In the Heat of the Moment

The Night Court was all gathered within the great throne room of Canterlot Castle. Scores of ponies dressed in their very finest all gathered together before Her Majesty, Luna Equestris – Shepherd of the Moon, Caretaker of the Sun, Ruler of the Three Tribes, Princess of Equestria. Her own gown outdid them all, probably costing the gross national product of Equestria for a year.

And then there was Trixie. She was naked. And while anywhere else this wouldn’t have been worth commenting on, here, in this place of opulence, she stood out like a chipped hoof. She was currently disguising this fact by hiding behind a Night Guard.

“My Night Court!” Luna bellowed, raising a hoof for silence. “My noble and generally loyal as long as somepony is watching ladies and gentlecolts!”

Everypony quieted their conversations about how they were planning to backstab somepony else in the room in order to turn to Luna. A leer broke Luna’s features as the doors to the Night Court were closed and locked. “I declare this lock-in to have officially begun…” she drawled.

The change was instant. For one thing, the lights in the room began pulsating, rapidly shifting in colors, as bright balls made of hundreds of tiny mirrors began to descend from the ceiling, the light dancing off of them and causing them to glitter and sparkle. Music started up; somepony was playing a saxophone, backed up by some kind of synthetic piano. The music was cheesy.

And very swiftly, Trixie was not the only naked pony in the room anymore. She tried to close her eyes, but couldn’t, as the assembled Night Court began to gyrate and move against one another, kissing, licking, biting…there were groans and moans and cries of ecstasy and Lyra and Bon Bon kept trying to find a third pony to join them…

A pair of great, midnight blue wings wrapped around Trixie, and she cried out as she was pulled in close to Luna. “You’re disgusted by your own body!” Luna exclaimed. “But I don’t see why, you’re really quite beautiful, Trixie…”

“Y-yeah…” Twilight Sparkle added, sliding up behind Trixie, laying her head on Trixie’s neck, kissing her cheek, as one of her forehooves started a journey down her barrel and towards her nethers…

Trixie awoke sweating. Also screaming.

The terror quickly passed, allowing Trixie to remember that she wasn’t in Canterlot, she was in her home, far from any kind of Night Court lock-in orgy which she knew for a fact never happened, since no member of the nobility would leave themselves so open to attack or humiliation. She was in her own bed, albeit a bed which, from the smell and feel of things, she was going to need to change the sheets on.

Trixie groaned, climbing out of bed and telekinetically stripping it of its sheets. This was the worst part of heat – the dreams. The dreams which were so much more vivid, and detailed, and featured Luna disturbingly often. The dreams which had her wake up having sweated a sea into her sheets, and often having further…released herself, which granted did allow for a slight reprieve from her heat, but it was once that was always wasted as she needed to change her sheets and it made her feel like she’d just wet her bed.

Trixie dumped her sheets in with her pile of laundry, then trotted downstairs, resolving to grab a drink of water. She stopped on the way to glance into her bathroom, making sure that her makeshift fix of the pipes had held – ‘fix’ here being defined as her using her hooves, her telekinesis, and a substantial amount of swearing to compress the pipes closed.

She was not going to try and call a plumber. Especially with her not being paid for the month.

Trixie made it downstairs and downed several glasses of water from her kitchen sink, glancing outside as she did. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon – her second day had begun. Her higher reasoning had ultimately triumphed after the first day of this chemical war – but now her bath was out of commission, as she’d hardly want to climb into a tub of used bathwater and so had drained it yesterday after spending an hour in it. Her hindquarters, meanwhile, had just conducted a successful night raid – they had regrouped from the shock of the freezing water yesterday and were preparing a new offensive.

“War is Tartaros,” Trixie declared.

Hours later, after going back to sleep and having a far more comforting and normal dream about being chased by a monster she couldn’t see or hear but which she knew for a fact was there always right behind her, Trixie found herself in her office. Being locked in her house for a week was going to leave her with an awful lot of free time, after all, and she supposed that there was still a backlog of Night Court paperwork that she could do to pass the time and, just maybe, convince Luna to only not pay her for the week rather than the whole month. She continued to pointedly ignore her hat in her drawer as her pen danced across the pages. Nothing killed the mood like filing information on farm outputs, water usage, and so on. Yes, sitting in one place was making her antsy, and her free, unoccupied front hooves kept trying to abandon her brain and join her nethers – in both a metaphorical and literal sense – but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t deal with yet.

Her front door opened. This was surprising, because she had a distinct memory of locking it. It closed quickly as a magenta pony trotted in, carrying a large cardboard box on her back – Cheerilee, schoolteacher, Element of Laughter, and apparently magician. “My front door was locked,” Trixie pointed out.

Cheerilee glanced at her friend, offering a helpless shrug. “That’s…not necessarily an impediment,” she said. Trixie raised one eyebrow. Cheerilee shrugged again. “I had an interesting foalhood. Learned a lot of useful life-skills.”

“Like lock-picking.”

Cheerilee nodded. “And embroidery,” she added.

Trixie rubbed a temple with one of her hooves while keeping a firm eye on her other one to make sure it didn’t try to wander anywhere. “N-now is not a good time,” she said. Cheerilee’s scent was beginning to reach her. Granted, Cheerilee was a mare and so not precisely what her hormones were seeking out, but at the moment Trixie’s rebellious hindquarters – still in firm control of her sense of smell despite her brain’s best efforts – were willing to take any kind of help in the face of the brain trying to starve them out. “Why didn’t you just, you know, knock?”

Cheerilee fixed Trixie with a stare. “Would you have answered?”

“Probably not.”

“Then that’s why I picked the lock, I’m not going to stand outside with these,” she rattled her box, “any more than I have to.”

Trixie stood up and walked over to the box, opening it with her front hooves. “Why, what’s in – ”

Trixie stared. Slowly but surely, her coat began changing color, from cerulean to a very bright shade of pink.

Cheerilee smiled sheepishly. “I heard you were in heat,” she said. “And I know how you feel about sex. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help out!” Cheerilee walked over to the other side of the box, which Trixie was still staring dumbfounded into, and reached in, rummaging around for a few moments before pulling out a cover with a suggestive title and an even more suggestive cover image of an earth pony stallion in the desert, wearing a hat, a grin, and not in any way, shape, or form hiding how…excited…he was to be on the cover of the book, entitled Riding Western Wind. “Okay, these,” she said, “these will help. I wasn’t sure what you’d liked so I just grabbed a few Westerns, a nice historical piece set in Unicornia, and – um…this.”

She had set aside each book she’d already produced on Trixie’s desk, and held up the latest one for Trixie to see. It had Princess Mi Amore Cadenza on the front cover, lying on her side and surrounded by opulence, though the picture was not itself risqué, probably just a public domain portrait of her done at some point in the past thousand years. Trixie blinked a few times in surprise, opening her mouth to object. No intelligible sound came out, however.

Cheerilee turned it back around. “It’s not licensed at all, of course,” she said, setting the book aside. “Apparently there’s this whole underground market of dirty books featuring Princess Cadenza or…um…” she pulled out another book. This one had no picture on it, but its title was Shoot for the Moon. Trixie could put two and two together.

“Yeah,” Cheerilee said, tossing the book into the pile she’d made. “Never really got into it myself, but hey, I’ll try anything once. Moving along…”

Cheerilee rummaged in the box some more, before pulling out a device of…impressive proportions. “Now for the record, I've never used these,” she assured Trixie. “I just used to, um…collect them, actually. Hey, a mare needs a hobby, right?”

Trixie stared.

“Kind of was getting difficult to hide them all, though, so that’s why I stopped collecting them and started collecting fish instead. More expensive in the long run, but at least I don’t have to worry about my little sister seeing anything she shouldn’t, right?”

Trixie felt nothing but sympathy for poor Piña Colada.

“Anyway,” Cheerilee said, setting aside the weapon of individual destruction and pulling out what, for a moment, Trixie thought was a corkscrew. A second glance made it abundantly clear that it was not a corkscrew, but the sight of it nevertheless made Trixie yearn for alcohol. “This one’s…probably not for you.” She set it aside, then pulled out something ribbed and spiked, studying it. “No, probably not…” she put that one aside, then began producing one torture implement (to Trixie’s eyes, anyway) after another. “No…this one might not even be legal…no…hmm, think I’ll hold on to this one…aha! Here we go!”

Compared to the previous implements, what Cheerilee held in her hoof right now was positively miniscule, barely four inches in length. “Small, so you don’t have to worry about losing your virginity,” Cheerilee said. “But, if you just channel some of your magic into it, it vibrates! Here, I think it actually has some residual magic stored up in it – the pony at the store I bought it in demonstrated it – the vibrating, that is! He didn’t use it…anyway.” Cheerilee rubbed its base slightly. Indeed, it began to vibrate with an audible humm, though only for a few moments as whatever magic remained in it gave out.

Cheerilee smiled, putting it back into the pile. “Just trying to help,” Cheerilee said, patting Trixie on the head with one hoof. “Being by yourself can be hard on a mare in heat…sometimes just ol’ Doctor Hooves doesn’t cut it.” She waved her two front hooves a little to emphasize her euphemism.

Trixie stared.

After several moments, Cheerilee realized that her smile was not as contagious as she’d hoped it would be. She stared back. “I’m…just trying to help…” Cheerilee ventured meekly.

Trixie breathed in deeply, then let it out in a slow, uneven breath as she focused very hard on the floor beneath her. She did not focus on the implements to her left. She did not look at the books to her right. Her brain most certainly did not have to deal with an insurgency inside of it that was imagining her on her back, helpless before Princess Luna and Princess Cadenza as they made use of those implements on her, all of them vibrating…gliding around her hips and her croup and dock…vibrating inwards…accompanied by their own heavy breathings and their tongues…as the Stetson-wearing cowpony, unsheathed in all his glory, approached Trixie from the front, offering himself, Trixie’s tongue stretching out and…

“Nngh…” Trixie gasped, as her hindquarters tried to press their advantage, hormones rushing through her body, the dull heat that had been building up all morning suddenly becoming a raging inferno at the sight of such easy relief, relief that wouldn’t require anything but a weapon of choice and her own treacherous imagination. “Hah…Ch-Cheerilee…if-f….if you w-want…want to…help…”

“Yes?” Cheerilee asked.

“G-g-get those…those things out of here!” Trixie exclaimed, scooting backwards from the box of horrors. “Please…p-please…before I d…do something I’ll…re-regret…”

Cheerilee paused only a moment, before hurriedly beginning to do as Trixie asked. She knocked over both the pile of books and the pile of dildos in her haste, but managed to quickly scoop them up and get them out of sight. It took only a few seconds, but Trixie was already sweating profusely, enough that she tore off her cape, though she held it close to her as she closed her eyes and tried to focus solely on breathing…in and out…in and out…in and out, in and out and in and out and –

“Hnh! Gah…hah…ahn…!”

Alright, so that was the wrong line of thought.

Cheerilee stared at Trixie. “You…” she said, “you…don’t…clop?”

Trixie shook her head violently. “It’s gross, g-gross, gr – hah – gross!”

Cheerilee sputtered a little, holding up a hoof. “Well…but…everypony clops, Trixie! Every mare! During their heat! How many heats have you had? Five? Six? And you’ve never clopped?”

Trixie shivered. “N…not…n-not intentionally-y…a f-few times, without…hah…without thinking about-t it…meaning to…ngh…”

“And didn’t it help?”

Trixie glared at Cheerilee. “It’s gross!”

Cheerilee blinked. “You’re going to explode.”

“Hah…m…my choice…not yours…”

Cheerilee shook her head. “I…alright. Fine. But it’s a bad choice. I just want you to know that. You’re making this much harder than it has to be.”

Trixie laughed tiredly even as she hugged her cloak tighter to her. The extreme heat was beginning to pass, her brain having successfully held off the hormonal barbarians. “Y…you’re the second pony to t-tell me I should g…go and buck myself…but mean it in a good w-w-way…”

Cheerilee sighed, grabbing the box and putting it on her back. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll…I’ll just bring these back to my place then.” She spared Trixie one more glance, before sighing again and heading outside.

Trixie remained still for several more long moments, before stumbling from her office, towards her kitchen sink. With her bathroom out of commission, her only option for cleaning herself off was now to simply fill a bowl with warm water and do it in her backyard. And then destroy the bowl.

So relieved was she to have her heavy heat pass, so anxious was she to try and wash off the stink of her own sweat and pheromones, that she didn’t notice that, in her haste to pack everything up, Cheerilee had accidentally left behind Riding Western Wind.