Part 1: The Arrival
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.
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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.
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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—
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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.
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Part 2: How much is that cute colt in the window?
The screen door creaked and shuddered. There was a loud scraping and small jingling of a bell that
announced her arrival as it pulled against the wooden floor boards where it didn’t quite match with
the incline. The floor had been marred with a semi-circle of scratches, a clear history of abuse from
every time somepony had opened and closed this door.
Grunting and wheezing, and Kettle Corn trotted backwards through the entranceway, dragging the
suitcase with the strap between her teeth. It was with a huff of hot air through her nose, that she let
the tassel drop and straightened her back, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow.
There was a loud chattering as she entered that quickly died down as the small group of ponies
present put a bookmark in their conversations to look over at the new arrival—Kettle Corn turned
around, putting the suitcase to her back and leaning with her barrel against it as she caught her
breath.
From her vantage point, she was in the perfect spot to catch the various glances and pairs of ears
that shot her way from across the room—albeit there were only a few fillies present. A pink and
berry coloured foal in the back had just ducked out of view through a side-door, what she presumed
would be the bathroom, whilst any other foals in the room only looked at her for a few more
seconds before turning back to whatever it was that they were doing—some hastily digging through
trunks and pulling out feathers and craft supplies, and... tree sap.
Two fillies in particular caught her attention though. One was a light blue with a yellow mane and tail
and wavy locks that almost made her thing of the fashion models she saw in the Canterlot magazines
her mother bought. The other one was a more unassuming pinkish filly, with a white and grey mane.
They were both clearly in the middle of something, as they had taken up positions at the foot of
either of their bunk beds, and were wrapped in hushed whispers and giggles, before she caught a
glimpse of one of them looking her way.
The yellow filly on the left joined her friend at glancing at Kettle, then she waved, gesturing for her
to approach.
Kettle Corn almost did a double-take. She glanced behind her, just to check that they weren’t talking
about somepony else, but only found herself and her suitcase—which she promptly gave a tug and
then kicked aside so it wasn’t blocking the door.
She then pressed a hoof to her chest, miming “Me?”
The yellow filly laughed and nodded, then waved her hoof, calling Kettle over. “Get over here and
say ‘hi’, silly!”
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Kettle swallowed the lump in her throat and tried her best to put on a sincere smile—unfortunately
the result was to only make her feel all the more awkward as she shouted back, her voice crackling
as a tensing of her flank muscles just then decided to make her voice hitch. “O-Okay!”
The blue filly cocked her head, looking at Kettle Corn with an odd inquisitive frown as she trotted
between them, then, glancing at the nearest of the two—Kettle got a motion from the yellow filly to
join her on her side.
“Hey, aren’t you that filly who’s friends with Campmaster Scootaloo!?” the blue one asked.
Kettle slid her butt onto the bed and almost immediately sank into the soft down. It felt like it was
made of feathers, almost, but even worse the pressure from the soft duvet was tickling her under
her tail, causing her to squirm as she tried to keep it from pressing into her more sensitive regions.
She couldn’t help but wince as she rasped. “Wh—Where did you—”
The yellow filly gasped in her ear, causing Kettle Corn to jump. “Oh my Celestia!” There was a sparkle
in her eyes as she leaned forward to get in closer to Kettle, who held a hoof to try and protect her
personal space. “Is that true?” the yellow pony whispered.
“N-No!” Kettle Corn blurted. “Of course not!” Where did they then even get this idea? She’d barely
even spoken to Scootaloo once!
“But we saw you on the bus, Everypony did!” the other foal retorted—to which the one next to
Kettle Corn nodded and said, “Yeah, and we heard from Lemon Crunch that Scootaloo said she liked
you!”
“I heard she said you were awesome.”
“And she called you ‘squirt’!”
“Well—yes, but...” Kettle Corn whined, trying to catch up with the deluge of rumours. She frowned.
“She did call me ‘squirt’, but, like”—
“I heard she only calls ponies squirt if she—” The blue filly nudged across the isle in their direction,
waggling here eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
This all only made Kettle Corn cheeks flush as she gasped— “N-No! I barely know her! I swear!”
“Suuuure you do...”
“Really!” Her voice was starting to break as she encroached on the Sweetie Belle barrier. “I’ve never
met her! I was as surprised as Everypony else! How was I supposed to know that...she liked...
scooters...” The absurdity of the statement only hit the moment after the sentence had left her
mouth.
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Kettle Corn was left with no other course of action but to facehoof and groan.
Both other fillies then broke out into laughter and giggles, the yellow one holding her sides as she
wheezed. “Aaahaaa—She’s just messing with you,” she said, nudging a mortified Kettle Corn in the
side.
“Don’t mind her.”—she thumbed a hoof across the aisle, all the while giving Kettle Corn a reassuring,
swaggering smirk. “Sweet Pop here just wants to use you to get to Scootaloo.”
“Nuh uh!” Sweet Pop shouted. All semblance of her previous demeanour gone; her face contorted
into a gigantic frown. “You were doing it too!”
“Yu-huh!” The blue filly stuck out her tongue, slapping the hoof away, eliciting a small giggle on
Kettle Corn’s part. “You were just telling me how that was your plan!”
Sweet Pop puffed out her cheeks and went silent for a moment, simmering as she crossed her
hooves. Kettle Corn wasn’t sure what to say, but no sooner had she opened her mouth to take a
breath, and the other filly stuck out her tongue and blown a raspberry. She pushed back her bangs
and giggled. “It’s true. Scootaloo is best pony.”
This only caused Kettle Corn to double over in laughter as the other filly continued to make faces,
added to by the foal next to her that was laughing just as much if not harder. “Aaaa-haaaa-h-
haaaa.... It’s—hah—all cool,” she said, taking a deep breath to stop herself from going into another
giggle fit. “We’re all blank flanks. Can’t be and not be massive Crusaders fans, am-I-right?”
“Hehe—” Kettle’s cheeks burned red as she blushed and snickered. “Y-Yeah, I guess it’s true...”
She held out a hoof to Kettle Corn, smirking and looking as cool as she did. “Name’s Poppy Seed, by
the way. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, um. Hi” Kettle clasped the hoof and gave it a shake. “I’m Kettle Corn. So, uh...” She glanced
around the cabin, taking note of the lack of other fillies—There wasn’t a lack of luggage, but most of
the beds looked either vacant or empty, as whoever had claimed them must be outside somewhere
else.
She looked back to Poppy. “How’d you find out about this camp?”
Poppy Seed hopped on the spot, emitting a short “Oh.” She glanced around herself, before flopping
with her back on the bed beside Kettle Corn. “You know...” she said, rotating her hoof in the air
nonchalantly. “Parents found out about it and thought ‘hey, Poppy could sure use some help finding
her mark’, and now I’m here.”
Sweet Pop affirmed with a nod. “Mm.”
“Oh, so you...” Kettle’s brow furrowed. “...don’t actually want to be here?”
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“What?” Poppy Seed laughed. “Oh, no, no, no!” She hopped back up to her hooves and trotted in
place, before doing a circle and sitting like a cat on the base of the bed. Kettle Corn’s ears flicked, but
her eyes remained glued to the odd filly. “This place is great! It’s not this place, it’s just...” She
thought for a moment. “I didn’t need help finding my mark”—
Kettle Corn’s eyes almost immediately darted to the filly’s flank—she’d barely realised she was
checking until after the fact, and it was all Kettle could do to keep from blushing as she realised this.
“But—”
“Yeah, I get it, I know,” Poppy had obviously noticed. She rolled her eyes, looking down at Kettle
corn smugly. “But the thing is,” she said, “being a blank flank is awesome! You get to try all kinds of
different things, experiment, play around with what you like, and you know—live a little, before
you’re forced to—”
She stopped suddenly, her nose scrunching and she sniffed.
Kettle Corn frowned. “Before you what?”
Sweet Pop squeaked, and Kettle Corn glanced over to her side to see the filly was blushing. She was
holding her hooves over her nose as she looked left and right, obviously finding something weird.
“Wh-What’s that smell?” she said.
Kettle Corn’s heart stopped—the whole room suddenly felt a whole lot smaller as she realised
something—She’d totally forgotten, and now that she was made aware of it, she could feel the bed’s
covers rubbing directly against her delicate bits. What’s more, she’d been rubbing her thighs
together without realising it, something she immediately halted as she became aware of her own
smell.
Kettle Corn and Poppy seed both glanced to the filly, but then her mortification grew and Poppy’s
eyes slowly settled on her moments before her nose scrunched and, and Kettle heard the filly
sniffing.
“Wh-” Kettle’s brow was beading with sweat as she leaned away from the two, trying without giving
away that there was anything wrong. M-Maybe they’ll think it’s just from the h—Hot weather?
“What?” Kettle asked. “What is it?”
Poppy Seed leaned over and gave Kettle Corn a long sniff, running her nose all the way up the back
of her head and between her ears—The intimate touch caused Kettle’s cheeks to flush red, and that
wasn’t the only thing that started to flush. “Oh my—” Poppy stated, rather matter-of-factly. “Are
you in heat!”
“Wh-What—” Kettle Corn blanched. The blood ran from her face as her deepest fears materialised
before her. She stumbled and almost fell off the edge of the bed as she scrambled to her hooves,
stammering to try and cover herself up—From where she’d been sitting on the edge of the bed left
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her tail pinned upwards, and now the wet hairs had stuck to her fur, making it ineffective at hiding
her shame as she peeled herself off the duvet.
Glancing back, she immediately noticed the slightly darker spot on the bed from where she’d just
been sitting, but she hoped beyond hope that nopony would have noticed it yet, if ever. She
whispered, wheezed, and shouted, whatever noise she could to come out, all the while trying to
ignore the sticky sensation coating her thighs. “N-n-Am not!” she stammered.
“Are too!” Poppy Seed shouted back with a shit-smacking grin.
The other filly, Sweet Pop pointed. “Oh my Celestia,” she said, “she is!” She was grinning and Kettle
Corn’s blush only deepened as she started to back away from the two. “Look at how red she’s
getting!”
“S-s-s-stop it!” Kettle Corn shouted. “I am not!” Her behind rammed into the wooden frame of the
bed in the next row over, sending a shock through her spine and a sudden, involuntary, jolt of
pleasure through her underside as she felt the hard wood press into her marehood. The reaction
was involuntary, and entirely outside of her control—She had to clap a hoof over her mouth to stop
the moan from escaping her lips. “Oooh—Mmmmf!”
“Oh now there is no denying it!” Poppy Seed shouted, almost giving an implicit ‘aha!’ in her words.
Waggling her eyebrows, she sauntered towards Kettle Corn, who tried to back away, but only found
herself skewered between the bedframe and this other foal’s body.
“A-a-am not,” she said, in mock defence, biting her lip and crossing her hooves.
Sweet Pop had a grin across her face as she leaned forward, inches from Kettle Corn’s own nose as
she spoke in a hushed tone, almost enticingly so. “Hey,” she whispered into Kettle Corn’s ear. “You
know what’s the perfect cure for a strong heat?”
This caused Kettle Corn’s ears to perk. Dropping all pretence of being upset, she looked back at the
filly beside her with wide eyes. “Wh-What?”
“That got her attention.” Sweet Pop commented from her position. She dropped back onto her
haunches, letting her hind legs hang off the side of the bed, snickering as she did so.
Ignoring the other filly, Kettle whispered, almost too afraid to admit she needed it. This gosh darned
heat was absolutely killing her—“Y-You know something that can help?”
“Mhm.” Poppy Seed nodded. “The best way to take care of a strong heat is to...” There was a
thumping at the door, followed by the creaking of wood and the jangling of the bell.
They paused momentarily and Poppy Seed glanced to the door as one of the camp masters arrived.
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Sweetie Belle stuck her head in with a clipboard floating in a green aura. She looked across the cabin
before her eyes landed on Kettle and her friends. “Hey, girls, have any of you seen a filly by the
name of...” Levitating a pair of sewing glasses from her hammer-space, she squinted through them
at the clipboard. “...Lemon Squeeze?”
They all shook their heads and Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “I swear to Celestia, if that filly doesn’t
show up soon, I’m going to...” The door slammed behind her and her voice faded away with the
trotting of her hooves, followed by a steady clomp, clomp, clomp growing more distant as she
descended the front steps.
When the last of the hoof falls had sounded, and they could only barely hear Sweetie cursing to the
skies in the distance, Poppy Seed’s toothy grin returned. She grabbed Kettle Corn with a hoof on
either side of the head and looked her straight in the eyes as she repeated. slow and steady, and in a
hushed whisper, she said: “Best way to take care of a strong heat is to...get fucked.”
Kettle Corn and Lemon Squeeze gasped and they both looked at the yellow and white filly that had
appeared between them. Lemon Squeeze’s ears twitched and she blinked, then something clicked
because she squeaked suddenly—“Oh, fuck!”—and she bolted out the door.
Kettle Corn blinked, watching as Lemon Squeeze squeezed out the front door—the loud jingling of
the bell the only sound in the room as her head whipped back to Poppy Seed. The filly was grinning
as Kettle Corn then asked: “Y-You mean...” She felt her stomach twist a little, excitement bubbling
up inside as she said the word. “B-By a colt?”
Poppy Seed smirked and rolled her eyes. “Uh duh!” she shouted—then grabbing Kettle Corn by the
hoof, dragging the foal across the cabin towards the nearest open window. There was a stack of
drawers with boxes on it in the way, that she promptly shoved off as she brought Kettle Corn up to
the window and shot her gaze out over the campground.
“Hey!” Sweet Pop shouted, “That was mine!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Poppy Seed waved her back without pulling her eyes away from the window. “We’ll
put it back in a second, just me... Aha!” She waved frantically, gesturing for Kettle Corn to get up
onto her hind hooves and join her in looking out the window. “All we need is the perfect colt to get
fucked by, and I think I see the perfect candidate.”
Poppy Seed’s grin was getting frightening and as kettle Corn pulled herself up against the chest of
drawers to look over the ledge, she frowned, and looked at Poppy Seed for confirmation. She
whispered, “You mean Skeedaddle?”
Poppy Seed gasped. Her eyes went wide as she glanced at Kettle Corn. “Wait,” she said, “you already
know his name!?”
“Y-Yeah—”
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“It’s perfect!” Her voice cracked the sweetie barrier as she practically turned into a dog whistle.
“Now you have to fuck him!”
“I—I don’t know about this...” Backing away from the window, kettle Corn let herself drop back to all
fours. She glanced to the other filly—Sweet Pop—for guidance.
Sweet Pop merely shrugged. “I gotta agree with Poppy,” she said, “It can’t be any more perfect than
this.”
Poppy Seed grabbed Kettle Corn by the shoulders and pulled her into a sideways hug. Her smirk had
turned into a full-blown grin as she waggled her eyebrows. “Trust me,” she said, “My mom’s a
doctor. You’re going to love it.”
Before Kettle Corn could say anything more, they were interrupted by a bell ringing and a western
twang screeched out an announcement over the camp’s intercom:
Attention, Cutie Mark Campers! Report to the flagpole for yer first event of the day, Archery—The
three of them exchanged glances and raised eyebrows as loud shuffling of papers could be heard
over the static, followed by a high-pitched screech that almost busted their eardrums as somepony
Sweetie Belle took over the microphone. AND WILL LEMON SQUEEZE PLEASE REPORT TO THE
OFFICE. NOW.
They all winced at the sound of the microphone being slammed down.
Kettle Corn breathed a sigh of relief at being able to get out of there—but before she could go, she
was held back by a hoof on her shoulder and whisper in her ear. “Don’t forget what we said,” Poppy
whispered and licked her ear, causing Kettle Corn to stiffen.
A tremor ran up her spine—not just from the unexpected contact, but from the sudden release of
tension she felt bellow her.
There was a splatter as small droplets of her pent-up arousal hit the floor, and Sweet Pop giggled as
she passed. “Oh, stop teasing her already.”
“Alright, okay, okay!” Poppy Seed shouted, and tittered, then set off after Sweet Pop, leaving Kettle
Corn alone.
Kettle Corn breathed in, letting the heat in her cheeks settle.
She inhaled, then on the exhale sighed. “O-Okay...” Smiling, she raised her tail, then thought better
and clamped it between her legs. The shower would have to wait, as she heard other fillies and colts
already shuffling past outside towards the meeting area. “I can do this.”
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Part 3: Rocking the Boat
There was already a loud chattering of fillies and colts as everypony filed out of their respective
cabins towards the centre of the camp—Kettle Corn hurried down the steps, almost tripping over
her hooves as she joined the others as they lined up outside the cabins in front of the flagpole. “S-
Sorry, sorry—” she squeaked, muttering over and over again as she squeezed through the small
crowd and slotted in beside Poppy Seed and Sweet Pop.
Her tail was still twitching uncomfortably—maybe even more so as her heart raced and she panted,
wobbling on both hooves between the tightly-packed row of filly and colt bodies. Just a few steps to
her right, on the other side of Sweet Pop, she could see Skeedaddle in the line, almost close enough
that she could smell him.
“Well, you took your time,” she heard somepony whisper in her ear and Kettle Corn snapped back to
attention, pulling her eyes away from the colt that she was supposed to... f-f-fuck.
“Relax,” the filly beside her whispered—Kettle Corn glanced to her side to see Sweet Pop looking at
her with a knowing smirk. Her cheeks were tinged only slightly red, the pigmentation slowly fading
under the bright light of the mid-day sun. Kettle coon realised she’d been blushing herself and she
puffed out her cheeks, turning away from Poppy to focus ahead—
Across the camp, she saw the office doors open and two of the camp masters emerge, one holding a
clipboard and quill—A peach filly she recognised as Apple Bloom, and the other was Sweetie Belle,
dressed up in a sea-green scoutmaster uniform.
“Listen, here’s the plan—When they announce the start of the event, I’m going to try to get you
paired up with Skeedaddle, okay?” Kettle Corn’s fur prickled as she felt the hot breath of Poppy Seed
in her ear—her tail twitched, but remained clamped tightly over her flank. She ignored Poppy Seed
all she could as she watched the two camp masters approach the flag pole.
Upon reaching the row of foals, the camp masters—Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked over
them as they stood beside the flag pole. The former was quiet and with a stern look, whilst the latter
glanced between them with a slight frown.
Now that they were a lot closer, Kettle Corn could tell there was something not quite right. Sweetie
looked oddly flustered. Not only did she have a kink in her step, but her mane was a tousle with a-
pair of scissors sticking out of the top where somepony had very clearly been trying to cut something
out of it. Beneath the uniform, which she now realised looked slightly tattered, her coat was covered
in little white specks and blotches. Kettle could only assume it was glue.
As Sweetie passed in front of her part of line, the camp master stopped suddenly, shooting Kettle
Corn a sideways glance—and Kettle immediately stiffened, averting her gaze to the ground. “S-
Sorry,” she squeaked.
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
14
Sweetie’s nostrils flared. She didn’t say very much, but she did huff as she returned to cantering back
to the flagpole—Sweetie’s tail flagging momentarily as she spun back around to address the row of
fillies and colts. “Alright, Everypony,” she said, “We were going to start with archery as your first
event today, but due to some unforeseen circumstances—” She was interrupted by a snicker and
paused to fire a glancing dagger at Apple Bloom, who promptly bit her lip and shut her mouth. “I’m
afraid we’re going to have to cancel today’s archery event.”
At the sound of the words ‘cancelled’, a collective groan rolled out from across the line. Kettle Corn,
for her part, let out a sigh of relief and her entire body relaxing on the spot. Thank Celestia. Maybe
this means she wasn’t going to have to—
Sweetie Belle continued: “Instead, we are going to be doing canoeing!”
“We’re going to need each of you to break off into groups of two,” Apple Bloom stepped forward to
interject. She tapped at her clipboard with the top of her quill as she sounded off the groups. “Kettle
Corn, you’re going to be with Poppy Seed, and Sweet Pop, you’re with Skeedaddle.”
Kettle Corn’s ears pricked up at the words. A wide grin spread across Poppy Seed’s face beside her
and her stomach began to drop as the filly turned to look at her, waggling her eyebrows as she
nudged Kettle in the side.
“Oh, oh no...” She shook her head, whispering under her breath. Her whole body was trembling as
she struggled to contain herself and stand in line. “No way—” Kettle Corn shook her head, looking at
Poppy Seed in the eye—No way she could be— “You can’t possibly be thinking—”
“Oh yeah,” Poppy Seed cut her off with a whisper, giving Kettle that same sly grin that she was
quickly learning to regret. Poppy Seed immediately turned away from her and shot her hoof into the
air shouting, “Oh, Miss Sweetie belle!
Kettle gasped as her hoof was grabbed from her side and yanked upwards, just about pulling her
upright as Poppy Seed waved it in the air for her.
“Kettle wants to be with Skeedaddle!”
The colt in question’s ears perked up and Kettle glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye, blushed,
and averted her face. “What was that?” She just about heard him whisper, presumably to the colt on
his other side. Sweet Celestia why—Why, do you have to do this to me, Poppy. It was already bad
enough that she had to deal with this Luna damned heat, now she had put her on the spot in front of
Everypony, right as she—Her legs trembled slightly as a twinge of arousal flushed through her.
Her cheeks were already burning as bright as the sun, but now as her scent wafted to her nose for
the first time that day, Kettle became distinctly aware that everypony probably, no, definitely could
smell her too.
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
15
Poppy Seed continued regardless, either unaware of, or intentionally because of, Kettle Corn’s
discomfort. She grabbed the camp masters’ attention. “Can she swap with Sweet Pop?”
Sweetie belle glanced between the two of them, not even batting an eyelid as looked Kettle in the
eye and the to the colt on the other side. She could have sworn she saw Sweetie’s nose scrunch—
Was that her thinking face, or did she know? Kettle could feel the blush in her cheeks spreading to
other places as the moment dragged on and Sweetie’s lips began to curl as she considered the swap.
“P-Poppy...” Kettle Corn whispered. She began to fidget, feeling the moisture between her legs start
to drip—she was certain she felt a familiar tension under her tail as the muscles twitched to
accommodate the unusual pose. She was unable to get her hoof back under her, and something
about being made the centre of attention, with all the eyes in the camp trained on her, even if it was
all in her mind, was causing her heart to race, and her breathing to get hot. “P-Poppy,” she repeated,
more hastily this time as she felt Skeedaddle’s eyes graze the back of her head.
“Shhhh...” Poppy hushed her. “Trust me, this is going to work.”
Kettle Corn’s stomach fluttered as she felt the tension building inside. Her ears flipped down as she
looked around them anxiously. “Th-That’s what I’m afraid of...” she breathed.
Apple Bloom took her sweet time to blink and look over her clipboard.
She turned one of the pages and confirmed something with her quill before sharing a look with
Sweetie Belle—They giggled together and were both blushing slightly when they looked back up
with thin smiles, eyes specifically trained on Kettle Corn.
“Ah don’t see why not,” Apple Bloom said with a smirk. Anything more but a wink would have Kettle
think they knew something she didn’t.
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle agreed. “So long as Sweet Pop is okay with it, I suppose it’ll be fine.”
Kettle Corn’s eyes widened. W-Wait—They were actually going along with this!? She whipped her
head around, begging with eyes, towards Sweet Pop, but was left little options as the filly had
already been listening and picked up quickly on the plan.
With eyes clearly trained on Kettle Corn as she spoke, Sweet Pop sung in an almost sing-song voice:
“I’d be happy to!” she said.
Kettle Corn was shoved sideways without warning, and then flipped around back into the line as
Sweet Pop swapped places with her—there was only the sound of giggling and Poppy’s voice in her
ear as she found herself in her new spot, with two fillies giggling like school foals to her left, and on
her right—
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
16
Kettle’s heart stopped as she realised where she was—Standing right in front of her, staring with
wide eyes, was a familiar blue unicorn colt. Seeing him up close for the first time, Kettle Corn could
properly get a view of his entire flame.
Slender and tall, he stood just about a half an inch over her head with a messy mop of a mane and
tail, but above all else, he was staring at her.
Behind her, Kettle heard her roommates cackling: “Have fun, you two~” Poppy Seed teased.
Almost immediately, Kettle’s blush returned in full force and she averted her gaze.
Skeedaddle raised his hoof in greetings, though. “Um...” he said, “Hi?”
~ ~ ~
The lake was calm, almost like a mirror as it reflected the midday sun. There was a gentle lapping of
water and the clock-like rhythm of the waves as the oars dipped and pushed, propelling them little
by little through the open expanse.
Kettle Corn was sitting at the head of the boat, facing inwards, whilst Skeedaddle was facing away
from her as he focused on moving the oars with his magic.
Between the two of them they’d quickly decided that Skeedaddle would be doing the rowing whilst
she kept a lookout for other campers—not that they had any chance of running into any ot them.
The lake was large enough that they could be rowing for hours and not come within earshot of
another group.
It was just the two of them.
With nothing to do.
Alone.
Kettle Corn grimaced, a cramp running up her lower abdomen. She held onto the oar with her left
foreleg as she pressed the tip of her right hoof against her stomach, trying to avoid her sensitive
teats as she applied pressure to the afflicted zone. The cramp lasted for a few seconds, before finally
subsiding and she let out her breath.
At the very least one advantage of the open air and sea breeze through her mane was that they
hopefully didn’t have to put up with the smell. Both Skeedaddle, and her—Just the tiniest whiff of
Skeedaddle’s sweat catching her nostrils was enough to cause her symptoms to flare.
“So, uhm...” her ears perked as Skeedaddle glanced over his shoulder, giving Kettle a concerned
look. He spoke between swings of the oars, the splashing of the waves punctuating the silence.
“What is wrong with you anyway?” Splash. “Are you sick?”
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
17
Kettle frowned—A tint tinge of embarrassment colouring her cheeks. Her mom had told her never to
talk about this stuff with a stall—Er, colt in this case, but she hadn’t had any luck talking to other
fillies, and it wasn’t like she even had a choice now.
“C-Can you keep a secret?” she asked. That should be enough to ensure he doesn’t go blabbing to
his geldmates, at least.
Surprisingly, Skeedaddle took that relatively seriously. He stopped rowing immediately, the oars
wobbling as they rested against the sides of the boat, just on the precipice of falling off, and he
turned around on the spot to face her, the look of concern now more clearly visible as Skeedaddle
gave her a raised eyebrow.
“Of course,” he said.
No conditions. No stipulations. Just acceptance.
It was refreshing.
Kettle Corn exhaled, releasing a little of the tension she’d been holding. “You promise?” she
checked.
“Yes. What is it?”
“I—” Kettle Corn inhaled as she shifted on her seat. The wood of the boat was rough, and while at
first it was a relief to sit on something cool and hard, as the minutes had grown on and it had slowly
grown moist. Even this was feeling a little too comfortable for her liking. “I’m... In heat,” she
whispered.
She squeezed eyes shut and winced, fully in anticipation for the incoming barrage of questions—or
worse—teasing to come her way.
But then nothing happened.
Skeedaddle tilted his head, looking at her in confusion. There was the bumping of wood as
something slipped under the water, but otherwise silence. “What’s what?” he said.
At this, Kettle almost did a double-take. “W-Wait, you don’t know?”
“H-Heat as in temperature?” he asked.
“No, no—” Kettle Corn shook her head—blushing at the absurdity—She almost wanted to slap him it
was such a—“I-It means I’m in estrus.”
“Estrust?”
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
18
“Estrus,” she corrected. “I—It means I have to...” Kettle stopped herself, suddenly realising what she
was about to say, and to a colt no less. “I-I mean, it doesn’t matter...”
“I—I heard about that,” Skeedaddle said. He scooted closer to her, blushing slightly as he looked
down at Kettle Corn’s body. She hadn’t realised it until now, but from where he was sitting, she
could tell Skeedaddle had a full view of her teats. She wanted to hide herself from him, even making
a move to clench her thighs together, but something made her pause as her eyes were drawn
instinctively to his lap where the tip of his... It was starting to peek out.
She was blushing furiously, as was he.
Skeedaddle swallowed, inching closer to her again. The splashing of the waves caught her attention
as something slid off the side of the boat. The tiny plap splashed a few droplets onto her cheeks as
something dipped below the surface.
“It means you...” Skeedaddle started, pausing as he inhaled her scent. Kettle Corn was reminded she
was probably smelling pretty intense by now—her tail flicked, and she licked her lips, picking up the
scent of the colt next to her in turn. “...have to be with a colt, right?”
Their lips were almost an inch apart. Kettle’s heart was pounding. “Y-” Her throat was dry. She put
up a hoof to hold him back, to try and refrain herself from going any further. “Yeah,” she said.
Kettle Corn’s eyes flicked behind her to the coast and then back to the colt beside her, her heart
racing—she jumped out of her seat.
Their lips smacked together as Kettle Corn threw herself against the colt in front of her, pressing her
face against his and moaning into his lips. “Hmmmmmmf....!”
He squeaked and threw up his hooves but put-up little resistance against her as she breathed into
his mouth—their breaths intermingling as the air between them grew hot. “Mmms! K-Kettle—”
The whole boat shook and tipped and the two of them tumbled backwards into the middle of the
boat with kettle Corn straddling atop him—Her tail flicked as high as it would go as she refused to let
go of him. What was this sensation? Her heart was racing and sweat was beading her body—she felt
like she was about to explode.
The way Skeedaddle smelled—tasted—She breathed it in, inhaling the gentle berry smell as she
pressed her lips against his—She could feel his shaft starting to bulge against her teats as their
bellies pressed against each other, causing her to squeak and hum, moaning gently into the
deepening kiss. “Hmmmh...” she begged, their lips separating a moment for her to gasp. “P-
Please...”
She separated, leaning on her haunches—Skeedaddle watched with wide eyes from below as she
arched her back, pressing her hips against his, the slowly hardening colt bits tucked neatly under her
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
19
between her teats—“Skeedaddle—” Kettle Gasped, separately, neighing as her tail flicked upwards
for him. “F-Fuck me, please. I can’t take this heat anymore.”
“K-Kettle—” Skeedaddle stared up at her like a deer in the headlights, his face flushed red and his
chest rising and falling as her panted. “I—I’ve never—”
Kettle Corn silenced him with a kiss and used her body weight to flip them over. The boat rocked and
the lake splashed around them, tossing water over the edges. Kettle lay back with her coat dap from
the water—the cooling feeling a welcome sensation as she stared up at the colt on top of her. “J-Just
do it, please...” She hinted towards him with a nudge of her hips, causing his penis to bob up against
the underside of his barrel.
From the angle they were on, there was no way she could get it in by herself. She needed help and
Kettle none-too-subtly suggested what to do by the motions of her hips, whining as she did so. “C-
Come ooon,” she begged.
Skeedaddle blinked, just then realising what he had to do, though still moving with a slightly
unsureness about him. He acted like he was about to break as he pressed his body against hers—his
hips pushing Kettle’s legs up into the air and onto either side of his flanks, the slight rise and arch to
her back only serving to coil the tension in her lower half even further.
Kettle mewled, and Skeedaddle almost froze in place, his eyes glancing to hers with a look of
concern. “K-Keep going...” Kettle whispered.
Skeedaddle swallowed, then with a furrow his brow, looking back down at the task at hoof—
Something about being on full display, at the mercy of a colt she’d only just met was making Kettle
Corn’s heart race—Her lips trembled as something poked out at the base and Skeedaddle’s eyes
widened.
“Wh-Woah...” he said.
“H-Hurry up!” Kettle Corn whined.
“Oh-Okay!”
Skeedaddle nodded, jolting back into action. He paused for another excruciating second as he
fumbled to grab onto his colt bits and struggled to align them with her opening. The tip slipped and
pressed against her lips, making Kettle Corn suck in a breath of air.
A jolt of pleasure arced through her spine, and she trembled. If just a taste of it was this good, she
couldn’t wait to have the rest of him—The moment Skeedaddle’s tip aligned with her entrance,
Kettle Corn pressed her hips back, hilting him to the medial ring.
“Oh—Ooohhh~”
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
20
They moaned in unison. Skeedaddle tensed up and her whole body trembled as Kettle Corn’s
entrance stretched open in a whole myriad of ways she hadn’t thought it could. The feeling of him
being inside her, of being so full was like and explosion of sensations she couldn’t put into words.
Instead, she moaned a guttural, lusty howl.
“Uuueueuuueue...” as the first, tiny orgasm rocked through her small underage body.
Skeedaddle was taken by surprise as a tiny spurt of clear fluid squirted out all over Skeedaddle,
soaking their fur even further. “Oh—O-Do I...?” He looked back up at her, seeking guidance.
Kettle Corn simply squeezed her eyes shut—It wasn’t enough. She needed more. “K-Keep going,” she
said.
Skeedaddle swallowed, and still with her eyes closed, she felt him change position. At first, she
feared her might be pulling out, but when she felt Skeedaddle’s hooves on either side of her body,
she was welcomed with the ecstatic bliss as her slowly, shakily, started to press deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper.
“Aaah...”
The gasp escaped her lips as she focused on the sensation—her legs twitched, the muscle firing on
their own with every new jolt of pleasure that went through her. She could feel herself being moved
backwards as her fur brushed across the boards of the canoe.
Almost on instinct her legs went around his thighs, grasping onto them for purchase as she tried to
hold on—There was s growing pressure inside her as the tip finally bottomed out, and Kettle’s legs
twitched—no, her entire lower body started to shake as the warmth from her crotch started to
spread out to the surrounding areas.
“Ah—” She heard somepony pant—It wasn’t her, it sounded like. “I—I think it’s in...” Skeedaddle
said.
Kettle frowned and her ears drooped. She almost didn’t want it to end, so she couldn’t let it end. Not
yet.
As she panted, she could barely make out the words as she said, “K-Keep going—A-Again. F-Faster.”
Skeedaddle started a slow retreat—Kettle couldn’t help but peek, looking down between them as his
shaft slowly emerged from within her in reverse. The first inch, second inch, the medial ring caught
on her lips causing her breathing to hitch, then another two inches—Her eyes widened with every
inch.
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
21
Was that really all inside her?
He reached the tip and Kettle Corn pulled a deep breath, biting her lips as she braced herself fro the
next part.
She saw Skeedaddle clench his teeth, but he wouldn’t stop looking into her eyes as he pressed
forward. Faster than before, the whole shaft slid elegantly inside of her, pushing deeper and
separating her fold with ease.
There was a slight plap as his balls slapped against her underside and Kettle Corn squeaked. Her
whole body jumped at the contact—a jolt of excitement running through her. Again, Skeedaddle
pulled back before slamming into her and causing her whole body to shudder. “Ah-Aaahaa—”
Kettle Corn’s lips clenched around the base of his shaft and the bud, she could see was a pink bit of
flesh, winked against the veiny appendage, leaking dribbles of her fluid along his length as he pulled
back.
Again. Slap “Ahhaahh...” She trembled, biting her lip, and whispered. “H-Harder...”
Skeedaddle was sweating at this point and hat to bite his lip as he pulled back—his entire body
trembling with what Kettle could only presume was the same thing she was going through. She
repeated when he hilted inside her, causing the whole boat to shake. “H-Harder.”
He pulled back again and slammed into her. A sudden pressure sent jolts of pleasure and pain
through Kettle Corn’s body as he tapped her inner-most entrance. The boat shuddered and the
water splashed around them as the canoe jittered along the surface. “H-Harder!” she demanded.
Skeedaddle huffed. He adjusted his footing on either side of her—a loud huff as he flared his nostrils
over her and grit his teeth. Skeedaddle arched his back and bore his weight down on her, pressing
Kettle Corn’s back into the hard at the bottom of the canoe as he put everything had into it.
“Hiyaaaa!”
KER-SLAM
“AHH...! F-Fuu—” Kettle Corn moaned as his hips slammed into her, pushing her back an inch with
the force. The tip of his cock bottomed out with the medial ring embedded to the hilt—and in one
fell swoop, the tremors barely had a moment to settle across her belly before he was at it again—
The next slam rocked the boat even further as he proceeded to fuck her with abandon.
SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP
Every thrust pushed her body back slightly further, edging her towards the point of no return,
scooting along the length of the canoe as the water splashed around them. Kettle Corn felt her head
press into something hard as she finally settled against the supports for one of the boat’s seats—
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
22
then Skeedaddle’s cock started properly ramming into her.
Now with the right purchase—she started to shake and gasp for breath, moaning in a rhythmic beat
against the wet slapping of Skeedaddle’s hips against her rump. “Ahha—aha—F-Fuck—” She
moaned and panted, giving out little squeaks as the jolts of pleasure made her muscles twitch and
spasm. “Yes—Fuck—harder, hard, hard, please...”
Her hooves tightened around his back, and Skeedaddle, following orders, redoubled his efforts. At
this point neither of them cared about who was watching or heard. The boat was shaking and
rocking with every trust and Kettle felt the tensions deep inside her growing and coiling, building to
some sort of release with every inward thrust.
Her clit was winking over and over again, her tongue rolling out of her mouth as she panted and
heaved, her chest pressed against his and water pooling behind her head as she held onto the colt
fucking her for dear life.
“Ah-Aaaah...” Skeedaddle and Kettle’s moans mingled into one as the moment drew longer, inch by
inch punctuated by the slapping of his balls against her but and the splashing of water and filly’s
squeaks.
Skeedaddle huffed, his nostril flaring—He paused between thrusts to grunt out. “K-Kettle—
Something’s—” He was struggling to speak. Kettle merely held on, gyrating her hips to keep up his
thrusts, to get that angle, the one spot with the itch she simply couldn’t reach. “Something’s
happening—” she heard him whisper in her ear as his head dipped close to her own.
“D-Don’t stop,” she huffed. “I’m almost—”
“I don’t think I can!” Skeedaddle moaned over her words as he hilted in her one last time—A pulse
ran through his shaft as his belly connected with hers and Skeedaddle’s legs locked into place.
There was a sudden pressure inside her and then a warmth—like a kind of instant relief poured out
into her.
Kettle Corn moaned, practically screaming. “Aaaaaaaa—aaaaahhhhh....” The tremors in her body
turned into a veritable earthquake as the dam finally broke and her orgasm hit her—The whole
world flashed white and her own legs locked, holding Skeedaddle against her—No pulling out, as his
own orgasm rocked through him and pulse after pulse of a pleasure was pushed deep inside her.
The last thing she remembered was breathing out as her eyes crossed—flashes of light sparking in
the darkness as her head rolled back onto the floorboards.
~ ~ ~
Camp Colt Part 3: Rocking the Boat
23
Kettle Corn woke up in a sticky sweat. Her muscles were aching, but the moment she came to she
realised something...She inhaled, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze. Her mind was clear. She
wasn’t hot and itchy. She didn’t have any discomfort in her... other areas.
It almost felt like her heat was gone...
Looking to her side, she saw Skeedaddle lying on the boards of the canoe at her side in a delirious
daze. There was a wobbly smile painted across his face as he looked at her with a dreamy haze. “H-
Hey...” he said, swallowing, “That was.. amazing...”
Her heat was still racing, and looking down she saw the trail of white leading from between her legs
to the tip of his softening shaft.
The first thought that occurred to her was:
“Y-Yeah...” she breathed. “That was amazing...”
The second thought that occurred to her was:
She looked around them, noticing something was missing.
“Where are the paddles?”
Camp Colt Part 4: Knocked Up the Creek
24
Part 4: Knocked Up the Creek
“Oh, no, no, no, no!”
Kettle Corn bounced to her hooves, almost knocking Skeedaddle out of her way as she started
pacing and hyperventilating in a panic. She tittered to herself as the boat shook, water splashing
waves around them. “How could we lose the paddles!?” she shrieked.
Skeedaddle’s ears turned down in confusion—his mind still buzzing. His vision was all blurry and
doubling as his head swam from the afterglow of whatever they had just done. He almost didn’t
want to get up, he was too comfortable where he was, but when he heard Kettle Corn mention the
paddles, he frowned and looked around, squinting to make his eyes uncross.
“Wh—What?” He asked.
“The paddles!” He heard Kettle Corn scream. The filly stopped her pacing long enough to look into
the distance. She stood up straight suddenly and waved her hooves in the air, jumping and only
causing the boat to shake and shudder and more water to splash across their bodies. “Hey!” She
screamed at the top of her lungs. “HEY! OVER HERE!”
Pulling himself up, Skeedaddle was just in time to catch glimpse of an orange canoe passing at a
distance, manned by a couple of fillies from Kettle Corn’s cabin. They both seemed to look in their
direction and then erupt into giggles.
Their distant voices drifted in on the waves as the pair paddled along, drawing further into the
distance before turning a corner along the coast.
Enjoy, you two~
The giggling trailed off into the distance, leaving them alone with their thoughts—to which Kettle
Corn blushed, giving Skeedaddle a glance.
Skeedaddle’s eyes were drawn to a flick behind her and he realised Kettle Corn had just flicked her
tail back into the down position—a dribble of their mixed fluids still trailing in little rivulets from
between her legs: the signs of their prior activities.
Blushing himself, Skeedaddle rolled back onto his back and took a deep breath to clear his head.
Though his vision was still a little blurry at least the stars were beginning to recede and the cool air
of the lake was especially helping.
When it was starting to feel like he could sit up again and not lose all the blood to his head, he
swallowed and sat up, pressing a hoof to his forehead. His horn ignited to send out a tendril to grasp
around the handles of the oars.
Camp Colt Part 4: Knocked Up the Creek
25
“Have you looked—” He stopped suddenly, realising what had happened. He was about to say ‘It’s
right here’ but it had become immediately dawned on him that he didn’t know where here was. It
was like they had just vanished, or...
Skeedaddle’s eyes turned towards the last place he’d remembered them: off the side of the boat.
But maybe--
His eyes darted to the inside of the boat, doing a quick inventory. Other than the few ropes and life
preservers—that neither of them had thought to use—it was basically just himself and Kettle Corn, a
filly who was becoming increasingly more frazzled by the second as she awaited his response.
Evidently, the look on his face wasn’t helping matters.
“Oh fuck.”
Kettle seemed to read his mind as she immediately whines. “Oh my Celestia!” Throwing herself
against the side of canoe, the whole boat lurched and threw Skeedaddle with her—“I can’t believe
you dropped them!”
“W-Wait!” Skeedaddle gasped and screamed at the same time. “I dropped them!?”
He tossed a hoof out and caught himself with a foreleg against the railing—His other hoof almost
punched Kettle Corn in the side of the head as he held her back from tipping them both into the
lake. He then turned her to face him head on. “Y-You’re going to sink us!” he blurted, then
immediately followed up with, “What do you mean that I dropped them!? You came onto me! This is
all your fault!”
Kettle Corn shot him a glare—her pout more than obvious as she turned a deep shade of red. “W-
Well what am I supposed to do?” she said.
Skeedaddle paused to think. Adjusting himself, he pulled his rump back under him and positioned to
hide his shaft. Their fur was still matted and sticky, and evidently somepony was still a little too
excited to go back inside, so Skeedaddle made a point of hiding his head between his legs.
“M-Maybe if I...” Turning his eyes away from the filly beside him, he cast a tentative string of magic
into the water and reached down towards the bottom...wherever that may be.
The lake bed was, unsurprisingly, deep. A lot deeper than expected. It took all of his concentration to
reach all the way down, and try as he might, he couldn’t make out anything other than the cold
wetness the waves.
There was a brush against his field—an alien texture tickled the edge, and then a skittering as
something retreated into the darkness. Skeedaddle yelped and jumped back. Cancelling his magic,
he crumpled into the opposite side of the boat.
Camp Colt Part 4: Knocked Up the Creek
26
He had a close miss knocking his head against the railing and Kettle Corn let out a startled squeak—
Looking up, he saw the filly staring at him with wide eyes, her hooves pressed over her mouth to
suppress the squeal she’d just made. “Wh-What was that?” Kettle asked.
Skeedaddle frowned. Calling back the memory, a chill ran up his spine. “N-Nothing, he said...”
Getting back to his hooves, Skeedaddle crossed the boat—side-stepping around Kettle Corn to get to
the head of the canoe. He glanced down at the waves and then up at the horizon, cupping a hoof
over his eyes for the sun. “I—” He wet his lips. “I-I don’t think we’re getting those—Let’s just wait.
I’m sure somepony will realise we’re gone.”
“Oh, okay…” Kettle Corn sounded a little disappointed, or relieved—there was a certain breathiness
in her tone that made Skedaddle raise an eyebrow. He glanced back at her. “Are you ok—”
Kettle Corn was sitting on the other bench—this time against her haunches and curled like a cat as
she inspected her... filly bits—Just thinking about them made Skeedaddle’s cheeks burn, and his
entire body to get hot and flustered.
His nostrils flared as he watched her press a hoof into her folds and then gently rub up along its
length, squeezing a little more the white cream out from her. The thick substance trickled from her
opening, smearing on her hoof and dabbing the bench in small blobs, mixed with clear secretions.
“Wh...” Skeedaddle started. He started to move towards her, to tell her to stop, but the words died
in the back of his throat as he watched Kettle Corn gently rubbing her lips in small circles in front of
him.
This continued for another few second that felt like they would drag on for hours, punctuated by
nothing but the lapping of the waves and the gentle schlick, schlick, schlick of Kettle Corn’s hoof
against her filly hood. The let out a little hum, and was opening her mouth in a moan when her eyes
clicked up at him and she stopped, frozen suddenly.
A bright red blush erupted across the filly’s features—Kettle felt like he’d turned into a tomato—and
she immediately whipped her hoof away, clamping her hind legs together, huffing.
“What were you—”
Kettle Corn blushed. “W-Well... I have to clean it somehow,” she said.
Skeedaddle’s jaw worked itself for a second. He remained there for a second as Kettle Corn’s eyes
remained trained on him, her blush refusing to abate. Her vision flicked to between his legs and then
until, finally, the pin dropped.
“O-Oh.”
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27
And he turned around.
~ ~ ~
The waves were lapping against the side of the boat. A gull squawked loudly overhead as it blew past
on the wind and the sun’s light was starting to get dim as it slowly dipped below the horizon, the
yellowing wisps of light dancing across the lake’s surface as Kettle Corn looked out over the handrail,
the blanket draped tightly over her withers as the sound of the boat’s motor hummed away in the
background.
She could faintly sense the whispering of some other colt and filly over the shoulder as one of the
camp masters gave directions back to the port, but she paid it little heed—Kettle’s hoof had gone
back to wondering between her legs as she wiped gently at the soft mound.
Her body was still tingling slightly, hot and uncomfortable—she didn’t want to say it earlier to
Skedaddle when they were in the boat, but her moment of relief had barely lasted more than ten
minutes. If anything, finally getting to be with a colt and filled with his... She swallowed. Stuff only
seemed to make her condition worse.
Her heart seemed to be racing uncontrollably one minute, and then practically stopping the next—
she felt clammy and jittery, and any time she got a whiff of a colt she could feel her tail beginning to
flick aside all of its own volition—in summary, to quote her classmates, being in heat was bucking
torture.
She pressed her hoof against her labia, gently wiping it up to get a little smear of the secretions.
Though she’d done her best to clean as much of it as she could, every time she sat down she could
feel a fresh trickle of thick stuff leaking out of her, though it made her curious.
Bringing her hoof up to where she could see it, the liquid was thick and gloopy. It was white and
clung to her hoof like a sort of glue and there was, surprisingly, a lot of it. Had Skeedaddle really shot
all of that inside of her?
A jolt of excitement ran up Kettle Corn’s back and she felt her tail twitch under the blanket. She
immediately started to blush and pushed the thought to the back of her mind—then she brought the
hoof absentmindedly closer to her face.
There was just something enchanting about it. About this... Her muzzle scrunched as she tried to
remember the right word for it: Cum.
It was a funny word. She’d always heard other fillies in her school talking about it, about their
boyfriend’s cum. Usually it was referring to getting it on them, the mess it made, the way it smelled,
the way it tasted.
She brought the hoof closer to her mouth. Just a bit. Just enough to get a whiff.
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28
She sniffed.
It didn’t smell bad. It was a bit of a tangy scent, not too different than what she’d picked up from
Skeedaddle earlier—another twitch of her tail had the blanket tug at her withers—but like this it was
just so much more intense.
Dare she?
Bringing the hoof just a little closer, she opened her mouth just a bit. She stuck her tongue out and
angled the tip of her hoof to bring it close to one of the bigger chunks and—
Somepony sat down beside her. “Key, it’s Kettle Corn, right?”
“Ack—! N-Nothing!” She squeaked, just about jumping off the boat—Kettle Corn whipped the hoof
away from her mouth and sat on it, pressing the cum into her coat as she turned to address the new
pony—grinning widely to cover up her very obvious blush. “I-I mean...
The colt was looking at her with a raised eyebrow but he hadn’t seemed to have noticed anything
out of the ordinary, thankfully.
She readjusted her smile, relaxing somewhat. “...Y-Yes?” she said.
The colt in question looked like he must have been at least three years older than her. Her was a
pegasus with a light blue coat and a slicked back mane. He looked at her another moment before
cracking a smile and leaning back coolly. He ran a hoof through his mane.
“You know...” he said. Scooting a little closer to her side, he looked out over the railing at the setting
sun. Kettle couldn’t help but notice the unique scent of the older colt. It was like the smell of fresh
dew mixed with upturned morning dirt. It was an oddly earthy tone for pegasus, but that was what
she liked about it.
It was on instinct when she leaned her head against his shoulder. A little tremor ran up her spine as
she felt his fur against her cheek. It was soft and feathery, like a downy pillow, and oh so—He
inhaled suddenly and gently nudged her back to an upright position, shifting slightly to put a little
space between them on the bench.
Looking at his face, Kettle could tell his nose had picked something up, likely her. Their eyes met and
she blushed.
He continued: “You’re lucky Poppy saw you guys when she did.” He gestured at the lake. “It gets
pretty cold out here at night, and who knows how long it might have been until somepony realised
you were gone.”
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29
“Oh—Oh...” Kettle Corn mouthed under her breath. Frowning slightly, she lowered her head, ears
drooping. “Yeah... sorry...” she whispered.
Just then a cold wind blew over the two of them. It made her shiver and he ruffled his feathers—
obviously trying to look like he wasn’t affected by it. Still, she got a smirk when he caught her
staring.
He put his hoof over her withers and to share in the warmth—as if she even needed it—but Kettle
couldn’t bring herself to push him away, instead letting his warm fur rest against her own through
the soft blanket.
“I’m Rumble, by the way,” she heard him say. He had held out a hoof to her, but upon looking at her
properly, Rumble frowned and lowered his foreleg. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.
Kettle’s blush deepened. “Ah—” She opened her mouth, but thinking better of it—even as a shudder
ran up her spine from the spot his hoof had brushed against her withers—she closed her mouth and
turned her head away. “No, no, I’m fine,” she lied.
Rumble furrowed his brow. He was almost five quarters her age. There was absolutely no fooling
him—Oh Luna, why couldn’t she have been left alone, just this one. “You don’t look fine,” he said.
‘And you certainly don’t smell fine,’ Kettle whispered under her breath. She buried her face slightly
further into the blanket, pulling her pigtails over her face as she did, tugging at the corners to pull
them tightly around herself.
Maybe if she made herself small enough and pretended to not be there he would give up and
wander off—she assured herself. Still, the smell of the colt was becoming overwhelming as Kettle’s
fur started to mat.
Despite the colt breeze she was starting to feel warm under the blanket, but still she held it tight,
and still he persisted.
Pouting, he spoke up a little more hesitantly this time, whispering in her ear with a stutter. “Y-You
don’t have to be ashamed of it, you know,” he said.
The fur on her mane, her pigtails, everything on the back of Kettle Corn’s neck—even the blanket
would have bristled if it could as Kettle’s entire body stiffened. She shot the colt the most disgusting
stare she could muster from between the folds, and then slowly pulled the cover away from her
muzzle as she whispered back. “Wh-What do you know about anything I’ve been going through?”
He chuckled.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he blushed himself and whispered. “Y-You’d be surprised...” Then,
giving a short laugh, he continued... “You could say I’ve had a little experience in the matter.”
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Kettle Corn’s eyes widened. She sat up, glancing at the colt with a look of astonishment. “Y-You
have?”
“Yeah,” He nodded, blush still not abating—His wings were also conspicuously erect at the moment,
and Kettle Corn had to suppress a snicker as the colt fidgeted uncomfortably—evidently, he was
having about as much difficulty with the subject as she was.
When he was finally comfortable with his wings behind him—where they wouldn’t get caught up in
the blanket, he continued. “I’ve had some experience, mostly through my brother, and, uh—” He
coughed. “Taking care of relatives, but I get the gist of it. Hot and an uncontrollable urge to f—”
He struggled with the word for a moment, but Kettle didn’t skip a beat, and she shot out the word in
tandem with him. “Fuck”—She was leaning forward, hanging on his every sentence.
Noticing this, the colt leaned back, pushing a hoof against Kettle’s chest to keep her at hoof’s length.
She whined a little bit at not being allowed to get any closer to him—but a little, quiet, sane part of
her brain managed to grab hold long enough to correct course as she rolled back onto her haunches.
The bench was getting slick and the smell of her heat was getting noticeable even to her.
She muttered. “S-Sorry...”
“It’s okay,” he said, “Like I said, experience.”
They shared a knowing glance.
The wind picked up and as the boat slowly began to change direct, a cool spray of fresh water was
drizzled across Kettle’s muzzle and face—she blinked the blurriness out of her vision and licked the
moisture on her lips, letting the little bit of fishy air carry away the scent of her arousal, and a little of
the heat with it.
In the silence, she spoke—hesitantly at first. “C-Can you keep a secret?” she asked.
She still wasn’t sure if she could trust him, but at this point, she wasn’t even sure if she could trust
herself.
The colt blinked but nodded without question. “Of course.”
“S-Since you... know how this works...” It was hard to think of the right words. Everything she came
up with died on the tip of her tongue and Kettle Corn was left sitting there for a second longer, her
eyes drifting across the horizon, before she settled back on the colt beside her.
“...Yes?” he asked.
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31
“When I was in the boat with Skeedaddle earlier...” She gestured, gesturing towards him, “Y-You
know...” The waters were about as empty as ever, not a single pony to be seen for miles as she
gestured a hoof around them. “When we were alone, for...”
She glanced back at the colt only to find him frowning and looking at her like she was speaking in
Greek. “And?” he asked.
She facehoofed. “Oh, for the love of...” Letting the hoof drag down her face, Kettle repeated, a little
more clearly this time: “A colt. A filly. Alone. In heat.”
That was finally enough, as the pin dropped and he inhaled. “...ooooh...”
“Yeah.” She nodded.
“You fucked him.”
Kettle Corn blanched. Blushing, she quipped. “W-Well don’t say it like that!”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“But don’t say it like that!” she shouted, barely above a whisper.
There was a loud clatter of something on the deck that made both of them stiffen—Shutting their
mouths, Kettle watched as Skeedaddle rounded the corner behind them, trotting past them with
what looked like a mound of ropes dangling in his aura.
She managed to catch his eye and Skeedaddle paused. Sweat beaded his brow as he came to a stop
just a few meters away from them. He glanced from Kettle to the colt beside her, and she heard him
audibly swallow before he started to back away from them. Then, wordlessly doing an about-face,
he continued in the opposite directions, ropes in tow.
She let out her breath, and Rumble spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. “So...” He said,
hesitantly at first as he scooted a little closer to her. Kettle Corn caught him eyeing her and a pair of
butterflies bubbled up in her stomach. “...You’re saying you had sex with Skeedaddle?” he asked.
She leaned away, trembling slightly from the brush of his fur against hers. Her blush deepened and
she almost had to force the words out, squeaking a tiny: “...Yes...”
“Well...” He thought for a moment. “Did it work?”
“What do you mean ‘did it work’?”
“I mean...” Rumble averted his vision, his cheeks burning bright red. There was a cool breeze that
blew a fresh spray of seawater across them, and the jingle of some bells announced they were
getting closer to the coast. “...Did it end your heat?” he finally asked.
Camp Colt Part 4: Knocked Up the Creek
32
“No...” Kettle Corn began, but then stopping herself, she frowned. There was no denying it. “Well,
kinda,” she said. “It did work for a bit, but then it all just came back”—
“I see,” He nodded.
— “No, you don’t get it!” She whined, “It felt worse! Y-You know what it’s like? Do you have any idea
what it’s like to be hot and twitchy, unable to stay in the same spot for two seconds, constantly
having to—” She licked her lips, unintentionally getting a whiff of the pegasus’ delirious scent. Trying
to hold her urges back—she didn’t even care that the bench was drenched. She pressed her thighs
together, trembling as she tried to quell the quakes. The words tumbled out of her mouth: “To be
constantly thinking about—about—” She grimaced. It felt so dirty to admit, and yet she’d just done
it. “Sex. I want to fuck.” Her throat cracked as she looked up at Rumble.
The colt, his eyes wide, opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, grabbing the colt by the
shoulders as repeated. “I’m constantly surrounded by colts and I so, so, desperately want to fuck, I
need to fuck. I need to fuck y—"
Realising her position she bit down on her tongue, clamping her mouth shut as she squeaked out
quickly, “S-Sorry...” Releasing Rumble from her grip, she forced herself to sit back down and pressed
her face into her hooves and sobbed. “I’m s-So, sorry... I-I couldn’t—”
Again. How could she have almost done it again?! The second time she finds a colt who it
sympathetic to her and all she’s able to think about is f- Doing that thing with him...
Holding her face in her hooves—her rum was still burning with that needful ache, desperately
begging her to do something about it. She pressed it into her own fluids on the bench and repeated
her apology “Sorry... I’m so sorry...”
“H-Hey... It’s okay...” She felt Rumble’s hoof on her back, followed by a nuzzle as he pulled her into a
sideway hug. His scent was all over her, she almost wanted to push him away but didn’t have the
strength to do it. She heard him whispering in her ear. “Did you take anything for it?” he asked.
It took a moment for her to put together what he was asking, but as soon as she did she shook her
head. “Nu-uh...” she mumbled. Looking up, she felt the trickles of tears wetting her cheeks. Rumble
was staring at her with a concerned look on his face.
Kettle wiped her nose a little, putting on a thinly-veiled smile. “M-Mom said she’d get me some of
that tea she used when—When she had me, but the store was out. I-I thought I could handle it,
but—”
“So you’re just bearing through with it?”
She nodded.
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33
“Th-The things is...I don’t know if I can take it. I’m dying here, Rumble, and—and—If I—”
Her vision started to blur and Rumble was quick to squeeze her hoof, giving her a little hug and
smile. He used a hoof to pull her chin up and make her look into his eyes. “Hey, hey, It’s okay,” he
said.
“Sk-Skeedaddle—” Nothing was stopping the tears from welling in her eyes. “I just couldn’t control
myself. I pounced him, and I-I-I-I know I’m not supposed to, but I had to have sex and I’m worried
that he’ll—He hates me—”
“it’s okay, Kettle—” Rumble repeated. He wiped the tears from her eyes and gave her another, much
tighter, squeeze—As his hooves swapped around her, Kettle almost felt a sense of relief wash over
her, and she inhaled his scent—That beautiful earthy sea air was refreshing, sobering, almost, even
with the hormones dancing in the air.
Rumble pulled away from her, sitting back on his side of the bench. He looked up and down her,
holding onto her hooves as he whispered. “These things happen.”
“Do they?” She asked, almost incredulously, and he nodded with a conviction.
“Yes. They do. All the time.”
Then he paused for a moment, as if considering something. Whispering under his breath, Rumble
said, “I shouldn’t really, but...” Looking back at her, he levelled a question: “The filly’s cabin is the
same layout as the colts’, right?”
Raising an eyebrow, Kettle Corn asked, “M-Maybe. Why?”
“A filly’s first time should be special, something shared with somepony you know and trust. It
shouldn’t be—” He frowned, looking over his shoulder in the direction Skeedaddle had gone. “Like
that—So if you leave your bathroom window open tonight, I promise, I’ll show you a proper time. I’ll
help you deal with this heat in the only way I know how, promise.”
“I—I don’t know if I should...
“What if it ends up the same way as Skeedaddle?”
“I’ll make sure it won’t. This won’t be like your first time, okay? It’s entirely up to you whether you
do it. I won’t force you, but the offer is there if you need it, alright?”
Just then the boat’s horn sounded causing both of them to jolt to attention. The boat’s engines
changed tones as it started to decelerate and the sounds of ponies clobbering around below the
deck alerted them to the flicker of torches in the darkness. As if by a clock, the shape of the pier took
form out of the mist as they pulled back into the campgrounds.
Camp Colt Part 4: Knocked Up the Creek
34
The sounds of the water lapping against the hull and other canoes rapping in the waves filled their
ears. Kettle Corn rubbed her eyes. She pulled the blanket back around herself and stood to
disembark.
She nodded back at Rumble. “I’ll think about it,” she whispered.
Camp Colt Part 5: A visit in the night
35
Part 5: A visit in the night
“...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 Cherry Pop’s chagrin. Poppy
Seed threw in a “We were soaked!” at the end before joining in with everypony else laughing.
Cherry Pop pouted. Still clearly very damp and flustered, she buzzed her wings and pointed an
accusing hoot 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!?”
Cherry’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.
Camp Colt Part 5: A visit in the night
36
“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.
Camp Colt Part 5: A visit in the night
37
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 clamped 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.
Camp Colt Part 5: A visit in the night
38
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 listing 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!”
Camp Colt Part 5: A visit in the night
39
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...”
To Be Continued