Harmony University: Riding the Storm

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.”