Daring Doo's Impersonator
(So, here we are, once again. At the start of a magical journey. This is a tale that will span the breadth of the universe, leaving no star unexplored. We'll see the mysteries of existence unraveled before our very eyes! ... Or, we'll watch Scootaloo do something inappropriate.)
Scootaloo looked at her idol with a look of incomprehensible horror written plainly on her face. The cyan pegasus had a wide smile on her face, her eyes barely concealing the mirth that threatened to burst through. Scootaloo rubbed her hoof in circles slowly, before she looked up at Rainbow Dash once again.
“Are you sure that’s the best way to be like Daring? I mean, she did stuff other than raid tombs, right?” The suddenly sage-like pegasus shook her head, the small frown shattering all the hopes that Scootaloo had been fostering. “Couldn’t I...” The filly pauses, lost in thought for a moment, before she tries again. “Or maybe...” Again, she falters before falling silent. A resigned sigh escapes her, and she utters her question rhetorically, already knowing what the answer was. “Really?”
“Yeah, Scoots. If you want to have even a chance of being as cool as me, or Daring Doo, you’ll have to explore a tomb. And there’s only one I can think of that’s not in the Everfree.”
“But... Granny Smith? She’s... old. And I’m just a filly. Fluttershy told us that we really shouldn’t do something like that until we’re older.” The orange filly couldn’t keep looking at the cyan pegasus, and so she took to looking at the ground. Dash had to turn a laugh that escaped into a hasty cough, but Scootaloo didn’t seem to notice. “Are you sure that I’ll get my cutie mark for this? If Applebloom finds out...” The filly’s eyes widen a bit, and then she looks back at Rainbow. “Or if Applejack or Big Mac find out!”
“Relax, squirt. I’ll be taking care of the two of them. They’ll be way too busy to find out what you’re doing. And Granny Smith’s too drugged up on pain pills to remember anything you do. Just get in, find the liquid treasure, and then come back to me. And remember, you have to save it in your mouth for it to count.” Scootaloo visibly recoils at this news, and then she nearly wretches.
“Fluttershy explained more to us than you think, Rainbow. Although I don’t know how much I wanted to know...” The cyan pegasus looks distracted for a moment, and then she violently shakes her head before smiling at the orange filly once again.
“Just get it done, and find me. I’ll be waiting, squirt. Now get going!”
Scootaloo turned at the gate to the Apple family farm, and she slowed her pace to a crawl, before stopping just shy of the property line. Do I really want my cutie mark that bad? And without the other crusaders, too? I know it’s wrong, but Rainbow Dash promised this would work... The filly took a small step back, before she steadied herself. I’m no chicken. I’ll do it, and show them all. The small step back was quickly undone as the orange pegasus filly began trekking down the road that led to the farm. And to Granny Smith.
As the farm came into view, the pegasus couldn’t stop her pace from slowing the small amount that it did slow. Given what time of day it was, Granny Smith could be in any one of three places. Either in the living room of the house, napping; the kitchen, cooking; or her bedroom, napping. The filly couldn’t really say which of the three she’d prefer, since she didn’t really want to do this in any of those places. The more she thought about what she was going to do, the more her pace slowed, until she stopped at the door to the farmhouse, her legs refusing to move at all, neither into the house, nor away from it.
Mustering all of her courage, the filly raised a hoof to the door, not knocking just yet. This was her last chance. If she knocked she knew, somehow, that she’d see it through to the end, if only to prove to herself that she wasn’t a chicken. The hovering hoof slowly edged forwards, making silent contact with the door. This repeated several times, the silence of the impact jarring Scootaloo’s thoughts. As the filly looked at her hoof resting on the door, she sighed. Now or never...
Several solid knocks on the door echoed through the filly’s mind, seemingly searing themselves into her mind for all of eternity. Somehow, even after death those knocks would haunt her. The knocks were still echoing through her mind as she heard the faint sound of a call come from within the house. Scootaloo couldn’t make it out, so she knocked several more times, just as loud as before, but not nearly as ominous. The response was louder this time, but still incomprehensible.
Rationalizing it as an entry cry, the filly opened the door, shuddering as the poorly oiled hinges screeched their protest to the heavens above. Immediately Scootaloo pictured Granny Smith’s joints making just such a noise as they twitched. A pained grunt escaped the filly as she desperately tried to erase the mental images from her mind. It was bad enough that she was about to live through that, there was no need to think about it beforehand. The filly decided to try the kitchen first, hoping that she wouldn’t be there, but fearing it at the same time.
Luckily, or not, the Apple family matriarch was not present, sparing the filly the... trouble... of doing the deed with the elderly mare awake. The next stop on the list was the living room. Maybe the filly would get lucky, and the mare that she was searching for wouldn’t be there, or in her room. But would that count as her doing it, or would Rainbow claim that she was just chickening out. As the filly entered the living room she realized, grimly, that she couldn’t honestly claim that the matriarch wasn’t present. She was, in fact, napping in her rocking chair. The gentle back and forth motion of the chair lulled Scootaloo into a momentary trance, letting her forget what she was doing there, if only for a moment.
As the motion decreased in speed, the filly shook off her trance, allowing her to focus on what she was there for once again. The first step towards the mare was the hardest, each subsequent step following the prior one in a mechanical fashion. She wasn’t even thinking about the progress she was making, her eyes refusing to look away from a point distractingly close to the elderly mare’s hind legs. She couldn’t see her goal due to the position of Granny Smith’s legs, but she knew enough to know where it was.
The filly finally stopped her inexorable advance as she reached the chair where the mare was gently snoring. Unsure of just how to proceed, the filly began slowly circling the chair, blissfully ignorant of what would be required of her to accomplish what she had set out to do. As her third trip around the mare came to a close, a ghost of an idea began swimming around the mind of the impressionable youth. Perhaps if she could slide the mare down on the chair just a bit, she’d be able to reach the... The Tomb.
She’d heard, despite her ignorance on the topic, quite a few allusions to the space between Granny Smith’s legs. Before she knew what they were referring to, Scootaloo had assumed that they had been talking about some big Apple family secret. Now, though, Scootaloo was far wiser than she used to be, and the knowledge genuinely disturbed the filly.
With gentle hooves, the filly began adjusting the position of the elderly mare, sliding her down in the chair until she had exposed the once delicate folds of the ancient mare. Scootaloo stared at it for several long minutes before she could rationalize just how... how... anti-moist it was. It almost seemed like it was absorbing the moisture in the air, and making itself, and everything around it, drier. A hoof slowly raised from the floor towards the nexus of dry, but it stopped halfway up. No amount of mental coercion could raise the hoof any further, and so the filly allowed her hoof to drop back to the carpet, an almost inaudible thump signaling its contact with the floor.
A second, and third, attempt followed, each one meeting with similar failure. A groan of frustration escaped the filly, and soon she took to pacing around the mare. Two laps later, and an idea began taking shape within the confines of the filly’s mind. It was, arguably, stupid, but it was better than nothing. Dashing from the room, the filly returned moments later with a small glass of water balanced atop her head. Perhaps a bit of water would help to make things a bit smoother. If not acting as a lubricant, maybe it could make things a bit less... desert like.
The filly poured a bit of water on her hoof, and then she raised it towards The Tomb once again, tempting fate. Her eyes widened in amazement as the water literally vanished from her hoof. Feeling brave, the filly brought the glass above the barren opening, tilting the glass slightly, and watching in amazement as the stream began to vanish as it passed by the barren entrance. The stream slowly widened, until none of the water appeared to be vanishing as it fell. Quickly stopping the stream, the filly once again attempted to bring her hoof up, and a tiny smile of success flashed across her face as she was able to bring her hoof into contact with the moistureless skin.
A shudder ran along the length of the filly’s leg as she gently prodded the barren love box. After the fleeting contact, the filly withdrew her hoof, disgust being the first reason, but panic at prompting a reaction being a close second. When there was no sign of activity on the part of the ancient mare, the filly heaved a sigh of relief. She was not even close to done, but at least she was safe for the moment. A small sigh escaped the filly, and she brought her hoof up to the anti-moist crescent once again. Several strokes of her hoof elicited no reaction, and so Scootaloo’s motions soon grew a bit more vigorous, her attempts at prompting any sort of reaction meeting failure.
A half remembered sentence from Fluttershy’s lecture flitted through the filly’s mind, and she almost gagged as she allowed herself to entertain the notion for even a moment. The filly’s tongue soon felt dry within her mouth, and she had to struggle to move the suddenly noticeable appendage within her mouth. A glance at the glass of water reminded Scootaloo of what she needed to do, and with a deep sense of loathing, the filly brought the glass to her mouth, before she took a deep swallow. The second helping she kept in her mouth for a moment, before she spit it back into the glass.
Without giving herself time to think about it, the filly brought her head right up to the barren plot, before sticking out her tongue, and running it along The Tomb. As she ended her tongue’s caress, the filly shivered. She felt like she’d just licked sand. Sand that had been left to dry in the summer sun. With several mirrors around it, focusing more of the sun’s light. And then it had been set on fire. Twice.
Still, she had to continue, if only for her cutie mark. By this point, Scootaloo didn’t care what the others thought, her only concern was getting her cutie mark. Several laps of Scootaloo’s tongue later, and the feminine passage looked no wetter, but, at least, it was no drier. A small sip of water later, and Scootaloo’s tongue was back at work, weaving an intricate pattern, and leaving no part unlicked.
The minutes seemed to drag on, and when the first traces of moisture began seeping out of the ancient mare’s box, Scootaloo couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her. Am I actually making progress? Am I going to be able to pull this off? With a sign of progress before her, Scootaloo quickly redoubled her efforts, taking longer, and more frequent laps at the sudden oasis springing up between the matriarch’s legs. Her continued ministrations were rewarded by a half mumbled name escaping the lips of the mare. Sadly, Scootaloo couldn’t hear it, as she was too busy lapping away at the newfound source of hydration. Several small tremors ran the length of the mare’s body, and Scootaloo began remembering more of what Fluttershy had told the crusaders in their impromptu lecture.
With a small grunt of exertion, Scootaloo reached her fastest pace, her tongue heating up from the friction, and the rising temperature of the mare’s nethers. Without pausing for anything, the filly continued her barrage of licks. A tiny idea blossomed inside of her slowly changing mind, and she brought her attention to the small nub of flesh that had remained mostly ignored for most of the process. Giving it a small nibble, Scootaloo was rewarded with a second, stronger, tremor running through the mare. The fluid production by the mare was beginning to reach new levels, and Scootaloo began to suspect that she would soon reach her goal. Much to her surprise, it came sooner than expected.
As Granny Smith finally reached climax, Scootaloo braced herself for the coming onslaught. She didn’t anticipate much to come from the ancient mare, but the quantity surprised the small filly. More than that, though, was the taste. It took several moments for the filly to admit it, but it was easily the best tasting thing she’d ever had. Not only was it delicious, it reminded her of all of the best things in life. Memories she couldn’t possibly have experienced flashed through her mind, and soon she was looking at the dripping love box with eyes full of lust. The filly had no adequate words to describe her need, but, had she known the word, ‘addiction’ would’ve sufficed.
Spurred on by a need she couldn’t understand, Scootaloo pushed the ancient mare towards a second climax, and then a third. After the fourth, the filly managed to keep herself from swallowing, and so she giddily began running out of the house, not even bothering to take note of the puddle of femcum ont the floor, or what was splattered all over her face.
The trip down the road that led off the farm went by in a haze as the filly made sure to breathe through her nose, lest she swallow the precious cargo she was carrying. A tiny tingle on her flank passed by unobserved, and a smile of utter bliss planted itself on the filly’s features. As she began walking into the town, she noted an odd number of ponies staring at her. She couldn’t fathom why, so she just kept walking, both eyes searching for the rainbow maned pegasus. When she spotted the cyan pegasus flying down the road, she had to remember not to shout out the name of that pegasus, lest she do something unspeakable with the liquid. Like waste it on the ground...
The lazily flying pegasus couldn’t keep the grin from her face as she sped towards the orange filly. Rainbow Dash landed easily before the filly, the grin on her face quickly growing into a wide smile as she saw the state of the filly’s face and shoulders.
“Looks like you really went at it squirt. Did you manage to save some as proof, or is all of Granny’s juice splattered on your face?” The filly quickly shook her head, enjoying the slight sloshing in her mouth. “Well, spit it out. You don’t need to save it anymore.” Again, the filly shook her head. “You don’t want to?” An eager nod followed this query, and Dash raised an eyebrow. “Um... Why?” The filly quickly began gesturing, refusing to speak. This carried on for almost a full minute before Dash interrupted. “How about you spit it into a glass. That way it’s easily put back into your mouth... If that’s what you really want...” Again, she is greeted with an eager nod, and so she quickly flies to her home and back, the trip taking ten seconds flat.
“Here, I got you a glass.” The filly reverently dribbles the fluid into the glass, looking at it with something bordering on fanaticism. “Is everything alright, squirt? You don’t look right.”
“I’m better than alright, Rainbow Dash. In fact,” she looks away from the glass for just a moment, her eyes sparkling, “I feel better than ever.” Dash took a half step back as the filly returned her attention to the glass. Dash hesitantly reached a hoof for the glass, but a swat of the filly’s hoof dissuaded Dash, and so she began circling the filly, trying to figure this out. As she spotted the new mark on the filly’s flank, Dash realized what she’d done.
Sitting there, proudly displaying Scootaloo’s talent to anyone with a dirty mind, was her cutie mark. It was innocuous enough, but anyone who’d heard some dirty jokes would get the reference. It was, unmistakably, a slimy clam.
A/N: Dunski. Now I need to go clean my brain...
(So, I can't help but think that trip across the universe might have been better. Ah, well. Too late now. Cannot unsee, and all that jazz. Cheerio!)