal size, and from the sound of his guttural grunts, she could guess what his other hand was doing under the bench.
The third stallion abruptly cut off her view of the others by swinging one leg over the narrow bench, standing in a straddling position over her neck. His pants undone, he gave her an eyeful of the object of her adoration - a plump, stiff penis, embossed with jittery veins and a slight curve that was perfect for breeding a mate. He flexed the taut muscles of his erection, sending it sharply up and then back down again, inertia causing it to boop the tip of Fluttershy’s snout before it bounced back into authority over her.
Using her muzzle and soft cheeks, Fluttershy batted playfully at her new friend, toying with him like a cat. Elation ran rampant through her mind, quashing her conscious thoughts and putting the three uncultured, horny youths at the center of her universe. Giggling like the schoolgirl she was, Fluttershy tasted the base of the penis hovering an inch above her face, giving it a long, savory lick. The stallion reached down and placed a single finger on his flare, pointing it downwards to poke at her lips. Dutifully her tongue snaked out from its home and took up the bubble of clear pre-seed that had formed at his opening. From there he simply pushed forward, claiming her throat and muffling her moans until his fuzzy testicles were resting at her chin.
Back in the mare’s restroom, Fluttershy’s full, pouty lips puckered towards the ceiling. Her loins burned; her button throbbed. It shouted at her from the apex of her petals, commanding her attention beyond even the level of her pets back home. Her fingertips went to it, and when they made contact the force of her reward was enough to send her other hand down to the toilet seat for support. She grabbed the hard surface tightly, preserving her balance as her rump lifted entirely up and off it, her hooves pressing hard on the stall door.
“Hahh...hahh...hahhhhnnnghhahh!”
In her fantasy, her first suitor slammed her hard, holding himself inside as his unprotected girth pumped her full of warm ropes of creamy seed. Sensing the breeding, her body reacted on pure instinct, sending her into a spasmodic pumping of her vaginal walls as she lapped up every drop and passed it back into her womb, heedless of the consequences.
“Ohhh...ngah...o-ohh, nnnn...” Fluttershy cooed, her voice echoing slightly against the empty walls of the mare’s restroom. With every synapse drowning in the gooey miasma of climax, she kept the pressure hot on her nethers, determined to clear her head at least enough to get a good night’s sleep for the first time in a week.
Spent, stallion number one seemed to vanish entirely from the phantasmal landscape. With the third still laying claim to her throat, the scrawny one took the initiative and scrambled atop the naked female pegasus lying prone on the locker room bench, eager to opportunistically lose his virginity. With runoff from the previous male offering still oozing from her, he threaded his somewhat stubby stallionhood in for sloppy seconds, and in an instant was pumping her with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
In the restroom, a very much alone Fluttershy kicked and bucked, her jerking hips nearly sending her careening sideways into the floor of the stall. She slid her hooves up the smooth surface of the door until she was practically laying on the toilet bowl. Her back began to arch with the approach of her second orgasm - thankful that she had chosen the wider handicapped stall, she used the leverage to send her feathery yellow wings into a frenzy of beating until only one hand anchored her to the porcelain.
Her second suitor was less in control of his faculties. His bucking was wild, and his cries undisciplined as he sought to breed his mate. Unable even to see him at his toil, Fluttershy squeezed his waist with her thighs, her digitigrade ankles pressing encouragingly into the backside of the smaller male who was staking one of many claims to her womb. Meanwhile, her cheeks cooed around the penis that was rooted in her throat, sending pleasant vibrations through it.
Overwhelmed, the young stallion let out a high-pitched cry and followed the path of nature, planting himself as deeply as he could go and holding it there as he ejected into the female cavern that surrounded him. She could tell how pent-up he was just from the great spasms and blasts of semen - the duration of which was nearly twice that of her previous lover.
A fleeting memory floated around in Fluttershy’s brain while a great gout of seed flooded her. Something she had overheard in her own gender’s locker room, from girls who claimed to have already ‘lost it’ - that while you could feel his spasms, it was impossible to actually sense the force or amount of his ejaculation.
Perhaps the love-fumes had perverted that truth...or perhaps that truth was never evident to begin with. It could also have been the mere force of her fantasy, but Fluttershy had no frame of reference, and she didn’t care. She could feel every single spurt from the stubby, overexcited penis inside her, and she knew his seed was no less fertile than any of the others.
In the bathroom, Fluttershy’s fingers glided between their mates on a skin of damp satin that flowed like honey down the trail of her perineum. She found a sweet spot - her eyes shot open like bullets and her wings beat nearly to escape velocity until every muscle suddenly went rigid. Her coordination failing her, she collapsed to the floor in a yelping heap, just barely avoiding cracking her head on the toilet bowl.
“...ngh...hahh...wh-what happ-ahh...ahh...”
The pain brought an instant of clarity to her mind. She rubbed the back of her head and considered her situation, but a flight of heart-shaped bubbles took wing before her eyes, and her idiotic grin quickly returned. She sat back against the stall wall, the cool aluminum on her back and her legs spread dumbly before her. Her fingers went back to work, and whatever discomfort her limbs might have suffered from the fall was carried away on the majestic waves of lust in its purest form. Shoving her blouse out of the way, she gripped one breast and squeezed it as roughly, and with as little understanding, as the young stallion in her dreams had.
Fluttershy’s fantastic thoughts turned back to the boy’s locker room. Only one stallion remained, and his countenance was the greatest of the trio. He had been the one to patiently watch; waiting while the others eagerly groped and intensified the addiction of their delicate prize back out in the hall. He had claimed her lips with his girth, but as she rolled with the orgasms of the previous two she’d barely noticed his presence. He made no attempt to thrust - he was simply there, in her mouth, making himself into a silent presence that stole her voice and sunk her brain into quiet expectation of his existence within her.
Her eyes opened, and with a muffled gasp, she realized he had done it all on purpose. He was holding her there, pinning her in a sexual way that would both force and encourage her to accept the seed of the other two. He alone had shown the restraint necessary to accomplish such a feat despite the presence of a beautiful, sultry mare whose neck he was sitting on, and who also held his penis lovingly in her slick embrace.
She marveled at his control. Her expression must have been easy to read, because he reached down and bemusedly touched one finger to the tip of her muzzle.
“Breathe.”
She heard him utter the single word. His voice, like his face, was without definition, but the word had a commanding presence that caused her to instantly obey. Both in the real world and that of her fantasy, Fluttershy pushed out her chest and expanded her lungs, drawing in a deep breath of air tainted heavily with stallion musk. Her lover of the moment simply pinched her nostrils closed between his thumb and forefinger, uttering another single word-
“Hold.”
He drew his erection back, his medial ring slipping out of her mouth, but then slowly pressed back inside again, the ring popping past her lips while his tip took root in her throat.
In the restroom world, Fluttershy puffed her cheeks and held her breath. She could only manage it for a few trifling seconds each time, but those seconds caused her fingers to jump and work between her thighs with a new intensity. Sitting where she had fallen, she melted down the stall wall until her head came out from under it. She lay there on her back, eyes in view of the sinks above her, as she petted herself and reveled in the idea of having every part of her being - even her ability to draw breath, controlled by whomever inserted himself as her lover of the moment.
With her senses drawn to a peak she didn’t know they were capable of, she perceived the swirling lights above as tropical suns, bringing about a sheen of sweat all over her body. Their patient hum was a steady buzzing in her mind that whited out whatever conscious thoughts she tried to bring to bear like so much static.
In the locker room, her stallion abruptly released her. She perceived him standing beside her, his thick, veiny penis presiding over her expectantly. She rose daintily on the bench, propping herself up with one hand while she drew her knees into a slutty side-sitting pose. She reached out for his twitching organ, wet now with her saliva, but he slipped his hand in hers, yanking her up to a more proper sitting position. Fluttershy was most certainly tall enough to touch the floor, but she let the tips of her hooves brush against it anyway, swinging her legs with a certain giddy glee as he reached for her other arm and brought them both up over her head.
She sat still as he lifted her blouse entirely off her body, exposing the fullness of her nudity from the waist up to the forbidden locker room. He cast the garment into some heap of anonymity outside of her perceptions, caressed her cheek, and angled her eyes to stare only at his prominent girth and heavy testicles, which pulsed slightly with his breathing. Captivated, she barely noticed as he ran his hands down to her waist and encouraged her up onto her hooves, where she evaporated into his powerful embrace. His steel arms enfolded her, capturing her, even as his hand tugged at the waist of her skirt. It was a silent command, and as his erection stabbed the softness of her stomach, she obeyed it by reaching down to work her clasp.
Fluttershy felt the fleeting sensation of the pleated garment kissing her thighs and calves as it slipped helplessly away, dropping to the floor and disappearing completely. Naked now from head to hoof, without so much as a hair clip to pin her wayward bangs in place, she brought her arms up and laced her fingers together around his neck. His hands came to rest just above her rump; he bent his neck, turning his head slightly to thread his muzzle into hers.
Fantasy or no, Fluttershy had always kept a secret Achilles’ heel hidden away. Deep kisses reminded her of the heroic fairytales she used to read as a filly - images of enchanted gardens and white knights sweeping her off her hooves to fly with her into the sky. As she grew up, those thoughts turned to finding the perfect fluffy cloud upon which to reward her savior from whatever dark horror he had vanquished on her behalf.
The kiss stole her power, transferring it to him, until the fingers that worked her soaked marehood on the restroom floor were shaking with weakness. With her love leaking openly down her thighs, she shimmied under the stall, crawled across the floor, and slapped her hands on the full length mirror that was hanging silently on one tile wall. She pressed hard against it, counting on its support as she climbed up onto shaking hooves.
The young mare in the mirror was something new - something she had become in the past week that was beyond her wildest desires. Before, her school uniform had been the least amount of clothing she would ever allow herself to have on in public, save for a swimsuit. But even her swimwear was always single-piece, cut for chastity, and often accompanied by an attached skirt. Now, her open blouse was riding lightly on her shoulders, exposing her bare breasts to the world, and her skirt was crooked over her hips, one side of it yanked nearly down to mid-thigh level.
Lust brought an uncharacteristic sneer to Fluttershy’s lips. The garments hanging from her lithe frame were the trappings of a sexually repressed society, and she felt a sudden, piercing need to be rid of them. She stood up straight and yanked the blouse away, before the swimming sensation in her head forced her to plant her palms on the mirror again for support. She kicked and squirmed, shimmying the confining skirt from her body until she was as utterly, exquisitely naked as the image of her fantasy.
She stared into the mirror, and found that other world waiting there for her.
In the murky locker room, her lover brushed her bangs out of her face and held her tightly, pressing her to him. The need to show him every bit of her arousal flooded her brain - she wagged her flowing tail like a puppy, stretching her wings out to their tips in a subtle gesture that others of her kind knew to be a mating signal.
In the restroom she stood on shaky legs, her hands and lips pressed up against the mirror as she made out with the glass. Her wings taut and her tail flagging, she bent one knee and drew its hoof to the tip on the floor, while the other leg remained straight and planted.
Again and again he kissed her, slow and deep, as though she had a huge button marked ‘take me’ on her forehead that he was casually mashing. He curled his finger around her chin and pulled her out of the kisses; her tongue reluctantly disentangling itself from his. He turned her face up to meet his, while his pre-seed matted the sunny coat of her naked tummy.
“...a-ahh...” Fluttershy whispered to the mirror, one hand plunging again into her nethers. “...P-professor…A-applejack...”
Whether placed by Fluttershy’s own mind or by the many trails the fumes had blazed there, the now cleared visage was unmistakable. Sparkling emerald eyes accompanied a cunning, downhome grin, dusted with freckles in all the right places. Applejack’s blonde locks were tied back in a smart tail; her grooming immaculate save for the collar of her white dress shirt, which was so perfectly rumpled it seemed purposeful. Her top two buttons were undone, and Fluttershy’s eyes reflected the teasing autumn orange of her broad sternum.
Fluttershy ran two fingertips along the mirror glass, at the same time running them along her new partner’s collarbone. She giggled ridiculously, completely unaware of the smattering of heart-shaped bubbles that floated away when she let out a heavy breath. Her fingers found her silent professor’s chin, and she caressed it with all the delicacy of a fine Georgia peach.
“...ah...nngah...”
Fluttershy tried to talk to the mirror, struggling through the fingers she simply couldn’t stop moving inside her engorged flower. “...mnn...i-if you w-want to...” She muttered softly, a bit of her old self still coming through in her words, “...y-you could m-make...make love to me...”
The eidolon that was Applejack stepped through the mirror, walking casually between her student’s fantasies. Dressed in smart black slacks with a heavy belt, Applejack stepped away from the pining, naked pegasus and merely gestured wordlessly to the row of sinks.
“Y-yes...o-okay…”
Fluttershy obeyed, but not before twirling in place on the tip of one hoof to provide her lover with a full view of all her secrets. She held her arms high, closed her eyes, and arched her neck to the ceiling, perceiving only the light from above on the outside of her eyelids as executed a perfect pirouette in place, one hoof on the opposite thigh. Her mane and tail coiled about her, moving with her dance as she showed off her trim waist, supple legs, and the foal-bearing perfection of her hourglass hips. She spread her wings wide again, fanning her primaries to add a touch of mating to her dance.
Applejack never said a word. With a knowing grin she simply settled herself against a wall, folded her arms, and appreciated the show.
Taking her cue, Fluttershy used a tiny bit of her wingpower to make the walk to the sink feel like a glide. She floated into position until her hands were wrapped firmly around either side of one sink. She glanced up, and her eyes were instantly captivated by the approach of her lover in the new mirror’s reflection.
“D-don’t cover it u-up...” Fluttershy whispered unnecessarily as ethereal hands clasped around her hips. “...t-take me bare...I’m in heat and I want it...”
Somewhere in the jumble of her thoughts, it occurred to Fluttershy that she’d felt as though she had been in heat nearly every day since the chemistry lab incident, even though she was quite certain she wouldn’t be ripe again for another two weeks. In her mind, Applejack shoved.
Fluttershy’s thoughts were gone.
With catlike poise, the young pegasus crawled onto the sink until she could press her lips up against the mirror glass again. Grace and youthful flexibility were on her side. She placed one knee on the sink, allowing the other leg to dangle down as she impaled herself on three fingers. It was a pale facsimile of her lover’s perceived girth, but it would have to do.
They rutted like beasts. Fluttershy mooshed her cheek into the mirror and cried out sharply, heedless now of being overheard. Stark naked, dripping wet with desire, and completely alone, she beat her wings and spread her channel, thrusting and digging at her petals, button, and all the special spots inside. From behind, the image of Applejack, her fly down and her shirt unbuttoned to the lacy cleft of her perky breasts, hammered Fluttershy to the tune of rhythmic squishing that seemed to echo off the walls.
“...ah...ahh...ohh...f-fastahh...m-more...nghf...” The words came without conscious control, as though somebody else was crying out things Fluttershy would never say in her own melodious voice, “...f-fuck m-me...oh please fuck me professahh...I th-think about it all the time...c-can’t stop wanting it...nghahh...!”
On the tip of her teacher’s imaginary organ, Fluttershy let herself go. A chain of orgasms rocked her like the shocks of an earthquake, giving rise to a sheet of white fire that tore through her mind and blew her fantasies away to nothingness around her. She lost count somewhere after the fourth or fifth climax, faltering only when coordination failed her - she fought to ease herself onto the floor, rather than careening off the sink and crashing into the hard ground.
Flat on her back and spread eagle down to her wings, Fluttershy stared at the humming fluorescent lights, her breasts heaving as she pumped needed oxygen through her body in high-pitched, squealing breaths. Her arm rose again, and she would have returned to her fantasies yet again, but pure exhaustion finally brought her palm gently down on her stomach instead.
The hour of no consequence, she lay there on the floor; stroking her tummy, murmuring about foals, and giggling at the few, heart-shaped bubbles that occasionally floated towards the artificial heavens.
* * * * *
In an empty hallway observed only by the stars of a clear night sky, Fluttershy stood before her locker.
She was staring into a magnetic mirror on the inside of her door, trying in vain to fix her hair with her fingers since she couldn’t remember what she had done with her brush. Her brush, her bra, her panties...it was becoming entirely too simple to conveniently ‘misplace’ certain key items. She could have sworn any of the missing items were in her locker, but a quick search turned up nothing.
Were they really not there? Or had some force beyond her perception simply encouraged her not to put them on that morning in the first place?
She glanced down at her closed blouse, and noticed that she had once again neglected to fasten the top two buttons. Her sailor scarf hid the transgression this time, but wearing her clothes in such ways had become so second nature, she often missed her own movements when making the sultry adjustments.
She stared into the small mirror and found her cheeks still slightly flushed. Her pink mane had gone frizzy, and the signs of sleep were pulling down on her eyerims.
They had told her to report it. She should report it.
Fluttershy grinned, kissed the mirror lightly, and closed her locker. Hefting her bag, her hooves began a rhythmic clacking towards the main entrance.
More than ever before, she felt alive, unfettered, and free. It might be lewd. It might be dirty. But it was liberating, and somewhere deep inside, she felt it was even helping to conquer the restraining emotion that bore her name.
One day soon, she might even be able to talk to a real, live stallion.
“Fluttershy?” A voice rent the silence, “That you? Sweety what are you doin’ here this time of night?”
Fluttershy jumped. There, emerging from the faculty lounge, was the prim and properly dressed figure of Professor Applejack, giving her a curious look.
“O-oh um, I, uh...had to go to the bathroom,” Fluttershy meeped.
“For four hours after class?” Applejack raised one brow and narrowed the other. “That’s what I’d call medical attention, sugarcube. You in any clubs or anything?”
Fluttershy hastily searched her mind for material with which to spin a web. “N-no, but...well, the flowers-” She pointed hastily down the hall towards the arboretum, “-the flowers were looking a little under the weather. It must be so hard on them, blooming out of season in a greenhouse like that. I...just wanted to help.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. Fluttershy had indeed been helping a flower to bloom.
Applejack reached up to tip her cap, found it missing, and ground her teeth in annoyance - Stetsons were not considered proper daily attire for her vocation. She walked past her student, her day bag slung over her shoulder.
“Well...alright. If you were anypony else we might have to have a chat about why you’re still here without bein’ in a club, but I know you mean well. You need a lift home?”
Fluttershy waved the offer away. It was tempting, but the very idea of being in Applejack’s car...surrounded by her scent... “No! I mean no...thank you. My house isn’t far. I’ll be alright.”
Applejack shrugged. “You take care, y’hear?”
Fluttershy watched her teacher head in the opposite direction. Applejack’s hips had a masculine sway, and she held herself with a certain simplistic pride that Fluttershy found irresistible.
“U-um, Miss Applejack...?”
Applejack turned, “Yeah?”
Fluttershy blinked. Blush crept up her cheeks, and she coughed lightly into her hand.
“...nothing. Have a nice night Ma’am.”
Applejack smiled innocuously. “Sure. You too.”
Fluttershy enjoyed the refreshing coolness of the night air on her skin as she walked home. She thought about it, and could have sworn she’d seen a bulge in her teacher’s pants – in a place a mare should not have one. As she tasted the crispness of autumn on her tongue, she came to the realization that if she wanted to get any sleep tonight, she might have to see about being discreet in her own bedroom after all.
That night, the cardboard box under her bed bathed in the light of the moon.
