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Aerospace wasn’t quite certain where she had messed up, but she was pretty certain she had messed up far more than her original offense somehow.
 
Things had gone… well enough for a fountain pony at first. It had been a joy to accidentally discover that she could somehow impart some of her knowledge to students and faculty who came to her small fountain to do work. The first student had been a twit, sure, but he had eventually come around. How he—or anypony else for that matter—had never figured out that the ‘Professor imitating Neighcola Tesla’ was in fact the real Neighcola Tesla who had come off of his own ‘community beautification position’ was beyond her. For that matter, that nopony had ever figured out that the timing of her installation just so happened to coincide with her vanishing was just the icing on the princessly cake.
 
Seriously, was the princess sore that during that one parole ‘meeting’ she had managed to increase the pressure of the water and soak that cake? Melody was doing Celestia a favor with that! If the princess ate any more, she’d start growing to a size that was excellent for being a lifting body herself! Err, did she hear that?
 
Maybe it was after the somewhat deranged metal mare had passed on some of her insights to the students, leading to the adoption of some of her concepts and ideas. Celestia’s scruntchy-face when she had come back for another of their ‘meetings’ when the first jet-propelled zeppelin—who had come up with the name? It was so ziesty and peppy and infuriating—had been delightful. She had been less inclined to grant parole on that visit, though she had been understanding about the whole improvement of society.
 
Maybe it had been when the constant edge of arousal had started spilling over entirely into her normal thoughts. That had been a fun time. The heat had slowly drawn up through her polished steel form, squeezing up into her head and fuzzing it until her mind wobbled worse than the solar princess’s mane. Even the faculty had gotten drawn into her aroused state as well, and there were many unusual incidents going on on the grounds. One particular incident had resulted in several students getting involved with a steel mirror, some discordian-era artifact, and a rather stiff few weeks before the Princess came along for another ‘parole meeting’. A few embarrassed explanations in the middle of a few student makeout sessions had led to a strange fashion of willing temporary petrifications for a few years, once with a few companions none the wiser surrounding her.
 
Wait.. what had the princess said? No, she couldn’t remember. Her—oh, the sensations were still driving her mad, years later. That itchy, tingling sensation that would wiggle up her pipe from crotch to spout. The pink haze of just wanting somepony to rub against her until she burst. Wanting the pressure to go up in her pipes until she was blasting across the small space like a fire hydrant. She was inanimate steel, for the sake of Celestia’s solar maregasms! She wasn’t supposed to itch and pulse! She was supposed to creak like she was one of the structural beams of a zeppelin descending from high altitude! Water was supposed to bang around on her insides like a hammer, making her blurble and spray water harder than the time her aura of arousal that the princess had left her with had gotten to the white mare. That ‘parole meeting’ had been interesting, seeing that wavy mane develop solar prominences like those fancy photographs the astronomares took of Celestia’s sun showed, along with turning stiffer than the fountain pony was herself.
 
But the ‘parole meetings’ had always been odd. Each time had been in a odd case after a particular surge of Aerospace ‘helping’ or otherwise influencing the students of the Canterlot University. The princess would come to her, ask a few questions of her cryptically, somehow know what the formerly squishy unicorn wanted to say, then ask if she was done, and leave. What did ‘was she done’ even mean? Did she misunderstand the question? Okay, she had been a little—lot—out of it last time and answered the question with a bit of a moan from really needing to rub her hard steely body against anything to make the pink haze go away. And the time before that, and, well she had been that way for a few of the meetings. It was just so hard to concentrate, tipped on the very edge, denied that last moment of overwhelming yes!ness that she so desperately wanted to have happen to her. She was just trapped, with no end in sight.
 
She could fight it off when ponies were around, push the engineering concepts into their head and pull some of the new orthodoxy out to study. If there were enough, she could sober past the lusty needs of her cold polished ‘flesh’ to help them out. But it had been so hard for so long. Harder than she was. The winters were rougher than most seasons, a prolonged tingle that worked through her whole body, uninterrupted by pesky students giving her a moment’s clarity. The snow would build about her, tickling every inch of her polished body, taunting her with devilish flurries. The cold ice, clinging to her like frozen rivulets of sweat. The snows were the most torturous of moments as she blurred through them in an effervescent vapid season of needing worst of all to just release and let go.
 
The spring was a tease, students coming and going, building up and easing her down off of the worst of her sexual high from her bondage. Each day making it harder for the pink fog to hang around long enough to take her; each dewy morning teasing her with the promise of sweat and motion with the condensation that would trickle into being upon her cold steel form. The birds respectfully shoed from her head before they could be a problem, the drunken students giving her a week of getting right up to the edge once more as they rowdily celebrated their spring break—The petrification fad had come and gone on spring breaks, she remember fondly. The other warm glow of imparting knowledge developing close to the end of the seasonal term as desperate students flocked to her flanks for the hopes of inspirational wisdom…
 
Summers always passed in a semi-blur, one thankfully easy for her. No teasing of snows, or sweaty rain to bother her. A break of pinkened thoughts, of rationality driven in a near strobe-like blur of the motion of the sun as her senses slowly fled her in favor of focusing on her arousing predicament without the students upon the campus. And yet, there were better summers. A few sparkling years where some engineer would return to her in their hour of need, and unknowingly collaborate with the steel specter of the rogue engineer in some mad project. One of the newfangled things, the zeppelins, had come from such an event. Another was the sadly unsuccessful flier-whirlers. Trying to make a wing that spun around to make lift without forward movement was a nice idea, but the pair had never cracked the problems. Alas, the system tended to make what it was lifting spin about as well.
 
Fall was a melancholy season. Young, eager minds seeking wisdom, new impressionable ones being directed to her posing ‘leap’ to the future, the grind of students being straightened into positively ‘delightful’ new minions in Equestria’s engineering fields. The cooling days, the retreat of ponies indoors, the coming of her heady impairment once more. The slow stilling of airship traffic from the Canterlot port… The stilling of life as the seasons marched on. The dulling of her mind beneath her lust-drunk need to get it off THIS season…
 
The coming of the princess once more, and that eager young mind along with her…
 
The summer-lust was upon Aerospace Melody, and despite one of the rowdiest spring breaks in years, Princess Celestia had not come to find out what exactly Aerospace had imparted upon the students. She had spoken ominously—had she?—at the last meeting to discuss the mare’s progress in meditations. Had it been a last chance to agree to her terms? The princess had seemed distracted, her young purple pony protégé had been missing. Aerospace tried to remember what had been going on at that winter meeting. Something about the coming of the night? A busy, bothersome decade to come? Aerospace had the distinct feeling that the princess would be rather busy handling other things, and was sick and tired of coming decade after decade to a parolee who was busier teaching students than thinking about mandatory meditations.
 
Oh BOTHER, BOTHER. Celestia had just rutted her over harder than if she had used her horn. Well, technically she had used her horn those decades ago. Well, being the eternal muse of mechanical melodies wouldn’t be such a bad fate, if she could just get her steely snatch stuffed up and stroked to a polished shine and creamy finish. The lusty afternoon, lost in a rapidly passing haze of focusing on needing to shift and scrub her thighs together, was passing quickly. The great air tower of the Canterlot Cape Airport was as busy as ever as more of the magnificent flying vessels she had helped to create were docking for the niiiii—Oh Celestia’s Steaming Snorts, where was the Mare in the Moon?