Trixie's Tumultuous Tumble Towards Titty Totality

Tragedy. Glancing over her shoulder again, Trixie can’t help but feel guilt welling up in her gut as she watches the brilliant, blonde headed Lavender Lace squares off against the diminutive and devilish Nurse Redheart. While they had no proof, there is an anxious sense of uncertainty in the air. What would happen? Would Lace get in trouble? Why, it was all her fault, right?

Shaking her head, Trixie finally tears her eyes away from her blonde friend, stepping out of the Nurse’s office and coming face to chest with the the teacher towering over her. Ms. Cheery gives a happy smile and waves.

“Okay Trixie, let’s get the two of you settled in at Winny’s class.”

“What about Lavender,” Trixie says with an uncertain frown. “Trixie isn’t about to leave her behind to be-”

“Calm down,” the bimbo laughs, waving her hand in a tired, almost disinterested manner. “Your friend is going to be fine; Red’s just going to ask a couple questions. Now come on.”

The magician-to-be purses her lips and glances past her curvaceous captor to the rather pale Fuchsia Blush. Leaning heavily for support on Ms. Cheery’s arm, the leggy runner struggles for air as she offers a wry, apologetic smile. With a click of her tongue, the white haired girl crosses her arms and turns to face down the hall.

“Very well; take Trixie to her punishment.”

Cheery grins and leads the girls through the school that they had been so eager to sneak through just a short while ago. After tearing her eyes away from the teacher’s ridiculously long hamstring length hair, Trixie glances over at her friend again.

Some color has at last returned to the girl’s face and her breathing is slow and steady as she stands under her own power again. Aside from the obvious exhaustion, Fuchsia doesn’t seem any worse for wear; her well proportioned feet leading up to generously long legs and a pair of muscular, meaty thighs that wouldn’t have been out of place on a volleyball player, but served to add to the otherwise slender girl’s charm.

As though sensing her friend’s gaze, Fuchsia glances over at Trixie and offers a wry smile. She then takes an unusually long stride, her scandalously short thigh length skirt to ride up and reveal just a hint of her tight backside. Color rushes to Trixie’s face as she jerks her eyes away from the marvelous combination of leg and tail, but looking into her friend’s eyes again, she can’t shake the feeling that it might have been done on purpose.

Before she can question the flirty girl, Cheery turns and knocks on the door to Ms. Harshwhinny’s class, grinning the whole time. “Winny! We’re here! Open up!”

There’s an obvious grunt of irritation from the other side of the wall and the familiar click-clack of heels approaching before the door swings open. The thickly proportioned MILF on the other side glares at the bubbly bimbo, her icy eyes seeming to drop the temperature of the air around them just by staring. Trixie gapes at the blonde’s ridiculous rack, a momentary skip in her memory suggesting that the massive mammaries were somehow out of place. Fear grips the girl’s gut as she considers again the possibility that things are not exactly as they seem to be.

“Please don’t call me that,” Ms. Harshwhinny sighs, the sound snapping Trixie back to reality. The rather tired looking blonde places her thumb and forefinger against her chin, resting her arm on and against the gigantic globes dominating her chest in the process. “So, these are the two students that that little harlot couldn’t handle on her own? I’m somewhat disappointed.”

Ushering the two students inside, she points over towards the desks at the front of the room. The girls quietly move where they’re told while Ms. Cheery carries on as though she hadn’t heard any of the snide comments about her friend.

“Aw, c’mon Winny, don’t be such a sour puss. Most boys don’t like stuff that makes their face pucker up.” Ms. Harshwhinny rolls her eyes and sighs, earning a delighted giggle from her air-headed co-worker. “Oh, that’s right! I have to tell you about what happened last week.”

Despite her irritation, the blonde leans in a little closer to listen to Cheery’s voice as it drops to just above a whisper. The bubbly bimbo was excellent at preying on shy, uncertain boys; boys who frequently fail to cross her correctional path, so her stories were often radically different than Harshwhinny’s own experiences. And the ditzy teacher’s lurid details about the size of their dicks and how much they filled her belly always manages to get a rise out of the blonde.

And so, while the teacher talk in hushed tones, Trixie leans over and tries to catch up with Fuchsia.

“So what happened?” she whispers. Fuchsia’s head rolls about lazily, her ear very nearly pressed up against her shoulder as she stares at Trixie; as if it were too much trouble to keep her neck straight. After a moment of silence, she shrugs.

“Y’know how I said I could outrun Nurse Redheart because she was in heels?” Trixie nods her head, and Fuchsia gives a weak smile. “Well, I guess I underestimated how much practice a bimbo has in heels.”

“She was that fast?”

“Mm, but she had a little help from Ms. C.”

Noting her friend’s confused expression, Fuchsia holds up one of her hands with her index and middle finger pointed downward. She begins shifting them back and forth in a mock running motion before lifting her other hand and having the running fingers crash into her palm, even throwing in a small explosive sound effect for good measure.

“Well that does it; I’m convinced that both of them are in on this plot. Neither of them are normal,” Trixie grumbles, glancing over at the two teachers. Perhaps she should bump that number to three, considering their current situation. The white haired girl shifts her thighs together as she begins to settle down, catching the faint whiff of something sweet and flowery lingering in the air.

“Yeah, they’re special,” Fuchsia chips in, a dreamy smile on her lips. Leaving her momentary reverie, Trixie turns to question her friend further when Cheerilee’s voice returns to a more normal volume.

“Well, that’s enough about bareback for now. Red’ll probably bring the other girl by shortly. But bye for now girls! Remember what I told you, Fuchsia!”

“You got it, Miss C,” the redhead laughs, rolling her head back around towards the door and waving. With a happy hop, Cheery hurries back down the hall; her big bottom bouncing along in time to a beat echoing between her ears. After the teacher is out of sight, Ms. Harshwhinny closes the door and turns back to her charges, wearing a dark smile.

“Now then,” she purrs, strutting over towards the front of the room. Trixie tenses as Ms. Harshwinny sits down on her desk and crosses her legs at her ankles, the blonde’s sharp eyes glancing over the somewhat squirmy student before clicking her tongue in disapproval. “I must say that I’m rather disappointed that you have to be here. But the important thing is that you are here and thus able to learn from your mistakes.”
Tumultuous
Trixie nods while Fuchsia continues staring off into space. Ms. Harshwhinny’s displeased expression doesn’t change, even with the chilly reception. “For those of you who haven’t been here before, or have simply forgotten, I run a very tight ship. If you act out of sorts, you will be punished appropriately. If you want to avoid punishment, then you must behave as young women ought, not as little hellions or easy girls who spread their legs for anyone. I teach discipline, and you will learn it.”

As if to punctuate the point, the blonde teacher reaches forward and smacks her ruler against Trixie’s desk. The student jumps, suppressing a small yelp of surprise as she keeps her eyes locked on the older woman. As such, she misses the spark of pink that seeps into the surface of her desk. By the time Trixie finds her nerve again, the gentle glow of magic has already vanished from sight and begun to do its work.

It isn’t much, just a single touch of magic. But it’s enough to make the girl, who had resolved herself to not moving for the entire length of her stay in detention, begin to squirm in discomfort. Not a bad sensation, certainly not from the pleasant buzzing between her legs, but certainly unwelcome considering the situation. As she shifts her weight from one side to the other, Fuchsia leans over and whispers to her.

“You look a little tense there, Trixie.”

“A little,” she admits, her eyes darting up towards Ms. Harshwhinny. The stern teacher has already moved from her post, now sitting behind her desk and thumbing through her remaining paperwork. Satisfied that her attention was elsewhere for the moment, Trixie continues. “Just an itch.”

“Mhmm, thought so,” Fuchsia nods and winks, putting a finger to her lips; her slightly puffy lips, caked with pink lipstick and her eyes laden with a healthy dose of mascara and glittery purple eye shadow. So very like her, to be able to keep secrets; after all, she manages to keep her oversized breasts under wraps all through the track season.

A twinge of uncertainty rumbles through Trixie’s mind as she mulls over that last statement. Fuchsia is, and always has been, a tremendous athlete. Having breasts the size of her head would be difficult to deal with at best, and at worst she wouldn’t be able to compete at all. And yet, in her mind’s eye, the white haired girl can clearly remember supporting her curvaceous friend in competition for many years now. In fact, she’s quite popular at the meets, with admirers from all across the city wherever she goes.

With that in mind, aside from her ridiculous proportions, Fuchsia certainly fits the bill of someone devoted to keeping their body in competitive shape. The too small crop top that seems to creep ever higher, threatening to expose her burgeoning breasts to the world, does wonders to showcase her washboard stomach and maintain her firm yet feminine appearance. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, leaving enough to spill over her shoulders while spunky strands of hair from her bangs hang in front of her eyes.

Trixie watches as her friend takes a deep breath, the shirt riding up as if in response to the strain her breasts were putting on it. They jiggle enticingly while a new sliver of Fuchsia’s firm, muscular core is revealed to the world when her top settles into its new position. The redhead stretches, giving a small grunt of approval and earning a glare from Ms. Harshwhinny.

Biting her lip, Trixie struggles to fight off the swimming sensation in between her ears, and the growing ache in between her legs. She isn’t ashamed, necessarily; her friend is incredibly attractive and has a tendency to unwittingly tease those around her. Still, now is neither the time nor the place.

A quick rap on the door brings Trixie’s attention back to earth. With a shaky sigh, she watches as the blonde teacher sways over to the door and opens it, revealing the diminutive, yet bossy Nurse Redheart and the third member of their merry band, Lavender Lace. The two staff members lock eyes, and Trixie can almost swear she sees a shower of pink sparks explode between the two of them.

“Here’s the third,” the nurse says, giving the girl a gentle push into the room. Lavender stumbles forward on her clunky purple heels, the blonde leaning against one of the desks to stop herself from falling to the floor. Her medicine ball sized breasts bounce and jiggle violently at the sudden stop, heaving as the blonde catches her breath and sweeps her thick, tailbone length hair back over her shoulders. With an uncertain stride, Lavender wobbles over to the desk on the other side of Trixie and sits down hard; another tremor rumbling through her massive chest.

“It certainly took you long enough,” Ms. Harshwhinny smirks as she sees the girl make it to her seat. Cocking her right hand on her hip, she wiggles the ruler tauntingly at her side. “You weren’t coddling her like some of your patients, were you?”

Nurse Redheart sneers, and the two women fall back into their usual back and forth banter: the older woman chiding her junior for her misplaced priorities with name calling and posturing, while the younger fires back with rather lurid taunts regarding the blonde’s comparative market value. But that certainly isn’t enough to distract Trixie from the much more important matter of seeing to her friend.

“Lace, are you okay?”

“Yea, fer sure,” the blonde sighs in response, all but melting into her seat as she smiles vacantly up at the ceiling. Wetting her plump, earthy colored lips, the glossy gal sighs and glances over at Trixie. “Well, we kinda screwed the pooch on this one, huh?”

“Don’t give me that,” the ringleader of the trio makes a small hiss through her teeth. “We just need to come up with something a little more elaborate next time. If anything, I’m more convinced than ever that we have the potential for a bimbo epid-”

“As if.” Lavender Lace fixes Trixie with a cool stare before drawling, “We’re so in the dark on this that might as well be a movie theater grope-fest.”

While Fuchsia gives a girlish giggle, Trixie winces at her friend’s frank assessment. Despite being an intelligent girl, Lace hadn’t bothered to look the part for years, her quirky and sometimes saucy euphemisms the only real clue that her mind was working far faster than one would guess. No, she, like Fuchsia, had fallen prey to getting themselves gussied up around the time that they were-

“Ah,” the white-haired girl grunts, biting down on her lip and holding a hand to her head. The only thing worse than the throbbing in her head, is the increasingly persistent throbbing between her legs. Clenching her thighs together, Trixie grumbles to herself. “It, it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense anymore.”

“T? You okay?” Fuchsia frowns, seeming legitimately concerned for the first time since they’d been reunited. She goes so far as to get up out of her seat and lean over the white-haired girl’s desk, the slender, muscular rises in her arms casting slight shadows across her skin. Pursing her purple lips, she reaches out and presses a hand to Trixie’s forehead. Glancing up, the generally snarky girl sees that Lace seems upset as well, though she’s in no position to stand.

“I-I’m fine,” she finally stutters, gulping and shaking her head, knocking Fuchsia’s hand loose in the process. “It’s just that, I was so sure that I was close to something. All the bimbos in this school, how unnatural everything seems…”

As her voice trails off, Trixie feels Fuchsia’s slender fingers slide under her chin. Letting the redhead lift her head, the white-haired girl gulps as she meets her friend’s eyes.

“You’re thinking too much,” the sporty girl purrs, a sticky-sweet sound that enters into Trixie’s ears before sliding down into her throat and mouth, threatening to rot her teeth clean through. “Just relax and let us take care of everything.”

As Trixie opens her mouth to respond, Fuchsia leans down and plants a kiss on her leader’s lips. The stunned girl goes rigid as her already aching nethers seem to inflame themselves further, her friend closing her eyes and gives a quiet groan of approval. Trixie gives a plaintive whimper as she feels the alien sensation of another’s tongue in her mouth, shuddering as her eyes seem to close of their own volition.

In spite of closing herself off from the world, every inch of Trixie’s body feels electric. The fine hairs on the back of her neck brush against one another with a mixture of terror and erotic energy. She struggles for air as she attempts to process anything beyond the increasingly overwhelming flowery scent of the room, and the raspberry tang of Fuchsia’s lip gloss.

This was wrong. On any number of levels Trixie knows that this is not how things are supposed to be; Fuchsia is one of her best friends, and while attractive, they could hardly be considered that way with each other. The would-be magician’s consciousness spins as she struggles to keep her head above water, feeling the tingles lapping at her, threatening to overwhelm her.

But why? Anything that feels so delightful can hardly be considered wrong. Trixie gulps as she feels another set of hands at her knees, forcing her legs further apart. That must be Lavender, finally joining in. As though sensing the blonde’s intentions, Trixie can feel her hips shift towards where she imagines Lace to be. Just a moment, a brief moment, and everything would make sense. Stop worrying about the bimbos and let the bimbos do their work.

Bimbos…

Bimbos?

“BHIMBHOS!” Trixie yelps into Fuchsia’s lips as her eyes pop open. The redhead gawks as well, the two staring at one another for a moment before Fuchsia is shoved back by the seated student. She stumbles back onto the teacher’s desk, nearly falling over it before she manages to catch herself.

Panting for air, the Wild and Terrified Trixie looks down at the kneeling Lavender between her legs and quickly pushes her away as well. The blonde yelps and crashes to the floor. Finally free, Trixie scampers to her feet and braces herself against the far wall as her eyes dart around, assessing the situation.

It should have been obvious from the start: her ‘former’ friends have clearly been infected by the contagion that they had found in Nurse Redheart’s office, most likely when they were alone with her. Now they were little more than tits on sticks, with their vapid stares, giggly personalities, and needy pussies just waiting to be touched, teased, filled and fu-

“Ah!” Trixie yelps as she slaps herself across the face. Her breath comes in strangled gasps as she struggles to suppress the aching need in her own body for all of those things. She isn’t like them, not yet at least, as she still has a reasonable amount of control over her mental state. A quick pat down of her body reminds her that she’s still rather flat and comparatively curveless, a thought that brings a pang of frustration to the fore for a moment, and she turns her eyes towards the door.

“Of course, you would both still be there in Trixie’s way,” she grumbles, eyeing down the hyper busty teacher and the diminutive devil nurse as they stare at her. Nurse Redheart raises an eyebrow, seeming rather amused by the whole ordeal, while Ms. Harshwhinny is wearing a grin that sends a shiver of fear down Trixie’s spine.

“What a pleasant surprise,” the blonde murmurs to herself, bringing her left hand up to her cheek and dragging a talon-like nail down across the plump flesh. “I wasn’t expecting you girls to be any trouble, but a disruptive student such as yourself must be dealt with, Miss Lulamoon.”

Swinging her hips, Ms. Harshwhinny stalks back into the room, her heels clicking as she stalks towards the white-haired girl. Trixie’s eyes flit about, quickly measuring distance and space for escape routes. Getting out of the room wouldn’t be a problem, if she started moving at a clip she would be able to crash into Nurse Redheart and knock the tiny woman off her feet, if only for a moment. Then it would just be a matter of clearing the school grounds before she got up and chased her down.

The problem is the whopper wielding woman before her first. Ms. Harshwhinny’s top-heavy form takes up a great deal of space, moving across the back of the room would waste too much time, and traveling across the front of the room is dangerous with both Fuchsia and Lavender within arm’s reach. Which leaves only one reasonable opening.

As Ms. Harshwhinny continues her approach, Trixie tenses her body. The blonde smiles at the sight and takes another long step. Waiting until the middle of the stride, Trixie explodes forward; her arms and legs pumping as she rushes the teachers left side. The grinning teacher reaches out with her hand to grab the girl. If only she knew who she was messing with.

Sneering, Trixie shifts her weight, dropping down beneath Ms. Harshwhinny’s outstretched arm. Well aware of her size and how much space she takes up, the white-haired girl slides under the blonde teacher’s massive chest, moving to brush by her comparably slender hips. Praising her attention to escape tricks, the practicing magician turns her head to grin at the obviously awestruck teacher before she rushes by her and…

Smiling. Ms. Harshwhinny is smiling.

“Wh-” Trixie begins before a resounding smack fills the room, echoing off the walls as the girl loses her balance and drops to her knees. She doesn’t even feel the sting until after the sound as faded, but the sudden, sharp pain on her backside sends her into a whimpering fit when she becomes aware of it.

From the doorway, Trixie can see Nurse Redheart tut and shake her head a few times. Noting that she has the downed girl’s attention the nurse fixes her with a small smile, she chuckles and nods to the towering teacher. “Well, I guess I’ll leave this to you Winny, you seem to have things well in hand.”

“Mm, feel free to stay,” the blonde teacher purrs as she brings the thick wooden ruler down on Trixie’s backside again. The white-haired girl yelps in discomfort as another welt is added to her rump, but the older woman pays no mind to her, still focused on her rival. “I’m certain I could teach you a few things about knowing your place.”

“The day I let you dominate me is the day I retire,” Redheart quips back, giving a slight wave. “Just take care of those girls for me.”

“Oh, I will,” Ms Harshwhinny laughs, placing the toe of her shoe against Trixie’s back and pushing her to the floor. She doesn’t even notice that the nurse has already closed the door before continuing. “By the time she leaves here, she’ll be a model girl for Canterlot High School.”

Nurse Redheart chuckles at the taunting on the other side of the door. Another series of quick slaps of wood on flesh has the pink-haired woman clenching her thighs together and walking back down the hall. She fails to notice that it’s much pinker than it had been a few minutes ago, too obsessed with tracking down Cheery and having her way with her. She was stressed, after all.

Back in the classroom, Ms. Harshwhinny wets her lips and glares down at the prone Trixie. Already, the teen’s backside has five angry looking red streaks from the previous swipes of the pink ruler. Trixie whimpers, squirming under the blonde’s shoe as she feels her rump tense and relax, the back of her skirt adhering to the slowly swelling supple skin.

“What a naughty girl,” the teacher growls, sliding her ruler down along the white-haired girl’s thighs. Trixie whimpers, feeling the familiar electric sensation making her hair stand on end again, this time with a sense of shame blending in as well. There’s also something else, something she can’t yet place her finger on. As the teacher continues to tease her, the two student bimbos finally manage to collect themselves and, after a moment, Fuchsia speaks.

“Um, Ms. Harshwhinny?” The redhead flinches a little as the icy eyes of the teacher fall upon her, but she struggles forward, asking, “What, what are we supposed to do?”

Both girls look up at the blonde teacher, squirming and biting their lips as they glance between each other, Trixie, and the dominant Harshwhinny. After a moment, the blonde smirks and waves her ruler at the two of them.

“My issue isn’t with the two of you, so feel free to engage in a paired study session. Just leave me to do my work.”

Fuchsia nods, but as she turns back to Lavender, she gives a small yelp as the blonde student forces her girly thighs apart and buries her face into the redhead’s snatch. Squealing at the attention Lace is giving her, Lavender leans back on the desk and lets her friend go to work.

Across the room, Trixie tears up as she watches her friends go down on one another. The plan had been to find out what was going on in the school, and they certainly have managed to do that. But now, her friends were reduced to such a state. And it’s all her fault.

Another swat to Trixie’s burgeoning backside sends her squealing again, grinding her nonexistent chest into the carpet. The firm press of Ms. Harshwhinny’s shoe into her tailbone further reminds her of the teacher’s presence, leaving her quivering on the ground.

“Where did all that fight go, I wonder,” Ms. Harswhinny sighs, trailing the edge of the ruler up and under Trixie’s skirt. The girl whimpers as she feels the wooden instrument press up against her lower lips, squirming in protest as she tries to get away in spite of the weight pressing down on her.

Lavender had been right; they really did screw the pooch this time. As Trixie resists the urge to bury her face in the carpet, she feels the teacher step off of her. Despite her attempts to get her body to move however, Trixie’s limbs feel leaden, unwilling to respond. So when the ruler comes down and presses against her chin, forcing her eyes upwards, the would-be magician can only stare up at her chesty captor.

“It’s a shame to see it extinguished so quickly,” the blonde chides her, though her wicked smile never falters. “Perhaps you would simply like to jump to the part where you apologize and beg for me to show you how to be a proper CHS bimbo?”

“A-As if!” Trixie yelps, blushing furiously at the unfamiliar girlish upswing her voice had taken on. Gulping, she again tries to get her body to respond, but between the still stinging swats on her backside and an uncomfortable tightness that had responded at teacher’s offer, it’s all her already strained body can do to not collapse entirely. Still, she sneers and puts on a brave face. “Nurse Redheart was right. Who, who would want to be dominated by you?”

A still quiet fills the room, punctuated only by the quick, breathless gasps of Fuchsia Blush and the quiet smacking of a still very eager Lavender Lace. Trixie trembles as she watches the icy façade drop away from Ms. Harshwhinny’s face; her eyes burning as she reaches down and cups the girl’s chin in her hand.

Trixie very nearly gags on the overpowering scent of orchids coming off the older woman’s hand, as though she’d stuck her fist in a perfume bottle. As the heady scent overwhelms her senses, Trixie again feels the stiff presence of the ruler grinding against her nether lips.

“Do you think I’m some forgiving old woman, Miss Lulamoon?” Ms. Harshwhinny hisses through her teeth, shifting her wrist and forcing the ruler up against the whimpering girl’s body. Trixie gasps, her breath shaking as she can feel the electric sensation of magic entering her body, engorging her cunny so that it stands out lewdly against her panties.

“T-Trixie doesn’t think anything like that,” the aspiring magician gulps. “She just thinks th-AH!”

Another firm press between her legs sends Trixie’s train of thought rattling off the tracks. The alternating pressure of firmness and absence fires off sparks in her brain, distracting her from the matter at hand, that being her escape. After gathering her wits, the girl struggles to firm words, only to be cut off by another round of pressure.

Leaning down to her ear, Ms. Harshwhinny’s voice rings out in a harsh whisper, “Don’t think that you can beat me here, Miss Lulamoon, it will only make the wait that much longer.”

A weak moan escapes Trixie’s lips, and as she opens her mouth Ms. Harshwhinny forces her thumb into the girl’s mouth. Shivering, the white-haired girl feels the buzzing sensation rumbling through her head, blending with the dizzying scent of orchids and giving her the strangest case of vertigo. Grounded only by the touch of the teacher, and the pressure between her legs, the weakened girl struggles to maintain her confident presence.

Gathering her will again, she slurs out from around the teacher’s thumb, “Th-the Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t…”

At once, her mind goes blank. Either by chance or by sheer perseverance, Ms. Harshwhinny has managed to find the weakest part of her already exhausted body. As the blonde teacher continues to apply pressure, Trixie trembles, giving a plaintive cry. After an eternity, the pressure finally relaxes and she takes a shaky breath.

“Trixie d-doesn’t want to b-”

Again, pleasure washes over her like a wave, carrying her out into the deepest depths of the sea. The aspiring magician groans as she feels the fabric of her panties begin to shift snuggly against the once diminutive delight. Even when Ms. Harshwhinny pulls the ruler away, the tightness remains, her swollen button unable to retreat to her robust lower lips.

“Trixie,” the girl murmurs. A shiver rolls down her spine as she tries again to address herself properly in first person. “Trixie, Trixie, Trixie.”

The amateur magician’s brain is so thoroughly fogged over by this point that she can only think of herself in the third person. With a helpless groan, she tries to focus on regaining her language center, only to feel her lips begin an intimate dance with the thumb in front of her. As she sucks away, she meets the teacher’s eyes, and the shame flares up again. To be seen like this, is perhaps the most embarrassing thing Trixie can imagine.

But she also recognizes what else has been growing inside of her. A deep seeded desire… no, something far more than that. A need would be the only reasonable way to describe what she’s feeling now. And not just a need to be filled full of spunk like some sex dispenser on legs, but with a firm, commanding hand; just like the one in front of her. She has to have it.

“P-Please,” Trixie finally croaks. “Trixie… Trixie needs.”

A flash of kindness appears in the eyes of the blonde teacher towering over her. Sliding her spit-slicked thumb over the girl’s lips, Ms. Harshwhinny smiles and goads her forward, “What is it Trixie, what is it you need?”

“Trixie needs, more,” the once proud girl whimpers, grinding her cheek into the teachers palm. “Trixie needs it now. Please, Ms. Harshwhinny. Please!”

Her already flush face brightens all the more with her capitulation, the dizziness that had helped to keep her on the ground worsens with the accompanying rise in temperature. As such, Trixie is tremendously grateful for the sturdy body of Ms. Harshwhinny as she picks her up and gently lays her out across one of the desks.

A delighted whimper escapes the Hypersensitive and Unsteady Trixie as the cool wooden surface helps to sap some of the excess heat from her body. Unfortunately, it does nothing for the raging inferno between her legs. With a plaintive, half-lidded stare, Trixie pops her slightly swollen lips and meets Ms. Harshwhinny’s eyes again.

“Please.”

The teacher smirks, leaning down and pressing her lips to Trixie’s. As before when kissed by Fuchsia, Trixie doesn’t resist at first, but this time throws herself into the process; the girl’s eagerness getting the better of her as she luxuriates in love from the dominating diva. After several seconds, the two separate with a quiet, breathless sound, the Needy and Whimpering Trixie weakly chasing after the retreating teacher.

“This is much better,” Ms. Harshwhinny murmurs, bringing her hand up to her face again. The teacher lets her tongue toy with the tip of her finger, and the long nail atop it as she eyes her squirmy student. “You’re well on your way to becoming a proper CHS student: patient, eager, and disciplined.” The teacher shudders, closing her eyes as the last word rolls of her tongue. With a gentle groan, she slowly comes back to reality and smiles. “So, in honor of that, let’s get you your reward.”

Turning on the ball of her foot, Ms. Harshwhinny moves back to her desk. The same desk that presently has two girls writhing on top of it, joined together at the face and hip. The blonde teacher huffs in frustration as she sees that Fuchsia has knocked clean most of the surface with her thrashing, scouring the floor for some sign of one of the dildos she keeps on hand for herself and good little girls.

“L-Lace,” the redhead groans as she quivers again. “Y-you hafta stop. I can’t, I can’t feel my legs anymmmore!”

“Can’t help it,” her friend mutters, rubbing her cheek against the runner’s thick thighs. Her fingers play in between her own legs, plunging furiously ahead while she takes the time to speak and taunt the redhead. “You’re gushing like a fountain and I gotta, gotta, gotta drink.” As she dives back in, Fuchsia’s face goes hot and she brings her hands up to cover her cheeks and eyes.

“Ah, d-don’t say stuff like that!”

As the two descend back into panting moans and noisy slurps, Ms. Harshwhinny bites her lip and gives her pleasure button a little nudge through her skirt. These two girls are so incredibly close, and Trixie would likely join them. But the teacher knew that it would be a shame to make the white-haired girl into another sex-obsessed slut. She would need to be careful.

“And where are my blasted dildos?” she hisses through her teeth when another cry goes up from behind her. Turning, Ms. Harshwhinny sees that Trixie, unable to wait any longer, has found a suitable replacement for her needs; the thick ruler that she had left on the desk.

“Yes, yes!” the amateur magician whimpers, feeling the still magically charged stiff shape shift inside of her. The tip of one end tapers and rounds, becoming lewdly phallic as the hashes disappear and reappear with each thrust. But even still, the self-pleasure isn’t enough to drive her over the edge. “Trixie needs more!”

Before she can bury the ruler into her hungry cunny however, a familiar hand closes around her own. Through bleary eyes, Trixie watches as Ms. Harshwhinny steps into her sight, the girl whimpering in delight and protest as the teacher pulls the dildo-ruler out of her, until the head catches on her lips.

“More, you say?” the blonde smiles, showing even more teeth as Trixie’s head bobs wildly. “You know you’ll never be the same after this, right?” Another needy shake of the head has Ms. Harshwhinny chuckling. “So, say it.”

“Trixie needs it,” the broken girl says without missing a beat. “Trixie needs the ruler, and Trixie ne-needs to be a bimbo!”

“Ah,” Ms. Harshwhinny moans softly, her voice quickly overshadowed by the helpless gasp of Trixie as she begins to pump the first quarter of the ruler in and out of the weakened girl’s pussy. “That’s music to my ears, every bit of it! Say it again.”

“B-bimbo, Trixie is a bimbo,” she gasps, feeling her head and face tingle more with every thrust. Her eyelids, already heavy with need and exhaustion, seem to droop lower with extra weight, allowing the blossoming bimbo to see her lashes thicken and darken with heavy swipes of mascara.

Trixie’s already generously thick locks stretch and grow, pooling around her head like a halo before spilling over the edge of the desk and racing towards the floor. As she writhes on the sturdy surface, Ms. Harshwhinny grins and pushes the next quarter into her.

The tingling intensifies almost immediately. Trixie gasps for air as her lower body begins to change. Her already magic enhanced backside continues to grow, but is now accompanied by her steadily widening hips and firming thighs. Skirt seems strain, popping and snapping as they give way under the steady progress outwards. But it’s still not enough.

“M-more,” Trixie whimpers, the word sounding fat and bloated as she struggles to manage her now swollen lips. “Trixie needs, more!”

“Such a willing girl, why couldn’t you have been so eager earlier,” Ms. Harshwhinny smiles, eager to continue the process. And so, the third-quarter slides into the girl; the teacher pumping the shaft in and out of her student with a zealous excitement.

The presumably clever response Trixie had been constructing falls apart in an instant. Deep, everything is so deep right now. The head of the dildo-ruler is bottoming out, bending only ever so slightly before Ms. Harshwhinny pulls it out and thrusts again. One part of her wants to complain, but the jolts of delight from having her womb threatened are enough to keep her in a haze of pleasure.

So as she quivers and shakes, Trixie begins to notice the next change as her upper body begins to jiggle. Cracking open an eye, the white-haired magician grins as she sees her chest start to rise. Her stomach flips as a starter valley of cleavage begins to show itself against the constraints of a too tight top, billowing up towards the neck and down towards her belly.

“So close, Trixie’s so close,” she whispers, her eyes rolling back into her head. It would be easy to finally let loose all the energy that she’s been storing up; finally achieve the pleasant afterglow of orgasm. She could finish her change and be done, be one of the bimbos like Fuchsia, like Lace, like Twili-

“AGH!” the white-haired girl grunts as she snaps back to reality. Her eyes go wide as she remembers the thought of her rival, that cheeky upstart of a princess from another world. She thought she was all that, but Trixie, Trixie would show her! “More! Give Trixie more!”

The rather surprised Ms. Harshwhinny slows her thrusting despite the moans of protest from her student. She’d been certain the girl was about to go under. Biting her lip, the blonde leans down, her hand still moving gently as she whispers in the needy girl’s ear, “Trixie, what did I tell you about fighting? You shouldn’t do it, it will only make things more diff-”

“No!” the squirmy student whimpers, her eyes falling towards her ample chest. They are the size of small melons, but that isn’t enough for her. Not right now. “No, T-Trixie needs more, Trixie needs to be bigger. Bigger than Twilight Sparkle. So much bigger!”

Yes. That was it exactly. Even though the idea of seeing herself with breasts bigger than her head made her flush with shame, the prospect of smacking that pretentious girl down a few pegs is too good to pass up on. With a wide eyed stare, she leans over and brushes her cheek against Ms. Harshwhinny’s. The words catch in her throat at first, but she powers through them all the same.

“Trixie doesn’t want to just be known as Great and Powerful, Trixie wants to be the Gigantic and Pillowy Tri-”

And then words fail her. The blonde beside her grins, having once again increased her pace above and beyond where it had been before. Trixie gasps and moans as she thrashes on the tabletop, each push sending a quiver through her entire body. The constant, dull, thudding pain mixes with the insatiable need, sending her head spiraling back into an incomprehensible state.

“Greedy girl,” Ms. Harshwhinny laughs, unrelenting in her assault. “Bigger than Twilight Sparkle? That’s such a pitiful goal, why don’t you aim higher? Bigger than me? Bigger than the Principal?”

“Tits!” Trixie whimpers, her attempt to respond in the affirmative failing. Still, watching her breasts continue to swell encourages her onward. She continues to babble the same monosyllabic encouragement to her growing chest, whimpering as the reach the size of her head and tax her shirt to the limit.

This is good enough, Trixie thinks; at this size they’re large enough to shame Sparkle and herself as well. All the eyes of the students will be on her every move. A shiver goes down her spine, and Trixie resigns herself to her inevitable orgasm.

Which doesn’t come.

After several seconds, the white-haired girl begins to panic, her body tensing as she jerks her eyes downwards again. Whimpering helplessly, she can only watch as her chest bulges forward again; her shirt finally giving up the fight and ripping in half. Staring at the sports ball sized orbs on her chest, Trixie gulps.

They’re bigger than she would have liked, but still reasonable. Well, reasonable for a bimbo. But she would never orgasm if she didn’t relax. And so, with a few short, weak breaths, Trixie tries to calm her nerves. As she does, the pleasant feeling rises in her again. Just a little more and…

“C-Cummin!” Lavender moans into Fuchsia’s snatch as she furiously slides her hands between her legs. Trixie’s head lolls over to the side and can almost see a thin strand of pink passing between her own body and the blonde’s. And Fuchsia’s as well…

“Me too, oh me too,” the redhead whines, gripping her friend’s head tight between her legs to keep her in place. As the two underlings thrash about on the desk, Trixie feels her own orgasm begin to recede ever so slightly. And she had been so close!

Trixie whimpers, turning her eyes back to her chest. They had surpassed big and were now simply large, too large to be handled by even a pair of hands. Even her nipples stand out in a most obscene manner, placed in the center of her saucer-sized areola. Too much, she thinks to herself, these are far too much for any girl. And yet, that competitive twinge rumbles in her belly again. More, she needed more to spite Sparkle.

Swelling past the size of most of the bimbo-student body, Trixie can only watch as her chest grows to hide her entire lower body from view. Tits, she thinks, she’s been reduced a walking set of tits. The delightful tingle that follows catches her off guard as it roars through the rest of her body. At once, her eyelids shut as her eyes themselves roll back in her head in final, sweet release.

The unconscious student continues to milk the dildo-ruler reflexively for another thirty seconds before her ravenous pussy finally relaxes. Ms. Harshwhinny’s shoulders heave as she looks down at the girl with a sense of delight and awe.

“You were a good girl,” she murmurs, sliding a fingernail along her cheek. “I think you’ll certainly be one of my finest accomplishments.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Ms. Harshwinny sees that the two girls on her desk have finally collapsed, much like their fearless leader. With a quiet tut, she slides Trixie over to her desk and places Fuchsia and Lavender on the ground beside her. After a moments pause, the blonde teacher scours the area around her desk and finally finds it. A perfume bottle with a pink, heart shaped atomizer.

Somehow, despite all the entangling that had been going on at her desk, the bottle was still in one piece. The crack, however, had grown and was threatening to leak out the rest of the precious fluid. With a gentle sigh, the muttering matriarch decides it’s best to use it all at once rather than risking it leaking out or evaporating before it’s used.

Each girl receives a small spritz of perfume, enough to make their noses flinch at the very least. A trio of pleated, trashy microskirts slink their way around the girls’ waists, failing miserably to leave Fuchsia’s now stocking covered legs or Trixie’s backside any sense of decency. Likewise, Lavender’s massive mammaries struggle to be held in place by the pieces of triangular cloth that barely cover her nipples. Trixie fares some better in this department, though the amount of support she receives from the cups of her top send her breasts higher than they naturally ought to be.

The white-haired bimbo moans gently, grinding her thigh-high fishnet stockings together as a small nub makes itself known against her panties. Ms. Harshwhinny shakes her head and gives it a gentle nudge, muttering, “You horny little minx. If I let you go out into the world like this, you’ll jump everything that moves.” Trixie gives a gentle, breathless gasp of a reply, but it’s enough for the blonde teacher. Leaning in closer, she slides the ruler inside the student again, watching with some delight as Trixie whimpers and stiffens.

“That won’t do,” she says, shaking her head. “That won’t do at all. So let’s talk business, Miss Lulamoon. I have a few triggers in mind…”

===

Sunlight. Giving a gentle groan, Trixie cracks open one of her eyes and glares at the window. Even with the shades drawn, small slats of light still peek through the glass, interrupting her otherwise lovely beauty sleep. Well, she wasn’t about to suffer in silence. Shifting her weight, she mutters gently, “Fuchsia, Lace. Get up.”

The red and blonde lumps on either side of her give a gentle groan of protest, but a quick pinch to the backside sends both of them yelping and giggling. As the two rouse themselves, Trixie lets her eyes slide lazily around her room. Everything seems to be in order, lots of pink, lots of baby blue, and a whole assortment of tools for ‘disappearing dildos’ trick. A gentle touch to her neck confirms the collar in place where it had been for some time now, a reminder of the relationship between herself and Ms. Harshwhinny. Why, it felt like just yesterday that

“Wait.” Trixie scowls, wrestling herself out of bed and stalking over to the full length mirror. She gawks at her reflection, unable to ignore the absolutely ridiculous curves or presently pouty expression of a brain-dead bimbo on her face. With a shake of her head, she grabs a handful of hair and screeches, “Wh-what has she done to Trixie!?”

===

“So you’ve got it then?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” Applejack sighs, placing a pen on the Principal’s desk. Celestia picks it up and twists it up and down between her thumb and forefinger, examining the instrument while the farm girl continues. “It took us a day and a half to figure it out, but I reckon that it’s good enough as is.”

The Principal pauses her inspection long enough to glance up at AJ. The blonde student does her best to hide a sneer, a gentle tug from her purple-haired companion reminding her that the two of them are here on business. After looking between the two chesty students, the leggy woman behind the desk sighs and stretches her arms over her head.

“Did you test it?” Celestia asks, fixing them with a small smile.

“Wasn’t aware we were supposed to,” Applejack fires back.

“We can certainly take some time to do so, Principal Celestia,” Rarity says with a gentle tone. “All we need is the pen and-”

There’s a metallic pop as Celestia opens a drawer on her desk and places the pen inside. “It’s all right, I’m sure this is enough,” she says with a nod. “I appreciate all of your hard work; I know it can’t be easy.”

“So we’re good to go?” Celestia nods and Applejack grins. “Well hot dog, come on Rare; the sooner I’m outta here, the better I’ll feel.” But as the blonde takes her arm and tries to pull her away, the statuesque student scowls at the Principal. “Rare?”

“Principal Celestia, if I may,” the pale girl begins, her tone even and measured. “Why is it that you wanted us to make a pen for you in the first place?”

After a moment of silence, the pantsless Principal stands, towering over even Rarity. With a gentle grin, she plainly declares, “Curiosity and insurance. Now if that’s all, the two of you can go.”

 Despite the rather cowed expression on the leggy purple-haired girl’s face, she still doesn’t seem satisfied. Thankfully, Applejack is there to drag her away, leaving the Principal to her own devices. After the students leave, her sister enters the room and offers a small smirk.

“Did you get what you were looking for?”

“I certainly hope so,” Celestia laughs. “Otherwise I’ll look a fool when Twilight Sparkle tries something.”

Frowning, Luna moves over and sits on her sister’s desk. “Do you really think she will? We have certainly made moves to show how serious we are that would quiet most discontents.” Noting that Celestia’s eyes seem glued to her backside, Luna shifts her weight a little, her cheeks jiggling slightly in response. The gentle coloring of her pale sister’s face almost brings a smile to the younger’s lips.

“I’m almost positive,” Celestia finally responds. “We just need to be ready to make a move. Keep an eye on her. How are things with Miss Lulamoon.”

Vice Principal Luna smirks as she leans over the desk and places her lips against her elder sister’s. After a brief, somewhat chaste kiss, she pulls back and murmurs, “Better than could be expected; I have the feeling that Miss Sparkle will have far more to deal with in the future than just our intentions.”

“Good,” the breathless and beet-red Principal sighs. “Then let’s start planning what our next move is.”