Discoveries of a Filly's Behind

The silence was palpable.

Sweetie’s ears flicked and her nose twitched. She inhaled, pulling in a slow, shaking breath into her lungs.

The air was heavy. It was steeped in the fresh musk of sex, a scent Sweetie hadn’t known until that evening but now carried with it a keen familiarity she was unlikely to ever forget. She could make out all of the distinct components. There was the scent of her own body and the mix of a stallion’s pheromones, heavily laden by the permeating smell of fresh cum that soaked everything from her coat and the bed, to the very air itself.

It was a potent cocktail that made her mouth water, and her lips quiver.

Her fur was matted and messy, sticky with hers and Pip’s mixed fluids—to say that she was going to need a bath after this was an understatement. It was going to take hours of thorough cleaning to get back to her usual, pristine, pink and white self.

But...did she really want to?

Sweetie’s cheeks were tinged pink as she looked between herself and Pipsqueak, to the point where they were still joined. The grip she had around his pelvis had slowly loosened, and shortly after Pipsqueak came he slid off her and to the right, leaving them both on their sides, facing each other and drifting and out of sleep.

She could still feel him, though. Even as Pipsqueak rested, his dick had remained firm, solidly stuck between her lips and spreading her apart in a way she’d hardly known was possible, or that she even wanted before today.

Her entire body was trembling still. Tiny pinpricks of pleasure were dancing through her everywhere she was touched and the waves of pleasure emanating from her core washed through her, turning the heat from before into nothing more than a distant memory.

She was utterly filled, satisfied.

Not even her hoof had been this good, and the tiny voice in the back of Sweetie’s head made her wonder... After this was all over, when she finally got back into her normal body, would they still be able to do this? Granted, she’d be a lot smaller, but imagining what it must be like, to have sex—to fuck with a stallion twice her size.

Her lips quivered, and a fresh dribbling of fluids started to seep from around Pipsqueak’s member as her clit strained to peek out against the top of his shaft.

Pipsqueak flexed inside her, a momentary thrust of his hips as he re-hilted inside her, sending a jolt of electricity up Sweetie Belle’s spine.

Sweetie bit her lip as another pulse was passed into her—the last, final piece of Pipsqueak’s essence forced deep within her depths, into her very core, before the colt began to soften.

Sweetie Belle whimpered, an inch of disappointment creeping into her voice as the seal was broken. Pipsqueak’s dick retreated slowly, opening way for a torrent of seed. Tiny dribblings of white started to run down her flanks, pooling on the bed and mixing with the already matted fur of her thighs.

Pipsqueak roused, smiling as his eyes opened and settled on Sweetie Belle’s blushing face. “Hello there, Sweetie,” he said, bleary-eyed.

~ ~ ~

Pipsqueak was still hard when his mind cleared. He was sweaty and hot, and his entire body ached, but it was the good kind of ache. The kind of ache you’d experience after going to the gym, or running an extra mile at the end of the marathon.

It was the ache that you could take satisfaction in, knowing you did something right.

He could still feel the mare next to him, on him, around him. She was warm, she was tight, and more than anything—As Sweetie’s muscles flexed and tightened on his shaft, Pipsqueak’s breathing caught in the back of his throat and his entire body stiffened.

His leg muscles tightened around her and thrust, hilting in her one more time as he unleashed the last few drops of his load.

She was milking him.

~ ~ ~

“Hey there, Sweetie.”

Pipsqueak’s voice was soft and relaxed, still a little out of breath—as he panted gently into her ear—but still calm enough that she could make out his words. Sweetie had to turn her head slightly to properly see the stallion on his side in front of her, looking into her eyes with a content half smile.

She felt his hoof move, gently rubbing up the side of her shoulder, and the combined warmth of their bodies intertwined gave Sweetie a chill.

“H-Hey,” she said back. Her voice shook as she struggled to regain control of her vocal cords. It felt like it had been years since the last time she spoke, and her mouth and tongue felt dry—as if some peach-like fuzz had invaded her gums.

“How was it?” Pipsqueak asked.

The words echoed to the back of her mind and the thoughts of her getting a glass of water were quickly dismissed. The rest of her body—and the warmth of the bed—along with the feeling of something still wedged between her legs convinced her that she didn’t want to move, at least not yet.

Instead she inhaled, and exhaled, allowing herself to melt into the soft, feathery down of the pillow. She whispered, “That was amazing..." Another short breath and a smile as her eyes focused together on Pipsqueak’s own. “How did you learn to do all that?”

Pipsqueak’s brow furrowed, a slight bit of amusement creeping into his voice as he whispered back. “What do you mean?” he asked, but the following words gave Sweetie Belle pause. “You taught me, of course.”

Everything about Pipsqueak’s demeanour said this was no big deal, he practically shrugged as he said it—obviously taking this as some sort of joke—but as soon as those words left Pipsqueak’s mouth, Sweetie Belle felt her entire body tense.

The bottom of her stomach sunk, and almost didn’t have enough time to catch herself before spilling everything as her voice broke out of a whisper. “I—I did?” she asked immediately, out loud, as her head almost bounced upright from the bed.

Pipsqueak sat up as well, and somehow his eyebrows managed to rise even further as he tilted his head, confused. “Wh—”

Internally, Sweetie Belle’s mind started to whirl as the realisation hit her. She taught him? How? What? When? She’d assumed Pipsqueak was just another colt who had ended up in his older body, like her, but was he really? Was that what actually happened?

It became clear to her that this was a question she hadn’t even considered. All she knew was that she’d woken up in her older form—she assumed it was the same magic as the wishing rose had used on her and her friends, but...Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen any of her friends since going to bed last night, not had she seen Rarity, and there was something else. Something else felt off.

Pipsqueak had never used the rose, and he was somehow older too, unless this wasn’t Pipsqueak? Was this Pipsqueak? No, it had to be Pipsqueak—she had to be right in that area—But how did he get here, and older by the same age? And since when did he have his own—

The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked, and the colour drained from Sweetie’s face as she suppressed the urge to gasp.

Time travel

“But how?” she whispered.

She caught a glimpse of Pipsqueak out of the corner of her vision—who was starting to look a little concerned, and she forced a smile—suppressing a nervous snort as she said. “I—I did!” she lied. “Of course I did! That was a...

The wheels of her mind were visibly grinding as she paused to think. “a...test? Yes, a test!” She nodded quickly, placating Pipsqueak with a hoof to the shoulder. “That was a test! I wanted to see if you still remembered!”

Nice thinking, Sweetie.

She pulled him with her back onto the pillows, using a hoof to prop herself up as she smirked, nervously sweating. “So-um—Just to clarify—how did I teach you to do this, again?”

Pipsqueak blinked. “Um...okay...”

He relaxed slightly, but was still clearly on edge. She was out of the woods, for now, but Sweetie could tell she still had an upwards hill to climb—a part of her felt bad about lying to him, but she just had to know.

Pipsqueak inhaled slightly, taking his time to gather his thoughts. “Honestly, I didn’t even expect you to remember it after all of this time—” Sweetie internally cheered. So it was time travel! “—and I don’t really want you to think that this changes anything between us, but it was probably when we were in eighth grade, Cheerilee’s class, that you, um...”

Pip went silent for a moment, as a blush spread across his face.

Sweetie leaned in closer. “Uh huh, yeah, and?”

“You... kissed me. J-Just—it came out of nowhere. I’d never even thought of touching a filly before that, and then—You—You-my...” Pipsqueak went silent, looking away into the distance for a moment as he thought something to himself, then, looking back to Sweetie, he said. “Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

It was Sweetie’s turn to frown. She looked down and up Pipsqueak’s face, and nodded. “Anything. Of course.”

Somehow this only caused Pipsqueak’s cheeks to flush more red, and almost all at once gone was the confident and handsome stallion she’d met at the bar. In his place stood the same old, nerdy, sweet little colt she’d known from a day before.

Little Pipsqueak, captain of the photography club, lay before her, inches below the surface of this older stallion who was struggling to get his words to form coherently as he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. “The truth is... I love you, Sweetie Belle,” he said.

“Y-You do?”

Sweetie Belle had to do a double-take. Had she really just heard what she thought she had? The words caused a tingling sensation to run up and down her spine, like somepony had lit a match under and set her alight once more.

Almost all at once, her legs started to twitch, as if to remind her of where she was and, for a moment, she remembered who she was.

Surely he didn’t mean...

The anxiety was creeping into her voice as she spoke, hesitantly—Her voice cracked as did her smile as she said, “Y-You mean... Like a big brother?”

She went to scan his features, hopeful for a hint of mirth, but when Pipsqueak’s features changed to a frown, her hopes were dashed in all but once. “Wh-What—“ He gagged, pulling his hoof away from her in disgust, his muzzle scrunching—“No—No!” he repeated. “No, Sweetie Belle, I love you romantically!”

“R-Romantically—”

Sweetie gulped. Involuntarily moving away, the pit at the bottom of her stomach started to solidify as she inched away best she could, given the position. This was bad—With her heat thoroughly doused and the effects of the alcohol long gone, the reality of everything was starting to dawn on her. Here she was, body locked with a stallion she didn’t know—No, she did know him. This was Pipsqueak, but he was...

For the first time that night, she could get a proper look at the stallion beside her. He was handsome, yes, well-dressed? Yes. But he was also... Mature. More mature than she had been, and somehow comfortable being an...

Oh Celestia, what had she just done?

She was becoming distinctly aware of the reality of the situation she was in and it all seemed to come crashing down on her at the same time. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready. No,. This was too fast—her heart skipped a beat as a cold flush started to chill her cheeks.

She couldn’t be in a relationship. She was too young. She was a filly, just yesterday she was eight, for Celestia’s sake! She couldn’t be in a relationship with a grown stallion, not even if she could tell him that was—That she wasn’t— What would Rarity think? What would mom even say if she brought him back home with her!?

Her heart was racing and she could feel her breathing start to quicken. The panic stacks were knocking at the door and it was only when she heard Pipsqueak’s voice crack through her bubble that she remembered her position. “Sweetie Belle, are you okay?”

Pipsqueak was looking her in the eyes, with a mild sense of concern painting his features. That and a look like he was about to start crying, punctuated by his words—“Sweetie, if you don’t feel the same way, I—“

“N-No!” Sweetie squeaked—literally. Realising she’d pressed a hoof into Pipsqueak’s chest, she quickly retracted and slapped it over her mouth, if not to stop herself from saying thing stupid.

Shut up, Sweetie—No—Think. You can fix this.

But he’s so sweet, a tiny voice piped up from the back of her mind, confusing her thoughts. Confound these thoughts.

She shook her lust away, clearing her vision as she trained her eyes on Pipsqueak—who was still giving her the ‘I know we’re friends, but I’m really getting concerned right now’ look.

“I-It’s okay—” The words came out unsure, floundering. “Breathe, Sweetie”, she whispered to herself. Think what Scootaloo would do. What was her advice?

Punch him in the gut and run!

“Okay,” she whispered. What would Apple Bloom do?

Let him down all easy like. Tha’s what my sister tells me I should do, if’n stallion gets grabby.

That could work. It was worth a try, at least.

She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She laid out the words in her mind to the best of her memory, parts taken from novels she’d read, and others from descriptions she’d overheard her sister giving whenever she was talking to a particularly...clingy client.

“S-Sorry—” Sweetie apologised. No, don’t apologise! It’s him, not you! “I-It’s you, not me—“” Buck.

“What?” Pipsqueak tilted his head, visibly confused.

“I-I mean—” Sweetie grappled with her words. All of her mental notes, all of them were getting muddled. “I—I just don’t think I’m ready—“

“You’re not ready?” More confused looks.

“N-no—I mean sex—I mean yes!” Sweetie’s eyes glanced between them, where Pipsqueak’s shaft was still buried half way into her lips. The combined seed was making them sticky, not that her rising heartbeat was making it any better—she could feel her lips quiver as Pipsqueak’s heartbeat pulsed through her, comparatively slow against her own racing heart.

Luna, Dammit—She averted her eyes, trying to keep them trained on Pipsqueak’s face and nowhere else—though her legs still betrayed her as she tried to babble out the rest of her lines—“I—I don’t know I’m ready t-to be in a relationship and, and I’m too young, and—”

“You’re not ready?”

Pipsqueak’s voice was a low and steady rumble. It was calm and restrained, an effect that seemed to make it cut all the deeper—Sweetie Belle winced when she heard that, and then seeing the look in Pipsqueak’s face turn from a soft and kind, to a hurt, hurt and revealed, a mix of terrible emotions Sweetie Belle could only imagine—heartbreak

“Pipsqueak,” she offered a hoof. “I’m—”

“No” He slapped it away, tears springing from the corners of his cheeks as he pulled himself off the bed, and extracted himself from between Sweetie Belle’s legs. Pipsqueak made a motion to stand. Sitting at the corner of the bed, he paused only to look back at her. “You’re not ready. I get it.” He said. “After everything I’ve been through, I was wrong to get my hopes up. I was wrong to think after all these years of you ignoring me that you would recognise me as anything more than a one-night stint. I get it.”

“Pipsqueak, no—“ Sweetie tumped to her hooves—as Pipsqueak stood and started to trot toward the door, she dashed after him and caught his hoof at the door. “That isn’t what I meant—I didn’t want—“

“You didn’t want me? Is that it?”

“No, I—” Tears were starting to form in the corners of Sweetie’s eyes. “I still like you.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“I do!” Sweetie’s eyes glanced across the room, as if searching for the right words—She barely even registered a shadow lurking the window, just out of sight. As Pipsqueak opened the door, he tugged on Sweetie’s hoof but she held firm. Meanwhile, lights from outside flickered as a flash of lightning arced across the sky. “I really like you! Like, a lot!” Thunder rolled over Ponyville, shaking the doorframe, and water peppered the windows. “I really do!”

Pipsqueak shook his head—“Listen to yourself, Sweetie Belle. You’re twenty-six and you sound like a foal—“

“W-Well, maybe that’s because I am a foal!” Another flash of lightning and a roll of thunder cut the electricity. The words had slipped out before she could even think about it, leaving both ponies in stunned silence.

Sweetie’s jaw worked, but it was Pipsqueak’s turn to speak, as the dim glow of Sweetie’s magic took over. “You’re a...what?”

As Sweetie Belle opened her mouth there was another flash of lightning, this one indistinct from the snapping of fingers, and the lights around her were snuffed out in an instant. The last syllables to leave her mouth before disappearing:

“Yes.”