//------------------------------// // Meet Me At The Clubhouse // Story: Adolescence // by Scout Feather //------------------------------// On most days, the renovated clubhouse on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres was Scootaloo’s favorite place in the world. The paint and decor were childish and nostalgic. It had a woody smell, on account of being both surrounded by apple trees and built from fresh wood harvested on this very farm. To Scootaloo, it was homey. But today, the sun lowering just beyond the purple horizon painted behind the Clubhouse, as she rode up on her scooter, she was dreading it. There was no telling what would happen now. The clubhouse grew larger and larger until she approached the ramp. Apple Bloom had built it herself. It was sturdy: easily capable of handling several fully-grown ponies at once. It was also capable of being retracted to the top of the clubhouse with some rope and a pulley system that Apple Bloom designed. Scootaloo envied her craftsmanship. She trudged slowly up that same ramp, for the first time wishing it wasn’t sturdy or capable of handling Two Big Macs, as Apple Bloom had put it. She wished it would collapse, and then she wouldn’t be able to reach the clubhouse. Then she wouldn’t have to face Sweetie. But it didn’t. It held strong. “There you are!” Sweetie called cheerfully. Why did she always sound so happy? It was almost infuriating. Yet Scootaloo couldn’t be mad. “Yeah, sorry. Had to, uh… get something from home. Got sidetracked.” She tried to shrug nonchalantly as she entered the brightly lit room. From the doorway, she could see the corner where she had been putting up crudely drawn pictures of Rainbow Dash. There was the dull notion to draw Sweetie Belle instead, but she pushed it away. “So…” Sweetie began. Scootaloo gulped, and looked at the floor, crossing one forehoof over the other. Sweetie's face appeared to be deep in thought, lost in her own little world. A moment ago the other filly had been confident and sure of herself as she greeted Scootaloo at the door. Now she seemed torn between acting on something, or simply standing there. “Yeah,” Scootaloo said, more of a statement than a question. “You shouldn’t have done that in front of everyone, Scootaloo. I was kind of afraid of them seeing. I’m just not sure I want them to know yet...” She trailed off. Scootaloo found herself thinking ‘Know what?’ but Sweetie kept talking, cutting off her thought process. “If you wanted to kiss me again, you should have just asked. Let’s do it in private, okay?” Scootaloo could not believe what she had just heard. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. Was this really happening? “It’s okay, Scoots. I-I don’t mind.” Sweetie pawed at the floor herself, for the most part avoiding eye contact, her ears flat. Scootaloo still didn’t know what to say. She found herself wracking her brain for words, stammering out a few incoherent sentences. This appeared to amuse Sweetie, as she approached Scootaloo with a giggle, and pecked her on the cheek. “That’s for earlier,” She whispered. Scootaloo’s cheeks and ears quickly became very hot. “Yes.” She finally managed. “I w-would like that very much.” She offered a small smile at the other, who returned the expression as the pair sat awkwardly for about a minute until Sweetie cleared her throat. “Well?” At this, Scootaloo snapped to attention, realizing she had been staring again and that the kiss probably wouldn’t start itself. Her lips suddenly seemed very dry as she inched a little closer. So did Sweetie. Sweat dripped down Scootaloo’s forehead. Sweetie inched forward again. The other filly was now so close she could smell her perfume, overpowering and eye-watering, as if she had doused herself before leaving.. Wait. She’s wearing perfume? Oh Celestia! The smell was intoxicating. Scootaloo found herself taking a big sniff. She must have borrowed it from Rarity. That was it. Was this the smell of a mare? She could get used to a smell like that. A light went off in her brain, and she refocused herself on Sweetie, cutting off her train of thought. The pure white coat still gave off that glow. Her mane appeared to have been recently brushed, despite the curls. Scootaloo liked the curls. They looked pretty. Warm breath was now bearing down on her face, and she snapped out of her daydream. Their eyes met, muzzles inches away from each other. Scootaloo’s heart pounded and she was certain that Sweetie could hear it. There was no way something that loud couldn’t be heard within the immediate ten foot vicinity. She wanted to close the distance, to lean forward, but a part of her faltered. A lump grew in her throat, and Sweetie saw it. She was about to pull away when Scootaloo shot forward, preventing her, which earned a startled gasp. Their lips were now locked and Scootaloo felt like she was on top of the world, flying high through a cool summer’s breeze as she gazed down at the world below, past fluffy clouds, over a shimmering lake. Her eyes shut firmly, and so did Sweetie’s. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Even better than her hoof. Scootaloo suddenly became aware of a hoof touching hers. It grazed the fur at the base, then moved up her foreleg to her shoulder, gently rubbing back and forth. It sent tingles down her spine. Remembering her experience with the pillow the night before, she gulped. There was something she wanted to try. Her tongue dared to poke forward ever so slightly. Sweetie felt it across her lips, and actually parted them to grant her access. She was actually letting her do this! Scootaloo’s heart skipped a beat as she tentatively poked it forward, and was met… by Sweetie’s own shy tongue. The world around them no longer mattered. The smells of fresh wood and apples had become drowned out by the enticing smell of perfume. The sound of the wind blowing through trees was utterly unimportant next to the sound of Sweetie’s breath, her gentle heartbeat, and occasional squeak. Inquisitively, Scootaloo reached out her hoof and, following the same path on Sweetie that she had on her, trailed a hoof up her foreleg. Except, she went further, draping it around Sweetie’s back and gently tugging her down to sit prone, pressed against Scootaloo. The hoof traveled up and down, feeling the curvature of her spine, the warmth of her fur, and the occasional shiver. The little, curious tongue had started slithering around Scootaloo’s, poking and prodding, until gently pressing it back. Scootaloo obliged, finding her mouth suddenly invaded by the alien muscle which lapped around. Getting an idea, the pegasus gently coaxed it back, until it was far enough in, and then -- Sweetie let out a startled, but not unhappy, gasp as her tongue was suckled. This didn’t even phase Scootaloo, who then began to nibble it with her teeth. The taste was surreal. Sweetie didn’t struggle. A soft giggle even rose up from her throat, causing her muzzle to vibrate a little. As she caressed it, Scootaloo began to make a private registry in her mind, to save for later, of how she tasted: sweet, which she had practically already expected, like candy. But only the most expensive and the most delicious of candies. Salty, with a hint of a slight flowery taste. This close to her face, Scootaloo could also practically taste Rarity’s perfume. It was pungent and strong, likely something exotic that Rarity had had delivered from some faraway place, hidden in an expensive bottle. She recalled seeing them in Rarity’s bedroom once. Her own mother only ever used cheap perfume: she was a practical mare. Scootaloo secretly decided she liked mares who wore nice perfume, without really knowing why that was important information to store. Sweetie’s hoof had began to travel up the front of Scootaloo’s chest, sending all different kinds of new tingles through her body. The kiss lasted a short few seconds, no short amount of saliva shared, before the hoof was used as leverage to gently pull away, a trail of saliva breaking between them. For a short second, Scootaloo’s mouth hung agape, dripping tongue extended in sheer confusion from what had just happened. She quickly rolled up her tongue and snapped her maw shut before any flies got in. “W-wow, Scootaloo…” Sweetie muttered. “That...that was nothing like last time. Wow.” Scootaloo knew that was good. She simply nodded. “Listen, I-I’ve gotta go, Scoots. See you at school tomorrow.” Sweetie sputtered. She was out the door and down the ramp in a heartbeat. Scootaloo sat motionless for a long time, dazed and confused. Why did kissing another filly feel so good? Why did Sweetie run away again? The first time made sense, but now she wasn’t so sure. Most of all, why was she wet? Her gaze wandered down between her legs. Sure enough, that place she had touched with her hoof and all the fur around her crotch was slightly damp. This only served to confuse her more. Her hoof met where her gaze was, and another shiver immediately went down her spine. “Nng!” She groaned, biting her lip. She knew what she needed to do. Propping herself up in her favorite corner, slumped against the wall on a tiny pillow, Scootaloo recalled the smell, taste and feel of Sweetie Belle as she masturbated. Her hoof prodded and stroked, and she immediately was met with a new smell to add to her collection that she hadn’t noticed before: the smell of herself. Or, in particular, the smell of down there whenever she touched it. It was a thick, musky smell, one that filled her nostrils. Like a perfume that cost a million bits. She tilted her nose and smelled the air. Within minutes, she was delivered to home base, crying out to the empty clubhouse, her hoof becoming drenched as thoughts of her wet, sloppy kiss with Sweetie Belle filled her mind. She collapsed, and after 10 minutes of panting, the first thing that came to mind was What’s happening to me? Sweetie is a filly! Fillies don’t kiss fillies! Ewww!