>You are Anonymous, Senior student at Canterlot High.
>Its another typical rainy monday morning in your second hour psychology class.
>May showers bring Spring flowers you guess.
>Ms. Cheerilee is going on about some big end of the year project.
>Your mind, however, is more focused on your instructor herself, rather than the lecture she’s giving.
>That tight blouse she’s wearing that supports her chest in all the right places.
>The black miniskirt that seems to constrict her ass, making it look like its struggling for air.
>The nylon stockings that stretched across her plump, juicy, legs.
>Ms. Cheerilee was without a doubt, a grade A milf.
>You feel a tightening in your pants as you continue to stare at the voluptuous body at the head of the class.
>You instinctively cross your leg over.
Not now, Anon Jr.
>”-for a large portion of your final grade.” Ms. Cheerilee finishes.
>You drift back to the real world and notice rubricks being passed out to the class.
>As one reaches you, you look it over.
>The assignment is to psychologically evaluate a fellow peer and do a presentation on said student.
>Seems easy enough.
>Just make a Power Point, make some shit up about a friend.
>Easy pass.
>The bell rings signalling the end of class.
>You gather your stuff and are about to walk out when-
>"Anon, could I have a word with you?"
 
>You turn to face your intructor.
"Yes, Ms. Cheerilee?"
Ms. Cheerilee takes a seat in her chair behind her desk and turns to face you.
>"Anon I'm going to cut straight to the point."
Oh shit, did she notice your totem pole of tribute?
This is going to be an awkward conversation.
>"If you don't do well on this assignment, you're going to fail the class."
Phew, not exactly great, but better than explaining why your tent was pitched.
>She was right though, you had been slacking this semester. You had taken Psych thinking of it as a blow off class.
>Who would of thought the human brain was so complex?
>"That is why I'm going to be adding some "special" conditions to your assignment."
What did she mean?
"Excuse me, Ms. Cheerilee?"
>"Are you familiar with a student by the name of Trixie Lunamoon?"
The ego filled magician with the cape?
>You didn't know her all to well, but you've talked to her once or twice.
"Yes, sort of."
>Ms. Cheerilee smiles at this answer.
>"Good, then you know whom to base your project on." she says with a smirk.
Why Trixie?
>"Wouldn't want you to just make stuff up about a close friend for an easy pass."
Damn, she sussed ya.
She's good.
>"If some A+ effort is put into this assignment there could be other rewards besides passing." she says, her eyes now half lidded in a seductive stare.
 
>Ms.Cheerilee leaned forward in her chair, her cleavage knowing no bounds.
My god they're huge!
>They even give Principal Celestia's golden orbs a run for their money!
>"Do you like rewards, Anon?"
"I-I", you stutter
>Ms.Cheerilee rises from her chair slowly and begins to close the distance between the two of you.
>Her hips sway from side to side with every step.
>She raises her arms and drapes her hands around your neck as she nears you.
>She stands about five inches shorter than you.
>She moves her lips to your ear,
"M-Ms. Cheerilee?"
>"shhhhhh, Don't think I haven't noticed you moving around in your seat every day."
>Your face reddens.
>"Looks like Anon's got a little crush on his teacher." she says in a hushed tone as she bites down lightly on your ear-lobe, flicking it lightly with her tongue.
>You moan softly.
>Ms. Cheerilee moves her face to face yours.
>She slowly begins to bring her lips to yours.
>You close your eyes as your lips are met with the warm, wet, moist feeling of- paper?
>You look down to see a slip of paper draping from your bottom lip.
>Ms. Cheerilee removes her arm from your shoulders and giggles as she returns to her desk.
>You remove the slip.
>It's a late pass.
She's good.
>You look up to see Ms.Cheerilee smiling joyfully as she gives you a shooing motion with her hand.
>"Good luck Anon", she coos.
>You walk out the door.
>This project is going to be well worth the effort.
 
>Your third hour class passed by without anything significant occuring, leading to your fourth hour lunch.
>You grab a tray and proceed to fill it up.
>Previously canned corn, artificial carrots, ? milk, and a meatball sub.
Gotta love meatball-sub Monday.
>You start to make your way to your normal table, when a certain face catches your attention.
>Trixie.
Alpha team, mission is a go. Operation interrogate to consummate is underway.
>You take your seat across from the golden ticket to Ms.Cheerilee’s factory.
Huh, does she always sit alone?
>Trixie takes one look at you and huffs before rolling her eyes.
>”Can’t you see the great and powerful Trixie is trying to enjoy her lunch in peace, Anon?”
>You can tell this is going to be a fun experience.
>Listening to miss ego tell you for hours on end on how great she is.
C’mon man focus on the goal!
“Trixie, look, I need your help with a Psychology project.”
>”Why is this a concern to Trixie?”
>You pause to think of how to respond.
She’s not going to help me just to help me. I need to give her something in return.
>You notice a small stack of flyers next to Trixie.
“What are those?”
>You point towards them.
>A wide, confident smile appears on Trixie’s face.
>”Promotionals, for Trixie’s Illusion Extravaganza!”
>Her eyes seemed to shine brighter with each word of her proclamation.
Pretend to care, she just want’s some attention.
“You have an official act now?”
>”A friend of Trixie’s got her an act at a local club.”
“That sounds great!”
That’s it Anon, feed her ego.
>”Of course it is, its Trixies show, after all.”
>“Although….”
>Her face seems to fall.
“Is there something wrong?”
>“Ticket sales haven’t exactly been great.”
“oh?”
>”And if Trixie doesn’t meet the quota for this week she’ll lose her act.
>She looks like shes about to break down into tears.
This must really be important to her.
>A thought comes to you.
“Alright, that gives me an Idea.”
>Trixie looks at you expectantly.
“If you help me with this project, I’ll help you sell tickets for your show.”
>Trixie brings her finger to her chin, thinking it over.
>”Deal, meet Trixie at her house after school to discuss the full terms of the agreement.”
 
>The rest of the day went by pretty fast.
>You head to your locker and collect a notebook and some pens for notes.
>You then head out to the parking lot to your “light red” 2009 Toyota Prius.
Great on your wallet, decimating to your masculinity
>You get inside and pull out your phone.
>You go to your contacts and select Trixie.
“Last Message: 1 year ago”
Has it really been that long?
>You shoot her a text asking if her address is the same.
It has been a year after all.
>A few seconds later your phone vibrates.
“1256 MoonFlower Drive, same as old.”
Easy enough you suppose.
>You start up your, for a lack of a better term, Puss-mobile and head off.
>It’s a good 20 minute drive before you pull up into her driveway.
>It’s a decent, white house in the suburbs.
>The average you’d expect of any middle class family.
>You get outside your car, walk up to the door and knock.
>It’s not long before footsteps are heard inside.
>The door opens.
“Hey, Trixie, ready to get start-”
>You stop mid sentence as you see the clothing ,or lack there of, the young magician is wearing at the moment.
>Nothing light blue bra and pantie lingerie set cling to her skin.
>Trixie stares at you intensely, with what looks like intense hunger.
“U-”
>Before you can utter a syllable the girl grabs you by your shirt, pulls you inside, and closes the door behind you.