Camp Colt

The bus was humming with a low rumble, and the brakes creaked and ground as it finally rounded the top of the hill and rolled into the clearing in front of the camp grounds. The bus’s brakes hissed as it rolled to a gradual halt.

Kettle Corn’s eyes slowly fluttered and cracked open, before snapping shut again and blocking out the sun’s light—Her head was still light and groggy from having such an early start, and her muscles were stiff from having to sit in the same position for what felt like hours.

She shifted slightly under her blanket, grumbling in her sleep. “J-Just five more minutes, mrmrms...” She smacked her lips, nose wrinkling slightly as she pulled the cover closer over her haunches. Kettle was leaning against the wall of the bus, with her cheek pressed up on the cool glass. Her ponytails were still tied up the way she’d done them last night, and underneath the blanket her clothes were feeling uncomfortable and restrictive, however she was warm.

Even as the rest of the bus started to move around her—the colts in the row behind her got up and were chatting loudly about video games in her left ear, which caused her to squeeze her eyes shut even tighter and flop her ears down to preserve her sleep just a little bit longer.

“Come on, Skeedaddle—” A brown colt huffed, a smirk on his chin as he slugged the pony next to him in the shoulder. “You have to tell me you’re going to play Neigh of the Wild as soon as you get back. It’s, like, the game of the year! Luna Gaming gave it a 15 out of 10! You know it’s good!”

The other colt—Kettle Corn presumed his name must be Skeedaddle, merely shrugged, suppressing an awkward laugh as side-stepped out into the isle to get his suitcase from the overhead shelf. “I, uh, sure, I guess?” he said.

The suitcase levitated down, making a loud creaking and scratching noise that only made Kettle’s brow wrinkle as she tried to block out the noise.

“I don’t really know, Button. I’m not a gamer like y—”

The bus was filled by a collective “Gasp!” as the bus’s doors hissed and cracked open with a clack—and the resulting clack of hooves and the booming, raspy, voice of a familiar filly was all that was needed to snap Kettle Corn out of her groggy bought of laziness.

“Ten hut, Fillies!”

Scootaloo boomed as she leapt onto the bus—Kettle Corn just nearly jumped out of her skin. Fully awake and aware of where she was, she jolted upright, almost falling right out of her seat as her eyes darted around—immediately joining in on the others as they converged on the orange filly trotting, half skipping as she fluttered her wings, up right rows of the bus.

She was brandishing a clipboard and pair of sunglasses that were most definitely too big for her as Scootaloo eyed up the new recruits. Her cutie mark—same as the other Crusaders, with that distinctive shield and loyalty wing were on full display, practically shimmering with how new it seemed as she strutted through the bus drawing attention everywhere she went.

“Welcome, welcome. Come on, fillies, let’s get a move on!” Scootaloo rasped. It sounded like she’d been practising this all morning—and right now she was nailing it. “We’ve got to get you all settled and breakfast is in an hour, so—” She glanced at her clipboard for a second before arriving at Kettle’s row.

Scootaloo turned to look down at her from under the gigantic sunglasses and Kettle Corn couldn’t help but stare with wide eyes, her eyes growing wide as dinner plates. As she came face-to-face with one of the legendary Cutie Mark Crusaders, she somehow felt small, lying crooked with her back against the window and holding onto the blue and orange blanket with embroidered mini scooters and wonderbolts over her.

Scootaloo smirked, and Kettle could have sworn she saw the filly’s eyes sizing her up. “Awesome blanket, squirt,” she said, “That yours?”

Her mouth opened and closed slightly as she worked up the courage to speak. She could barely form out a full sentence, and stead nodded sheepishly, eyes focused on Scootaloo—The Scootaloo—as she said: “Uuuh... huh.”

Scootaloo hummed, smiling. She pushed the sunglasses back up on the bridge of her nose and turned around, starting back up to the front of the bus. “Nice,” she said.

She could feel her cheeks burning red as she watched Scootaloo trotting away and out of sight. Not too long after, she was made the centre of attention as several eyes, including those of Skeedaddle and Button from the row behind, turned her way.

“Woah,” one of them said. “Scootaloo spoke to you.”

“Scootaloo complimented her!”

“That’s so awesome!”

“I bet she’s going to get her cutie mark really soon!”

“H-How does it feel?” she heard another colt ask, and turned her eyes to the source of the voice only to lock eyes with Skeedaddle. The colt immediately blushed upon seeing her staring and averted his gaze—rubbing a hoof behind his head as he did so.

It was already too late when Kettle realised, she was still staring and averted her own gaze—though nothing could stop her blush from deepening.

Why was the bus suddenly so hot all of a sudden?

~ ~ ~

The fillies’ cabin was a little shanty on the edge of the forest neatly slotted in between the mess hall and the docks, with a view of the lake to the south—Kettle Corn’s left as she approached the door from the front—with the colt’s cabin behind her, opposite the flagpole in the middle of the camp and the mess hall on her right.

Kettle Corn slugged her suitcase with her as she pulled it up the first few steps to the screen door on the front of the cabin—She was sweating and her brow was dripping as she panted and huffed— “Come...on...!” Gritting her teeth and putting her back into it, she flexed her spine and lifted the suitcase with all of her might.

The giant bag wobbled on the corner of the step before sliding up just enough. Kettle’s whole body slid back with the weight of the suitcase as it finally crested the edge and slumped with its weight against the floorboards.

Leaving the suitcase to sit where it was, she took a step back to wipe her brow—huffing as she admired the results of her hard work. She was sweating and sticky all over, and the heat of the sun spilling over her from the edge of the veranda wasn’t helping very much.

Across from her, at the boy’s cabin—The shouting of other colts could be heard as they unshuffled their baggage from the bus, and her ears twitched, pulling away from the annoying din. At the entrance to the cabin, she couldn’t help but stare as the lanky colt from before. What was his name?

Her brow furrowed.

Skeedaddle.

Skeedaddle was lugging a suitcase similar to hers up the same kind of steps—It was almost like looking in a mirror, except of course he was a colt with a different colour of coat, and a very handsome, scruffy mane. The pale blue was a definitive contrast to her lively peach, and his mane, short-cut and messy was nothing like her cute pigtails.

As Skeedaddle moved around his suitcase pulling and pushing, she momentarily got a glimpse of his behind—small and pert. His tail was cut short, which of course left very little to the imagination. Kettle Corn felt her mouth-watering as she stared at the colt on display from a distance. His balls twitched as his thighs rippled with every step he made back and forth, heaving and pushing at the suitcase.

The sweat on his coat made it glisten, and Kettle Corn nonchalantly flipped her mane with a hoof, wrapping the right ponytail around the tip of her frog as she played with it—

She didn’t immediately notice, but as soon as Kettle Corn saw Skeedaddle looking back at her she averted her gaze, finding the dock—dock—the deck’s floorboards suddenly infinitely more interesting.

Her cheeks burned blushing slightly, and she felt the unusual feeling in her belly that her mother had warned her about—it was like a hot furnace burning in the pit of her stomach, and she was sweating, expect the sweat felt thick and extremely warm as it trailed down the insides of her legs.

Mother of Luna, all mighty Night Mother was this ‘heat’ thing annoying.

Her tail had started to flag again so Kettle immediately clamped it back between her legs, and turned to busy herself with looking at her suitcase again and flipping the zippers.

Once the sensation started to subside and her breathing slowed, she was finally able to relax and look up again—Skeedaddle had walked away, and she presumed he had gone inside to get help with his suitcase, given the bag was still sitting in exactly the same place as before, wedge between the middle and upper step blocking entry to anypony else trying to get through.

In fact, there were already at least three other colts lining up at the door above the steps, waiting for somepony to come and move the suitcase so they could get through—one of them even attempted to climb over it, before being swatted on the ear by his senior.

Kettle Corn snickered. Colts.

“Okay, Kettle...” She huffed and took a deep breath, letting her dock muscles relax. Her tail flagged again, but it twitched and quickly righted itself, lying flat again with the hairs covering her marehood nicely. However sticky and wet they were, nopony would notice so long as she could keep her tail down, at least. “Just a bit further,” she assured herself. Then a shower. A nice very long very cold shower.

Grabbing onto the suitcase with her mouth, Kettle Corn heaved it behind her as she bucked the screen door open.