//------------------------------// // The Birds and the Bees // Story: Adolescence // by Scout Feather //------------------------------// At some point or another, the sun went down. Scootaloo had fallen asleep. What was supposed to be a few minutes of shut-eye had become a few hours. But who cares? After all, her parents wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. She didn’t have to worry about anything else. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. It echoed through her half-asleep mind, ringing in her ears. Was that the neighbors? Wasn’t it a bit late? No, that was definitely in her house. Who would be walking in at this time of night, when her parents were away? How dare they intrude into her home while she, the current standing owner of the house, was sleeping upstairs? Scootaloo didn’t bother moving. She told herself it would sort itself out, even as hooves clopped up the stairs. Maybe she should… “Scootaloo.” Her mother’s voice, loud and shrill, brought her out of her trance. Like a magician who allowed a hypnotized victim, who had just made a fool of himself walking around on stage acting like a chicken, to regain consciousness. With a start, Scootaloo snapped to attention, sitting up in a matter of seconds. She had almost completely forgotten about the pillow, but like the poor and unsuspecting pony on stage, everything came flooding back as her mother walked up to inspect it. She knew: she had smelled it in the air, seen it on the pillow. She knew exactly what happened. The mare’s eyes widened as she attempted to think of something to say. Scootaloo's heart may as well have stopped. She might as well have been shot down right then and there, banished to the cruel torment of being grounded in the cold hell that would be her bedroom, subjected to the purgatory of unending boredom. She knew very little about what exactly she had done, what that smell was, or why her mother looked so distraught, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't something she was supposed to do. Or that is was downright embarrassing to be caught here, curled up on her parents bed, with one of their pillows covered in fluids that had come from inside of her. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out of her mouth. Anxiety wracked her brain. She wanted to run, but her hooves had become cold and clammy. Wings shuffled awkwardly as the tense silence continued to etch into her ears. “You… you best go to your room,” was all her mother managed. Scootaloo didn’t argue. Swallowing hard, she nodded. Finding the courage to stand, she trudged her way to her own bed, crawled under the blankets, and buried her face under the pillow. For all she knew, she was dead meat. There came the hushed voices of her mother and father in the hall. She thought she heard someone laugh. Creeping to her doorway in the dark room, she peeked out. Her mother, strands of hair hanging loosely from her mane in various places, seemed rather frazzled: an enormous change from her usual calm and perfected appearance. Her father, on the other hand, looked much lighter. He rolled his eyes, put his hoof on his wife’s shoulders and comforted her, smiling warmly. He always knows what to say, Scootaloo reflected. Placing her ear to the crack in the door, the filly managed to pick out a few fractured statements - “She’s growing up, dear.” and “Don’t even bother cleaning it. Throw it out. You can buy a new one!” - all of which seemed to be relaxing her mother, but she still looked upset. All of a sudden, the stallion stood up and walked to her door, knocking twice. Scootaloo had thrown herself at her bed and under the covers in a matter of seconds. “Come in,” she muttered. He did, turning on her bedside lamp as he sat down beside her bed. He didn’t say anything for a long time, pondering over his own thoughts. “Do you understand what you've done?” She nodded grimly, now turning to face him. “Your mother doesn’t seem to think so. Look, honey…” He suddenly reached out to place a hoof on her shoulder to comfort her just as she was about to hide her face in embarrassment. He began to choose his next words carefully. “You did nothing wrong, okay? It’s a part of growing up. It’s a private thing: every grown-up at some point in their life does it. Except… usually, we use our hooves, not pillows.” He grimaced, thinking of his favorite pillow, and how it was now utterly ruined. Her mother wanted to wash it, but… he would never get the image out of his mind. Better to remove the pillow from existence. As he went on, he began to give his daughter a talk about being in heat, colts, sex, puberty, and a variety of other things the poor filly never wanted to hear from her own father. Yet hearing him talk about it in the tone he always used to address her when instructing her on something, one she had grown to respect, put her slightly at ease. As much ease as one could have whilst getting ‘The Talk’ from one’s parents after being caught post-coitus with their favorite pillow anyway. Finishing his lesson, he leaned back and cleared his throat. “So, do you have any questions?” She furrowed her brow, thinking. Did she? It all seemed pretty self-explanatory. Everything fit, piece by piece. But there was one detail that had been gnawing at her. “What if...if I want to date fillies… i-instead of colts…?” She blinked, surprised. Why did she just say that? Why did that thought, subconsciously lingering at the back of her mind, suddenly produce itself and formulate words at this exact moment? Her heart was thumping inside her chest, and the room around her inexplicably seemed very cramped. She was sweating. She had heard of ponies getting kicked out over this sort of thing, disowned by their parents and left to fend for themselves. Did she just ruin the rest of her life by the utterance of that one statement? Would her father see behind the thinly veiled question and realize it wasn’t just a curious inquiry? The damage had been done, and Scootaloo had never been more afraid. Her father didn’t falter. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t start shouting. He didn’t kick her out on the street to fend for herself. He didn’t even blink. A smile grew across his face and he pulled his daughter into a warm hug. “Then I will love you all the same. You’re still my daughter.” Scootaloo hugged back in silence. There were a lot of confusing feelings inside of her, but at least this was one less thing she had to worry about. She felt surprisingly lighter, a great weight she didn’t even know was there suddenly lifted. Her father loved her, and everything would be back to normal. She shrunk back to the bed, retreating from the hug. A nervous smile stretched across her face, even as a hoof tenderly ruffled her mane. No further questions came to mind. “Good. Your mother and I have to go talk. We decided to end the trip early, since she was so worried about you.” He trailed off and chuckled. “After tonight, I think we can all forget this ever happened. Before you go to sleep, you… might want to take a bath.” He kissed her head, and ruffled her mane again before returning to his wife, the door closing behind him. Scootaloo simply laid in bed. There was a lot of information to take in. A lot of things to consider Despite being overwhelmed with new information, one image kept floating back into her mind. The image of Sweetie Belle, her friend. Except, thinking of her as a friend didn’t feel right. She wanted it to be more. Yes, that was right. Scootaloo felt like she wanted to spend time with Sweetie alone.. Almost on instinct, a hoof wandered down. Past her stomach, grazing over the warm fur, until it hit its mark. Or rather, her mark. A soft gasp escaped her mouth as her father’s voice echoed in her ear; ‘Every grown-up at some point in their lives does it. Except… usually, we use our hooves, not pillows.’ The hoof made small circles around her privates. Acting solely on instinct rather than actually knowing what to do, she pressed it into her small folds, spreading them slightly, revealing the pink flesh underneath. Her head tossed and turned, eventually finding a place in a pillow once again. Why did that feel so good? This is like, a million times better than a pillow! Oh gosh! Her pace increased, and with it, her lust. This time, she knew what to expect at the end, fueling her desire to go even faster. Fast was good. Rainbow Dash liked fast. Scootaloo vaguely wondered if Rainbow Dash ever did this. I bet she can finish in ten seconds flat! Dad had said that every grown-up did it. But what about fillies and colts? Did Apple Bloom do it? Did… did Sweetie do it, too? Thoughts of Sweetie Belle, spread eagle on her bed with a hoof between her legs furiously rubbing away clouded her mind. It made her even warmer down there. It made her forehead sweat. Nothing else seemed to matter other than that image. Scootaloo had to bury her face in the pillow just to keep from making too much noise as she crawled closer to finishing. The hoof dug into her youthful entrance. A thick, slimy liquid started to coat her fur, but she didn’t care. What mattered was driving herself to that… that peak. Her body screamed for release. Her hoof, now nearly coated, had started to make a ‘shllop shllop shllop’ sound. She was almost certain that if someone listened hard enough they would hear, but the thought was pushed to the back of her mind. She watched with a half-lidded eye as her blanket moved up and down, the hoof underneath rubbing furiously and erratically. Another quiet squeal escaped her lips, but she knew she had to do something to keep herself silent. Flipping onto her stomach, she raised her flank while keeping her head pressed into the pillow. Her rear legs were positioned at a wide angle so that her hoof could make its way between them, and she started to rub again. She found that, with her new position, she was able to reach it in a different way. There was a certain area that felt even more amazing by comparison when rubbed. This was something she hadn’t noticed with the pillow before. Her filly parts had become reddened and swollen, the friction from her hoof aided by the large amount of lubrication her body was supplying. As her hoof attacked that particular spot, she found a small nub. Her mind instantly went into a frenzy, and she arched her back. “Oh my goooosssssshhh!” She hissed, panting both from shock and physical exertion. Slow and firm, she pressed her hoof there again, then quickly removed it. It felt like she had tapped at the center of everything she was feeling and oh boy did it feel good. Her hoof quickly fell into rapid, rhythmic rubbing and she bit down on her pillow as everything came crashing down at once. Even her body gave way, the pegasus finding herself on her side. Her legs folded around her hoof like a vice, keeping it in place as she once again began her desperate rubbing. The feeling was like a million hooves giving her the world’s greatest massage. No, it was better. Tongue hanging loosely from her mouth, she began to buck her hips in unison with her hoof. Eyes firmly shut, she felt the epic conclusion coming a mile away. It caused her to cry with pleasure and her small body to jerk. Her hoof and inner thighs were immediately coated in more of the slimy fluid as she rode her way through the second orgasm of her life. An exhausted and extremely satisfied Scootaloo lay on her bed, panting heavily. Her hoof, inner thighs, and even some parts of her bedsheets were soaked. She made a contented smile and fought with fatigue as she sat up. This time, she wasn’t going to let herself sleep just yet. She moved to the door quickly, walking awkwardly on account of the soaked fur on her thighs. A quick peek to the outside hall revealed that her parents had either gone to bed, or were downstairs. Without a second to waste, she bolted as quietly as she could to the bathroom, and closed the door once she had flicked on the lights. Seeing herself for the first time in the mirror that night, she turned around and got a look at herself. Her fur was obviously wet and not a little sticky. Her privates, which had once been hidden behind her fur and tail, was enlarged and exposed. It still appeared to be dripping a little. She lifted her hoof now, gazing down at the liquids mixed into her fur. It smelled kinda funny. A smell that made her nose wrinkle and her body tingle. Maybe it tasted the same? That’s gross! You’re not supposed to taste it! Right? Maybe just a lick? No one has to know, right? Her tongue stretched from her mouth and dragged across the hoof. It tasted better than it smelled. She vaguely thought about how Sweetie tasted just as she heard hooves coming up the stairs again, and immediately sprung to action, making herself busy with preparing the bath. The hooves approached the bathroom, stopped for a moment, then continued down the hall. She was safe. The water was warm and relaxing. Scootaloo, who was now lowering herself into the bath, made a loud sigh of relief; her tense muscles relaxing nearly immediately. All of the stress of her day, her embarrassment of being caught in the act (or rather, after it), and the confusion for all the information she had learned washed away. She let her head droop briefly, feeling the water surround her ears and eyes, and listened to the pure nothing. It was soothing. As she washed away her worries as well as sweat and bodily fluids, she thought about the day ahead. There would be breakfast waiting for her, probably an awkward glance from her mother, but everything would be normal. School wouldn’t be anything special; there would be lots of homework, likely a scolding for not getting today’s work done… but she would get to see Sweetie. That would be worth it. Later that night, wrapped in her warm blanket, her fur damp and poofy, Scootaloo dreamt about hooves, pillows, and of Sweetie Belle. The next morning, she awoke to discover just what a ‘wet dream’ was - and to replace her sheets.