Pinkie's Last Two Braincells
"Okay, Pinkie, I need you to listen to me."
Pinkie stopped her spinning in the stool she was laying in, peeling herself up to look up at her lab partner with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't like Sci-Twi to stop working to do anything, least of all talk to Pinkie, so this was cause for alarm. As such, Pinkie did her very best to sit up straight, turn to face Sci-Twi's bed that sat across the dorm room, and focus. For some reason, Sci-Twi was dressed to leave, in a rather nice blue dress and black heels. That's funny, Pinkie thought. Sci-Twi has always gone on record as hating heels, and would only ever wear them when absolutely necessary.
"Hey, Sci!" said Pinkie, waving to her dear friend, who for some reason seemed more annoyed to see Pinkie than anything. Must be the shoes hurting her feet. "Hey, you're all filled up, looking good! Where ya going?"
"Pinkie! We were literally just talking about this!" groaned Sci-Twi. "What am I going to do with you… In any case, I have a very important meeting today about my enrollment into the aerospace engineering program. That means I'm going to be gone all day, okay? And that means… Pinkie, what does that mean?"
"Uhhh…" Pinkie was a lot smarter than the average person would give her credit for, but her one weakness was being put on the spot. Anytime someone asked her a question she wasn't ready to answer (especially if it was a question that she evidently was supposed to know), her brain would just turn to TV static. "It means… I should ask you your takeout order now, so it'll be ready when you get home? What, you like green curry, right? I like it really spicy, myself, but—"
"Pinkie!"
"Okay, okay, you can text me your order, geez!" Pinkie sat up a little straighter, scratching her head and doing her absolute best to force a thought out. Unfortunately for her, and for Sci-Twi's patience, nothing of use was coming to her. "Fine, I give up. What does it mean?"
"It means that I won't be here to write your paper for you. And that means you have to focus and get it done yourself," explained Sci. Pinkie let out an "oooh" as the memories flooded back, flashes of the essay she needed to finish in order to pass her class. "Remember, we already did the first half of it together, and I got all of your sources together for you. All you have to do is write a conclusion. Shouldn't take you longer than an hour if you stay focused."
"Right! That dumb history thing…" Pinkie shrugged, then turned in an attempt to return to her regularly scheduled nonsense. "I'll get around to it…"
"No, Pinkie, you're going to do it now. We worked too hard on this together!" Sci-Twi shook her head, once again blown away by her friend's lack of concern in regard to academia. "Listen, if I could stay here to help you, I would, but it's really important that I have this meeting today. So I'm trusting you, Pinkie, to focus on your work and finish your paper while I'm away."
"But Sci… that's boring!"
"Tough turnips, you need to do it," said Sci firmly. She frowned when she noticed Pinkie was, very poorly, holding back her snickers. "What's so funny?"
"Heh… Tough turnips, that sounds funny!" Pinkie shrugged. "And you're never funny! Not on purpose, anyway."
"Okay, so I hid the remote, I stole your phone charger, and I put a blocker on the computer to keep you from getting distracted watching cat videos." Finally, it seemed that Sci-Twi was hitting her upper limit on Pinkie's preferred brand of silliness. "And I made sure all of your cute outfits are in the wash, so you won't be tempted to go out and do anything short of finishing your paper. I'll give you the code and locations of your hidden items once you email me a screenshot of your finished essay, and not a second sooner. Do I make myself clear?"
"Uggggggh…" groaned Pinkie, flopping back in her chair and slowly rotating. "You sound like my mom!"
"Pinkamena Diane Pie…"
"Alright, alright! Paper done, time for fun, got it!" Despite her rather stern scolding, Pinkie was in good spirits. Sci-Twi was, mostly, being a good sport about her teasing, and what she was asking was actually quite reasonable. She could do this, no problem. "You have nothing to worry about, Sci. I'll have the paper done lickety-split!"
Sci-Twi stared at her friend with every bit of suspicion that a claim that dubious deserved, but, after a moment of contemplation, she gave Pinkie a little nod. She backed away to the door, still staring daggers at her slacker roommate, but eventually turning her attention to the door. She grabbed her purse and, after sparing Pinkie one last suspicious leer, Sci-Twi opened the door and stepped out of the dorm.
“I’ll see you soon, Pinkie,” said Sci-Twi as she left. “If you need any help at all, just email me and I’ll do what I can, okay?”
“Kay-kay! Have a good spaceship meeting, Sci!” called Pinkie, waving enthusiastically. She maintained her aggressive waving until quite a bit after the door had shut and Sci had walked away, only stopping when her arm started to give out on her. It was then that Pinkie decided to twirl back to face her computer and finally get to work. “Okay! Writing time! Gonna do the write! Let’s freaking goooooo!”
Pinkie proceeded to stare at her computer screen for nearly two minutes before realizing that she should probably open her document if she intended to finish the paper.
“Okay, okay, now we’re cooking with gas!” Still, Pinkie’s enthusiasm was unfettered, and she boldly scrolled to the bottom of the page so she could very quickly write her conclusion and then maybe re-binge Parks & Recreation. “Let’s see… Oh, ‘in conclusion’, that’s obvs… Um… Huh. What the heck am I talking about in this paper?”
Truth be told, Pinkie simply didn’t know. It’d been so long since she started the paper, she couldn’t even recall the prompt, nevermind the body of the essay. She could reread it, of course, but that would take ages (not to mention being super boring). So, with a degree of stubbornness that was unique to Pinkie, she decided she’d just, somehow, write the conclusion without rereading her previous writing.
“Come on, brain! You know this stuff, we just did it like a week ago!” complained Pinkie. She rapped on her own forehead, as if to rattle the thoughts into position. “Come on, nothing?! What the heck is going on up there?!”
Self-Control sighed as she fixed herself her third coffee of the day, sipping the intensely sweet black coffee with very little impact to her movements. Truth be told, Self-Control would need more than just three coffees to make it through the day. But, for now, Self-Control simply exited the surprisingly empty breakroom and stepped into the corridors of Brain Inc.
“Hm… It’s a bit quiet…”
Self-Control had a very similar appearance to Pinkie herself (The Boss, as she was known in Brain Inc.); A bit chubby, with soft features, bright blue eyes, and a lot of vibrant pink hair. Where she differed from her contemporaries at Brain Inc. was in the way she presented herself to the world. She was naturally a bit taller than many of her coworkers, and her crisp suit and pencil skirt only served to supplement her somewhat intimidating aura. Also contributing to that perception was the way she had straightened her hair and tied it back into a tight ponytail, containing the mess of pink locks (save for one stubborn tuft at the front that refused to stay tied down), the stern-looking glasses she wore, and her general grumpy demeanor.
Self-Control pursed her lips as she entered the office, thoroughly confused by the lack of workers she saw. For some reason, every single cubicle was completely deserted, not a soul to be found in the whole office. Considering it was 1 PM, with no naps scheduled, this was a strange occurrence. Even still, Self-Control didn’t make much of it, and she kept along her path to her cubicle. As she approached, and heard the sound of some video playing on her computer, Self-Control stifled a groan. Only one person would go out of their way to sneak into Self-Control’s cubicle to watch cat videos, and it was the sole person responsible for her crippling addiction to coffee.
“Heheheh! So cute!” The slightly obnoxious sound of snorting laughter floated from the cubicle, just as Self-Control rounded the corner into her own office space to see, just as she expected, the bane of her existence. “Ooh! Hey, Connie!”
“Hello, Impulse,” sighed Self-Control, looking her coworker up one way, then the other. Though all employees of Brain Inc. looked like The Boss (it’d be a bit odd if they looked like anyone else), for some reason, Impulse looked the most like the spirit of Pinkie. A bit shorter than the genuine article, and a skosh curvier, Impulse was like Pinkie Pie cranked to 11. Her energy was higher, her attitude even more bubbly, her pinks even pinker than the pinkest of Pinkies. She was the most “Pinkie” Pinkie to ever Pinkie Pie. “Is there something wrong with your computer?”
“Huh? Oh, nah, I was just on my way back from the vending machine, and I remembered this video I wanted to show you!” explained Impulse, barely even looking up at the woman who was, strictly speaking, her boss. Not that anyone, least of all Self-Control, had much power over someone like Impulse. “But I didn’t wanna forget, so I stopped here so I could email it to myself, and then when I got back to my desk, I’d email it to you, but then I got sidetracked by these other videos and—”
“Okay, forget I asked. How about this, instead?” Self-Control looked around the office one last time, as if to confirm that it was still entirely desolate. “Where is everyone? It’s not time for a sleep, there should be plenty of thinking going on here. What gives?”
“Hm? Oh, Boss gave everyone the rest of the day off,” said Impulse with a shrug. “Something about not being needed cause Sci-Twi was leaving today, I think. We’re in the dorm alone today, no thoughts required.”
“What? Why wasn’t I informed of this? And if everyone’s off, then why are you still here?”
“Well, we need at least two of us here to keep the lights on, I volunteered you and me!” Impulse grinned madly from ear to ear, entirely unphased by the look of abject horror painted across Self-Control’s face. “It’ll be just like the good old days!”
“Why in God’s name would you do that?! Why would everybody just up and leave?!” demanded Self-Control. “What if something important happens? What if we forgot to do something? What if—”
As Self-Control had her well-earned breakdown, the walls of the office began to rumble, and a glaring red light flared throughout the room. Immediately, Self-Control was on the case; She checked her company-issued ThoughtWatch (a smartwatch used to keep track of thoughts, dreams, and other such company business) to check the alert. True to her fears, it was an alert from up high; Someway, somehow, they’d forgotten the conclusion to Pinkie’s essay.
“Ugh… Okay, this is… Fine. It’s fine,” sighed Self-Control. With the use of her ThoughtWatch, she was able to find the necessary information with relative ease. Now, it was as simple as downloading it onto the brain for The Boss to use. “I found the files, we just need to get it to the Control Room. And, since The Boss evidently gave everyone but me a night off, The Control Room is going to be on lockdown, which means…”
“Ooh! You need my help!” exclaimed Impulse giddily. Self-Control stared at her coworker and, with no light or joy behind her tired eyes, chugged what remained of her coffee before giving a slight, almost invisible nod. Impulse saw this and nearly erupted with excitement. “Yes! It really is like the old days!”
“Just… go get your keycard and ThoughtWatch, and meet me at the elevator,” sighed Self-Control. “The sooner we get these answers to the Brain, the sooner we can move on to the next project.”
“Woo! Impy and Connie, partners in crime!” Impulse leaped to her feet and cartwheeled over to her cubicle, giggling madly to herself all the way.
Self-Control buried her face in her palm, the sinking feeling in her gut making her believe that this, unfortunately, really would be like the old days.
"And then I said, 'uh, no way, sister, I'm not that kinda girl', and then… Oh! We're here!"
"And not a second too soon…" Self-Control adjusted her glasses as the elevator came to a stop at the very top floor of Brain Inc., finally opening up into a short hallway with a locked door at the end. The Control Room. One day, Self-Control hoped, this room would be her office. For now, it was just another problem for her to solve. With a deep breath, she strode forward, her heels clicking against the linoleum and echoing through the empty corridor. “Hurry up, we’ve got work to do.”
“Yerp!” Impulse skipped out of the elevator, easily catching up to her disgruntled coworker. “So… What’s the plan of attack?”
“Plan of attack? What are you…” Self-Control rolled her eyes. “Just… Stay near me. Don’t break anything, don’t touch anything, don’t even look at anything. I just need you to open the door, and use your keycard to get past the security program. Then, I just have to download the files, and we can both go about our day.”
“Smart, smart. You were always good at this kinda thing.”
Self-Control didn’t answer, not for annoyance, but out of a genuine lack of response. The simple truth was, she wasn’t sure that she was good at this. If she was really good at this, she wouldn’t need to do this emergency download in the first place. If she was good at her job, the essay would be done, The Boss wouldn’t be struggling with her classes, and Self-Control would probably be in charge of Brain Inc. by now.
But, for better or for worse, she still had some work to do.
The two approached the door and, upon Self-Control’s direction, Impulse brought her special keycard to the scanner to open up the Control Room. Self-Control wasn’t entirely sure why only Impulse had access to the emergency clearance key card, but thankfully she hadn't misplaced it this time. There was an electronic buzz, and the doors to the Control Room Slid open, allowing Self-Control to lead the way into the room. There were rows of consoles, all of which were turned on and running with no one attending to them. Just ahead, against the back wall, was The Brainframe; The master console with a monstrously big screen and computer where all thoughts, feelings, memories, and opinions were regulated.
"Okay, now we just need to…" Self-Control frowned as she examined her Thought watch, sliding her finger across the smooth screen and its various menus. "What in the world? Where's the rest of it?"
"Huh?" Impulse slid into position beside Self-Control, leaning in to see the screen. "What's up, Connie?"
"The conclusion for the essay, half of it is missing now. I just had the whole thing before we got into the elevator, but now…" Self-Control let out a frustrated grunt. "It's like the data has been corrupted somehow."
"Hm…" Impulse touched a few buttons on Self-Control's watch, then nodded sagely. "Ah, I see your problem. You didn't opt out of the new automatic forgetting protocols. Whenever thoughts or memories are opened, they get scheduled for automatic deletion unless you opt out of it."
In that moment, any semblance of patience that Self-Control had evaporated into thin air.
"Why?! Why would we flag every thought to be automatically forgotten?!" demanded Self-Control. "Who thought that was a good idea?!"
"Well, storage was getting cluttered with a ton of garbo we don't need," explained Impulse with a shrug. "Especially bad memories. Like, remember last week, when that girl called The Boss annoying and said her hair was tacky?"
"What? No?"
"Exactly! It's much easier for the Emotional Trauma department if we just automatically delete the bad stuff, instead of sending everything in for Coping and Processing," explained Impulse. "Luckily, the deletion was interrupted when we stepped into the elevator, so we just need to restore the file. I've got just the program, here."
Impulse typed madly on her ThoughtWatch, with such speed and reckless abandon that Self-Control flatly refused to believe that she was actually accomplishing anything. But, before Self-Control could make any mention of her doubts, Impulse emerged with the file queued up on her ThoughtWatch.
“Ta-da! So I was working on this thing to help circulate more memories during sleep, but I haven’t quite worked it out just yet. Pretty much all it does is boot up at 2 AM and replay embarrassing stuff we said in middle school for no reason,” said Impulse with a shrug. “But! I edited the code to search through all the archived versions of the conclusion memory, so we can pull up the version right before it got corrupted!”
“Wow, that’s… That’s actually incredible.” Self-Control peered over her glasses suspiciously. “This could have been very useful in the past. Might’ve saved me a lot of paperwork”
“Eh, it’s not quite done yet. Right now, I can’t pull anything specific unless it’s less than 6 hours old. It’s a work in progress!” With one last flourish, Impulse plopped herself down into a waiting chair. “There ya go, we just have to wait for the conclusion to be restored, then it’ll automatically upload The Brainframe.”
“So we just have to wait then, hm?” Self-Control sighed, then took a seat at the console across the aisle from Impulse. She swiped a file from her ThoughtWatch to the console and immediately began tinkering with its contents. “Fine. At least I can get some work done in the meantime, there’s a lot of new cravings I’ve been trying to deal with and…”
Self-Control trailed off, because in the brief time since she began speaking, Impulse had decided to almost instantaneously appear beside her, nearly touching shoulders with her coworker.
“Um… Impulse?”
“Connie, are you mad at me?” asked Impulse, quite out of the blue. Naturally, Self-Control wasn’t expecting such a question, and so it took her a few to work out a response. “Cause it feels like you’re mad at me.”
“What makes you think I’m mad at you?” said Self-Control carefully. She knew she’d need to be cautious with how she approached the situation, given Impulse’s unpredictable nature.
“I dunno, just… We used to work together all the time! I can’t imagine working at Brain Inc. without you. And I thought we made a good team.” Impulse spun idly in her chair, boredly toying with the mess of pink curls that dangled in her face. “Nowadays, it feels like you’re avoiding me. You never want to take any assignments where we’d be on a team, and you even take unpaid overtime whenever I set up the office bar hop.”
“Impulse… It’s not like that, honestly. I’m not mad at you,” sighed Self-Control. “We’re… Well, we’re really different people, pretty much opposites, so I don’t really expect you to understand. Just try not to take it personally.”
“Try me.”
“Hm?”
“You said I wouldn’t understand,” said Impulse. “I’ve got $3 and a choccy milk that says otherwise.”
“Alright, fine. You want to know why I’ve been ‘avoiding’ you? Because I take my job seriously. Very seriously. And you don’t prioritize work all that much,” explained Self-Control. “And college… College has been harder on the company than I think anyone ever expected. There’s always something, some paper to write or exam to study for, and that means I have to work extra hard to stick to our projections until graduation. If not for me, The Boss might’ve dropped out, or flunked out, and that would be a disaster. If that happens, you know who gets blamed for it? Not you, because this isn’t your department. Not the Intel guys, because everyone knows how smart The Boss is. It all falls on me. As head of the Will and Temperance Division, it’s all my fault if anything goes wrong that could’ve been avoided. So, I guess I’ve just been a little high-strung.”
“I see. Well, for what it’s worth… I think you’re doing a great job. I couldn’t ever wear your shoes,” said Impulse. Self-Control muttered a quiet thanks, and Impulse nudged her with a cheeky little smirk. “And, just FYI, I work hard too, you know.”
“I didn’t mean to say—”
“I mean, I make so many messes for you to clean up, I’m getting tired just thinking of new ways to screw up your work!” Impulse grinned and, much to her pleasure, Self-Control gave a good-natured, faux-serious roll of the eyes, just barely holding back her chuckles. “Hey, Connie, you know what your problem is?”
“I’m overworked, underpaid, and constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown?”
“Mmmm… Sorta! All that stuff is probs true, but your problem is that you never let yourself relax!” explained Impulse. “If you’d just blow off some steam from time to time, maybe let your hair down a little, you’d find that work isn’t so daunting after all!”
“Blow off steam, huh? I suppose that makes sense,” mused Self-Control. “What do you have in mind?”
Before Self-Control could even attempt to prepare herself, she felt a body land in her lap; When she looked up, it was Impulse straddling her who, after a sly little wink, leaned forward to kiss her coworker. Self-Control was very much so taken aback, to such an extent that she froze for a moment when her tongue brushed Impulse’s. Finally, after a few more moments of awkwardly tense kissing, Self-Control let her eyes flutter shut, and her hands gently land on Impulse’s wide, curvy hips.
As their lips smacked loudly and messily against one another’s, Impulse grabbed Self-Control’s wrists and guided her hands up to caress her soft, voluptuous chest, inviting her to squeeze and grope to her heart’s content. A soft, shaky little moan left Self-Control’s mouth, which morphed into a whimper when Impulse pulled away, grinning down on her coworker like the devious little menace she truly was.
“Why’d you stop?” huffed Self-Control, adjusting her crooked glasses with her trembling hands. Her cheeks were already flushed red, and her blush only bloomed more intensely the longer Impulse stared at her with that smug, saucy smirk. “This whole thing was your idea!”
“Well, based on how excited ‘Connie Jr.’ seems to be,” said Impulse. “I figured you may want to move on to the main event, so to speak.”
Self-Control blushed even brighter as the realization began to dawn on her; That throbbing, thrumming, pulsing feeling wasn’t just her heart pounding in her chest. It was her cock rising to salute, easily ripping through her panties and standing proudly erect past her snug skirt. She buried her face in her palms, which seemed to just tickle Impule, who could barely contain her giggles as she clambered off of Self-Control’s lap and slid to the ground just in front of her.
Impulse dove down beneath Self-Control’s skirt, her lips parting so that she could take Self-Control's fat, heavy balls into her mouth. Self-Control let out a moan, her soft tones in stark contrast to messy, sloppy noises that Impulse produced. It was an almost animalistic desire that motivated Impulse’s actions, with her plump lips and soft tongue moving with equal parts vigor and intention. She giggled deviously in between her lips wetly kissing at Self-Control’s sack, only pulling away when she felt Self-Control’s hand atop her head.
“No hands, Connie. You just sit there and let me handle things, okay?” Impulse slowly stood up, unzipping her skirt as she did so. The garment hit the ground, baring Impulse’s soft, doughy backside, as well as her own bulging cock stuffed haphazardly into her panties. Self-Control’s eyes went wide at the sight of Impulse’s ass, the way that the dimpled pink cheeks absolutely consumed the black thong that she wore. Again, Impulse giggled, and made good use of her assets by swinging her shapely bottom around and down into Self-Control’s lap. Her cock went upright, landing gently in the heavenly canyon between Impulse’s wiggly, wobbly cheeks. “I promise, you’ll like what I do.”
“O-okay. No hands. Sounds… good…” Self-Control could barely get her words out, and that was before Impulse slowly worked her hips up and down, sliding a thick pillar of pink meat between its two lovely pillows. She whimpered, at Impulse’s mercy, and she blushed an even more vibrant shade of red when the tip of her cock produced a fat gob of precum. Impulse seemed to take this as some sort of sign, and she worked her hips faster, wiggling her ass and clapping her cheeks against Self-Control’s fat cock. “Hngh… Geez, Imps, your ass…”
“Heheh. You called me Imps. That must mean it’s working!” Even as she continued to twerk on her coworker’s dick, Impulse tugged her thong to the side of her generous ass, leaving nothing between her holes and Self-Control’s cock except space and opportunity. “I think you might need a little more than just my honey buns. So, if you don’t mind…”
Impulse raised her hips and, in one deft, seamless transition, slid her eagerly waiting cunt onto Self-Control’s length. It was a tight fit, and a bit of a struggle to stuff so much cock into her at once, but Impulse was never one to back down from a challenge. She bounced on Self-Control’s cock, forcing a bit more of the mighty spear into her hole with each downward motion. Moans filled the room, drowned out by the wet sounds of flesh on flesh, of cock sliding in, and out, and in, and out.
“F-Fuck… Oh my God, Imps…” breathed Self-Control. Though she was instructed to leave her hands at her side, she ironically couldn’t control herself, and she somewhat subconsciously wrapped her arms around Impulse’s middle, pulling her in closer. “You feel so good…”
“Mhhmmm… You’re not too bad, yourself, partner,” giggled Impulse, her cock straining and drooling against the fabric of her panties. She reached down and gently cupped Self-Control’s weighty nuts in her palm. She could almost feel the load working its way out of the warm, pulsating orbs, and she did everything in her power to get it out. Impulse threw her ass back onto Self-Control with increased vigor, the loud clap of her ass bouncing against her partner echoing through the empty Control Room. She could feel Self-Control under her, twitching, moaning, more desperate for relief than the woman had ever realized. “What’s up, Connie? Getting close?”
“S-so close…” moaned Self-Control. “Are you… Can I…?”
“Don’t worry about me, partner. Go on ahead, you need this.” Impulse threw back her head, burying Self-Control’s head in her wild mess of hair. Now, there was no escape for Self-Control even if she wanted it, which suited Impulse just fine; She squeezed Self-Control’s nuts a bit more firmly and whispered breathily into her ear. “Go ahead, Connie. I want all of that fucking cum…”
In another out-of-character display, Self-Control lost herself in that moment; She gripped Impulse tightly around the waist and fired her hips forward like a woman possessed. She slammed into Impulse’s ass with all the force she could muster, and each thrust simply bounced her right back without Impulse budging even an inch. It wasn’t long at all before Self-Control let out a muffled, ecstatic shriek, and she finally came. With each pulse of cum, Impulse squeezed those fat nuts, working every last drop out of her friend that she could. After what felt like ages, Self-Control finally stopped twitching, and she went limp in her seat.
“Yep. I figured, but it’s nice to know for sure,” giggled Impulse, sliding off of Self-Control’s length. Cum leaked from her pussy and down her legs, and, when she was sure that Self-Control was watching, she slapped her ass hard enough to jiggle both cheeks like a Jell-O salad. “This gal’s still got it.”
“I can’t believe… You and me… In the office…” Self-Control chuckled. “Oh, man, thank God they can’t replace me, or else I’d be fired first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, quit being so dramatic, it’s not like…” Impulse trailed off, looking not at her partner, but to the Brainframe. “Uh… Connie? Sci-Twi is back, and she’s yelling at The Boss.”
“What?!” Self-Control jumped up from her seat, mouth agape at what she saw; True to Impulse’s report, the Brainframe screen displayed a very annoyed Sci-Twi, her arms crossed and her foot tapping with a quickly diminishing amount of patience. Self-Control ran over to the Brainframe console, with Impulse very close behind her. “Impulse, when did the finished conclusion upload to the Brainframe?”
“Considering I forgot to click ‘yes’ for the automatic upload thing?” Impulse chuckled sheepishly, then hit a single solitary button on her ThoughtWatch. “Just now…”
“Oh, God… What the heck are we going to do?!” Self-Control slapped a palm to her forehead, scrambling through her files for an answer. “We have to say something, or else Sci-Twi is gonna kill us!”
“Ooh! Ooh! Can I answer? I never get to answer!”
“There’s a reason for that…”
“Hey, we’re already screwed, aren’t we?” argued Impulse. “How could I possibly make this situation worse? May as well let me try!”
“I… You know what? That’s hard to argue with,” admitted Self-Control. “So, I suppose, if you want, you can—”
Before Self-Control had even a chance of ever finishing her thought, Impulse lived up to her namesake and slammed her fist onto the nearest red button. She grinned, very much pleased with herself, while Self-Control stared, mouth agape in abject horror.
“Impulse, I’m about to have a panic attack, so please have a very good answer to this next question,” said Self-Control carefully. “What in God’s name did you just make her say?”
Impulse smiled from ear to ear, looking boldly forth at the Brainframe screen before she quite proudly proclaimed her answer.
“I have no clue!”
“Well, Pinkie? I’m waiting.”
Pinkie blinked, and the situation seemed to flood back to her in one great wave. She had forgotten the conclusion for her essay, but after ages of thinking, managed to remember it, word for word. Unfortunately, she managed to do so roughly thirty seconds after Sci-Twi returned to the dorm, and very justifiably asked why the conclusion hadn’t been written yet. Panic began to set in, a panic that Pinkie tried to fight back. This was fine, it was okay. She just needed to think of something, anything to say to keep Sci-Twi from ripping her head off. Something genuine, something disarming, something so unabashedly “Pinkie Pie” that Sci-Twi would have no choice but to let this whole thing slide.
In an instant, just the thought popped into her mind, and not a second too soon.
“Oh, I got, like, super horny. Couldn’t really focus,” said Pinkie with a shrug. “Hey, why don’t we go down on each other, and then I can finish my essay!”
Sci-Twi opened her mouth to respond, but despite being a supergenius, she couldn’t think of a single good response to such a thing. After a few moments of stunned consideration, finally, Sci-Twi sighed.
“Fine. Today was super stressful, I could go for some unwinding,” said Sci-Twi. “But once we’re done, it’s essay time, okay?”
“Woo-hoo! Lemme get between those legs, Sci!”
And there, just as Pinkie began to descend onto her intellectual friend’s petite, sultry body, if you strained your ears very hard, a voice could be heard from somewhere deep in Pinkie’s strange, confusing, beautiful mind.
“Heck yeah, I’m so good at this!”