Coming Together

“You remember how we met?” Gear mused, wrapping her arm around her fiancée.

The siren snuggled against the hulky dickmare, lovingly caressing her side. “How could I ever forget…”

~

Grumbling to herself, polishing off what was left of her godfather, Gear waved down the bartender. It had been a long week, rife with one problem after the other, and she’d decided to go out for a few drinks. It wasn’t all that often that she went to a dive, since it was cheaper and more convenient to get tanked at home, but she’d wanted a change of scenery; sadly, the peaceful evening she’d been hoping for was anything but.

“This time, make it a double,” she murmured, handing the barkeep her emptied glass.

Glaring to her left, towards a mass of ponies, she knit her brow. The establishment wasn’t that well known, being tucked away beneath a flower shop, so she hadn’t the foggiest clue as to why the place was so packed. There were at least thirty patrons inside, with new ones seeing themselves in every couple of minutes, and they all seemed hellbent on one thing - some fuschia chick with long, flowing pigtails.

She had no idea who the girl was, nor why everyone was so smitten with her, but she was getting sick and damn tired of hearing squealing sycophants clamoring for attention. Turning slightly towards the unwanted distraction, she looked the interloper over. Whoever the popular newcomer was, her personality definitely seemed to mirror her imposing size.

Clad in a skin tight top, shamelessly displaying her cleavage, the chick was nearly as large as she was. The fact that she was tall and heavily muscled would have been impressive enough, but her snug jean shorts revealed something just as awe inspiring as her build. Resting at her groin, beneath an all too thin layer of denim, rested an unmistakable bulge.

Gear scoffed, taking another swig of her cocktail. Dickmares weren’t that uncommon - hell, she was one herself - but seeing a pack of rabid, energetic ponies swarming one wasn’t something she saw every day. Ultimately, it didn’t matter much, seeing as how she’d been about to leave and migrate to another, hopefully less crowded bar. Setting her drink down, hoping to relieve herself before she wandered off, she got to her feet and moved towards the restroom.

Scowling, she moved past the throng and into the lavatory. There was a tavern down the road, a nice little place that mostly served beer, so that’s probably where she’d be heading. So long as she wasn’t surrounded by simpering, loud, and wholly out of place folks vying to be noticed by some bedicked mare, she didn’t care where she ended up. Swiftly taking a leak, wondering if she’d get lucky and find some cute chick or effeminate dude to drag home, she saw herself out and froze.

In the brief time she’d left her seat, the teeming mass of ponies had migrated to around her seat. While she’d been somewhat annoyed before, the development caused her temper to flare; for fuck’s sake, she wasn’t even done with her drink! Openly snarling, she pressed her way through the crowd. Much to her chagrin, the situation only got worse.

As she approached her stool, she discovered the siren resting on her seat - not only that, but the bitch was sipping on her drink. The slight was the final straw, pushing her patience well past the brink. It didn’t matter who the cheerful, delusional cunt was, she was about to get a rude fucking awakening.

“Hey,” she barked, barging past several of the boot-lickers, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

The girl didn’t flinch, casually eyeing the incensed she-stud from top to bottom, while helping herself to another nip of the purloined cocktail. “Who the fuck I think I am?” she coolly rebuked, setting down the rocks glass.

“Bitch, did I stutter?” Gear spat.

The abrupt confrontation, followed by a heavy silence, was anathema to the pack of fans, sending nearly all of them slinking away. The pair of dickmares eyed one another, though the smaller of the two didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. Pushing herself up, squaring off against the indignant titan, she placed her hands on her hips.

“So you haven’t heard of the Aria Blaze?” she jeered, flipping her head to the side.

“Who?” Gear rebuked, staring at the girl’s smug, infuriating expression. “So, what, you some kind of wannabe camwhore or something?

A sneer flashed over the siren’s face, before she composed herself. “A leading member of the Dazzlings? Come on, only a bumpkin wouldn’t know about one of the best pop bands of the decade.”

Gear clenched her fist, doing her level best not to knock the teeth out of the arrogant, condescending tramp’s mouth. While there was some legitimacy to the claim that she was a bumpkin, seeing as how she lived and worked in the sticks, she wasn’t about to stand for some random broad shit-talking her. The entire exchange was a bit of a shame, since the chick was actually pretty hot, but the piss-poor attitude and lack of tact sullied her image.

“Can’t say I’m a fan of pop, so I definitely haven’t heard of you or your shitty band,” she growled, “and I don’t think...My eyes are up here.” To her amazement, apparently disinterested with the conversation, the girl was brazenly looking at her crotch. Glowering, she reached down and fondled her package. “Before you ask, yeah, she’s broken badder bitches than you.”

The alleged songstress locked eyes with the colossus, mockingly laughing to herself. “Now that is rich! Big, hung, and stupid! I tell ya, I guess it’s true what they say about country girls!”

Jabbing a finger to the girl’s chest, Gear’s patience began to fracture. “First of all, I only live in the country - got a mechanic shop that I built with my own two hands. Secondly, I might be big and hung, but I’m definitely not dumb enough to pick a fight with someone who could choke me with their dick.”

“Implying that you wouldn’t choke on my cock. Please, Honey, I’ve left way bigger broads than you begging for more,” Aria mockingly jested.

“Don’t...fucking...tempt...me…” the mechanic seethed.

Swatting the woman’s hand away, the siren turned her nose up. “Hmmmph - whatever. It’s not like I’d want some brutish, uncultured thing simping for me anyways.”

The final remark was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Gear snatched the girl’s collar, balled her fist, and brought their faces to within a hair’s breadth from one another. “I don’t give a fuck what you want. Unless the next thing you say is an apology, I’m going to break your ass so badly that nobody will be able to satisfy you again.”

A wolfish grin split the songstress’ muzzle, as her eyes went alight. “Is that a promise?”

The mechanic opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Somehow, despite the fact that she was about to get thrown over the bar, the siren thought it was a good idea to flirt with her. The chick was clearly an idiot, a cum-brain, or some combination of the two - either way, she found herself marginally disarmed by the response.

“If you’re gonna plow my brains out, how about you give me a name first?” Aria smoothly countered, offering her hand. “I mean, I doubt you’re actually capable of doing more than warming me up, but I appreciate your gumption.”

“Gear,” she huffed. Releasing the girl’s shirt, slipping a glance at the top of her rack, she tightly gripped the pop star’s hand. “High Gear.”

“High like stoned, or high like on a transmission?” the songstress inquired.

“The latter,” Gear grumbled.

Releasing the chick’s hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose. As badly as she’d wanted to leave, the breakneck turn of events almost demanded that she stay and see where things went. It wasn’t too often that someone was bold or stupid enough to hit on her while being threatened, so her interest was piqued. Stepping back, she grabbed her drink and expectantly held it across the bar.

“So,” Aria began, seating herself, “I’m gonna guess this dump is one of your regular haunts?”

“It’s a nice change of scenery for me,” gear muttered, handing the nearly emptied glass off to the barkeep. “So, Mrs. Big-shot, what made you come down here?”

“I’ll have a long island iced tea,” the siren glibly ordered, catching the employee’s ear. “Believe it or not, I came down here for some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, getting away from fans isn’t as easy as you’d think.”

“You could always tell them to fuck off,” Gear grunted, leering at a handful of devotees lingering nearby.

“Nah, they’d like that too much - besides, I’d rather not make a scene; it’s bad press,” Aria sighed. “Before you ask, or say something smart, being well known isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me. You’re busy all the time, between practice and shows, you’re constantly on the road, and you have to mind how you act in public.”

The mechanic shrugged. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know. The worst I have to deal with is the occasional upset customer or Karen.”

It was true, she’d never had any experience with the limelight. She’d grown up in the suburbs, raised by working class parents, and had attended public school. The only reason she’d done so well for herself, relatively speaking, was because she’d been hellbent on standing on her own two feet. Between a handful of internships and certifications she’d gotten at a small-time community college, she’d gotten enough experience to do what she loved for a living - that being said, she was still in debt for the loans to get her business off the ground.

“So what kind of stuff do you work on? I’m gonna guess tractors and stuff,” the songstress mused, coolly taking a draught of her cocktail.

Piquing a brow, Gear grimaced. “What is this, fifty questions?”

“What can I say, I like a mare who’s not afraid to get her hands dirty,” Aria snickered.

Biting back a smile, the mechanic shook her head. “I don’t work on heavy equipment all that often, outside of stuff for a few farmers. More often than not, I get stuck doing routine maintenance - you know, shit like putting on new tires, changing oil, fixing dings and dents. I wish I got more interesting work, like overhauling engines or installing turbos, but the routine jobs pay the bills.”

“You ever supercharged a 57 Diamondback?” the siren asked, cocking her head.

The mention of the exceptionally rare and sought after muscle car immediately caught Gear’s full attention. “Can’t say I have, but I’d kill to get my hands on one of those bad boys.”

“Well mine’s a girl, but I’ll let that one slide,” Aria hummed.

Rolling her eyes, Gear subconsciously clenched her jaw. She really shouldn’t have been surprised with the admission, given that the girl was apparently famous and more than likely loaded, but she couldn’t bite back her frustration. She’d had to claw her way to where she was, busting her ass for her entire life, and she doubted she’d ever get the chance to own such a prestigious machine.

“Lucky you,” she muttered. “I wasn’t handed shit on a silver platter, so I doubt I’ll ever be lucky enough to have such a luxury.”

“Lucky?” the siren quipped, recoiling in her seat. “Luck didn’t have a damn thing to do with it. We were living in our van for nearly a year, before we found an agent worth a damn, so I don’t want to hear shit about luck!”

“Oh, excuse me, I guess I haven’t gotten my lucky break yet,” Gear shot back, her mood instantly souring.

Nodding to the woman’s crotch, Aria smirked. “I wouldn’t say you were that unlucky. If that thing is half as big as I think it is, I don’t think you should be complaining.”

Squinting, the mechanic glanced at the girl’s crotch. “You’re not one to talk, what with that heat you’re packing.”

She really couldn’t say for sure, but the bulge in the siren’s pants definitely seemed to be on the larger side of things. Stranger still was the fact that the celebrity wasn’t acting like most amazoness sized dickmares. More often than not, hulking she-studs were tops, rarely if ever having an interest in anything but a warm hole to fill, although Aria seemed to be an exception. With the alcohol insidiously effecting her system, dulling her inhibitions and loosening her tongue, she threw caution to the wind.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

The songstress sat one elbow on the bar, resting her head on her clenched fist. “Shoot.”

Leaning forward, the mechanic lowered her tone. “So are you really into bottoming, or was that just a load of shit to throw me-”

“Am I into bottoming?” Aria guffawed, rocking back. “Before we get into that, how about you answer one of mine first. Why would you ask?”

“Just kind of rare to find a mare as well equipped as you who likes to be on the receiving end of things,” Gear candidly answered.

“Yeah, but that’s the fun of it!” the songstress chirped. “Think about it,” she continued, almost whispering, “we can screw anyone until we bust a nut, but having someone fuck the cum out of you is more of a challenge.”

The grease monkey raised a finger, then slowly lowered it. There was a certain validity to the girl’s words; it was rare for her to bottom, and rarer still for her to get her rocks off to it, so she could see her acquaintance’s point. The notion did have a certain appeal, especially coming from an amazoness nearly as striking as herself, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be up for the task.

“So - uh - about that plowing your brains out thing,” she softly chuckled, peering at the girl’s cleavage.

“Want to test your might, eh?” Aria giggled, waggling her eyebrows.

“I mean, honestly, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be too hard for me to have you cumming all over yourself,” Gear proudly sighed. “You got a hotel room or - Mmmph?!”

Before she could even finish her proposal, the siren leaned in and locked lips with her. Throwing caution to the wind, emboldened by the jarring turn of events and the whisky flowing through her veins, she reciprocated. Reaching down, grabbing a fistfull of the pop star’s ass, she abandoned her glass. The cocktail could wait, considering something altogether more entertaining just appeared on the menu.

“You were saying?” the siren purred, breaking the impetuous kiss.

“You wanna get out of here? We could grab a hotel room or -” the mechanic fell silent, as a finger was pressed to her lips.

Without saying a word, the girl stood, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her from her stool. For the briefest of moments, she thought she’d be dragged out the door and towards an awaiting limo or ride; suffice to say, she was mistaken. Guided through the bar, and to the restroom, she smiled to herself. As much as she hated to admit it, she was liking the chick more and more by the minute.

Pressing into the lavatory, glancing at the door, Aria scrunched her snout. “Well I guess we’ll have to run the risk of being walked in on - that is, if you’re game for that.”

“I’d fuck you on the bar, for what it’s worth, but there’s a handicapped stall we could use,” Gear noted, motioning to the far end of the room.

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d railed someone in a restroom, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last, so she wasn’t bothered by the prospect of some semi-public loving. Leading the way, seeing herself into the decently sized enclosure, she held the door open for the girl - that was, until she was slammed against the wall. The blow left her momentarily dazed, but that was enough for the siren to get a hand into her pants.

“Hmmhmmhmm - Oh yeah, I feel a winner,” the diva merrily hummed.

Withdrawing her hand, deftly undoing the button and belt buckle, she hauled the woman’s pants open. Between the speed and precision of her movements, not to mention the boasting she’d been doing, Gear knew she was about to be in for a genuine contest of wills. Effectively pantsing the woman, in one swift move, the siren was left facing one very large, rapidly growing stallionhood.

Gear had seen all sorts of reactions to her tool, with the overwhelming majority being consisting of a stunned and/or surprised silence, yet her acquaintance defied all logic. Most reasonable people would have at least studied her massive unit, giving themselves a moment to size her up, but not Aria - not in the slightest. Shooting forward, virtually inhaling the first few inches of her shaft, she filled her muzzle like a starved animal.

Biting her lip, she stifled herself. Truth be told, she’d nearly gasped as the warm, inviting lips wrapped around her cock. Grabbing the handicap bar behind herself, in awe of the girl’s tenacity, she watched the show. Titanic, stuck up bitch or not, there was no denying that the siren knew exactly what she was doing.

Bobbing her head, tenderly massaging the sensitive underside of stallionhood with her tongue, Aria put herself to work. Despite the stall being open, with the exit being a two-way, unlockable door, she set upon the woman with gusto. Lovingly fondling the big-dicked mechanic’s balls with one hand, she blindly started fiddling with her belt.

“Hoping to - Fuck!” Gear grunted, as she was suddenly throated.

It was hard enough to find someone fearless enough to blow her immediately after seeing her endowment, so stumbling on someone who was brave or insane enough to choke themselves on her member was jaw dropping. Gritting her teeth, cursing herself for the momentary lapse in self control, she fought the urge to buck her hips. If she showed the slightest sign of weakness, she had little doubt that the chick would give her hell for it.

Seconds dragged by, with Aria’s nose bumping against the woman’s crotch, before she slowly began to relent. Her lung capacity was yet another impressive mark in her favor, since there was no possible way she could breath with the behemoth plugging her esophagus. The slickened tool slid from her gullet, springing into the air. A single strand of glimmering saliva connected the rigid cock to the girl’s face, moments before she got to her feet and fished into her pocket.

“Fuck?” she quipped, gently wrapping her fingers around the woman’s wrist. “Yeah, that was kind of the point.”

Gear looked down, feeling something pressed into her palm. The songstress hadn’t just fellated her with apparent ease, but she’d also come prepared. Resting in her hand was a tiny bottle of lube - not enough for any sort of extended playtime, but an adequate amount for a single amorous encounter. Flipping the cap, with her excitement mounting, she drizzled the thick gel over her shaft.

“Now turn that fat ass around and…” she trailed off, realizing all too late that her prompting was unnecessary.

The siren had wheeled around, placed her hands on the dividing wall, and bent over. Her shorts were around one ankle, without any trace of panties or thong, as she spread and braced her legs. Seeing such a magnificently presented ass would have been captivating enough, but the inclusion of a pair of succulent nuts and floppy stallionhood made the sight all the more alluring - for Gear, at least.

“You gonna stare at it all day,” Aria purred, reaching back and slapping one fuchsia cheek, “or are you gonna put that bitch-breaker to use?”

Kicking her pants away, ignoring the fact that the garment flew across the room, Gear grabbed her dick and strode forward. The time for talk and teasing was at an end, the time of reckoning was at hand. Some part of her knew that her pride was at stake, that if she lost she’d be mocked to no end, yet that didn’t stop her - not in the slightest. Guiding the tip of her length to the girl’s soft, inviting pucker, she drew a metered breath to calm herself.

“Just don’t blame me if you’re walking funny for a few days,” she murmured, prodding the taut hole with the head of her cock.

“When all that bravado of yours falls apart, don’t worry, I’ll fuck your face and give you a real cocktail to remember,” the songstress breathed, shooting the woman a sultry wink.

With nothing else to say, the towering amazoness drove her hips forward. The girl’s ass yielded perilously little resistance, allowing her to sink inch after inch of her shaft into the hot, snug, staggeringly accommodating confines. Relishing the wondrous sensations the girl afforded, taking her sweet time, a subtle movement caught her eye.

It seemed as though Aria wasn’t handling the intrusion as she’d initially thought; holding one hand to her face, biting down on her knuckle, her eyelids fluttered. Her blood raced, her sheathing stallionhood twitched, and her eyes went alight. It was a sign of weakness if ever she’d seen one, practically forcing her to seize the initiative.

Reaching out, while she leaned forward, she gently yet firmly pulled the siren’s arm back. “Something wrong there?” she softly asked.

“N...not - Mmmph - at all,” Aria sputtered.

“Good, then you won’t be needing to quiet yourself,” Gear joyfully remarked, knowing good and damn well that her foe was bullshitting her. “Since this is so easy for you, I’m sure you won’t need to keep yourself quiet then…”

Situated as she was, left to balance on one arm, the girl was fucked - both figuratively and literally. Left at the hulking dickmare’s mercy, able to do little else but endure the onslaught to come, she pouted up at her adversary. The defiance was cute, coaxing the mechanic’s domineering side to the fore.

Supremely pleased with herself, seeing no other way to improve their little arrangement, Gear set to plowing her mate. She started off slowly, of course, giving herself and the petulant pop star a few moments to acclimate and enjoy the experience, yet things quickly escalated. Less than a minute after she’d plunged into the tramp, her hips were crashing against the girl’s ass. It shifted from the soft, tender intimacy of lovers, to the brutal, almost bestial fucking of animals within minutes.

To her credit, Aria withstood the assault better than many, though that didn’t last for long. Her stifled moans and groans grew louder with every mighty plunge, adding her lilting, whorish tones to the drumbeat of their colliding bodies. Gear almost felt bad, almost, but the sights and sounds of the snooty singer fueled her lust into a blazing inferno.

Normally, she would have closed her eyes and savored the wondrous feelings of having a damn good piece of ass around her cock, but the situation was a departure from the norm. She’d only ever been issued a lewd challenge once before, and that had ended with the stallion being bed bound for a week. Simply put, the inclusion of a challenge upped the ante.

“Gonna - Nnngh - make your ass remember this dick,” she growled, while her balls slapped against the siren’s nuts.

“Quit talking and - Oh fuck - start rutting me like a real dickmare,” Aria spat, summoning the strength to form a sentence. Rebelliously milking the woman’s pistoning length, she moved in tune with the mechanic’s motions.

Gear wasn’t sure what the siren’s intentions were, but the rebelliousness sent her into a frenzy. Pulling out all the stops, leveling every ounce of her considerable carnal might against her opponent, she slipped into a rut-lust. Gritting her teeth, pounding her mate like a jackhammer, she steadily lost herself. If the bitch wanted it rough, by Celestia, she was going to get it rough.

Bit by bit, thrust by thrust, Aria’s strength waned. The anger in her eyes bled away, replaced by the unabashed passion of being demolished by something greater than herself. Her thighs trembled ever so slightly, drool dangled from her chin, and her braced arm gave out. The weakness she displayed, though gradual, did not go unnoticed.

Even as worked up as Gear was, she took note of the girl’s condition. Though she figured it would only be a matter of time until she broke her new plaything, the sight sent her rocketing towards release. Releasing the songstress’ arm, allowing it to limply dangle beneath them, she twirled the twin pigtails in her hand, waiting for just the right time to execute her coup de grace.

Feeling the pucker quiver and convulse around her stallionhood, she savagely pulled the girl’s hair. “Cum like the bitch you are!”

And just like that, Aria met her climactic demise; the howl she unleashed was unlike anything the woman had ever heard, deafeningly beautiful and awe inspiring, but there was some strange, preternatural element to it. As the strangely melodious noise resonated throughout the chamber, filling her ears, she slipped past the brink. Realizing she’d overextended herself beyond recovery, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of - she hilted the girl like a freight train.

With one final, tectonic thrust, she jammed every inch of her dick into her mate and came. Spunk surged through her pulsing shaft, through the flaring head of her cock, and into Aria’s depths. Her victorious roar mingled with the siren’s, threatening to shatter the mirrors above the row of sinks, but that wasn’t the real issue - the real issue was the mounting bolts in the wall that gave way.

Under the weight of two dickmares screwing like horny highschoolers, the partition collapsed. The pair tumbled forward, with Gear crashing atop Aria, as they practically destroyed the bathroom. At least one toilet broke, the framework of the stalls bent in several places, and several tiles on the floor cracked; in short, they’d become a two-mare demolition crew.

Laying akimbo atop the siren, blinking in surprise, the unexpected and devastating development snapped Gear back to the present. The rush of endorphins and serotonin softened the shock of fucking someone through a wall, if only just, as she stared at the back of the chick’s head. Pushing herself up, unceremoniously hauling her colossal length from the songstress’ battered rear, she offered a hand.

“Sorry about that,” she grumbled, helping the girl up. “You - uh - ok?”

It was a stupid question to ask, because she knew the answer before she’d even asked. The siren’s hair was a mess, her clothes were soaked in a combination of jizz and water, she looked like she’d been through ten rounds with an Ursa Major - still, despite her shabby state, she was grinning like an idiot. Shakily readjusting her top, she glanced around.

“Where are my shorts?” she croaked, turning in place. Her floppy cock slung cum over the floor, while the mechanic’s seed leaked out of her tush, but she didn’t seem to care - if anything, she seemed to be in a damn decent mood.

Spotting the girl’s shorts beneath a sink, Gear quickly retrieved the garment and offered it to the disheveled celebrity. “Here ya go.”

“Fuck me, that - Cough - that wasn’t half bad,” she dismissively noted, shakily getting into her trunks.

As entertaining as the scene was, the gravity of the situation hit the mechanic like a sack of bricks. They’d probably done upwards of a thousand bits’ worth of damage, everyone in the bar had definitely heard them going at it, and they’d probably be banned from the establishment. Rubbing one temple, trying to figure out where her pants went, she shook her head.

“Glad you think so, since we’re both probably gonna get banned from -”

“We ain’t getting banned from shit. I’ll pay for the damages and do a photo-op with the owner; if that doesn’t smooth things over, I’ll tell him to kiss my juicy pink nuts,” Aria snarled. Spotting something in the corner, she strutted over, grabbed the misplaced slacks, and tossed them to the woman. “As much as I’d like to watch your naked ass walking around, I don’t think this is the time or the place for it.”

Gear cocked her head, utterly perplexed with the development. The girl had recovered almost instantly, something she’d never seen anyone do before, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. The arrogance, stubbornness, and uncaring demeanor of the siren wasn’t just astounding, it was one of the hottest things she’d ever been privy to. Nearly swooning, feeling her heart skip a beat, she smittenly stared at the muse.

“You gonna stand there making goo-goo eyes at me all night, or are we gonna blow this stand?” Aria condescendingly chuckled, hitching a thumb to the door.

Attempting to play it cool, the mechanic hopped in place and donned her jeans. “And where are we going?”

“Back to my room, Genius. After a quickie like that, I have to get your big ass on a bed,” the songstress sighed, exasperatedly pinching the bridge of her snout. “Seriously, why are the hot ones so dense,” she whispered to herself.

Though Gear heard the slight, she’d let it slide. Brushing herself off as best she could, she walked to the exit and held the door open. “Best two out of three?”

“Naaaaaah,” Aria giggled, walking by and copping a feel. “Three out of five, at the very least.”

There weren’t many times in Gear’s life when she was left speechless, but she genuinely didn’t know what to say. Somehow or another, she’d stumbled into a loaded, talented, and drop dead gorgeous dickmare. Beaming from ear to ear, issuing a silent prayer that the rest of their night would go smoother, she followed the girl out. She’d never really considered settling down with anyone but, if her gut was right about the girl, she might just need to change her stance on that...