Camp Councilor Timber Spruce stepped into the waiting room. “Celeste Luck?”

A slim anthro mare stood and smiled. “That’s us,” she said, stroking the flank of the filly beside her—she looked maybe ten or twelve. With lush vermillion manes and tails, they were clearly related, notwithstanding the fact the filly was full-blooded pony. “Come on sweetheart. It’s our turn.”

Spruce checked his clipboard. Applicant: Roseluck; mother: Celeste; date of birth…oh, wow. It was Rose’s birthday. She was turning twelve. “You must be Celeste,” he said, greeting the mother. “Welcome, welcome. Come on in.” Spruce held the door for them both and watched Celeste’s glossy tail swish. She’d had her skirt tailored to let it project—as well she should. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous.

He offered them both a seat—Celeste sat and crossed her legs while Roseluck leapt up onto hers, turned around twice and sat, curling her tail around her. “So, Celeste,” Spruce said, not sure whether this joke was going to fly or not, “you and Rose are, what, half-sisters?”

“She’s my Mom,” Rose said incredulously, flicking her mane. She’th my mom. Cute lisp—must be the braces.

“Your Mom?” Spruce said, copying her disbelieving tone. “As if anypony would believe that.”

Celeste watched on, smiling.

“I’m not a mare,” Rose’s green eyes—improbably large on her adorable tweeny-pony face—flashed with delight. “I’m only elev— I mean, I’m twelve.”

“Twelve? You’re kidding.” Spruce creased his face into frown and looked at his clipboard. “Well I’ll be darned. You are twelve…today?”

Rose nodded, beaming.

“Happy birthday.” He shot Celeste a wink. She’s going to be fine, it said. Rose seemed completely at ease. Her mother must have prepared her for this, or perhaps she had older pony-pals who’d been talking. Whatever, Spruce was happy. Nervous mares, nervous fillies—they complicated things. He liked Rose already, and he wanted things to stay super uncomplicated.

“Anyway,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “How can Camp Everfree help you ponies today?”

“Well,” Celeste began, “as Rose says, she turns twelve today, a-a-a-nd…”

“Ah, you’ve come for the pony-prep program.”

“Precisely.”

“Good, good. Just to let you know, I’ve done heaps of these, so you’re in capable hands.”

“My friend Fluttershy came here,” Rose said.

“Fluttershy’s two months older,” Celeste explained. “It’s all Rose’s sixth grade class is talking about, and she’s just been dying for her turn.”

“How flattering.” Spruce smiled and crossed his legs. “So, Rose, apart from what Fluttershy told you, have you read any books on this?”

Rose nodded. “I read Riding with Humans. Twice.”

“Oh great,” Spruce said. “That one’s my favorite. “What about Mom? Did she tell you what it was like for her?”

“It was a bit different for me,” Celeste said, indicating with a gesture her sleek anthro-pony body. “The age of consent for us over there is eighteen.” She stroked a hoof through Rose’s mane. “Ponies, on the other hoof…”

“Of course, of course.” Full blooded ponies like Rose weren’t human, so they weren’t subject to human laws, but being self-aware and intelligent, nor were they technically animals. When Equestria was first discovered, gifting humans an almost limitless supply of sleek, gorgeous little fillies, they wisely elected to adopt their age of consent for ponies—twelve.

“Pony-prep’s changed since I did it anyway,” Celeste said, twisting her mouth with a look of disappointment. “I went through when they did it at school.” She said the last word with a sarcastic twist.

Oh, no. You poor thing.” Spruce made a face. “Not—”

“Uh huh.” Celeste grinned broadly. “Stuffy old teachers with books and line drawings of human men and fillies.”

“And the colts all giggling and the fillies all blushing?”

Celeste laughed. “Exactly. Oh, it was awful. My dad was human, but I grew up in Equestria. The first time I visited your world, I learned more in two minutes in the back a Dodge than I ever did in those awful classes.”

Spruce winced good-naturedly. “Was it that bad?”

“He was terrible, and not exactly a stallion, if you take my meaning. Two minutes is being generous. But if you can’t laugh about it, you’ll cry. Still, I’m a little jealous—I’d have loved visiting Everfree at Rose’s age.”

And Everfree would have loved you, too, Spruce thought, admiring the way her skirt slid a little higher up her crossed legs. “Well, a lot of mares don’t look back fondly on those moments. Anthro or pony. That’s why we created our program, so fillies like Rose could do pony-prep with experts before meeting their first human men.” Spruce took a modest half-bow as he said it.

“We’re so lucky to have you.”

“Indeed.” He leaned forward, looking intently at Roseluck. “So, Rose—can I call you Rose?”

Rose smiled and nodded, sitting up straighter. Her vermillion mane bobbed jauntily, and the tip of her tail swished, curling delicately around her front hooves. She was really very pretty when she smiled, Spruce thought. He wondered whether the father was still in the picture. An Equestrian stallion, obviously, if he’d sired a full-blood filly with Celeste. He’d handed down some strong pony genes—Roseluck was prettier than Celeste, even, with a spray of freckles that hadn’t faded yet, and her face still bearing those delightfully foal-ish proportions—large eyes, long lashes, button nose. The braces gave her a pouty look, like her mouth was especially eager for some fresh new experience.

“Rose, have you and Mom done any of the exercises in the back of the book?”

“We haven’t,” Celeste replied for her. “You really need a second pair of hands for most of them, and Rose’s father isn’t living with us anymore, so…”

That answers that mystery. “Totally understandable,” Spruce said, holding up a ‘no more explanations’ hand. “Don’t worry about it. We do them all in this session anyway.” He turned back to Rose. “Rose, do you ever look at yourself in the mirror?”

Rose pursed her lips in thought. “You mean, like brushing my mane?”

Spruce laughed in a nice way—indulgent. “No sweetie, not brushing your mane. I mean a little lower down. Have you been looking at how your body’s changing?”

“Um, well, I’m starting to get boobs…kind of.” She sat up on her hindquarters and touched herself there, the hooves of both forelegs absently caressing her nipples, hidden discreetly beneath her coat.

Spruce had noticed the twin buds when she walked in; they had just enough weight to swell when she was standing on all-fours.

Rose smoothed the pelt down on her chest, showing Spruce their tender shape—tiny and round, the size of plums. Planting her forelegs back on the chair, they plumped up a little fuller.

“They’re sure coming along.” Spruce looked at Celeste’s bust, herself barely an A-cup. “You might end up bigger than Mom, maybe.”

“We can only hope,” Celeste laughed. “I dithered about wearing a bra today—most days I don’t bother.”

“Mmm, well if Rose is planning a trip to the human world, she might be about ready for a pony-blouse. Especially now she’s twelve. She’s going to be doing a lot of new things, soon. Am I right, Rose?”

“I hope so.” She turned to Celeste. “Mom, can we go clothes shopping tomorrow?”

“We’ll see, Rosebud. Let’s get you through today, first.”

“What about down lower, Rose?” Spruce said. “Have you tried sitting in front of a mirror to look between your hind legs?”

Rose shrugged. That probably meant yes.

“And how was that? Did you look inside? Does anything look different?”

“I dunno. Maybe.” Rose wobbled her head from side to side, flipping her mane out of her eyes. “It still looks like a bottom. I don’t know why fillies have two—colts are much more interesting.”

“Ha!” Spruce sat back, laughing. “Go and ask a colt, see which one he finds more interesting.” He quickly composed himself. “Sorry, but you’re quite right—the pony vulva does look very uninteresting at first glance, doesn’t it? Maybe we can change your mind on that today.” He looked questioningly at Celeste. “Do you mind if we…?”

“No, of course. God, that’s why we came.” She stood up. “Where do you want me?”

“Let’s sit you on the side of the examination table,” Spruce said, kicking out a little step so that Celeste could climb up. “And to get started, why don’t we get your blouse and bra off.”

Celeste swept her tail out of the way and perched on the paper-lined table with her knees modestly close and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs. She unfastened the buttons of her blouse one by one, working down from the neck and exposing a dainty, lace bra that matched her mane and tail.

When she peeled off the blouse, Spruce lingered a moment and enjoyed smooth, creamy coat covering her tummy, which extended almost up to her bra where human skin took over. She didn’t work out, he hazarded, but she didn’t need to. God, she had the body of a twelve-year-old herself.

“And the bra, you said?” she asked.

“Yes please.”

Celeste reached back to unhook it, arching prettily and shaking her long hair back over one shoulder.

Spruce swallowed. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of show she’d put on if she was trying to be sexy about it. She shrugged out of the loops and laid it aside.

Spruce saw a lot of mares with their tops off—anthro and pony alike—but few stacked up quite like Rose’s mom. Her breasts were shallow and almost perfectly round, just soft mounds of flesh with tight areolas and pointed nipples. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d never breast-fed. “They’re lovely,” he said.

“Oh, they’re nothing,” Celeste said. “You should’ve seen them when I was pregnant. B-cup bonanza. I did a lot of galloping on the beach before my belly got too big, I can tell you.”

Spruce laughed politely. “You’d never guess.” He placed one hand in the small of her back, gliding his fingers through her coat. “May I?”

“Of course.”

He caught Rose’s eye. “You hear that, Rose? Nopony has any right to touch you without your permission. Not even your camp councilor.”

Rose nodded sagely and clopped closer to watch.

Spruce cupped Celeste’s breast—well, cupped is perhaps the wrong word because it was far too small to fill his palm. He stroked the plump underside and lifted it with his fingers. It was so tight—firm to the touch. He squeezed the areola between his fingers, working the nipple until it hardened to a stony peak. It swelled larger and flushed with blood to a deep purple-brown. He drew Rose’s attention. “See here, Rose?” he said, rolling it back and forth in his fingers. “This little hollow on the end—that’s where the milk came from where you were a foal.” He looked up and caught Celeste’s eye. “Did you breastfeed?”

She nodded, looking back down at her nipple between Spruce’s fingers.

“Is there milk in there now?” Roseluck asked.

“Not anymore,” Spruce and Celeste answered together.

Celeste smiled self-consciously at Spruce. “Sorry, you go ahead.”

“The milk comes in when the foal is newborn,” Spruce said to Rose, ushering her closer, “but it dries up if you stop feeding for too long.” He bade her to stand on her hind legs and took one fore-hoof, encouraged her to explore her mother’s other breast. He squeezed the one he’d been holding and encouraged Rose to do the same. The filly had no thumbs, but she nudged it around with a fuzzy fetlock, making the soft flesh blush a lovely shade of pink.

“Hmm,” Rose said, stroking the areola as Spruce had done until it hardened. She flicked the rubbery tip back and forth with the tip of her hoof, smiling each time it sprang proudly back. “Will mine do that too when I have a baby.”

Celeste nodded.

“They’d might do it now,” Spruce said. “Do you want to try?”

Rose exchanged a questioning look with her mother.

Celeste nodded. Go for it, her eyes said. That’s what you’re here for.

“Okay.” Rose smiled back up at Spruce, beaming. Her, eyes sparkled—they seemed even bigger and brighter than before, like a princess pony readying to discover her cutie mark.

“Sit up here,” Spruce said, patting the exam table. “Maybe between Mom’s legs.”

Celeste shuffled back and hitched her skirt higher, giving Spruce a glimpse of pink panties that matched her discarded bra. She spread her legs and made space for Rose to leap up and position herself between them, turning and sitting once again on her hindquarters.

The twelve-year-old whinnied and wriggled to get comfortable. “I need more room, Mom.” She shuffled back as Celeste made more space, rocking her bottom and shuffling her closely placed forehooves. There was a little gap between those creamy fetlocks, and Spruce thought he might get a little glimpse of pony-pussy, but somehow it remained hidden.

Spruce stroked the points of her shoulders, just beneath her neck. “Okay?”

“Mm-hmm”

He stroked down over her pelt until he found the twin swellings and swept the cream-colored fur until her tiny nipples peeked out. He almost gasped. They were delightful. Surely they’d only been growing a couple of months, at most. Set wide apart on her flat chest, just the smallest, tenderest pillows, topped with sugar-drop nipples the color of coconut-ice.

“They’re not very big, yet,” Rose said in a quiet voice.

“Sweetie, they’re perfect,” Spruce said. “They’re just the right size for a little filly like you.” He got her to sit up straighter, raising her forelegs and balancing back against Celeste. He put his hands on her waist, his thumbs meeting over her belly-button. His fingers almost touched at the back; he squeezed a little, seeing if he could manage it, and Rose sucked in a breath to help. It was no good. Maybe if he’d met her when she was a little younger, but then those little titties wouldn’t be so goddam edible. No, she’d come to him at the perfect time. He shaped his hands beneath them, the webbing between thumb and forefinger describing a curve that perfectly traced the tiny swells.

Rose’s eyes met his again. They were wide and bright beneath the long fluttery lashes. My Little Pony eyes.

“May I?” he asked.

Rose swallowed, and after a moment she nodded.

Spruce asked the same question of Celeste with a knowing look.

“It’s okay, Rosebud,” she whispered in Rose’s ear, hugging her tight. “It feels really nice. I promise.”

Spruce stroked once with his thumb, kneading the soft fur in slow circles. Exquisite. Softer than Celeste’s. Her young coat felt delicate, like if he was too rough then he’d leave a scar. He did the same with the other one, circling, avoiding the nipple for the time being. “Is that okay?”

Rose whinnied nervously and licked her lips. “Uh-huh.”

“You want me to keep going?”

She nodded again. “Yes please.”

Spruce kneeled on the step. His face was about the height of Rose’s chest. “Rose, if a man respects you, he’ll do this for you every time you’re together.” He kissed her breast, nuzzling the fur, brushing his lips through the gently swollen underside. “If he’s just using his hands,” Spruce went on, talking between kisses, “don’t let him go any further until he does it properly.” He drew Rose’s areola into his mouth and sucked hard, eliciting a surprised gasp. He worked the other nipple with his fingers, gently rolling it, pinching, stroking the tender flesh underneath with his other fingers. “Men have clever lips and clever fingers. Do you feel the difference?”

“Y-yes.”

Rose’s chest shuddered beneath Spruce’s lips. He drew away an inch and blew cool air on the nipple. “Which one feels best?”

“This one,” Rose breathed, bringing her fetlock up to cup it, offering it again to his lips. Spruce returned with more passion, more venom. He used his teeth on her—gently, of course; it was only her first time and he didn’t want to frighten her. He did want to show her the adoration her young pony-body could elicit from a man, though. She deserved to know that for all the human and anthro cover girls out there, all the models and the porn stars, she was the one at the peak of her sexual beauty. Her young pony-body—not yet grown but so, so ripe—was a heavenly delight. With what he showed her today, a cutie like her might make…shit, who knows, ten thou’ a night in Camp Everfree—more if she got a stent. They weren’t exactly legal, but neither were twelve-year-old girls in the human world, and pre-teens ponies with stents were like fucking crack cocaine.

Swapping sides, Spruce nuzzled the other breast, voicing his approval with a soft growl. He used his nose, plowing it through the pillowy flesh, licking her pebbly nipple in long, glorious swipes.

Rose held them both for him and he dropped his hands. She offered him one, then the other, whinnying softly whenever he sucked the nipples. She pushed them together with her hooves, trying to lend herself cleavage. Spruce nibbled at the tips, moving back and forth like he was watching a tennis match, making a game of it with her and earning himself an amused giggle from the filly.

He stroked her tummy casually with his knuckles, fingertips venturing downward, dangerously close to her virgin center, which was tantalizingly hidden between her hind legs . Had Celeste noticed? Perhaps. He didn’t much care. The pony-prep program gave him an almost free rein. The world just about fucking ended when humans discovered Equestria. Sentient, intelligent ponies—they didn’t know whether to nuke ‘em or build a wall to keep them out. But then some genius YouTubed a perfectly legal twelve-year-old filly getting her smooth, virgin slit plowed by a big black human dick. A billion hits in forty-eight hours. The clop-clop porn internet boom preceded the first ads on Craigslist by about a week. Pre-teen slut-ponies began cashing in. Organizations like Camp Everfree soon followed, providing weeklong stays for humans and a selection of the finest fillies to entertain them. A cutie like Roseluck would go five grand, easy. Ten if she’d do two guys at once. Even a plain looking pony could fetch a grand or so—providing she was clean and smooth.

Viva la free market. Spruce fancied Rose would amass quite a college fund working vacations at Everfree, even before she finished junior high.

He stroked a thumb over her pussy, just a graze, a touch—a reminder if she needed it, about what it was that men would want from her. Her breath caught and her thin chest shuddered. He nuzzled her breast fiercely, growling low in his throat. He wanted her badly, and he was letting her know it. She was exquisite, so pure and unexplored. Her body teemed with hormones, rattling their cage and screaming how ripe she was. Timber Spruce was going to set them free.

Rose blew out a long breath, almost whistling. Spruce felt it ruffle his hair.

How could she not know? Men would do anything—literally anything—to have her tiny pony body, and it was his job to show her. Every time she galloped around one of the crossover parks, dicks were getting hard for her, watching her do pony cartwheels in the grass, just hoping for a glimpse if her tail swished the right way. And fillies like Rose were completely oblivious, teasing them mercilessly just by being themselves.

Spruce felt her body soften as she relaxed into the caressing, and perhaps began to get the first inkling of her power. With instinctive sexuality, she arched her pony breasts into his tongue and opened her hind legs wider. He stroked her pussy again, tracing the edges of her puffy lips, finding the sleek center line with a searching fingertip. He touched her clitoris, rocking back and forth over the top.

Rose whimpered. Had she ever explored that place? It thrilled Spruce to think he was playing tour guide, introducing her to fresh pleasures that had been right there for the taking. Such a waste it would be to indulge them by herself. Soon she would grow and mature. Not that it would be too late—adolescents, mares, men never tired of Equestria’s sleek, perky ponies—but they would have sweet Roseluck now, over and over, alone or in pairs while her straining pony pussy was still too small to take their full length.

“Mr. Spruce?” Celeste said. “We probably should keep moving. I need to get Rose back to school before third period.”

It took an almost physical force, but Spruce released her. He longed to slip between the plump outer lips of her sex. Sighing, he treated each sugar-drop nipple to one final suck before stepping back. “Was that nice, Rose?”

“Hmm?” Rose opened her eyes and batted her lashes. She seemed disoriented. “Is that all?”

“It’s not even nearly all, sweetheart,” Spruce said. “We’re just getting started.” He touched her young breasts again—he was powerless not to. “See, they’re hard. Just like Mom’s.” He rolled a nipple between his fingers, bringing it back to a stiff peak.

“What are we going to do next?” Rose asked, jumping down with a clatter of hooves. Her voice betrayed a breathy hint of eagerness.

“Well, if Mom’s ready”—Spruce exchanged a look with the bare-breasted Celeste, whose big eyes flashed almost as excitedly as Rose’s—“then we can take a look at her downstairs and show you what mares look like up close. Do you want to do that?”

Rose nodded, following Spruce’s eyes to the sheer strip of pink gauze between her mother’s legs. There was a dark blot in the middle, Spruce was delighted to see—evidence of Celeste’s rising anticipation for what he had in store for her foal.

Author's Note

My first foray into FimFic. Please be gentle. Obviously, I have only the barest passing familiarity with the canon. I have taken some liberties and introduced non-canon features listed below. I know this can be flame-bait in fanfics, so please gently correct me where I've overstepped, or where I could use real canon to better effect.

• Travel between Equestria and the human world is open, allowing EG humans and ponies to interact.
• Anthros are the product of pony-human mating. An anthro woman can bear a pony foal sired by a stallion, or an exotic human (Equestrian Girl) sired by a man.
• Roseluck's mother here is an anthro, Celeste. I don't think Rose's parentage is revealed in canon, so this should be consistent. The name Celeste is arguably over-used, but then so is Madison in the human world. Deal with it.
• Fillies develop human-like breasts. This is porn, and human-like erogenous zones are generally more arousing than equine ones.
• Ponies have a coat / pelt (and anthros have a partial coat). This is presumed in the canon, but their coats are drawn so sleek as to be skin. Porn is tactile, so I had to make a decisive call either way. Hopefully it works for more than the furries out there.
• I've coined terms for erotic effect, like tweeny-pony and pony-pussy. If this is bad form, let me know.

Thanks for reading. More chapters are coming. The whole thing runs to about 22K words.