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"Laundry Day."
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>A line of sunlight crept its way along the purple bedsheets, outlining the form of a sleeping pony.
>A flick of her tail shifted the sheets around as she lazily rolled over, burying her muzzle deeply into the pillow.
>It took quite some time, but the creeping early afternoon sunlight inched its way up the ponies form, causing her to make quiet, happy sounds as she slept.
>However, it eventually reached her head, touching upon her messy, bright orange mane, inching its way along her cheek, highlighting the blush that found itself inexplicably on her face.
>It warmed her ears, causing them to twitch back, the gentle touch of the sun bringing a quiet moan from her.
>Once the invading light had highlighted the pony, the serenity of the room was shattered as an alarm clock, resting by her vanity rang loudly.
>The incessant noise brought a moan of annoyance from the pony, and soon, she pulled one of her prized pillows into her hooves and half heartedly threw it at the alarm clock.
>Sadly for her, the plush projectile made it halfway to her target before falling to the floor.
>Determined to maintain her sleep, she placed the remaining pillow over her head in an attempt to block out the noise, but to no effect.
>Thankfully, the vibrating alarm clock fund itself skittering across the dresser, falling off of its edge, the ringing coming to an abrupt stop as the floor acted in place of the ponys hoof, ending the wake up call.
>The damage was done, however, and the frazzled pony, somewhere between the transition from filly to mare sat up, her leathery wings fully erect.
>Sitting in place for a moment, she allowed a yawn to escape her before letting her wings fold back in, gazing around the room sleepily.
>”I’m up... I’m up!”
>She shook her head and tumbled out of the bed, somewhat annoyed with herself for talking to an empty room with a whole audience of one, which incidentally was the filly herself.
 
>With all the grace of a diamond dog, she picked up the the failed projectile, better known as her pillow, and deposited it back on the bed. Turning a baleful eye towards the fallen alarm clock afterwards.
>”I hate you.”
>There, she’d done it again, now she was addressing inanimate objects as living things.
>She had to be losing it.
>Sounds of somepony moving about in the kitchen below brought an attentive twitch from her ears and a low rumble from her stomach.
>First things first, Flare, she thought to herself as she caught a glance of her mane in the vanity.
>Her mane was a complete disaster. She almost looked like one of those wild ponies that lived deep in the badlands.
>How novel.
>Flare quickly departed her room, idling down the hall towards the bathroom, confident that it wasn’t currently in use. Her parents never showered in the middle of the day, in fact, she was fairly certain that she was the only pony in all of Canterlot who showered at this time of day.
>Maybe.
>Probably.
>Not like it mattered anyway.
>Nudging the door closed with a hind leg, she stepped into the showering nook and reared up to free a forehoof, turning the knobs the same number of degrees she always turned them.
>Half rotation for hot, full rotation for cold.
>The resulting spray of warm water over her head brought another happy moan from her.
>As Flare washed herself, she began to notice a drip at her hindquarters and the sensation of shower water mixing with a different sort of liquid.
>Curiosity aroused, she reached a hoof back to figure out what it was and was shocked to find the source of it were her filly bits.
>She rubbed a hoof along it the gather up some of the odd liquid and inadvertently moaned as a pleasant sensation tingled up her spine, almost like a wave of warmth rolling up her back and into her cheeks.
>Her hind legs shook a bit from it and she exhaled sharply, bringing her hoof back to her face.
 
>It was now coated with what looked like-
>Actually, she didn’t know what it looked like at all, it was clear and slippery and smelled oddly sweet.
>She took a deeper whiff of it and found heat rushing to her cheeks at the scent.
>This came from her filly bits? Flare found that she enjoyed the scent quite a lot and took another slow whiff of it.
>She overturned the idea of tasting it and instead sat on her hindquarters, eyes going down to her privates and was shocked to see the water having trouble washing the strange liquid away, it seemed that the two didn’t mix well together.
>Flare still had to clean herself, and she had a vague feeling that it wouldn’t be polite if she let this stuff drip everywhere.
>Wash cloth in hoof, she applied it carefully to her girl parts to wipe the liquid away.
>Another moan erupted from her as the pleasant feeling returned, rushing up her spine and making the area between her hind legs feel hot with each stroke.
>Strangely, Flare found herself panting, as though she were out of breath from exertion. She finished cleaning herself and moved the cloth away.
>A small, pink thing popped out of her privates and vanished back into them almost as soon as it had appeared.
>”Eek!”
>She scrambled a bit, heart pumping, was there something inside her?
>Flare frantically searched for the thing again, yet it did not show itself again.
>Whatever it had been, it felt good when it did that thing.
>The adolescent filly was reasonably certain that she did not, in fact, have something living inside her, but she still felt that she should ask her mother about it.
>She blushed at the thought of discussing her private areas with her mother, but quickly pushed the thought aside, she was fifteen, and she wasn’t scared of anything!
>Her moment of self reflection ended as her head went back, the running water soaking her mane and head anew, reminding her that she was now wasting water.
 
>Washing her mane out took only a few moments, however, those moments were wrought with distraction as she thought about how nice it felt to clean her filly parts.
>Certain that she was now clean, the filly turned off the shower and climbed out, the hook on her wing lifting a towel from its rack and onto her head, where she sat and dried her mane out, moving onto her body.
>Afterwards, she still felt oddly warm, especially around her hind quarters.
>Flare put it down to having hot water washing over her for longer than usual and left the bathroom for her own room.
>Clopping sounds from downstairs let her know that her mother was still down there, doing whatever it was she was doing, and doubtless, her mother could hear Flare moving around upstairs
>Now that she was clean and before her vanity, Flare set about her ‘morning’ ritual mindlessly, years of practice doing the exact same thing countless times allowing her to think to herself as she braided her mane into a ponytail.
>She wasn’t exactly fond of the ponytail itself, but it kept the veritable curtain of mane from dangling in front of her eyes, which had proven to be the cause of much calamity in the past.
>Sure, calamity that had led to her earning her cutie mark, but still, the ordeal was horrible.
>Flare twitched her right hind leg in remembrance.
>Sometimes, the filly wondered if it would have been better remaining a blank flank.
>Blank flanks didn’t get into trouble.
>Her hooves finished their task on their own, and she shook her head at herself. What did it really matter? She had her cutie mark now and the past was past.
>Was she really going to wonder what could have been?
>No, she was goi-
>Flare smelled apples.
>Suddenly, nothing else mattered asides from the apples she could already picture in the bowl downstairs.
>The filly trotted on the spot in excitement, a light whinny leaving her as she bolted from the room, barely refraining from racing down the stairs, too.
 
>Upon entering the kitchen, she quickly took to air and was hovering above the bowl of delectable fruit, wholly intent on taking the whole thing when a quiet voice interrupted her.
>”Ah, ah. Only one, sweetie.”
>Flare groaned and looked over at her mother, a pegasus with snow white coat and a straw blonde mane and tail featuring a single highlight of soft pink.
>She was known to everyone else as Spring Breeze.
>The mare hadn’t even turned around, and was still at the sink, washing dishes.
>She did, however, have just one ear turned back towards Flare, the middle aged guard-turned-weather pony wasn’t one to ever be taken unawares and Flare sometimes imagined that she had a little bat pony somewhere in her ancestry with the hearing she had.
>Not that the filly had been overly quiet.
>She sighed and dropped to the chair, obeying her mother as she took just one apple, it was still a prize in itself, the biggest and shiniest one in the bushel.
>It was something she could be content with, at least until she could figure out how to sneak by her mom to get the rest.
>Maybe when she went on guard duty later in the afternoon.
>The devious plan formed in her mind as she munched on her apple, it was flawless!
>Not much maneuvering room in getting away with it though, maybe she could blame a parasprite?
>Flare shifted a little, feeling a little hot under the haunches.
>She froze as she felt a small patch of dampness.
>Ponyfeathers!, it was happening again!
>A flush of embarrassment came to her cheeks, casting a furtive glance at her mom, relieved to find both of her ears again pointed forward, yet still alert.
>No sooner than she had wished for her mom to leave the room, Spring Breeze turned from the sink, finished with her task as she left to find something else to do.
>Flare continued to take bites from the apple, but it tasted like ash in her mouth in the face of her panic.
 
>It felt like her mother was taking eons moving away from the kitchen, and when she finally had, Flare dashed to the counter and took the washcloth in her mouth, trying to ignore the taste of the dishwashing liquid in the water.
>Moving back to her chair, the frantic pony transferred the cloth to her hoof and began to clean up her ‘mess’
>In a moment of horror, she wondered if she would be running around like this for the rest of her life, leaking this juice stuff from her privates at the most inconvenient of times.
>Her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet splash of a drop against the tiled kitchen floor.
>”Celestia, please let that be from the sink.” she muttered to herself desperately.
>Turning, she felt some form of liquid beneath her hoof as she brought it down. Lifting it to look at the underside confirmed her fears.
>”No, no, no, no, no, no...!”
>She knelt and began to scrub the troublesome stuff from the floor, all but ignoring that she was still dripping, the heat in her hindquarters reaching unbearable levels.
>A small cough froze her blood solid.
>Turning around slowly, Flare found her mother standing by the door, watching. The mare had the tiniest hint of a blush on her cheeks and an amused smile, which quickly flickered out of sight as soon as the filly noticed it.
>For her part, Flare wanted to curl up and die right there.
>More than that, she wanted to sink right through the tiled floor!
>It was all over! How was she going to explain this? This was worse than taking too many apples, her mom must think her a freak!
>She was going to be sent to a hospital and the doctors would perform horrible experiments on her. She’d be the laughing stock of Equestria.
>She could see it on the headlines now: The leaky pony
>Flare sat in shame, no longer caring about whether she was still dripping all over the floor.
>The filly’s ears fell to the floor with her gaze, unable to even think of anything to say.
 
>That was when she noticed her own scent, oddly sweet and it scent the tiniest rill of excitement through her.
>It went ignored when she felt Spring Breeze sit by her. pulling the distraught filly into a hug with her wings.
>”There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Flare...”
>Flare found herself being soothed by her mothers voice, but was still embarrassed by the turn of events.
>”Wh-What’s wrong with me...? “
>Spring Breeze nickered softly, “Oh, nothing, nothing at all, honey. In fact, I was half wondering if you were ever going to hit your first estrus.”
>The sheltered bat filly was confused. Estrus?
>When she asked, Spring Breeze drew breath and launched into an explanation.
>”When a filly reaches a... certain age... She begins to feel ‘hot’ every so often. This... ah... Means that she’s ready... To have foals...”
>The older mare tapped her forehooves together, clearly unsure of how exactly to explain.
>”It usually happens at a very young age for mares, too young to consider having foals, but... ah...”
>She trailed off. Spring Breeze clearly hadn’t thought this through entirely, but Flare figured she got the point.
>She’d been to the zoo and seen the animals give birth to their children, the filly hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but looking back, it should have been obvious that it happened the same way for ponies.
>”I think I understand, so... I’m going to have a foal now?”
>Her mother nickered and rolled her eyes, “No, sweetheart, you need a stallion for that! Uh... you don’t have a coltfriend, right?”
>Flare blushed with embarrassment, “N-No!”
>Colts didn’t interest her, anyway, too stocky and gruff.
>”So i’m... fine?”
>Fine? Fine didn’t even encompass how she felt right now, she had just mooned her mother and she still wanted to sink into the floor and die, but she was comforted by the knowledge that what was happening to her was at least normal for mares.
>”Yes, honey... You’re fine.”
 
>Spring Breeze leant in and nuzzled Flare, calming her considerably.
>”But I still have a... ah... a problem...”
>The filly frowned, she didn’t want to keep leaking everywhere.
>”That’s fine, I uhm... I have something that might help you with that, but you’re only to do it when you really need to ‘relieve’ yourself, okay?”
>Relieve
>Flares ears perked up. Her mom always had the answer to any problem for as long as she could remember. Was there anything she couldn’t fix?
>”Okay...”
>Without another word, Spring Breeze led her daughter through the house and to... The laundry.
>The laundry?
>Flare wondered what her mom had in here that could help her.
>The mare reared up and opened one of the closets, rummaging around behind a stack of neatly folded towels, her tongue sticking out in apparent concentration.
>”Ah, ha!”
>She brought out what looked like a ball, but the filly could see her forehoof straining a bit to hold the weight up.
>As it was dumped on the floor, it became slightly misshapen, Flares mother disappearing back into the closet, rummaging for something else.
>Curious, the filly prodded at the little red ball, guessing that it must have been filled with sand. She wondered how it was going to fix her problem.
>A grunt from her mother accompanied a little piece of wood flying out of the closet, bouncing of the wall before hitting the ground.
>With satisfaction, Spring Breeze dropped to the floor and picked up the little piece of wood in her teeth, her wing slipping beneath the washing machine, lifting one of the corners up as she slid the wood beneath, setting the front loader back down on it.
>Flare was confused.
>Her mother, however, went through her movements with practiced ease, next taking the little red ball, putting it in the washing machine.
>”Uhm... Mom?”
>”All ready.”
>A washing machine on a slight angle with a sand filled ball in the compartment.
>Was this some kind of pegasus magic?
 
>Flare voiced her thoughts and Spring Breeze giggled, “I guess you could say that.”
>”What am I meant to do?”
>The mare rubbed the back of her head, avoiding Flares gaze, blushing.
>”You... Sit on it. Go ahead.”
>The filly moved to get on top of the washing machine, Spring breeze providing a hoof up.
>Sitting on top of the washing machine, Flare did not notice any noticeable change in her condition.
>Her mother fiddled with the controls of the washing machine.
>”Mom, I don’t think an-”
>Her words were cut off as the machine started, the little block of wood serving to help the machine shake more than it normally would.
>The vibrations forced a surprised moan from her, her hooves clutching the sides of the washing machine to keep from falling off.
>It only served to heighten her pleasure, her privates being firmly pressed to the machine.
>She could hear her mother talking but only made out a few of her words, which had been her telling her to clean up when she’s ‘finished’ whatever that meant.
>Flare was absolutely lost in bliss and didn’t even notice her mother leave the laundry.
>It didn’t matter that she felt like her hindquarters were burning up.
>It didn’t matter that there was a slowly growing puddle forming between her thighs
>The filly just wanted this feeling to never end, but soon, she wanted more, she wanted the washing machine to shake more and whined in frustration, grinding herself against the top.
>Soon, she couldn’t take it and jumped off. She needed something to make it shake more.
>Flare’s eyes fell on the little red ball inside the machine.
>That had to be it, maybe if she added more things in there, it would make the washing machine shake even more.
>She was dripping all over the floor, but she was too distracted to care as she went out into the backyard with a towel, gathering up a few decently sized stones from the garden.
>These would do just nicely.
 
>The filly brought them back to the machine and popped the compartment open, placing the rocks in one by one.
>She shivered at the thought of how much this would shake, only half concerned about dripping everywhere still.
>Flare closed the compartment back up and sat on top of the machine again, her hoof hovering over the button.
>Biting her lip, she pressed her hoof down on it, yelping when the machine started up, sending hot waves of pleasure coursing through her.
>More and more, the machine shook violently, sending the filly into a place of bliss.
>She didn’t seem too concerned as the machine began to shake more violently than it probably should, she was too enthralled in the foreign sensation she was going through.
>However, her attention began to divert away from that as the washing machine began to skittering and jump around in the spot, slowly working its way out of the nook that housed it.
>Flare began to panic, her carnal desires somewhat forgotten, trying to use her weight to keep it in place.
>It was no use, and the machine only began to shake more, a loud squeal of metal on metal sounding within as the rocks crashed around in the compartment.
>With a squeak of fear, Flare jumped off the washing machine and watched in horror as it began to shake more and more, making a racket as it fell on one side, vibrating and jumping around on the floor.
>It began to shake so violently that the tiled floor starting to crack under the impacts as the structure began to warp and fall apart.
>Eventually the washing machine came apart at the seams, the internal compartment seeming to explode outwards all over the floor until it finally succeeded in ripping out the power cable, coming to standstill amongst a mess of electronic components, cracked floor tiling and Flares ejaculate.
>The filly stood in the doorway, mouth ajar as she surveyed the devastation, there was no way her mother didn’t hear that.
>She whimpered.
>”Mom’s gonna kill me...!”
 
>She turned around, half expecting Spring Breeze to be standing there.
>To her shock, she was, her eyes just taking in the scene stoically, speechless.
>Flare fought back an urge to hyperventilate as she galloped from the laundry, going straight to her room and promptly hiding beneath her bed.
>She mentally cursed herself for still feeling... aroused.
>It was beginning to make her hate herself, by Celestia, it had made her destroy a washing machine!
>Still... The heat in her nethers threatened to drive her mad, it had felt good touching it in the shower, perhaps she could just rub it to make it go away.
>Apprehensively, Flare reach a fore hoof back between her legs, blushing at the moistness she felt.
>She began to rub gently with her hoof, biting her lip to stifle a moan.
>This felt amazing to her, she couldn’t even keep her eyes open, sight only served as a distraction to the heat that began to build up in her.
>Soon, she began to fantasise about how she looked doing this, the images running through her head making her stroke harder, her breaths coming out hot and shallow.
>One image popped up in her head and she almost stopped stroking in shock, but moaned as a new wave of warmth flooded through her at the thought.
>It was her mother.
>Riding the washing machine.
>Flare had never actually seen her do it, but she could well imagine it.
>Her mind added detail after detail to the mental image even as she stroked harder and faster, her moans beginning to become much more than muffled whines.
>She imagined her mothers private areas dripping, much like hers was doing. Images formed of her wings outstretched and twitching with each spasm of her body.
>Flare even heard her mother's moans sounding in her head.
>The filly couldn’t help but picture Spring Breeze damp with sweat as the exertion of staying on the washing machine took all her efforts, her cheeks reddened, tongue hanging out lewdly.
 
>After what felt like an eternity of images flashing through her mind, Flare’s small body trembled as the heat in her nethers came to a head, her hoof becoming a great deal more wet as her eyes rolled back into her head, the filly letting out quiet moans as new and alien sensations overwhelmed her.
>She was running marathon, yet felt as though she were resting on a cloud beneath the hot, summer sun.
>Her breaths were steamy and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of her head.
>Feeling out of breath, and strangely relaxed, the filly let herself collapse, relishing this new sensation that she was experiencing.
>For all the trouble it had caused her, it had felt supremely good to relieve herself to...
>Her mother...
>Flare’s cheeks went red as a wave of embarrassment washed over her, she couldn’t quite put her hoof on why, but she felt ashamed that she’d thought of her mother in such a way to further her own pleasure.
>Thinking of it sent a twinge of guilt and... something else through her.
>Flare just wanted to put this all behind her, but sadly, it was to remain fresh as the door to her room opened.
>She peered out, remaining snugly under the bed and saw a set of hooves.
>Spring Breeze barely even hesitated before laying down at the foot of Flares bed, peering underneath.
>Her mother had always been able to find her with very little effort, no matter how well she hid.
>”Flare... What are you doing under there? Come on out.”
>Her mothers voice was soothing, but it also brought a fresh shade of red to her cheeks as she was reminded of what she’d just done, both down in the laundry and here, under her bed.
>”I-I don’t want to.”
>Flare shrank back, moving deeper under her bed, knowing in the back of her mind that she couldn’t stay under there forever.
>”It’s alright sweetie, I’m not mad at you...”
>Spring Breeze shuffled forward a bit, her head now under the bed, eyes peering into Flare’s softly.
 
>It was an assuring gesture, and it’s not like Flare could help herself was it?
>Her mother then reached a hoof out, and Flare stared at it.
>The filly had never been physically punished before, punishment usually just came in the form of her having to fix things herself, with guidance from her parents, of course.
>But she couldn’t help but wonder if her mother was lying to her, she’d broken things before, but never something as large, or expensive as a washing machine.
>Her mother had never lied to her before, and in fact, promised that she never would.
>Apprehensively, she crawled out from under the bed, eyes averted from her mothers. The filly was shocked when, but hardly surprised, when Spring Breeze wrapped her fore legs and wings around her, drawing her close.
>Flare was more than a little conscious of the mess between her thighs at that moment, but she hugged back anyway, relieved that her mom wasn’t going to punish her.
>”I-I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help it... I just wanted it to stop.”
>Spring Breeze shushed and petted Flare’s unkempt mane down, “It’s alright, Flare. Estrus makes fools of us all every so often.”
>Estrus, a word for what she was experiencing.
>Flare committed it to memory and buried her head in her mother’s neck, trying not to think of the shameful way she’d relieved herself.
>After spending several moments in her mother’s embrace, she felt Spring Breeze’s wings lift off from around her.
>”Alright, you’d better go have another shower, it smells like you need it.”
>The filly blushed hotly and nodded, moving off towards the bathroom.
>”And I expect you to pitch in for a new washing machine.”
>She’d expected it and accepted it philosophically.
>It looked as though Flare would be out of pocket for the rest of the year.
>She heard her mother giggle at the involuntary groan she’d let loose.
>Flare shrugged and closed the bathroom door, leaning against it.
>Such was life.
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>Flare crossed her fore legs, hiding a blush
>"And, uh... That's why I stay in my room during Estrus."
>She muttered
>"...Or go out to find some female company..."
>Anon looked up quickly, "What was that last bit?"
>"Nothing! Shut up!"
>Anon mulled over the story he'd just been told and was shocked at one detail he'd overlooked at the time
>"Hold on, your mom's a Pegasus. I'm no expert, but I'm sure Pony genetics don't work like that."
>Flare tilted her head and observed her companion for a long while before answering, "Because they don't, I'm adopted."
>Anon found his head filling with new questions, questions entirely unrelated as to why Flare avoided any form of machinery like the plague while she was in Estrus, which to be honest, he shouldn't have asked anyway
>Kind of a dick move on his part
>"So... Who's your real mother? Where is she?"
>Flare flinched slightly, and Anon figured it must be a touchy subject
>"With respect to her probable memory... I only know her name, and that she was a night guard."
>'Probable memory'
>Anon was no idiot, but he felt the need to know anyway
>He kept his tone gentle out of respect
>"Flare, who was she? What happened?"
>The bat mare shook herself out of her private thoughts and snapped Anon a playful look
>It seemed forced, meant to hide whatever feelings Flare had about the subject
>"That... Is a story for another time."
>With no more than that, Flare turned on the spot and left for the kitchen, biting into an apple straight out of the bowl, giving Anon another look from the other room, the shiny red apple dominating her muzzle
>She sucked on it thoughtfully a little and trotted upstairs
>Anon knew better than to pursue the matter right now, but he was sure that she'd share the tale when she was ready, or she wouldn't have mentioned it at all