Yet Another Horrible Decision - Chapter 10 (Clean)

				  Yet Another Horrible Decision

				        Chapter 10 (Clean)



>A gruff, piercing shout rouses you from your slumber.
>Shit, just when you were getting to the best part of your dream.
>That’s it, the hell with this. Whoever’s trying to wake you up can go right the fuck away. You grunt and flail an arm around, attempting to shoo out whatever prick is trying to bother you.
>You’ve got a queen to cum inside and damned if anyone is going to stop you.
>“Come ON, Anon! Shake flanks, you were supposed to be up at reveille fifteen minutes ago!”
>That voice... it’s definitely not the honey-sweet, silky auditory balm that Chrysalis has.
“Go ‘way...”
>You can hear a sigh emanate from your side. “Alright, officer candidate. You asked for it.”
>You can feel a tug on your blankets for a second, then a sudden wash of cool, wet air crashes over your body. You can hear a sharp intake of breath as everything is laid bare.
>Oh God damn it. That’s it, it’s over. You’re never sleeping nude again. Ever.
>The voice, which clearly belongs to Spitfire, tries hard to stifle a chuckle. “Well, officer candidate, looks like *snrk* at least part of you is awake and at full attention!”
>You feel blood rushing to your cheeks as Spitfire desperately tries not to laugh.
“All right, all right! I’m up!”
>You throw your hands over your rock hard shaft, forming a strange tent-like shape to best cover yourself. You look over at Spitfire, dressed in a light cottony white shirt and nothing else, the lone lightning bolt signifying female Wonderbolts emblazoned on the sleeves.
>“Pffft... alright, recruit, I expect you out on the track in no less than ten minutes!” Spitfire turns and begins to walk away, fiery tail swishing with her hips.
>As she nears the door, only several feet away from your bunk, she turns to you once more, a hint of orange blush coloring her cheeks. “Make it fifteen minutes, Anon. Take care of yourself first,” she says, nodding towards your groin. “I don’t like being distracted during morning PT.” A smirk creeps onto her features and she walks... no, not walks.
>Her hips swing a little more and her tail increases its pendular sway, affording you a hint of a glimpse of her lips. That’s a straight up sashay.
>You have to smile a little at that. She’s obviously playing at the part of ‘gruff, tough, drill instructor’ and having more than a little fun doing so. At least she made things a bit easier for you...


>After spending a few minutes polishing the purple-helmeted warrior to a slick shine, you throw on the clothes you brought with you for training, a simple white t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. Technically not a uniform, no, but until something can be made for you there’s little choice. Besides, Captain Spitfire gave the okay for it.
>You step out of the empty barracks you spent the last night in and find the Wonderbolts in formation on the track. Spitfire is off to their right and Soarin’ in the middle of a group of three in front, with who you take to be Misty and Breezy flanking him diagonally in back. Seems the space between them is reserved for you.
>“About time you made it, maggot!” Despite her shouts and gruff tone, Spitfire still sports a wry grin.
>At this point, you regret every horrible decision you’ve ever made in your life. Sleeping nude chief among them.
>“First day of training and you can’t even drag your ass out of bed on time! I can’t believe I ever invited you in! You’re not Wonderbolt material, shaved ape!” Spitfire takes wing while speaking and floats directly in front of your face, snout centimeters away from your own nose.
“You’re wrong, ma’am! Allow me to prove to you my dedication, ma’am!”
>Spitfire’s eyes narrow and out of nowhere a hard hoof smacks you upside the head. “DON’T YOU EVER SPEAK UNLESS I COMMAND YOU TO! DO YOU UNDERSTAND, OFFICER CANDIDATE?”
>You’re not going to take the bait. You keep your mouth shut and stare her square in the eyes.
>“Speak, officer candidate!”
“Yes, ma’am! Understood, ma’am!”
>Spitfire leans into your ear, whispering: “You learn fast, Anon. Keep it up!” She pulls back away and returns to her position at the side of the formation.
>“Officer candidate Anonymous! Fall into formation, post haste!”
>You jog down the track and take your place between the two mares and behind Soarin’. All of the rest of them similarly wear light, white shirts with symbols on the sleeves. It would almost seem too cold and wet to be wearing such light clothing, but the storm has mercifully stopped, the morning sun burning holes through the puffy, grey clouds in parts.
>“Alright, Wonderbolts! You too, maggot! We’ll start with a jog on hoof, ten laps around the track. Let’s go, move it, move it!”
>The front rank begins to walk forward. You stick out a foot to begin, though a wing presses against your stomach. “Let them get about 6 hooves in front,” Misty whispers to you.
>“You’re rear rank today, so pay attention to us and follow our lead,” Breezy murmurs, careful not to speak loudly enough to be heard over the din of hoofsteps and Spitfire’s shouts.
>The wing releases you and the mares beside you begin to walk at first, then trot at a nice, controlled speed. Your larger legs somewhat reduce your rate of exertion. “Don’t worry about the captain, new guy. She likes to screw with the new recruits,” Misty says in a low tone, her words punctuated by her hooves clopping on the pavement. “Anyway, next up is a cadence. You know what that is?”
“Of course I do. Even military culture is similar—”
>“Shh! Not so loud! First time we go through it I don’t think Cap’s going to mind too much if you don’t join in. Better learn quick though, unless you like push-ups,” Breezy adds with a wink and a smile.
>The pace picks up a little, the pegasi’s hooves clacking neatly on the pavement nearly in unison. Spitfire drops back a bit, roughly equidistant between the two ranks.
>“Alright, ‘bolts! Time for a cadence! Keep in step and pump up those heart rates, ponies!”
>Spitfire trots alongside, head facing forward as she begins to shout. “Who are the best fliers in the land?!”
>The front rank replies in unison: “WONDER!”
>Breezy’s wing taps your side as they speak. You take a breath and prepare to shout.
“BOLTS!” you exclaim along with Breezy and Misty.
>“Great timing, Anon! You’ve got the hang of it!” Misty whispers to you, head still facing forward.
>“Against our enemies who will fight?!”
>“WONDER!”
“BOLTS!”
>Spitfire slows her pace a bit, dropping back alongside your rank. “How you doing, maggot?! You want to quit, don’t you?! You want to run home to mommy and eat a custard pie, don’t you?!”
“Ma’am no ma’am!”
>“What was that, Anon?! I can’t hear you!”
“MA’AM NO MA’AM!”
>The cadence stops a moment as everyone rounds the corner, Spitfire still keeping pace with your rank.
>“When the changeling hordes come back again!”
>You have no idea how to respond to this one.
>Both ranks shout in unison, repeating what Spitfire shouted. “When the changeling hordes come back again!”
>“We will crush their bones and tear their skin!”
“We will crush their bones and tear their skin!”
>Although you have the idea, this cadence is a little unsettling. During your time with Twilight, you purposefully stayed away from any mention of changelings or their queen. You don’t really know the basis for the animosity between the two species, and you hardly feel comfortable wishing death upon the people whose queen you were just dreaming about.
>Still, you play along with everything, receiving occasional nods of encouragement or whispers of assistance from your rank-mates.
>By the time you’ve finished ten laps around the small track in front of the barracks, you’re somewhat winded. Even though you’re not in the best of shape, you seem to be doing about as well as the rest of the pegasi.
>“Good job, Wonderbolts! You too, Anon! Next up are wingtip pushups! Anon, since you don’t have wings you’ll just have to use your arms. Now drop and give me fifty!” Spitfire orders. She doesn’t exclude herself from the exercises, however, dropping to face the ground herself.
>Watching the pegasi around you is fascinating, their wings clearly strong enough to bear their full weight. You join in with the others as they shout their numbers, most of them keeping pace with each other.
>The push ups only take a few minutes before being completed, although your arms are already on fire. You haven’t exercised like this since school, but you did do a few manual labor type side jobs in the past few months.
>“To the main track, everyp0ny! Time for flight drills!” Spitfire commands. The rest of the Wonderbolts all take off towards the main track which doubles as your runway.
>“Officer candidate!” Spitfire asks, staying behind a moment to speak with you.
>You straighten your stance and look straight ahead, attempting to appear as military as possible.
“Yes ma’am!”
>“Since you don’t have wings, and I don’t really know what exercises you humans do for strength and endurance training, I’m leaving the rest of your PT up to you. I’ll be monitoring you for a bit, and I’ll be checking on you from time to time, though! If I find out you’re slacking, if you’re not breathing hard and dripping sweat, then I swear on the sun that I will PERSONALLY ensure you clean every window on base with a toothbrush and a bar of soap! DO YOU GET ME!?”
“MA’AM YES MA’AM!”
>Spitfire smiles and drops her voice so the others can’t hear. “I’m really impressed, Anon. You keep up the good work you’re doing, you got me? Now come on, let’s find somewhere for you to work out.”


>After doing a bunch of bodyweight exercises, stretches, push-ups and whatnot, Spitfire approaches you. She examines you a moment, listening to your labored breaths and observing the sweat dripping from your forehead and soaking your shirt.
>“Alright there, officer candidate. That’s enough for now, morning PT is over. Hit the showers and meet up with the rest of us in the officer’s mess for chow, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
>You turn and begin to walk towards the recruit’s barracks.
>“Not so fast, newbie! Water main’s off in there. Follow Soarin’ and Rapidfire. And grab another set of clothes. Your stuff is in the stallion’s quarters.”
>Soarin’ and Rapidfire are walking together towards the further of the two officer’s dorms, joking and laughing. You wheel around and head in their direction, jogging lightly to catch up.
>Spitfire takes wing and flies over to the group of mares heading to the near building.
>It only takes a moment before you’re caught up with the two pegastallions. “Hey Anon! Great work today! Coming with us to the showers?” Soarin’ asks with a grin.
“That’s what Captain Spitfire told me to do. I could use one anyway.”
>“Don’t let the Cap get you down, Anon. She’s just messing with you. Tartarus, you got let off easy compared to what she does to the actual recruits,” Rapidfire tells you, laughing as he seems to recall previous instances.
>You’re in a good mood as the three of you enter the dormitory. As Spitfire said, the box with your bags and clothes is neatly tucked away in a corner of the entranceway.
“Hold up, guys, let me grab a fresh pair of clothes.”
>You walk up to the box and rifle through it, finding a decent shirt and slacks. Most of the first shipment of Rarity’s designs are based on the business-casual attire you let her borrow. Some are outright copies, only differing in color and material. For never having made human clothes before, Rarity did an excellent job. They fit perfectly and are even more comfortable than the old clothes they’re based on.
>Rapidfire and Soarin’ are waiting in the lounge just beyond the entryway. When they notice you walking their way, they turn around and mosey on down the hallway, taking a left and pushing their way through a grey-painted door.
>You follow them in, finding yourself in a room equipped with communal showers and a few squat toilet stalls. “Fresh bars of soap in the box on that wall, Anon. Mane shampoo and stuff is in the showers,” Soarin’ informs you, nodding towards a cabinet set at waist height on the wall opposing the door. There’s a hamper as well, which both Rapidfire and Soarin’ toss their PT shirts in.
>You strip down, tossing your clothes in the hamper, and grab a bar of soap out of the cabinet. You’ve never taken a group shower before, seems like the tradition died out back home by the time you got into highschool. No matter; ever since you’ve entered this strange new world you’ve tried all sorts of things you’d never done before.
>You can hear the hiss of water erupting from a spigot in the showers, warm steam beginning to flood outward into the rest of the room. You waltz onto the raised and tiled floor, soap bar in hand.
>Soarin’ and Rapidfire are each at a showerhead, hot and steaming water cascading over their fur. Rapidfire notices you in his peripheral vision and turns around. “Hey Soarin’, check this out!”
>Can’t say you didn’t expect this. Wearing clothes all the time is seen as a rather strange habit here. It’s no wonder the ponies are curious.
>Soarin’ turns to look at you, letting the water course down his back. “Oh, so that’s what you humans look like under all those clothes you wear, huh? Interesting.”
>“Packin’ some heat there, eh Anon? Not too different from us, actually,” Rapidfire slyly notes. You turn walk up to a wall-mounted showerhead. Fortunately, these ones are set a bit higher up than the one back in the castle. You can actually stand under it. You turn on the water, which is already warm bordering on hot, and rinse the sweat and grime off your body.
>“So Anon, you shower with us, we’ve gotta know. Wonderbolts tradition. Hey Rapid, get my back, will ya? Anyway, Anon: You ever use that thing? I mean here, in Equestria,” Soarin’ asks with a lewd grin.
>You spend the rest of the shower exchanging bawdy stories with your two new friends and engaging in totally-not-gay cleanliness assistance.


>The howling winds of the powerful dust-storm screech outside the packed earth and resin walls of the hive. Chrysalis waits patiently on her throne on the ground level, floating a glass of the human’s excellent wine to her lips.
>She takes a sip and swirls the liquid around in her mouth, relishing the peculiar flavor. The sound of the wind grows stronger for a moment before dying back down. Hoofsteps are clopping closer from the direction of the entrance.
>Wonderful, they’ve arrived! Chrysalis smiles softly and clears her mind. She is a superb actress, and more than ready to play her part.
>Six of her drones, a few bearing the cracks and bruises of battle, step forth into the greenish light illuminating the throne chamber. Behind them are three ponies, gagged and blindfolded, driven forth by the two large Praetorians behind them.
>The two earth ponies, one of each sex, and a male pegasus are brought before her and forced to sit down. Chrysalis nods at the two Praetorians, who set to work removing the blindfolds and gags. The pegasus spits at his captor once his gag is removed, earning a sharp cuff on the head.
>“Praetorian! Do you desire to be punished? Why are you abusing our guests?”
>The Praetorian hangs his head in mock shame. “Forgive me, highest queen. I shan’t do so again without your order.”
>The pegasus speaks up: “Who are you, foul creature? And why have we been brought here?”
>Chrysalis narrows her eyes, staring down the bruised and battered pegasus who dared insult her. “I, whelp, am Queen Chrysalis of the changelings. You were caught trespassing on our lands and I expect you to explain yourselves.”
>The two earth ponies look at eachother with a mix of fear and confusion. The pegasus continues to stare down the mighty queen. “W-we were just taking a shortcut! Please, your Highness, we’re but mere traders,” says the male.
>“Ah, now I see. Well then, I apologize for the treatment you have received. My lands have been subject to much in the way of suspicious activities of late, and I’m afraid I’ve perhaps been a bit overzealous.” Chrysalis coos, attempting to set the ponies at ease. “You should consider yourselves lucky, though; this storm would’ve struck you unawares. Here in these blasted lands the dust-storms can be so violent as to rend skin from muscle, to clean flesh from bones. Please, as my apology for this... misunderstanding, I implore you to stay the night. Medical care will be provided for you as well. I’m deeply, deeply sorry.”
>The three ponies look amongst each other, each nodding in turn. “Thank you for your generosity, Queen Chrysalis. My husband and I would be honored to be your guest,” the mare blurts, bowing as she does so. Her husband, looking to his side, repeats the gesture. The pegasus, on the other hoof, still regards her warily.
>Chrysalis stifles a sigh. Such a shame it had to come to this. If only they could all go peacefully. She glares into his eyes, her own glowing in berylline brilliance.
>“And you, pegasus? Would you like to stay with us?” Chrysalis can’t hide a smirk as the pegasus’s eyes reflect her own green glow.
>“Nggh... Yes, beautiful queen.”
>“Excellent! We’re all agreed, then. My drones will lead you to our medical facilities and then a meal shall be prepared. Drones?”
>The six drones all stand, two flanking each of the ponies, and walk towards one of the tunnels leading deeper into the hive. The ponies get up and follow, relief plastered on their faces. Chrysalis wryly smiles. If only they knew what they were getting themselves into...
>“Praetorians! You shall stay here. You must be disciplined.”
>The two larger, helmeted changelings glance at each other, sitting back on their haunches.
>Chrysalis waits until she’s positive her captives are all well out of earshot, shifting her weight to better accommodate her gravid belly.
>“Excellent work, my sons! The mare is young and fit, she’s perfect for our needs. You and the drones may feed on her husband, drain him dry and sate yourselves. See to it that the willful winged one is sent to my chambers, would you?”
>“Of course, Queen Chrysalis,” one of the Praetorians responds, standing and saluting.
>“The female is not to be fed upon. Prepare a cocoon for her. She will be placed inside on the morrow. As your reward you may have her for the night, slake your lusts and begin her change. Do her no physical harm, though. She is to bear the newest of your brothers,” Chrysalis adds with a contented grin, idly tracing a circle over her swollen womb.
>The time has nearly come. It shall be a scant few weeks until the newest addition to the changeling family bursts forth. And then all of Equestria... no, all the world shall tremble.


>Large, heavy droplets of rain patter against the window, the grey skies whooping and hollering. You’re sitting across from Spitfire in her office, separated only by her desk.
>“I’ve got to hand it to you, Anon. You’ve put up with everything pretty well.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
>Spitfire smiles and shakes her head, her unruly mane tossing about. “You can drop the ‘ma’am’ stuff now. If you were an actual recruit I’d never say that, but this isn’t any average situation. Please, call me Spitfire.”
“Alright, Spitfire. So, how exactly is this all going to work? I’m more than a little confused, to be perfectly honest.”
>Spitfire leans back in her chair, clasping her forehooves behind her head. “You’ll only be in ‘training’—and I hesitate to even call it that—for the next two weeks. Normally it’s a month and a half, but you’re a special case. Really, outside of PT and flight formation training, I haven’t the slightest idea what else to do with you. That’s why I’ll be giving you a long leash. We obviously won’t be flying too much for the next few days, until the storms blow over.”
>You take a moment to chew over what she’d just said. She’s right, of course. And you don’t think you’ll want to slack on this one. For the first time in months you have something to look forward to, something you’re excited and passionate about.
“So then, Spitfire, what should I do next?”
>“Actually, Anon, I’ve been thinking. Normally we’ll have the recruits take classes every afternoon for the first few weeks. Since self-powered flight isn’t exactly a possibility for you, I’ve got an idea: All of the rest of us teach one of the classes, and you’ll be included in that. I’d like you to write out everything you know about human flight history, aerodynamics and aeronautical engineering, really just about everything you know.”
“That... hmm. Alright, Captain, you’ve got it.”
>“I hope you don’t mind my company. Until your custom desk and chairs are delivered, you’ll be sharing my office. Besides, I’d like to work with you on it and learn from you. I find you—and your race—more than a little intriguing,” Spitfire says, her expression intense and her amber eyes staring deep into your own. Almost as if she’s looking past them and into your soul beyond.
“Of course I don’t mind. You mind if I move to your side? It’ll be easier to work together if we’re next to each other.”
>Spitfire blinks, unclasping her hooves and leaning forward. “C’mon over. Plenty of room for the both of us.”
>You move the chair over to her side of the desk. She grabs some paper and pens and you set to work. For the remainder of the afternoon, you and Spitfire work together, shoulder to shoulder, sharing jokes and telling tales while the storm rages outside, a natural symphony and excuse for plenty of fresh, hot tea.


>The next two weeks seem to fly by, with much actual flight involved. You’ve easily spent fifty hours flying in formation. Your body is sore, your muscles ache, and you’re incredibly happy. Your ‘training’, such as it was, is complete. Though you weren’t in terrible physical shape when you arrived in Equestria, the recent weeks of PT are beginning to show. You’ve lost a little weight, and exercise seems easier than it was at the beginning. It’s not like you’ll be done with it anytime soon, either.
>Today, in particular, is a somewhat special day. It’s your swearing-in ceremony, the day you become an official Wonderbolt. And an officer, at that!
>The throne room antechamber looms in front of you. One each of Luna and Celestia’s elite guards bedecked in gold and amethyst plated armor stand at attention, flanking the grand doorway.
>Spitfire and Soarin’, each in full dress uniform, are at your right and left, respectively. They’re in no mood for games or laughs, showing through their countenance the somber seriousness of this ceremony.
>“You’ll enter this room a civilian and leave a full officer of the Royal Equestrian Army, flight squadron twenty-one, ‘Wonderbolts’. This is your last chance to back out, Anonymous,” Spitfire says, her head turning to you.
“Never, Captain Spitfire.”
>A wisp of a smile creeps onto her features for a moment. “That’s what I thought. Guards! Open the doors, please.”
>The two guards each take a door, pushing them open and standing at attention. The throne room is veritably packed with ponies of all kinds. Celestia and Luna each sit on their thrones, their bearing sharp and regal. A row of palatial and royal guards stand between you and the spectators beyond, a few popping flashbulbs flare brightly as pictures are taken. The din of conversation dies down as you, Soarin’, and Spitfire walk in step down the red carpet, coming to a halt just before the twin thrones.
>On each of the three steps leading up to the thrones are two of the Elements of Harmony, each wearing the artifacts that afford them the name. They all smile proudly at you.
>You bow along with Spitfire and Soarin’, your comfortable blue slacks you were instructed to wear shifting softly around your legs.
>“Anonymous of Earth, step forth!” Celestia announces.
>You, Spitfire, and Soarin’ all rise, and you mount each of the steps, halting between the two princesses.
>“Today, Anonymous, you are to join a hallowed fraternity. A respected group held in the highest regard. You will be the first one of extradimensional extraction to become part of the Royal Equestrian Army,” Luna nearly shouts. It takes all you have not to smile at the memories of the time you two had spent together.
>“Do you, Anonymous of Earth, hereby known as Anonymous of Equestria, promise to defend your adopted land? To protect it from all enemies, foreign and domestic?” Celestia asks as she rises from her throne with her sister.
“Yes, your Highness. I do.”
>“And do you swear to obey all orders given by the chain of command, with my sister and I as commanders-in-chief?”
“Where it does not conflict with my conscience, your Highness.”
>A murmur rises from the crowd. Evidently this was not a regular response.
>Celestia’s eyes glimmer along with her vibrant mane and tail. “Good answer! Do you promise to respect the Equestrian Charter? To proactively enforce its dictates and defend the freedoms entailed therein?”
“Of course, your Highness.”
>“Finally, Anonymous: Will you swear fealty to my sister and myself? As rulers of Equestria and the highest authorities in the land?” Celestia and Luna each look at you expectantly.
“I, Anonymous of Equestria, do hereby swear an oath of fealty to both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”
>“Then, Anonymous, kneel before us,” Luna orders. You do as she asks, taking a knee and facing forward. The sister-princesses walk up to you, each of them placing their muzzles on your shoulders. They linger a moment, then rise and take a few steps back.
>“Rise, Lieutenant Anonymous, and receive your badge of office.”
>A navy-blue dress jacket floats in the air around you. You stand and raise your arms to your side, the jacket flowing over them and coming to rest on your shoulders. The jacket is just as comfortable as the slacks, a custom-made order from Rarity herself. You can see her grinning at you in your periphery. Each of the arms sports a patch of a lightning bolt emerging from clouds, the mark of a Wonderbolt stallion. Two yellow stripes adorn the shoulderboards, representative of your rank.
>“Ponies of Equestria! Clop your hooves in applause for the newest member of the Wonderbolts, Lieutenant Anonymous!” Celestia shouts to the heavens. A veritable cacophony erupts as the sound of hooves crashing on tile combine together, whoops, hoots, and hollers joining together in a frenzy.
>You shoot your arm up to your forehead and salute the two princesses, who nod their reception. You pivot smartly around and descend the steps. As you pass each step, the Elements bow respectfully. You reach the spot where Spitfire and Soarin’ are waiting for you, stock straight and still until you reach them. They turn and walk alongside you outside of the throne-room, the guards alongside bowing their heads as you pass. You exit the throne room and enter the antechamber. The doors click shut behind you as the two accompanying pegasi turn around to face you.
>Soarin’ puts a forehoof up and you give him a hoof-bump. “Way to go, LT! You did it!” Soarin’ exclaims, his eyes glowing with excitement.
>Spitfire, on the other hand, takes wing and clasps her forehooves around your neck, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Welcome to the Wonderbolts, Lieutenant! I’m really, really proud of you,” Spitfire says, whispering the last bit into your ear. You can swear you hear the faintest hint of a tremble in her voice. Is this tough mare really on the verge of tears?
“Thanks, you two. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
>Spitfire lingers around you a moment, finally unclasping her hooves and floating back to the ground. “Now that you’re part of the team, Anon, it’s time for another Wonderbolts tradition...” Soarin’ says with a cryptic tone.
“And that is?”
>“That, Anon, is where we take you out for enough drinks to make sure you can’t walk back to the dorms on your own!” Spitfire exclaims, breaking into a giggle afterwards.
>Her laughter is contagious and you soon find Soarin’ and yourself laughing alongside as the three of you walk out of the throne room and into the city.