The only thing worse than a boiling heat wave was playing casual Overwatch well past the Echo update. But there Rainbow Dash was at ten o'clock on a Wednesday night, experiencing both at the same time.

“Friggin' Sigma mains,” she grumbled—sweatily—squatting cross-legged in her office chair. “If you wanna suck on toes that much, go play one of those catgirl MMOs instead!”

A pair of Atlus headphones framed her determined scowl, meanwhile dribbles of sweat ran rivers down her neck and collar—saturating a tight white tank top that was already turning near-transparent with the high schooler's perspiration. Rainbow's normally minuscule cleavage had been heatedly transformed into a slightly more precocious valley, the dampness of which was being ever so slightly mediated by an oscillating fan pointed at her petite figure. Between this and the struggling a/c, the eighteen-year-old still wasn't getting much relief from the sweltering smother of July, and she had long thrown her pants to the bedroom floor as a flag of surrender, choosing to just rough it out in gray sports briefs while she slogged through session after broken gaming session.

“Oh for Pete's sake...” Rainbow rolled her eyes as another round ended in defeat. As the computer screen turned red, bathing her otherwise dark room in abhorrent crimson, she reached to the side of her desk and unscrewed a tall, sweating bottle of cherry-flavored water. “I don't know how Sunset manages to friggin' do this every night.” She took a sip... a longer sip... then swiped her panting lips with the back of a well-toned forearm. “And while streaming to boot.”

The screen wiped to a darker shade. The performance cards for the match manifested before her dull eyes. The athlete's blue brow furrowed.

“Oh come on!” she sputtered, squirming her pert pantied rear indignantly into the plush of her computer seat. “No votes for me?! Rrrngh! I would have gotten more sword-kills if the pocketing grandma just friggin' nano'd me!”

Her protests fell on deaf channels. The match was well over, and the screen shimmered to a bright background as she was tossed back into queue.

“Aaaaaaaaaand back to the waiting game once again,” Rainbow groaned. “Am I playing a competitive shooter or waiting at the DMV?” Sighing, she enjoyed momentary relief by rubbing the cold condensation of the bottle across her flushed forehead. “Mmmm—the world may never know.”

A smile crossed her lips—only because she heard a familiar chime towards the bedside table situated perpendicular to the desk. With an effortless kick, Rainbow Dash swiveled clockwise in her chair—stopping upon the sight of her still-glowing cell phone. There was a message notification; it was most likely Pinkie Pie. Ages ago, the party planner had fallen into the habit of wishing “Dashie” a good night's sleep every evening. It was silly, sappy, and more than a little bit hokey—but Rainbow secretly relished a dear friend acknowledging her existence before bedtime. It felt nice surrendering to the pillow with the last waking thought dwelling on love and acceptance.

Rainbow picked her phone up and swiped the mobile device to life. There were several messages, as it turned out. The game blaring in her headphones minutes prior must have masked the barrage. Not being one to play preference with her friends, Rainbow simply tapped on the first one.

It was from Twilight Sparkle. A Hubble Telescope photo of the Andromeda Galaxy was accompanied with the following text:

Don't forget, Rainbow! Our study session is tomorrow afternoon! Five o'clock sharp!

Rainbow sighed—albeit through a soft smirk. Ignoring her own sweat for the moment, she plinked forth a swift reply with agile girl fingers: 'Wouldn't miss it for the world. See ya there, egghead!'

She hit Send. It may have been late in the evening, but Rainbow Dash knew that Canterlot High's brightest was bound to be up past midnight—pouring through textbooks and dictionaries. Or bingeing Infographics on Youtube. One or the other.

Rainbow flipped to the next message. To her surprise, it was Fluttershy. The image of an adorable, smiling, bonnet-bearing cartoon bunny rabbit dripped forth the text:

“Oh my gosh. It's so hot. I can hardly take it anymore.”

A chuckle escaped Rainbow's lips. She wiped her own brow and then plucked at the front bust of her shirt, billowing the moist article against herself a few times for cool relief.

“You and me both, girl,” she rasped.

A few seconds were spent tonguing the inside of her mouth, and Rainbow eventually replied: 'How about a nice cold shower? It always does the trick for me. Especially in this crazy frickin' heat wave.'

Her blue fingers flipped again. Her heart skipped a beat. It was Pinkie Pie. A bunch of pink party balloons with smiley faces vomited forth a string of pastel emoticons for five solid lines before an elaborate string of text manifested in joyous finality:

Have a Happy Chase the Sheep Over the Fence Party! With Extra Hoppity Hops for Comfy Pillow Fwomps!

Rainbow groaned. Rainbow rolled her eyes. Rainbow sighed with contentment. She kicked at the bedside table, and she spun two lazy pirouettes in her chair while thumbing up a reply. It was the only sincere way to text Pinkie Pie back, and she was baptized with the cool kiss of her fan with each turn as a reward. At last—coming to a stop—she propped her sweaty bare legs up on the desktop and hit Send: 'I'll dream of counting sheep so long as their wool doesn't make me trigger a heat stroke.'

It was with frightening swiftness that Pinkie Pie delivered a response:

Then count penguins instead! Here I am—Sending Dashie ALL of my blistery cold arctic wishes! Annnnnnnnnd—ZAP! I enchant thee with rain, sleet, snow—all of a mail deliver's chilly nightmares!

“Heh,” Rainbow Dash exhaled. With a tired smile, she replied: 'Heh'

Good night, Dashie!

'Good night, Pinks.'

With that done, Rainbow opened up Twitter. Then Reddit. Then Twitter again. At last, all of her notifications were glanced at. All except for Instagram, but—well... it was Instagram.

Satisfied, Rainbow Dash put the phone down. She stretched... then stretched some more, straightening her petite body like a sweaty, feminine plank between her desk and the chair. The fan's cool air tickled against her exposed midriff, drying the moisture around her belly button. She reached a lazy hand down and scratched lethargically under the leftside waistband of her briefs, then exhaled long and hard to the ceiling.

“... … …what if this is as good as it sweats?”

There was no reply. Most certainly not from the game. She squinted depressingly at the glowing white rectangle of her computer screen. She had been waiting in queue for nearly three minutes, and still no game.

“Hrmmmff... maybe I should just switch to Metal Gear Grandma. Shit would load in faster than greased hedgehogs.”

The stagnancy of the summer night pierced her organs like an archer's arrow. Rainbow Dash glanced at her half-empty bottle and suddenly felt a stirring. So she got up to take a brief pee break—

—when her phone lit up again.

“Hmmm?” She glanced over, smirking at the thought that Pinkie—once again—refused to let anyone else have the last word. “I swear—this better not be a 'chocolate rain' joke.”

Rainbow picked her phone up, swiped it, and looked at the message that had just been sent. As it turned out, it wasn't Pinkie Pie. Rainbow saw a familiar cartoon bunny rabbit, and beneath its bouncing pastel figure:

“Why ruin things with a cold shower? Seems like such a waste. I snuck in here for a reason, y'know. It's just you and me now.”

Rainbow Dash blinked. She looked up at the last thing she sent... and the last thing Fluttershy sent before that... then she blinked again.

But before her confused words could move her fingers into replying, an animated ellipsis on Fluttershy's end dance... soon to materialize into the following:

She closes the door behind her, locking it. She keeps her eyes on you, lidded and heavy. Her fingers trail up the curves of her body, watching—waiting—for your gaze to grant her permission to unwrap this pristine package.

Rainbow Dash sat up straight. Moist pits and all. She suddenly didn't have to pee any longer.

The texts kept rolling through with alarming frequency:

“I'm so tired of being nice and squeaky clean all the time. Now that I have you here alone, it's time to get rotten and dirty. I can only be the way I want to be around you, my precious~”

She cups her hands around her bosom, squeezing her tender breasts through her sweat-stained blouse. You can smell her vanilla perfume wafting across the room as she teases herself, the nipples poking against the flower-printed fabric. Like a field of daisies just waiting to be pollinated. Her thighs squeeze together, and she can't help but moan as she looks you up and down, her breath getting hotter and huskier.

“Tell me. Tell Mommy what you want to see first. Her peaks? Or her valley?”

Rainbow Dash didn't know whether to snort or hyperventilate. As fate would have it, she lacked the breath to do either. Whatever oxygen reserve remained in her body was hitched in the back of her throat, growing dry and dryer. She shook her head a few times—to see if this was some weird wet dream that she could snap out of it. She felt droplets of sweat flickering in her peripheral, and she realized her trembling flesh was now covered in an oily sheen. Like a dolphin floundering to some hot, wild surface.

“Why... is she using quotations...?” Rainbow dolloped into the air, only realizing far too late how stupid a detail this was to point out. But if she tried to use her brain to formulate anything else, she might lose motor functions and drop the phone...

...along with her only sacred vessel for:

“Mmmmm. Feeling shy today? It's not a very good color on you. Don't worry. Mommy Flutters knows just what will break you out of that adorable fluffy shell~”

She turns around, eyes locked on you over a sultry shrug of the shoulder. She takes her time with the zipper on the back of the tight-tight top, pausing—and delighting—as she exposes her bra strap to you. Once it's unzipped all the way down, she slithers one arm out. Then the next. She tosses the blouse to the floor and slowly spins to face you—but not without rolling her palms under the lace cups of her brassiere. The fabric is low-cut with a floral trim, the nipples just barely peeking above, excited to see you... excited to see you seeing them.

“Feast your eyes, my love,” she says, tossing her hair and giving you a smokey gaze through the settling pink bangs. “Stare as long as you want.” She licks her lips and presses her breasts tighter and tighter—until they completely pop out of the bra altogether. She's exposed and naughty and from the burning twinkle in her eyes, you can tell that she loves it—only because she's with you. “But promise me you'll be touching them soon. Mmmm—I don't want this night to end without you pawing every inch of Mommy's body. Can you promise me that?” She bites her lip, purring as she looks you up and down. “Can you have your way with Mommy tonight?”

Rainbow Dash blinked, her lips pursed—chapped from the hot breaths filtering in and out of them.

“Uhhhhhh...” She wheezed.

Her thighs squeezed together.

“Uhhhhhhmmmm...” She croaked.

A shudder rolled through her—and she realized she was squeezing her own athletic thighs tightly together. Moisture met moisture, and she shook out of the stained moment to suffer a brief stab of lucidity. With trembling fingers, she interjected as well as a loyal friend could: 'Fluttershy? What's all of this? Are you... okay?'

The response from the pastel rabbit was startlingly swift:

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rainbow's heart sank. She bit her lip, encumbered with a pang of worry. Her fingers began plonking a reply...

...only for her twitching eyes to witness:

“I'm going insane just THINKING about you!”

She unhooks her bra in a flash and tosses it at your face. She waits for you to drag the article away from your eyes, and that's precisely when she tugs her pants down, revealing her hi-cut golden thong, with a hot wet spot glistening front and center. It takes the tiniest tug of her curled finger to expose her puffy pussy lips—shaved and needy—with a turgid red clit crowning the slitted summit, beckoning you with heat and musk.

“Look, my love,” she huffs and whimpers, her breasts jiggling weightedly with each pronounced breath. “Look at how fucking wet you make me. Each hour of every day, Mommy soaks herself thinking of you crawling all over her.” She gulps dryly, stroking trembling fingers across her lower lips, pausing to spread the pinkness with a lurid invitation from across the room. “I might as well not wear panties anymore; you make me so goddamn horny.”

A tiny squeak left Rainbow's lips. She didn't realize she was holding the phone with one hand until it nearly slipped loose once or twice.

Cursing at herself, Rainbow yanked her hand away from the waistband of her briefs. Without ripping her beady eyes from the phone, she pivoted in her chair, loosened the fan's pole, and dropped it—Clank!—until the spinning blades were now even with the chair. She then spread her legs and proceeded to aim the stationary fan straight at her crotch as another message materialized:

“Why so quiet, my love?”

She giggles. She purrs. She strides towards you, hips swaying. She shimmies out of the thong and kicks it away with painted toenails while fluffing her hair up over arched breasts.

“As much as Mommy loves doing all the housework, please don't leave me in the dark.”

She stares at you with bedroom eyes. So pink and pure and sweet—but she wants you to dirty her. Dirty her completely like the horny slut that only you can make her feel like.

“Tell Mommy how you would like to fuck her. Tell her now. Mommy can't wait anymore; she needs to know.”

Rainbow Dash's ankles curled into invisible stirrups as she surrendered the full depths of her pantied groin to the intensely-blowing fan. Awash in sweat and hysterics, she rode a wave of giggles. Her nostrils flared, her lips curved, and her fingers immediately began hammering a sentence of carnal desperation: 'Please oh please for the love of God come over here and sit on my fac—'

Just then, Rainbow Dash stopped in mid-sentence. She did not hit Send. She didn't even hover her finger over the green icon flanking her message field.

Something had wrenched her throbbing heart away from the moment. Something cold and sober and loyal. For the first time in minutes, her eyes wandered away from Fluttershy's texts. She found her gaze hovering on her computer screen. The queue had ended, a match had begun, and already a red message banner with a rotating timer icon was threatening to kick her inactive client from the hero select screen.

Computers. Technology. Global Warming...

Rainbow Dash awoke from the heat of it all—as if struck with an iceberg. Fluttershy was her friend. On top of that, nothing about this situation made sense.

That's when truly nauseating thoughts filtered through her humid skull: Maybe Fluttershy's texting app had been hacked into. Or maybe the heat wave was morphing the young woman's personality. Or perhaps she had left her phone beside an erotic audio recording while Text-To-Speech was turned on. Or what if Elon Musk and Bill Gates had kidnapped Fluttershy and were forcing her to sustain a horny communist vaccine at gunpoint.

Okay... maybe not that last scenario, but this—all of this—was so unlike Fluttershy. The rational human being piloting the athletisexy shell of Rainbow Dash realized that—despite the erotic wonderment of the situation—this couldn't have been something that Fluttershy had meant to transpire. At least—not with Rainbow Dash as a witness.

And then...

An even more sickening thought struck Rainbow Dash. A thought that—at first—made her roll her eyes. Then it made her want to vomit. Somehow, summoning strength from the core of her sweaty soul, Rainbow Dash managed to hold her lunch in.

On a crusade of righteous anger, she threw her fingers to the phone and viciously typed: 'Okay, Zephyr. Enough is enough. I don't know where you came up with this idea, but it's totally NOT-cool. Now give Fluttershy back her phone before I get on a bike, ride over there, and circumcise you with your own teeth.'

There was a momentary pause.

As the seconds rolled into a minute, Rainbow Dash arched her sweaty brow. Surely, she had caught the dirty culprit in the act.

But then—after a dance of ellipses—a reply came:

(Huh? Why are you bringing up my brother? Are you trying to kill the mood?)

Rainbow Dash did a double-take. The only thing more surprising than the sudden tone-shift in text was the glaring presence of parentheses.

Nevertheless, she stifled an angry groan and replied: 'Joke's over, Zephyr. Fluttershy would never write anything like that. Ever. Now drop the phone. I mean it.'

(What kind of RP is this? This is Fluttershy. I promise.)

'Will you knock it off?'

(Did I do something to upset you? I promise that it's me, my love. If you don't want to play our silly games tonight, you can just tell me)

Rainbow Dash blinked.

She glanced to the left of the room. She glanced to the right of the room.

Then—with a flinch—she gritted her teeth and nervously texted: 'Fluttershy, it's Rainbow Dash.'

(Rainbow Dash? You want to include her again? That's fine, my love! Who gets to RP her this time?)

'No. Fluttershy. This. IS. Rainbow Dash.'

“Oh. Rainbow Dash! You've come to join us! Want Mommy to help with your jogging shorts?”

'Dammit, girl! Friggin' look at the Daring Do pith helmet icon beside my name!'

(Huh? Daring Do?)

'You're texting the wrong person!'

There was a pause.

(Ummmmmm)

There as an even longer pause.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ellipses. Ellipses. Ellipses. Then—

dkjlonredmkjlimkorfdkoirefdkoefswopklefd

And then...

...no further texts.

Rainbow Dash blinked. She cocked her head to the side.

'Fluttershy?'

Silence.

She tilted the phone ninety degrees.

'Flutters?'

Dead. Silence.

“... … …”

Rainbow Dash let out a long... long winded breath. She typed:

'Whelp. Try to stay cool!'

And she got up. Turned from the computer. And ran full-speed towards the bathroom shower.

The next day...

Five o'clock sharp... …

Rainbow Dash sat lazily in the shade of an outdoor patio in the heart of Canterlot High School's courtyard. She had her legs kicked up on the edge of a picnic table as she reclined on the accompanying bench. She flipped through a textbook, getting a head-start on studies. Despite the heat of the summer afternoon, she hummed pleasantly to herself.

A few minutes later, she heard the soft scuffle of sandals.

Rainbow Dash looked up. Her whistling stopped.

A very limp, very quiet, and very embarrassed Fluttershy walked up to the bench. She paused, fidgeting in place, hugging a stack of textbooks tightly to her chest.

Silently, Rainbow Dash lowered her legs from the table, sat up, and politely scooted aside to give her best friend some room to sit.

Fluttershy did so, demurely adjusting the modest lengths of her dress skirts. She squatted in a mousey hunch beside the athlete, gnawing on her bottom lip as she stared sad daggers into the wooden finish of the patio table.

Rainbow Dash reached into her backpack, pulled out a fresh, cold bottle of water, then slid it over to the young woman.

Fluttershy took it without looking up. Her cheeks burned... then burned even redder.

“Ahem... sooooooo...” Rainbow propped her smirking expression against a casual palm. “'Arr-ForwardSlash-FluttershiesWritingMommies'?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm—!” Fluttershy buried her face in her palms and whimpered. “I'm so sorry! I'm so so so so sorry—”

“H-hey...” Rainbow chuckled at first. But swiftly—she reached over and cupped her hands over Fluttershy's. “Hey.” She gazed at her friend with a soft, friendly smile. “It's okay. It's okay.”

“... … ...” Fluttershy gaze doefully back at her, shoulders hunched and pink bangs drooping.

“I won't tell a soul. Pinkie Pie Promise.” Rainbow winked, giving Fluttershy's hands a soft squeeze before leaning back against the tabletop with casual swagger. “Besides—for what it's worth—I had a good shower last night.”

“Mmmmmm...” A fuchsia strand of hair fell loose over Fluttershy's brow. She pushed it up over her dainty ear, only for the strand to fall limp once more. She sighed. “Me t-too...”

“Now...” Rainbow Dash raised a finger. “...all I wanna know...”

Fluttershy looked up with a fearful expression. “Yeah...?”

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. “...just who's the lucky dude?”

“Uhm...” Fluttershy squirmed in her seat. “It's not a he.”

Rainbow paused... then nodded. “Well, I bet she's the luckiest gal on the planet.”

“It's... n-not a she,” Fluttershy whispered.

Rainbow blinked. “Then... who... … … what—?”

“Helllllllo therrrrre!” Twilight Sparkle's melodic voice dripped onto the scene. The two friends looked up to see their favorite bookworm strolling up to the table with a monstrous stack of textbooks. “Ready to nail that upcoming test? Stellar! Let me just get settled...” As she sat down, she nodded with her head towards the air beside her. “I hope you don't mind that I brought company.”

Right on cue, a fluffy purple dog hopped up onto the picnic table.

“Whew! Hot day we're havin', isn't it?” Spike smiled at Rainbow. “Hiya, Rainbow Dash!” He turned and smiiiiiiiiled at Fluttershy, canine eyebrows wagging. “Heeeeeeeeeey there, Fluttershy.”

“Uhm... h-hi...” Fluttershy waved back at the pup, blushed, glanced briefly at Rainbow Dash, then blushed some more. The fingers of her waving hand curled sheepishly inward, lingering in place.

“... … ...” Rainbow glanced between Fluttershy and the colorful mutt who was spinning three times before lying down atop the table, nose to anus. “... … … ... ... ... eh, whatever.” She unscrewed another water bottle and took a long, sweaty drink. “At least you're not a Sigma main.”