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A Bumpy Flight

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Jan 7th, 2015
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  1. Desc.: Short oneshot; Anon torments Spitfire on and off the track.
  3. > Wonderbolts races are, by definition, loud events.
  4. > Crowds screaming, horns blowing, magically-enhanced announcers straining to be heard.
  5. > When five distinctly colored forms their place at the starting line, the volume only rises.
  6. > Even in this VIP box, the excitement is palpable.
  7. > Ponies all around you craning forward as if a few extra inches would give them some unique insight.
  8. > You, though - you merely sit back in your well-cushioned seat, arms folded over your chest.
  9. > One hand slipping within your coat to check the plastic rectangle is still safely within your pocket.
  10. > "And there they go! Spitfire in the lead, with Misty Fly right behind her and Rapidfire..."
  11. > Though the announcer can clearly be heard over the thunderous roar of the crowd, you pay him no attention.
  12. > You have eyes only for the mare in the lead, now a two-toned blob of blue and orange.circling around the far half of the track.
  13. > "Halfway around the first lap and Spitfire still holds the lead, though Soarin' is pulling up close behind, and..."
  14. > Just as the pack of racers swings through the turn into the home stretch, your fingertips caress once over the plastic box.
  15. > A switch is drawn to its first position.
  16. > "...and Spitfire flinches! What a shock - she's fallen to third, behind..."
  17. > You allow the slightest smirk to creep onto your lips.
  18. > Flinches indeed - you hadn't told her you had control before the match, and now she was surely cursing your name with every swear she knew.
  19. > "...passing the first lap now, going around into the second, Misty now in the lead with Soarin' behind her and Spitfire tied with Rapidfire for third..."
  20. > You nudge the switch to its second position - earning another unexpected flutter from Spitfire.
  21. > The announcer doesn't comment on it, to caught up in the neck-and-neck competition between the two ponies for the first place.
  22. > They couldn't matter less to you, though - all that you care for is that orange-maned blob in the middle of the pack.
  23. > Before she slips from the little radio's range the switch finds its way twice up more, to the highest setting.
  24. > Her reaction certainly gets the announcer's attention.
  25. > "...and Spitfire's in trouble! She must've sprained something, she's seems to be clutching one leg and certainly seems surprised - but at this rate, she might have to make a medical landing..."
  26. > No.
  27. > Spitfire would never, ever let anyone see what she's going through right now.
  28. > The sheer humiliation that would result aside, her pride demands she finish the race - to show you she can compete even with your... interference.
  29. "She's fallen well behind, but is still trying to go on - but can she catch up? Well, Misty's still holding the lead..."
  30. > "Such a pity, if she has been injured."
  31. > You turn your gaze to the pony seated directly beside you, his forehooves crossed over an elaborate cane.
  32. "Oh?"
  33. > "Yes; she's been a very good captain for the Wonderbolts - a very adept manager as well a racer. It would be a true shame if she had to bow out for a while, even retire... perhaps an allowance could be made for her to continue to lead them as she recovers?
  34. > Though he does not say it, one questioning eye has turned to you at the end - the question is meant for you.
  35. "As team owner, I'm quite sure I could adjust the rules to give her a position... but I think she would rapidly go stir-crazy from being grounded."
  36. > "Better that, than having to give up her life's work, no?"
  37. > You chuckle softly.
  38. "Perhaps? Certainly it might be good to allow her to remain the public face of the Wonderbolts."
  39. > "Indeed! She could even-"
  40. > He is interrupted by the white-coated, pink-maned slim pony clinging to his leg.
  41. > "Look, Fancy! They're onto the third lap!"
  42. > All three of your gazes turn back to the racing track.
  43. > Sure enough, the racers have rounded again - passing the finish line for the second time, and now streaking away to the last lap around.
  44. > At the rear, a blue and orange blob still bouncing along.
  45. > Had you gotten distracted for that long?
  46. > Another small smirk graces your lips.
  47. > How... unfortunate.
  48. > Your careful fingers brush the switch, sliding it back to the off position.
  49. > "...and Spitfire seems to have found her pace again! She's catching up to the others - passing, now in fourth! Half a lap left! Can she make it still?"
  50. > Again the crowds lean forward, straining to see every beat of their wings.
  51. > "Coming into the final stretch, Spitfire's pulled into second place, passing Soarin' and now neck and neck with Misty..."
  52. > You aren't surprised.
  53. > Easily an image slips into your mind - her teeth gritted, eyes burning with furious anger and humiliation that fueled her drive to win.
  54. > To prove that you couldn't control her.
  55. > "....and Spitfire is first at the finish! What a shocker after dropping behind like that, folks, she's just..."
  56. > The crowd's cheers finally drown out the announcer's voice, but from the VIP box this close to the track you can still see the landing racer's.
  57. > Gathering around Spitfire, issuing friendly pats and congratulations - and, undoubtedly, questioning the reason for her sudden trouble.
  58. > Spitfire is surely thankful, you think, that her entire flight suit is soaked with sweat.
  59. > No need to explain any other awkward wet spots.
  60. > Allowing her a few moments, you finally reach into your jacket once more.
  61. > Again the switch finds its way to the maximum position; Spitfire jerks up straight and nearly leaps into the air in shock.
  62. > Brushing off her teammates, she trots off the field towards the entrance hall - back to her room.
  63. > Standing, you quietly slip from the VIP box as well - knowing Spitfire will have broken into a gallop the second she was clear from sight.
  64. > Humming gently, you wind your way through the halls until you find the room marked with her familiar mark.
  65. > Not even bothering to knock, you slide the door open before you and stride in.
  66. > Anyone else bothering to enter would have been met with a shocking sight, but for you it was entirely expected.
  67. > Spitfire lay on her side, damp flight suit still clinging to her well-toned form and sweat-soaked mane dripping on the floor.
  68. > Other things were dripping as well; both her forelegs were firmly clamped between her rear and every few moments another shudder would run through her body.
  69. > At last she sees you, eyes finally filling with tears.
  70. > The door quietly shuts behind you, just in time to prevent a moan from escaping the room as yet another tremor rips through Spitfire.
  71. > Even as you move to kneel by her side the tremors reach a peak, her wings locking out as unwanted ecstasy ripples through her body.
  72. > Tears, sweat, and other fluids drip to the floor as another moan, this one equal parts pleasure and shame, escapes her lips.
  73. > For the final time your fingers brush the switch, the barely-audible whining buzzes from between her flanks dying at last.
  74. > Moments pass with the only noise in the room her heavy panting as her breath finally catches.
  75. > "I... I hate you, Anonymous."
  76. > You gently cup her cheek in one hand, relishing in the hatred flowing from her eyes and the venom in her voice.
  77. "I know you do, Spitfire."
  78. > "You... you humiliated me out there. In front of all of them..."
  79. "You still won. They loved the comeback."
  80. > "I won despite you, asshole!"
  81. > Her voice rises as she staggers to her hooves, legs spread wide and head low.
  82. > "I won even with you screwing me over in every way you could!"
  83. "Would you like to end our private little agreement, then?"
  84. > She shudders, forcing her eyes shut and breathing back under control.
  85. > "...I hate you. I hate you, I hate these things you put in me, I hate what they do to me, I hate that I can't tell you and your fucking agreement to go bite a thundercloud!"
  86. "Then I will see you tonight. Are you going to change before you go out to face the crowds?"
  87. > Spitfire fixes you with another glare.
  88. > "Even if you would let me take those things out now, you know very well why I can't be seen without this suit."
  89. "Ah, yes..."
  90. > Your hand brushes lightly along her withers; Spitfire winces as they pass over the whip marks hidden beneath the fabric.
  91. > Not from any pain she felt now, but from the memory of what had brought them.
  92. "Then you'd best get out there. Don't forget to come tonight."
  93. > Leaning over, you whisper into one ear.
  94. "Just for that little outburst earlier, I've got a new punishment toy I've been just dying to try out..."
  95. > Yet another shudder runs through Spitfire's frame as she pulls away from you, throwing one final nasty look over her shoulder as she stalks out of her room.
  96. > You let her go, still smirking, head filled with visions of what you are going to do to her tonight.
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