Camp Colt

“...and then...” Poppy Seed put a long pause on her story. She looked around the room with a massive shit-eating grin as she recounted the latest in her long line of stories from the day. “Then, she really did tip us over!”

The room erupted into a cacophony of giggle and laughter—much to Sweet Pop’s chagrin. Poppy Seed threw in a “We were soaked!” at the end before joining in with everypony else laughing.

Sweet Pop pouted. Still clearly very damp and flustered, she buzzed her wings and pointed an accusing hoof at Poppy Seed beside her. “Well, it’s not my fault you were throwing around the oars like that!”

“There was a bee!” Poppy seed interjected, “What was I supposed to do!?”

Sweet’s voice cracked several octaves as she squealed. “NOT smack me in the head!?”

Another wave of laughter filled the room. As several others rolled onto the floor clutching at their sides, Kettle Corn fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to summon more than a half-hearted chuckle. Her mind was still stuck on Rumble’s offer, unable to move past what she was going to do.

Her heat was still ravaging her body, to the point that she could barely sit still. Her every breath would come out hot and her entire body felt tingly and burning—She twisted her hips, the course fabric of the duvet cover sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

Her legs were aching and she could feel moisture gathering under her as she tried to sit in the same spot.

When there was another wave of laughter, Kettle Corn pretended to laugh, putting on a smile as she stole a glance below herself. She couldn’t see what was going on down there, not without being noticed, but she could feel what she knew was happening.

And she felt sticky, and wet, and—Moving her hips, the duvet cover stuck to her lips a moment before falling away. The tickling sensation of something thick and viscous forming thin ropes between her legs and the bed caused her breathing to hitch in her throat slightly.

Looking up quickly—everypony was turned away from her. Now was the chance.

“I—Uh...” Feigning a cough, Kettle Corn slid off the side of the bed, “Excuse me, girls, I have to, uh...” she said.

Poppy Seed immediately noticed her moving, and Kettle made sure to keep herself facing towards the rest of the group as she snuck past. Tail clamped hard against her underside, she was more than aware of the wet fluids sticking to her fur and tail hairs as cantered across the creaky floorboards.

“Where are you going?”

Kettle Corn heard Poppy whisper just as she was passing close by her—She immediately stopped in her tracks, suppressing the need to wince as she pulled in a tiny gasp of air.

Poppy was looking at her with curiosity. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“I’m, uh...” Kettle Corn forced herself to stand still as she thought of what to say. Her ears twitched as her tail tried to pick itself up—She promptly clamped it back down, biting her lip as she squeaked. “I have to go to the... little fillies’ room.” Her eyes brightened then. “B-But don’t wait up on me!” she said, smiling. “Y-You can tell me how it ends later, okay?”

Poppy Seed nickered. “Well okay...” she said, with a frown. Then turned away, she said: “It’s your loss...”

The very moment she was out of sight, Kettle Corn spun around and bolted for the bathroom door. She slammed it shut behind her. Her hooves were shaking as she shunted the latch into place. The light was clicked on. A dim glow cast over the small quarters as Kettle Corn slammed her body against the back of the toilet. She used the tank as support as she leaned her body against the cool porcelain.

Finally, alone, she let her tail flick high, letting release a splattering of fluids from her aching marehood. She muffled a bray with a bit of her hoof, and then panting and huffing, she focused on her breathing as she squeezed her eyes shut.

In and out, she breathed the cool air, letting her mind clear and her focus on the sensations around her to carry her through the mists of her own lust—The constant aching and empty feeling in her core were slightly offset by her arching her back and pretending for a moment that she was laid out and ready to be bred.

For a moment, she imagined she was back on that canoe, then out in the woods with Skeedaddle. The scent of the wood cabin added to the pine scent of her image, building the scenario of herself leaned against a tree-trunk with her tail in the air—Her body mirrored the actions in her mind, arching her back and flicking her tail upright until the hairs brushed against the fur on her back.

The very sensation caused a tremor to run up and down her flank. She could see herself. She was presenting her ass to him as he climbed atop her back. He knickered in her ear and bit gently as he pressed his tip against her opening. The flared forced her to part and—

She gasped. A fresh splatter of her filly juices sprayed against the floor.

Kettle Corn rolled over.

Now sitting on the seat properly, she lifted one of her legs, hooking a hoof underneath as she pulled it up to her shoulder and reached with the other to press it against her folds—Her frog was soft and gentle. It sent tingles through her filly bits as she carefully touched herself.

She was gentle at first, merely holding the soft pad against her lips—feeling the way it trembled, and the occasional flex as the lips opened against her hoof to deposit more clear fluid onto her nail and frog. Then she started slowly moving, stroking her hoof against the lips in small circles.

“Ah...” she panted. That was the spot.

Moving a bit faster, gliding the hoof up and down her folds, only slightly parting her lips to feel the slick flesh inside, she leaned back more against the tank.

From her new position, she could see her own reflection in the mirror above the basin. What she saw looking back at her was a little foal, barely 8, except her pony tails had become frayed. One of the ribbons was on the verge of coming loose whilst she held her left—reflection’s right—hind leg over her shoulder as she hoofed herself to completion.

She inhaled, gasping as a tiny orgasm jolted through her making her entire body tense. A splattering of fluid spurted out against her hoof, coating the seat in a mix of her own juices and white the white streaks of Skeedaddle’s seed.

She stayed in that position for a moment longer, gently rubbing her lips as she stared at her reflection, biting her lip, toying with the angle. Her teats, she noticed, were red and puffy. She did have a little bit of pudge, but even on top of that her teats were protruding making her look like she was pregnant. Or at least... ready to be pregnant.

For a few moments of clarity, she could hear the other fillies talking outside through the bathroom door. Though she couldn’t make out what she was saying, she could still hear Poppy Seed’s story was nearing a completion.

Hooves clomped around outside as ponies were climbing into bed, and Kettle Corn looked at her reflection once more.

As the moment of clarity passed and her heat started to rage once again, the filly that looked back at her, crimson red with a blush, nodded back. “Do it,” she said.

Kettle Corn nodded at herself. Was there any choice, really? No.

Pulling her hoof out from between her legs, Kettle Corn lowered her leg and stood back up. Trotting in front of the mirror, she adjusted her pigtails. She tightened the ribbon and dusted them off, then brushed back the stray hairs in her mane. She took a little water from the tap and used it to wipe her face clean, then looking at herself, she made a pose with her hoof on her cheek and blew a kiss.

She undid the latch on the window and slid it all of the way open, putting the wooden peg in the hole to keep it there through the night—A cool breeze blew in through the open gap, carrying with it the chirping of the crickets and the fresh scent of pine cones and blackberries.

Kettle Corn looked out over the darkening landscape. She smirked to herself and left the bathroom with a skip to her step and a flick of her tail. If anypony saw her lifting her tail, that was their problem.

~ ~ ~

There was a loud commotion in the colt’s cabin—nopony so much as bothering to even pretend they were asleep as the entire cabin’s residence congregated in a tight circle around two colts in particular. A runty little unicorn was bent over a chest in the middle of the aisle, sweating bullets as he struggled to hold his own against his opponent.

A scrawny little earth pony colt half his age was barely breaking a sweat. He was relaxing comfortably with his elbow on the trunk and a clear smirk on his face as he basked in his impending victory.

“Come on, Snips! You can Dew It!” A tall, dimwit of a unicorn shouted over Snail’s shoulder, rocking the upper bunk as he cheered. “Show that runt who’s boss!”—The irony was clearly lost on both of them.

Snips gasped for air, pulling in everything he had as his entire body began to tremble—Skeedaddle, watching from the bleachers, had to cover his mouth as his eyes widened—watching as Snips slowly to turned from his normal lime green to more of a pinkish hue.

Everyone around him was cheering for the smaller colt—And, measuring the crowd properly, the colt shrugged and slammed Snips’ hoof flat against the lid of the trunk.

There was a resounding THUMP—Almost a crack—as the entire trunk, floorboards, and even the beams holding up the roof shuddered from the impact and the entire room erupted into cheers.

“It’s no fair!” Snips shouted, wincing as he cupped his injured hoof under his armpit. “You cheated! Ya can’t be using yer fancy earth pony magics!”

“Who said I’m using magic?” He heard the colt responded with a nicker and Skeedaddle rolled his eyes. Had these morons really learned nothing about pony anatomy in magical kindergarten?

Evidently neither of them had, because Snails was quick to back him up. “Ya have’t’be cheating!” He sloshed, and Snips thumped the chest, causing the floor to creak and both colts to shake with the resulting tremor.

“An earth pony can’t be that strong!”

Snips reached across the chest to grab the other colt by the scruff of his neck, but what was said after that went over Skeedaddle’s head as something else caught his eye through the back of the scene.

Between all the colts mulling about, he saw somepony turn around and sneak away. He was too late to see who it was, only catching the tufts of a dark mane and blue feathers from a pegasus’ wings, but it was without a doubt somepony sneaking away.

Skeedaddle’s eyes roamed over the tops of the crowd before quickly spotting the colt as he separated from the group, again obscured somewhat obscured by Snips getting in his way—“Oh really—” Skeedaddle jumped up onto the tips of his hooves, balancing on his bed to get a little extra height, but he was just too late.

The front door to the cabin opened quickly and closed, the chime of a bell the only indication that it had even opened.

Skeedaddle slipped off his bed and ran in pursuit, side-stepping past the crowd of colts as the argument erupted into a fight—He ducked and weaved past a flying hoof as Snips leaped over the trunk to tackle the other colt to the ground and he scrambled up to the nearest window.

Pressing his body against the chest of drawers, Skeedaddle pulled himself up to look over the windowsill and squinted through the grubby glass. Through the misting of his own breath, he watched as a familiar silhouette tiptoed through the empty clearing in the middle of the camp.

There was a lamp at the flagpole, and as the colt passed through the light—The fur on the back Skeedaddle’s neck stood on end as he recognised the same colt from earlier on the boat.

Rumble shifted left and right, before ducking back into darkness.

“What are you doing, Rumble...” Skeedaddle whispered below his breath, his eyes narrowing. The fight happening right behind him could have been a million miles away. Even as a stray saddlebag strap clapped the wall next to him, Skeedaddle held his position, watching Rumble’s every move.

He watched as the colt snuck all the way across the camp, finally approaching the fillies’ cabin, albeit in a roundabout way.

He stopped at the steps, pausing as if to check for guards, then turned right, creeping along the side walls and ducking into the bushes, disappearing finally from sight, presumably into the fillies’ cabin.

Skeedaddle’s ears lowered as he ground his teeth, hissing through his teeth as he leered, the disgust dripping from his tongue as he whispered. “You sleazy little fuck... ”