Harmony University: Riding the Storm

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Mall Fall
Chapter 2 - Shattered
Chapter 3 - Rebuilt
Chapter 5 - Return to the Mall
Chapter 6 - MiAC
Chapter 7 - Senior Year
Chapter 8 - Gilda
Chapter 4 - Home Sweet Mistress

Chapter 1 - Mall Fall

Cyclone slowly woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfect invading her nostrils. She listened, but for the moment the room was silent apart from her own laboured heavy breathing and the beeping of machinery. The eighteen year old felt the tubes in her arms no doubt connected to the beeping things that were monitoring her.

The next thing Cyclone felt were hands holding hers. On her left was a small soft hand she instantly recognised as belonging to her girlfriend, Bluefeather. The hand holding her right felt older, but no less feminine. Mom…

Slowly, very gradually, Cyclone opened her blue eyes and, squinting in an attempt to sharpen the blurred images before her, she looked to her left and she barely made out her girlfriend sat by her side. As she suspected, she was holding her hand. The grey fingers intertwined with her black ones.

It looked like Bluefeather had been crying. A lot. Why had she been crying?

Cyclone tried to figure it out, but her brain was being remarkably uncooperative, even more so than usual. Turning her head slightly, she glanced to her right and, sure enough, there was her mother, Monsoon, sat holding her other hand, just below a collection of tubes that were running into her lower arm.

She tried to process what was happening, tried to work out why her mother and girlfriend were sat at her hospital bed, both looking like they hadn’t slept in days. Both of them had been crying, they both looked dishevelled and unkempt. Why?

Cyclone was missing something. Something big. No matter how hard she tried though, her brain couldn’t penetrate the fogginess of just waking up. She glanced around and took in the blue and white colour schemed hospital bedroom.

What was she missing?

The teenager closed her eyes and rested back on the pillow of the hospital bed she was laid in, in the hospital room she was staying in, and thought of her crying mother and girlfriend, holding her hands in the hospital room.

Then it hit her.

She was in hospital.

Why was she in hospital?

She shouldn’t be in hospital.

Cyclone opened and closed her eyes again and she tried hard to think. No matter how hard she tried though, it wasn’t coming to her. The last thing she remembered was…it was…

“H-Hey…” the dry croaky hoarseness in her voice surprised her, like she hadn’t spoken in days, “W-Wh-Where’s the mall gone?” The room she was in was definitely not part of the Canterlot City mall.

The moment Cyclone spoke, the two hands holding hers squeezed tightly, which was good, because the pain made her wake up a little faster. She was aware of Bluefeather sobbing, a sound she hated to hear. “I…I wish we’d never gone to the stupid mall…”

“Honey,” Monsoon spoke up, her voice sounding like it had gone through a sink strainer, sounding as tired and worn out as she looked, “You're in a hospital.”

“B-Blue?” Cyclone looked again to her left, then over to her right. “A hospital?” she asked stupidly, seemingly unable to believe what her senses were telling her. It sounded like a hospital, it smelled like a hospital, but she was still a little groggy. “Don't be silly, I can't be in hospital.” she looked around again and the room, that was undoubtedly a hospital room, “Why am I in hospital?”

Tears began to stream down Bluefeather’s grey cheeks, staining them more than they already were. “A fight broke out at the mall,” she began to explain what had happened, “And you were one of the casualties.”

When Bluefeather closed her eyes, she could see it. She could hear it. It was like she was there reliving it. Juniper Montage, twenty foot tall, chasing a girl she didn’t recognise around the mall. There had been shouting, arguing, the crashing of chairs, then in a rage, Juniper had thrown a sunglasses stall…

“You were hurt pretty bad, honey,” Monsoon spoke calmly, far more so than she actually felt, “It's Monday afternoon.”

That stunned Cyclone, enough to look away from Bluefeather to her mother, “Of course it's not Monday, mom. It's Saturday!” how could her mother be so dim? “Blue and I are going shopping for your birthday tomorrow.” She turned her head back to her girlfriend, “Remember, you're mad at me for leaving the gift thing so late?”

As Bluefeather sniffled and she started to cry anew, Monsoon displayed an incredible amount of self-control when she spoke next. “Honey,” her voice nonetheless trembled with emotion, “There are more important things than my birthday…more important things to...well, to think about now. You were hurt really bad, in the mall.”

“Wait,” Cyclone uttered, though she was really struggling to get her brain to work through the anaesthetic fog of awakening, “I think I remember the mall. Yeah,” she sounded more confident the more she spoke, “I remember Blue parked up, I was being a brat cos she pulled me away from the Power Ponies marathon.” She then looked back to Bluefeather, “What fight? I don't remember a fight. And how was I hurt?”

Bluefeather tried to speak. She opened her mouth but nothing came out except a strange, strangled noise and a cough that led to more tears spilling down her cheeks. After impersonating a fish four times, she chose to say nothing, but she squeezed Cyclone's hand all the harder.

Taking pity on the distraught teenager, Monsoon said, “Your spine was broken at the L2, at the small of your back. The doctors couldn't fix the spinal cord. They did put rods in your back to stabilize the damage so it would go higher.”

“I'm so sorry!” Bluefeather cried, her shoulders heaving with each sob that came out, each rolling tear that dripped onto the floor of the hospital room.

“Hahahahaha!” Cyclone laughed, “Good one, mom, broken back, yeah right...” she looked back and forth again, between Bluefeather and Monsoon in the hopes that either one or both of them would furnish her with much needed details, but none seemed to be forthcoming, just cascades of tears. She tried to move, to sit up, but nothing happened. Surely it couldn’t be… “Why can't I feel...” she started to put two and two together in her head, “I can't feel my legs. This is a prank, right? It has to be. It is, right? Right?”

“I'm so sorry!” Bluefeather exclaimed, sniffing and sobbing. She was a pretty girl, but she was an ugly crier. Her cheeks were red and puffy, her eyes bloodshot, her nose full of snot.

“It’s no prank, Cy,” Monsoon said as kindly as she could, “But more cruel fate. They did arrest the person that did this to you.”

“Who?” asked Cyclone, the teenager feeling her temper starting to rise, with all the tears and the half explanations she was getting. “Who did what, exactly? I don't remember being in any fight, mom. The last thing I remember is going past the cinema at the mall, it was showing the new Daring Do picture, the uh…Sword of Altoriosa.”

“C-Cy, I-I'm sorry!”

Taking a deep breath, for she knew there would be time enough for her tears later when she was at home, Monsoon explained, “A girl named Juniper Montage tossed a mall stand and it hit you right in the back. It knocked you clean out.”

“Why the hell do you keep saying sorry!?” Cyclone snapped at Bluefeather, shocking the anguished girl so much that she stopped crying. Then she turned her head back to her mother, “Juniper Montage, you mean the movie theatre girl?” Cyclone scoffed, “She threw a stand? Have you seen her? She's like, one fifty six, soaking wet!” the very idea that Juniper could throw anything that size was ludicrous.

When Cyclone snapped at her, Bluefeather threw her head back and bawled like her life was at stake, “I made you go to the mall! It’s my fault!”

“I don't know how, honey,” Monsoon had read the report, she had seen the scene of destruction at the mall. She had seen it, but she was working on believing it. “I just know that's who they arrested for the damage. There was some other girl involved, but she’s disappeared.”

“So...” Cyclone tried her best to process what had happened, All in all, she thought she was doing pretty well. “Juniper threw a stand. It hit me. Broke my back. So...what? Guess I'll be off my feet for a bit, huh?” With all the track training she had been doing lately, she could use a rest.

Apparently though, those last few words from Cyclone had been a poor choice, because they triggered Bluefeather into bawling more and more. “Honey,” Monsoon had to struggle to make herself heard over the crying teenager, “The doctors, they couldn't fix your spinal cord. You're paralyzed from the waist down.”

“No, I'm not!” Cyclone yelled over the noise of the crying, “Don't be daft, of course I'm not. I can't be paralysed! There's the big track meet over at Crystal Prep next month!” there was no way at all she was handicapped, she had been in training for that for months!

Now, Monsoon was crying. She just couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Cy, I uh, well…I'm not going to lie to you, not at a time like this.”

“Mom please! Stop it!” Cyclone screamed in her mother’s face, or she would have, if she had been able to sit up instead of just laying there, “I've been training for this meet since before the Friendship Games!” in desperation, she turned back to Bluefeather, “Blue, I'm not paralysed right? Not now! I can't be! Rainbow just moved me up to the main team from the reserves!”

With much difficulty, Bluefeather stopped crying, and she just shook her head. Again, it fell to Monsoon to explain to her daughter what her future was going to be. “There’s no treatment to repair the damage to your back, honey. Now you're awake, the next thing you'll need to do is physical therapy so you can regain some mobility with the aid of a wheelchair.”

“But...But I'm in hospital!” Cyclone exclaimed in a stunning show of stubbornness, “They mend people in hospital, that's the whole point of a hospital! Get a doctor, get one in here, and he'll tell you.”

Not that she was unsympathetic, of course she was, but she had to make her daughter see. “He'll tell you that you need to start a new life with the body you have now,” she explained as softly and calmly as she could, “There is something more important for you to do right now. Get Blue to stop blaming herself. I'll be back in a few minutes.” She let go of Cyclone's hand and she walked out of the room.

“Blue,” Cyclone tried to curb her temper, but it was simmering below the surface, “Did I really get a stand in the back at the mall?”

“Y-Ye…” Bluefeather paused and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, “Yeah, I um, I was looking at some phones at a stand past the movie theatre and I heard a mad argument and a loud tearing sound behind us. I turned just in time to see you go flying after it hit you. I... I panicked, and I froze up.”

“And Juniper really threw it?” Cyclone sighed; it just wasn’t possible! “We know Juniper! She always gives us the best seats in the theatre.” She sighed again, because thinking this hard was making her brain hurt. “Whatever, I guess. Tell me she's been sent down for a hundred thousand years.”

“I don't know, Cy, I just don’t know,” Bluefeather spoke to either the floor or to the bed. Try as she might, she couldn’t look at her girlfriend, not knowing she was to blame. “I know they arrested her. She, it was so weird, Cy, she was like, over twenty foot tall like the she hulk and this purple girl was yelling at her to stop. They still haven't found her.”

“Sounds like something from the Power Ponies,” Cyclone laughed, though there was little mirth in her, because as the proud owner of every single Power Pony comic ever printed – including the rare super-size issue five – she would know, “And it broke my L2?”

“The doc can explain it better,” Bluefeather replied sadly, “But yeah, it broke your back.”

“That's me never walking again then,” Cyclone might be a jock, but she wasn’t dumb, far from it. “You remember, we did the spine in biology a few months ago?” she asked with a despondent groan, a groan that despaired for her life, what was left of it, anyway.

Bluefeather simply shrugged her shoulders, misery etched all over her face, “I didn't hear a lot of the detail, Cy, they talked to your mom and dad a lot about that.” Honestly, all the medical terms she had used were like a foreign language to her.

“At least you won't have to put up with me stepping on your feet at the next school dance,” Cyclone didn’t know where that came from. Her idiot brain worked funny sometimes. If she analysed it, she’d know she was using humour as a defence mechanism, but she wasn’t one for self-reflection. As Bluefeather teared up and shook her head, Cyclone reached up and stroked her girlfriend's cheek, “I'll run over them with a wheel instead!”

Not prepared for that, Bluefeather snorted out a laugh, then she felt wretched for laughing when things were so bad. “Cy, that's horrible!” However, when she leant over the side of the bed and placed her forehead against Cyclone's, she was still laughing, “I still love you.”

“Made you laugh, though, nana,” Cyclone smiled weakly and she tenderly kissed her girlfriend's forehead, “I'm so sorry I was such a brat, Blue.”

Bluefeather didn’t mind Cyclone being a brat. It let her know she was still her. “If I hadn't been looking at phones, I might have been able to push you out of the way.”

“And then you'd have been flattened instead of me,” the black skinned teen sighed dejectedly and again she kissed her girlfriend’s forehead, “It's my fault for not getting mom's birthday present earlier, like months or weeks earlier, like you said.”

When she heard her girlfriend blame herself, Bluefeather frowned at her, “The fault is with Juniper's and that other girl that set her off, not with you, Cy.” The grey skinned girl shuddered, “I-I was so scared. One of the mall cops came running over when I started screaming. He called the ambulance for you.”

“Then, I'm glad you can scream really loud,” Cyclone smiled, though it was a smile that masked a lot of feelings that she was barely keeping a lid on. “I love you, Blue.”

“I love you too, and I'm sorry that you have to go through this,” replied Bluefeather just as the door to the hospital room opened and in walked Monsoon and a doctor so ancient looking that it was a miracle he was still alive.

“I'm not going through it alone, am I?” Cyclone squeezed her girlfriend’s hand then she flinched and gasped, certain for a moment that her mother had bought Death himself to her hospital room. “U-Uh…hey doc…”

“Hello Cyclone,” the doctor, who was six feet and as far through as a goalpost, glided over the floor until he was beside his patient’s bed. “My name is Bone Graft. Your L3 vertebrate was shattered when you took the hit,” he got straight to the point, “There are three titanium rods from L2 to L5 in your back and a silicone spacer where your L3 used to be. You underwent two surgeries over the weekend and we got all the foreign material out of your body on the first one, and the rods on the second. Any questions yet?”

“L3,” Cyclone mulled over what that meant for her, because forcing her brain to work took her mind off the doctor’s gaunt appearance, “So I'm in a wheelchair then, right? Am I right thinking I'll have toilet troubles with a break down there?” She had to admit, she wasn’t too keen on that one.

Bone Graft reached into one of the many pockets of his long white coat and produced an acupuncture needle, “If I might demonstrate?”

Cyclone wondered if the doctor was naturally creepy or if it was an act he worked on, because the way he was brandishing the needle like it was a stiletto blade was seriously creeping her out. Still, with her mother and girlfriend present, she felt rather brave. “uh, yeah, you do that.”

“First, the bad news,” Bone Graft moved down the bed until he was at her feet, “You've lost total motor control below the hips.” He then moved the white bedsheet so that her right foot was exposed and he put the needle into the space between the big and second toe.

As Cyclone looked at her unresponsive foot, she could feel her athletic career – everything she had trained so hard for - falling away, as out of her grasp now as a dream when one wakes up. “So, I'm really not running again. Okay.”

“Not with today's medical knowledge, I’m afraid.” Bone Graft moved up his patient’s body and he poked her a second time, this time above the knee and he got no response. He poked a third time just below her navel.

“Ow!” Cyclone flinched at the last poke of the needle just below her belly button, “Okay, I felt that last one.”

A rare smile crossed the elderly doctor’s face, an act that cracked his lined face, “That’s some good news. You will feel pressure from the inside. You should have bowel control. While you can feel your bladder getting full, you won't have control to open the valve for it to empty. There are two solutions for that, one is physical, the other medical. If you do nothing, once there is enough pressure it will force its way out, but will never empty till more pressure builds.”

The jet black teenager didn’t much like the sound of that. Cyclone was allergic to pain, she avoided it as much as she possibly could. “That sounds painful, and I'm guessing it could do me damage? Okay, so what's the medical solution?”

“We disable the valve,” explained Bone Graft, as much to Monsoon as to Cyclone, “You would want to wear something for incontinence, but physical therapy will help teach you to recognize when you need to go so you can do so. Disabling the valve just means it takes a lot less pressure to empty.”

“You'd make me incontinent,” Cyclone mulled it over in her bed, “Well...I guess I wouldn't have to pretend when I wear a nappy in future.”

“The physical way is a catheter which means you always go,” stated Bone Graft, as he consulted the teenager’s notes at the foot of the bed, “Either into a bag, or a nappy as you put it. That requires daily cleaning. They are disposable so you'd also replace them daily.

Cyclone was in danger of getting overwhelmed by all the information being thrown at her by the old doctor. She didn’t know what it was, but he seemed to delight in throwing technical stuff at her. “Mom, Blue,” she groped for help, “What do you think?”

“Well,” Bluefeather shrugged, at as much of a loss as her girlfriend, “You'll be wearing a nappy either way.”

“I suppose it depends on how much control you want,” said Monsoon, who was stood beside the doctor and paying enough attention for her and her daughter. She knew Cyclone wouldn’t follow it all, and besides, she’d have to tell her husband when she got home.

“Continuing on,” Bone Graft said as though he hadn’t been interrupted at all, “You can still get pregnant. I do not need to know your sexual experience or preferences, but it will be less satisfying than before.”

Before Cyclone or anyone else could interject again, the doctor carried on, anticipating the next question. “As for getting out of here, you will have another week of bedrest so we can be sure the rods are holding in place. Then it will be one month of therapy to get you ready for a wheelchair. Another month of therapy to give you mobility in the wheel chair. Four more months of therapy to let you stand with crutches. You will not be able to walk with crutches, but it is nice to be able to stand.”

“Alright,” Cyclone processed as best she could what the old man had told her. He reminded her of an exposition dump from one of her Power Pony comics. She hated those. “So, I'll go for the medical bladder option, then, I guess it's months of therapy for me. Wohoo.” she smiled sarcastically, “And I'll be doing my school stuff at the same time.”

“If you follow your therapy, you should be ready to start school, but you’ll be in a wheel chair,” Bone Graft tried a more sympathetic tone. It didn’t suit him. “By the time you graduate, you should be able to stand with assistance. Your legs cannot lock themselves.”

Determinedly, Cyclone nodded, “I understand, doctor. I'll follow the therapy, cos this one,” she reached for and squeezed Bluefeather's hand, “She won't let me just give up.”

Immediately, Bluefeather squeezed back, a look of determination that matched Cyclone’s burning in her eyes, “I won't as long as you keep me on track too.”

“She was a runner, doctor,” Monsoon said, “Will she be able to race again, will they teach her to race again?”

Bone Graft looked incredulously at Monsoon like the woman had grown three extra heads. “Of course she can race again,” he responded with a shake of his head, “She isn’t asking to fly, of course she can race! You need a special chair for racing, and other sports. It can be done.”

“Hey,” the jock in Cyclone was very quick to see the upside of this particular situation, “At least if I race in a chair, then it's something I can be better than Rainbow at, for once!”

That meant nothing to Bone Graft, who was unaware of anything culturally after eighteen ninety-five. “Now for the mundane. Your legs will need to be exercised daily. There is a machine that insurance will cover to do that at home. Your blood flow is fine, but you'll need to do isometric exercises to prevent the muscles from atrophy.”

“Alright,” that sounded like training. She was good at training. Cyclone was good at physical exertion that didn’t require much thinking. “So that’s stuff I can do. Therapy. Exercise. I'm no stranger to that. I want to keep racing. If I have to do it in a chair, then I’ll do it in a chair.”

“It will greatly improve your quality of life,” Bone Graft checked his watch, “If there are no more questions, I'll leave you be for the rest of visiting hours.”

“Thanks doctor,” Bone Graft gave Cyclone a wave of his hand and took his leave, closing the door behind him. When the three were alone in the blue and white hospital room, a thought suddenly occurred to her, “Hey mom, where's dad at?”

“He’s at work, filming ‘Night of the Giving Head’ and ‘Ocean’s Eleven Inches’ on location,” Monsoon explained, with a judicious roll of her eyes. “It seems the models – I mean, the ‘actresses’ - can't come to him. He flew out this morning and will be back tomorrow. He was here yesterday, even though we knew you wouldn't wake until today.”

Cyclone nodded her head, at the same time, she stifled a yawn. All this extra thinking she was doing was making her sleepy again. Either that, or the drugs in her system were affecting her again. “Mom, if it is Monday, does this get me a pass for missing your birthday yesterday?”

“No way!” laughed Monsoon, who was back in the seat she had occupied before, holding her daughter’s right hand, “Because I'm having the party tomorrow. At my age, it’s just another trip around the sun.”

“Nice try, Cy,” Bluefeather giggled, like Monsoon, she was holding her girlfriend’s left hand, “We’ve already cleared it with the hospital to have the party here.”

“That's so unfair!” Cyclone pouted playfully, “Blue, did we at least get the thing we were going to get on Friday, babes?”

All of a sudden, Bluefeather’s grey cheeks became an intense burning red, “Um, no...”

Then there was only one thing for it. “Blue,” Cyclone thought quickly, “Do you feel up to an emergency solo mall mission to get 'the thing'?” she added in a loud stage whisper, “You know if there's a party, then the commander in chief over there will want her present.”

After the briefest moment, Bluefeather nodded. Monsoon reached over the bed and patted the girl’s shoulder, “I'll drive you and sit in the food court while you shop, unless it’s for take out.”

When Bluefeather laughed, Cyclone squeezed her hand until she winced. “I want to see more of that, baby. Please smile for me.”

At first, Bluefeather’s smile was a thin tremulous one. Then she nodded, gathered herself and her second attempt was a real genuine smile. That done, she leant down and placed a tender kissed Cyclone’s lips, “I can try.”

“And if should you see Captain Dash on your perilous travels,” Cyclone smiled and returned the kiss as best she could since she was laid on her back, “Do tell her I want to see her.”

“I'll let Coach Iron Will know how you are.”

~ ~ ~

Nurse True Heart, an immense Griffon woman who was over six feet tall and just about the same width, a Griffonstone native of pure bad mood and bulging muscle, nodded a greeting to the man who had just entered the hospital room. “Good day, Mr. Tropical Storm, I have just added the counter to the IV, she should wake in a few minutes. She will be a bit groggy for about five minutes.”

“Thank you nurse,” taking the seat to his daughter’s right that his wife favoured, Tropical Storm looked at the Power Pony comic on the night stand by the bed, and he was quite happy to have bought her the next issue that she didn't have.

Tropical Storm looked around the hospital room at the remnants of Monsoon’s birthday party from the day before. A smile crossed his lips, crossed a face as black as his daughter’s. That had been a good party alright, even in hospital. True Heart had even left up the cheery balloons and birthday banners.

“Uuuuuugh...” Cyclone groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. Again, she woke up feeling groggy and nauseous, her senses assailed by the stinging disinfectant that was everywhere. Again she was greeted by the blue and white hospital room. This time though it was broken up by the brightly coloured clusters of balloons and birthday banners. “Uh…B-Blue?”

“I’m afraid not,” Tropical Storm removed his fedora and ruffled his unruly mop of blue hair. Cyclone got her turquoise hair from her mother, her black skin from him. “Bluefeather and Monsoon will be here to see you in about an hour or so.”

Now fully awake at the sound of her dad’s voice, Cyclone turned her head to the right and smiled, “Hey stranger. You're a few days late.”

Holding up the latest Power Pony comic as a peace offering, Tropical Storm winked at her but didn’t give it over just yet. “It’s a good thing you didn't wake up any earlier.”

“You'd have caught me in my latest escape attempt,” after sharing a fist bump with her dad, Cyclone beckoned him to come closer, “I don't like this hotel, dad. They keep knocking me out and operating on me.”

“Don't worry,” the easy smile reached Tropical Storm’s twinkling eyes, “The latest cut wont detract from you modelling career. Blue told me all about your nappy play. Is she a good nanny?”

At the mention of the ABDL play she indulged in with her girlfriend, Cyclone’s already wide smile grew ever wider, “She's the best nana ever!” slightly though, her smile faded, “I wish she wouldn't keep beating herself up though. I mean, True Heart could do that for her. I swear she was a prison warden in a past life in Griffonstone.”

“She’s the sort of nurse I'd love to have in one of my Playcolt spreads,” laughed Tropical Storm, “But she shot me down before I could even ask.”

“What, The Sperminator…ooh! Don’t tell me, Laid in Manehatten!” Cyclone laughed along with her dad and then she pounded her head back onto her pillow and looked up at the ceiling in frustration, “This fucking sucks dad!”

“That it does.” Unlike his wife, Tropical Storm didn’t admonish his daughter for swearing. “Life doesn't play fair or pick favourites, but one good thing. You're still here with us.”

“Yeah, wohoo,” Cyclone snarked in a deadpan fashion, “I've gone from Filli-Second to Hum Drum, but at least I'm still here. How very wonderful, not.”

“Oh,” Tropical Storm raised his eyebrows but not his voice, “Would you care to tell that to Blue? Then your girlfriend can really beat herself up.”

At all once, Cyclone’s frustration gave way to a look of deep guilt at what she had said. “I’m sorry, dad, I just...it's a lot to take in, okay? I keep going from jokes to wanting to smash something to wondering what I'm gonna do next, now I'm useless!”

“Well,” and this time, Tropical Storm didn’t bother to keep the flash of irritation from his voice, “For useless there is a door stop, a box store greeter, or pan handling. Of course if you're not useless there is lover, racer, and cutest nappy wearing centrefold spread.”

Cyclone turned her special deadpan look to her chuckling dad. “That's five minutes before you pitched your magazine at me. That's gotta be a record,” she sighed despondently, “Of course I don't think I'm useless, dad, I just had to get it out, y'know? I can't vent to mom, she'll start crying!”

“I've teased you about that starting on your eighteenth birthday,” Tropical Storm spoke kindly, “You're as useless as you want to be. I don't think you want to be useless at all, but life sure has handed you a bushel of lemons. Blue is still with you. Monsoon isn't going anywhere. But…on Friday I fly out to Vanhoover to start scouting for ‘Anal Princess Diaries Three’.”

“Are you seriously telling me there's really a call for wheelchair bound nappy wearers?” asked Cyclone with a shudder, “Don't answer that, because of course there is. People are weird.” She sighed deeply, “I love Blue and I love mom, but the way they walk on eggshells makes me want to scream at them! I'm not gonna break, well...any more than I already have, any way…”

“You’d best get your screaming out at me then,” Tropical Storm understood what his daughter meant. She had to get it of her system or she’d explode keeping it inside. “Better than at those two. I was told you're here for another month of rehab before they let you go home.”

“Sentenced to another month in the Griffonstone Gulag. Seriously,” Cyclone snorted, “Have you seen the slop that True Heart calls food?” she threw up her hands and grunted, “At least mom and Blue come. Dash and the track team are nowhere!”

“Have you questioned why?” asked Tropical Storm amusedly, “You've been in here less than a week. Blue told me she texted Dash, who is on tour right now as it is summer. I don't know if she has told any of the track team, since it is summer and may have no idea who is in town. If you want to do a pity parade, I can get some more tissues for you.”

“Oh hush, dad,” Cyclone stuck her tongue out, “I'm only feeling a little sorry for myself. I did get a mall stand thrown at me; you know. And I know it's summer!” as soon as she snapped, she sighed and her ire evaporated almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I'm being a brat again.”

“Yes, you are,” Tropical Storm snickered, “But you're my brat. If you're not too busy crying, I have this for you.” He produced the next issue of Power Ponies comic from under his arm like he was a magician flourishing a bouquet of flowers from thin air. “I heard you couldn't get out to the comic store.”

“The latest issue!” Cyclone clapped her black hands with undisguised glee, “Part six of the crossover with the Exploding Ninja Pirates! I've been counting the days to see how they stop the Nightmare Child at the Gates of Elysium!”

“You know, Cy,” Tropical Storm said as he handed over the comic book, “Hum Drum isn't all bad, but if you can't be Fili-Second, who do you want to be?”

“I dunno dad,” as much as she wanted to devour every page of the comic, she set the comic aside for the time being, to read later when she could savour it in peace. “I wanna be me, I want to race. I want to win. Like Mistress Marevellous, I guess. She's strong, smart, resourceful…”

“Maybe the number one fan should write to the Orbsah overlords and suggest that they ought to include a character like you in the comic,” suggested Tropical Storm, “If only a bit part. As for the sports. There are several wheelchair sports, you know. You still have your upper body, and I'm sure you'll look pretty good buff.”

Laying back in the bed, Cyclone giggled, “You really want me in that magazine, huh? Buff Wheelchair Babes?” her giggles became a laugh, “I know there's para sports, dad, and well, I might as well put True Heart's torture therapy to good use.”

“Actually, I don't want you in the pages of Playcolt, Cy,” Tropical Storm said with a sly smile, “Won't stop me from teasing you about it. Just be happy I don't tease Blue. Look into yourself and make a better you in the frame work you have to deal with.”

“You’d better not stop teasing me!” Cyclone giggled and playfully thumped her dad’s arm, “That was a cheesy speech, dad, but I love you any way.”

“I think you said it best, Cy. Your life fucking sucks right now. You have people to help make it suck less, but you're the one that has to make it stop sucking.”

“I know, dad, I know. It will suck less when I'm out of here.”

“You have to endure a month of suck then,” Tropical Storm smirked, without any hint of sympathy for his daughter’s plight. “Maybe if you keep the big Griffon lady happy she will let you have a cookie.”

Cyclone shot her dad a wry smile along with a roll of her eyes, “Gee thanks dad, I’m sure True Heart would love your bedside manner,” she couldn’t keep up the act any longer and she giggled, “True Heart's only happy if I sweat and curse at her during the therapy.”

Chapter 2 - Shattered

Once the visit with her dad, mom and girlfriend had come to an end, nurse True Heart came bustling into Cyclone’s room with her dinner on a tray. Much to the huge woman’s amusement, the jet black teenager wolfed it down like she hadn’t eaten in days. “Oh my,” she grinned sarcastically, “It seems you must be liking the dinner the hospital staff made for you.”

“Oh yes,” Cyclone granted the nurse a roll of her eyes as she moved the tray table out of the way, “I love it, nurse. I just wish there was more of it.”

“You know the drill,” True Heart said with an enthusiastic glint in her yellow eyes, “It’s time to work those calories off!”

Cyclone decided she didn’t much like the glint in the nurse’s eyes. Coach Iron Will had the same look about him when it had snowed and he was about to make the gym team do a cross county run in knee deep snow. “I swear you love this way too much…”

“I did specialize in sports medicine,” then, before Cyclone could protest, True Heart deftly removed the bedsheets covering the teenager's legs so she could start exercising them for the thirty minute period.

As she watched the nurse expertly pump her legs back and forth like she was riding a bike, Cyclone asked, “Seriously what is the point of this, nurse? I'm not gonna use them again, am I?”

A nurse of ten years, both in Griffonstone and now in Equestria, True Heart had heard all that before, many times over, from countless patients. “Well,” she said as she cycled Cyclone’s legs, “We could always cut them off if you’d prefer.”

Cyclone snorted, “I thought you were saving that for the next time you knock me out.”

“We have to wait until there is a market for them,” True Heart replied, in a mixture of dry sarcasm and dead pan sincerity that she knew would keep the teenager guessing. A little time later, when the exercise was complete, in walked Bone Graft. “Right on time, doctor.”

“Visiting hours plus thirty five,” the elderly doctor prided himself on his punctuality and granted his patient a small smile, “How are you this evening, Cyclone?”

“Alive and kicking,” snarked Cyclone on her back, her legs pointedly immobile. “Well, at least I am when the nurse helps.”

Bone Graft shared a nod of understanding with the nurse. “Time to roll over to your stomach. Just relax,” he then supported Cyclone’s upper body at her shoulders and just under her breasts while True Heart moved her legs. Between them, they had the girl over on her front.

“Well, that was fun,” deadpanned Cyclone when they left her alone when they were satisfied she was on her belly, which was how she would spend the night, “What's on the exciting list for tomorrow, roll me back over?”

“For your breakfast, I’ll roll you back over,” intoned True Heart in her usual no nonsense style.

Now he had unfettered access to Cyclone’s back, Bone Graft carefully examined the surgery area that he himself had operated on not that long ago. He took an acupuncture pin from the pocket of his long white coat. “Tell me when you feel something.” * runs a pin up Cy's spine *

Starting at her tailbone, the doctor ran the pin up Cyclone’s damaged spine. She didn't react at all until the pin was well past the area that had been operated on, which unbeknown to her was what was called the T bones. “Aaaah!” she yelped in surprise than pain, “There, I felt that!”

Somewhat annoyed, Bone Graft poked the pin at the L1 area, where it should have been felt, but got no reaction at all. “Most likely still inflammation.” There was, however, good news. “Swelling is almost gone and there’s no sign of infection.”

“So,” Cyclone huffed, thoroughly bored by all the prodding and poking and rolling, “When do you start putting in all the wires and gadgets? Y'know, like the Six Million Bit Man, or the Bionic Woman? We can rebuild her, we have the technology, and all that?”

For once, perhaps for the first time in his life, Bone Graft laughed. It was a dry, raspy kind of laugh. “We can rebuild you; we have some technology. If you were covert ops for the government, then maybe. Track star for the high school, you are, unfortunately low on the list.”

Cyclone actually found herself contemplating that. Super-Secret Government Cyborg Agent… “I suppose you have a point, doc. Shame though, I was looking forward to doing the hundred meters in two seconds with a pair of bionic legs.”

True Heart knew of her patient’s love of comics and sci fi, so she decided a little joke wasn’t out of the question. “I think you'd do better on the cyborg program. You can be a reserve on the Justice League.”

“Nurse,” Bone Graft playfully admonished her with a knowing wink, “You know that is still classified!”

Because she wasn’t expecting either the nurse or the doctor to have anything resembling a sense of humour, Cyclone burst out laughing, “As long as it's not like Robocop!” she sniggered, “Blue hates that movie.”

True Heart snorted derisively, “I have to agree with her. The physical therapy was terrible in that film.”

“The surgery was pretty silly too,” put in Bone Graft, “But I found it entertaining nonetheless.”

“I know right?” giggled Cyclone, who was for once was enjoying the doctor’s visit, “It was big and dumb and brilliant.” Then, she let out a sigh, “How's it looking, doc, apart from 'I've had major back surgery' back there?”

“Once the inflammation is down and your nerves near the break are reacting we can move on to building up your upper body,” Bone Graft reported once he had given the girl’s lower back another look over.

“I want to do wheelchair racing when I get out of here, doc.” Stated Cyclone determinedly, not wanting to give up doing what she loved doing just because she couldn’t run anymore.

“Now that is something I will personally make sure of,” True Heart cracked her knuckles as she spoke, delighting in the way Cyclone flinched even though she couldn’t see her.

Behind her, Bone Graft chuckled, “I'm sure you will, True Heart.” He checked his watch, knowing he had to move on his rounds. “Sleep well, Cyclone.”

“I don't know whether to be inspired or scared,” Cyclone giggled, ultimately coming down somewhere between the two, “Good night doc, you too nurse.”

“You know the drill, Cyclone,” True Heart patted the girl on the shoulder as she and the doctor made their way out of the hospital room, “You can move your head and your arms, but do not try to roll over. I'm rusty on my bondage, and you don't want to be the one I practice on. Good night, Cyclone.”

Once she was alone in her room, Cyclone was left with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. “Yeah,” she muttered when her thoughts ran away with themselves, “Now I'm even more convinced she ran Gulag Grover over in Griffonstone,” she grunted and settled on the bed, “At least this is a comfy bed…”

~ ~ ~

A few days later, and doctor Bone Graft was again inspecting Cyclone’s back in her room. He had her on her front, and he was brandishing his acupuncture pin down at the small of her back. “Okay, tell me when you can feel the pin,” he moved it slowly up the girl’s spine.

Tight at the juncture of her L1 / L2 vertebra, Cyclone flinched, “Ooow!” she yelped, at last feeling the prick of the pin, “There! Right there!”

“The good news is the inflammation is gone.” Bone Graft was as satisfied as he sounded, “I'll turn her over to your capable hands tomorrow, nurse True Heart.”

True Heart, who had been overseeing the inspection as per the rules, grinned down at her patient like a lion eyeing up her prey. “I look forward to it, doctor. Get a good night's rest Cyclone. I’m not sure when your next one will be.”

Cyclone didn’t really care for the nurse’s tone. It sounded to her like she was going to have a lot of hard days training ahead of her. “Y'know, nurse, I used to think Coach Iron Will was a hard ass on me, but you make him look like a teddy bear and he made us do a cross country race in the snow last winter.”

“I like the sound of your coach,” True Heart snickered on her way out of the hospital room, “Don’t worry, Cyclone, they frown on me bringing snow into the hospital.” Giving the teenager a wink, she closed the door behind her.

Alone in her bed, Cyclone closed her eyes but, before sleep could claim her, she shuddered, “I am never going to Griffonstone, not ever.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning, bright and very early – so early the sun had only just risen up into the sky – True Heart entered Cyclone’s room with a broad happy grin on her face. “Good morning Cyclone!” she said loudly, in case her patient was asleep, “Roll over please. you've being moved to a new room!”

True Heart watched and waited patiently while the teenager rolled over onto her back. As she had suspected, she was awake already. She could tell, what with her being an athlete. “The room in question is my rehab dungeon, err, I mean empire. First, I'm going to remove your catheter. I have these pretty pink nappies for you. Now you can learn what if feels like to be full and how to express your urine when you want to. Nappies are for training. By the way,” she approved of the effort the girl was putting in. Again, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, with her background. “That was a great job rolling over. It is hard to get the legs to cooperate sometimes.”

“You have a rehab dungeon,” Cyclone grunted when she was at last on her back. “I knew it, you were a gulag warden!” she snickered at her own joke, then she winced a little with the removal of the catheter from her urethra. “And don’t worry, I've worn nappies before, with Blue. Thank you, too. This is me now, I'm gonna make the best of it.”

“It is what you need to do,” True Heart stated simply, in her matter of fact tone, before putting the nappy she had bought with her on Cyclone and disconnecting all the monitoring equipment from her. That done, she wheeled the bed out of the room to one of the elevators. They rode that up two floors and down a corridor into yet another room. “This is your new home for the next month.”

The first thing Cyclone saw in the new room was the same blue and white decoration of the room she had been in before. She supposed all the rooms were painted the same. The second thing she saw was a set of rings and a trapeze bar over an empty bed. “Now to move you to the other bed.”

“Whoa!” Cyclone exclaimed when the griffon effortlessly hoisted her up and out of the bed. She knew she didn't weigh much, and she knew that the big woman was immensely strong, but even so, she was impressed at how easily she was hoisted up like she was nothing.

Once Cyclone had been deposited in the new bed, True Heart lowered the trapeze bar with the press of a button in the wall. “This one works the trapeze and the one next to it the rings. Do ten chin ups for me and then it will be breakfast time.”

“Yes ma'am!” excitedly, Cyclone reached up for the bar that was an arm’s length away and, grabbing it, she did five easily. This was at last like training! It felt good, finally, to be working out, even as she slowed on the sixth and seventh chin up. Numbers eight and nine took more effort, but she tried regardless. “C'mon you damned bloody…” she cursed and forced herself to carry on, “HHHNNG ten! Yes! I did ten!”

Impressed, True Heart gave her patient a well-earned round of applause. “Well done. I’ll be back with your breakfast.” With that, she left the room, a proud smile all over her face.

~ ~ ~

Later that same day, in the late afternoon, Bluefeather crept into the hospital room carrying a bouquet of yellow roses and a box dairy milk chocolates. It amused her that her girlfriend was so engrossed in her Power Pony comic that she wasn’t aware she had walked into the room. Bluefeather made it all the way to the side of the bed. She was even able to cough loudly before Cyclone realised she was there. “Good morning!” the grey skinned teen said unnecessarily loudly in her ear.

“Waaaah!” Cyclone jumped, almost dropped the comic she had been reading and for a moment thought she was under attack, until she saw Bluefeather’s shit eating grin inches from her face. She was about to respond with a ‘good morning’, when she remembered it was four in the afternoon. She set aside her comic on the nightstand. “Good afternoon to you, Blue.” She appreciated the way her girlfriend wore the yellow sundress and sandals, and she appreciated the way the dress clung to her body.

“Hey, let me show you something!” excitedly, wanting to show off, Cyclone pressed the switch by her bed that lowered the trapeze bar and then she took hold of it in both her hands. “Raise it up!”

Somewhat mystified, Bluefeather nonetheless stowed the chocolates under her arm that held the roses and she used her free hand to raise the bar. That had the effect of dragging Cyclone’s lower body towards the head of the bed until her butt was under the bar.

“There, that’s good,” when she was satisfied she was in position, Bluefeather released the switch. “Now watch this!” declared Cyclone, who started doing her chin ups. The first seven repetitions went well, but she struggled to make it eight.

Not one to give up when she was showing off how great she was, Cyclone struggled on to get in chin up number nine, only to lose her grip on the bar with both hands when she tried to do the last one. “Aaaaah!” she squealed, sure she was about to hit the wall behind her when, as she fell, Bluefeather moved in quickly to use her free arm to wrap around the back of Cyclone’s shoulders and pull her close. “Damn it!” she exclaimed, “I want to show you ten!”

Bluefeather didn’t bother to hide the amusement in her voice when she spoke, “Why didn’t you stop?”

“Because I didn’t want to look like a fool in front of you,” Cyclone admitted, though from where she was now with her face pressed into her girlfriend’s chest, she supposed it wasn’t a bad outcome.

“Oh, yes,” Bluefeather patted Cyclone’s turquoise hair like a mother would to a child, “It’s far less foolish to hit your head on the wall.” As she said that, she could feel Cyclone chuckling against her body.

“I wasn’t thinking that far out.”

“I love you, my beautiful fool.”

“Yeah, I love you too, Blue. You can let me down now.” Carefully, Bluefeather lowered her girlfriend down and back, until her head rested against the wall. “Thanks Blue!” she then flashed her visitor a huge smile. “So, were you impressed?”

The ‘mother’ in Bluefeather came out again. “Yes Cy, I'm impressed. You never give up. Here,” she handed Cyclone the chocolates, “I need to put these in a vase.”

As Cyclone took the chocolates, her face split into a wide smile, for they were wrapped in a wide piece of paper that bore the signatures and the best wishes of the whole Canterlot High track team. “This is awesome!” she hugged the chocolates like she was hugging the team, then she set them aside next to her on the bed, “I dunno about never giving up...”

In no time at all, Bluefeather returned with one of the vases from the bathroom and after placing the roses in, she set it pride of place on the other nightstand. “I do,” she stated confidently, “You might get discouraged, but you don't quit. Sometimes even when you need to know to stop. You don’t.”

Cyclone laughed at that, all the time she watched Bluefeather busying herself arranging the roses in the vase, getting them just to her liking, “You don't have to deal with the grumpy grey Griff and her twisted torture chamber!”

“I’ll have you know,” Bluefeather turned dramatically to face the bed, “That grumpy grey Griff has allowed you to have two chocolates each time I visit.”

“I've always loved True Heart,” Cyclone changed her tune quick as a flash, “She's amazing!”

Now it was Bluefeather who laughed, her arms crossed under her modest breasts, “Such a change of heart. D’you want a coffee?”

It was amazing, how Cyclone didn’t want a coffee until she had been asked if she did. Then, it was all she wanted. “Yes please, babes, it’s dry in this desert.”

A roll of her eyes silenced her girlfriend’s snark. “Don't you dare open the box while I'm gone,” she bent down and gave the athlete a kiss, “Do feel free to sniff the roses.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone gave Bluefeather a salute, “Leaving the box alone, ma'am.”

Roughly five minutes later, while Bluefeather was away hunting for coffee doing battle with the vending machines, Monsoon walked in looking stressed and harassed. “Finding parking is terrible,” she explained away her ‘look’, “How are you dear?”

“I’m fine…” Cyclone looked away and she rubbed the back of her head, then she decided not to lie to her mother. “Okay, I had the new nightmare again, mom.” Cyclone shuddered, because when she closed her eyes, even to blink, she remembered the feeling of waking up and being unable to move her arms. Then she woke up again to find her legs had been amputated, then waking up and arms were gone.

Full of concern, Monsoon sat next to the bed. So far, she knew she had been the only one her daughter had told about her nightmare. From what Cyclone had described to her, it was horrific. “Have you asked to see the hospital counsellor?”

“No, I um...” Cyclone blushed, “I didn't think that far ahead.”

Even though her daughter was black as night, Monsoon could tell she was blushing. “You're a big girl now, Cy, but you don't have to suffer alone. If you don't like the counsellor, I can find you another. If you don't want to, that’s your choice. Maybe sharing with me and Blue will be enough. If you think True Heart is one that will keep your confidence, you're dead wrong.”

Sliding down the wall until she was laid on her back, Cyclone let out a despondent groan, “She's told you both already, hasn't she?”

“She hasn't told me of any nightmares,” replied Monsoon as she helped her daughter to sit up and lean against the wall once more, “She has told me about when you said they were useless and you thought you'd be better off without them.”

“I had one freak out, that's all,” Cyclone said defensively, “And I didn't mean it, I swear!”

“Since they're both still here,” Monsoon patted Cyclone’s legs and smoothed down the hospital gown down over them, “I guess not, but why are you having the nightmares then?”

Before Cyclone could answer her mother, Bluefeather walked in with three coffees on a tray. “Hey!” she exclaimed playfully, “No making the moves on my girlfriend!”

Cyclone was so grateful for Bluefeather’s timely entrance. It meant she could dodge her mother and avoid talking about her nightmare. “Ewww babes, that's gross!” she giggled, “She's way too old for me.”

“It wasn't ever going to work,” Monsoon sniffed in fake disappointment, “This one is missing vital equipment.” In all the laughter and the giggles, it was a miracle that Bluefeather managed to deliver the coffees without any spills.

“Alas, mother,” Cyclone swooned with a palm to her forehead, “Our love shall remain forever platonically parental.”

“Shall we have some chocolate?” asked Bluefeather as she set the tray down on the wheeled table and moved it over the bed.

Expectantly, Monsoon and Bluefeather both looked at Cyclone like they were waiting for her to pass around the Hearths Warming treats. “Do try to not tear the paper, dear. It can go in a scrap book Blue will keep for you.”

“Got it mom,” reaching for the chocolates, Cyclone very carefully removed the paper, taking particular care not to tear any that bore the signatures that were so precious to her. Inside, she found a get well card. In the card was written, 'Nothing, not even this, is going to slow you down’ and it was signed by Rainbow Dash. “Thanks Cap...” Cyclone sniffed back a couple of tears and smiled, “C'mon guys, dig in.”

As soon as the box was offered to them, Monsoon and Bluefeather both took a couple of the chocolates. “You're not alone, Cy.”

“I know, mom,” Cyclone replied, though her voice was thick with chocolatey goodness filling up her mouth.

“So…why is your head against the wall?” asked Monsoon, who had taken her coffee to wash down the treat, “Doesn't this bed raise up?”

While Bluefeather giggled, Cyclone nodded her head. “It does,” she admitted, “But I've been doing exercises with True Heart, and I wanted to show off for Blue when she came in.”

“Three of those pull up things would have been showing off to me,” said Bluefeather, “This one was determined to do ten.”

Monsoon approved. “I see they wasted no time starting the physical therapy.”

“Hmph…” Cyclone grunted, albeit playfully, “I wish I'd known that before I did nine,” she then giggled, “I still would have done nine. And it's all good, mom, I want to race again. Better to start now than later.”

Broadly, Monsoon smiled as Bluefeather swooped in and gave Cyclone a crushing hug that drove the air from her lungs. “You do make my heart race, sexy.”

“Too cheesy, babes!” laughed Cyclone while her mother simply rolled her eyes at them both, “But don't stop, I love it when you’re cheesy.”

~ ~ ~

A little time later, once the visiting hours were up and after Cyclone had wolfed down her dinner, True Heart entered the room wearing a broad victorious smile on her face, “Well done, you almost ate all of your dinner. Seems the food is growing on you.”

Cyclone blushed like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, “Don't tell anyone, but that was actually nice.”

“Never fear, my dear,” the nurse beamed, proud of her little rhyme, “The chef will never know from me. Pool time. Oh, can you swim?”

“I can,” Cyclone then shrugged as a thought occurred to her, “I mean I could swim, I dunno about now, though.” She had no idea if she could swim or not with her lower body paralysed like it was.

“That’s good enough for me, I've gone four days without a drowning!” True Heart declared before she effortlessly picked Cyclone up and out of the bed and transferred her to a recliner wheelchair.

About to protest at being lifted about like she was a sack of produce; Cyclone instantly changed her mind when she was placed into the wheelchair. “Oooh this is cool,” she passed her judgement, “It’s like a sports car wheelchair! I like this.”

“Yes,” True Heart smirked, “I'll make sure you pass any other wheelchairs. Once you build up your upper abs, you will get the normal chair to move around in. Later, you can get a real racing chair.”

“Now that, will be cool!” Cyclone grinned, imagining herself in a snazzy red racing chair with go faster stripes, “I can't wait to blow them off the track again.”

In no time at all, they arrived at the therapy pool, but they weren’t alone. There were two others already swimming in the crystal clear water. “Okay,” True Heart began, “While the body is naturally buoyant, I have these for your ankles.” Seemingly from nowhere, she produced two child arm floaties, each decorated with Saddle Rager. “They are the only Power Pony ones they had.”

“Awww!” Cyclone, who had thought of the nurse as just an unreachable mountain of muscle who delighted in tormenting her, found herself smiling a goofy little smile. She had obviously gone out of her way to get floaties she knew she would like best. It touched her, right in the feels. “Thanks nurse, that's really awesome.”

Smiling affectionately, for she had taken a liking to her young patient, True Heart placed the floaties on her ankles. “If anyone asks, they came from your girlfriend. I do have a tough as nails persona to maintain.”

Cyclone gave the nurse a conspiratorial wink. “Your secret's safe with me, nurse.”

Still smiling, True Heart proceeded to remove her uniform, revealing that she was wearing a one piece swimsuit underneath. It showed off her stunningly muscular physique, leaving nothing to the imagination. Then, she wheeled Cyclone behind a partition. “I like to do that out there,” she grinned with a flex of her arms, “Helps invigorate some hearts. Now to get your swimsuit on.”

“Well you kick started mine, nurse,” Cyclone didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was checking out the much older woman, “I mean you're fit, in a hot-Griffon-biceps-bigger-than-my-head kind of way.”

“Lifting people is a great work out,” True Heart removed her patient’s hospital gown and she put her into a hospital black one piece that fit her perfectly. “Ready to work on swimming? Good low resistance work out.”

“I'm sure I don't give you much of a work out,” snickered Cyclone as she watched the nurse pull up the swimsuit over her nonnon-existent breasts, “I'm ten stone. There are goal posts wider than me,” she giggled, “Let's get to it!”

The one hour long exercise in the pool consisted mostly of Cyclone doing laps, with the nurse there on hand in case of any distress. After the hour, the black skinned teenager was at the side of the pool panting, tired but very happy with herself.

“Next stop is the rack!” declared True Heart with barely disguised glee as she lifted Cyclone up and out of the pool and she carried her over to a lounge chair. There, she gave her a towel to dry off her upper body while she worked on the legs.

“Y-You are way too enthusiastic about the rack, you know that, right?”

Of course True Heart knew it. That was why she did it! And it was fun. “I wish to keep your optimism at a high level,” she grinned and, once they were both dry and the floaties had been removed from her legs, she carried Cyclone over to the isometric leg exerciser she affectionately called ‘the rack’.

“Hey, True Heart?” Cyclone purposefully didn’t use the term 'nurse' for once, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Once she had the teenager secured in the machine and she was happy the machine was doing its thing, the nurse sat on a chair next to Cyclone. She wasn’t usually good with things like this, but she recognised when someone needed to unload. “Please do.”

“Well...” Cyclone paused, realising she was really bad at things like talking about her feelings and things that bothered her. This wasn’t what she was good at. “You see, the thing is, I've been having nightmares. A nightmare. A new one.”

“You have had the same one more than twice?”

“Yeah. Same one more than twice,” as much as she felt like a lame idiot, Cyclone forced herself to keep speaking. It felt like all she was doing was making noise come out of her mouth. “You uh, you remember what I said about waking up and finding I've been operated on again?”

“I remember,” True Heart opted for what she hoped was a calm reassuring tone, encouraging the girl to continue, “But I only told your mother about that.”

“That's the nightmare,” Cyclone found that when she started, it was like a flood gate opening up, and it was easier to carry on, “I wake up and Bone Graft's like, "we had to operate, there was an infection," and I can't move my arms or anything.”

“Would you like to talk to our resident shrink about this?” asked True Heart, “I will heal your body, but I am not so good with the mind.”

Cyclone carried on like the nurse hadn’t said anything, “That's just the start. Next time I wake up, my legs are just stumps above the knee,” she shivered and scrunched up her eyes as if that would guard against the unwelcome memory. “Then the next time, my arms are gone all the way to my shoulders. I dunno if there's any more, that's when I wake up screaming and screaming.”

True Heart didn’t wait to get Cyclone’s approval. She made up her mind. “I will schedule you some time with Counsellor Good Hope.”

“Thanks, True Heart, I really appreciate it…” Cyclone cried out a few sobs before she could stop herself. Quickly, but not quickly enough to stop the nurse seeing, she rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I-I’m sorry...”

Far from laughing or judging her, True Heart placed her large dustbin lid like hand on her shoulder, “This is a place of healing, but not everyone can be healed. Good Hope’s main job is the terminally ill and suicide prevention. You will leave this place. I'm sure your girlfriend will push you for that.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone smiled, how could she not be reassured when that hand was on her shoulder? “Blue won't let me quit. She's my inspiration, she's my sun, she's my everything, True.”

“Hold onto that.” The nurse then checked the clock and her watch. “Your thirty minutes are up. I do hope my torture device has lived up to its name.”

“I can't really say,” Cyclone giggled, “I've spent the whole time crying at you like an overgrown baby. You'll just have to try harder with your devices.” As soon as she said that, she regretted it, because the glint was back in the nurse’s eyes.

“Cannot win them all,” shrugged True Heart, “But there is always next time. Now for the shower, or would you prefer a bath?”

“A bath, please True Heart. I promise not to splash you.”

“Not that I care. I have the swimsuit on.” It was a short journey from the exercise machine to the bath and, while she was being supervised, the nurse allowed Cyclone to clean herself. True to her word, Cyclone didn’t splash her. Well, not much, anyway, and only a little on purpose.

Once Cyclone was clean and dry, True Heart dressed her in a fresh hospital gown and ferried her in the wheelchair back to her bed. “Supper will be in an hour, feel free to use the bar or rings. I will put in a request for the counsellor.”

“Thanks True Heart, you're the best.”

~ ~ ~

The next day, doctor Good Hope showed up right after visiting hours in the late afternoon. In a stark contrast to Bone Graft, this doctor was young, barely in his thirties, with a well-trimmed goatee beard and rimless glasses. “Greetings to you, Cyclone, I'm doctor Good Hope. Resident psychiatrist and counsellor. Nurse True Heart sent me an urgent request for a meeting.”

Cyclone couldn’t help but chuckle. It sounded like the nurse to make the request ‘urgent’. “Yeah, hey doc, uh...True Heart said you're the guy I need to talk to about what’s bothering me.”

Looking down at his clipboard, Good Hope was aware on a very basic level what was ‘bothering’ the young girl. “Reoccurring nightmares, yes? Do these dreams give you suicidal thoughts?”

The doctor’s directness took Cyclone by surprise, making her think about that while he took a seat by her bed. “Well, um...” she hadn’t been suicidal, just extremely freaked out, “Uh…not really, they just scare the living crap outta me.”

Quickly, the doctor scribbled some notes on his clipboard. “The nightmare stems from your injury?”

“Yeah, you see it's like this,” Cyclone paused and took a deep breath, then for what felt like the hundredth time, she detailed the nightmare. “I woke up once, I was paralysed. I woke up again, I was incontinent. So, my nightmare is basically I wake up totally paralysed, then over a few wake ups, my limbs are all amputated.”

Thoughtfully, Good Hope nodded his head but he didn’t speak until the teenager was finished. “A traumatic injury can cause such thoughts which lead to dreams of a lucid nature.” He had a suspicion that she had told him the concise version. “We have a weekly group meeting for individuals such as you, who have suffered traumatic injuries. An opportunity to share their perspective. Would you like to join such a group?”

“Yeah,” Cyclone agreed readily, “I’ll do anything, if you think it'll help, anything, I just want these dreams to end!”

Good Hope smiled, pleased that his sell had gone relatively quickly and painless. “Okay, we meet at seven p.m. after dinner on Tuesdays.”

“What about between now and then?” demanded Cyclone, suddenly her temper flared at the possibility that she wasn’t going to get cured in an instant like she wanted, “I don't want to go to sleep! You gotta help me with that, please, I'm too scared to go to sleep!”

“How do you feel about medication?” asked Good Hope, who did have a degree of sympathy for the teenager, “I can give you pills that will put you into a deep sleep, no dreams. The problem is they are extremely addictive.”

“Okay, lay it on me, anything, please!”

The readiness with which she agreed to the medication did give the doctor pause for concern. Still, he nodded in acquiescence to her request. “I'll have the duty nurse bring you some for tonight. I would like you to try tomorrow night without them. If the dream returns, we'll prescribe it to you, but I strongly repeat, it’s not the best solution for your problem.”

“Doc,” Cyclone groaned, “I really don't care, I just wanna sleep and not wake up screaming in the morning.”

“It will take time, Cyclone,” Good Hope said softly and delicately, “Part of that is coming to grips with what happened to you, and that the event is over. Moving on is what the group session is for.”

~ ~ ~

After a dreamless sleep, Bluefeather arrived at the hospital the next morning just as Cyclone was getting her breakfast. “Monsoon dropped me off today,” she said as she breezed in through the doors to her girlfriend’s room, “She’ll be here before lunch with Tropical Storm. Has breakfast gotten any better?”

“It has!” Cyclone shuddered, for the moment sparing the bacon and scrambled eggs their fate in her mouth, “Either I'm getting accustomed to it or it's actually nice!” she flashed Bluefeather a huge welcoming smile. “It's good to see you babes.”

Without hesitation, or worry for her cream coloured sundress, Bluefeather swooped in for a bacon flavoured kiss when Cyclone popped the bacon in her mouth. She had to be sure, after all. “Not bad at all.”

“Mmmm, kiss me again, you sexy girl!” Cyclone beamed, all bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning following her medicated dreamless sleep.

How are you doing with the Gulag Commandant?”

“True Heart is a gem,” giggled Cyclone, “I just had to find it under her scary facade.” They both shared a giggle at that, but then, half way though her breakfast, Cyclone suddenly slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes went wide. “Wastebasket!”

Luckily, Bluefeather was quick to act, and she grabbed the wastebasket off the floor and she bought it up just in time for her girlfriend to take hold of it and heave the contents of her stomach into it. In a panic, she asked, “Are you okay? Do I need to get help?”

“N-No... I-I'm fi.... eeeEEEEEUUUURGH!” Cyclone though was too busy chucking up again, noisily splattering her vomit into the bin to fully complete her sentence. “I’m fine...I'm fine…”

“But, you're throwing up!” pointed out Bluefeather, “That is not fine, Cy.”

“I-It's...fine...” groaned Cyclone who, after a lumpy burp, filled up the basket some more, groaned out an explanation, “D-Doc Good Hope...I was warned, the meds would cause nausea,” her watering teary eyes again went wide, afraid that she had said it now.

“They gave you new meds?” asked Bluefeather, who didn’t have the first clue who Good Hope was, “What for, are you in any pain?”

“Not for pain, no. I um...I've been seeing...” Cyclone sighed, unwilling to be parted from the wastebasket in case she needed it again. “Doc Good Hope is the hospital shrink, Blue.”

All the panic drained out of Bluefeather and, in a very soft, almost inaudible voice, she said, “Oh.”

Cyclone, realising the cat was well and truly out of the bag, and was fighting with the genie who had been released from the bottle, knew she had to explain properly. “I um, I've been having nightmares. Bad ones.”

Bluefeather sank to the bed, “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, babes!” Cyclone added quickly, before she went on to tell her girlfriend all about the nightmare she had been experiencing for the past few days, and about Good Hope.

Listening intently, Bluefeather at least felt a bit better, but she still felt utterly wretched deep down that Cyclone was in the hospital in the first place. “I guess,” she managed a thin smile, “If the doc gave it, it’s okay. So, no nightmare last night?”

“Nope!” feeling stable for the moment, Cyclone passed the wastebasket to Bluefeather, who handled it with intense distaste as she set it on the floor, “No nightmare! I felt like a million bits when I woke up this morning.”

Pointedly ignoring the contents of the basket, Bluefeather filled an empty glass with cold water and she took Cyclone's toothbrush and toothpaste form the night stand. “No more kisses till you clean up that mouth.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone duly took the toothbrush and paste, “I’m cleaning up, ma'am,” she giggled and proceeded to thoroughly brush her teeth. There was no way she was going through the day without any more kisses.

While Cyclone was busy doing that, Bluefeather couldn’t help but notice the half-eaten plate of bacon, eggs and toast. “Are you done with your breakfast?”

“Hmhmmm!” with a mouth full of toothpaste, Cyclone gave her a thumbs up 'yes'. She’d only just finished chucking up. She wasn’t keen to start doing that again.

Not one to let good food go to waste, Bluefeather took the plate and started to eat. “More bacon for me!”

Once she was done with cleaning her teeth, she set the glass and toothbrush on her night stand and rested with her back against the wall, feeling decidedly better after all that. “So, how's life on the outside?”

Of course, Bluefeather knew her girlfriend was changing the subject, but she decided to not call her on it. “Not bad. Summer is hot,” she giggled, gesturing to her cream dress as a justification to her wearing it, “So, are you back in control for a chocolate?”

“Yes please babes!” Cyclone smiled, “I really can't wait to get outside, these walls are driving me crazy.”

When Bluefeather went to get a chocolate for each of them, she was pleased to see that the ‘right’ amount of the treats were there in the tray and that Cyclone hadn’t cheated on her. “Pass your rehab and you're out. Three more weeks, right?”

“Three more weeks.” Cyclone said it like it was a life sentence, but the chocolate helped, a lot. “Just in time for senior year at CHS, yay!”

“When will you get stated in the wheelchair?” asked Bluefeather in between shovelling mouthfuls of eggs and bacon into her mouth.

“In five to eight days, depending on how well I do with True Heart's training.”

“I'm going to tell her to push you harder then.”

When she heard that, Cyclone gave Bluefeather a wry deadpan eyebrow. “You are aware this is True Heart, right?” she asked with a completely nonplussed roll of her eyes, “She doesn't need any encouragement to go hard on me.”

Giggling, Bluefeather had to concede that. “Okay, I'll take it easy on you.”

“Oh for sweet mercy!” Cyclone giggled brightly, the wastebasket forgotten, “Can I have snuggles and kisses now please? There's room in the bed.”

After scouring the plate clean of any food, Bluefeather climbed up into the bed by Cyclone’s side. “I can do that.” As it turned out, she was right. There was plenty of room in the bed.

“I have so missed this!” exclaimed Cyclone, who immediately wrapped her arms around Bluefeather and she hugged her close.

The two young lovers got one hour of general snuggle time - Bluefeather was not about to risk doing anything more in a hospital bed, as much as she wanted to – before Tropical Storm and Monsoon walked in. “I'd say get a room,” he snickered, “But you two already have one.”

“How are you doing dear?” Monsoon asked with a broad smile. She could see perfectly obviously how well she was doing. “You’re staying warm, I see.”

Cyclone turned an unapologetic look to her grinning parents and made no attempt whatsoever to hide what she was doing with her girlfriend. “It's important to share body warmth in a survival situation, mom.”

“Right.” Tropical Storm sounded as unconvinced as he looked, “We've gone and gotten the recommended items for you at home. We just need to bust you out of this place.”

Playfully swatting her overgrown child of a husband, Monsoon laughed, “Nurse True Heart says you're doing well with the rehab therapy.”

“Now I've got going,” nodded Cyclone eagerly, “I think True Heart respects the fact that I want to go hard on her various torture devices.”

“We’ve got the isometric machine,” said Tropical Storm as he took one of the seats by the bed, “And a racing wheelchair for you.”

“We’ve also outfitted the home for you to have easier access when you do get out of here,” added Monsoon.

“That’s so awesome! Thanks you guys!” Cyclone opened her arms for a big hug, though Bluefeather was already in her embrace, so she opened her arms, which served to widen the radius of the hugging circle. As they all hugged, Cyclone felt a warm fuzzy feeling in her belly, at once she had proper optimism for her future.

Chapter 3 - Rebuilt

The next morning, just as the sun crested the horizon and shone its bright light into the hospital room, Cyclone woke up. In a split second she shot bolt upright in her bed screaming for her life, sat in a puddle of sweat.

A couple of seconds later and the duty nurse came in to check on the screaming teenager, because it sounded like she was being murdered in her bed. After making sure she was properly awake, she changed the soiled bedsheets and left to report the incident to Good Hope.

Left alone in her room, Cyclone hugged her pillow to her like it was a treasured teddy bear for a while and, just because nobody could see her, she cried like a baby. It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, she saw the nightmare version of herself, a squirming limbless worm chained to a bed.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before she was distracted from her crying by the arrival of breakfast. It wasn’t just food that came through her door, breakfast came with her mother and her girlfriend. Despite the heat outside, Monsoon refused to wear less than her sharp skirt and blouse, while Bluefeather had opted for a loose fitting cream sundress. “Good morning!” she called out cheerfully before setting the tray on the bedside table.

“Good morning, dear!” Monsoon smiled warmly as she smoothed her skirt under herself and sat in her usual seat at the right of her daughter’s bed.

“H-Hey!” Cyclone, who had been caught by surprise by the sudden entrance, quickly wiped her eyes on her already wet pillow. “Hi guys!” she put on a much too wide smile, which she just knew wouldn’t fool anyone.

Naturally, Monsoon saw straight through her daughter’s fakery. “Difficult night?”

“I'm awake now,” Cyclone thought she had rather skilfully dodged that question, though the look that her mother and girlfriend shared said she hadn’t been good enough. Like rolling a one on a deception test. “That's what matters!”

Shaking her head, Monsoon leant over the bed and she wrapped Cyclone up in a hug, leaving space for Bluefeather to do the same on the other side of the bed, which of course she did. “Are the meds not working?” the teenager asked, snaking her arms around her girlfriend and squeezing tight.

Blushing, Cyclone looked away from the two of them. “Good Hope didn't give me any last night.”

Even though her daughter had jet black skin, Monsoon could tell she was blushing just from the look on her face. It was an ashamed look that she didn’t like, and one that as a mother she wanted to see gone. “Do I need to talk to him?” she asked gently.

“Can you, please?” Cyclone asked desperately, not even trying to keep the pleading tone from her voice. “Mom I don't want that dream anymore!”

“Then I will,” Monsoon carefully disentangled herself from her daughter’s arms, a difficult task given how tight Cyclone was hanging onto her, “But I think I know something that will cheer you up right now.”

What on earth could that be? Cyclone didn’t know. Her mother wasn’t one for arranging surprises. Her dad was the spontaneous one. “But I've already got my two best ladies and this month's Power Ponies comic!”

Giggling, Bluefeather blew her girlfriend a kiss and then she stepped out of the hospital room, waving the ‘surprise’ to enter and take her place. That someone was Rainbow Dash. Wearing a broad smirk on her face like she wore her skin-tight leggings and tee shirt, she sauntered into the room like she owned it. “Nice to be in a hospital that I didn't put myself in for a change,” she drawled.

Monsoon wished she could have framed the look of pure delight that came over Cyclone’s face. She settled for burning it into her memory instead. “Blue and I will go get coffee so the two of you can chat.” She left the room followed by Bluefeather.

“Hey Cap,” Cyclone grinned wide as Monsoon and Bluefeather both left the room in a fit of giggles, “I see Twi let you off the leash for once, huh?”

Rainbow Dash’s smirk only widened as she ran a sky blue finger along her purple collar around her neck. “Comments like that will have you running laps,” she shot her track mate a wink, “Interesting to see how far you get with just your hands.”

“I'd give it a damn good go,” Cyclone shot back determinedly, her competitive streak rearing its head, “Have you met my nurse?”

“No,” Rainbow replied with a shake of her head, “But I hope your nurse is tough as nails. Any chocolates left?” she had spied the big heart shaped container of dairy milks that were sitting on the far night stand.

“Yes cap, help yourself to one,” Cyclone gestured to the half full box and giggled at her long-time friend, “And just so you know, my nurse is a griffon. Don't get much tougher than that.”

Now, Rainbow Dash was impressed at that. “Woah, that is tough as nails,” she commented as she helped herself to two chocolates, her mind wandered to Gilda, a particularly tough girl she knew by name and reputation at CHS. “There’s lots left, someone have you on a short leash?”

“My tough as nails nurse,” explained Cyclone, “She says I'm allowed one per visit as long as I impress her on my rehab.” She then rubbed the back of her head, “We should talk about the track team, Cap.”

Her mouth full of chocolate, Rainbow Dash savoured the rare treat before she replied to that. “You'll be the first disabled girl racing for the school. I've checked. We have three wheelchair bound students now, but none were interested in sports. You can change that.”

“Damn right, Cap. And thanks,” Cyclone moved the bed to more of a sitting position, “I mean, I do still wanna race. I was kinda worried I'd be shelved and forgot about, y’know?”

“First,” Rainbow said firmly as she tossed a chocolate to Cyclone, who caught it one handed, “You have spirit, and I'm not going to step on that. Second, the city would come down like a ton of bricks if I, or anyone, thought to exclude you from the team. And last, the team would hand me my ass if I dropped you.”

“Yeah, I am awesome,” Cyclone snickered thickly around the chocolate she was munching on and she fist bumped her friend, “Comes from having to keep up with you. Mom and dad got me a racing chair for when I escape outta here.”

“I know,” Rainbow nodded, “They consulted with me. You need to get your body ready for it.”

“That's what I'm working on with True Heart. See?” Cyclone couldn’t resist flexing her biceps and showing off like she was on the cover of Muscles Monthly, “I got guns!”

Taking a long, very long moment to admire Cyclone’s arms – they were nowhere near as well defined or as large as Applejack’s were, but damn – Rainbow Dash nodded her approval, “Am I going to lose you to the gymnastic team after all this?”

Definitely, Cyclone shook her head. “Nah, Cap, I love to race too much to do gym, besides, I have no idea what gym-ness I'd do anyway.”

“Well, you do have the rings above your bed,” Rainbow’s eyes flicked up to said rings, “Or there is the circus route with that trapeze bar,” she added with a laugh.

Cyclone shared a good natured laugh with her friend, “I can do fifteen chin ups on that now. So uh,” she paused for a moment as something that was bothering her came to her mind, something she could really only talk about with her. “Dash, you were at the mall that day, right?”

Now it was Rainbow Dash’s turn to blush, as she rubbed the back of her head like Cyclone had done moments before. “Um, well, no…” it was hard to explain. Actually it was real simple. She was at the mall, but she was caught inside a magic mirror in some magic dimension. “I mean, I was at the mall, but uh…I was with my friends sort of trapped in a room.” She decided to go with that instead.

“Huh.” Cyclone could tell by the way her friend was blushing and by the way she was avoiding eye contact with her that she wasn’t telling her everything. “I was hoping you'd know what happened. Whenever I ask, all I get is 'Juniper threw a sunglasses stand at me'.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash found the wall of the hospital room incredibly interesting as she spoke, “That was all kinds of messed up. A friend of Sunset's took care of the issue, but it was a bit late. She uh…lives out of the country and had to go home.” Yeah, that sounded better than ‘it was another magic pony girl from magic pony land’, she just hoped Cyclone bought it.

“What I don't get is how Juniper managed to throw a stand!” exclaimed Cyclone, angry that yet again she was being given the run around, “C'mon, Dash, level with me, huh? We’ve been mates a long time.”

‘I am so gonna regret this…’ Rainbow thought to herself as she carefully inspected the two tone paint on the wall again, but she knew that her friend was right. Besides, she knew she’d hate being messed around. “Um, okay, so a while ago there was a lot of strange things that happened round the high school. You've heard about that?”

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss Sunset Shimmer turning into a huge flying demon at that Fall Formal, oh and the Sirens that mind controlled everybody…”

“Right,” Rainbow Dash finally looked Cyclone in the eyes, “That, so Juniper Montage turning into a thirty foot tall raging she demon in the mall shouldn’t be much of a stretch for you.”

“I also remember the magic attack vines at the Friendship Games and the demon fight afterwards,” Cyclone was quick to add that in as well, “So, it’s magic then. The thing everyone knows about but the thing nobody acknowledges at CHS.”

“About that,” Rainbow’s tone took on a warning note. Not threatening, just warning. “You just try going to tell some doctor here that you experienced 'magic' from another dimension and you'll find yourself on the thirteenth floor faster than I can run.”

Cyclone, now sat fully up in her bed, gave her friend the most witheringly deadpan look she could manage. “Dash, do you really think I'm gonna go and run my mouth? I wanna get out of here, not be wearing a straitjacket for the rest of my life. I'm right though, aren't I?”

After a few moment’s consideration, Rainbow nodded her head. “Yeah, Juniper was possessed by Equestrian magic and Sunset's new friend kicked the demon back where it came from. Juniper did a lot of property damage, and there were a few minor casualties, but you were the only one seriously hurt. She had a solid insanity defence at the trail. It really wasn't her,” explained the star athlete as best she understood what had happened, “It was the possession. Her uncle, Canter Zoom, took care of the damages. He also put half a million to your medical expenses. Doesn't help you walk again, but it’s something. Juniper got community service, total of a thousand hours.”

All the while Rainbow Dash spoke, Cyclone listened attentively. “So Blue was right,” she commented when there was silence between them, “Just wrong place at the wrong time?” she let out a deep sigh, “I know future me will be cool with this, but right now I wanna punch her right in the tits.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you do,” Rainbow grinned wide, because that was how she felt about Vignette Valencia, “But shit just happens. If you punch her, you won't be punching the one that did it.”

Rolling her eyes as she let out another deep, deep sigh, Cyclone said, “I know, Cap.” Then, she smiled, “Besides, I couldn't keep up with you anyway. Least now, I can do my own thing and maybe win once in a while.”

“You think that, huh?” Rainbow smirked, “Maybe I'll get one of those racing chairs just to push you.”

“Oh, it's on!” Cyclone laughed and shared a fist bump, “We're so having a race when I get outta here, Dash.”

“I'll give you chance to get some training in first,” promised Rainbow, who fully intended to go through with it, “But come the Fall, you better bring your A game. I don’t care if I’ll have graduated, we’re racing.”

“Like I ever bring anything other than my best, Cap,” Cyclone grinned, picturing the competition in her mind’s eye, “When I get out, you'll see, I'm gonna tear up the track at CHS.”

“I'll hold you to that, Cy.”

The rest of the visit was rather mundane. Rainbow Dash spent twenty minutes talking about what she’d been doing, and how the track team was looking forward to the start of the next school year. Most notable was that Tempest Shadow would be replacing her as team captain once she graduated and left.

With half an hour of visiting time left, Monsoon and Bluefeather returned with a tray of institutional coffee for everyone and they all shared more of Cyclone’s chocolates.

~ ~ ~

After a couple of medicated dreamless sleeps, Tuesday came around and, once Cyclone had polished off her dinner, the evening nurse wheeled her and her bed into the meeting room at seven p.m. sharp.

Unlike her room, which was a two tone blue and white, this was a warm rich burgundy on the walls, though it smelled no less sterile and disinfected. Already there, in addition to Good Hope, were five other patients. There were two men and a woman sat in chairs, one man in a wheelchair and a woman in a bed, like she was.

Since she wasn’t really sure what to expect, having never done anything like this ever before, Cyclone raised a nervous hand in a tentative wave to the group, “Hey…”

“Greetings Cyclone,” Good Hope welcomed her with his easy relaxed smile, “And welcome to the support group this evening.”

“What's up, Doc?” Cyclone had always wanted to say that, and she was pleased to see at least two of the group cracked a smile at her joke.

“Let me do introductions,” Good Hope continued, very much the conductor in charge of the assemblage, “Cyclone is a very recent paraplegic from the waist down.” He then pointed to a maple coloured man in a chair, “Logger will be released in seven days. Car accident, hit by a drunk driver. He lost his wife in the accident.”

Without pausing for breath, Good Hope moved onto the next man, “Loadstone,” he indicated a dark grey skinned individual, “He has stage four leukaemia.” After that, he pointed to the woman in a chair, she was at least twice Cyclone’s age, golden yellow with white hair, “Pyrite, her mother is in the hospital in hospice care for stage four lung cancer.”

After that, he moved onto the man in the wheelchair, “Allegro, he was shot in a convince store robbery and he’s a paraplegic from the waist down. This is his last meeting as he will be released tomorrow.” Finally, the doctor pointed to the pale blue woman in the bed. “This is Sea Breeze; She’s had a stroke. Learning to talk, but she can hear just fine. Cyclone, please start off with why you are in the hospital.”

“Um...” Cyclone didn’t know where to look for the best, so she settled on Good Hope. “Well, mine seems pretty lame compared to all of you,” she awkwardly rubbed the back of her head, feeling like she didn’t belong with these people, “I was at the mall with my girlfriend when I got a sunglasses stand thrown into my back. When I woke up, I was paralysed.”

“Allegro,” Good Hope turned immediately to the cherry red man, “Do you have anything to add?”

“Let go of the hate,” Allegro responded wisely, “You're starting a new life. Live it better than the old one.”

Despondently, Cyclone shrugged her shoulders, again searching for something to look at that wasn’t a person more injured than she was. She was looking for a long time. “I dunno who to even hate, y'know? The one who did it got arrested, got off on insanity, so...I really dunno, here I am, I guess…”

“Then why the nightmares on repeat?” asked Good Hope, getting straight to the core of what was bothering the troubled teenager.

“I know all about nightmares,” Logger spoke up as he brushed his unruly dark brown hair out of his eyes, “The shattering of glass and the bending of metal. Why her and not me. Unlike Allegro, I'm having a hard time letting go of the hate. But like Good Hope says, it’s pointless to hate a dead man.”

Why the nightmares? That was something Cyclone had been asking herself ever since they had started. “I guess,” she led with the best theory she had, “I was a runner at CHS. Not the best, but y'know, I wasn't bad, I got up early, I trained hard, won my share of cups and trophies. I'd just made it to the CHS national team. Then this happened, and like, out of nowhere I woke up and I can't walk. Then a day or two later I woke up after a surgery and I'm incontinent. I got scared and freaked, scared that the next time I'd wake up, I wouldn't be able to move, and so on, and it got worse.”

“Sea Breeze knows that feeling now,” added Good Hope, who received a wink of approval from the woman in the bed, “But she will fully regain the ability to move in time.”

“Where’s the break?”

Cyclone turned to the cherry red Allegro and replied, “I have a spacer for my L3 and rods. I suppose...the nightmares freak me out so much cos I end up totally paralysed, and I can't race at all, or do anything.”

“Mine is my T12,” Allegro commented with a rueful smile, “I have to wear a bag, because I wouldn't know if I’ve crapped myself till it hits my nose.”

“Thank you,” Pyrite balked at the man’s frankness and at the image he had placed in her head, “It's not a pleasant smell.”

“Do you think you'll have any more surgeries, Cyclone?” asked Good Hope, for the moment ignoring the little spat that had developed between Allegro and Pyrite, both of whom were sticking their tongues out at each other.

“I dunno, I mean, I hope not,” Cyclone replied defensively, very much on the back foot, even if she couldn’t stand on her back foot, “They haven't said anything. The other day, I was being a brat to True Heart, I said why bother exercising my legs, she said would you rather they be amputated, I said save that for the next time I wake up.” She paused and shuddered, “Now I'm scared to go sleep…”

“Made my mind up, I'm keeping mine.” Stated Allegro definitely, “I’m gonna put a pully system in and kick some ass from my chair!” when the others laughed at the old jock’s humour, Cyclone found herself laughing along with them before she knew what she was doing.

“I know it sounds lame,” Cyclone said once the laughter had died down, “Some bratty kid running her mouth all over the place.”

“The nightmares are real,” Logger spoke from experience, “It took a long time for me to wake up knowing I wasn't in the car. I still have them, even now.”

“And what are you taking for them?”

“Nothing,” Logger responded quickly to Good Hope’s question, “I took those trancs for a week, but the last thing I wanted was to be taking them for life.”

“Come on!” exclaimed Cyclone, drawing everyone’s attention to her, “I think the drugs are amazing!” she smiled a most contented smile, “I took it and I had the best night's sleep since I've been here. No dreams, no nightmare!”

“Work it out, kid,” Allegro said gruffly, earning a nod of agreement from Logger, “Know where you are, and get off the drug quick sharp.”

Good Hope agreed with Logger and Allegro. “The medication has a use, Cyclone, but it’s not meant to be the solution.”

In her bed, Cyclone couldn’t help but think back to the first day after she had taken the drug, and the recent days when she had been taking it, and to her full wastebasket. “Well...” she conceded, “I'll admit the throwing up wasn't any fun.”

Loadstone spoke up then, for the first time. The dark grey woman’s voice as low and gravelly as her name suggested. “Try chemo, kid.”

Cyclone had never experienced that, nor had she had a relative that had experienced it, but she knew instinctively it was a bad thing to endure. “That must really suck, huh?”

“Yeah, it does,” agreed Lodestone with a reluctant smile to the young girl, “But someone after me might have a chance. All I live for is the now.”

“Is it worth it?”

“Day to day on that, Doc.”

“And?”

“I'm going to beat this.”

Listening to the back and forth between Lodestone and Good Hope, Cyclone found herself genuinely smiling for one of the first times in recent days. It was infectious. “My team captain told me in no uncertain terms that it wasn't going to slow me down.”

“Like I said, the old life is gone,” Allegro repeated, this time not quite as gruffly as before, “Make the most of this new life.”

Pyrite quickly agreed with them. “It's hard though to go on knowing you'll leave someone behind.”

“Someone dying isn’t the worst part of death,” stated Good Hope, “The worst part is after, all the days they stay dead and you don’t. It’s never easy on the living. Even harder for some who are living on borrowed time.”

Logger and Allegro both raised up an imaginary glass of beer in a celebratory toast to the good doctor, “Preach it, brother.”

“Yeah, I guess I'm having trouble seeing it, y'know? Like,” Cyclone paused and she tried to organise her thoughts. She had never been all that eloquent, that was her girlfriend’s forte, using impressive words that teachers liked in her essays, “I'd be out training and running, and everything made sense. I could run for ages and ages and everything was right. Now all I can train is my arms, I miss running...” she awkwardly rubbed the back of her head and blushed, feeling really lame next to these patients. “Sorry…” that made her feel twice as lame.

“I miss a good bowel movement,” Allegro said bluntly, earning him a snigger from Logger and a roll of the eyes from Pyrite.

Logger added, “I miss my wife.”

Loadstone put in, “I miss the energy I used to have.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone decided she needed to pony up if she was ever going to get over this, “I need to stop whining about not running and embrace the wheelchair racing.” She smiled, because she knew there were people who had her back, no matter how much of a brat she was.

“More power to you,” Allegro grinned, “Me, I want to go fishing.”

“Part of moving forward is to let go of what you can no longer have, and taking on what you now have,” stated Good Hope wisely. After that, he produced a large box full of cupcakes, enough for them all to have two each, a tradition, as it was Allegro’s last meeting with the group.

~ ~ ~

Following the rather sobering group therapy session, Good Hope continued to reduce Cyclone’s medication, swapping it out for a placebo three days in the week. When she didn’t notice said change, the doctor reduced it even further, offering the placebo four nights.

After the second week in the hospital, Cyclone was only having the actual drug on every third day, and by the time the fourth week rolled around, she was only having the prescribed medication on the Monday.

It certainly helped that by the start of the third week of her ‘incarceration’, Cyclone was getting about in a wheelchair as thanks to her physical therapy, she was now strong enough to get in and out of bed herself.

Before anyone knew it, the time for Cyclone’s dismissal was at hand. Good Hope gave her a thirty day dose of placebos and told her to take them only as needed. Since this date was known to them all well in advance, Tropical Storm, Monsoon and Bluefeather were there to escort her out. “I suppose they’re going to make you leave in a wheelchair,” Tropical Storm couldn’t resist the cheesy dad joke, and Monsoon couldn’t resist performing an eyeroll at her husband’s cheesy dad joke.

Cyclone looked to Bluefeather, who was trying very hard not to lose it in a fit of giggles, and instead she addressed her nurse, who was also trying not to laugh. “Hey, can I wheel myself out, at least?”

True Heart, who was uncharacteristically giggling at the scene playing out before her, clapped Cyclone on the back and only nearly spilled her patient from the chair. “That you can,” she snickered, “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but do try to be a stranger.”

“And here I was gonna come see you every week too, True!”

At that, True Heart really did laugh out loud and she was still laughing when she waved Cyclone good-bye and went back into the hospital. For everything she had said, she really would miss the young woman. In the two months she had known her, she had grown fond of her.

The rest of the group followed Cyclone out of the elevator and out to the parking lot. “We do get better parking now,” Tropical Storm proudly showed off the bright sky blue minivan that was parked up in the disabled zone. “I have you signed up for Driver's Ed at CHS so you can drive this beauty yourself.”

“Oh cool!” Cyclone clapped her hands in giddy excitement at the prospect of driving the blue beauty. It looked like it could carry the whole track team! “Maybe I can drive this better than a regular car, I mean...yay!”

“That’s all part of being independent,” Tropical Storm grinned at his daughter, “More than enough room for you and your girlfriend in here,” he then added a completely unnecessary, “Nudge nudge wink wink,” along with actually nudging and winking at Cyclone and at Bluefeather, causing the grey skinned teenager to blush hard and Monsoon to use her best eyeroll, the one she saved for occasions like this.

“Sweet!” Cyclone cheered in the middle of the parking lot, her fists punching the air like she had just won a big race at CHS and she had been presented with a massive shiny trophy, “Make Out Mountain here we come!”

Poor Bluefeather was now burning up, doing an excellent imitation of a tomato while Tropical Storm led Cyclone around the van to the passenger side. They had to shield their eyes against the hot summer sun. “Use the side door handle and back up with the door,” he explained, “The button under the handle extends the ramp, but only with the door fully open.”

“I got it, dad,” Cyclone giggled as she operated the gizmo – she called everything she didn’t understand a ‘gizmo’ - and she manoeuvred herself into the vehicle’s seat. “Hey Blue, you know you're cute when you blush, right?”

In the van, Cyclone found the front right seat was missing so that she could move into that spot, wheelchair and all. The driver’s side looked normal, but for some extra levers on the steering wheel that weren’t ‘normal’. “The wheelchair locks there and behind the driver seat,” explained Tropical Storm while Monsoon and the intensely blushing Bluefeather sat in the first row of the back seats. “Once you pass the Driver’s Ed class, you can have the keys.”

“Sweet! Driver’s Ed here I come!” Cyclone had a very happy look on her face, one that rivalled the look she had the first time she had seen the work of art that was Exploding Ninja Pirates from Outer Space, “It’s so good to be free!”

Monsoon openly smirked at her daughter from her place in the back, “Cy did take Driver’s Ed in her junior year, and she only had one minor incident on some ice, and I can attest there was no damage.” She rather enjoyed the pout on Cyclone’s face, “You do have a week before classes start, and you have a membership to a gym now that specializes in paraplegic clients.”

Having finally recovered from her blush, Bluefeather added, “You’ll have that racing chair working in no time, babe.”

Just as Tropical Storm started up the van and pulled out of the lot, Cyclone looked over her shoulder and she saw the blush was missing from her grey cheeks. She determined to put it back. “You just want to ogle the gun show, right babe?” she demonstratively flexed an arm.

And as quick as that, Bluefeather felt that blush return to her cheeks, warming her face, again. It wasn’t her fault, how was she supposed to resist that bulging bicep. “I'm not going to complain,” she retorted, “You’re all sexy and buff!”

Modest as ever, Cyclone flashed her girlfriend a wink, “Damn right I'm sexy, I’m even sexier with my top off…”

“Please save the flirting for when we get home,” interjected Monsoon, despairing that yet again she was the voice of reason. “I'm sure your father has a camera somewhere to record it.”

Quickly, Cyclone shut up. She remembered what her dad had said to her weeks ago, that he didn’t want her in his magazine. Still. “Consider it saved, mom. Oh...” a thought occurred to her then as her dad drove along the street, “I guess my room isn't upstairs anymore, huh?”

“It is, actually,” replied Monsoon, “We redecorated the house to suit you. Of the settlement you received, you have just over two hundred thousand left.”

“While you can't get the money,” Tropical Storm added quickly, because he knew what his daughter was thinking, namely how many comics she could buy with that amount of money. “You can submit expenses for anything related to your injury. This minivan, the house remodelling, your hospital visits and any rehab you might need.”

A short time later, they arrived back at Cyclone’s home, the first time she had seen it in two months. One of the first things she took note of was the ramp at the front entrance. “There’s a ramp at the back too and another to get to the pool,” Tropical Storm explained to her while Monsoon helped her out of the van. “You're on your own if you use the diving board.”

Inside the large house – that was admittedly more of a mansion than a house – Cyclone immediately caught sight of the new chair lift for both the stairs going up to the second floor and stairs going down to the basement. All doors had also been made wide enough for a wheelchair to go through. There had never been much in the way of clutter in the home, thanks to her mother and the cleaning staff being so assiduous, so Cyclone judged that moving around room to room shouldn’t pose her a problem.

“Wow...” Cyclone exclaimed, “Look at this place! All these things were changed in a month? I'm impressed!” she wheeled herself through the house and she looked around eagerly like it was Hearth’s Warming morning, “Not that I wanna ditch you guys, but I want to ditch you and get to my room.”

As it happened, Bluefeather was also keen to get herself and Cyclone into her bedroom. It had been two months, after all. A girl had needs. Needs that hadn’t been attended to in two months. “Come on, check out the lift!”

“I'm right behind you, babes!” and she was, too. She was just as eager as Bluefeather to get upstairs. Thankfully, the lift was simple to operate, simple enough for Cyclone to operate, and it was slow enough that Bluefeather was able to walk up the stairs with her.

Luckily, Cyclone found her bedroom where she had left it, with a few new additions, notably her new bed with bars so she could get in and out with ease. The desk had a chair, but it could also accommodate the wheelchair. The balcony outside had a small ramp to get over the sliding glass door hump.

Bluefeather closed the door behind her, shutting them both inside faced with the sprawling views out of the huge windows. There was a smirk in her voice when she spoke. “Alone with you at last.”

“I've been waiting for this for so long!”

“So have I…”

When Cyclone turned her chair around, she saw Bluefeather was already halfway undressed. She had her top off and she was swiftly removing her bra, “Oh my...” she quickly wheeled herself over to the bed and got on, and she immediately started to take off her tee shirt in order to catch up.

“I'm going to do everything I can to make you feel me,” promised Bluefeather with intent in her eyes and her voice as her skirt quickly joined her top and her bra on the bedroom floor, “Your nurse was a wealth of information.”

“Yeah, that sounds like True,” Cyclone giggled and, inspired by the sexy eyes she was getting, she managed to strip off her denim shorts and her admittedly unflattering panties. Those gone, she looked down at her unshaven crotch and blushed, “You'll have to ignore the forestation…”

“I don't mind at all,” Bluefeather was up on the bed in one motion, secreting herself between her girlfriend’s hairy legs and her even hairier vagina. The hair didn’t bother her. After two months she wouldn’t have cared if it had been certified as a jungle. She was going in.

Giggling away to hide her uncertain nerves, Cyclone said, “There was no way I was letting True shave me.” She trusted her nurse, but there was limits.

“I could give you a trim, but then I could do this…” Bluefeather took hold of a turquoise pubic hair at the top and pulled it hard.

Cyclone did feel the pressure, but not as much pain as she would have expected. “Ah!” the black skinned teenager yelped, “I felt that, like...not as much as before, but I felt it!” Experimentally, Bluefeather moved down to the centre of the labia and she pulled out another hair, “Ah!” Cyclone gasped pre-emptively, because she could see and should feel something, then she frowned a little when she felt nothing.

A frown that matched Cyclone’s crossed Bluefeather’s face at her apparent failure, “I think trimming you one hair at a time is not the best way to go.” So, she decided on another path. She parted the labia with her fingers and she playfully toyed with her girlfriend’s clitoris.

While Cyclone certainly felt the pressure of Bluefeather’s fingers, there was no joy from the love button. After a few seconds, she grunted in frustration, then she immediately felt double guilty because Bluefeather was doing her best. “Babes, don't think I don't appreciate it, I do, but um...could you maybe go inside?”

“This is for me, not you,” Bluefeather looked up from her workstation with a giggle, “I’m just confirming what True Heart told me. Now to get you to really feel me. Ah, wait!” she got off the bed and she moved to the desk and investigated the bottom left drawer. There, she pulled out a tube of lube and she returned to the bed. “I’m glad you parents transferred everything from the old desk to the new one.”

“Sorry babes,” Cyclone completely missed the implication that both her parents had seen the contents of their sexy times drawer, “I'm being a brat again, aren't I?”

Bluefeather saw the guilty blush her girlfriend wore and she had to agree with her. “You're my brat. You are a bit dry down there, but I think I can change that. When I'm done you're going to need to change the sheets.”

It amazed Cyclone how Bluefeather made squeezing out a dollop of lube onto her fingers an intimidating gesture, but she did and it really turned Cyclone on. “Oh yeah?” her familiar cocky smile returned, “And just what are you gonna do, huh?”

A smile crossed Bluefeather’s face, because her girlfriend was as slow on the uptake as ever. Instead of replying, she worked her fingers inside her tunnel far enough that she could reach the G spot. “Time to see if what True told me was true…”

Up at the head of her bed, Cyclone’s eyes went wide as she watched all Bluefeather's fingers fit inside her. That was new. “Y-You got them all in! We...we've never done that before!”

By contrast, Bluefeather was a picture of control. “Relax and let me take you away on a pleasure cruise.”

“Blow me away babes!” Cyclone bit her lip and she watched the grey hand disappear in and out of her like a magic trick, going deeper every time. Bluefeather, smirking, ran her fingers not too delicately around Cyclone’s wet inner walls but mostly she toyed with her G spot.

As the natural vaginal fluids started to flow, Bluefeather knew she was doing it right. She had a plan, and her thrusting fingers were going to achieve that plan. The more she played with her G spot, she got what she wanted. Cyclone shot a little fountain of urine after spluttering out a too late, “I'm gonna p...'.”

Usually one who was fastidiously super clean, Bluefeather couldn’t care less that she was splattered over her arm and face with Cyclone’s pee as the golden liquid dripped down to her modest B cup chest. “Don’t think I'm done with you yet, brat.” Now they were fully lubricated, she pushed her fingers deeper inside her.

“Wh-Wha...MMmmm!” Cyclone gave up questioning what Bluefeather was doing as she felt those fingers going deeper. She had been worried in the hospital that she’d never feel this again, but she could definitely feel it. “O-Oh my, Blue!”

“I have toys,” Bluefeather smirked, feeling like she was on such a power trip with her hand and some of her forearm in her girlfriend’s snatch, “But they're at home. I want you to feel me, and trust me, it is hot to watch this.”

“Oh, it's hot...” Cyclone looked down again and she was greeted to the sight of Bluefeather's hand completely inside her and she felt her fingertips so close to her cervix, “It looks hot and it feels hot!”

Leaning down, Bluefeather kissed just above her arm, “I'm sorry you’re not getting pleasure from this, but I am.” Finally, before Cyclone could say anything, she tapped her cervical wall.

“Oh...oooOOH!” Cyclone was unprepared for the tap; she was even more unprepared for Bluefeather to start pulling her arm out and thrusting it back inside. “I-I wouldn't say Mmmm I'm not getting any!” Each deep thrust she felt a firm tap to her cervix, and soon she was a mewling and moaning mess.

“Be sure to thank the nurse for my education, Cy.”

“I-I'll MMMMmmm I'll send her a Hearths Warming card!” it wasn’t possible for True Heart to be further away from Cyclone’s thoughts as four fingers and a thumb tapped her in rapid succession like a machine gun and she came to an Equestria shattering climax in no time at all.

When Cyclone had ridden out her orgasm, Bluefeather pulled her hand out and while she licked her glistening fingers clean, she admired the gaping pussy before her knowing she had made it happen. “My turn, brat. I could make you crawl your body around to eat me out, or I could just sit on your face.”

There was only one choice. “I was born to be your seat, Blue.” It wasn’t really a choice.

That suited Bluefeather just fine. “A fine seat you are, lover,” she promptly spun around and she swung her left leg over Cyclone’s face. Satisfied, she lowered her clean shaven pussy down on her face. While she was facing her feet, she started playing with her almost non-existent A cup boobs.

“MMmmm!” Cyclone’s pleasured moan was muffled considerably by Bluefeather's toned shapely rear. She quickly got to work, teasing her at first with slow deliberate licks up and down her girlfriend’s slick labia.

While she was being attended to, Bluefeather was discovering she was enjoying being the dominant partner. There was something about having a tongue forced up into her as she ground down on her face that she found really, really arousing.

To encourage her seat to lick her harder and faster, Bluefeather groped Cyclone’s tiny breasts and tweaked her nipples. Hard. After a few moments of teasing, she went to work properly on Bluefeather's dripping wet snatch, alternating between thrusting her tongue in and out and licking at her hard throbbing clitoris. That really hit the spot. Or multiple spots, as it were. Bluefeather expressed her pleasure by pressing down on her seat. in pleasure. “There!” she squealed when that tongue went in her again, “Right there, Cy, it has been too long!”

“MmHHHMMmm!” Cyclone swirled her tongue in deep around Bluefeather's muscular walls a few times and then she returned her attention to sucking on her clit.

“Do me Cyclone! Do me!” screamed Bluefeather, and her girlfriend’s muffled, ‘Yes ma'am!’ only made her hornier and hornier, wetter and wetter. Under her, Cyclone wrapped her lips around Bluefeather's clit, nibbling on it gently and sucking on it as hard as she could. That did it for her. Bluefeather spasmed on top of her. “Cyclone!”

After a full minute, Bluefeather fell forwards panting for breath and supported barely by her arms. After that minute, sixty full seconds of no air, Cyclone desperately tapped at her girlfriend's leg when she showed no sign of letting up or getting up. Heeding the signal, Bluefeather slid forward until her head was between Cyclone’s knees. “Thank you for being there for me…”

“Thank you, babes, for the same thing…” Cyclone breathed, and she groped at Bluefeather's ass, since it was right there on her chest in front of her at arm's reach. On top of her, Bluefeather murred, one hand was tickling under a knee, but Cyclone couldn't see or feel it. Even so, she was still smiling at doing it.

“I always did like a full moon…” Cyclone massaged Bluefeather's ass, her hands dangerously close to her wet moist pussy.

“I still think you owe me another. I'll let you breath this time.”

“I think so too!” in complete and utter agreement, Cyclone slid two of her fingers into Bluefeather's tunnel, her thumb of the other hand playing with her sensitive nub. She wasn’t sure if she could take a hand like she could.

Bluefeather allowed Cyclone to move her forward or back until she was comfortable and, after that, she was content to rock back and forth on her girlfriend’s two fingers. Under her lover, with her grey feet either side of her head, the athlete was struck by an inspiration.

She stopped thrusting her fingers in and out of her for a moment so she could put Bluefeather's feet on her face, where she kissed them like she was making out with her. While she planted wet sloppy kissed on her girlfriend’s toes, she returned to sliding her fingers in and out of her and thumbing her hard clit.

On top, Bluefeather squealed and giggled as she felt her toes get pleasured. It was new but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. To tease her, she wiggled her toes in Cyclone’s mouth. Smirking, Cyclone kissed and sucked on each wiggling toe and then she slipped in a third finger into Bluefeather’s dripping snatch.

When Cyclone paid full attention to rubbing her sensitive clit harder, Bluefeather screamed as she came hard. Not only did she squirt her orgasm all over Cyclone’s face, but she also splayed out her toes, rubbing them over her nose and mouth. Riding out her climax, she slid forward some more until her head was between a pair of black legs. “Cyclone!” she breathed, “I...wow!”

“I know,” Cyclone didn’t bother to keep the smug grin out of her voice, “I blew you away.” She sounded very proud of herself, which she was, “Like...a cyclone!” Then, she hugged the only body part she could reach, Bluefeather's lower legs and more importantly, her feet.

Slowly, Bluefeather rolled over so that her back was laid on Cyclone’s front, “I find comfort in your storm, baby,” she grinned, before smothering her grinning face with the soles of her feet.

Chapter 5 - Return to the Mall

Early the next morning, so early the sun hadn’t risen, Bluefeather woke up with Cyclone still asleep next to her in the bed. “Some things never change,” she said softly to herself. Said ‘thing’ was her brat laid on her front, snoring like a buzzsaw and drooling into her pillow.

Quietly, but not too quietly, she knew a bomb could go off and her brat wouldn’t wake up, the grey skinned teenager slipped out of the bed and she put on a long knee length t-shirt she sometimes slept in. Modesty covered, Bluefeather crept out of the bedroom in search of coffee and some pastry for breakfast for the two of them.

“Good morning, Blue,” Monsoon, dressed in a long cream coloured bathrobe, greeted Bluefeather in the kitchen with a pleasant smile. She was nursing a large mug of steaming hot coffee and a plate of pancakes. “Buzzsaw still asleep?”

“The puddle of water around her mouth makes her less noisy,” Bluefeather giggled as she padded barefoot across the hard wood floor to the life giving miracle that was the coffee maker. “Just getting coffee for two and some pastries.”

“You deserve a medal, dear,” Monsoon giggled and sipped at her coffee, an act that elicited a happy contented sigh from the older woman, “How's she doing now she's free?”

“We're keeping each other distracted,” answered Bluefeather honestly, while at the same time not going into too many details, “I think she has moved to acceptance, and I'm there now too.”

“Good, good.” Monsoon thoughtfully swilled her coffee around in her mug and in her mouth, “I must admit, we were worried while she was in the hospital.”

“I think the nurse helped a lot,” Bluefeather commented as she manipulated the coffee machine to produce two fresh, steaming mugs, “She really helped me to know what to expect, and how to cope with it when it happens.”

Monsoon nodded her head at that. True Heart had indeed been a god send to them all, as had Good Hope the psychiatrist. “So,” she said once she had swallowed her coffee, “What's the plan for today?”

“Mall,” when Monsoon raised her eyebrows in surprise, Bluefeather followed up quickly, “Yes, that mall. Movie theatre and then some shopping your husband would approve of.” she winked, “I think you would too.”

It was a good thing Monsoon had drank her coffee, else she would have spurted it over the kitchen table. “Oh, I see,” she said carefully, “Getting back on the horse. I approve. I assume you'll be giving the MiAC some money?”

“You have to help the economy,” Bluefeather snickered as she placed the two mugs on a silver tray and proceeded to raid the fridge for pastries, “For therapy of course. I'll bring back the receipts.”

“Oh yes,” Monsoon gave the teenager a wink of her own, “Therapy. Good luck with the mall, and I wish you even better luck with enduring the movie.” she raised up her empty mug in a salute and a show of solidarity.

“Ah yes, Exploding Ninja Pirates From Outer Space 4,” Bluefeather playfully rolled her eyes, “I have an audio book on emergency backup ready to go in case it’s too ridiculous to laugh at.” Having successfully raided the fridge, she placed four pastries on the tray and she walked out.

Up in the bedroom, Cyclone was awake and, having used the bed’s function, was sat up, and she was busy wiping the sleep from her eyes and the drool from her mouth on her pillow as Bluefeather walked in. “Hey babes!” she squealed excitedly, feeling much more awake than she had before.

“Good morning. Have you wrung out your pillow?” snarked Bluefeather, “I have coffee and Danishes for us.”

“Yup!” Cyclone casually nudged her wet pillow onto the floor, where it landed with a dull flumf and a wet splat in equal measure, “All awake and drool free!”

After Bluefeather set the tray down on the roll around table and slid it over the bed, she cast open the curtains to allow the rising sun to illuminate the bedroom. Then, she got in bed to join her beloved brat for breakfast. “Ooooh breakfast!” Cyclone’s belly welcomed the food, “I knew there was a reason I love you!”

“What? Only one?” Bluefeather responded as she sat back comfortably against the raised up part of the bed and smugly drank her coffee.

Realising she had fell one hundred per cent into her girlfriend’s trap, Cyclone coughed and spluttered for a few seconds. “One reason among many, babes,” she tried to save herself when she could speak.

Happy and satisfied she had won, Bluefeather giggled and nibbled one of her pastries in celebration. “It’s your first morning at home. How are you doing?”

“Uuuh...” Cyclone set aside her pastry and her coffee and she actually took a moment to think about the question. Was she okay? Really? She had no idea, and she knew she wasn’t articulate enough, she didn’t know the fancy words, to say what she felt. “I'm okay, I guess…” she offered eventually.

Bluefeather could see her girlfriend struggling to find the words, and it comforted her she was taking it seriously for once. “I'm okay too, Cy.” Acceptance was where she was at, and it had been a journey for her to get there.

“I mean, I'm not gonna burst into a song or anything,” Cyclone expanded upon her previous comment, “But I'm not super down either.” She rested her head solemnly on Bluefeather's shoulder, “I'm glad you're okay too.”

“The movie is at two, and we'll go shopping after,” Bluefeather said softly as she laid her head on her girlfriend’s and held her hand. She then tilted Cyclone’s head up and gave her a pastry and coffee flavoured kiss. “You know where the theatre is, right?”

“Like I'd ever forget that,” Cyclone shuddered, because she had been walking past the movie theatre with Bluefeather when Juniper had thrown the sunglasses stand at her. “It'll be fine!” she tried to convince herself, “Just going to the mall, to watch a movie. Happens all the time.”

“It does,” agreed Bluefeather, “And I'm going to take advantage of it.”

“I’m just...ugh...nervous I guess,” Cyclone was loathe to admit just how nervous she actually was, “Y'know, us going back there, after everything that happened...”

“I'll be with you,” promised Bluefeather earnestly, taking the two black hands in hers and holding them tight, “And this time I won't turn away.”

“Well,” Cyclone pointed out as she tore savagely into her second pastry, “Hopefully this time I won't get something huge thrown at me.”

Smirking, Bluefeather decided to teach her brat a lesson in talking with your mouth full like that, “Popcorn is small.”

Predictably, Cyclone laughed and she almost choked on her pastry in her mouth. “Good point, babes,” she responded after she had been clapped on her back several times.

“I'll try to watch the film too.”

Having recovered from her choking coughing fit, Cyclone laughed, “If you manage to stay awake for the whole thing I'll be amazed.”

“That won't be the problem,” Bluefeather said with a teasing wink, “It will be listening to you telling me over and over how much better the comic was compared to the movie, and how you could do it better.”

“That was entirely your fault, babes,” Cyclone crossed her arms defiantly, “I believe it was you who bought me the first edition of the Exploding Ninja Pirates From Outer Space graphic novel?”

“Plus the subscription.” Added Bluefeather, who carefully chose to omit the fact she only bought that because she forgot her girlfriend actually liked the Power Ponies and she had needed a birthday present a year ago.

Right!” cheered Cyclone like she had just won a huge argument, “So when they make a movie out of it, you know I am going to love it!” to seal her perceived win, she gave Bluefeather a pasty flavoured kiss of her own, “And you'd tolerate it!”

Playfully, Bluefeather rolled her eyes in a very good imitation of Monsoon, “The price one pays for unconditional love.”

“And I do love you unconditionally, Blue.” Even if she wasn’t sure what that meant. “So...shopping. I'd really like to keep doing the dom sub thing we did yesterday, y'know, if you liked it too as much as I did, I mean.”

After they had finished off their breakfast of pastries and coffee, Bluefeather said in a most confident dominant tone of voice, “I want to drive your van around. Let’s go to the park and get some exercise before the movie starts.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone, as slow as she was, recognised the tone in her girlfriend’s voice, and she was fine with that. “The park it is. Just need to get dressed first.”

“So do I!”

“What,” Cyclone snickered, “In more than that long tee shirt?” she giggled, knowing she might pay for her snark later. Then, she stopped smiling and her face fell. She felt a horribly familiar sensation in her nappy. She was wet. It was a cold, clammy wet unpleasant feeling. It was her first day without the nurse on hand. “Before we get dressed, I uh, I'm wet…” her blush didn't show on her jet black skin, but it was obvious to anyone who knew her she was hugely embarrassed, more so than when she was playing the 'baby'.

“You’re wet?” Bluefeather remembered what the nurse told her in the hospital. “Oh, right, wet. Since we've been playing, I think this is the first time you've used your nappy. Um, would you like me to help you with that?”

“Yes please, Blue.”

Bluefeather’s heart broke for her girlfriend in that moment. She could read her body language like a book, and she was definitely embarrassed, and Bluefeather thought it would be hard to do that to Cyclone. “Okay,” she rubbed her hands, “I got this. Do we have supplies?”

“Yeah,” Cyclone suddenly found the window very interesting indeed, “True Heart sent me home with a bag full of stuff, it should be under the bed somewhere.”

Quickly, Bluefeather put on her ‘assertive nana’ voice. She had to shut this down pretty fast. “Okay, little Cy. Just lay still and Nana Blue will take care of your nappy.” As she laid the bed down flat, Bluefeather could feel the heat radiating from Cyclone's face like a mini sun. While she opened her nappy, she watched her shut her eyes tight. “Jeez, you're like wet, wet.” Bluefeather giggled and reached for the bag of supplies, “Um, okay, it doesn't smell too bad.” She removed the sodden nappy and used a wipe to make sure her brat was clean. “Gotta say, this isn't as sexy as last night when I was diddling with you.”

“I’m sorry Blue.”

Cyclone’s extremely tiny voice, a voice that said it was no fun for her either, made Bluefeather finally look up from her work at her face. “Hey now, none of that. If you start feeling guilty, then I'm going to start feeling guilty, and we'll be back to where we were a month ago. Do we want that?”

“You're right,” Cyclone conceded, “I know you're right. It's just, well, like you said, you've never had to change a real wet one before.”

“I was okay with that, and saved on buying nappies,” Bluefeather efficiently put on a clean one. “Now, we just need to get with the reality of today. So, you want to wear a onesie?”

“Don't tell me, a bright pink one,” finally, Cyclone opened her eyes and she made a little tentative giggle, “And you said you'd never embarrass me. Proved you wrong.”

Bluefeather closed up the wet nappy, “Catch,” she tossed it to Cyclone, who caught it. “Okay, I'm going long!” she ran over to the waste basket by the door, and, laughing at last, she threw it to Bluefeather, who dropped it in the trash can. “Score!” Dancing in victory, she went over to the dresser. “Yes, the pink one. You're going to look so cute!”

“You know I've never worn that outside, right?”

Now Bluefeather blushed, “I know, and we don't have to, but a light dress over it and it will look like pink leggings and sleeves.”

“Let's do it!” Cyclone made her mind up with a smile before she could change it. “You're very cute when you blush like that, you know that, right?”

“I’m cute all the time,” responded Bluefeather with a roll of her eyes, before she went to the closet and pulled out the pink onesie she had in mind and a royal blue dress. “This is going to look hot, and I'll know what is under the dress!”

“I can't wait to couple it with a grey collar,” Cyclone was almost giddy, “That'll make it double hot!”

Onesie and dress in hand, Bluefeather helped Cyclone get dressed, starting with her uncooperative legs. She then swapped the long shirt out for a green dress in the same summer style as her girlfriend’s blue one. “Now for the finishing touch,” she announced as she walked out of the closet and wrapped a grey collar around her black neck.

“Oh jeez...Blue...I mean, ma'am...this is so hot!” Cyclone didn’t know where Bluefeather had gotten the collar from, or how long she’d had it. She didn’t spare it a second thought on the way out of the mansion to the blue minivan. The Front passenger seat was still removed for Cyclone to put her chair there. She was happy to sit and be driven, humming a little tune. “How you finding the van?”

Bluefeather was finding the van remarkably easy to drive. It helped it was early in the morning and there wasn’t much traffic about. “I think I'll need to get you a chauffeur's hat.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone had a moment's thought as the van drove along. She wasn’t looking at the road ahead, but at the city moving past the window. “Do you prefer ma'am, or should I call you Mistress, or what?”

“Wow, I've not thought about that,” admitted Bluefeather, and she hadn’t. She supposed she really ought to though, if they were going to be doing this play. “When we played before, it was Nana. I guess things are getting a lot more serious now,” she said as she pulled up at a junction and ran her fingers along the grey collar her girlfriend now wore.

“You put a collar on me, Blue,” Cyclone shivered when her grey fingers delicately brushed against the skin of her black neck, “That's new, and I think that's pretty serious, babes.”

“It got serious today when we're doing this in public,” agreed Bluefeather, “I love you. What term makes you more comfortable?”

“Well,” Cyclone gave the matter some serious consideration as she felt the van turn onto the next road, “Mistress is the accepted thing, I kinda know that much, but uh...well, Ma'am feels like a grown up version of Nana, y'know?”

“Maybe we can use Ma'am in public, but…” Bluefeather added with a wide smile, “Perhaps you call me Mistress in our private time.”

“Yes Mistress,” then, in response to the questioning look that Bluefeather gave her, she explained, “What, we're alone in the van, aren’t we?”

Laughing, Bluefeather had to admit, “That we are, Cy.”

“Damn...” Cyclone muttered softly, but not so softly that her girlfriend couldn’t hear her over the van’s engine, “I never really thought I was that submissive, but that felt good, calling you Mistress, Mistress.”

Thoughtfully, Bluefeather nodded. “I can definitely get used to this.” She could also get used to the tingling sensation of arousal between her legs that being called ‘Mistress’ gave her. “You need a pet name. Brat could work.”

“I like that,” Cyclone was quick to agree to that, “Brat it is, Mistress.”

Moments later, and Bluefeather pulled the minivan into the botanical garden park and she found a nice up front handicapped spot in the parking lot. “Now, for some relaxing in our nature in the middle of a city.”

“Look at this!” exclaimed Cyclone with a happy grin, “We get the premier parking. I can get used to this.”

“One of the things I'll be happy to take advantage of,” Bluefeather nodded as she killed the engine, “I got a review hanger for my car too, when you ride in it.”

“That's awesome!” Cyclone removed herself and her wheelchair from the passenger side of the minivan while Bluefeather daintily made her way around to her, “C'mon then, let's go do nature, babes. I mean, Mistress babes.”

As Cyclone wheeled herself along, Bluefeather walked by her side, a hand resting on her shoulder. “Is this where I say I think you're being naughty?” she asked with a giggle, that hand squeezing gently, “Or you're being a brat?”

“I wasn't being a brat, Mistress, honest,” Cyclone’s blue eyes went wide with the realisation that she'd admitted to being naughty. “I'm so used to calling you 'babes', it just slipped out.”

On the main path, Bluefeather stopped to look at some of the flowering summer plants. “I don't think either of us will drop into this role overnight, Cy.”

“You getting nervous about it?” Cyclone quickly added on, “Mistress?”

While she was studying the beautiful flowers, Bluefeather shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not nervous, as such, but I’m maybe uncertain, as to what I need to do and be for you.”

“Yeah, I think I get that,” Cyclone reached up and she took hold of her girlfriend's hand while she was looking at the flowers. They weren’t her thing, but she could appreciate they were pretty enough. “I guess it's easier for me. I just have to worship your feet and be your seat.”

Thankfully, Bluefeather squeezed the hand that held hers. “I just want you, and everyone else to know that you're just as sexy now as you've always been. Then, that is why I want to go shopping after we’ve watched the movie.”

Cyclone smiled up appreciatively at Bluefeather, “I look like me, only I don't feel like me sometimes. I know there are other people that have it worse than I do, than we do, but...I dunno...I have to remind myself I'm sexy, I guess.”

Looking around the park, Bluefeather saw that the place was empty before lunch. A very naughty idea crept into her brain. “You have something I don't have, brat.”

“What's that, Mistress?” asked Cyclone, who was slow as ever.

With a wide smirk all over her face, Bluefeather gripped the hem of her dress and flipped it up, revealing her bare behind to her girlfriend and the empty park, “Underwear!”

Treated to such a beautiful sight, Cyclone’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Holy shit, Blue!” laughing, Bluefeather skipped around her wheelchair bound girlfriend, but she teasingly held her skirt down. Cyclone reached for her skirt and missed.

Out of her reach, Bluefeather turned and mooned Cyclone, then she moved close enough for a pat and she quickly moved away as she turns around. “You're not the only exhibitionist. I'm just trying to avoid your father's camera.”

“That was the best full moon ever!” Cyclone giggled after patting Bluefeather's toned round butt cheeks. “Is that why you sent me downstairs naked last night, miss exhibitionist?”

“I see you're on to my game,” Bluefeather said with a faux snap of her fingers like she had been caught out, “I'm going to get you to the little park down from your house in just a onesie.”

Not for the first time, Cyclone's body language betrayed a very intense blush, “R-Really, Mistress?”

While Bluefeather's dress was too tight to give her brat a good view of her breasts, that didn’t stop her from bending over and kissing Cyclone's cheek. “Oh yes I am…” she left that hanging in the air as she kissed her on the mouth.

“Mmmmm!” thoroughly aroused, Cyclone returned the kiss and she allowed her hands to wander as far down her body as she could reach, stopping at her hips.

“You want another peek, don't you?”

“The thought had occurred to me, Mistress, y'know, seeing as we're alone.”

Smirking, and only because they were alone in the park, Bluefeather stepped up to the wheelchair and flipped her dress over Cyclone's head. “Close enough for you?”

“Hmm yes Mistress…” Cyclone immediately had her right hand on Bluefeather’s hip and her left on her inner thigh almost between her legs, where her head was, mere inches away from her perfect hairless pussy.

Standing over her, Bluefeather rubbed her crotch all over her brat’s face before she stepped away from her, leaving her panting in her chair. “Hmm, I want to do more of that in the future.”

“I'd like that too, Mistress,” responded Cyclone with a glistening sheen of pussy juices all over her face, “I’d like that a lot.”

Bluefeather took up Cyclone's hand as they continued around the gardens. “Sometimes I think nothing has changed,” she started, then she tapped a tire with her shoe, “And other times I think that everything has changed. Then I realize we are who we are now, and nothing will change that.”

“I'm still sucking air in, Blue,” Cyclone said as she squeezed her girlfriend’s hand, “And I'm thankful for that. I mean, yeah, this whole deal sucks, I won't lie, but y'know what? Like True Heart said, it could've been way worse.” She pulled Bluefeather into her lap and she hugged her tight. “I'm still here, I still got you. I'll work with what I got.”

“As will I. Now, what should we do for lunch? Mall food court? Burger Joint? Something healthy?”

“I fancy a BJ, babes.”

First, Bluefeather rolled her eyes at the old in joke she shared with her bratty girlfriend, then she laughed along with her. “You'll have to get a foot long then,” she sniggered, giving the correct old response. “First, let's go to the pond. They have feeding stations for the ducks and I'll get hungry watching them eat.”

“Come on then, let's get the duckies fed,” Cyclone laughed as she wheeled herself along the path. “By the way, I know what MiAC thing I'm getting you later.”

“Good, I look forward to the surprise.”

~ ~ ~

After spending an hour feeding the ducks in the park, Bluefeather parked up at the mall. “I still want popcorn for the movie,” she said as they got out of the minivan and she locked the doors.

“You can't have a movie without popcorn!” agreed Cyclone, and the two of them crossed the parking lot, with Bluefeather heading for the theatre entrance. When they got inside, Cyclone was struck by how normal everything looked. The damage was all repaired, like nothing had ever happened. When the sunglasses stand was in sight, and she was roughly twenty or so feet away, Cyclone froze. “It was here,” she said softly. “It happened here.”

Bluefeather knelt down next to Cyclone and she put an arm around her shoulders. “Yes,” she said softly but assuredly, “You were there.” She pointed to a spot on the ground not too far away, “And I was cowering over there,” she pointed again to a different spot.

“You were trying to get me to look at a purse you thought my mom would like, and I was in a mood being an utter nasty brat. You said, "I'm shopping for your mom, Cy, you can at least show interest".” Cyclone paused and took a deep breath as the memory came back to her, “Then...there was screaming, and everything went black.”

“Well, if it helps, if you were destined to get hit, by not being next to me you saved me.”

“We wouldn't have been there at all if I'd just picked out a damn purse, instead of demanding to go to the comic store.”

“It's a bit late for wouldn't haves, ifs, buts and maybes,” said Bluefeather wisely, “If we got you mom's present early, we would have been playing nana and baby.”

“I think that’s a moral for me, don't be a mardy bitch,” Cyclone reached over and hugged and kissed her girlfriend to her, “You're right though, Blue. Bit late for what ifs and might've beens.”

“Are you ready to be a brat about how Hollywood did your bestest comic wrong?” asked Bluefeather once she had been hugged enough. She did though have distinctly wet eyes when she stood up, a fact she was glad her girlfriend was too slow to notice.

Suddenly smiling, Cyclone’s mood took a huge upswing. “Am I ever! I mean, surely you can't mess up a movie about exploding ninja pirates?”

Bluefeather was sure the creators of the movie had found some way to annoy her girlfriend. “Let’s roll and see how they found a way to do so, shall we?”

“Your wish is my command, Ma'am!” much to the amusement of a couple of passers-by, Cyclone offered Bluefeather a cheeky little salute and then she sat her on her knee, before she quickly rolled them both over to the movie theatre.

~ ~ ~

Two hours later, and by some miracle, Bluefeather still had just under a third of her popcorn left as she headed out of the movie theatre. She glanced down at Cyclone by her side and at the sour look on her face. “Are you still upset that they used grenades instead of exploding shuriken?”

“How in the name of God's High Heaven can you mess up the signature weapons?” fumed Cyclone, who was still as angry now as she had been thirty minutes into the movie, “Fucking grenades! Grenades! When was the last time you read about a pirate ninja using grenades? Never! Why? Because they're ninjas!”

“Samurai Wolf used grenades,” Bluefeather pointed out as she opened the doors for them so they could leave, “But he wasn't a ninja. Having a shuriken stick in your head and explode is cool, but I think they just couldn't get the special effects.”

Cyclone though was in no mood to be diplomatic or generous to Canter Zoom, the movie’s creator, “And the effects were cheaper than a two bit steak!” she continued her rant unabashed, “The bad practical effects of the first movie are charming! There's nothing charming about shit CGI. And the Busty Bess is supposed to be a flying galleon, not a battleship!”

Realising this was going to go on for some time, Bluefeather took a deep breath and she reminded herself she loved her girlfriend. “I'm sure they did some study that said battleships are cool, and no one these days knows what a galleon is.”

“You know what the crowning turd in the cow pat cake was?” Cyclone raged as if Bluefeather hadn’t spoken at all, “Four movies in and they finally got to the Nightmare Ch…” Unfortunately, the rest of Cyclone’s rant was silenced by her girlfriend’s grey hand clapped over her mouth. They were walking past the line of people waiting to get in, and Bluefeather didn’t want to spoil the movie for them.

As it was, when Cyclone had said ‘Nightmare’, there were a few nasty looks and muttered curses thrown their way, which was nothing compared to the muffled rants and squeals and grunts from the wheelchair bound athlete until they were well away from the line. “Okay,” she said once Bluefeather had removed her hand, “I'm fine, I'm over it.”

With a kiss, Bluefeather doubted whether or not her girlfriend was actually over it yet or not. “I noted you didn't mind they changed the number two to a female,” she pointed out, “Explained how she was always a she in the earlier editions.”

“Some bits I will admit they did well, y'know?” Cyclone admitted, and she did want to like the movie, “That Number two was a good actress too! Chestnut Magnifico is awesome, but come on...” she found herself getting angry again, “It was the Nightmare Child! Batmare doesn't kill the Jester in the first ten minutes!”

“Uugh…” Bluefeather absolutely did not try to hide her annoyance at this point. She wasn’t here for this. “What if that was just a rouse for the next instalment?”

“Oh my God!” Cyclone came to a halt in the middle of the mall’s ground floor, making several shoppers have to walk around her. Her eyes were very suddenly wide open. “I forgot about that! In Issue seventeen of the Galaxy Wars the Nightmare Child returned more powerful than ever to lead the Horde of Travesties!”

Although she didn't know that, and she had no desire to be schooled on the subject, Bluefeather nonetheless still whapped Cyclone upside her head. Not necessarily playfully, either. “Duh.”

“Ow!” Cyclone, who was getting lost in the possibilities of future movies, giggled like an idiot. “I can't wait for the next one! I hope they make the next one! They need to make the next one now!”

“Maybe with more shuriken and less grenades...” added Bluefeather slyly.

Cyclone snickered, “Did I get too carried away again?”

“Brat.”

“Guilty as charged,” Cyclone didn’t even try to argue the fact. Instead, she looked over the mall to their next destination. “Guess I'm in need of punishing, huh?”

Casually, Bluefeather waved her hand towards the pinkest pink store front that was ever likely to exist, “We shall choose your form of punishment.” Crossing the mall and entering the store, Bluefeather went straight up to the counter, “Hello,” she greeted the tall young man who was staffing the register.

The young man, who according to his nametag was called Binder, greeted his two latest customers with a practised smile, recited, “Welcome to MiAC. Can I help you?”

“Me and my girlfriend are a bit new to all of this,” explained Bluefeather, who was surprised at how not embarrassed she was to be where she was. She pointed to her girlfriend in the wheelchair, “And she's a brat and I need to put her in her place.”

“Oh?” when Binder smiled this time it was a genuine 'not work', but a real smile. “And where's her place usually, miss? Under you, or on top of you?”

“Under me,” Bluefeather spoke like Cyclone wasn’t there at all, “As you can see, there are limitations as to what we can do together.”

“I do see. And when your brat is under you, do you sit on her?” asked Binder with warm inquisitive smile that reached his eyes, “I don't need all the details miss, don't worry, I’m just getting an idea of what you’d like to buy today.”

Thoughtfully, Bluefeather nodded. “But her tongue can only reach so far. Is there a gag that doesn't stick down her throat, but upwards instead?”

Binder had the very thing his customer needed. “We have just the thing, miss. Down the third aisle on your left. They come in three sizes and a variety of colours, perfect for reminding a brat of her place.”

“Do you have any literature?” asked Bluefeather, “I'm really new to this, and she doesn't have any experience either.”

“Of course, miss,” Binder was quick to suggest the books in question. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked about that. “The first aisle, you'll find all the books. I recommend Binding for Beginners if you're thinking about restraints, or the Voyeur in You, if you're an exhibitionist. Failing that, there are the general BDSM guides starting at volume one, or you can pick up the Dom / Sub, S & M book if you want to specialise your play.”

“Other than my hand,” Bluefeather showed off her right hand, “Which I do have experience with, what is a good starter tool for spanking?”

“We have an extensive range of paddles for you to choose from,” the shop assistant saw Cyclone open her mouth to say something, but he carried straight on before she could speak, “We also have some wooden hairbrushes. Good for starter players.”

A wide smile split Bluefeather’s face, “Thank you for being so helpful!”

“Any time, Miss. Just holler if you need anything.”

Before Bluefeather left the counter, she at last turned to Cyclone like she was remembering she was there at all. “Anything to add, Brat?”

“No ma'am.”

“Oh, by the way,” added Binder, “If you want a cute tag for that collar, 'Brat' is quite popular. Second aisle, halfway down on the right.”

Laughing, Bluefeather gave her submissive girlfriend a ‘follow me’ motion with her finger as she headed for the books first. Eagerly, Cyclone wheeled herself after her, feeling rather horny after all that. “I see someone's getting into their role,” to that, Bluefeather glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow, making her shiver, “I like it, Mistress.”

“Help me look for what may interest you,” said Bluefeather after she had affectionately cupped Cyclone’s cheek, “These two. Intro to Top and Intro to Bottom.”

“Yes Ma'am, we should get these, one for you, one for me.”

“I see they have an intro to Adult Baby Diaper Lover...are we ready for that?”

“Well,” Cyclone looked apprehensive, “We can get it, at least. We can't read it if we don't have it, right?”

Nodding her head, Bluefeather added the book to their basket. “I'm really not comfortable with using ropes, Cy.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone was glad Bluefeather had said that, because she felt the same, “I don't fancy them either. I guess the cuffs are okay, they're padded and safe. These ones are buckled instead of using keys. I like that.”

“Check, cuffs!” with a giggle, Bluefeather added the set of four to the basket. “A lot of these books look pretty advanced.” She then pointed to something that had caught her eye, “This is exactly what I wanted. The guy at the counter was really helpful.” She picked up a dildo that looked like a mouth guard with cock attached. “Not a lot of colour choices though.”

Cyclone noted there was only black, white and the primary colours to choose from. “You should go for the blue one. It'll match those cute blue freckles on your br...” at a ‘look’ from Bluefeather, she changed her tone, “On you, Mistress.”

That made Bluefeather chuckle, “Good save, Brat. Blue one it is. Now for something to correct that brattishness of yours.”

“To the paddles!” when they were there at the right aisle, Cyclone was open mouthed at the vast selection of crops, floggers, paddles and other instruments of correction that were on sale.

Drawn to one in particular, Bluefeather selected a black paddle with a heart cut out. “You may pick one also.” Cyclone chose a blue one with a star cut out. Taking it, Bluefeather added both paddles to the basket. “Okay. Now to just look around.”

“Hey, look at these, Mistress,” Cyclone pointed out a vast selection of nipple clamps next to a tray of differently sized ear clamps.

Apprehensively, Bluefeather looked at the clamps and shuddered, “Those look like they would hurt, Cy.”

“At least I'd feel the clamps though.”

“That is true.” Bluefeather conceded the point and she added the nipple clamps and for good measure, she threw in a set of the ear clamps as well. Then, she turned down the clothing aisle and Bluefeather just stopped and looked almost in awe at the sight that greeted her.

Behind her, Cyclone, who was looking at something else, almost rolled into the back of Bluefeather’s knees. “What, what you seen, Mistress?”

“That. Is. Majestic…” Bluefeather pointed to a black leather dominatrix outfit. “That is calling out to me.”

“Yeah, it's calling to me too, saying Blue would look awesome in that!”

“It’s a good thing that outfit can call me 'Blue' then, isn’t it?” Bluefeather spared Cyclone a rather imperious arched eyebrow look before she gathered up the outfit and she walked down the aisle, though she slowed considerably when she came to a bright pink maid’s outfit.

“That…” Cyclone stopped alongside her dominant girlfriend and looked where she was looking, “Is very pink, Mistress, and it's frilly and lacey and…pink.”

Carefully, Bluefeather looked it over, casting her critical eye over the garment on the rail, “Yes, it is very pink. Would you like to wear it, Brat?”

“It would be extremely humiliating, Mistress,” all that being said, Cyclone still nodded her head. Being made to wear such a thing, she couldn’t imagine herself being much of a brat, but she could see herself blushing with embarrassment. And that turned her on a lot.

Smiling, Bluefeather didn’t say anything, she just added the outfit to the basket. “Now, to the check out.”

Chapter 6 - MiAC

When Bluefeather and Cyclone entered the large house following the shopping trip to the mall, Monsoon was sat in the kitchen nursing a freshly made coffee. She took a look at the receipt that she was given and raised an eyebrow. “I will need to inspect the merchandise first, you understand.”

Retrieving the two bags from Cyclone’s lap, Bluefeather giggled, “Of course!” she promptly set the bags down on the table.

“What do you think, mom? They're the best 'therapy aids' I've ever seen!” Cyclone snickered at her own little joke and, devoid of the shopping bags, she wheeled over to the fridge and helped herself to a chilled water.

Casually, Monsoon lifted the contents out and inspected each item, placed it back, until she got to the paddles. Then, she paused, weighing them in her hands. They took her right back to her sorority initiation. “You need to be careful using these paddles above the waist, Blue.”

“Oh, ah…” Bluefeather’s grey cheeks took on a red tinge as they flushed, “Well, mostly they are for sound…” she crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at Monsoon.

“I remember someone looking at my breasts too while she was picking out the paddle,” added Cyclone, who was pleased to see her girlfriend’s blush deepen but at the same time she looked proud.

Nodding her head thoughtfully, Monsoon reached for her phone and fired off a quick text message. She read the equally quick reply before she spoke again, “Just a moment. The paddle is a bit too much surface area for the breast.” A sly look crept over her face, “Especially Cy’s breasts.”

Pouting at the dig at her tiny little mounds, Cyclone asked, “Should we have gotten a crop or something else?”

Monsoon knew from her inspection that there was no crop in the bag, just the two paddles, one with a star cut out and one with a heart cut out. She sat there nursing her coffee and she smiled a smug smile. A moment later, her husband walked in twirling a black crop like he was a sergeant major on parade. “Did someone order a cropping, my love?”

“Not me, silly,” shaking her head, Monsoon pointed to the two teenagers, “They didn't quite get all the right items.”

While Tropical Storm was nosing into the shopping bags, Cyclone noticed that Bluefeather’s blush was starting to look very uncomfortable and awkward. Well, as a good pet, and a better girlfriend, she wasn't having that. “I was obviously too much of a brat to let my Mistress shop properly,” she stated as she sipped at her water. “Hey, dad.”

“Nice outfits, by the way, girls,” Tropical Storm had found the dominatrix outfit and the maid’s dress. He approved greatly. Smirking, he added the crop to the paddle bag, everything but the two outfits were in that bag.

“The outfits are cool, right? Laugh at my maid dress and there'll be trouble,” Cyclone passed Bluefeather a bottle of water. She knew if she didn’t want it, the act of drinking would distract her from her awkward blush. “We got some other sweet stuff too, didn't we babes?”

Though she was still blushing, Bluefeather nodded, “Thank you for the crop. I'm sure the brat will earn that.”

“While you're dressed all in leather?” asked Tropical Storm, to which Bluefeather nodded earnestly.

“Yeah, thanks dad,” Cyclone rolled her eyes at the overgrown child that was her father, not that she’d ever change him for anything. “Mistress,” she had a more pressing thing on her mind than her dad, anyway, “Do you uh, you wanna head on upstairs, try out some of the new stuff we got?”

“Did you buy lube?”

Eagerly this time, Bluefeather nodded. “Yes sir, we have that covered,” she giggled, casting her mind back to the lube she had used earlier when she had fisted Cyclone like a glove puppet, “Get it, covered?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cyclone shifted uncomfortably on the seat of her wheelchair, “We're well covered for lube, dad.”

“Have fun, you two.”

Taking his wife’s hand in his, Tropical Storm grinned, “Yes, do enjoy yourselves. As loudly as you like…eeek!” he loudly squealed himself, because right then, Monsoon had tweaked his ear, hard.

“Oh, hey dad,” Cyclone said after she had stopped sniggering, “You know that director guy friend of yours, Canter Zoom? Next time you see him, tell him Exploding Ninja Pirates 4 sucked. Hard. Like, ultra-sucked.”

Recovering from her blushes, Bluefeather laughed, “It’s all because they used a battleship instead of a galleon. I talked her off the cliff for the other reason she thought it sucked.”

“I can tell him,” replied Tropical Storm, who was rubbing his hurt ear, “But he'll just point to the box office receipts and compare that to what the comic shops take in, just like he does with the Daring Do movies.”

“You know, if he needs a continuity and accuracy consultant - and he really does need one – I’m happy to volunteer... eeek!” Cyclone never got to finish her sentence because right at that moment, Bluefeather had tweaked her ear in a very good imitation of Monsoon.

“Upstairs, brat, now.” Bluefeather kept a firm grip on her girlfriend’s left ear, “I'm sure you'd rather see the next movie in your lifetime, and not in twenty years with your 'help'.”

“Ooow! Ow!” Cyclone yelped while Bluefeather used her tweaked ear to steer her towards the stair lift, at the same time she dumped the two pink bags back in her lap. “Okay, okay I'm going Mistress!” she wheeled herself quickly to the lift to convince Bluefeather to let go. Cyclone was more than happy to play the pack mule and carry the purchases, but when they were upstairs, she became all serious, a rarity for her. “Hey, time out for a sec, Blue. Are you okay?”

When she was in Cyclone’s bedroom, Bluefeather looked back to be sure they hadn't been followed and she kept her voice low. “I'm okay with your mom pawing through our stuff, but it is so embarrassing when your dad does. You know, like finding out he folded your underwear in the laundry!”

“I saw you blushing up a storm down there,” explained Cyclone as she set the bags down on her bed, “I figured you could use a bratty distraction.” she chuckled, “I do know what you mean though, about dad.”

Smiling, Bluefeather bent down for a long, deep and very overdue kiss, “You're a very pleasant distraction, brat.”

“Always, Mistress!” Cyclone enthusiastically returned the kiss with a lot of tongue, not that Bluefeather minded the sloppy smooch at all.

“At least that embarrassment is over,” stated Bluefeather with a shake of her shoulders like she was shrugging off the various stresses of the day. Then, she walked over to the door and closed it, sealing them inside. “I'd like to start fisting you again, brat.”

As it happened, that was what Cyclone wanted too. “I'd like you to start fisting me again, Mistress!”

As much as Bluefeather wanted to throw her sexy brat on the bed and get on with it, there were things she had to attend to as a good dom. “Do you need to use the bathroom first?”

“Uuuh...yeah, actually, I do, it's been a few hours.” While Cyclone took herself off to the adjacent bathroom, Bluefeather busied herself with emptying out the bags and putting the crop and mouth-dildo on the dresser. The outfits and paddles went inside the dresser. That done, she got out the lube from a drawer and put that on top the dresser. When Cyclone emerged from the bathroom, she was dressed in just the pink onesie. “Ready!”

“Up onto the bed with you, so I can have my way!” Bluefeather turned dramatically and she rubbed hands together along with a silly cackle that came straight from one of Cyclone’s comics.

“Yes Mistress,” although Cyclone had to really, really fight to not laugh, she didn’t, because that would have spoiled the mood. She got herself up onto the bed and laid with her useless legs apart, “B-Be merciful, Mistress, please?”

“Nah, I'm drilling for oil!” Bluefeather leapt up onto the bed where she swiftly and deftly removed the pink onesie her brat was wearing, leaving her naked but for the grey collar, “And you look like a fertile field.”

After that terribly cheesy line, Cyclone’s body was rocking with barely supressed laughter. “Oh yes,” she snickered, “Very fertile, Mistress.”

Rolling her eyes, Bluefeather coated her hand in a very liberal helping of the lube before she replaced it on the dresser. “I wonder if I should tie a rope to myself in case I fall in, or maybe just lead with a flashlight?”

“You could always send a canary in first...” Cyclone chose not to finish her retort and she simply blushed, “I mean, Mistress.”

With her left hand glistening and dripping wet with the applied lubricant, Bluefeather turned a smile and raised an eyebrow to her brat, “Not going to give anyone else the pleasure.”

On her back, Cyclone’s blush deepened at her bratty mouthed come back, “I'm sorry Mistress.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” promised Bluefeather as she gently worked her slickened fingers into her girlfriend's vagina along with lots of entirely necessary wiggling of her hand to spread the lube around.

Watching the hand disappear inside her, Cyclone let out a little squeak, knowing what was going to come. When Bluefeather reached deeper inside her brat, she paused once the last of her knuckles disappeared inside. Then, she wiggled her fingers for her own benefit inside her wet muscular tunnel. “You're nice and tight and warm, my love…”

“Must be all that exercising keeping me tight for you, Mistress.”

“I’m glad that machine is helping you out,” commented Bluefeather, who knew from the position and the depth of her forearm that she was close to her target. She pushed in just a bit more and without warning, she flick out a forefinger.

“AaaaAAHHNNN!!” as soon as that finger made contact with her, Cyclone let out the loud moan as a large amount of her juices leak out around Bluefeather's forearm. “YEEESSS!!”

Now she was where she wanted to be, Bluefeather kept up what she was doing, alternating pumping her arm in and out and tapping her cervical wall on the ‘down’ thrusts. By the time she had experienced her second climax, the athlete was reduced to a panting drooling mess squirting all over her Mistress’s arm, moaning 'fuck' over and over again.

“It looks like I've survived the tunnel of doom!” Bluefeather giggled as she slowly pulled her arm out of its new favourite resting place, “Now it is my turn to mount your face.”

Lost riding the high of her two climaxes, Cyclone couldn’t laugh any longer or harder than she did then, “That is so damn cheesy babes!”

“At last I made you really laugh,” Bluefeather said in a satisfied tone as she rubbed her wet hand over the business end of the mouth-dildo. “Oh!” a realisation hit her, “Damn! I need to soak your end in some warm water so it will better mould to your mouth. Don't run off!” slipping from the bed, she ran to the bathroom.

“I'll try not to!” Cyclone laughed and she put on a deadpan voice, “Oh no, I'm escaping, so very fast,” even though she hadn't moved a single muscle. The next thing she heard was running water from the sink. That just made her want to pee, so she looked up at the ceiling and tried to distract herself.

About three minutes later, Bluefeather came back out with the prepped dildo in her hand. “Ah, good, you didn't run off. I know how you sprinters can be,” at the bed, she held the mouthpiece over Cyclone’s face. “It’s warm, but not silly hot. Just bite down so it moulds to you.”

“Yes Mistress,” Cyclone opened her mouth and once the end was inserted, she bit down on the mouth end hard. While she was doing that, Bluefeather kissed and nibbled her way all around her brat’s face. “MMmm hhhhmmm!” the black skinned submissive let out lots of muffled moans, especially when her Mistress got to her ears.

When she decided she had teased her pet enough, Bluefeather whispered in an ear, “Time to meet my needs…” she checked the straps on the dildo were secure around Cyclone’s head before she climbed up onto the bed and, facing the head of it, she slid down onto the dildo. She was able to lean back just a bit and look past her breasts into Cyclone's blue eyes. “I'm so going to make a mess all over your face.”

Cyclone blushed hard, but as she was jet black, only Bluefeather could tell by the look on her face. It was highly embarrassing being 'used' like that but at the same time it was also very hot, watching her Mistress slide herself up and down the seven inch long watching her fuck herself so close to her face.

At first, scared of hurting her girlfriend’s face, Bluefeather didn't bottom out on the dildo, but as she steadily grew more and more aroused, she started move faster and more assuredly. Before long, she was tapping Cyclone's lips with her lips and she was using her nose to rub her clit.

Under Bluefeather, looking up at her dripping wet shaved pussy stretched around the dildo gag, Cyclone was left thinking this was the single hottest thing she had ever been a part of or experienced, ever. As Bluefeather got close to cumming, she started to rub her own clitoris and her moanings picked up in volume.

Through it all though, she never once broke eye contact with her sub.

For her part, Cyclone couldn’t look away even if she had wanted to. She kept her eyes open like she was daring Bluefeather to squirt on her.

Predictably, after just a few deep thrusts, Bluefeather came, squirting her juices all over Cyclone's face as she was bouncing just a couple of inches up and down as she rubbed away at herself with ferocity. Cyclone let out a pleasured moan as she was covered in her Mistress's fluids. Bluefeather continued to ride the toy and rub herself till she neared her next climax, then she just dropped down all the way to press her pussy right up against her pet's mouth and nose.

When Bluefeather came the second time, Cyclone was barely able to take a breath through her nose before her face was again flooded by her ejaculate. Sweet sticky cum squirted up her nose and then suddenly breathing became an issue.

“Let go.” She ordered and no sooner had Cyclone obeyed, releasing her bite on the end in her mouth, than Bluefeather reached down, unbuckled the strap and, clenching down and, she lifted a bit before she rolled off to the side. “That was a lot better than I first thought it would be.”

“Tha...” Cyclone coughed and snorted a large cum bubble out of her nose, “That was so hot babes!”

Smirking, Bluefeather opened her toned legs. “Hotter is you cleaning the business end of that,” she motioned between her legs where the mouthpiece was still deep inside her sopping wet vagina.

“I'd be happy to, Mistress!” Cyclone moved her hand to remove the toy from her girlfriend’s depths like a knight removing the sword from the stone, albeit a very lewd sword from an extremely wet stone.

“I think I can do a bit of clean up too,” Bluefeather started again with alternating the kisses and nibbles around Cyclone's face, making her pet giggle at how she was being cleaned. Just to be a teeny bit naughty, Cyclone 'accidently' rubbed the toy all over her Mistress's cheek as she was licking it clean, however she failed to see the naughty as she wasn't fazed by that in the slightest.

When the toy and Cyclone’s face were equally clean, Bluefeather moved up so she could lay alongside her on the bed. “That was proper fun, my bratty pet. How well did you hold up to that? In the end I was in sheer bliss, and I am so very proud of you.”

~ ~ ~

Two months later, and as summer was switching to autumn, the sun still warm and the breeze still welcome, Cyclone pulled up outside of Bluefeather’s house in her sky blue minivan. Sat in the driver’s seat, she was wearing a nappy underneath a pink onesie and a cream dress combo, her ensemble topped off as ever by her grey collar around her neck.

Engine killed, she wheeled herself out of the van and up the neatly preserved path past the well mown lawn to the door of the large four bedroom red bricked townhouse, where she rang the bell.

A pale blue skinned woman, pleasantly chubby in her mid-forties with her white grey hair up in a bun / ponytail combination, answered the door. Wind Sprint, Bluefeather’s mother, wore her years like Cyclone wore her onesie. Unapologetically. “Hi, Cyclone. Blue is up in her room. Do you want to come in, or should I get her?”

“Hey Ms Sprint, how's it today?” Cyclone greeted her second mom with an easy smile. It was easy to smile around Wind Sprint. She was one of those cheery people. “If you gimme a hand getting me over the step, I'll come in for a moment if it's no trouble?”

“I could,” Wind Sprint smiled and pointed along the path that ran around the back of the house, “Or you can wheel your way in through the patio door.” She stepped out as she said that, happy to walk around with her.

“Patio door it is! Thanks Ms Sprint!” Cyclone promptly wheeled herself along the walk that led to the back, through an unlocked fence gate to the rear patio door. There was only a tiny hump, which she negotiated easily enough. In the back yard, she was greeted by Bluefeather’s two brothers, younger than her by six years, playing football.

Rousted by her mom, Bluefeather was there ready to great her as her brothers both waved at the visitor. “Hi Cy,” she beamed a wide smile, “Did you get dropped off?”

“Hey sexy!” Cyclone waved back to the two boys and took a moment to admire her girlfriend and Mistress’s blue jean shorts and white tee shirt. She made them look damn good. “Nopes, today I drove myself all the way here! Aren't I amazing?”

“Oh, I see,” Bluefeather led the way through the townhouse to her bedroom, “You going to drive me around so we can make out on the back seat?”

“That's the plan, your cho-four at your whim, Mistress!” Cyclone deliberately said chauffer wrong on purpose, she wasn't the brightest sub in the world, and languages was one of the things she struggled with.

“Now you have four wheels under two, you can be my go-four,” grinned Bluefeather as she sat on her bed, “And I have so many whims!”

“Any time babes! So what's the plan, you wanna go do something now I have my license? Ha, Old Cranky's face at the school parking lot when I passed my test, thought he was gonna explode!”

Bluefeather laughed at that, because almost nobody actually liked the dour mean old teacher, “I'm sure he wasn't going to explode that you passed, only that you took something serious for once.” She finished her point by directing a knowing finger at Cyclone.

“Alright, well I guess you called me out on that one,” conceded Cyclone with her usual good grace, “But hey, you gotta give me credit, since school’s starting again soon, I've been serious. A bit.”

Bluefeather swapped her accusatory finger for a loving kiss, “You can be when it really matters, but I do love your care free fun side. Other than making out in the back, what would you like to do?”

“I guess having a life changing thing happen to you changes you,” Cyclone smiled and she gave her girlfriend a kiss of her own, “I'd like to drive my Mistress to a park of her choice, make out with her and do whatever else she might want.”

Looking out of her window, Bluefeather saw the sun shining through the trees on the street and she made her mind up. “It is a beautiful day, and walking and playing in Central Park would be nice. We can get some unhealthy street food while we're there. But making out is either up Canter peak, or under the viaduct for the Friendship Express.”

There was no option for that in Cyclone’s mind. “It has to be Make Out Mountain, Mistress. We can be super naughty and there's an awesome view!”

Smiling, Bluefeather’s eyes wandered down her submissive’s body from her face to her crotch, her smile widening all the time, “Yes that valley is an awesome view,” she winked suggestively at her.

“You can admire the valley while plundering my valley, Mistress.”

Giggling at the crudity of her girlfriend’s remark, Bluefeather wandered over and wrapped her in a hug. “Such delightful poetry is not likely to make me swoon, but it was still a good effort. Let me change into a nice light summer dress, if we’re going out.” She did so in front of Cyclone, stripping down from her jean shorts and tee shirt to her lacy black thong panties and a matching lacy black bra before putting on a long white dress that was sheer enough to see her underwear through it.

“Oh...oooooh my god I'll never get tired of you doing that...” Cyclone was of course openly staring at her Mistress all through the clothing change, licking her lips when she bent over and slipped on a pair of open toed sandals. “Oh hey, if you want poetry, I got a good one about a girl from Nantucket…”

Now dressed, Bluefeather snorted out a laugh as she tied up her hair into a pony tail, “Limericks are your bread and butter. I believe I shall allow my crude but sexy Cho-four to escort me out.”

“It’s my dad's fault!” Cyclone laughed and turned her chair to face the bedroom door. Most of her more obnoxious bratty traits came from her dad, and she loved him for it. “May I carry a bag for you, Mistress?”

Murmuring appreciatively, Bluefeather placed a small clutch purse on her submissive's lap. “I shall entrust you with my possessions.”

As they made their way out of the house, Wind Sprint intercepted the two teenagers like a middle aged ninja, albeit one who was busy with a crossword puzzle and a large mug of coffee with her feet up on a plush footstool. “Where are you off to, and will you be back for dinner?”

“I have the privilege of driving my Mistress to Central Park and then to Make Out Mountain, Ms Sprint,” Cyclone answered without a trace of shame whatsoever, “We should be back for dinner, ma'am.”

Wind Sprint finally looked up from her puzzle, her reading glasses low on her nose and her pen pointed like it was a loaded rifle, “If you get her pregnant, young lady, my husband has a shotgun.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, Bluefeather instead rolled her eyes at her mother, “Later mom.”

Predictably, Cyclone showed no such restraint, and she giggled on the way out, in fact she was still laughing mirthfully all the way to the minivan. “I like your mom,” she said as she remotely unlocked the doors, “She's fun, even for a vanilla.”

“I've never seen this shotgun either,” smirked Bluefeather as she took a look at the new layout for the van’s interior. The driver’s side had been altered to allow Cyclone to drive it. “Explain to me how it all works.”

“Um...” Cyclone’s smile vanished like one of her math grades as she struggled to remember what she was taught. Her usual comeback was to say 'many clever things' but she really wanted to give Bluefeather a proper answer this time. Fortunately, Bluefeather was patient while she watched her girlfriend show her by demonstration what things did.

“So that's that!” Cyclone smiled a little too widely once she was done, “I was paying attention to what dad and the man told me, honest!” and she had been. She knew what the things in the van did, she just didn’t know why, just that it did.

Rather condescendingly – ironic, as Cyclone could never hope to spell that - Bluefeather patted her submissive’s hand, “I'm depending on that, but you did make it here in one piece. Now,” she said as she buckled herself into the passenger seat, “Take me away in your cruising ship, brat.”

“Your wish is my command, Mistress!” Cyclone, who had showed how her chair strapped into the driver’s seat, and how she operated all the controls, was ready to go. “Where to, M’lady?" she asked in her best ‘Parker’ imitation.

“Take me higher and draw me closer, and pull me deeper than I've ever been.”

“Very good, M’lady,” Cyclone couldn’t help but snicker at her purposefully awful impression and she pulled out into the few cars that accounted for the traffic. It was still morning, after all. “Hey uh, Blue,” she asked, for the moment breaking character, “Did you by chance happen to do Ms Adagio's history homework yet?”

“I did,” Bluefeather kept her tone even, and her eyes facing forwards. She knew from long experience what was coming next, but there was no need to make it easy. “In modern and in ancient equestrian for extra credit too.”

While Cyclone loved her girlfriend, and she did love her, right then she rather hated the smugness in her voice. Mostly because she hadn’t done it, and she knew Bluefeather knew that, too. “I um…I don’t suppose you’d let me have a sneaky look at what you done, y'know, to uh, compare essays...”

“You are so transparent, Cy,” Bluefeather remarked, though not unkindly. “Don't copy it word for word, but get the facts down. She'll know if it doesn't sound like you.” There was no fooling Adagio Dazzle, they had learned that in their first lesson back at school. The woman had a mind like a steel trap, and she could smell when a student was trying to hokey doke her.

“It's so not my fault!” Cyclone protested as she drove along, “Who even knows about the fall of Rome!? I didn't even know they were in trouble!”

“Well it did happen a few years ago, Cy.”

“How many is a few, like, more than ten?”

“Maybe more than two thousand.”

“Ugh!” Cyclone grunted in frustration, “I am so stupid sometimes...”

Bluefeather laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. She knew how sensitive Cyclone was about her perceived dumbness. She also knew she wasn’t dumb. When she was approached the right way, she was actually quite intelligent. “I don't date stupid people, so you're safe. Maybe you’re just more unaware of things that don't affect you in the here and now.”

“Yeah, let's go with that,” Cyclone giggled, “Least I'm not panting after the hot history teacher like half the class.”

“She is one thicc lady though,” commented Bluefeather, who could readily understand why half the class was panting after Adagio. “Then there was the day she wore that short skirt but didn't wear panties. Too bad there’s a no cell phone policy in class.”

Cyclone figured that very policy saved the history teacher from a blizzard of photo flashes. “Oh, believe me, I did notice,” she admitted shamelessly. “I also noted the yellow and pink choker she wears like a collar with the handcuffs clasp at the front. I reckon the no panties thing was an order she was following, y’know?”

“Well if it was, it was daring,” commented Bluefeather, who found it remarkable that Cyclone, who thought she was dumb, noticed that of all things. “I'm daring enough wearing this dress. Still, she is sharp, so don't copy me word for word.”

“Yes ma'am, no copying, ma’am!” Cyclone snickered, “I gotta admit, I find her scary, like creepy scary. The way she talks about history it's like she's actually lived through it, y'know?”

Bluefeather was quick to laugh that off. “Yeah, right, Cy. She's just very well read and good at what she knows. Her memory is what's scary.”

In Cyclone’s opinion, it was Adagio Dazzle’s wide ass and the way she sashayed her way up and down the class that made her scary, but she - wisely – chose not to voice that opinion. “Yeah, you're right, babes. There's no way she's that old.” she drove a little further, “We're here, Central Park. Wonder why they called it that?”

“Maybe because it’s in the centre of the old city?” offered Bluefeather with a playful snicker in her voice, “Thank you for the ride, my sexy brat, and your driving is really good, by the way. I don't know if I could drive with just my hands.”

“That’s because I'm awesome with my hands!” replied Cyclone with a proud smile, a snicker and a wiggle of her fingers in the air that left nothing to the imagination. “Let me get your door, Mistress.” More than happy to wait for Cyclone to exit and open her door, Bluefeather gracefully disembarked. “There we go! Where shall we head to first, Mistress?”

“Hmm…” Bluefeather thought about it for a moment with a finger on her chin, “It’s a bit early to get wet, so we’ll go to the adult playground next to the kiddie one. We can take turns on the swings.”

“Swings it is, as long as we don't swing too high.” They made their way through the park to the playground, where they spent about thirty minutes in the adult play area. Cyclone was able to get on a swing by herself, and using her chair, she could push herself, switching sides as it was a good one arm work out.

Helpfully, Bluefeather carried her up to the top of the large slide built into the side of a small hill. Cyclone liked that, as it didn’t seem too high up, not like the one that had its own ladder.

Seeing as she was being very, very brave, Cyclone went down the slide three times! On the third time down, she saw a girl she recognised from CHS. The new student, a tall light brown skinned girl with an unruly mop of white hair, walked through the area like she owned it in her natty ripped jeans, worn leather jacket, smoking as she went. “Hey, hey Blue, it's that new kid, the griffon?” before Bluefeather could answer her, Cyclone waved, “Hey! Gilda! Gilda, over here!”

Pausing in mid stride and blowing out a lungful of smoke, Gilda spared Cyclone a look like she had just stepped in something unpleasant and her heavy boot was soiled as a result. “Fuck off, dweeb,” she snorted.

“You're too late,” shot back Bluefeather, who protectively wrapped her arms around her handicapped girlfriend’s shoulders, just in case, “She already taken.”

“Gilda!” when Cyclone called her again, Gilda casually flipped her off and, middle finger still raised like she was saluting her, the griffon turned her back and walked away without another word. “Huh,” Cyclone hmphed, “How'd you like that?”

“Griffon bitch,” Bluefeather scoffed at the back of the tall muscular well-built tough girl, “I don't like it at all, so she can go fuck herself back to Griffonstone.”

As soon as she heard that, Cyclone burst out laughing, and she guffawed out loud. “I don't think I've ever heard you curse except when you're sat on my face.”

Noncommittally, Bluefeather shrugged, happy to see the back of the surly girl. “Most people don't piss me off. Shouldn't she be on some street corner under a red light?”

“I was thinking she got lost on the way to West Side Story,” commented Cyclone with a shrug equal to her girlfriend’s. “Oh well. Her loss, I guess. You want to get something to eat?”

“Let's play in the water jets and then we can go and dry off with some food at one of the tables.” Bluefeather leant in close to Cyclone’s ear, “I'm sure you'd love to see this dress get all wet.”

“Yes Mistress, I most certainly would, Mistress!” as if Cyclone was going to say no to that. The square area not too far away from the playground had a number of water jets arranged in a pattern that shoot up at timed intervals. There were a few adults and number of kids running around the area squealing and laughing. “I'm so getting in on this!”

Just as carefree as her wheelchair bound lover, Bluefeather skilfully used her feet to send the spray of cold water up at an angle to ensure that Cyclone's chair didn't keep her dry from the spray. All too soon, her white dress was quite transparent and her black lacy underwear was on full display as was her grey skin.

After a few more moments of playing in the water, Cyclone's dress and her onesie were just as wet as her Mistress's dress, but nowhere near as see through. She was a laughing mess though, having had a blast in the water. “Foot longs and cheesy fries sound good?” asked Bluefeather as she wiped her wet hair out of her face.

“Yeah they do!” exclaimed Cyclone eagerly, uncaring of her messy turquoise hair hanging in strands over her face, “I am starved!”

Another benefit of the dousing in the cool water did have another welcome effect, namely that of Bluefeather’s nipples being extra 'perky' under her bra and soaked dress. In no time at all, the two made it to a food stand at the edge of the park. “Half smoke with kraut and mustard and some cheesy fries, please.”

“Make that two, dude!” added Cyclone quickly, who was suddenly very hungry.

The server, a pleasant looking young man, smiled at both his new customers. He never got tired of serving hot wet young girls. That was why he put his food truck where it was. “You got it, miss,” he chuckled, “You two look like you need a towel.”

Usually shy of her body, Bluefeather instead practically flaunted herself. “Gotta enjoy what’s left of the weather while we can, right?”

“You're quite right, miss,” he quickly got the two orders together, as well as the two cokes Cyclone asked for. As much as he wanted to stare at them all day, there were other customers. “Eight bits. Who gets the bad news?”

“Money bags here,” Bluefeather pointed to Cyclone, “She’s too loaded to even walk. Besides, I have no pockets.”

“I got it sir,” Cyclone quickly fished out a ten bit note from her purse and passed it over to him. “Keep the two, my man.”

Hot food in hand, Bluefeather pointed to a nearby empty table, “We can go dry off over there.”

“You got it, Mistress,” Cyclone, guided by her empty rumbling belly, quickly followed Bluefeather over to the table like an obedient puppy. “Yeah,” she sighed happily under the dappled shade of the overhanging tree, “This Fall sun's a bit nice, huh?”

Passing out the food, Bluefeather nodded, “I can't imagine doing this in a couple of months. Good thing your van will stay warm all winter long.”

“Can’t beat climate control,” Cyclone laughed thickly around the sandwich in her mouth, trying to eat and speak at the same time, “I'll need tank tracks on my chair when it snows.”

“Maybe just some knobbier tyres,” Bluefeather reposted, “The snow doesn't get that bad around here, we aren’t like Vanhoover, but the ice may turn your ride into a comedy routine.”

“Yeah but tracks would be cool, like some wheelchair ATV deal.”

“That's what the internet is for.”

“Nah, that'd be silly. Oh,” Cyclone struggled to swallow her sandwich after having taken a way too large bite, “I meant to tell you, guess who got her first second place in her race yesterday?”

“Hummm…” Bluefeather, by stark contrast to her girlfriend, was taking far more delicate bites of her food, “Is it anyone I know?”

“Me!” exclaimed Cyclone who was, as usual, completely and utterly oblivious to Bluefeather’s sarcasm, “You could have come and watched me, but you were doing some dull lesson or something, y’know, at school.”

“Yes,” Bluefeather arched her eyebrow, “Like taking notes or something. For a certain Ms Adagio’s history assignment,” she gave her submissive a kiss that was flavoured by her sandwich, “Is there another chair athlete?”

“Nah,” replied Cyclone after the kiss had been broken, “There was one, a girl called Blur, but she graduated last year. I remember she had an attitude not too far away from dearest Gilda.”

“That must be why I don't remember her on the team.”

“Yeah,” said Cyclone as she popped open her can of coke, “You wouldn’t. She had two legs before the Fall Formal.” when Bluefeather nodded, she continued, “Blur got hit by the falling masonry when the school facade collapsed. Had to have her right leg off to save her life.”

Bluefeather shuddered. Of course she remembered the Fall Formal. Everyone at CHS remembered the Fall Formal. “Maybe she didn't taking it as maturely as you are. I don't know what to say, but don't follow her example."

“Maybe she never had the support I've got,” suggested Cyclone as she washed down her sandwich with the coke, “I've only ever seen her mom, and most times she looks three sheets to the wind, y'know? I mean, I'm lucky. I got you, mom and dad. And that Requiem lady.”

“Keep an eye out,” warned Bluefeather cautiously, “Don't let people like that hurt you."

“I will. Oh, I gotta tell you about this little 'Little' girl. She's a senior,” Cyclone paused to empty her can and let out a rather loud and pronounced burp, “She's like three foot tall, but damn she runs like a stabbed rat!”

Like the young lady she was, Bluefeather chose to ignore the crass statement her girlfriend made, “Think she can outrun your chair?”

“Nearly!” exclaimed Cyclone, “We raced yesterday for fun, and it was a dead tie. You'd like her too; she's got a wicked sense of humour. She's got this boyfriend who's like, twice her size. Gilda called her on it and she said, ‘We're all the same height laid down’, it was awesome!”

“Really?” smirked Bluefeather, “I think I'm taller than you laid down.”

“Only cos my boobs don't exist,” Cyclone affected a very realistic fake pout.

“Actually I wear a larger sized shoe…”

“Yeah, I uh, I had noticed...” Cyclone’s pout disappeared fast as her eyes slid down her Mistress’s body to fully appreciate her perfectly pedicured feet in her perfect open toed sandals.

In a very good imitation of Miss Cheerilee, Bluefeather wagged her finger at her submissive girlfriend. “Not until we get to Make Out Mountain.”

“Fine,” Cyclone made a rather bratty whine, then she quickly apologised, “Sorry Mistress.”

“I love you, brat, and I'm ready to go.” Bluefeather finished off her sandwich as well as her coke at the same time Cyclone drained her can. The grey skinned teenager then looked down and checked herself out, “Back to translucent. Will you need a nappy change in the van?”

It was only when Bluefeather asked, did Cyclone realise she was wet in her nappy. And not from the water fountains. “Um...yeah...” she muttered, her good humour evaporating, “I uh, I thought it was the water. Sorry.”

Lovingly, Bluefeather reached over and squeezed her girlfriend’s hand, “It's fine, Cy.”

“I know, I know…” Cyclone let out a long, deep, sigh, “It's been a couple months since what happened, happened, now, I should be over this! I know it's nothing to be ashamed of, Requiem said it enough damn times!”

“I like Requiem,” stated Bluefeather kindly, but there was a firmness to her tone at the same time, “And you should listen to her. Then, you'll listen to me.”

“She says I'm making progress,” muttered a sullen Cyclone, “I'm not so sure sometimes.”

With an added roll of her eyes, Bluefeather gave Cyclone a – not very - light punch in the shoulder. “I'm sure,” she stated like there was no room for argument, “I can get all True Heart on you if you want.”

“Not a threat. You do it in a sexy way,” As soon as Cyclone said that, Bluefeather almost doubled over in gales of laughter, leaving Cyclone looking nonplussed. “Ha de ha, c'mon, let's get back to the van.” On the way back, Bluefeather got in the lead and she wiggled her toned shapely ass before she dropped back to walk along with her. “Now that's a view I can appreciate.”

“Lay out on the back seat and I'll change your nappy.” Said Bluefeather who was mindful to keep the soft kind tone, because she knew how uncomfortable her girlfriend was feeling.

“Alright, Mistress.” When they reached the van, Cyclone heaved herself out of her chair and she laid herself down. She then looked up at the roof of the vehicle and told herself she was being very silly. Didn’t stop how she felt though.

“Yeah,” confirmed Bluefeather after she had pulled up the onesie and unfastened the nappy to look inside, “That is more than fountain water in there.” Efficiently, she used a handy wipe to make sure that Cyclone was clean and she made sure she was dry before putting on a new, clean nappy.

“Thank you Mistress,” Cyclone found that in spite of her fears and anxiety, she had actually relaxed somewhat, she was definitely not as tense now the clean fresh nappy was on.

Without hesitation, Bluefeather swooped in and she delivered a deep kiss to her girlfriend’s lips. “I'm here for you, Cy. Now, let's get this chariot up the mountain.”

“You got it, Mistress.” Once she was back in the driver’s side of her minivan, dressed in a clean dry onesie and dress with Bluefeather beside her also in a dry clean dress – a foresight of theirs to pack spare clothing at all times just in case, Cyclone drove to the mountain.

“It's dumb,” Cyclone spoke up after a few moments where she steered the van in silence, “I know, being hung up on the nappy changing thing. I mean, we've been naked with each other tons of times, done stuff with each other tons of times...”

“How many times did True Heart change a dirty nappy for you?”

“Um...lots?” offered Cyclone after a moment of deep thought, a moment in which she couldn’t offer up a better answer.

“I’ve done two so far,” Bluefeather reached over to take Cyclone's hand for a moment, then she gave it an affectionate squeeze, “We're good, Cy.”

“Yeah,” she spared Bluefeather a quick smile back, “We're good, babes.” Bluefeather simply smiled brightly, content to sit and watch as Cyclone easily maneuvered the van back on to the main road. Her appraisal didn’t go unnoticed. “She doesn't handle too bad for a huge crate,” the athlete giggled as she drove along, “Took me a few attempts around the mall parking lot to get the hang of the van. She’s bigger than Cranky's instructor car.”

“I think you secretly want to be a soccer mom.”

That remark came so far out of left field for Cyclone that for a moment all she could do was drive. “If you get me pregnant,” she said at last, “My dad definitely won't come after you with a shotgun. A camera, maybe.”

“Not sure which is scarier, your dad with a camera, or mine with the shotgun.”

“Splattered over your front porch or splattered over the centrefold...tough one!”

Bluefeather couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculous comparison. “Our grandchild having to explain to the sitter why there is a naked picture framed in their bedroom.”

“Yeah, that'd be fun alright,” Cyclone snickered at the ludicrous scenario, picturing it playing out just like that. But, as she drove along, she found her thoughts lingering on being that soccer mom, driving the kid to games, watching, cheering them on when they won and consolidating when they lost.

It was a good little fantasy.

Naturally, Bluefeather noticed the contemplative look on Cyclone’s face. She also knew enough not to push when such a rare look came over her. She didn’t want to scare it away. She resolved to remain quiet until they neared the parking area as she looked out between the scenery and back at Cyclone. “You have a rather serious look about you, Cy,” she said at last.

“I was thinking…” Cyclone replied as she pulled up in the parking space a third of the way up Make Out Mountain. “I know, it’s not something I do a lot of...but...were you joking about the soccer mom thing?”

“Nope,” Bluefeather shook her head, “Nor was my mom joking about a shotgun. If one of us gets pregnant, we're getting married. I'd rather get married without the pressure.”

“You just got me thinking, that’s all, it'd be really cool, y'know? Driving him or her to a game, watching, cheering, all that cool mom stuff.”

“Taking us on tour.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone’s smile grew wider and wider, “I know, I'm eighteen, I shouldn't be planning away our whole lives like that, but now I'm thinking about it, having a kid would be cool.”

“I agree having a child would be cool,” said Bluefeather, who was choosing her words very carefully, “But maybe we can wait till after university. I'm good before grad school though, if either of us goes to that.”

“After university it is!” she fist bumped Bluefeather, which in her mind all but sealed the deal, then she looked out at the view of the city sprawling below them. “Damn that's something to look at, huh?”

“It certainly is,” agreed Bluefeather as she unclipped the seat belt from her, “But there are better things to look at in here…” she left that hanging in the air and she moved across the seats to Cyclone’s lap, where she not only kissed her but freely groped that non-existent chest she loved so much.

“Mmmm I have to agree with you, Mistress…” while Bluefeather was groping her, Cyclone returned the favour by slipping her hands up underneath Bluefeather's dress aiming for her black lacy bra.

In a rare display of exhibitionism, Bluefeather was more than happy to let the undressing go on right there in the front of the van. None of those windows were tinted in any way like the back ones, and an adventurous Cyclone had slipped her hands under the bra, flipping it up over Bluefeather's ample chest so she could gently play with her nipples.

To show her intense pleasure at that, Bluefeather gave out a soft sigh and she groped at Cyclone with a renewed vigour. When her onesie was unbuttoned down to her front, Cyclone moaned almost in tune with her lover's sigh and in the moment took hold of her dress to remove it.

Affectionately, Bluefeather nuzzled Cyclone's ear and, after a quick nip, she whispered, “Be gentle on the dress, but not on me.”

“Yes Mistress,” in no time at all, Cyclone had carefully removed the white dress and the black bra along with it. Then, after she had folded them neatly, she began to suck roughly on her lover’s breasts and nipples.

Bluefeather leant back and she ran her hands down Cyclone's sides, not tickling, but roaming free to feel up her athletic body. Cyclone moaned again, and she tentatively bit on the nipple of her Mistress’s left breast in her mouth. “Unlock the chair,” she ordered breathlessly, “I'm taking you to the back.”

Chapter 7 - Senior Year

That allowed Bluefeather to push the wheelchair away from the steering column so she could unbuckle Cyclone and lift her up. Then, she carried her to the back seat where she was able to finish undressing her. “I'm bottom and you can do as you please to make me cum, brat.”

Bluefeather then laid back across the seat and pulled her girlfriend on top of her. “Nice to be the one on top for a change,” smirked Cyclone as she crawled between her Mistress's legs and she stroked her hairless labia with her fingers, at the same time kissing up her inner thighs.

A very contented sigh left Bluefeather’s lips. Her girlfriend might be a brat, but she was a brat who was very skilled with her fingers. “I love all of you as you are right now…”

“I love you too Mistress,” murmured Cyclone as she slowly kissed her way up and over Bluefeather's hard throbbing clitoris and down her other thigh. Only when she was whimpering with her back arched up did she then move back to her pussy, and Cyclone dragged her tongue over her nub.

A very happy Bluefeather was laid back in utter bliss with her cute moans filling the van as Cyclone expertly worked her dripping wet sex. “Heh,” the athlete snickered, “And you said you can't sing...” she then wrapped her lips around her clit and slid two fingers inside her hot wet tunnel.

Naturally, Bluefeather was enjoying herself too much to bother with any kind of response to that. Cyclone, between her trembling legs, in an attempt to get her off, now used three fingers thrusting in and out of her Mistress. At the same time she was plunging knuckle deep, she was sucking and nipping her clit.

Fortunately for Bluefeather, Cyclone knew what she really enjoyed. It was the slow burn that really got her off. It wasn’t her thing, but she nonetheless slowed down her assault and made her climax in ten minutes. For her second climax, Cyclone went even slower. She gradually bought her up to the boil taking well over twenty minutes.

After she had ridden out her second climax, it was an extremely grateful Bluefeather who dragged Cyclone bodily up her until she was able to give her a long and passionate kiss. “MMmmmmm!” was all she could comment to that after having a tongue thrust into her tired mouth.

Now she had her where she wanted her, Bluefeather allowed her hands to roam freely over Cyclone's toned body, but she didn't dip below her waist. The athlete felt the soft delicate hands on her and she moved hers to cup and grope Bluefeather's breasts, her thumbs toying with her nipples. “It must be the altitude that has me in the mood,” she smiled.

“I love you in the mood, Mistress,” replied Cyclone, who was happy to play with those perfectly perky breasts a few moments longer. “Um,” she looked up after a few moments though, “Can you make me cum, please Mistress?”

Letting out a well-practised sigh, Bluefeather rolled her eyes at her needy brat. That said though, she was her brat. “I guess your adequate performance should be rewarded, hmm?”

“Adequ...!” exclaimed Cyclone indignantly, for her tongue skills had been off the charts! Then, she caught herself in mid protest and she shut up, her whole submissive body language showing her blush as she remembered her place. “I mean, thank you, Mistress.”

Bluefeather counted herself a lucky dominant to have such a bratty submissive who was so easy to read, punish and reward. She slid to the edge of the back seat and rolled so that Cyclone was on the bottom. There, she used her legs to make sure her pet's were straight. “Always the brat,” she kissed her, “Never change.”

“I-I w-won't M-Mistessssss!” moaned Cyclone while Bluefeather began a very slow burn attack on her with gentle nibbles to both her ears complete with delicate licks up the lobes and poking of her tongue inside. Cyclone hissed and squirmer her upper body to no avail as her Mistress slowly got her going, and little needy whimpers emerged the more she was teased.

Gradually, with all the speed of a glacier, Bluefeather moved a bit lower along her sub’s neck and jaw line. “C...C'mon Blue...” whined Cyclone, who knew perfectly well she was being demanding and bratty, but she didn’t care. “Make me cum, please?”

Pointedly ignoring her brat, Bluefeather giggled as she moved a bit lower so she could play with Cyclone's flat breasts with her hands and her mouth. “B-Blue pleeeeease!” she begged like the desperate sub she was. While she couldn't feel it, from her own scent she knew she was wet and incredibly aroused.

Keeping a hand on each of her breasts, Bluefeather bought her lips, teeth, and tongue into play as she worked ever downwards heading for the navel. “MMMMmmmm Miiiiistreeesss!” Cyclone groaned, by now leaking so much of her arousal between her legs. She had never been one for foreplay before, but Bluefeather has upped her teasing foreplay game considerably in the past few months and it was really, really getting her off.

That didn’t go unnoticed. “You smell so nice,” Bluefeather commented as she worked her way down Cyclone’s body to the imaginary line where feeling stopped and she danced along that line with her mouth.

“M-Must be a-all t-the teasing, Mistress!” squeaked Cyclone through panting breaths as she felt her Mistress’s hands slide lower down her body, “Damn you're amazing!”

“That I am,” smirked Bluefeather, who wasn’t about to argue. One hand then moved past her mouth to Cyclone's dripping snatch. A moment of sadness did cross her thoughts as she knew that no amount of playing with her clit would gain her anything. Still, she was wet and her fingers easily entered her, looking for that bundle of nerves just inside on the upper wall. She knew it would be dull, but she would feel that.

“Ooooooh Mistress!” Cyclone moaned, as she definitely felt that, the dull building pleasure adding to that which her Mistress had already given her on the way down. The athlete's body soon rewarded Bluefeather with more of her fluids leaked out onto her forearm. Smirking, Bluefeather slowly worked her hand further in, allowing her sub’s natural lubricants gain her deeper entry. A few inches in and Operation Cervix was a go. As her arm entered her, Bluefeather's mouth moved back to the belly button, and the other hand was up on a breast.

“BLUUUUUUE!” Cyclone screamed out loud and squirmed, panting and whimpering under the massive sensory assault that was getting her off. “I-I'm cumming....fuuuuuck I'm gonna cum soon, I swear!”

That was what Bluefeather was waiting to hear. She pinched at a nipple, bit just above Cyclone’s navel and she flicked her fingers hard against her cervix. That was all it took to get Cyclone over her edge. With a loud scream that could be heard outside the van, she gushed her cum all over Bluefeather’s chest like a waterfall.

~ ~ ~

Monday came as ever, following a wonderful weekend where Bluefeather dominated Cyclone all day long. This morning, the dominant teen out of her front door as soon as the minivan pulled up. “Should I call you Jeeves now that you are my valet at my beck and call?” she asked with a sly grin as she got in the passenger seat.

Cyclone, in a poor imitation of Parker, greeted her with a, “Good morning M’lady Mistress,” she snickered and adjusted the sun visor on the windscreen to keep the morning sun out of her eyes, “If you're calling me that, I want a hat.”

“I'm sure I can arrange for that,” Bluefeather sat and smoothed out her dress and appreciated the tee shirt and jean shorts her girlfriend was wearing. “Ready for our first day of the last year?”

“Seniors!” Cyclone’s cheer gave way to a sigh, “I'm ready to have this year behind me. I'm ready to be back to racing. Not so much Cranky's math class...or any of the other classes…”

“Just be careful where you park when you get to school,” warned Bluefeather, “The terror of the faculty lot is now in charge.”

“I remember Dash told me,” commented Cyclone as she slipped the van into gear and pulled out, “When she came over to see us the other week.” She steered around a few cars in her way, “Can you believe Celestia actually went through that portal thing to pony land?”

A roll of her eyes was all Bluefeather could muster to that. Magic was Canterlot High’s worst kept secret, particularly with Rainbow Dash running her mouth. “Rumours are she got married and retired, but after all that has happened, I think I'd believe anything.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Well,” Cyclone continued, “Wherever she is, good luck to her that's me. After last year with Sunset, the sirens and the Friendship Games, I think she's earned an easy retirement in Pony Land.”

“I for one hope our last year will be ‘weirdness’ free,” declared Bluefeather, “Neither of us need what happened at the mall to happen at school.”

“Blue,” Cyclone spared her girlfriend a wry glance when she stopped at a junction, “You don't have to say 'weirdness'. You can say magic, you know. You won't combust or anything, everyone knows about it.”

Bluefeather couldn’t help but giggle, “What if I say ‘Trixie’ instead? I’m going to miss her crazy shows.”

“Me too.” Cyclone replied with a very deep sigh. A short time later, she pulled into the Canterlot High student parking lot and took advantage of the handicapped zones close to the school. “Hopefully, with Sunset and those others all gone now, they've took the weird magic stuff with them. Gonna miss Dash. Hope the new captain's not a jerk.”

“A lot of people thought she would be a fifth year high school student. Oh,” Bluefeather gasped in pleasant surprise at their new spot, “I'm going to like this curb to curb service. You get one of the fancy close parking spots.”

“We have arrived, M’lady Mistress,” Cyclone giggled as she killed the engine. “Let me get your door for you.” Bluefeather was good for that, and she nodded approvingly. Cyclone got herself and her bag out, and she wheeled herself around to the passenger side. “Here you are, Mistress, may I take your bag for you?”

“Certainly, Jeeves!” with a giggle, Bluefeather placed her bag on Cyclone’s lap, “Let's see what Harshwhinny has for us for home room, shall we?”

“Shame she couldn't have retired...”

“We don't have any of her classes this year. Just show up, smile, and move on.”

Together, Bluefeather and Cyclone made their way along the halls to their home room, where the ever professional Miss Harshwhinny was waiting for them. She already had a class full; they were the last two. “Ms. Cyclone, you are to report to the Principal's office immediately.”

As one, the whole class started laughing but, turning on the spot, Bluefeather said it for all of them. “Wow Cy, first day and you’re already in trouble!”

“What?” Cyclone was stunned and shocked, indeed it was a good thing she was sat down, “But I haven’t done anything! Um…have I?”

“Bet you parked in the faculty lot!” called out a tall boy who Cyclone vaguely remembered was called Hightower.

“I did not…did I?” asked Cyclone, to gales of laughter from the rest of the class.

“Just be on your way, please, Ms. Cyclone.” Harshwhinny huffed, irritated at the disruption to her class before it had even started. She dearly hoped this wasn’t an indicator for how the rest of the year was going to go.

Bluefeather shook her head no, but she couldn’t speak, she was laughing along with the rest. “Ugh, fine…” Cyclone stuck her tongue out at her Mistress, something she knew she would pay for later, and she wheeled herself out to the empty corridor. When she reached Principal Luna's office, she knocked on the door.

Cyclone was greeted by Crescent Moon, Luna’s secretary, in the outer office. “Good morning, Cyclone. Principal Luna will see you now,” she looked over her half-moon glasses and she motioned to the closed inner door.

“Hey Principal Luna!” Cyclone greeted the tall dark blue skinned woman in her typically cheerful manner in an attempt to disarm her should it be necessary. “Um, I didn't do it, honest, whatever it is.”

Luna, sat imperiously in her chair like it was a throne, spared Cyclone a tiny little smile, “I think we both know it was Juniper Montage that did it, even if the person in the security cameras will never be found. Welcome to the effects of Equestrian magic.” She said and her smile widened, just a little. “As for why you are here, it is just a short tour so you can be indoctrinated in the handicapped facilities in our school.”

Somewhat uncomfortably, Cyclone scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, she did, but you know? I'm not bitter about it. I've had the summer holiday getting that out my system, with Blue's help.” She indicated the light grey collar she was wearing around her neck.

When she saw that, Luna’s smile grew wider and far more genuine, as she was thinking of her beloved Cheerilee's collar, but she said nothing about it. “The elevator is not for student use, but you are an exception. This key card,” she produced a simple plastic card with CHS stamped on it, “Will gain you access to it. I'll show you where it is.”

Walking out of the office, Luna held the door open for Cyclone to pass. “Alright, nice one, Principal,” she moved along at the older woman’s side, easily keeping pace with her, “What's that like, being the one in charge now?”

“A decent pay raise,” commented Luna with a smirk, “But I'll have to see how it goes over the year. I understand you have your own vehicle, with a better parking spot than mine.” She was only a teeny bit peeved at that. “You need to let the front office know if that changes so we can arrange for a correctly equipped bus to pick you up.”

“What can I say? It's the upside of having a mall stand thrown at you,” Cyclone giggled, “And I will, let you know, I mean.”

Luna walked on through a 'Staff Only' marked door and there was an elevator on the other side. “To activate the up down arrows you need to swipe the card over them. The basement has all the sports equipment, which includes your racing chair, where Mr. Will put it. There is roof access also, but I wouldn't bother. That card will not open the exterior door. It will override the system so you can use it when the fire alarm goes off. And for your curiosity, it only works on this elevator. No sneaking in at night.”

“Trust me,” responded Cyclone quickly, “I can think of better places to be at night than here, no offence, ma'am. And don't worry about the roof. I'm not great with heights. I'm more than happy with my wheels on the ground, thanks.”

Approvingly, Luna nodded her head, “The only wheelchair fire exits are the one in back out of the basement, and the front one on the first floor. I'm sure, in an emergency, you'd be willing to let someone carry you down an exterior fire exit, or interior stairwell?”

“You got it, ma'am,” Cyclone agreed very quickly, “One brush with death per lifetime is quite enough for me.”

“Good,” Luna could tell the teenager was being sincere, “You may have seen the other facilities, like the hoist for the pool. You are currently the only wheelchair bound student in school, now Miss Blur has graduated. If you have any issues, please let the front office know. I don't want any hindrance to your education. Any questions for me?”

“No, well I have a couple questions,” Cyclone clarified as Luna was about to walk away, “But not about school. You've just about covered everything I'll need to know.”

“Questions I may not want to answer then,” answered Luna sharply but not unkindly, “I'll leave you to get to your first class, which I believe is on the second floor. Enjoy your ride. Oh, students are still not authorized to use the elevator, so no passengers. Have a good day.”

“Before you go,” Cyclone stopped Luna in her tracks with her back half turned towards her, “Uh, can I ask what's it like, where Principal Celestia's gone to retire? Only question, I promise. I figured you'd know, since it was magic that did this to me.”

Pausing at the door, Luna thought for a moment. Ultimately, she turned to face the teenager. “I'm sure Rainbow Dash has said way too much. Anyway, I can say I've visited her, and it is a nice place. Different, but nice. My sister is happy, and that is what matters to me.”

“Thanks, Principal. Here's to everyone being happy. Even Juniper.” Cyclone smiled at the older woman; grateful she had been as open with her as she had been. “Anyway. I'd better get to Home Ec. Miss Peachbottom's showing us how to bake a cake!”

On her way out of the door, Luna muttered, “I hope she isn't using kirshwasser again…”

Since Cyclone didn’t know what – or who – that was, she didn’t question it. “Maybe I'll cook something that's edible this year?” she giggled to herself and took herself off to the Home Economics room for her class.

~ ~ ~

A few hours later and the school bell rang, signalling the start of the lunch hour. Bluefeather was waiting at the entrance of the cafeteria for Cyclone to arrive, which she did some minutes later. The black skinned teenager wheeled herself up to the cafeteria doors with a deeply unhappy look on her face. “Hey babes.”

“Wow Cy,” Bluefeather was stunned by the sour look on her girlfriend’s face, “I don't know if the lunch menu will be able to turn that frown upside down.” Food was one way to do it though.

“I hate cooking,” Cyclone muttered darkly, “Cooking sucks. Peach Ass sucks and so does Home Ec. Stupid cake, stupid oven, stupid class!”

Bluefeather, who did not have the class with her, simply giggled, “Was the smoke detector used, or a fire extinguisher?”

Despite her mood, the corners of Cyclone’s mouth curled up slightly, “Peachy had to use the extinguisher. What came out wasn't edible in any way…” she then grumbled a series of choice swear words, “The only thing that saved me from an F was the cream filling I made was pretty decent.”

“School still stands,” said Bluefeather breezily, looking around her as if to make sure, “So it is a win!”

“Still two and a bit hours of my life I won't get back...” Cyclone reluctantly giggled, “The only upside was that Gilda was even worse than me.”

“Who's Gilda?” asked Bluefeather completely innocently, “Don't remember that name.”

“Let's get something to eat, and when we're set, I'll show you the video Snapshot took on his phone.”

“After we're done eating,” added Bluefeather with a wink, “I don't want to snort dink out my nose in the cafeteria.”

“A wise precaution, cos trust me, you will laugh,” remarked Cyclone knowingly as she went with Bluefeather to join the line of students waiting to be served, “I've been dreaming about a burger and fries all morning.”

Bluefeather snorted derisively at the predictable choice, “They always have that, but I'm going for the pizza today.”

“Ooh...what do I want...” Cyclone was lost in a world of too much choice, and ultimately she decided to buck her usual trend. “Okay, pizza or burger...damn it, okay, pizza me up!”

“Copycat,” snarked Bluefeather as she helped herself to a couple of slices of the vegetarian pizza and a soda. “They’ve got that thing they call pudding or the other choice looks like vanilla cake with chocolate frosting.”

As she got three slices of the pizza on her tray, Cyclone surveyed the dessert options. Both looked amazing, if she was honest. “Looks better than the burnt effort I made; I'll go with the vanilla cake looking thing.”

Likewise, Bluefeather took the cake for her pudding and she followed Cyclone over to an empty table between the Fashionistas and the Techies. Not her first choice, maybe, but at least they weren’t the Rockers or the Jocks. “Cafeteria food is one thing that will never change.”

“It’s a good thing too,” commented Cyclone after very carefully getting to the table and balancing her tray on her knees. The last thing she needed was a spill on the first day. “How would we know the outside world had good food if CHS's didn't suck?”

“Based on that reasoning, the Burger Joint has good food.”

“Pfft...” snorted Cyclone as she took a large bite out of one of her pizza slices, “I've been telling you that for ages, now you believe me?”

“There’s a saying,” commented Bluefeather after she had taken a far more ladylike bite of her food, “That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger.”

“Jeez,” Cyclone said thickly around the food in her mouth, “Does that mean I'm invincible versus mall sunglasses stands?”

Wisely, Bluefeather nodded, “You're future's so bright you'll need to wear shades.”

“Awesome!” cheered Cyclone heartily as she polished off her first slice of pizza in short order. “New superhero, Sunny Girl.” When she saw Bluefeather reach for her soda, the athlete made her move to sabotage her, “She's wheely good!”

Predictably, Bluefeather snorted a waterfall of soda out of her nose, which she utterly failed to catch in her hand. “You fiend!” she exclaimed when she was done laughing.

“One point to me!” cried Cyclone happily as she set aside her pizza and she pulled out her phone and calls up the Facetube app. She was pleased to see that the video clip 'Gilda Cake Fail' was already posted and it had over two hundred views.

Bluefeather found the three minute clip of a very flustered Gilda pulling open the oven door so hard that she ended up on her ass with the cake splatting on the floor extremely funny. When the heat from the oven burned her eyebrows off she was laughing so hard she almost fell out of her chair. “Well,” she said eventually, “That one does make it look like you know which end of the spoon to stir with, at least.”

“I know right? This is hilarious! Honestly, I could watch this over and over all day!” and so she did, Cyclone repeated the video while she ate her second slice of pizza and slurped up half her soda.

“Yeah, but don't take it too far,” Bluefeather caught sight of Miss Peachbottom walking into the cafeteria, but she chose not to say anything, “Remember, that was you three years ago.”

“C’mon! It's Gilda!” exclaimed Cyclone, unwittingly too loud and she drew the Home Economics teacher’s attention, “Are you gonna tell her I'm laughing my ass off at a clip of her? Cos I'm not.” Just then, Cyclone heard the loud footsteps coming up behind her and she gulped, “She's behind me, right?”

It wasn’t Gilda.

“Ms. Cyclone.” Miss Peachbottom’s usually affable easy going tone was notably absent from her voice. “I've already given Mr. Snapshot detention for taking videos in class. Do you seek that?”

“Gah!” Cyclone flinched in her wheelchair like ice had been dropped down her back. On the one hand she was glad it wasn’t Gilda, on the other hand, it was a teacher. “N-No! Not on my first day, anyway. I mean, no ma'am!”

“Then we can agree that the school is not a place to show videos that shouldn't have been made in school, can’t we?”

“No ma'am, um...I mean, yes ma’am, I mean I’m turning it off, ma'am!” it was a very flustered Cyclone who snatched up her phone and who scrabbled with the buttons to turn it off. Naturally, the buttons were suddenly the size of pinheads and her fingers huge. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am…”

Letting out a snort of satisfaction, Miss Peachbottom turned and walked off without another word, leaving a very embarrassed couple sat at the table. When she was safely gone, Bluefeather whispered, “Busted.”

Cyclone huffed, “Well that sucked balls…” she then muttered not quite under her breath, “I'm not that much of a bratty bitch...anymore…”

At that, Bluefeather raised a pair of extremely sceptical eyebrows so far they disappeared up into her fringe. “Keep saying that and it might become a reality someday.”

“I'm really not!” Cyclone protested and then her eyes caught her phone, and she looked aside like it was accusing her of a war crime. “Well, maybe not much…”

Smirking, Bluefeather leant in close across the table, but she didn't kiss her girlfriend’s lips, “As long as you're my brat, all is good.”

“Always, Mistress, I'm always your brat.”

“I'd kiss you,” smiled Bluefeather affectionately, “But I don't want detention either. I’ll have to find a van to make out with you in later.”

“It just so happens, Mistress, I know of such a van!”

Lightly, Bluefeather bopped Cyclone's nose with her index finger, “After school, my brat. Right after school. Now I have a class I need to get too.”

“Uuuuugh...I hate you're so responsible!” whined Cyclone completely predictably, “Fine, I've got...something, too, I think.” She reached into her bag and took out her schedule planner. Also predictably, she let out a deep groan that came from her soul, “Not IT! That's worse than cooking!”

Giggling happily, Bluefeather skipped out of the cafeteria, leaving Cyclone to bang her head against the table. “High school hates me!”

~ ~ ~

Following a very, very long and incredibly boring afternoon round of lessons that made three hours feel like three years, the school finally let out for the day. Moving like she had a purpose; Cyclone reached her blue minivan first. A few moments later, she saw Bluefeather waving goodbye to some students she didn’t know and then she headed her way amidst a tide of students. “Hey Mistress, I thought you weren't coming.”

Amusedly, Bluefeather wiggled her eyebrows, “Not yet, brat.” The grey skinned teenager thoroughly enjoyed the way her girlfriend blushed at that. “Shall we step into your van of iniquity and find out?”

“You can step in,” Cyclone smirked as she opened up the back door and lowered the ramp, “I'll kinda do a rolling in thing.”

“And I love you for it,” Bluefeather blew Cyclone a long, lingering kiss on her way into the van. While the mass of students leaving the school was thinning out, Bluefeather moved deeper into the van’s interior. “Adding this curtain was a good idea.” She closed the curtain behind the front seat positions to afford them some privacy, and then she laid back on the back bench seat.

“Whoever thought of that was a genius!” agreed Cyclone eagerly, as she carefully slipped out of her wheelchair and onto the bench. “Mistress, I need to confess. I've been a naughty brat today.”

“After lunch?” asked Bluefeather with a casual lift of an eyebrow.

“Well,” Cyclone nodded her head and took a deep breath. She had to admit what she had done. “I stuck my tongue out at you in the home room, but yeah. It was pretty shitty of me to laugh at Gilda.”

“You also made me laugh playing that video at lunch,” pointed out Bluefeather, who had kept herself amused with the memory of the Facetube clip all afternoon.

“I didn't mean laughing at the video,” explained Cyclone, looking down at the floor of her van, “I meant in class.”

“You were very much a brat,” declared Bluefeather in the manner of one passing judgement, “What should I do with you?”

“I should be punished immediately, Mistress,” as she said that, Cyclone’s eyes flickered down to Bluefeather’s shoes and her socks. She knew she had been wearing those socks and shoes all day, and that her feet within would be nice and sweaty by now.

“Oh yes, immediately,” agreed Bluefeather, “But now to think of just how I'll punish you…”

The way her girlfriend left that hanging in the air drove Cyclone crazy with arousal and need. “I can think of a couple of things, Mistress,” she grinned, her eyes again going southward to those very sexy feet, “But they aren't really punishing me.”

“You’re right.” Bluefeather stood up in the van, “Top off,” she ordered simply. She was pleased to see her submissive quickly obey her and take her dress off, leaving her in her onesie. “So that’s what was under your dress.” She then unzipped the pink onesie to leave her bare chested and exposed.

Sat with her chest exposed, Cyclone’s eyes flicked down to her very flat chest and she blushed. “I like it…”

Smirking, Bluefeather pulled out a small bag from her backpack and out of that, she took a pair of nipple clamps, which she brandished like they were a deadly weapon. “Hmm, that is good to know, brat.”

“You carried those around all day?” asked Cyclone, then she quickly remembered she was meant to be in character, “I mean, ma'am?”

“Brat…” Bluefeather didn’t look at her as she reached back into the smaller bag and this time she took out a pair of ear clamps and a couple of short length fine stainless steel chains.

When Bluefeather did look up, she saw Cyclone eyeing the nipple and ear clamps warily, she knew she was wondering what she had in mind. “It’s not like I can spank you. I’d just get a sore hand and have to watch you yawn.” Having said that, she attached the nipple clamps where they were supposed to go and gave them a testing tweak. “You will stop me if I go too far.”

“Ah!” Cyclone gasped at the short sharp pain in her nipples, “Aah! Y-Yes ma'am, I'll stop you, ma'am!” she then giggled slyly to test her, “Like that time you tried to make me watch Marley and Me?”

Somewhat predictably, Bluefeather resorted to eye roll number three as she proceeded to apply the ear clamps to her submissive’s lobes and she tweaked them, hard. “Okay, now for the next trick!” Bluefeather then pulled some one quarter inch white nylon rope out of her backpack. “I wonder what they would have said if they inspected my backpack.”

“They’d have said Shop Class isn't till Wednesday?” offered Cyclone, who reached up and touched the clamps at her ears but she wisely made no attempt to remove them, not without permission.

“Arms out straight, brat,” ordered Bluefeather who, after Cyclone had extended her arms out, made a simple coil binding that went from four inches below to four inches above the elbows so she couldn't bend them. “Now to see just how much upper body strength you really have.”

“I’ve got plenty, Mistress,” Cyclone responded quickly. She was rather proud of the way she had been working out lately, and her developing upper arms were a testament to her hard work. That said, she was wary of the way Bluefeather was smiling at her.

Her ropework done, Bluefeather helped Cyclone up into a sitting position on the bench seat and she moved her arms so they were straight out from her body to the sides. “Now hold them there.”

“Easy, Mistress!” Cyclone didn’t see what the big deal was. She could do this all day!

“So you think…” smiling a wide smile, Bluefeather attached one of the fine metal chains to the nipple clamp on her submissive’s left breast, then she ran it through the fingers of her left hand, around the wrist and back through the fingers and up to the ear clamp on her left ear. She then repeated for the other side. “I've given some thought to this,” she said once she was done, “Raise or lower your arms.”

Not understanding the predicament she was in; Cyclone rolled her eyes as she lowered her arms first. Immediately she yelped at the tug to her ears. When she raised her arms, she yelped again, this time at the sharp tug at her nipples. The cutest thing was the look on her face like she expected a different result. “Ow! Ooooow!” she cried, “Oh...I get it, Mistress.”

“You will, my lovely brat.” Dramatically, Bluefeather reached a hand into her bag, a sinister look on her face, “Now it’s time for the instrument of your correction. Are you ready?” Almost like she was daring her, Cyclone placed her arms at the neutral position. Smirking, Bluefeather pulled out a long peacock feather like she had pulled the sword from the stone. “My lovely topless brat with her armpits fully exposed!”

“Oh no...” As ever, Cyclone had been slow on the uptake, she had been completely oblivious, right until the reveal of the feather. Then, she got it. And she knew she was going to get it.

The dawning look of horror on her brat’s face was the best thing Bluefeather had seen all day, even counting the Gilda video. “MWAHAHAHAHA!” she gave the poor villain laugh as she flourished the feather like a fencers sword, but she didn't touch her with it, not yet.

“Eeeek!” Cyclone squeaked, a squeak that was followed up with an 'ow!' because even though the feather didn't touch her, she flinched and moved her arms up. It was then that Bluefeather lunged forward with the feather only to reverse it at the last second and poke at her brat’s right breast with the pointy end. “Gaah!” Cyclone lowered her arms without thinking and grunted as she pulled on her ears.

“I put a lot of thought into this,” grinned Bluefeather as she used the fluffy end of the feather to lightly trace her way upwards from her brat’s hip to where she knew it would be felt towards her armpit.

“Ah! Haha...mmmm!” Cyclone giggled a little but she forced her arms straight out, refusing to give in and laugh.

“Vat ist dis resistance?” cried Bluefeather, sounding a lot like Photo Finish’s long lost sister. If Cyclone wouldn’t laugh, she would make her laugh. She made the feather dance rapidly over her upper torso.

“N-N-No...no-oohohoho!” Cyclone tried valiantly to keep her arms straight and immobile, but that didn't last long as she started first giggling, then laughing, then guffawing, which of course was interspersed with yelping in pain, then laughing again.

To further increase the torture, Bluefeather added the fingers of the non-feather holding hand to the mix. “Gaaahahaha!” Cyclone laughed harder and she started to spasm and squirm, laughing so hard that she pulled the clamp right off her left nipple and her right ear. “Ow!” she cried, “Ooow! St-staaaahahahahp!” there were tears in her eyes and she was struggling to breathe.

Aa few minutes of tickling later, Bluefeather duly stopped and she used one hand to rub the sore nipple, while the other hand released the other nipple clamp and ear clamp and them she moved to rub the pulled ear. “I noted the right nipple, so you have foiled me again, brat.”

“S-So-Sorry...” Cyclone gasped for breath, blinking away some tears from her eyes, “Mistress!” Bluefeather though thought she had nothing to apologise for, and she moved into a kissing / tongue battle with her brat. “MMmmmm!” it was a battle she was more than happy to lose, as she hugged Bluefeather close, feeling suddenly a lot better.

Following her victory, Bluefeather went into snuggle mode. “On a one to ten on originality. How'd I score?”

“Solid eight,” replied Cyclone after a second of consideration, “I really wasn't expecting the predicament thing. That was clever, babes.”

“I was a bit worried about the amount of pain it would cause,” admitted Bluefeather, “I don't think they heard your scream outside the parking lot.”

“I'd have given you a ten, but the dick move of knowing I'm ticklish earned a minus two.” Cyclone giggles and kissed an outraged, pouting Bluefeather’s freckled nose.

“Brat.”

“Your brat, Mistress.”

Carefully, so as not to pinch her skin, Bluefeather zipped the onesie back up, “You may drive me home, Jeeves.”

“Yes Mistress, home it is.” When she was back in front, safely secured in the driver’s position, Cyclone asked, “You gonna be on SnapChat later?”

“Once my homework is done.”

“Oh, yeah, homework…” Cyclone swore not quite under her breath as she headed on to Bluefeather's place. The smug look on her girlfriend’s face didn’t make it any better, either. “If I get mine done, can I get another pic of your feet?”

“Only after I get a pic of your finished homework.”

“Awwww Blue! That's not fair!” whined Cyclone as she made a very fake pout, “You'll wear those sexy stockings for me?” Annoyingly, Bluefeather tapped her chin like she was actually thinking about it. “Please? Pretty please?”

“I want to see neat homework.”

“I'll spell check it and everything.”

“I do look good in fishnets.”

“You’re even better when you've worn them for three days straight and you rub them on my face,” commented Cyclone, who somehow managed to resist falling into her favourite fantasy.

As she drove along, Bluefeather offered her girlfriend her best eye roll. “Fishnets, Cy. Sexy yes, but not enough to hold anything. Now those wool stocking of mine really do make me sweat, but not sexy.”

“Uh...yeah, I knew what you meant, honest,” giggled Cyclone, who knew she wasn’t fooling anyone, “And I think it's sexy.”

Affectionately, Bluefeather fluffed Cyclone’s turquoise hair. “But of course you do, I'm the sexy after all.” When they arrived at her home, she got out and blew her girlfriend a kiss. “I'll be online at eight, so you have a target goal. I'm off to bed at ten.”

~ ~ ~

A couple of days later and Cyclone was very, very excited at Canterlot High. Thursday was track day! This was the afternoon of the day of the week she had been waiting for all week! After her class was over, Bluefeather met Cyclone at the athlete’s locker and found her excitement thoroughly adorable. “Since you're my ride, I'll stay and watch, and do my homework.”

“Homework sucks,” Cyclone rolled her eyes at her locker, “Why do that when you can enjoy the Cy show?”

“You say it sucks,” commented Bluefeather with a wide smile, “But you did have it done by nine the other night, didn't you?”

“Yes ma'am!” Cyclone had the picture of her Mistress's stocking clad feet on her phone to prove it.

Just then, a girl, who Cyclone recognised as Long Stride walked up already changed into her sports kit. “Cy,” she beamed, “Coach Iron Will asked for me to show you where your chair is. Hi Blue.”

“Hey Stride,” Cyclone high fived her fellow track girl, demonstrating the proper ‘jock hello’ complete with a fist bump at the end. “I'm so looking forward to this!”

“Rumour on the team has it you get to skip hurdles practice,” grinned Long Stride, who was as tall and gangly as her name implied, “Which is the room your chair is in.”

Not being the tallest girl in the world, Cyclone laughed at that. She wouldn’t miss hurdles any more than she would miss math, if only she could miss it. “Good thing. I hated hurdles anyway.”

“You could always put rockets on the chair...” suggested Bluefeather, who nonchalantly inspected the back of her hand.

“Could you? Really?” predictably, Cyclone took all of the bait, “That'd be amazing!”

Long Stride and Bluefeather both shared an eye roll and a laugh, “When she sends you to the moon, Cy.”

As all three of them moved off towards the basement, Bluefeather paused when her girlfriend peeled off to the forbidden door. “Staff? Where are you going? I thought you'd go out the front and around to the building to the back.”

“To the lift,” Cyclone pointed to the forbidden ‘staff only’ door, “Luna said I get to use it, come on.”

Another look was shared between Long Stride and Bluefeather. As one, they made their minds up. “Okay!”

“Well, the stairs are a bit tricky nowadays, so I use this,” they both followed Cyclone through the door and they got on the elevator with her. “This is pretty sweet. I get what Blur was on about now.”

When the elevator finished its short ride down to the basement level, the door opened, revealing a rather smug looking Luna sitting in a chair waiting for them like a lion would wait for a passing gazelle. “Tsk, tsk, Ms. Cyclone.”

“Hello Principle Luna,” Bluefeather greeted her like nothing was amiss, while Long Stride simply smiled brightly.

“Oh come on! I...” Cyclone caught herself way too late following her frustrated outburst, “I mean, hey, Principal Luna!”

Luna looked like the cat with all the cream. “No able body people to ride in the disabled people lift. You know the rules, Ms. Cyclone.”

“Um, escort?” offered Bluefeather lamely.

Long Stride was just as lame, “Ahhh, I’m a guide?”

“I do need a guide and an escort, ma'am.” Cyclone didn’t seriously think that would wash with the new Principal. She was right.

“I'm sure you need many things, Ms. Cyclone,” Luna said as she stood up, “I doubt a guide and an escort are those things. As for you two, don't do it again. I think I'll go watch the track team.” Basking in her win, she walked off to the back exit.

“Ha!” Cyclone cheered only when Luna was well out of earshot, “I wasn't worried for a moment.”

“It’s strange,” said Bluefeather in a most accusatory tone directed to her girlfriend, “She acted like she already told you that.”

“I guess she kinda did,” admitted Cyclone, “But I figured we'd get away with it, y'know, it's the end of the day, nobody's about…”

Grinning, Bluefeather messed with Cyclone's short unruly turquoise hair, “I guess she knows you’re a brat, just like me, and that you’d try to get away with it.”

“She did seem to be waiting here,” pointed out Long Stride.

“That was such a Celestia dick thing to do!” protested Cyclone as the three of them made their way through the basement to the storage area. There was an excited gleam in her eyes at the sight of her shiny red racing chair. “There she is!”

Long Stride then gave Cyclone a copy of the storage room key to Cyclone. “If someone steals the hurdles, I'll never suspect it was you.” She grinned and, after another high five, she headed off to the sports field.

Left alone next to her new as yet untested and unused racing chair, Cyclone parked herself next to it and with some help from her girlfriend to get settled, she was securely strapped in. Unlike with her regular chair, Bluefeather made sure the straps were right and tight. “Now, to put all that rehab to the test.”

“You know it, c'mon, I want to give you something to watch!” Out on the track, Cyclone did very well. Thanks to her exhaustive physiotherapy regimen, as well as her brutal training, she was easily able to beat the other girls, and only two of the boys finished ahead of her.

Iron Will was most pleased. “Keep up the gym work on your upper body, Cy. You need to lean more into the turns but that means you need to work out each arm different so you can do that with a leaning position. Just practice so you don't fall out of the chair.”

“Yes sir!” though she was sweaty from her exertions, Cyclone was all smiles at her performance. While she didn't beat everyone, she did well enough for a first time out. “That was a blast!”

Accordingly, Bluefeather applauded, “You were very much in the zone!”

“Babes that felt awesome!” Cyclone flexed her arms, only too happy to show off for her girlfriend, who blushed at her bulging muscles, “I think I'm faster now than I was before! Just need to nail those corners…”

Affectionately, Bluefeather placed a finger on Cyclone’s lips, “Let’s go back to your place for a bath and I'll give you a rub down.”

“Yes ma'am!” Cyclone was very much up for that, and after she had taken the racing chair back to the basement, swapped over to her every day chair, she lead the way out of the school back to the van.

“Then I'll help you with your homework so we can relax a bit,” Bluefeather smiled as she kissed Cyclone lovingly on the lips. The athlete’s deep groan into the kiss was a priceless thing, one that Bluefeather savoured, “I'm not going to college without you, doofus.”

Chapter 8 - Gilda

A couple of days later and Bluefeather left Cyclone on the second floor and rushed down the stairs to meet her on the first, knowing full well that the elevator was off limits, she didn’t want another surprise Luna attack. It was the end of another long day at CHS, the longest of all, a Friday.

It just so happened that Gilda, along with a few other students who had piled out of their classrooms, was walking past the staff door minding her own business on her way to her locker. Right at that moment, Cyclone burst out of the staff door like a wheeled comet. “Coming through!” she screeched delightedly, going way too fast, “Wohoo! Outta the way, coming through!”

Fortunately, Gilda's quick reactions kept her from being hit by the speeding wheelchair, but in the act of sidestepping her, she shoved the back of Cyclone's chair with enough force that the athlete was propelled into a wall. “Watch where you're going!” the griffon yelled angrily.

Bluefeather, who had heard Cyclone’s loud cheer on the stairs and who had seen Gilda shove her girlfriend into the wall when she rounded the stairs, shouted, “What the hell!?”

“What the…” Cyclone, caught by surprise by the hard shove, suddenly saw wall looming at her at very great speed, “Hey!” she promptly hit said wall face first and she almost spilled out of her chair. “Oh,” she grunted once she had turned around, “It's you.”

“It could have been anybody, you maniac!” Gilda growled, her temper rising like an angry serpent ready to beat some sense into the idiotic racer.

Full of panic now, Bluefeather ran up to her girlfriend just as a crowd of other students who were going to their lockers at the end of the day started to hang back and watch the scene unfolding, though they said nothing. “What's the idea shoving the chair, huh?” shot back Cyclone, who didn’t want to lose face now she had attracted an audience, “That eager to get to remedial home ec and ruin more cake?”

“I'm eager not to get run over by a loser like you!” snarled back Gilda, who had her hands curled into fists and her target locked in. Her developed biceps throbbed dangerously, in time with a vein in her forehead.

One of the boys who was watching the scene, whose name was Trefoil, suddenly became very brave, “You know you did, like rush out without warning, Cy.” At the look he received from Cyclone, his boyfriend pulled him back into the anonymity of the crowd.

When Bluefeather reached the epicentre of the scene, her first priority was making sure that Cyclone alright. Cyclone shrugged her off, not wanting to look weak, “I clearly called out 'coming through', it’s not my fault feathers-for-brains can't understand Equestrian!”

Left Long, who had pulled Trefoil back, shot back, “Dude, yelling after you've gone through the door is a bit late.”

“See,” threw in Gilda, whose temper was diminishing a little, “You only care about yourself and no one else!”

“Okay, well, leave her alone,” put in Bluefeather, who put herself in front of Cyclone between her girlfriend and Gilda, “No one got hurt. Lesson learned.”

Gilda though was unsatisfied, as was her personal honour in the situation. The idiotic loser hadn’t even apologised when it was clearly her fault! “Like she can learn anything,” she muttered loudly before she started to stalk off the way she was going to her locker.

Cyclone, who had to have the last word, said, not quite under her breath, “Moody cow!”

Though she didn’t turn around, it was clear from the way Gilda flipped Cyclone the bird as she stalked off that she has heard her. Left Long held his boyfriend’s hand supportively, “That could have been bad if you were just a second or two later coming out of there Cy.”

Crouching down, Bluefeather whispered into Cyclone's ear as the watching crowd started to disperse lest they attract a teacher’s attention, “They are right you know, brat.”

Having recovered her composure in her chair, Cyclone gave Bluefeather a rather mutinous look before she slumped and rubbed the back of her head in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”

That established, Bluefeather looked her girlfriend over closely inspecting her head and face. “You did hit that wall hard, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” the last thing that Cyclone, ever the jock, wanted to do was to appear weak, “I didn't feel a thing!”

“You must have hit your head then,” snarked Bluefeather as she playfully tousled her girlfriend’s messy turquoise hair, “I'll check you out for bruises when we get to your place.”

“Fine,” with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Cyclone started to roll along by Bluefeather's side. School was out for the day and she didn’t want to be there longer than she had to be. “Whatever, you were right. I was wrong. It was my fault.”

“Yes you were, and yes it was,” agreed Bluefeather with a wide ‘I told you so’ smile, “But she didn't need to react by pushing you. Yelling would have been enough.” She then leant down for a quick kiss. “Thank you for not escalating it to a fight.”

A fight was the last thing Cyclone wanted. She was a jock, she wasn’t stupid. Even when she could walk she wasn’t much of a fighter, but now? “What am I gonna do, roll over her foot while she punches me? No thanks, Blue.”

Affectionately, Bluefeather ran her hands down Cyclone's arms, up and down her developing upper arms, where her hands lingered. “You've got some guns now,” she pointed out after a long kiss, “Just you are a sitting target.”

“I also don't have much reach though, do I?” snickered Cyclone as she flexed her arms and enjoyed Bluefeather’s swoon, “Otherwise I'd make you squeak in class,” she added with a salacious wink.

“Brat.”

“That's me!” Cyclone declared proudly with a delighted little giggle, “C'mon babes, let's get you home.”

Like Cyclone, Bluefeather was more than ready to be on her way. “Oh,” she delicately stroked her fingertips along one of those firm biceps she loved so much, “I'm defiantly going your way.”

“Cool,” as Cyclone wheeled herself outside into the rather pleasant afternoon sun, a far more important thought than school or Gilda entered her mind. “That new show starts today, 'Adora and the Magic Princesses’. All the reviews I’ve read say it's gonna be awesome!”

“We’ll have to see if it’s as awesome as you.”

“That'll make it like, triple awesome!”

~ ~ ~

Monday came around way too fast for Cyclone’s liking. She wanted to watch the Magic Princesses again, but Bluefeather had placed it under lock and key after having to endure the pilot episode for the tenth time. Or, rather, she had changed the pin number on Cyclone’s TV and not told her the new number.

After she had devoured her lunch in the cafeteria, Cyclone was haphazardly zooming along the halls of CHS in her regular wheelchair. Bluefeather was doing something boring in the library, something about researching some boring thing or other, which left the athlete to her own devices.

She could have been practising outside on the school track, but instead she chose to make the empty halls her own personal track. The hall she was currently racing her third lap along wasn’t empty for long though. From the shop room, where she had been doing extra work on her project, Gilda emerged.

Smirking broadly, Cyclone faked running the tall imposing bully over, just for the fun and giggles of it. However, even though she actually missed her target by quite a lot, Gilda was in no mood for Cyclone that day. Scowling nastily, she shoved the dowel she held in her hand into the spokes.

Now, it was a fact that Cyclone never wore the seat belt when she was in her wheelchair.

The dowel stopped the speeding chair suddenly, and immediately, which then launched Cyclone forwards out of her chair like a long dart. While she hit the wall head first and comically slid down it to land a crumpled heap, the chair came off worse. The wheel was buckled way out of shape and the back was twisted.

Fortunately, Cyclone was only bruised by her encounter with the wall. She realised quickly that the walls of CHS were beating her two to nothing, she should stop hitting them. “Who’s laughing now, huh?” demanded Gilda, who loomed over the fallen athlete with her fists clenched tight. But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw two students watching her with their phones out, and so she quickly took off.

Fleetfoot, one of the watching students, came up to check on Cyclone, suddenly brave now that the bully was gone. To her relief, the handicapped girl was only shaken. She helped to get Cyclone back in her damaged chair but it wasn’t going anywhere thanks to the damaged wheel. As quickly as she could, Fleetfoot went to get the racing chair from the basement while the other student stayed behind to keep an eye on Cyclone. Just in case.

True to form, Cyclone refused to go see Nurse Redheart. She knew she was okay; she was just aching all over where the wall had won their little tussle. Instead, as soon as she was able, she went to the Principal’s office, where much to her surprise, she saw Gilda sat in the outer office.

“I told them what I did.” Gilda didn’t look up from the seat she was sat on. She was content to sit and stare at her knees through her ripped black jeans. It was a hot competition between those and her battered heavy black boots.

“Oh yeah?” Cyclone wheeled up to the bully and in her mind she did a perfect handbrake turn. “I didn’t think I'd see you here.”

“I was so mad at you after home ec...” Gilda didn’t manage to finish her sentence before her words were swallowed up in a deep sigh. The floor was exceptionally interesting at that moment.

“Yeah,” Cyclone had a bit of a laugh on her face at the memory of the cake incident then she dropped it real quick when she saw the body language of the bully. It wasn’t the usual super confident self-assured look she normally employed. “Look, uh, it was shi...I mean, crappy, of me to laugh at you like that.”

“A bit late for that now, huh?”

Before Gilda could say anything else, the door to the office opened and there stood Luna, beckoning her forward. “Gilda, come in please.”

As Gilda disappeared into Principal Luna’s office, her secretary turned her attention to the wheelchair bound athlete. “Miss Cyclone, your detention is in the library at four, do you need to see the Principal?”

“Yeah I uh...um...” Cyclone was suddenly unsure of herself, “I was gonna tell her it's not all Gilda's fault.”

The secretary looked over her half-moon glasses at Cyclone, “What she did was pretty serious, but I can give you a pass to stay and talk with the Principal, once she’s done with Miss Gilda.”

“That'd be cool, thanks.”

Ten minutes later, Gilda came out of Luna’s office looking like a scolded puppy. “I, ah, I need to know how much it will cost to fix your chair.” Holding in her rage, that was all she said before walking out without another word or waiting for Cyclone's reply.

Cyclone, who was about to try and talk to Gilda, realised that it was probably best not to bother trying. While she was processing that, Luna opened her door once more. “Miss Cyclone, you can come in.” she heard the door close and assumed the athlete was in her office with her. “Miss Gilda said you took a spill into a wall. Are you sure you're okay?”

“My thick head absorbed the impact,” explained Cyclone, “So yeah, I was well protected.”

A laugh from Luna said she appreciated the joke for what it was worth. “Miss Gilda also told me about the home economics class, and of course the teacher confirmed it with your detention, but that is no excuse for her actions.”

“It kinda is, I mean, I did wind her up,” explained Cyclone as she nervously rubbed the back of her head like she did when she was feeling like that, “Bluefeather told me I'd gone too far into the whole not funny brat stuff.”

At last, Luna did turn to face Cyclone, utilising her dramatic turn she had been practising at home, “Not funny is injury and property damage. For your information, that you don't need to spread, is Miss Gilda will attend boiling pots after school. Until they release her, she is to pay for the damages to your chair. With that, I consider this case closed. Be cautious who you tease, Miss Cyclone. Today's outcome could have had someone in jail and Bluefeather without her girlfriend.”

“Would I have gone to jai...ooooh, I see.” Realisation suddenly dawned upon Cyclone as she got the older woman’s meaning. “I understand, yeah, I guess I've had two near misses now, huh?” she couldn’t help but feel extremely guilty, “I won't tease her again, ma'am, I don't want to see anyone locked up.”

“Ink Well will give you a pass,” Luna said as she took her seat behind her desk, her mind wandering to Cheerilee and what they would be getting up to later at home. It was far more entertaining than dealing with idiotic teenagers. “Try to keep the rumours in check in future.”

When Cyclone got to the library, she found Bluefeather already there waiting for her in the entrance foyer. Seeing her girlfriend approach, she stopped playing with the hem of her sundress, but her smile was lost to confusion. “Why are you in your racing chair?”

Letting out a sigh, Cyclone readied herself to receive her girlfriend’s tirade. “Gilda shoved some wood in the wheel of my ride, I took a spill into a wall…” predictably, Bluefeather glowered with anger on her face. “It's okay,” Cyclone quickly tried to calm her down, “Luna's sorted it. Gilda turned herself in.”

Not wholly convinced, Bluefeather quickly moved over to her and looked Cyclone over, checking her out for any cuts or bruises or even scrapes. Straight away, she saw the bruises on her face and her right arm. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Blue I'm fine,” Cyclone rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s incessant fussing, “I've took worse spills on the track.” she sighed dejectedly, “You were right. I was an unthinking immature brat. Again.”

Quick as a flash, Bluefeather narrowed her eyes dangerously, “Are you saying there are times when I'm not right?”

“No Mistress!” Cyclone corrected herself just as quickly, “I'm not saying that at all, Mistress.”

Amusedly, Bluefeather raised her eyebrows, “Well it is quiet in here,” she giggled, “Now, go see Ms. Just Now and I'll go read a book with no pictures.”

“Yes Mistress,” Cyclone turned and took herself over to the librarian's desk where Cheerilee’s assistant was busy working on a stack of returned books, “Hey, ma’am, I'm here for my detention.”

Wondering why she had to be the one to deal with this, Just Now pulled out an anti-bullying pamphlet from under her desk along with a piece of plain paper and a pen. “Read that,” she said shortly, “And write two hundred and fifty words on what you learn.”

Groaning deeply, Cyclone took the pamphlet, paper and pen and made her way over to one of the empty tables to get started. “Uuuuuugh...” she moaned after she was done with her pointless work and she slumped her head on the desk and wished she was anywhere but there.

Cyclone knew that now she was destined to spend the rest of the one hour time sitting at the desk doing absolutely nothing. It didn’t help that Just Now only checked in with her to make sure that Cyclone wasn't sleeping.

“Is it over yet?” wailed Cyclone despondently. Nearby, she heard Bluefeather giggling at her but Just Now refused to say anything. “Uuuugh I hate this!” Cyclone banged her head on the desk in utter frustration and settled in for the remaining thirty two minutes of terminal boreditess.

It was utter hell just sat there all quiet and non-moving, and the end couldn't come quick enough.

Eventually, when the allotted hour was up, Bluefeather put her finished book away and she walked over to her languishing pet. “Yours had pictures, but I didn't have to do a book report on mine.”

“Is that it?” Cyclone asked, a look of desperate hope plastered all over her face, “That was worse than watching Marley and Me!”

Smirking, Bluefeather got out her phone, “Someone must have that on DVD…”

“Blue please, not again!” Cyclone pleaded. If she could have gotten on her knees and begged, she would have done, right then and there in the middle of the library. “I'll do anything you want, anything!”

Bluefeather’s smirk grew wider, more victorious. “No you won't, but at least I know you'll try.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Where's your damaged chair?”

“Fleetfoot said she’d put it down in the equipment room for me.”

“Okay,” Bluefeather checked her watch and did a few calculations in her head, “We’ll need to load that up to get it fixed before we go back to your place. I’ll see you at the elevator in the basement.”

“Yes Mistress!” Cyclone was only too eager to be getting out of the library and away from all the nerdy books, and indeed away from the school as a whole. It was the end of the day and she had cartoons to watch.

Bluefeather walked with Cyclone from elevator down to the equipment room, which Cyclone had a key for, and she whistled appreciatively when she saw the extent of the damage Gilda had done. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah,” Cyclone brushed off the multiple aches and the throbbing bruise on her face, “I'm fine, it was just a wall.”

“Fine,” the roll of her eyes said Bluefeather didn’t wholly believe her, “But I'm going to check you out very closely when we get home,” she pushed the damaged chair while Cyclone took care of herself, “At least one wheel works. Let's go out the back.”

“Will you wear that sexy nurse's outfit?”

For a moment, a very brief moment, Bluefeather was tempted to say no. But, she reasoned Cyclone had endured detention. She’d suffered enough. “Of course. I do have to play the part of a medical professional to make my diagnosis!”

“Score!” hearing that, Cyclone was moving a fair bit quicker towards the exit and on her way to her van.

When they got to the blue minivan, one of only three vehicles left in the student parking lot, Bluefeather loaded the chair into the back and locked it down. She then sat in the passenger seat while her girlfriend secured herself and her racing chair in the driver’s side. “You can tell your mom and dad about this.”

“Uuugh, do I have to?” Cyclone thought she wouldn’t mind five minutes with Gilda and her fists than spending an evening with her parents clucking over her like over protective mother hens. “Fine...I suppose I really should.” She knew she couldn’t avoid that fate for long, “I guess we should get the chair fixed first, huh?”

Bluefeather nodded with a smile, “I bet it’s a total nerd shop.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone agreed as she put the van in gear and pulled out of the parking lot onto the street, “And not the cool kind of nerds either. I bet none of them have ever read a comic book in their lives.”

“So I'm cool then,” Bluefeather shot Cyclone a sly look, “As I think you read them to me in my sleep.”

Cyclone caught the sly look and she saw the trap that her girlfriend was setting for her. She wasn’t that dumb. “Yeah you're way cool. You're with me. That makes you cool, like that science thing, uh...os...osmo, that thing I can’t say.”

“Did you mean when you put an orange on your desk. sleep through class, then eat the orange at the end to gain the information through the orange by osmosis?”

Honestly? Cyclone really had no earthly idea what she meant or what Bluefeather meant any more. Ultimately she decided to play it safe. “Yeah, that one. That's what i meant. Probably.” Wisely, Bluefeather just looked smug while Cyclone drove along. “I hate that look sometimes.”

“I love you.”

Cyclone’s pout disappeared pretty quickly. “I love you, Mistress.”

Upon arrival at the repair store, Bluefeather lightly patted Cyclone on the head like she was petting a well behaved puppy. “You are a good girl,” she spoke to her like she was a well behaved pet, “You didn't go total brat on the drive here.”

“Does that mean I get a reward when we get home?” asked Cyclone hopefully as she watched Bluefeather get out and wheel her broken chair out the back ramp.

When she had the chair out down the ramp, Bluefeather looked back over her shoulder, “We're not home yet, brat.” She replied curtly, not waiting for her to get out before she moved to the repair shop.

“I wish we were at home,” Cyclone muttered under her breath as she rolled her head back on the head rest and she found her thoughts lingering on the events of the day, the spill from her chair, being an utter ass and then finally Gilda herself.

“Are you coming?” called Bluefeather who was waiting on the sidewalk.

“Yep!” Cyclone cursed herself for drifting away like that and she quickly got herself out of the van, then she hurried to catch up to Bluefeather, who had just gone into the store. The inside of which looked like any other bike shop Cyclone had ever been in. She only knew of the place at all because her parents told her about it. The counter was low enough for her and she thought the guy behind it was sat down. “Hey, how's it going, uh, you got a sec?”

The guy at the counter looked up from his magazine and, taking one look at the damaged chair, whistled appreciatively and wheeled himself around to where his new customers were stood. “Woah, what happened here?”

“Awesome, Gas Pedal,” Cyclone referred to his name tag, “We match chairs!” she giggled, “I uh...I had a spill at school. Going way too fast, a bully thought I should slow down.”

“Let me guess, a broom handle in the spokes?” Gas Pedal asked shrewdly, having encountered many of those bullies in the past.

“Wooden dowel,” corrected Cyclone, “But yeah, that.”

“That’s rough. We have wheels and axels in stock,” Gas Pedal spoke as much to himself as to the two girls in his store, “I’ll need to order the back frame, but it would be here tomorrow. Can you leave it overnight?”

“Yeah, I got this to get around in. You can fix her right?” asked Cyclone like she was asking a vet if they could save her beloved pet, “She's my first chair.”

Gas Pedal looked at Bluefeather, “Could you park it left of that door, please?” he pointed at the door in question, then turned to Cyclone. “Join me at the counter and I'll draft a cost estimate. It'll be ready after five p.m. tomorrow.”

As he wheeled himself back behind the counter and Bluefeather did as she was told, Cyclone followed him to the counter. “So uh, how much does something like that repair cost, anyway?”

“The wheel, a hundred bits. Axle that makes it work, one hundred and fifty bits. The frame is two hundred, so you’re looking at four fifty in total. That includes a complete tune up after the repair. If you’ve got twenty minutes, we can tune up your racer too. Came with the purchase.”

“I've got twenty minutes,” agreed Cyclone quickly, though her mind was racing along a whole other route, one that involved Gilda and money. “You can make her go faster?”

“No,” Gas Pedal laughed, “That's your job. We can make sure it’s operating at peak performance.” When Cyclone nodded her head, Gas Pedal pointed to an empty wheelchair by the counter. “Transfer over to that,” he said of the second tier chair, “And have a look around. There’s a nice coffee shop just down the block across from a mom and pop grocery store.”

“Thanks Gas,” with just a little effort, Cyclone transferred herself over to the empty chair, “I'll go find Blue.”

As it happened, Bluefeather had placed the chair and was busy snooping around the otherwise empty store looking at go faster decals. She saw Cyclone coming and rushed over to intercept her. “Everything go okay?”

“I'm good, Mistress,” replied Cyclone, “Gas Pedal is tuning the racing chair for me. Comes with the repair, apparently. He says there's a coffee shop down the block. You want to go get a drink?”

Quickly, just in case Cyclone had noted where she had been looking – it was a longshot, but you never knew – Bluefeather said, “Yes! Great idea.”

“Had to really twist your arm, huh?” giggled Cyclone, “Come on then, he said it was across from a grocery shop not far away.”

Out on the sidewalk, Bluefeather looked down the street to the left and then to the right. Unfortunately, nothing she saw gave away the presence of a coffee shop. So, she ducked back inside, “Which way to coffee?” smiling, Gas Pedal pointed to the left.

“Thanks!” Cyclone gave him a cheery wave but, on the way to the coffee shop, she was unusually quiet. Apparently she was deep in thought, because even Bluefeather’s attempt at conversation went unanswered. After the second attempt, Bluefeather contented herself with walking alongside Cyclone with a smile on her face, happy to look around. Cyclone was still quiet all the way to the coffee shop.

“That must be it. Stripes Cup of Java,” Bluefeather led the way across the street with Cyclone by her side. “It smells good, right Cy?” she noted that her girlfriend was still silent as they approached the counter. This was unusual. “Something weighing you down?”

“I'm thinking.”

“Usual cream coffee?”

“Yeah, please,” replied Cyclone, “But that's not what I'm thinking about.”

At the counter of the half full coffee shop, a tall rather well built zebra by the name of Grassland was the one to take their order. “Do you have Luna coffee?” asked Bluefeather of the dark green young man.

Grassland though didn’t immediately move. “You have ID?” he asked in a voice so deep it could be felt not heard.

“I’m just asking,” replied Bluefeather with a smile, “One creamy coffee and one Celestial coffee please.”

“I’ll have them right up for you,” he turned to operate the coffee machine behind him, “That’ll be eight bits, please miss.”

After paying for the drinks, Bluefeather turned to her girlfriend, “Cy, would you please get us a table and I'll be over with the coffees.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone scanned the half full shop for an empty table and, when she found one over by one of the large windows, she carefully made her way over to it, all the while thinking so hard that steam could appear from her ears at any moment.

A very short time later, Bluefeather was over and she sat opposite her and slid the creamy coffee in front of Cyclone. “Okay. Talk to me.”

Cyclone looked down at her coffee like the liquid held the answers to life, the universe and everything. Sadly, it didn’t. “Gas Pedal said it'd be four hundred and fifty to fix my chair.”

“Okay,” Bluefeather mulled that over with a mouthful of her own coffee, “What did it cost?”

“Oh, I dunno, Blue,” Cyclone spread her hands apart in a shrugging gesture, “I'm not sure dad ever told me. The thing is, four hundred and fifty is a lot of bits.” It wasn’t for her, her mom and dad were loaded as all heck, but Cyclone had been taught to appreciate money.

“Yeah it is,” the more grounded Bluefeather readily agreed, “But it does look like a lot of damage. You thinking of not sending the bill to Gilda?”

That was exactly what Cyclone was thinking. “Does she look like she has four hundred and fifty bits?”

Now it was Bluefeather who shrugged, “None of us look like it, but that doesn't mean much. It’s her responsibility. Let her try to persuade you. Griffons do have that honour thing going on.”

“Yeah, that, I was thinking about that,” Cyclone said thoughtfully along with a long, slow drink of her coffee and she took her time to swallow and savour the flavour. Zebra’s did make the best coffee. “What if I suggest she works it off, get her a work experience thing with dad?”

“What?” Bluefeather exclaimed, “She's underage like us. Your dad wouldn't ever take her on. You know he only teases you about being in the magazine.”

“I didn't mean for her to appear in the magazine,” explained Cyclone with a ‘duh’ look on her face like what she was thinking was obvious, “I mean like be a runner, fetching stuff, behind the scenes assistant type stuff.”

“You know what she’s doing now?”

“Not a clue. I wouldn't even know which trailer park to find her in.” suddenly, her eyes went very wide, like she had come to a brilliant conclusion, “Rainbow Dash knows her though!”

“Pfft,” Bluefeather snorted and rolled her eyes, “Dash knows everyone. Use your settlement money to pay the repair costs and give Gilda the bill via Principal Luna on Monday and see what happens.”

“You're right,” Cyclone sipped at her coffee, “I'll do that.”

Smiling, Bluefeather looked around at the coffee shop and she liked that she saw. There were griffons sat with zebras and there was even a dragon sat in the corner. Within those, there were heterosexual and lesbian and gay couples all sat minding their own business. “I like this place and guess what?”

“What?”

“One, the customers here are just a bit older than us, and two, we're three blocks from the University.”

“You thinking about making it our college hangout?”

“Well,” Bluefeather responded like Cyclone was being particularly dumb, “Our hangout, but I guess the college kids can keep coming too.”

Looking around at the patrons in the coffee shop, the ever dense Cyclone completely missed the point that Bluefeather had made. “It's a cool looking place,” she commented at last. “Oh, look, zebras!”

Resisting the urge to facepalm, but not by much, Bluefeather leant over the table and whispered, “Looks like it’s an accepting place. Maybe even a chair jockey like you can fit in,” she added with a giggle.

“That's what I meant, accepting.”

Lightly, Bluefeather punched her girlfriend’s upper arm, “I know what you meant silly. And I'll prove it.” Again she leant over the table, but this time she placed a long, loving kiss on her lips, to no reaction at all from the other patrons.

“MMmmm, I really like that, Blue.” Whether it was the kiss or the lack of reaction she liked, she didn’t elaborate.

“Graduation looking a little closer now?”

“Yeah, I mean what with everything that's happened,” Cyclone swirled what was left of her coffee thoughtfully around in her mug, “I've kinda not been thinking about 'after CHS' much, y’know?”

She knew. Bluefeather gently tapped the bridge of Cyclone's nose. “You know your grades are going to reflect that, and I think you'd rather race full time in college and work part time, rather than work full time and have to come visit me.”

“Yeah I would, do the racing in college thing I mean. But well...I dunno, Blue.” Cyclone hated feeling like she was feeling right then. Vulnerable. “I'm not the fastest or smartest cookie in the jar, am I?”

Though she didn’t see it very often, Bluefeather recognised the vulnerable look on her girlfriend’s face at once. “You're not stupid, Cy, and I haven' t seen a cookie with wheels. But, that said, you do need to apply yourself.” Then, she adjusted her tactics ever so slightly, “We'll keep our study group going and I will get me a sexy teacher outfit and a metal ruler to keep you in line.” She hoped making it sexy wouldn’t scare her off.

“That's okay while we're not at school,” Cyclone pointed out, “What happens when I'm in class? You know I don't think as fast as the other students, by the time I've worked something out, the whole class is onto the next thing.”

Of course Bluefeather knew it, but it was a rare thing indeed for Cyclone to openly talk about it with no prodding or cajoling on her behalf. Curiously, she tilted her head. “Why do you think that is? Is it one class or all of them?”

“Math, History, Geography, Science, English,” Cyclone gestured with her hand with every subject she named, “All the hard stuff. You know my grades barely pass there.”

Bluefeather thought that over for a moment before the answer presented itself. “You want a real tutor and not me just beating sense into you? That settlement money could easily cover that.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone nodded, “I’ve got to do something drastic, Blue, or I'm not going to Harmony U, no matter how fast I race. But…I still want you beating sense into me though.”

“That is a given, my lovely brat,” Bluefeather winked salaciously, “Ask the councillor at school who they recommend. No point in someone that teaches the same way the teachers you already have does.”

“Consider it on my ‘to do’ list on Monday, babes.”

“We are going to get through this together, my beautiful brat,” Bluefeather kissed her once more, “Trust me, I'm not leaving you behind. If you leave me behind it’s only because you're racing.”

“I know,” then, Cyclone’s voice went a lot quieter, almost inaudible. “Mistress, I'll do better.”

“You will do better.” Bluefeather knocked back what was left of her coffee, “Your chair should be ready by now, so next stop is the mall.”

“Yes Mistress, the mall it is!” Like Bluefeather, Cyclone downed her coffee. The walk back to the repair store was pleasant and uneventful, mercifully. Both girls had enough excitement for one day.

At the store, they found the racer was good to go and ready for them to pick up. Gas Pedal looked justifiably proud of the tune up job he’d performed. “I double checked the paperwork. Your racer has insurance with fifty bits deductible. There was nothing on the regular chair, but it was only a thousand bits.”

Bluefeather stood stock still and blinked several times at the revelation of the wheelchair’s cost. Cyclone on the other hand was more vocal. “How much? It's a good thing I'm sat down, or I'd have fell down!”

“It’s one thousand for the one we're fixing,” Gas Pedal patted the side of the racing chair like he was patting the side of a high powered exotic supercar. “This beast right here is eight thousand. If one was to get wrecked they thought it would be the racer as it’s a tough sport.”

“Are you serious?” Cyclone could tell purely by the look on his face that he was very serious. “I can get all the Exploding Ninja Pirate merch ever made for that!”

Having recovered from her shock at the money, Bluefeather laughed out loud. “I can see you trying to pass it off as a medical expense too!”

“The account you used to buy it can be used to fix it too,” put in Gas Pedal helpfully, because he had no idea what a Ninja Pirate was or why one would explode, “But you should take the person that did it to small claims court.”

“Yeah, I'm all over that, Gas Pedal, don't worry, it's taken care of,” Cyclone then giggled at Bluefeather, “And I do mean the six foot long super deluxe galleon playset with the rigging and the working guns...”

“Then hop in your battleship,” Bluefeather barely managed to cover her broad smirk at Cyclone’s predictable outrage at her getting it wrong on purpose, “I mean galleon and board the mothership.”

“Yes Mistress!” not caring for the puzzled look that Gas Pedal gave her when he heard her refer to Bluefeather as ‘Mistress’, Cyclone quickly transferred herself from the store chair to her newly tuned up racer.

Once the good byes had been exchanged and the two girls were back in the minivan, Bluefeather couldn’t resist a little fun. “Next stop 'The Mall',” she announced like she was an air stewardess, “Please keep your head and hands inside the vehicle at all times.”

The short twenty five minute drive to the Canterlot City mall was an uneventful one, unless you counted Cyclone swearing dramatically at an old man who cut her up, which amused Bluefeather immensely, because she learned several new words to add to her vocabulary.

“You know, I really don't think you'll get away with buying toys with the settlement money,” Bluefeather added once they had found a handicapped spot to park in, “Or at least some toys. You can always try.”

“You do know I was joking right?” Cyclone snickered as she killed her van’s engine, “I mean where would I even put a six foot long galleon? Even if it does have all the rigging and working guns…”

“Well, not in me, but...” Bluefeather left that hanging in the air as she looked her brat over with an appreciative eye in the light of the van’s interior lights.

“Well, you can fit five fingers in me.”

At that, Bluefeather let out a delicious little giggle at her girlfriend’s innumeracy, “And a thumb.”

“Yeah! That makes six!” Cyclone blushed when she realised her mathematical mistake too late to cover it up. “Besides,” she changed the subject, “I'm loose. I'm not a dry dock.”

“You are a sexy port of entry, my love.” Before Cyclone could say anything to that, she placed a long hard kiss on her lips, “Now, the coffee and the muffin was nice, but I could use more fuel.”

Predictably, Cyclone’s stomach gave an extremely loud rumble, “Yeah, I could go for something too.”

“You want a BJ?”

“I can handle a foot long, Mistress.”

After a rather nice meal at the Burger Joint outlet in the mall, Bluefeather took a moment to wipe Cyclone’s chin clean of the hot sauce that had dripped there. “Okay,” she beamed, “You have been a good brat, overall. I authorize you to spend twenty dollars at the comic shop.”

“Thank you Mistress that's awesome!” Cyclone’s eyes actually sparkled with the possibilities, “I can get the new Captain Black figurine, y'know, from the Exploding Ninja Pirates movie we saw!”

For the life of her, Bluefeather couldn’t recall who Captain Black was. “It’s your twenty.”

Unable to resist the snicker, Cyclone teased, “You don't remember her do you?”

“Um, ah, well…” Bluefeather blushed at being so quickly called out like that, “I just don't know if it is less than twenty is all,” she finished with a firm nod of her head that said that was that.

Cyclone laughed almost to the point of being bratty but fortunately for her she knew when to stop, which was just on the right side of the line. “She's nineteen ninety nine, Mistress.”

“I hope you have the tax money in your pocket then,” Bluefeather then added in a low voice, “Was she one of the ninjas?”

“Yes Mistress,” replied Cyclone as three late afternoon shoppers walked past them on their way, “She was the Pirate Ninja sister of Captain White. That was Chestnut Magnifico's character. She got her real life wife to play the part of Captain Black. All she had to do was look mean.”

“Go me!” Bluefeather did a little happy dance, “I passed a Cy quiz.”

“You did, and I'm very proud of you,” Cyclone reached up and she patted Bluefeather’s head, even going so far as to tousle her blue hair. Snorting at that, Bluefeather followed Cyclone into the comic store. “Don't you worry, Mistress. You're the coolest person in here.”

“Yes I am,” agreed Bluefeather with a knowing grin, “And if there was a figurine of me in here?”

“Then it would be the coolest figurine in here, Mistress.”

Bluefeather’s grin became a warm smile, “Get your figure. But, you can look around for a bit first.” That was a ruse, and as Cyclone made her way around the store, Bluefeather slyly looked at the Power Pony figures so she could match the names to the designs.

Adorably, Cyclone was literally like a kid at Hearths Warming morning opening the biggest present first. “Oooh look! The Power Pony glitter figures!” she scooted over past a few other shoppers in the store before she set a determined look on her face, “No! Focus, Cyclone. Captain Black. She will be mine!”

The figurine in the box that Cyclone eventually picked up looked a lot like Aria Blaze, but an Aria Blaze wearing a steampunk pirate costume.

For her part, Bluefeather was happy that the unaware Cyclone had narrowed her search for Power Pony figures. She was now close enough to read the boxes, but not too close as to seem interested in them. “This figure is awesome!” Cyclone showed off her find, “Look at this, it even has shuriken throwing action! Shame it's never coming out of the box!”

“May be a good thing,” snarked Bluefeather, “I don't need you lobbing exploding shuriken grenades at me.”

“You know if I played with it, I'd wear the spring out in the arm.”

The way her girlfriend was practically caressing the box gave Bluefeather an amused thought. “When you squirt on it, will that box be enough protection, or will you need a condom bag over it?”

While Cyclone just snorted out a laugh, a couple of nearby nerds reading comics swooned on the couch they were sat on. Much to Bluefeather’s annoyance. “It seems I'm going to have to up my embarrassment game.” She huffed with her arms crossed under her breasts.

“Nice try, babes,” Cyclone giggled, “But you forget, I've had sex, they haven't.”

Playfully, Bluefeather cuffed her girlfriend upside her head, just hard enough to make her laugh louder, “To the checkout, brat.”

“Yes Mistress,” Cyclone had the figure in her lap and she wheeled herself over to the counter, where the Cashier looked just like he worked in a comic store, was waiting to charge her twenty one nineteen, with tax. Cyclone handed him a twenty five bit note and when she told him to keep the change, she was informed they didn’t take tips.

Bluefeather was quickly on hand though, “She’s a germaphobe for non-plastic toys. I'll take the change.”

Now, Cyclone was actually embarrassed at that, “Blue!” she exclaimed, and she blushed at the same time squirmed in her chair, because several very dorky people were snickering at her!

“Finally I score a point,” Bluefeather licked an index finger and drew a ‘one’ in the air and wore her ‘smug’ face. “Time for more shopping!” she promptly walked out of the store without looking back.

“Shopping!” still very embarrassed, Cyclone quickly scooted herself out of the store with the geeky laughter warming her ears.

At the entrance to the pinkest store on the planet, Bluefeather paused and turned to her girlfriend with a serious expression on her face. “We’ve been having fun. Should we try to do anything more advanced, or should we just spice up the role play?”

Right or wrong, the competitive Cyclone took that as a bit of a challenge. “I'm good with trying something more advanced, Mistress. You know I trust you.”

“I'm thinking of adding chains to go with the clamps,” Bluefeather tapped her chin, apparently deep in thought, “Maybe get some rings for your fingers and toes with chain clips?”

“I'm here for that!” Cyclone agreed readily, “That predicament thing you did in the back of the van with the clamps and chains was sweet. I'd love to do more of that kind of thing.”

“It’s almost like gaming to overcome a puzzle,” Bluefeather snickered and inside the store, she went up to the front counter. “I'm looking for the sexiest teacher outfit you have, please.”

The woman serving, Tight Loop, if her nametag was to be believed, greeted them with a warm genuine smile. “Halloween or private?”

“Very private.”

In an instant, Tight Loop had pulled out a catalogue from under her counter and she flipped through it to a page. “Here are the two female models.” She showed them to the two girls.

“Oh wow look at that one!” Cyclone pointed to the one with the extremely short skirt and the top so tight and low cut that absolutely nothing would be left to anyone’s imaginations, “You're right, that is very definitely a private outfit.”

“I think breathing will have me falling out of that one.” Commented Bluefeather, though she wasn’t against it.

“All part of the charm,” smiled Tight Loop, “We don’t have it in stock, but discreet package can be delivered to your door in two days.”

“That works,” said Bluefeather, her mind made up, “What do you have in the way of AB/DL stuff?”

Tight Loop pointed into the store, “Aisle three, in the centre on the right. There are pamphlets to order items that aren’t in stock. Something in particular you're looking for?”

“How about a nice pink crib?” Cyclone said it like a joke, then she realised Bluefeather was being totally serious.

“Take a pamphlet on that,” smiled Tight Loop as she fished one out and gave it to Bluefeather, she was clearly the one in charge. “Too much space to stock, but they are discreet in delivery, too.”

“If someone uses a nappy in a naughty way,” started Bluefeather, “I want to leave them in it without causing any serious harm, just some discomfort.”

“That we do carry,” Tight Loop’s smile remained, “There are three types of ointments that will keep away diaper rash as long as they are applied at least ten minutes before they’re needed, but you need to reapply every six hours. I think they carry a strong warning to clean up a mess with in five hours of use.”

Beside Bluefeather, cyclone was opening and closing her mouth in a good impression of a stunned fish, but no noise was coming out. Both Bluefeather and Tight Loop ignored her. “We do have a number of cute adult onesies in stock too, along with a line of toys.” She leant forward conspiratorially, “Not all of which are children friendly.”

“Okay that's kinda awesome,” commented Cyclone, who was still about the most embarrassed she'd ever been in her life.

“Chains?” again, Bluefeather spoke like Cyclone wasn’t there.

“What type?”

“Lightweight to use with clamps and such.”

Tight Loop pointed again, “Aisle two.”

“Thank you!” Bluefeather tapped Cyclone's shoulder. “Come along, Brat.” When she walked further into the store, Cyclone hurried to keep pace with her, rolling by her side. Bluefeather started with aisle two. “Wow, there are a lot of different chains. I didn't even notice these when we bought the clamps. Rings too. Four of those and what type of chain would you not mind being seen in public?”

“Um...that gold one's pretty cool, the links look nice and functional,” Cyclone looked over the ones on offer, “Not too many swirly bits.”

Bluefeather gathered up half a dozen chains in that colour, “Now to aisle three.” On one side of the middle of aisle three was all AB/DL things. “Look at all the onesies,” she breathed out as she moved over to the variety of creams.

“Yeah, I'm looking. They have a lot, huh?” the wheelchair bound athlete scanned the onesies on the shelves, it was like being surrounded by a pastel explosion, “Never knew there were so many shades of pink!”

“It is a hard shade to get on your cheeks,” commented Bluefeather with a smirk, “This cream will protect you from rash for up to five hours and masks any smell for public use. This other cream enhances the smell to highlight the stinker in the crowd.”

Cyclone giggled, “You always know when I'm blushing, Mistress,” she then took in what Bluefeather had said, and it was obvious she was doing just that.

“This one I don't want,” Bluefeather threw one cream back on the shelf, “Simulates diaper rash even in a clean and dry diaper. We're getting the smell suppression one. Pick out two onesies, but not in the shade of pink you have.”

“Why on earth would you want to stimulate that?” asked Cyclone incredulously, “It hurts like a bitch!” she surveyed the onesies on offer, and eventually she went for a yellow and a cream one.

“O. M. G.!” exclaimed Bluefeather and without warning, she grabbed Cyclone and dragged her and the wheelchair over to a section labelled 'Nappy Covers' and she pointed excitedly. “Power Pony nappy covers!”

“Oh wow! Are these for real? They're amazing!”

Happily, Bluefeather started putting them on Cyclone's lap. “There are eight of them, two Saddle Rager and one Hum Drum along with ones of the rest of the characters, “Do you want them all?”

“Yes please Mistress. Oh,” Cyclone added, “I did see these things by the onesies, cotton mittens that you Velcro on around the wrist. They must be new.”

Bluefeather thought about that for a moment, “Right now I don't want to take your hands away. Maybe something to add as our play progresses.”

“You're right. Baby steps!” Cyclone snickered at her own bad joke.

“Okay, I’ll get a couple of new pacifiers, and this,” Bluefeather giggled, “Pacifier gag is a must. Oh, and these baby bonnets. One to match what you got and what you're wearing now.”

“A pacifier gag? Now that is definitely new.”

“I think AB/DL is going mainstream,” commented Bluefeather nonchalantly, “Now let's take a look at the crib pamphlet.”

“Do they really need so many cribs?” asked Cyclone as her girlfriend opened it up and showed her the options on offer. “Surely all you need is 'crib', and you're done?”

“Some of these look more like cages than cribs.”

“Yeah, especially that one there,” Cyclone didn’t really like the one she referred to. It looked oppressive, just like a cage. She didn’t like it much. “That looks kinda scary, like if the Child Catcher had a kid, that’s what he’d keep it in.”

Obliviously, Bluefeather missed the reference that Cyclone made, but she laughed at it anyway. “Y'know, from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The scary dude? The one I really hate and you have to hold my hand when it's on?”

Bluefeather nodded her head, but she also smiled, because she vaguely recalled the hook nosed guy with a net dressed all in black. “I like holding your hand when you're feeling unsafe.”

Automatically, Cyclone reached up and she took hold of Bluefeather's hand, “Just thinking about that douchebag makes me feel unsafe.”

Bluefeather did like the way Cyclone holding her hand like that made her feel. Like she needed to be ‘nana’d’ and taken care of, and she was the one to do it. Bending at the waist, she gave Cyclone a very sound kiss. “You'll be safe with me, brat.”

“Mmmmm I needed that, a lot.”

“To the checkout!”

Chapter 4 - Home Sweet Mistress

“So uh, are you gonna explain the pee?” asked Cyclone, whose voice was somewhat muffled and slurred by Bluefeather's grey feet which were still planted firmly on her face, “You're pretty chill with it on your face,” she pointed out as she nuzzled those sexy feet.

Giggling, Bluefeather rubbed her soles over her girlfriend’s face, smooshing her cheeks and her nose between her toes and the balls of her feet. “I knew the risks going in that you wouldn't have good bladder control. I'm not going to do you wearing a nappy, so I decided it didn't matter if you pissed on me or not. When we did nappy play, you never really used them, well that will change too!”

“And you have the sexiest feet I've ever seen,” Cyclone planted several wet kisses all over Bluefeather’s feet, worshipping her arches and her toes, before she let out a nervous giggle, “I've kinda wanted to try kissing them for ages, but I chickened out before.”

Bluefeather adjusted her position and laid alongside her girlfriend on the bed, “I think I'll stay from your groin up myself. It’s a good thing my feet aren't ticklish…”

“So...you don't think it's weird?”

Considering that for a moment, Bluefeather took careful note of the fragility and vulnerability in Cyclone’s voice. It wasn’t often her brat showed that side of herself, so she knew to handle it with care. “You, love,” she said carefully, “Are weird, then I'm weird, so I guess we're normal?” she finished her point by hugging Cyclone tightly.

“I'll go with that,” Cyclone hugged Bluefeather to her and she kissed her lips, “The past month taught me not to hold back on stuff, cos life is short and shit happens.”

Laughing at her lover’s rather crass philosophical view on life, Bluefeather found herself agreeing with her, at least in spirit if not in the exact wording, “And I'll clean that up to. No issues.”

Smirking, Cyclone playfully booped Bluefeather's nose, “I didn't mean that kind of shit,” then, with a dawning realisation, she got the joke, “You know what I mean.”

Again, Bluefeather laughed, because she swore she could see the gears turning in Cyclone’s head as she got her joke. “I do know what you meant, but it was funny when I said it.”

“So um, if you want,” Cyclone started nervously, her blue eyes looking everywhere in her room except at the teenager laid beside her, “I'd love to do that with your feet again. If you wanted to. And uh...what you did was cool too.”

The sheer nervousness and open vulnerability that Cyclone was presenting to her made Bluefeather’s heart melt. It was so adorable to see. “You mean making my hand disappear?”

“Better than one of Trixie's magic tricks,” Cyclone tried to cover her nerves with a joke and a giggle, “I’ve never been fisted before.”

“You've never had this ease of access before,” countered Bluefeather, making the very good point. “I love you, Cy, and I'm going to use what you have to the best of both our worlds.”

“Well, I can't argue that. I know you mentioned doing it a while back,” Cyclone admitted with a blush, “And I kinda shut it down. I’m glad you did it now though, it felt amazing!”

“Experiences change,” Bluefeather said with a wisdom beyond her years, “And I'll change to make sure you still experience all of me. So, I think I'll let you have my toes,” she leant in and whispered in her girlfriend’s ear, “If you're a good girl.”

“I can be a good girl!” instantly, Cyclone caught the sceptical look on Bluefeather's face, “I can! Well...maybe less of a brat, any way…”

A grey finger on her lips silenced Cyclone. “Don't change for me, my lovely brat.” Then, she gave voice to a thing that had occurred to her during the incredibly hot sex she had just had, “Would you like me to be a disciplining nanny?”

That made Cyclone think. As much as she ever thought about anything. She thought about how dominant Bluefeather had been while she had been rubbing her feet over her face. She immediately decided she wanted more of that. “I would very much love you to be a disciplining nanny.”

“I thought you might,” Bluefeather smirked knowingly, able to read her girlfriend like an open book, “True Heart said she kept a firm hand and you stayed focused.”

That sounded like True Heart to Cyclone. “So the camp commandant hired a helper, huh?” the black skinned teenager giggled, “We'll have to get you a uniform from the MiAC store.”

Bluefeather was down with that, though probably not the visit to the mall, “Leather is very fashionable.”

“So...here's an idea,” started Cyclone, “You want to get a shower, get dressed and take a walk to the mall?”

Quickly, almost too quickly, Bluefeather shook her head. “This is your first day home. I'm sure your parents know you're alive. Enjoy exploring the home built for you. And pass that driving class. Your car is way cooler than mine.” All that said, Bluefeather really didn’t want to take Cyclone back to the mall yet. Too soon.

“You're right,” Cyclone didn’t want to argue with her, “It probably is too soon. I was thinking of the whole 'get back on the horse' thing. I totally wasn't thinking about Exploding Ninja Pirates From Outer Space 4, at all…”

A roll of her eyes from Bluefeather said she didn’t believe her. That dumb franchise was the other thing she was forced to endure, as well as Power Ponies. “If we walk out like this is your dad going to take pictures?” way to change the subject!

“Well...he said he doesn't want me in the magazine,” pondered Cyclone out loud, more to herself than to her girlfriend, “But I wouldn't put it past him to take pictures for our benefit.”

“Pfft,” Bluefeather snorted dismissively, “Bathrobes for the both of us. If we want pictures for us, I’ll let him take them.”

Again, Cyclone wasn’t about to argue with her, “Bathrobes it is, babes.”

“Bathrobe for me, you can do as you please,” Bluefeather hopped off the bed and slipped on a spare bathrobe hanging off the back of the door and she waited for Cyclone to catch her up, “You are the exhibitionist.”

“When you look this hot, it’s a shame to cover it up,” Cyclone responded as she slid herself off the bed and into her chair, a move she was getting really good at now. Before she opened the bedroom door though, Bluefeather instead opened the adjacent bathroom door like she was a professional doormen as she wanted to see Cyclone’s reaction.

“Thank you, babes,” Cyclone wheeled herself across her bedroom to the open door and she was immediately impressed, “Wow!”

What greeted her was a wall mounted sink, which was lower than normal with no vanity underneath so that a wheelchair could roll right up to it. There was a standard toilet/bidet with rails, and a walk in tub/jacuzzi that had a mesh seat at the foot of the tub inside it and a rail for the seat along the foot and back side of the tub to make easy reach of the shower head and controls.

Cyclone wheeled herself inside and her head was on a swivel trying to look at everything all at once. “I'll say again, wow! Look at all this!” she moved herself under the sink and looked around the walk in tub.

“Everything’s designed for independence,” commented Bluefeather, “But since I'm here I'm going to clean you up before we venture back out into the house. Shower or bath?”

About to ask why she wanted to clean her, Cyclone caught a whiff of herself and she knew why. They both stank of sex and sweat, though she reeked a great deal more. “I would love a real proper bath.”

“You can open the door for easier access, unless you’re comfortable to use the rails to go over the side,” explained Bluefeather as she removed her robe and hung it on the back of the bathroom door.

Expertly, Cyclone parked herself up at the side of the tub and, “Watch this!” she used the hand rails to get in over the side with a sigh of relief. The last time she said 'watch this' she had tripped in a race and ate track, coming in stone dead last.

As soon as she was in the tub, Bluefeather held up a bottle of bubble bath soap in the shape of a Power Pony, because of course Cyclone’s things were Power Pony shaped. “Look, I’ve got Mr. Bubbles!” she had no idea who the character was, “Get the water started.”

“Yes ma'am, you know I love me some bubbles!” Cyclone giggled and she quickly got the hot water running. While she did that, Bluefeather added a good amount of bubble bath and she set up some towels. She then got in with her. “Now this, I missed,” the black skinned girl snuggled up to her lover, “Bath times just weren't the same with a nurse who's as wide as she is tall and solid muscle too.”

Giggling, Bluefeather was only too happy to snuggle up to Cyclone in the hot bubbly water. She had missed this, too, not just the physical sex, although that was awesome, she missed this, too, just being with the girl she loved. “So, you want me to get a sponge?”

“I do want you to get a sponge,” having said that though, Cyclone didn’t let her go. While she lacked the ability to say just how much she had missed just being with Bluefeather, now she was there in the bath, she wanted to hold her forever.

Luckily, Bluefeather was fluent in ‘Cy Body Language’, and she knew just what the iron hard grip on her meant.

~ ~ ~

“Dinner's ready!” Monsoon shouted up from the kitchen just over a couple of hours after Cyclone and Bluefeather’s bath had concluded. She had of course asked the teenager to stay, and she had been overjoyed when she had agreed.

Bluefeather was too eager to stay for dinner. Not only did she want to spend more time with Cyclone, but Monsoon was an excellent cook, and she wasn’t about to pass that up. “Hey,” she nudged Cyclone on the bed, “You wanna race down the stairs?”

“You’re on!” Cyclone, who was at last dressed in her denim shorts and a loose tee – not her idea, Bluefeather had ‘suggested’ she wear at least something – slid herself from her bed and into her chair, where she wheeled herself to the chair lift. “On three!”

On three it was. The race began with Cyclone setting off the chair, then Bluefeather ‘raced’ her down the stairs walking backwards keeping pace with her, but right at the bottom, just before the end, she jumped off and won. While the chair was still reaching the end, Bluefeather was dancing a victory dance and waiting to see how Cyclone would react.

Cyclone, who did not like to lose at anything, even games of Snakes and Ladders, sat wide eyed at the apparent betrayal. Then, seeing the happy look of victory on her girlfriend’s face, she blinked once then twice, then she grinned. “Nicely won, babes!”

Smiling a smile a mile wide, Bluefeather hugged Cyclone tight. “When you're on the short track, your teammates will be doing that to you. You going to be okay with that?” she asked, though she fancied she knew the answer to that. It wasn’t that long ago that Cyclone would have had a ten minute meltdown at losing like that.

“Yeah,” Cyclone disengaged herself from the lift and she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. That old familiar burning tantrum feeling was bubbling in her gut, but somehow, for some reason, she didn’t let it go like she would have before. “I mean, it'll sting, sure, but, I'll be fine.”

Bluefeather could see the fight in her girlfriend’s eyes, and she gave her a kiss to show how proud she was of her growth. “Captain Dash told me and she'll tell you. She going to turn you into a distance racer,” appreciatively, she ran her hands along Cyclone's developing biceps and triceps, “You'll need to keep working on these beauties.”

Cyclone flushed hard at Bluefeather groping her arms, “We-Well....I-I um...” she stammered, “I've never been one for greater distances than eight hundred metres, but there is the five thousand and the ten thousand metre races.”

“Time will tell,” Bluefeather affectionately stroked her fingers over the black muscle, “But I'll always believe in you.”

“I believe in you fondling my arms…” Cyclone couldn’t resist, and predictably Bluefeather blushed at being called out like that.

“Brat.” Bluefeather shrugged, trying to play it off, “Jocks, gotta love them when they’re as cute as you.”

Making their way through the house to the dining room, Cyclone found that her spot at the table was a small platform with a ramp that put her at just the right height and the others were in chairs. Bluefeather of course was sat next to Cyclone, as Monsoon and Tropical Storm bought out platter after platter to feed them. “Oh, steak, that looks good, ma'am.”

“Food!” Cyclone clapped her hands at the arrival of trays full of hot steaming food. She wondered briefly why her mom and dad were doing it, then she just assumed the staff had been given the night off. “Real actual food! And it's not in a tiny white tray!”

“Sorry,” grinned Tropical Storm mischievously, “We only have placemats. I hope you'll still be able to eat without a white tray.” That earned him a very noisy eye roll from Monsoon and a giggle from Bluefeather.

“Ha, ha, dad, very funny,” Cyclone looked around like she expected True Heart to appear from a side room and start feeding her like she had done in the hospital, “Mom, food me up.” After a moment of nothing being done and no movement taking place, she added, “Please.”

When Cyclone said the magic word, Monsoon happily served up a generous helping of baked sweet potatoes, slices of medium rare steak and a ladle of cheesy broccoli on the plate. Not only did she serve her daughter but Bluefeather and Tropical Storm as well. “We may need to do something about soundproofing the rooms, Storm.”

“You know what,” there was a cheeky glint in the man’s eyes, “I think you’re right, my love, we don’t want the neighbours complaining about the noise.” The deep blush that adorned Bluefeather’s cheeks was utterly adorable.

Cyclone laughed, for the closest ‘neighbours’ were half a block away, “Come on, dad, you can’t blame Blue for being loud when she rides 'this' storm!”

While Monsoon and Tropical Storm both laughed, poor Bluefeather blushed harder until her grey face was almost completely bright red. “Dig in, you two,” she beamed affectionately, particularly to Bluefeather, “Or I'll think you don't like my cooking.”

As soon as her mother said that, Cyclone began to eat like she had been starved on a desert island for a month. Bluefeather ate at a rather more refined pace than Cyclone, who was shovelling in the food like an excavator. “I think I need to up my game,” Tropical Storm grinned, “It’s easier to tease my daughter's girlfriend than it is to tease her.”

Monsoon not only rolled her eyes, but she also shook her head this time too. “Some things never change.”

Looking for any chance she could to get the attention away from herself, Bluefeather said, “You wouldn't think she'd been fed at the hospital, would you?” she giggled, but still blushed while the oblivious Cyclone hoovered her food down.

The good food was followed by and even better chocolate mousse for dessert. Once she was all done, Cyclone let loose with a window shaking burp that was her judgment on the meal. “Excuse me!” she giggled, completely unashamed.

In a stark contrast, Bluefeather daintily placed her spoon into her empty bowl, “I do believe that is the Cy seal of approval.”

“Do you need a ride home Blue?” asked Tropical Storm as he and his wife began to clear away the empty dishes.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I could let my folks know I'm spending the night?”

Tropical Storm and Monsoon both shared a look and a nod between them. “One less thing to worry about,” he agreed, seeing no problem with her staying over.

“That just means you can work without interruption, Storm,” commented Monsoon over her shoulder as she carried away an armful of empty bowls and spoons to the kitchen.

After she had wiped her face clean on a napkin, “What are you working on, dad?”

“I’m finalising a spread for the next Playcolt edition called Bondage Babes of Kappa Alpha Theta,” explained Tropical Storm, “I’m using stills taken from the DVD we shot over the last week.”

Monsoon poked her head around the kitchen door frame. “He’s only using that title because I was a member of the KAT house.” By way of explanation, her husband just smiled in his seat.

“But were you a bondage babe, mom?” smirked Cyclone, asking the important question of her mother.

“No dear, I’m afraid not,” called Monsoon from the kitchen where she had loaded the dirty dinner dishes into the dishwasher, “I had other more pressing activities at college.”

“I have the pictures to prove it...” Tropical Storm didn’t elaborate further because his wife had silenced him with the ‘Wife Glare’. Instead, wisely, he chose to help her clean up in the kitchen.

Even Cyclone, dense as she was, recognised 'that' glare. “Oookay...moving on, bondage is that thing you do with the collars and whips, right?”

Monsoon decided to let her husband carry on cleaning everything away in the kitchen while she went back to the dining room. “Do you know what BDSM stands for?” she asked as she sat back down at the table.

“I do!” Bluefeather thrust her hand up like she was in class and the teacher had called on her to answer a nastily hard question, “It stands for Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism.”

Cyclone blinked dumbfoundedly at Bluefeather, her mouth hanging open like she was going to say something and it got stolen away from her on the way from her brain to her lips. “I-Is that really what it means?”

“You’re close,” Monsoon corrected her gently, “It’s three things, each a pair of letters. The first has nothing to do with collars and whips, the last has to do with whips. The middle is collars. It really means Bondage and Discipline, Domination and Submission, Sadism and Masochism.”

“Hmm,” Bluefeather pondered that, “I guess it’s easier saying BDSM than saying BDDSSM,” she said with a giggle in her voice.

Again, Cyclone stared at her girlfriend like she had three heads. “How do you know that, Blue?” Three heads and she was suddenly bright pink. “Hey, dad,” she called to the kitchen, “Are the people you shoot really into it, or like, they say they are for the pay check? Or can you even tell the difference? Does it even matter?”

“A bit of both,” he replied, along with several clanks and bangs that was him wrestling with the dishwasher, “But all of them are in my line of work for a pay check, Cy.”

“Because you find romance novels dull, you brat.”

Monsoon gazed at Bluefeather like she was seeing her for the first time, “You read Woodiwiss?”

“Oh yeah!”

With the enthusiasm in Bluefeather and her mother’s voice, Cyclone couldn’t help but feel invisible all of a sudden. Guessing she wouldn’t be missed, she wheeled herself into the kitchen. She needed to talk to her dad. “So huh, that discipline, the uh, dominance and submission, that's normal, right dad?” she asked awkwardly, “Suppose someone had ideas about it, just suppose...”

Tropical Storm, who was busy scrubbing the dishes that were too dirty to go straight into the dishwasher, turned to his daughter. “Normal is a point of view. Fantasies are normal. Everyone has them, Cy.” Her body language gave away her blush, “Acting out the fantasy can, or cannot, be normal. Forcing your fantasy on another is not normal. Sharing with another is. Do you have a fantasy you want to share with someone, or just force it down their throat?”

“I'm a jock, not an idiot, dad.” Cyclone replied defensively, “It's one I want to share, it's just...well, I didn't know I felt this way about this till earlier, like a few hours earlier.”

Smiling, Tropical Storm handed the dishes to Cyclone to put in the dishwasher. “I hope it's not leg wrestling.”

“Oh ha de ha, Captain Funny, not…” she started to load the dishwasher, “It's not leg wrestling, genius, it's Blue.”

“Duh.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone rubbed the back of her head and found literally anything in the kitchen more interesting that looking at her dad, “Well um, namely Blue dominating and disciplining me.”

Recognising his daughter was being completely genuine and vulnerable, Tropical Storm nodded, deciding not to tease her, for once. “If you go that way, you need to be very clear in what you expect, want, and desire. Then make sure you tell that to Blue.”

Quietly, Cyclone considered that. It was what she wanted, but was it what Bluefeather wanted? Once the washer was loaded, she decided there was no time like the present. “Hey babes, are you ready to go up?”

When no response came from the dining room, Tropical Storm asked, “What nefarious activity were they up to when you left?”

“Talking about boring books with no pictures in them,” Cyclone answered with a disinterested shrug, “I figured it was egghead stuff, that's why I came to talk to you.”

“Trust me, Monsoon was never into egghead books.”

“Mom mentioned someone called Woodiwiss,” another shrug came from Cyclone, “You know me dad, if it's not comics, I assume the worst.”

With a deep sigh, Tropical Storm facepalmed, “Oh gods, bodice rippers. Those novels are so cheesy they make our scripts look good,” he started laughing, “Now you need to find out if Blue wants to dominate or be dominated.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do, dad. Now uh,” she asked, trying not to be awkward in it, “Should I be tactful about it, or should I be me?”

“Be you, but not in the dining room. She is staying the night.”

“I was going to wait till we were upstairs, dad.”

“You? Reserved?” Tropical Storm laughed at the totally adorable pout on his daughter’s face. “Come on, let's save your girlfriend from your mom,” he grabbed a blunt butter knife. “Just follow my lead.”

“Yes, me!” Cyclone raspberried her dad and she wheeled herself after him back into the dining room.

As he left the kitchen, Tropical Storm began to monolog like he was on a Saturday morning cartoon, “The villain saunters into the room twirling his moustache. What is this? Monsoon, how dare I find you courting this harlot! The villain pulls out a knife!” he brandished the butter knife like it was a longsword. “That bodice you are wearing looks far to uncomfortable. Allow me to release you of that!”

“No, it is not what it seems,” Monsoon quickly stood up and declared just as overdramatically as her husband, “Spare me!” she fled from the dining room giggling with him in hot pursuit.

Left sat in her seat, Bluefeather wore an amused look on her face as surely as she wore her knee length skirt and her shirt. “I rather like your parents, Cy.”

Shaking her head, Cyclone giggled, because she could still hear her parents running around the mansion playing their game. “And people think I'm immature. They never wonder where I get it from.”

Giggling along, Bluefeather added, “It was fun talking to your mom about things you wouldn't do.”

“Like what?”

Bluefeather’s giggles gave way to a bright smile, like a spider who had caught her latest prey. “Reading without pictures.”

Cyclone pouted, realising that she had wheeled herself right into that. “Fine, you got me there. So uh, you ready to go upstairs, babes?” she was ready, she just hoped she was able to actually talk to her properly and not mess it all up. She was very good at that.

Smirking, Bluefeather put the back of her hand across her forehead in a very good imitation of Monsoon, “That dreadful villain called me a harlot! I fear I don't have the strength to walk!” she playfully staggered from the chair and flopped dramatically in Cyclone's lap.

“Let's away then, my sexy harlot!” Cyclone snickered and, more than happy to play her part, she wheeled her way through the house to the stairs and the chairlift.

On the way, Bluefeather whispered, “Just don't hit my head on a door frame, okay?”

“Deal,” extremely carefully, Cyclone secured her wheelchair in the lift and she rode it with Bluefeather up to her bedroom. “Blue,” she said with a serious tone, “Babes, I need to talk to you.”

Planting a soft and delicate kiss on Cyclone’s lips, Bluefeather slipped out of her girlfriend’s lap so she could stand back up. “That sounds serous. Something from you and your dad in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, I mean, kinda,” Cyclone rubbed the back of her head in order to get her thoughts in some kind of order, “Something I've been thinking about since we did it on the bed.”

“What, you want to do it somewhere other than the bed? My, my. Adventurous.”

“Well, yeah, but that's not what I wanna talk about, but it is, but...” Cyclone snorted out a breath of frustration and she rubbed the back of her neck again, “The thing is...” she looked down at her knees and suddenly her mouth was all dry. Why was this so damn hard?

Taking a little bit of pity on her wheelchair bound lover, Bluefeather bent over and kissed Cyclone deeply on the lips. “Love, just let the words out. We can sort them after.”

Encouraged, Cyclone closed her eyes and a deep breath later, a torrent spewed out, “I want you to dominate me and humiliate me, make me crawl to kiss your feet and be used as your seat!” the girl’s blue eyes were wide and she was breathing hard after all that in one go.

After listening to that, Bluefeather spent a good thirty seconds thinking, ‘This is more than just the AB/DL thing we did those few times…’

For Cyclone, the silence seemed to drag on forever and ever, it sounded like a judgemental silence, and it was deafening. “Say something?” she practically squeaked as she continued to look down at her knees. “I know, I'm a freak, we can pretend I didn't say anything, and just snuggle, go sleep!”

Bluefeather though didn’t want to pretend she hadn’t heard anything. To stem the tide of her girlfriend’s doubt, she pressed her fingers against Cyclone's mouth. “I said we'd sort the words after they fell out. You're a brat, Cy, but now is not the time to be one.” She sat and gathered her thoughts in order, “I've been your nanny and I've taken care of you. What I want to know is, is this something you've thought about, or is it because of this?”

Cyclone was so astounded that her girlfriend was even willing to listen to her that she didn’t notice at first that she was tapping her useless legs. “No no no!” she said quickly, “I have thought about it, I promise! Look, I know I wasn't really submissive and all that before, but when True Heart started the physiotherapy in the hospital, she was so dominant, I mean, easily dominant. After a few days it was a thrill to obey her, to push myself and please her. And if I didn't push, she'd be all discipline...” thinking back to those days made her heart race, “Earlier, when you said should you be a disciplinarian nanny, it was so hot, and when you said I should crawl to please you...I would crawl a mile to please you, babes. And when you had your feet on my face, like I was your foot washer, and when you sat on my face...fuck it was so hot!”

In a very self-assured manner, Bluefeather placed her fingers back on her brat’s lips, effectively shushing her without saying a word. “Well,” she smiled, “That was a lot of words. Did True Heart use anything other than her voice to discipline you?” she removed her fingers.

Cyclone recognised the gesture as her permission to speak. “No, babes, her words were enough, to do punishing and rewarding things. When she said she was disappointed, it really felt like a slap, y’know?”

“What if I used more than just words to discipline you?” asked Bluefeather, who had to admit that the direction the evening was taking was making her extremely wet and aroused.

“That would be cool, Blue.”

“Just so you know,” Bluefeather warned her, “Everything I know came from some really trashy romance novels.”

“You mean the books without pictures you teased me about?” Cyclone smiled while her girlfriend pouted ever so slightly, “Look, I know it's a lot to just dump on you, and if it's not your thing, it's cool, just say, and we’ll do snugglings.”

Without another word, Bluefeather stood up ramrod straight and she walked over to the foot of the bed. “I'm wondering about two things,” she said without turning round, “Why aren't you on the bed, and why are you still dressed?” she accentuated the last word with a level look over her shoulder.

Wide eyed, Cyclone blinked once then twice as the words washed over her. “I'm sorry ma'am!” she quickly wheeled herself over to the bed, and there she tugged off her tee shirt and, when she was topless, she lifted herself onto the bed, and she removed her jean shorts and panties.

“Scoot yourself closer to the headboard, brat.” She was pleased to see she was quickly obeyed, when Cyclone moved herself closer to the wall on her back. When she was satisfied she was in position, Bluefeather stepped up onto the bed and she walked up until Cyclone's head was between her bare feet. She placed her hands on the wall to steady herself and she lifted her left foot to Cyclone's mouth. “Lube me up, brat.”

“Yes ma'am,” without further ado, the black skinned teenager wet her tongue with as much saliva as she could and she stuck it out, where she started to drag it over Bluefeather's wiggling toes. After that, she lifted her head a little and she sucked on them one after the other.

“Make it sloppy, brat,” ordered the newly dominant teen, who was fully embracing her role on top.

“MmMmmmm!” murmured Cyclone who had all five toes in her mouth and she was happily using her tongue to slather her spit and drool all over them. A few solid minutes of toe sucking later, Bluefeather's foot was dripping ropes of saliva.

Happy her foot was sufficiently lubricated, Bluefeather pulled it away and she made sure to keep it raised as she slid her hands down the wall into a crouch. “I got my hand in you earlier, now let’s see if I get a foot in…” she used her big toe to separate Cyclone’s labia and she tried to work the foot into her pussy. The best thing, from her point of view, was that Cyclone was always loose at the opening.

“No way...your foot?” Cyclone, who was as slow as ever, looked up at her dominant girlfriend towering above her, “Is it working? Has it gone in?”

Bluefeather was aware she looked like a bit of a contortionist. She didn’t let that stop her. “The big toe is in; I’m just wigging to get more toes inside you.”

The mental image was not lost on Cyclone. “God that's so hot, Blue!”

“I’m not done with you yet,” said Bluefeather, whose whole body was wigging above her brat. “Three toes are in; the rest should be easy.”

“I can't believe you've got three toes inside me!” squealed Cyclone, for just the image alone was turning her on. She couldn't feel it, but she was lubing up her dominant's foot for a second time.

One firm push later and… “And I’m all in,” she reported, “But I can't get my foot to go too deep. Saying that, it does look hot from here.” She was a little disappointed. She wanted to reach the G spot but it wasn't happening, no matter how she tried to angle her foot or wiggle her toes.

“Heh,” Cyclone snickered, “I bet it does, wearing me like a shoe.”

With a loud, lewd squelching noise, Bluefeather pulled her foot out of her brat’s snatch and she slid back up the wall so she could bring her wet foot to Cyclone's mouth. “Clean up on aisle foot.” The wiggling toes said ‘now’ for her.

“Yes ma'am!” willingly, Cyclone opened her mouth and she didn't bother with the licking foreplay, she went straight to sucking on toe after toe, and then she ran her tongue between each and every one. Above her, Bluefeather didn't make it easy as any time her toes were free, she rubbed them and her wet foot over Cyclone's face before returning them to her mouth. “Mmmm pppfft...pphbbt mmmm!” was all Cyclone could ‘say’. After a few rounds of licking and sucking like that, her jet black face was covered in a sheen of her own spit.

Looking down at her footwork, Bluefeather laughed, “You are such a mess…” she then moved her wet foot down to play with both of Cyclone's tiny little breasts, where she tweaked the nipples between her toes.

On her back, Cyclone didn't care one bit about the state of her face, not when her breasts were being toyed with by her girlfriend’s toes. “Okay,” Bluefeather smirked, “This is fun. I didn't think it would be the same as a hand, and it isn't, but watching you squirm and moan makes it all worthwhile.” She then lifted her foot off of Cyclone’s breasts and the moan she got was like sweet music, “Scoot back some more so your back is against the headboard.”

Cyclone couldn’t obey quick enough. She shoved herself back a short way, so that she was half sitting up, half laying down. Bluefeather then spread Cyclone's knees apart so that she could sit her ass down as close to Cyclone's groin as she could. With her hands braced behind her, she raised both feet up to her newly submissive girlfriend’s face. “Feel free to use your hands and mouth, brat. I'll give you thirty minutes of toe time.”

After she had watched Cyclone lovingly worship her feet for a few minutes, Bluefeather relaxed and she laid back fully on the bed. For her part, Cyclone was thoroughly enjoying sucking and licking her dominant’s feet. She made sure to slide her tongue between each toe in turn. Twenty nine minutes in, she said, “Your one minute warning.”

“Mmhhhmmm!” Cyclone placed one grey foot on top of the other and she sucked on all ten toes at once for the last full minute. She could have done that all night long had she been allowed.

“Well, that was very relaxing,” Bluefeather said once the last minute was up, “May I have my feet back, please?”

“Yes ma'am, you may,” once her feet were freed, Bluefeather did a backwards roll, then she grabbed Cyclone's feet until her head was back down on the bed, and she crawled forward to snuggle and kiss her. “Mmmm that was fun, Blue.”

“No complaints from me,” smiled Bluefeather, even though her girlfriend’s kisses did taste a little like her feet.

“I take it you liked being all dominant, standing over me like that?”

“Since you like my feet so much, I thought it would be fun to dominate you with them, and it was!”

“Yeah it was! So um,” Cyclone blushed hard in her lover’s tight embrace, Is this something you'd do again?”

“Yes, but I need to work on some more variety. We can include the nappy play along with my domination. Just, well,” Bluefeather paused as something occurred to her, “Do you want more control over your body?”

“I'd be happy to give up control to you Blue, you know I trust you completely,” replied Cyclone, who had completely missed what her girlfriend had meant.

“And I'll take it,” Bluefeather let out a sigh as she realised she’d have to rephrase the question. It was worth it, because she wanted there to be no guesswork in what they were about to do. “What I'm asking is, do you want to gain control over your bladder and bowels, so a messy nappy is bad, or good?”

At last, Cyclone understood. “Ah, right, I've got you. Well, I can control it, so a messy nappy should get me punished.”

Taking a mental note, Bluefeather nodded, “Anything else I should be looking for?”

“Your suggestion of making me crawl to service you was awesome!”

An ultimate act of willpower meant Bluefeather resisted the urge to facepalm. It was like giving an over eager child a bowl full of ice cream and telling them they can only have two spoonful’s. “Yes,” she said carefully, “Dominating you isn't difficult, but I don't want to fall into a rut. I’m thinking more of what you'd expect me to notice as bad behaviour, Cy.”

“Right, bad behaviour,” Cyclone felt a bit of an idiot, “Well...excess brattishness, y'know, like when I get that bad I make you do that face you make.” Laughing, Bluefeather proceeded to make the face in question. “Yeah, that one, like Cheerilee about to give me a detention.”

Again, Bluefeather checked an item off her mental list. “So you messing the nappy, and, well, being excessively you,” she giggled, “Anything else to look out for?”

“I don't think so, not yet anyway. We can always add things later as and when we think of them.”

“Okay, so, when do I know I went too far?” asked Bluefeather, for that was one rather important thing that was weighing at the back of her mind.

“Oh!” exclaimed Cyclone, struck by a sudden inspiration, “We should have a signal for that, something simple, so we don't forget, like a word or something!” she was rather proud of her quicker than usual thinking.

“Good thing we have ‘tap my leg’ as a safe gesture for when I sit on your face,” commented Bluefeather thoughtfully, “Okay, you choose your safe word, I just need to remember what it means when you say it.”

“Gherkin.” Cyclone knew exactly the word to choose. “Seriously, you know I hate them in a burger.” The grey skinned dominant simply gave her the ‘brat face’ look, but she fell over on the bed laughing. “It's not funny! Gherkins always ruin a good burger, and I swear they put extra on to taunt me!”

“That is because I like them and you give them to me!” Bluefeather exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing ever, “Okay, if you say it, I'll know you're in trouble and I’ll stop what I'm doing.”

“Cool,” Cyclone huffed, “And let’s face it, you'd think I was insane if I said that during our sexy fun times.”

A sly look crossed Bluefeather’s face, “I don't know, maybe you want me to use one on you?”

“It'd have to be a bloody big gherkin…”

That sly look only deepened on Bluefeather’s face, “Maybe, but I could slowly eat it in front of you when I'm finished.”

And just like that, Cyclone was sold on the idea of food play, should it come up in the future. “Okay,” she grinned, enjoying the image that conjured up, “Yeah, that'd be really hot.”

Laughing, Bluefeather asked, “Would it be as hot if I stuck my toes in the gherkin jar?”

“Being made to suck gherkin juice off your feet?” Cyclone shuddered, “That's gotta be a punishment, surely?” to which Bluefeather nodded brightly, “It'd be hot though. Humiliating, but it'd be very hot too.”

“That is going to be a challenge. Humiliating you.”

“Like you've ever passed up a challenge.”

“True,” Bluefeather conceded the point with good grace, “You’re dumb enough…I mean, jock enough, to go along with anything though. I'll work on it,” she said as she idly played with Cyclone's tiny breast. “Before I get undressed, would you like some hot chocolate or ice cream?”

“Ice cream please!”

“What a great idea!” beamed Bluefeather, “I'll have two scoops, please.” She rolled herself off of the bed and very slowly she started to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, starting with the ones at the top.

“I'll be right back, Blue!” as quickly as she could, the naked Cyclone hauled herself from the bed to her chair, where she reached for her tee shirt.

Just as black fingers closed on the garment, Bluefeather stopped her from putting on the tee. “No time to waste, Cy.”

“B-Bu-But...” Cyclone stammered, for she hadn't actually been naked in front of her parents since she was born, but the way her girlfriend was looking at her said the choice wasn’t hers to make. She was good with that. “Yes ma'am!” as she left her bedroom, she found obeying her was such a thrill.

For her part, Bluefeather thought that sending her brat downstairs naked wasn’t much of a risk, given the way her parents had left the dining room. Cyclone, on her way down the stairs, figured that even if she was caught, her folks weren't going to freak out too much, so instead of worrying about getting caught, she got busy getting two bowls of chocolate ice cream, two scoops in each, on a tray on her legs and she wheeled back to the lift.

“I got ice cream babe!” Cyclone declared proudly as she made her way back into the bedroom.

Huffing ever so slightly, Bluefeather put away her phone when Cyclone entered the bedroom. “Your parents never answer the phone. I was going to tell them I thought I heard an intruder in the kitchen.”

“They're probably doing gross parent sex or something,” commented Cyclone as she passed Bluefeather her bowl of ice cream. “So that's how you play, huh? I like it.”

Taking her offered bowl, Bluefeather simply smiled a very wide unapologetic smile, “It’s a good thing what we do isn't gross.”

“But we're cute,” countered Cyclone as she helped herself to a loaded spoonful of the chocolate ice cream, “And they're old, and I don't want to think about the two of them doing it. Old wrinkly people shouldn’t be doing…that.”

Bluefeather just laughed, “That is a scary thought,” then she rested a hand on Cyclone's leg. “First night out of the hospital. How are you doing, babe?”

Swirling some ice cream around her mouth, Cyclone really thought about how she was doing. “Good. I'm doing good. I'll uh,” she looked aside and admitted, “I'll be honest, I was a little concerned how it'd go, but yeah, I'm good.”

Slowly, Bluefeather moved her hand up the leg, over Cyclone’s belly, across her small chest and finally she cupped her black cheek. There, she looked intensely into her eyes, “You 'will' let me know when it is not good. You are not alone.” She punctuated her point with a long, slow kiss.

“On the good side,” Cyclone pointed out, “I haven't had that dream for almost a week now, so um...I'm not worried about that.”

“Are you going to miss the weekly sessions? Or True Heart for that matter?”

“I will, I mean I got used to the structure, y'know?” as she spoke, Bluefeather nodded along, “And in no way am I replacing them with you. For a start you are way cuter than True.”

“Well, at least I know your eyesight is still working.”

“I mean, you could always grow an extra two feet, put on a hundred pounds of muscle and have biceps as big as Baltimare, but I love you as you are.”

“With your kink, you'd be happy if I had four feet.” Bluefeather had a smiling glint in her eye as she polished off her ice cream. The lusty look on her submissive girlfriend’s face, as well as the creeping blush, aroused Bluefeather no end. She quickly pulled her hand away from Cyclone’s cheek and blew on it. “Watching you enjoy my feet has made me think of something.”

“What's that, babes?”

“Shopping!”

“Shopping?” Cyclone asked, a little warily perhaps, “You want to go to the mall tomorrow?”

Recognising ‘that’ tone in Cyclone’s voice, Bluefeather teasingly wiggled her toes to distract her. “Yes, the mall is where I want to go. You're finally out of that hospital, and we start our senior year soon. You need a new wardrobe, and maybe a few other things.”

Bluefeather’s salacious wink was utterly lost on Cyclone. “And Exploding Ninja Pirates From Outer Space 4?” she asked, looking at her like a hopeful puppy wanting to be taken for a walk.

“Is there a matinee show?” she asked, resigning herself to having to ‘endure’ the awful cheesy B movie. Bluefeather decided to make her work for it by directing her submissive to get back on the bed, and when she was laid down, Bluefeather removed her skirt and her panties, and promptly sat herself down on her face.

Taking up her phone from the night stand where she had left it, Bluefeather investigated the mall movie theatre’s web page. “Keep working down there, brat, if you want tickets,” she ordered as she felt Cyclone’s tongue slow down.

Uttering a muffled and muted, “Yes ma'am!” Cyclone resumed her given task of eating out her dominant girlfriend with a renewed vigour. She desperately wanted to go see the fourth instalment of the Exploding Ninja Pirates, but she would have done this anyway regardless.

Just as Bluefeather completed the purchase of two tickets for the two p.m. slot the next day, she was bought to a screaming orgasm. Panting hard, she lifted herself up and off her sub’s face so she could breathe. “Okay!” she sighed happily, “That performance deserved two tickets to some crazy space ninja film.” She showed her phone to Cyclone so she could see it was a done deal.

“Wohoo! Super Tongue Cyclone strikes again!” Cyclone snickered and she then giggled, especially when her lover gave her the ‘brat look' again. She did so enjoy earning that.

Kneeling above her submissive’s face, Bluefeather tapped her chin thoughtfully while her pussy juices dripped onto Cyclone’s face. “I hereby dub thee the three C's!”

“Yeah, Three C Me!” she didn’t know what it meant, but she was happy to take it. Looking up, she licked her lips as she caught another of Bluefeather’s drips. “Damn, I will never get tired of this view…”

Above her, Bluefeather snorted, “Cyclone’s Cunnilingus Cuisinart!”

“I'm so putting that on my school reports,” giggled Cyclone as she gently ran her fingers along her girlfriend’s sensitive crotch.

Murring softly at her sub’s delicate touch, Bluefeather said, “The three F's is my gig.” Underneath her, Cyclone wasn’t really listening. She leant her head up and she kissed all along her lover’s moist pussy, and then, lost in the moment, for the first time, she placed a kiss right on her anus. Above her, Bluefeather felt the touch on her backdoor and she squirmed uncomfortably and backed up out of reach. “I bet you don't even known what those three F's are.”

Correctly, Cyclone took note of the squirming and the change of position as a request to not touch her butt again, so she ventured, “Footing, Fisting and...um...Finking?”

“Well, you got part of it right, and feet is your thing,” Bluefeather swung a leg over Cyclone’s head and she laid down by her side, where she lightly tapped her nose with a closed fist, and whispered in her ear, “Fist Fucking Fury.”

Cyclone giggled along with Bluefeather, “I now need a collar with 3 C on it, and you should get a 3 F bracelet.”

“Shopping! So, am I in the guest bedroom?” Bluefeather asked with a playful teasing nibble along Cyclone’s ear.

“No, silly,” shuddered Cyclone in sheer delight at the ear nibble and the sensations it was giving her, “You're my guest, in this bedroom, duh.”

Somehow, Bluefeather managed a completely innocent voice, “But where will you sleep, my lovely brat?”

“I can always warm your feet, ma'am.”

That was what Bluefeather loved about her Cyclone. She was smart where and when it counted. “What an intriguing idea!” she declared as she kissed her lips, “I think we can start that way, but later I do want you to warm all of me.”

“Yay!” Cyclone squealed happily, “Let's get under this duvet then babes, I've got feet to warm!” True to her word, Bluefeather did allow her brat to worm her way down and curl up around and over her feet under the thick warm blanket. However, when she became sleepy, she helped her girlfriend to lay next to her, before they both fell asleep together.