Prom Night Epilogue(EqG)

This was just a scene I wanted to add to the original Prom Night Story but never found a place to put it.  It was meant to be the ending but at the time of writing I just wanted to end the story.  But this scene never left my mind so I wanted to get it off my chest.  Think of it as an epilogue.

>Things don't feel too different.
>You have a girlfriend now.
>If you can call it that.
>Rainbow Dash is your friend, sure.
>She lets you do things to her.
>She does things to you.
>She's still a bitch.
>Nowhere near what she used to be
>But you don't take her shit.
>It's... complicated.
>Even though it really isn’t.
>You just make it so.
>Dad seems to think it's your guy's way of showing affection to each other.
>You had asked him about this before.
>He said it would work, albeit; dysfunctional.
>Even so.
>Life largely stayed the same.
>You did your sports.
>She did hers.
>She would come to your games.
>She didn't seem too interested in it until you were up to bat.
>Then she'd scream her lungs out.
>It was cute.
>You'd both meet with each other on occasion.
>You both found a mutual love for DDR and would play together.
>Even came up with a freestyle routine with each other for shits and giggles.
>You finally met her parents.
>Much to your surprise, and Dash's, her father had a vague idea of who you are.
>Turns out he's a baseball enthusiast himself and had kept tabs on you through the local newspaper.
>He gave you a story of how he tired to get Dash into baseball
>When she was a kid she tried to play and she was hit by a ball and cried.
>Thus, she swore off baseball.
>Ha! It's like poetry.

>Today's agenda you decided to take Dash over to the batting cages.
>Partly to get her to shut up about hitting a ball is piss easy.
>Also perhaps to get over her possible phobia?
>You were probably over-thinking it.
>But it would still be a good time.
>You hope.
>You lead Dash into the facility.
>Familiar sounds of baseballs popping into leather gloves and metallic sounds of aluminum bats clashing with ball to send off into the distance.
>It made you feel at home.
>Not so much for Dash.
>Which was fine.
>She didn't have to like the sport.
>But damn you were going to get her to respect it at least.
>Both of you separate and go change into more appropriate clothing for workouts.
>You emerge with your usual getup of black shorts with a long sleeve shirt with 'Wondercolts Baseball' imprinted in front with the School's insignia.
>School colors and all.
>While you wait for Dash you decide to limber up.
>You get some dirty looks from what you assume are players from Crystal Prep.
>Judging by color of their gear led you to this assumption.
>You just shoot them a smile and a wave.
>Nothing gets under their skin more than showing hospitality.
>Entitled cunts.
>”Alright,  I'm good to go!”
>Rainbow Dash makes her way towards you.
>Mostly baggy t-shirt with black sleeves and small tight athletic shorts.
>Tube socks that went up to just under her knees.
>You look up and down at her.
“Alright, follow me.”
>You then lead her into a new area of the facility.
>A large spacious room with rows upon rows of cages.
>In each cage there is a machine at the far end that fires a baseball.
>”Why so many cages?” Dash asks.
“Well, the obvious and short answer is that there is usually more than one person who wants to practice their swings.”
>You point out to the cages at each person who is in a cage right now.
>There are about 9 people in cages at the moment.
>”And the 'not obvious and long' answer?”
“There are two cages devoted to a certain type of pitch speed.  Ranging from 60mph up to 90mph.”
>Her face then lights up.
>”Well then?  Let me at that 90 cage!”
>She begins to make her way down the hall but you grab her by the shirt and pull her back.
“Hold it!  There's no way I'm letting you at it before I see your stance and swing.”
>She looks disappointed.
>”Aww, C'mon! I know I can hit a ball!”
>While she was whining, you grab a bat and a batting helmet and hand them over to her.
“Stop bitching, put the helmet on and get your ass in that 60mph cage and CONVINCE me you can hit a ball!”
>She pouts and drags the bat into the cage.
>”Whatever, this'll be a piece of cake.”
>She activates the machine and gets into her stance.
>At least you think that's her stance.
>Now there really is no right way to hit a ball.
>But there is definitely a wrong way to.
>Her stance is terrible.
>Feet together.
>Knees not bent.
>Hands not close together.
>This is going to be good.
>First ball is shot from the machine.
>Swing!
>Miss!
>A bad swing to boot.
>She only swings her arms.
>You shake your head.
>She can't be this oblivious about how to swing a bat.
“What the hell was that!?”
>You mock her from the outside of the cage.
>”Fuck off! I'm just getting warmed up!”
>She gets in the same stance again.
>Swing.
>Miss.
>”Arrrgh!!”
>Shes getting frustrated.
>Three more pitches.
>Three more swings.
>...and three more misses.
>Then something happened.
>She then spread her legs out.
>She bent her knees.
>And slid her hands closer together.
>She got the hint.
>Another pitch comes.
>She makes contact.
>The ball pops up in the air and drops.
>“Hah!  I'm getting the hang of this!”
>Another pitch.
>She makes contact again.
>The ball dribbles off to the side.
>Another pitch.
>Another ball hit to the ground.
>Final pitch.
>She hits it and sends a line drive up the middle.
>A fancy baseball term for she hit it back to the machine.
>Not bad.
>She's getting that smug look on her face.
>You step into the cage with her and start to slow clap
“Not that bad a start.  Well, it was really bad at first, but I must applaud your adjustments midway through.”
>She places one end of the bat on the ground and uses it for a stand.
>”Yeah I know I'm awesome!”
>You snort and you get behind her.
“Now let me show you some tips that will make you even more awesome.”
>You're right behind her.
>Bodies touching.
>You can feel her tense up a bit.
You slide your arms over hers.
>You grab her wrists that are gripping the bat.
“Try to keep the bat at a 45 degree angle.”
>You pressure her arms with yours to lower her elbows.
“Try to keep your elbows below your hands.”
>You let go.
>You gently knee her inner thighs.
“Always try to have your legs spread to at least shoulder length.”
>Finally, you grab her by her hips.
“Also remember.  It's all in the hips.”
>You begin to rock her hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion.
>She finally flails at you to get away.
>You notice her face is red.
>”I get it you perv!”
>You laugh and begin to exit the cage.
“One last thing.”
>You make your way back to her.
>You lean into her face.
>Faces just inches apart.
>eyes are locked.
>You press forward as if to kiss her.
>Just before contact you whisper.
“Always keep your eye on the ball.”
>You very quickly pull back and hit the button to activate the pitching machine.
>You can't tell if she's embarrassed or pissed over what jut happened.
>She's breathing heavy.
>Her swings are more awkward from when she had the bad stance.
>You have yourself a laugh.
>After she calmed herself down she began to get hits.
>Solid hits.
>Line shots.
>Even fly balls.
>They're going pretty far as well.
>The last two pitches she get's solid contact on.
>And sends them flying as high and as far as the cages let them.
“Well then,”
>She had a good session.
>She exits the cage still looking a bit angry
“Great start, now we can move up to-”
>”We're going 90.” She abruptly tells you
>You were going to say 80.
>But you decide to just let her at it.
>She seems mad still.
>Plus she has the bat.
>Can't let this get too ugly.
>You both make your way to the end of the cages.
>Dash heads into the cage and begin to take a few practice swings before activating the machine.
>She finally does.
>The first pitch comes.
>It blows right past her.
>She didn't even swing.
>”What the hell was that!?”
>Another pitch.
>She doesn't see and swings way too late.
>She looks more panicked than annoyed at this moment.
>You're getting a good chuckle at least.
“You see Dashie, what most non baseball players realize is that while it looks easy to hit these kinds of pitches on TV. When you're truly faced with a 90mph or above fastball; things get a bit quick.”
>She starts grunting as she still takes late swings.
>She finished the session without making any kind of contact.
>Dash looks over to you.
>It's your turn to give her a smug, almost 'I told you so' look.
>She slams her fist on the button to activate the machine again for another round.
>10 more swings.
>10 more misses.
>Her swings are getting slower and more sloppy.
>She's getting tired.
>She's putting all her strength into each swing and that wares on you quick.
>Well, at least she caught some of one of the pitches.
>The ball flew to the back of the cage in your direction.
>Even with two layers of fence between the ball and you, you still flinch
>But still not much
>She storms out the cage and shoves the bat into your chest.
>”Alright pencil dick, let's see you try it.”
>You take the bat from her hands.
“Ok.”
>You make your way into the cage and warm yourself up.
>Take a few practice swings.
>You then activate the machine.
>First pitch comes.
>You tip it but it still blows past you.
>Rainbow Dash is now laughing in the back.
>”Come on Mr. Baseball! Show me something!”
>Second pitch comes.
>Again, you barely hit the bottom of the ball.
>Popping it up in the air.
>Third pitch
>*CLANK*
>Solid contact.
>Ball is sent blazing off into the air.
>You don't hear any trash talk from Rainbow Dash behind you.
>Another pitch.
>*CLANK*
>Another hit.
>Again, not a peep from Rainbow Dash.
>Overall 4 solid hits and the rest you at least made contact.
>You emerge from the cage victorious.
>Dash is just leaning on the cage with her arms crossed.
>”This is stupid.” She pouts
>You lean next to Dash on the cage and start nudging her
“It was your first time! I've been at this for years.”
>You tell her in a playful tone
“Can you at least admit it's not easy to hit an actual baseball?  For me?”
>You plead to her as you are now full on leaning on her.
>Your head resting on her shoulder.
>She lifts herself off the cage and turns away from you.
>Then back to facing you.
>”Yeah, I guess you're pretty awesome at hitting a baseball.”
>Good enough.
>In a fit of excitement, you grab her and begin to twirl her in the air.
“Yes! That's good enough for me!”
>You let her down.
>Her face has a pink hue to it.
”Y-Yeah! You'd have to be awesome to get any of this!”
>She starts motioning her arms up and down her body as if presenting herself.
>She's trying to save face.
>In front of nobody she knows or really cares about.
>Except you.
>And you just let that roll off of you.
>It's a lot easier than it used to be.
>Because you ARE awesome.
>Also because now you know where that mouth of hers goes anytime she acts up.
>And that's on your dick.
>And that always puts a smile on your face.
>You wrap your arm around her shoulders and begin to lead her out of the batting cages.
“Lets go get something to eat.”
>You hope to have left a lasting impression on her over this.
>Only time will tell.